Say Forever(16)

My throat suddenly feels tight. "No." I shake my head. "I love you."

"I love you, too, mija." His mouth hitches up in that devastatingly sexy half smile that usually lands him in trouble. If only I wasn't so sick. "So you going to tell her, or do I have to?"

"No, not you." I shake my head and instantly regret it, as I'm overcome with dizziness.

"Good." He laughs. "I'm already on her shit list."

I moan as I lean back against the cushioned headboard. "She wants to meet with a wedding planner Monday. The least I can do is hear them out, and then if I don't like their ideas, I'll say something."





Chapter Four



Andrés

The nightmare is back. I'm navigating the Hummer down the windy incline. James is sitting beside me. Two fresh-faced soldiers, brand new to the unit, and to the Army, are in the back. I swerve when I see the pothole, and the force of the blast knocks the vehicle on its side. It skids down the incline for several yards, and when it finally comes to a halt, James, or what is left of James, is lying on top of me.

I can't do anything, I'm so numbed from shock. The blast knocks out my hearing, and I drift in and out of consciousness several times. I have no idea how long I lay there with my best friend's body on me. Minutes? Hours? Of one thing I am certain: after the dust from the blast has settled, I hear not a sound from the other guys in the truck. Not a sound. But I smell their blood in the air.

While I lay there in agony, waiting for help to arrive, I hear it, the faint sound of a baby crying.

A baby?

Where the hell did a baby come from? Is it injured? Does it need my help? I'm struggling to get up, but James's corpse is holding me down. I push James, but it's like fighting a brick wall. The baby's cries intensify, and I'm panicking now. I cry out for someone, anyone, to come help us.

"What do you think you're doing, Andrés?"

I holler as I look up. James is gone, and my tio is in his place. One side of his face looks like it was bashed to a bloody pulp. The right half of his bottom lip has been detached from his face and his right eye socket is a hollow mess of ooze. He's pressing down on my chest with a tire iron.

"Get back to work, mijo," he scolds. "You're wasting daylight."


***


Christina

"Andrés, wake up. Please."

I'm barely aware of the tears streaming down my face as I try to wake my screaming fiancé. He's thrashing about in bed so violently, I don't have enough time to get out of the way as his hand crashes down on my ribcage.

"Ouch!" I scream, cradling my side. I kick off the covers and scoot out of bed just before his fist comes crashing down again.

"What's going on in here?"

I turn to see Doc standing in my doorway. He's wearing nothing but white cotton undies and holding a baseball bat above his head like he's a caveman preparing to club his next meal. With his slight paunch, greying beard, little round spectacles and jovial smile, my stepdad reminds me of Santa Claus. I've never seen him angry or upset. To say his barging in here like this, wielding a baseball bat is unexpected, is an understatement.

"Andrés is having a bad dream," I cry.

Doc flips on the lights, sets down the bat and walks to the other side of the bed. I avert my gaze, not because I don't want to see my stepdad in his underwear, but because he's wearing them backwards.

My mom rushes in. She's fastening her robe and I can clearly see she's naked underneath.

If my fiancé wasn't thrashing around in bed like he's possessed by a demon, I might be a tad embarrassed for them right now, but I'm too overwhelmed to feel anything.

"What's happening?" Mom asks me.

"I don't know," I say with a quavering voice. "I thought his Army dreams were over."

Mom pulls me to her and I lean my head on her shoulder while watching my fiancé.

"Andrés, wake up." My stepdad shakes him hard on the shoulder.

Andrés swats at him. "What about the baby?" he mumbles.

"Andrés, you're dreaming," my stepdad tells him as he shakes him harder.

Much to my relief, Andrés mumbles a few more times before opening his eyes. He lies there for a moment, looking wide-eyed at Doc before he sits up and stares at my mom and me.

"What happened?" he asks as he rubs the sleep from his eyes.

"You were dreaming," I tell him as I wipe a stray tear from my cheek. I thought Andrés had conquered these dreams and now they're back. Why? And what had he mumbled about the baby? Though somewhere in the back of my mind I suspect the answer, I want so much to deny the obvious truth. He's not ready to be a father. He's not. And this dream confirms it. Why else would the nightmares come back?