PROLOGUE
I lust for life. I am young. I fell into a young love only to fall tragically out of love.
~ Savannah Bushard
The whimsical pink and white roses garnished with silk ribbon and lace bouquet fall softly onto the altar. When I was planning my big day, the romantic treasures from another time and place made my heart skip a beat. Lovely little details I handpicked to set the scene for the vintage wedding, a girl’s fantasy come to life.
The guests left the church hours ago. The air is smoky as the sea of tea candles finally reach the end of their wick. I haven’t moved from the spot I’m currently standing on. The place I was going to promise my life to the man of my dreams.
It’s been two weeks since I turned twenty-one and graduated from college—cum laude. All for what? To be left standing here watching the flowers slowly wilt as I die a little inside.
I had something borrowed, something blue, and something new. My grandmother’s antique choker. A lacy blue garter belt, a gift from my college roommate, Missy. The tennis bracelet he had given me the night before at the reception dinner in front of God and all our family and friends. My platinum blond hair styled exactly the way he loved, cascading in long ringlets down my back.
After the fight in the foyer of the church, I was determined to walk down the aisle. He would be there, smiling back at me. I believed it. Our family and friends were waiting.
When the church doors opened up wide and my daddy held my arm, the tears began falling. He wasn’t there. He was gone. He had left me. So many broken promises.
I put the veil down trying to hide the tears, but everyone saw them as I walked toward the preacher in the front. My heart breaking into tiny pieces like the little rose petals the flower girl had littered only moments earlier. I couldn’t breathe. The pain was surreal. I was watching the entire thing unfold in a mist of grief and sadness.
Just moments before, my parents had been saying, “He's not coming back, Savannah. Don’t do this to yourself. We can run interference, make excuses for you, and you can go home.”
I wouldn’t listen. I had to see it for myself. He loves me, I told myself over and over.
But it happened. To me.
Because I chose not to live out of fear of what the future might hold.
I took the choice from him to have children, and now I’m paying the price.
Footsteps come closer, and I gaze into the compassionate eyes of my daddy.
“Baby girl, let’s go home. Staying here, like this, isn’t going to solve anything. You need to rest. You can contemplate your future tomorrow,” he gently says, worry etched across his furrowed brow.
“Oh, Daddy, I realize you are trying to make me feel better, but I just can’t. At least not right now. I need time to be alone. Please, just go. I promise I’ll be along soon.”
“Okay, Vanna. We’ll go. Your mother and I will be waiting for you at home,” he concedes.
“Thanks, Daddy. Love you.”
“Love you, too, baby girl.”
When the door closes and I’m finally by myself, I crash to my knees and cry, the fluffy white dress pooling around me, becoming a tissue to capture the river of tears. Before long, the tears of grief turn into tears of anger.
Why couldn’t he understand? The chance of dying if I waited and tried to get pregnant was almost ninety percent. Too great a number to ignore. At first, he went along with it. Said I was the only thing that mattered to him in this world. Everything would turn out fine. We could adopt. Those were all big promises from a small weasel of a man.
I had begged him to listen. But he wouldn’t hear of it. It was all or nothing. And I no longer had what he wanted.
I slowly rise and make my way down the aisle, glancing around at the decorations one last time. Today was supposed to be my forever day. My happy moment. The one you dream of as a little girl. But it didn’t happen for me.
I go to the bridal room to change. I stare in the full-length mirror at the intricately woven lace and buttons on the delicate handmade dress I’m wearing. I maneuver my fingers into the seams and yank hard, shredding the exquisite fabric from my body. The same way he ripped open my heart.
As I’m driving away from the church, I see a sign. “We need nurses.” In fine print near the bottom it says, “Join the Army ." I’m intrigued. I need a fresh start out of Texas. I know enough that I would enlist as an officer.
I pass by a local barbershop with a red sign blinking “Open” and pull over to park.
When I walk inside, the previous chatter suddenly ends.
“Hello, darlin’. How can I help ya?”
“I would like a haircut, please.”
An elderly gentleman ushers me forward. “Have a seat, little lady, and tell me what ya want done,” he says, turning the chair to face the mirror and laying the nylon cape over my shoulders.
“Shave it, sugar. All of it.”
“But, young lady. You’ve got golden locks down your back that women would kill to have. I’m sure ya…”
“Where I’m headed, I won’t be needing it. I want it gone.”