Chapter Eight
Hannah
Pulling the box out of the backseat of my car, I moaned. I’d learned that Brett had been serious when enrolling me in his boot camp. Yesterday, he’d awakened me in the same manner, but I’d managed to report on time, with socks and shoes on my feet. I’d grinned a bit seeing the look of disbelief cross his face knowing that he’d not have a reason to give me either an incentive or order me to my knees. We’d run a mile and a half and it hadn’t been any easier than the day before.
Today, I had stolen the need for ungodly pot banging by setting my alarm for 5:25 a.m., only to learn that weekdays’ rise and shine was at 5:00! After dragging myself through two miles, Brett praising me the entire way, I’d forgone a shower, dropping back into bed the moment he left for work. What had shocked me was that, once prone, all I could think about was all the stuff I had to do.
Now, at eight o’clock, I was lugging the box of t-shirts up Stephanie’s sidewalk.
“Hi! Come in!” Stephanie said, opening the door with a big smile. “I’ve got coffee and muffins.”
I really didn’t deserve her cheerful greeting or the offer of food, but I wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. “Thanks, and I want to say I’m so sorry about being such a…” Man, the truth hurt sometimes, but I plowed ahead. “A bitch.”
“No, no, I understand. You’ve always had such high expectations, and if you didn’t like the shirts, I wasn’t going to complain.”
Now I felt even worse. “No, I was definitely out of line. You did a great job. I just have a bit of trouble letting go.” Taking a seat at her kitchen table, looking around her spotless, gleaming kitchen, the aroma of freshly baked muffins in the air, I shook my head. “Though how you managed to get them done so fast, keep a house so neat it could be in a magazine, and bake is beyond me.”
Stephanie laughed and brought over a mug of coffee and the plate of muffins. Sliding into her chair, she spooned some sugar and poured some cream into her own cup before answering. “I’ve been an army brat my whole life. I grew up with schedules practically covering every hour of the day.” She picked a muffin off the plate. “I always swore I’d marry some laidback dude who couldn’t care less about housework or schedules, but, what can I say? I fell in love with Gary and he’s just as strict as my folks if not more so.”
“Still, your house looks amazing and these muffins are incredible,” I said, taking another bite and practically moaning, which had nothing to do with sore muscles.
“Thanks! So, did you keep out a shirt for yourself?”
“Um, no, why?”
She cocked her head. “I thought that chairing the committee meant you would be joining the team in the run.”
“Team?” I asked, never once having considered actually participating other than advertising the event.
“Sure. All of us are going to run. Won’t you consider it? We’d love to have you, and it will be fun.”
I could feel every muscle in my body urging me to say hell no, but I realized that, other than being with women on various committees, I hadn’t really made any close friends. “Well, Brett and I have started running every day, but I’m warning you, by the time we get home, I feel like I’m going to either die or puke.”
“That’s all right. I’m sure we’ll be doing more walking than running. How many kilometers are y’all running?”
“Um, no idea about kilometers, but every day he’s been increasing the distance. This morning it was two miles.”
She laughed. “Then you’re almost there! Five kilometers is only a little over three miles.”
“It is?” I asked, never bothering with anything other than miles, inches, or yards.
“Yup. Hey, at the rate you’re training, you might want to consider entering the Mudder Run. You get sponsors to donate so much money per mile or event conquered and the money goes to support our wounded soldiers. Gary and I are going to do it. He’s done them before, and I’ve watched but never entered one. But, it looks like a blast!”
“How far is that run?”
“Anywhere from ten to twelve miles, but it’s not just a run. You get to climb ropes, walk across beams, scale walls, swing from rings, and crawl under and through stuff. Granted, you’ll be exhausted when it’s over, but it’s for such a good cause.”
I couldn’t argue with that, but knew I was in no shape to enter—not without looking like a total loser. Still, something about the excitement she showed was compelling. “I can’t climb a rope to save my life.”
“You can join me to train if you want. I’m not very good, but I can probably give you a couple of tips. And, to be honest, it would make training a lot less boring if I know that we are encouraging each other.”
“When is this… what did you call it?”
“Mudder Run.”
“Is that named after some veteran?” I asked, finishing my muffin and telling myself I did not need another one.
She laughed again. “No, it’s because of the mud.” Evidently seeing the confusion on my face, she continued. “Every obstacle is surrounded by dirt and mud. Half the fun is trying to get through it without losing your shoes. Oh, don’t wear really good ones as you’re supposed to leave them at the finish line. They are cleaned and donated as well.”
“Wow.” Remembering the fun Brett and I had with the water hose and the shower sex we’d shared afterwards, I could feel my face flushing. I suddenly had a great idea. “When do you train? I mean, is Gary around?”
“No, just me or maybe a few other women, why? I promise Gary wouldn’t tease you.” She grinned and leaned forward to get another muffin. “He’d encourage you and praise you for trying. The only one who’d get a smack on the ass would be me.”
I almost spewed the mouthful of coffee I’d just taken. Surely she wasn’t… they didn’t… Managing to swallow with only a cough into the napkin she quickly handed me, I said, “Um, no, I just meant that I’d kind of like to make it a surprise. You know? It would be fun to shock Brett since he thinks I’m basically a slug-a-bug.”
“Well, we’ll show him,” she said, lifting her cup to clink it against mine. “We’ve got three months to train. With your runs and our training sessions, you’ve got plenty of time to get ready. It would be so neat to have you both on the course with us.”
I left Stephanie’s house feeling better about my life than I had in a while. Sure, life with Brett was great—well, when he wasn’t smacking my ass, but that had only happened once. I finally felt as if I could make a good friend and surprise my husband with something other than a messy house and a stressed-out wife.
After dropping off the dry cleaning, I went to the PX and bought some new sports bras, socks, and picked up an extra pair of running shoes. After going by the commissary and picking up groceries, I went home. I filled a crockpot with potatoes, carrots, onions, mushrooms, and after searing the pot roast I’d bought, added it to the pot.
I was watering the plants when my phone buzzed. Hopping up onto the swing, I answered the call.
“Hannah? This is Judith Powers. I’m sorry I’m late returning your call but we went out of town. What can I do for you?”
Dread filled me as this woman was married to General Powers, and I was about to do something frowned upon in the military. I was going to retreat.
“Thank you for calling me back,” I said, wishing my legs were long enough to be able to push the swing. “I’m so sorry, but I won’t be able to chair the committee for the Harvest Dance.”
“Oh? May I ask why?”
“I’m just so busy… I mean, I know you’re busy too, but…” Biting back a sigh, I told her the truth. “I sort of let things spin out of control and, well…” Okay, so I hadn’t told her the whole truth, but I was not about to confess that my husband was actually determined to get me under control and how he planned to accomplish that feat.
There was a pause and I wondered if she was even now jotting down a note in some book to inform her husband to put a big black mark against Brett’s name. I just couldn’t let the blame fall on him. “To be honest, Mrs. Powers, my husband is right. I’ve let too many things at home go. I really want to do all I can to help out with everything, but… well, I’ve got to put my husband and my home first.”
“I totally understand, dear. It’s easy to overcommit, and you are always the first to volunteer and do an exemplary job.”
Startled and a bit shocked, I said, “Thank you. I feel just awful, but, well, I know that Marsha Higgins has been asking to take on more, and I think she’d do a great job chairing the committee. Oh, and I’m not saying I can’t help. I’d love to do something as well—just not be responsible for the entire thing.”
“That sounds lovely. I’ll give Marsha a call. And, Hannah?”
“Yes?”
“You take good care of that man of yours. I guarantee the greatest happiness you can achieve is having a good marriage.”
“Thank you.”
Hanging up, I sat with the phone in my hand and just looked out over the yard. Seeing the willow tree, I smiled.
I spent the afternoon scrubbing the kitchen floor. If I had to drop to my knees again, at least they wouldn’t be grimy when I got up. There was no way I could get my house in proper order quickly as I’d ignored it far too long. It would also take a few days to clear off the dining room table, finishing the baskets, flyers and printing out the invitations. But I couldn’t help but feel that I’d put a dent in things by the time I took a quick shower and changed into a sundress. The house smelled like pot roast, and I’d set the kitchen table by the time I heard Brett pulling into the garage.
“Hi,” I said, meeting him at the kitchen door.
“Well, hello,” he said, removing his hat and reaching for me. After a long, toe-curling kiss, he set me back. “You sure look pretty, but did you change your perfume? You don’t smell like lemons.”
I laughed. “No, you’re smelling eau de pot roast. It will be ready by the time you’ve showered and changed.”
I could see the pleasure in his eyes and it made me feel great. We actually enjoyed our dinner, and talked during it instead of scarfing down fast food. He had seconds and complimented me until I was beaming.
“I also took the dry cleaning in and the t-shirts to Stephanie. She was so sweet about it.”
“She’s Gary Carter’s wife, right?” he asked, spearing another baby carrot.
“Yes. Why?”
“No reason, I’m just putting faces to names. He’s not on my team, but Gary’s a good guy. He was wounded in Iraq but has recovered amazingly well.”
I hadn’t known that, and Stephanie hadn’t mentioned it. It made me feel even more determined to make a good showing in the Mudder Run. We spent some time talking about his day and then he helped me clean up.
“You don’t have to, you know,” I said as he grabbed a dishtowel. “You’ve worked all day.”
“Babe, I might be old-fashioned, but I’m not a Neanderthal. I certainly don’t mind helping out with some of the housework. Especially when I know you spent a lot of time making that great meal.”
“Thank you. I’m glad you enjoyed it. I can’t wait until those veggies come from our garden.”
“How about we enjoy our coffee on the swing?” he suggested.
“That sounds great as long as you help me up. I had to hop to sit when Mrs. Powers called.”
“Hold that thought,” he said, and we carried our mugs out to the porch. After setting them down on a small side table, he sat and then lifted me onto his lap.
I told him about the call while we sipped our coffee. “She wasn’t mad at all. In fact, she told me that taking care of you is the most important, rewarding job I could have,” I paraphrased.
Brett bent down, pausing when his lips were a fraction of an inch from mine. “Not only a nice woman, she is very wise.”
The kiss was wonderful, and I wondered why I’d ever gotten too involved with things outside our home. This, us, sharing a meal and conversation, washing dishes together, me sitting on my husband’s lap while he gently pushed the swing with his foot… this was special.
* * *
On Wednesday, as we passed the obstacle course, I stopped but kept jogging in place. “Can we try to run the course?” I asked.
“Really? I thought you were against exercise.”
I rolled my eyes, gesturing toward my legs, which were still pumping up and down. “What do you call this?”
He chuckled. “A forced run?”
That was true, but I now had a mission. “I just want to mix it up a bit.”
“Okay, we’ll give it a go,” he said, and I followed him across the field. “Of course, we won’t be alone for long. The companies will start running through here soon. We’d have to start about an hour earlier if you want privacy.”
Mission or not, no way was I going to get up at four o’clock in the morning. “Um, I’ll pass on that. We don’t have to do it all. I just want to see what’s involved.”
What’s that saying? Be careful what you wish for? By the time Brett had showed me the first part, which consisted of a raised beam to traverse across, the monkey bars where I discovered I’d lost every bit of my school yard prowess and couldn’t go further than two bars before losing my grip, and the tires that had me catching my foot and going down on my ass, I was already exhausted. When we arrived at a wall, I shook my head, so very grateful for the ranks of soldiers I could hear arriving.
“Let’s not get in their way,” I suggested.
“They wouldn’t mind,” Brett countered with a grin that told me he knew I was about to drop.
Batting my eyes, I smiled. “I’d hate to show these poor soldiers up. Besides, we haven’t finished our run yet.” As I passed him, I squealed when he popped my ass, suddenly finding the energy to run just a mite faster.
Once we got home, he again massaged my feet and legs. “You know, that almost makes running worthwhile,” I said with a soft moan of pleasure.
“I’m proud of you, babe. Tomorrow we won’t run.”
I sat up, propping myself on my elbows. “Why? Is camp over?”
He laughed. “Not by a long shot. But your muscles need time to get used to working. On the days you don’t run, we’ll do more exercises at home. We’ll add some weight training.”
“Brett, I do not want to be some muscle-bound monster!”
Sitting back, he bent his arms and flexed his muscles. “Are you saying I’m a monster?”
“No.” Well, I’d thought that but that was days ago. “No, honey, you are a very handsome man. But I’m a girl.”
“Your gender does not mean you can’t build some upper body strength. You were a girl when you used to swing on those monkey bars on the school playground, right?”
I couldn’t deny that, and Stephanie had said there would be bars to conquer. “All right, as long as I don’t wind up looking like the female version of Mr. Clean.”
After he’d left for work, I lugged all the flower-making supplies to the living room and moved the rest of the stuff off the dining room table. I wasn’t finished with those projects, but I was making headway. By the time the doorbell rang, I had my seven-layer dip ready and had made coffee and iced tea.
Opening the door, I was greeted by a half dozen women, all carrying their contributions for our potluck lunch. “Come in,” I said with a smile, and as Nancy passed, I said, “Oh, my God, that smells fantastic!”
“Thanks! Shall we eat first?”
Remembering Brett saying I tended to be overbearing, I turned to the others. “What do you think?”
Staci said, “I’ve had to smell those enchiladas on the drive over. I’m definitely up for eating first.”
It wound up that no one had an objection, and after setting everything on the table and grabbing a drink of choice, we fixed our plates.
Before I took a bite, I looked around the table. “I want to apologize to all of you. I’m sorry for being so mean. I hope you can forgive me?”
“Of course we do,” Nancy said. “We all get carried away at times.”
It was a fun afternoon. Tissue flowers multiplied so much faster with more hands to fashion them, twist them onto wires and secure them with tape. By the time they helped me carry the boxes we’d filled back to the bedroom, I felt that not only would we be able to finish on time, but that perhaps I could make more friends.
Brett was pulling into the drive as the last guest left. I ran back into the house and started grabbing glasses, plates, and cups that we’d been using all afternoon for little breaks of drinks and coffee. Dashing into the kitchen, I had almost made it to the sink when he opened the door.
“I’m sorry. I lost track of time and the ladies just left. Dinner will be ready in just a minute. I hope you don’t mind, but Nancy left a pan of enchiladas for us and I’ll make some guacamole.”
“Honey, relax. It’s fine. How did the flower making go?”
Putting the dishes in the sink, I smiled. “Really good. Staci Everett showed us how to make these really gorgeous roses. We only have about three hundred more to make.”
He whistled. “That’s still a lot, but I’m glad you had a good time.”
Pulling me to him, he held me close but cupped my chin to tilt my head back. “Hannah, you’ve been doing a wonderful job, but I’m not expecting you to have a home-cooked meal on the table the moment I come home every night. It’s true I don’t want fast food on a daily basis, but I understand that you’ve got things to do as well.”
Smiling, I said, “Thank you. Go shower and I’ll get the rest of the food ready.”