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Five years later

My wife was still the most beautiful woman I’d ever encountered.

We’d been together for just over five years, married for four.

The darkness I’d first seen hovering over her when we met had been gone since that night she came bursting into the condo we’d shared throughout the remainder of our schooling.

It had taken her nearly a year to explain to me the events of that night.

Although I’d been filled with something like rage that her past had come back to touch her without her telling me, I had to admit I was happy that the monster in her past took a moment to give her the closure I now understood she needed.

For that, I would forever be thankful.

It was summer and she’d been awake since the ungodly hour of five o’clock in the morning. She’d been doing this a lot these past three months, but sleep was coming a little roughly for her. Still, whenever I noticed her slipping from the bed in the mornings, I wasn’t far behind.

My work schedule was hectic and I’d come to appreciate an early morning with my wife. But these past few months were the best, because I’d find her on the deck off the kitchen, watching the sun rising over the mountains with a tea steaming on the table and her hands caressing her swollen belly.

Every time I saw her hands on her belly where our baby was growing, I felt a sense of life that I’d never before experienced. Not for the first time, or the last, this woman made me want to fall to my knees and thank Heaven for all the beauty I’d been given in this life.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I said, coming to stand behind her. She tipped her head back and smiled up at me. Again, I wanted to fall to my knees.

“Good morning, handsome.”

“How are you feeling this morning?” I asked, my hands moving to rub her shoulders.

She groaned and the sweet sound had my lips curling up at the corners. Beautiful. Sweet. Simple. Blissful. Life.

“A little sick to my tummy, but we’ll be okay.

I have to be at work at eight,” she sighed, but we both knew she loved working at the Library in Banff.

It was a close enough drive to the house we now owned.

I’d taken over the mortgage my parents had for the house where I first made this woman mine. Now, it was ours.

“You’ll let me know if it gets worse?”

“You know I will, Dr. Davis.” She teased, and I liked that too. I also liked that I’d gotten a killer residency in the Banff Hospital. We were close to each other and close to home.

Life, if I’d written it into a book, couldn’t have been more perfect.