Once again, I'm honored to be included in these invitationals. i encourage you all to read all of the amazing authors' stories.
Thank you, blackrandl1958 for organizing it and for the invite.
Wicked Games
is a song that sets up so well for a Loving Wives story I had to try something different. I was very tempted to write about a woman who falls for a man who isn't her husband or a man who falls for a married woman. I just couldn't decide which to do and abandoned both.
Enjoy my effort at a romantic version.
*****
I sat in the shaded section of my back porch and watched a little girl and a little boy walk into my backyard.
There's no fence separating my property from my neighbor's, so it wasn't hard for them to wander onto my property. Especially since I had a large play set left by the previous owner piquing their curiosity.
It was also a safe neighborhood in a gated community. Kids wandered around unsupervised all of the time. We all looked out for them.
The girl couldn't have been more than five, and the boy she dragged by the hand looked a couple of years younger.
As they climbed the rope ladder to get to the fort, I surmised they were the children of the new owner of the house next door. It was an easy deduction. I saw the movers start their job when I poured my coffee earlier in the morning.
I stayed in the shadows, not wanting to frighten them, and smiled at the memories of watching my nephew play there the last time my sister visited.
Suddenly, instead of sliding down the plastic slide, the boy's foot must've gotten caught up and he flipped over into a somersault.
I was up and there in seconds to see if he was okay, but his tears from pain were stopped by his scream when he saw me.
"Shoot!" I said. "I didn't mean to scare--"
I was cut off by the little girl screaming for her mom. I hurried into my house before I could cause them any more nightmares.
I watched from my bay window as a pretty brunette ran into my yard to tend to her children. I caught my reflection in the glass and frowned.
I could hear the mother scolding her children for playing in my yard unsupervised and without permission. As they walked across my lawn, the little girl looked towards me wide-eyed. I'm not sure why I did it, but I waved goodbye and turned back into my kitchen.
*****
A week later, I woke in a cold-sweated panic.
I grabbed my handgun from the nightstand and took some calming breaths.
"I'm safe. I'm home. I'm safe. I'm home."
I repeated those words as my former therapist instructed and felt calm.
I'm sure if Dr. Angelo knew I used my gun as a comfort tool he'd skin me alive, but it worked for me. The nightmares, panic attacks and flashbacks were few and far between by then.
It was dawn, so once I calmed, I started my day and decided to work in my garden.
The sun was bright, and I felt a presence and saw the shadow before I heard the little voice say, "Why does your face look like that?"
I put down my shears and answered, "Does your mommy know you're here?"
I hadn't turned around, but she walked around me and said, "She's making us pancakes."
I stood and turned away from her stare.
"I think you should go back home, sweetie. Your mom will be mad that you left your yard."
I didn't want to explain to an innocent child what happens in war.
It came on in an instant. My heart started pounding, my throat felt like I was being strangled. I couldn't stop my body from shaking.
I fell to my knees and heard the explosions and gunfire as if I were back in that desert hell hole.
I hugged myself and closed my eyes begging for the sounds to go away.
I repeatedly whispered, "I'm home. I'm safe," but it didn't soothe me that time.
I trembled as the noise got louder and louder, until suddenly a voice said, "It's all right. You're at home. You're in your back yard. No one can hurt you here. You are safe."
I didn't look back, but I began to feel better.
I jumped up and away from the voice. I looked around and recognized my yard. I saw two curious children standing on their deck next door.
My eyes settled back to the woman before me. The sunlight draped her body giving her an angelic aura, and she was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.
I took a deep breath and finally calmed. My tank top was soaked with perspiration, and I felt the sweat drip down my scars.
I turned away and said, "I'm fine now. I'm sorry I scared your little girl. I hadn't had a flashback in a while."
"It's okay. Ayla came and told me you were shaking. She has a friend who had a seizure once, so she knew she needed to get help. I could tell it was a PTSD attack, though. I've done some work with vets."
"Yeah. Um, I'd better get inside now," I said with little strength.
"Before you do, I'm Mandy. We just moved in."
"Sorry, yeah, I'm Damon. I'm sorry I frightened your kids last week. Your boy fell down my slide, and I wanted to make sure he was okay."
"It's okay, Damon. They were just surprised."
"Yeah, the scary man with the ugly face probably scared the daylights out of them."
She shook her head.
"Well, Ayla obviously wasn't scared if she came back. I told them not to bother you anymore. I'm sorry too."
"No, it's fine. I love kids. I just usually try to avoid them."
I rubbed my cheek as I said it. I felt my burns and scars made me look monstrous.
"Well, Mandy, it was nice to meet you. I'll let you get back to your pancakes."
"Would you like to join us? I made plenty."
I shook my head and saw Ayla walking towards us.
"Are you better now?" She asked shyly.
"Yeah. I'm sorry if I scared you."
"I wasn't scared. My friend Tommy gets the shakes too, so I knew I had to get mommy to help you."
I smiled and got down on one knee.
"I'm Mister Damon."
I held out my hand and she shook it.
"I'm Ayla Witten. I'm almost five."
"Well, Ayla Witten, who's almost five. It was nice to meet you."
She reached out to touch my face and I winced back.
"Ayla! Don't do that." Mandy chided.
"Sorry."
I smiled and leaned forward.
"It's all right. Go ahead, sweetie. My nephew, Johnny, wanted to touch it the first time he saw it too."
She slowly raised her finger and traced down the web-like reminders of my time in the sandbox.
"I was hurt by some bad men. I'm okay now though."
Mandy asked, "Afghanistan?"
I nodded, then gasped in realization.
"Amanda Witten. Jeez, I'm sorry I didn't recognize you. We met before."
"We have?"
"Yeah, you probably don't remember. You and your husband stopped by my hospital room when I was recovering."
"Yeah, Bill always visited his constituents if they were hurt in the war. It was one thing he did that was decent."
"Oh?" I asked surprised.
"We're divorced now. When he got elected to the Senate he changed for the worse."
"I'm sorry. I didn't realize. He seemed genuinely concerned when you visited."
"Oh, no! He was concerned. He really cared about our troops."
"Good. I'd hate to think I was just a photo op. Anyway, divorce sucks."
"It is what it is. He gave me two great kids and a lot of alimony. Yet he did imply I was unfaithful, and it helped him get re-elected."
My face must've shown my disgust at the thought of her cheating.
"Oh, no! I assure you I was completely faithful. In fact, my defamation lawsuit was settled, taking even more of his ill-gotten wealth."
She laughed at herself, and I became uncomfortable.
"The sad reality is he cheated on me, and I put up with it like an idiot. It broke my heart, shattered my self-image, and destroyed my self-confidence."
I had no idea how to react to what she was telling me, so I said, "Well, I'm sure Ayla wants those pancakes."
The adorable little girl began jumping and dancing, then ran towards her house.
I laughed and Mandy shrugged.
"You're sure, Damon? There's plenty."
"Yeah, but thanks. It was nice to see you again. Although, you always seem to see me at my worst."
She touched my arm and said, "If you ever need anything, I'm right next door."
I nodded and turned to go. She stood on my lawn and watched until my screen door closed. I couldn't help but turn to watch her walk away. God! She was lovely.
*****
A month later, I was working on my next novel when Ayla walked into my yard.
"Whatcha doin'?" She asked.
"I'm working, honey."
"Mommy works on her 'puter too. She makes up stories for kids."
"Oh yeah? That's awesome. I make up stories for grown-ups."
"Ayla, stop annoying Mister Damon."
Before I could speak, Ayla shouted, "He makes stories too, Momma."
Mandy raised an eyebrow, and I said, "I write novels based on my time in the Army. It's really helped with the PTSD."
"That's great. I'm working on a children's book. It gives me something to do."
"Do you have a publisher?"
She laughed.
"Oh, no. I'm not sure I'm there yet."
"Well, I'll be happy to give you my agent's info. She's a great gal."
Mandy smiled and I swear I melted.
"Maybe when it's finished, Damon."
"Good. By the way, Ayla wasn't bothering me. In fact, since I'm sitting out here anyway, I was going to offer to let your kids play on my play set. I just cleaned it up and oiled the swings."
"Please, Momma!"
Mandy smiled again, and I was glad the table hid my lap.
"Okay. Are you sure it's no trouble, Damon?"
"100%."
"Go and get Billy, sweetie."
Ayla was off like a shot.
I laughed and said, "Oh, to be young again."
Mandy asked, "Would I know any of your books?"
"I don't know. Do you read many war novels?"
She giggled, "No."
"Then probably not. Although, they made a movie out of my first one last year. It did pretty well on Netflix."
"Really? What's it called?"
"Dangerous Toys."
"I saw that!" She shrieked. "I love the actor who played the lead. He's cute."
I laughed and shrugged.
"Yeah, most women feel the same. My sister drooled over him the entire time we were visiting the set. Her husband got a lot of loving on that vacation."
She laughed and I continued, "He gave me a signed head shot and I'll give it to you. I certainly don't need it."
Our attention was drawn to the kids. Ayla was trying to lift her brother up onto a swing.
Mandy excused herself and walked over to help. I could watch that woman walk away from me forever. It's too bad I could never be with her.
