Coming Home

By Teri Riggs

Abby, a young Navy SEAL's wife, must learn to cope after her husband dies in the line of duty while deployed in Afghanistan. Hoping to find closure and learn how her husband spent his final days, she heads to Bethesda to sit at the bedside of her husband's best friend, a soldier who remains in a coma caused by the same IED blast that killed her husband. But can anything mend Abby's broken heart?

After returning home to Virginia Beach, Abby's world will have to change in order to adjust to the shocking surprise she found at the hospital. Her love is soon tested to the limit once again.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Teri Riggs
• Release date: Dec 12, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393291152

Book preview

Part I

Part I

Chapter 1

Abby, Albert G. Horton, Jr. Cemetery, Suffolk, Virginia

The sky is dark and gloomy. I find it fitting because it matches the way I feel. Today I’m saying goodbye to my best friend… my lover… my husband. A piece of my heart has been ripped from my chest and it can never be replaced.

I stand before Ryan’s coffin on unsteady legs, clutching the neatly folded American flag given to me only moments before. Someone has tucked a spent shell from the twenty-one gun salute into the folds, and I hug the triangle of cloth in my trembling hands as if it’s the last link to Ryan.

Perhaps it is.

So many of Ryan’s fellow Navy SEALs are in attendance—the lucky ones not on deployment. Loyalty among the teams is a major part of what defines them. After I take my seat once again, the long line of SEAL brothers shuffle by and remove their gold SEAL trident pins, which they line up on the top of the coffin. Using their fists as a hammer, they drive the tip of the post into the lid of his casket. It’s how they show their ultimate respect for a fallen brother, and at the same time, they’re making a promise to Ryan that he will never be forgotten. With each punch against the wood, I flinch. Each hit is another painful blow to my already broken heart.

During the somber ceremony, several of the mourners break down and sob. I feel like a thousand butterflies are fluttering in my belly, begging to be released. But I refuse to fall apart in front of Ryan’s friends and fellow soldiers. I’m trying my best to be a good wife of a Navy SEAL. I want to make my dead husband proud.

The last SEAL finishes, then friends and family inch past the casket to pay Ryan their final respects. A few pat his coffin or place other small mementos on it. Some say a short prayer. I am smothered in embraces I can no longer feel. My mind and body have been numb for days. Words are whispered in my ear that I can no longer comprehend. Nor do I want to. I dare not speak for fear I will lose control. My bottom lip is swollen and chapped from biting on it. I’ve managed to keep my emotions in check throughout the funeral. And I’ve continued to remain stoic during the graveside services, the three-volley salute from the seven-person firing party, the playing of Taps, the folding and presenting of the flag, and, lastly, the somber Trident tradition of his fellow soldiers. I owe it to my heroic husband to be strong and I will get through this day. But, God, I am beyond ready for it to be over.

After they say goodbye to their son, I watch Ryan’s weeping mother, Lynn, being led away by his father. David’s shoulders are droopy and he seems to have aged at least ten years over the last few days. The usual twinkle in his eyes is gone, replaced by a dull, distant stare. I imagine if I looked in a mirror, I would see the same grief-stricken, hollowed look David and Lynn wear. What’s worse—burying a son or losing a husband? I have no answer. I only know I hurt. I hurt everywhere. Physically. Emotionally. And deep in my soul.

With Ryan’s parents gone, only my parents and I remain at the graveside. They must sense that I’m about to fall apart and stay close, ready to catch me if I do. Momma’s eyes are swollen and red-rimmed, but she still tries to offer me comfort and rests her hand on my forearm. Daddy helps me from the green, cloth-covered chair I’ve been sitting on for most of the ceremony. My legs are numb and I waver as I stand. Once I’m upright, he keeps an arm around my shoulders. Without his support, I’m not sure I could’ve stood, much less walked to Ryan’s casket. For the first time in my twenty-five years, I gain no comfort from my parents. They mean well, but the only touch I crave right now is my husband’s. I’m not ready to let go of Ryan. I doubt I ever will be.

Momma pats my arm and whispers, Abby, it’s time to go, sweetheart.

My belly churns and I’m afraid I may be sick. I swallow the acid bubbling in the back of my throat. Oh, how I’ve dreaded this moment since we completed Ryan’s funeral arrangements. I’m afraid I may not be able to say my final goodbye yet. Then again, I don’t think I’ll ever be ready. Never in a million years would I have dreamed that the first military funeral I’d attend would turn out to be the one for my husband.

Come on, pumpkin, Daddy says, his voice cracking. He tugs my shoulders, encouraging me to move. It’s about to rain.

Daddy’s right. Sometime during the service, the scent from the fresh-cut grass has been replaced by that of the coming rain. Ryan loved the rain. Will he still be able to smell things in heaven?

Momma. Daddy. Do you mind waiting for me by the limo? I want a few minutes alone with Ryan. I shut my eyes and hope they understand my need to be alone with my husband one final time before his remains are placed into the ground.

After a few moments, I open my eyes. Reluctance blankets Daddy’s face and tears stream down Momma’s cheeks. I offer Momma comfort this time and lay a hand on her forearm. Please. I’ll be fine, I reassure them. I straighten my stance, put on a brave face, and pretend I’m okay. I doubt I’ve fooled them, but they’ll respect my wishes.

My parents nod and turn in unison. They walk away, arms wrapped around each other. Such a simple act of love. One I’ll never experience with my husband again. Momma leans her head against Daddy’s arm. I know they’re grieving. Ryan was the son they never had and they were so proud of him. Momma’s sobs rip another layer away from my heart.

Thunder rolls in the distance, but a little impending rain will not scare me away. I turn back to face Ryan’s coffin, fingering the edges of the folded flag. I try to say a prayer, but my mind refuses to put the words together. I start to shake, and once again I’m forced to push down the bile rising in my throat. The dam breaks and the flood of tears I’ve been fighting all day finally lets loose.

Falling onto my knees, I grab hold of Ryan’s coffin with one hand. I’ve never felt such gut-stabbing pain like this. Nor have I ever felt so completely helpless. I’ve always thought of myself as a strong woman, but I’m not sure how to handle the emotions creating all the havoc inside me. Maybe I should stop trying to fight it and let it run its course. The tips of my fingers are white from the hold I have on the wooden box that holds all that’s left of my husband.

You promised, Ryan. You promised you’d come home to me. A coil of anger snakes its way up my spine, replacing the pain, and spews out like an erupting volcano. Damn you! I’m not ready to let you go. Not now. Not ever. I’m not sure if I’m mad at Ryan, God, or life in general.

I bow my head and pray… finally. Please, God. Please don’t do this to Ryan and me. We haven’t had enough time. It’s not fair. I didn’t even get to tell him he’s going to be a daddy in seven months. I don’t think I can do this alone. I’m selfish in my prayer. Instead of thanking God for the time He gave Ryan and me, I can only beg Him to change what’s happened. I realize it’s an impossible prayer, but it’s the best I’ve got. I’m sure God understands and will forgive me. My hand shakes as I try to wipe the wetness from my cheeks. There’s no way I can stop the tears, so I give up trying.

Still on my knees, I inch closer to the casket and lay my head on the edge of the cool, hard surface that now has four lines of SEAL Tridents running up the center. My trembling fingers tap against the gleaming mahogany. Can you hear me, Ryan? I love you so much. I know I shouldn’t be angry at you. I trace over a few of the tridents. The bumpy outlines tickle the pads of my fingers. I’m proud of the way Ryan’s friends have shown how much they loved and respected him.

I wish I could tell you this face to face. I would love to see your expression when I share my news with you. A couple weeks ago I found out we’re going to have a baby in December. The best Christmas present ever. A laugh escapes and I lower my voice. "It must have happened during the last week before you were deployed.

I guess you already know about our little one. I look upward, and find little comfort knowing Ryan is in heaven when he should be here with me. Another small indiscretion God will have to let slide. In parallel to my life, the sky has grown darker.

I run my hand over the part of the casket’s lid not covered in Tridents. I’m searching for a strength I can’t quite find. Maybe I never will. I promise our child will know everything about you. You will be a part of our baby’s life forever. You’ll always be a part of mine.

I’m not sure how long I knelt next to my husband, my head resting as close to him as I could possibly get. The birds that were singing in the trees earlier have long since left. Did they leave because of the coming storm, or have they just realized Ryan is gone? Smart birds. There’s nothing left to be happy about, certainly nothing to sing about.

Abby?

Daddy’s voice breaks through my thoughts and I jerk my head up, almost losing my balance. I dig in my pocket for a clean tissue and come up empty. Daddy offers me his hankie and I take it.

Sorry, pumpkin. I didn’t mean to startle you. Your mother and I were worried. It’s been almost an hour and the rain is moving closer. He stands beside me, resting a hand on my shoulder.

Sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’ll be ready to leave in five minutes. Daddy looks doubtful and I add, Five minutes, tops.

Do you need help up? His voice cracks.

I take his hand and give it a firm squeeze. No, Daddy. I’m good. I don’t know how to make him understand the driving need to be alone with my husband that I can’t seem to kick. I think I could stay here all night with Ryan, with or without the coming rain. My parents would probably have me committed if I tried.

The storms are moving in fast. We should go.

I look upward. Daddy is right. The rain is almost here and the gray sky is bursting with a mass of swirling black clouds.

I’m almost finished here. I don’t care if I get wet. My Ryan will never feel the rain against his face again, or soak in the warm sunshine. He won’t get to smell the fresh-cut grass or see the fall leaves dancing in the wind. There are so many things we take for granted that he’s going to miss out on. He’ll never get to hold our child in his arms.

Okay. Five minutes. My father walks slowly towards the car. Momma meets him halfway and they hug. Daddy grips her hand and leads her to the limo, and he helps her inside before leaning against the car to wait for me.

I guess this is it, Ryan. Not goodbye, but just—

The words stick in my throat