Today Only

Today Only

By D. Love

http://yesterdayandtomorrowsreads.blogspot.com/

Cover design by Airicka Phoenix

http://www.AirickaPhoenix.com/

Smashwords Edition

Today Only copyright ©2013 by D. Love

http://yesterdayandtomorrowsreads.blogspot.com/

Cover design copyright © 2013 by Airicka Phoenix

http://www.AirickaPhoenix.com/

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author. The only exception is by a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This novel is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events; to real people, living or dead; or to real locales are intended only to give the fiction a sense of reality and authenticity. Names, characters, places and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are

used fictitiously and their resemblance, if any, to real-life counterparts is entirely coincidental.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to all the families out there that need to find hope in times of need. Finding hope in times of tragedy is hard, learning to cry together, instead of for one another. I hope this book brings light to the love and value of family.

Most of all, this book is dedicated to my family. I love you Rita, Kayla, Jodie, Derinda Ann, Brayden, Raena and Aubrey.

Acknowledgements

First, I would love to thank everyone for walking through this long journey with me.

My love to:

My sweet friend, Jennifer Pringle, for always taking care of me and for sending me Lizzy.

Lizzy Ford for stopping her life to help me transform this story into a book, for being a great mentor, and telling me my technical aspects sucked! Thanks for putting up with all my OMG’s and what if’s and for being a force of goodness. My love will never have an ending for you.

Nanette Bradford, for writing a beautiful poem for Jett and Rye.

A huge thank you to Airicka Phoenix for creating a beautiful cover that turned out exactly the way my heart saw it, and for also listening to me cry and worry so much, and always loving me.

A big thank you to Heather for always supporting me and keeping my schedules together and for all the emails and pressure you endured from me.

A special thank you to MaryAnn for beta reading it for me.

There are so many of you I am scared to name, because I might forget one. The girls at YATR: I love you all! Fellow bloggers and pages and authors: I love you all, too. Without each one of you, this would not be happening. Everyone in my life: I love you and am humbled by your goodness.

Memories Of You

Your strength, your laugh, your eyes …

I miss them everyday …

Your smile, your heart, your love …

Were mine in every way …

My strength was tested, my world thrown apart …

But my love, your memories I carry in my heart …

Forever and always I will love you till the end …

Love now, love great, love forever …

Till we meet again.

- Nanette Del Valle Bradford

Chapter One: Rye

My time here is dwindling. Everything around me – my body, the transition from winter to spring, the height chart marking the growth of my daughter, Emily – reminds me that the hourglass that is my life has only a few grains of sand left.

It’s my first thought this morning. I awoke early for a fundraiser, the Big Walk for March of Dimes. I start off with my daily routine. I jump in the shower, trying not to notice how much the droplets of water hurt my skin. The sting is too much this morning. I get out quickly, dry off and throw my hair in a simple ponytail at the base of my neck. I catch my reflection in the mirror and stare at myself for a minute.

Just a little longer? So I can watch Em grow up?

My mirror doesn’t have an answer for me.

Come on, Em! I call to my daughter. Get your shoes on, before we’re late.

I turn away from the mirror, then hurry into the living room and grab Emily by the hand.

You ready Em? I ask. Whatever dread or fear I feel in front of my mirror fades at the sight of Em’s beautiful blue eyes.

She looks up at me with the biggest smile, and exclaims, Yes!

We hop in the car and head towards the Walk. My daughter’s eyes are glowing.

Mama, this is going to be the best walk ever, she almost squeals in excitement. The innocence of my little angel never fails to humble me.

She doesn’t yet understand that this might be my last Walk with her.

Yes, honey, this is going to be the best walk ever, I agree.

A short drive later, we arrive at the starting point in the parking lot of a local elementary school. Already, the lot is crowded with cars and walkers. The four-mile jaunt starts here and extends down the rail trail running along The Kennebec River. With the river on one side and beautiful blooming trees on the other side, the setting for the Walk is serene and peaceful. Hopeful. The perfect place for such an event.

We get out of the car. I run my hands down my shirt and stretch my arms. Four miles was a distance I used to walk every morning. But after months of treatment, my body feels fragile, and I tire quickly. The once easy distance now seems like a cross-country hike uphill.

Give me strength, for Em’s sake, I whisper to the sky.

Sweetly unaware of my thoughts, Em takes my hand, and we walk together towards the sign-up table. Once we register, the lady working the table tells us to go stand down by the markers at the mouth of the trail. I turn to follow her instructions and bump into someone.

Excuse me, I murmur and start to walk around the tall man.

Rye? Rye Silcox? he asks.

Yes. I stop and look at him curiously. Do I know you?

He points to his chest and says, Jett Conner from school, you don’t remember me?

He has neatly cropped black hair and dark blue eyes. His body is athletic, his eyes warm. The Jett Conner I remember from school didn’t look like this. That Jett Conner was nerdy and wider than he was tall, no small feat, given he’s a foot taller than I am.

I do remember a Jett Conner from school, yes, I answer slowly. I swirl my finger in the air then point it at him. But you are not the Jett Conner I remember from school at all.

He just smiles and says, I hope that’s a compliment, then leans over to sign his forms.

He has a really nice smile. I shake my head at the unexpected exchange. Em is tugging me towards the trail, and we join a group of people headed the same direction.

Everyone around us is there for the same cause, from mothers pushing tiny babies in strollers to the laughing teen girls huddled around their smart phones to the more serious runners wearing iPods strapped to their arms to entire families. We are there to raise money to eradicate a disease that will take people, like me, from their angels, like Em.

We start walking, unrushed on this gorgeous spring morning. The walkers around us are cheerful and take time to soak in the beautiful, sunny day. After a long winter, spring weather in Maine has never met a more welcoming crowd than us. It is still a little crisp but the sun is so bright, I'm sure it’ll warm up by noon. Em is as fascinated as I am by all the colors of spring and pauses every once in a while to point out bright flowers or blooming trees. Winter is slowly saying goodbye.

I recall the first time I walked down this path, when I was fifteen. I was trying to figure out how I was going to tell my mom I was pregnant. I was so sure she was going to kill me. I had a huge fight with her when I was fourteen. Over a boy. She was always in my business and dictating every part of my life. This argument over her forbidding me from seeing some guy was the final straw. I exploded and walked out. Yes, I drove a car without a license, took mom's car without permission and ran away – all on the same night.

At the age of twenty-five, I can’t imagine how that type of drama seemed so real to me when I was younger. I still blame it on hormones. I love my mom. As a mother myself, I understand now that her strictness was born of love and the desire to help me become the best person I could be.

Unfortunately, my teenage self had to learn lessons the hard way. After the fight with my mom, I went to live with my father, hoping he would be less strict than I considered my mother. I know now that I acted out of anger, and I learned my first real adult lesson: Anger is often followed by unintended consequences that we never want to face.

Having been raised by my mother, I used to dream about what it would be like to have a father around. But that dream never came true. My father was the opposite of my mother; he was too self-absorbed to care much about me or what I did. I was pretty much on my own. With my mother, I felt like I was suffocating. With my father, I felt lost.

Soon after moving in with him, I fell for a neighborhood boy. A few months later, I was knocked up. As soon as I found out, I called my mom. I returned home not long after that, fifteen and pregnant. My mom was strong and determined to help me finish my education and find a way to support the baby and myself.

She didn’t turn me away or condemn me, like I expected her to. No, my mother showed just how good of a person she was. I learned that lesson, too, the hard way. The only good thing about learning lessons the hard way: I’ll never forget them.

Mama, you okay?

I pull myself out of my thoughts. I look down to see Em gazing up at me expectantly.

Of course I am fine, honey, I tell her.

I’ve been talking to you, Mama, she said with the irritated impatience of a child. You need to sit?

No, baby, I assured her. Mama is fine. I promise.

At age of twenty-five, I still feel too young to be a mom, but here I am walking next to this great gift. My daughter Emily is ten-years-old with dark blonde hair and blue eyes. She’s about four feet nine inches tall now. She looks just like my mother, though people always say Emily looks like me, too. I figured it's because she wears glasses, like I do. I am five feet nine inches tall, dark brown hair and blue eyes. I am not skinny by any means. I’ve got meat on my bones, as Mom says. I’m average, not overweight, just – normal. I have always had to work to maintain my weight, which is a struggle, because I absolutely love food.

Em, on the other hand, is more like my mother: slender and blond.

Excuse me. Did you drop this? The male voice startles me.

I swing around to see Jett, waving a piece of paper. I’m struck again by how different he looks. With a daughter to watch and a terminal tumor in my head, I can’t remember the last time I was remotely attracted to a man. But I think … he’s handsome.

Ummm, no, I didn't, but thank you for asking, I reply.

Em walks around me and reaches for the paper.

Yes, sir, that’s mine. Thank you, she says cheerfully.

Jett gazes down at her. His eyebrows bunch together, almost like he's asking her a question without saying anything.

What is that, Em? I ask, not recalling her carrying anything with her.

Quickly tucking it into her pocket, she mumbles – Nothing – the way a child does when she’s hiding something but trying to make it appear as if she’s not. Then she turns and starts walking again.

I am about to say something to her when Jett distracts me again.

Hello, again, he says with a corny smile. Remember me? Jett Conner from school. He offers his hand. There’s a twinkle in his warm eyes that I like. Are you enjoying the walk?

Nice to see you again, Jett Conner, I say, my mind still focused on Em’s little secret. I face Jett long enough to shake his hand briefly, then slide both hands into my jeans pockets and start to walk away.

Hey, wait. Would you mind if I walk with you? he asks.

Sure, I reply. We better get a move on or this walk will last for days.

He joins me. Em is a few steps ahead, stopping occasionally to pluck flowers from the riverbank or from the branches overhanging the path.

There’s an initial awkward silence between Jett and me. I sneak a peek at him. Yes, I decide. He really is handsome. Not something I need in my life, but still not bad to look at. He catches the look and smiles. My face feels warm.

I remember you differently from school, I say, embarrassed by my thoughts. You were kind of nerdy.

I get that a lot, he admits. So, you don’t think I’m nerdy now?

There was no quick come back for that, because he wasn’t even close to being the same guy I knew in school. He’s in shape – muscular even – with a quick smile and an upbeat air. He must be wearing contacts, because I recalled the thick glasses he used to wear clearly.

"What’s the