Eleven months ago
"You ready to head back home, Mrs. Armstrong?" he asked.
"I guess. I just wish this feeling could last forever!" his new wife told him.
"If we make it a priority, I don't see why it can't."
"I know they say 'all good things must come to an end', but it would be so wonderful to have another two weeks added to our honeymoon."
"I couldn't agree more," her husband said. "But two weeks from now we'd be facing the same thing, right?"
She sighed then told him, "You're right. As always. Okay, Mr. Armstrong. I suppose I'm ready to go home. If we have to."
"Well, we do have the room for another hour. Is there anything we could do in just...one hour?" he said as he took her in his arms.
"Hmmm. Let me think," she said as though this was a tough one. "I suppose we could do that thing we've been doing the last two weeks."
"Ah, yes! That thing. I like the way you think," he told her before gently pushing her back onto the bed and making love again to his wife of 15 days.
Doyle Armstrong was a general contractor who'd learned the trade from his father. He'd been around job sites since he was in Kindergarten and could build pretty much anything from a designer wall unit to a gorgeous, multi-story home. In fact, he and his new bride, Chelly, had finished the blueprints together for their dream home during their honeymoon.
Doyle's father had not only been his mentor but his best friend making his death a little over two years ago an unbelievably difficult loss. His mother was still dealing with the aftermath, a shooting by a former employee who'd been fired and returned looking for vengeance. Doyle's father and the general manager who'd fired the man were both gunned down in cold blood along with another employee before the gunman took his own life.
Had it not been for Chelly and the unconditional love she provided, Doyle wasn't sure how we would have been able to move on. But she'd been there for him each and every day and her presence made his life not only worth living again, but a joyful celebration. He couldn't speed up the healing process for his mom, but Chelly had done that for him, and he loved her with all his heart.
"You are so beautiful," he told her as he lay beside her after coming inside her for the second time that morning.
"And you are so handsome," she told him truthfully.
Both of them were very good-looking people. Their looks made attraction possible, but it was their loving, giving personalities that kept them together and allowed them to love each other with such passion.
They'd met not long after the death of Doyle's father, and after a very slow beginning, romance blossomed and love bloomed culminating in their wedding just two short weeks ago.
"We better shower quick if we want to get out of here on time," Chelly said.
"I guess we better not shower together then, huh?" Doyle said with a smile.
"Definitely not," she said before kissing him once then getting up. "I'll only be a couple of minutes. Don't come near me until I'm dressed again, okay?"
"I can make no such promise!" he said as she walked away.
At 23, Chelly's body was hard and firm and was as delicious to him as her beautiful face which was downright gorgeous. At 24, Doyle was also a hardbodied young man made so from years of doing construction work on countless job sites.
Both of them had many admirers and still attracted a lot of attention from the opposite sex, but from the time things got serious between them, it wasn't just a cliche to say they only had eyes for each other.
"Your turn!" Chelly said as she came out drying her hair with a towel.
Doyle walked by and gave her that look.
"Don't even think about it!" she said trying not to smile.
"Oh, I am gonna think about it," he let her know making her laugh.
She was just so beautiful and amazing—inside and out. Doyle quickly showered and fifteen minutes later they were on their way back home.
"I know the rain keeps everything green here in the Evergreen State," Chelly said as they drove over Snoqualmie Pass on their way back to Seattle from a small town called Roslyn where the TV series Northern Exposure had been filmed. Both of them loved the outdoors and enjoyed hiking and camping and had spent two weeks exploring the area on their honeymoon.
Roslyn was on the leeward side of the Cascade Mountains in eastern Washington and located in the transitional area where things went from lush green to dry and brown. They were now well back into the western side of the state where gray skies and rain ruled the day. It was too warm to snow, but it was still very cold and raining like a banshee, and even with the wipers on high, Doyle couldn't see more than maybe 30 yards ahead.
He was driving 45mph on Interstate 90, and yet it still felt too fast for the conditions so he slowed down another five miles per hour and turned on the emergency blinkers.
"Yeah, we do get a lot of rain, but it doesn't usually come down in buckets like this," Doyle said as he strained to see the road up ahead.
"Just be careful. If you get yourself killed, I'll never forgive you," Chelly teased.
"Me? If I lost you, I'd kill myself!" Doyle said with a smile even though he wondered if that might not be true.
"Well, I'm not going anywhere, Mr. Armstrong," she said with a smile.
She leaned over for a quick kiss and against his better judgment, Doyle did the same. He only took his eyes off the road for a second, maybe even less. As his eyes looked back to the front, he saw yellow flashing lights, and his brain told him to hit the brakes and swerve.
He thought he heard Chelly scream when she noticed the semi stopped in their lane, but wasn't sure as he cut the wheel hard to the left in order to go around it. However, the tires wouldn't bite the road and the car drifted broadside into the truck with the point of impact hitting the passenger door at about 35mph.
When Doyle came to he was strangely aware of being in an ambulance, but unaware how he got there. He could see faces and hear voices, but nothing made sense as he tried looking around. And then he remembered.
He tried to sit up but his chest was strapped to the gurney and his neck and chest felt like they were on fire when he moved.
"My wife! How's my wife?" he asked now feeling desperately afraid.
"Just try and relax, sir," the EMT told him.
"Don't tell me to relax! Is my wife okay?" he yelled as loudly as he could.
