Bucket List of Hope

By DJ Erfert and Debra Erfert

What's the natural thing to do when you find out your boyfriend has three other girlfriends? How about jump out of an airplane?

Hope Alexander decides to create a bucket list of adventures to experience instead of finding another heartache.

After discovering her boyfriend was dating three other women at the same time, Hope soundly dumps the two-timing, lying, dirty quad-crossing snake, and swears off dating until she experiences a list of adventures. Her first solo adventure? Skydiving. Taking that perilous leap of faith that her parachute would open and she wouldn't die took courage. She was ready for more, but a determined, and very hot firefighter interferes with her plans.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Debra Erfert
• Release date: Feb 17, 2023
• ISBN: 9781959375074

Book preview

Prologue

I changed my mind!

The tornado-like wind tore the panicked words from my lips the moment I spoke them. The plane’s open door where the experienced skydivers had already jumped looked innocent enough when six grown men sat between the open door and me. But now the huge, gaping hole seemed monstrously evil. It laughed at me, like it knew my irrational terror as I stared down at the geometric patches of green and brown landscape with my stomach crammed up my throat. My fear of heights had plagued me since childhood. Something as simple as a tall slide gave me sickening pangs inside my stomach. Standing near the window in a high-rise building made me nauseous and dizzy, like the view could pull me over the side, straight through the glass.

I moved to grab the door frame. The man attached to my back by an umbilical had other ideas.

We fell from thirteen thousand feet.

The icy wind stabbed at my skin, keeping me from passing out. I had no choice but to greet death with my eyes open. Head on. I looked up. A man from the dive company pointed to his helmet and then waved. My brain clicked on. I’d paid extra money to have my first experience recorded. With my face pushed back into a perpetual, flapping pseudo-smile by the wind, I waved back at the guy. He gave me a thumbs-up sign. I gave him a gesture right back.

Jerry—or was it Gary—my overenthusiastic diving instructor, took hold of my wrist and led my fist to a red ball dangling from a short cord. I unclenched my hand and pulled the ball. My backpack fell apart—and then swoosh . . . our parachute opened, jerking our free fall into a slow, gentle descent. That intense fear of dying I’d had for the past sixty seconds vanished, and just like that, I remembered everything they had briefed me on in the pre-jump class.

Above my head, I grabbed the steering toggles in my fists and gently pulled down on the right. I laughed as we turned clockwise. I tried turning in the other direction. No problem. My heart raced, beating with a freedom that had escaped my tenuous grasp for the twenty-seven years of my life.

Cary—or was it Barry—tapped my shoulder and pointed down toward the ground. My gaze followed his urgent index finger to the red X below. Time to land. How could two minutes speed by so fast? Larry put his hands over mine, providing me with the help I needed to maneuver in the right direction. A moment later, I pulled my knees up to my chest. I never felt Perry touch the dirt landing pad. Only the sight of the chute floating down in front of us told me my first bucket list adventure was officially over—and I didn’t die doing it. My heart soared with joy.

I did it! It didn’t beat me! I shouted, setting my sneakers down on the ground. Too bad my legs felt more like freshly cooked pudding than flesh and bones. Harry fell on top of me when I unexpectedly collapsed. My lack of muscle coordination didn’t stop me from laughing. When the umbilical on my back was disconnected, I turned over. The little name patch on the instructor’s dive suit read Terry.

What didn’t beat you, Hope? Terry asked, kneeling by my side. He took off his helmet while another guy rolled up the chute.

My chicken-heartedness, I said, smiling. Terry unbuckled my harness and helped me sit up.

I knew you could do it. He slid the straps off my shoulders. I never saw anyone look more determined.

I felt that way, too. More than determined, really—knowing I’d checked the hardest adventure off my list gave me a sense of pride. An overwhelming satisfaction that I completed something I feared the most, alone—with the exception of the man attached to my back—settled warmly in my chest.

Thank you, Larry—

Terry—

Right! I nodded. How could I forget that?

Chapter One

It was a well-documented fact that a watched phone didn’t ring. Or in my case, my iPhone didn’t play the pirate’s theme designated specifically for my boyfriend. I lifted my phone and resisted the urge to dial Matt’s number. Instead, I scrolled down the contact list to a divorced friend from work. Since it seemed I didn’t have a date yet again, watching a movie with another woman might be fun.

Hello, Hope, Bethany said. Her raspy voice sounded sultrier over the phone.

Caller ID was a truly great invention. I practically never had to identify myself. Hi. What are you doing tonight? It wasn’t really a fair question for the mother of two teenagers with no social life that I knew of. Beth was ten years older than me, yet we never had a lull in our conversations, which made her the perfect person to socialize with—if I didn’t have a real date.

"Just sorting laundry. The kids want to order pizza and watch Jurassic World, again."

How about you have your fifteen-year-old watch her brother and we go see that newest sequel?

Oh, what a great idea. I could use a huge dose of Chris Pratt tonight, Beth said, her voice conveying her enthusiasm for my idea with every slow, lowered syllable. Tell me, Hope, why aren’t you talking to Matt instead of me? It’s date night for those with husbands and boyfriends, you know.

I sighed, though not loud enough for Beth to hear me through the phone. I didn’t want her to know that it seemed lately, my loving boyfriend spent more time working than trying to spend time with me.

He told me he’d call if he got back early enough from his conference in Flagstaff, but I guess he didn’t.

What kind of conference can a water man go to?

I was getting lightheaded sighing. He’s a reverse-osmosis salesman, Beth, and they need to keep up to date with the latest technology if they’re going to be competitive. I so sounded like Matt after I asked him the very same question on the phone Wednesday night. He was packing and made an excuse for not being able to come over for dinner. But he also made sure I knew his career would be enhanced because of the conference, which would mean a promotion for our future lives. He wanted the best for us. He said he loved me. How could I complain about that?

What time do you want me to pick you up? Beth asked.

How about six? We’ll have time to eat before the movie.

With my hot, personal-sized sausage pizza in one hand and a large Coke in the other, I walked into the screening room with Beth a good thirty minutes before the movie was scheduled to start. The lights were on, and a few seats had been taken already, but not where I preferred to sit.

Let’s go up there. I pointed my boxed pizza up toward the top of the stadium-seating area.

I’m up for it, Beth said, balancing her hot dog on top of her soda while reading a text. Are you sure you want to climb that high?

I didn’t pay attention to her sarcastic remark. I’d paid for her gourmet dinner, so she shouldn’t tease me about my little fear of heights. I took each step with my left foot before I brought up my right—it helped me feel safer. After the lights went out, all I could see was the screen anyway, so as long as I could manage the steps without falling, I was fine. We scooted to the middle of the row and sat down in the high-backed rocking seats.

There was something so delicious about eating junk food at a movie. It wasn’t the best pizza I’d ever had, but the atmosphere added an extra flavor of enjoyment, and the Coke had more fizz to it. While we ate our meal, Beth told me about how well her kids finished out the school year. The pride in her face was apparent as she chatted with a smile.

More cheerful people drifted in. Couples came together on their date night. There were families with children. But I didn’t expect to see my boyfriend walk in carrying two sodas.

Matt. I sat up straight and put the empty pizza box under my seat. He came.

Beth sipped her drink. How did he know we were here?

I don’t know.

I watched, expecting him to climb the stairs, but his face wasn’t pointed up near the top to where we were sitting. He looked in the direction of someone in the second row. The smile that spread on his lips when he turned and walked over to a woman with platinum-blonde hair took away my breath.

Oh, Hope . . . Bethany whispered.

It was only after Beth spoke that I noticed my heart beating unreasonably hard. A moment later, my neck throbbed in pain. Heat flushed over my body when Matt sat down next to the woman. When they leaned close enough together to kiss, pain clutched my chest. I couldn’t be sure they weren’t just whispering; the seat backs were too high.

I gave Bethany my purse. Hold this for me. I got up.

Beth grabbed my elbow and asked in a quiet voice, What are you going to do?

What was I going to do? I shook my head. I didn’t know. I only knew I needed to see what they were doing—together. Beth released my arm, and I slowly made my way down the steps, trying to think, but I couldn’t form any thoughts. I took in a slow breath and focused on how warm the air felt as it left my lungs before taking in another breath. If I concentrated enough on that simple physical function, then I stood a chance at staying conscious.

Did he call and I missed his ringtone? No—no! I had waited on him, again. Maybe it wasn’t even Matt. I needed more evidence of his betrayal than just him sitting next to the woman—sitting very close to the woman. I quietly crept down the row one step above them with my palms sweating like I was the one with the guilty conscience. He didn’t see me sit in the chair immediately behind him. I listened.

The blonde’s saccharine voice made me nauseous. I bought a new bathing suit just especially for this weekend when we go on our cruise to Cabo. I can’t wait to try it on for you.

A shudder vibrated its way between my shoulder blades. They were going where?

You going to model it for me tonight like a good first mate?

The moment I heard Matt’s sultry tenor voice, the tiniest hope I had that I was wrong, that he wasn’t sitting with his arm around someone who wasn’t me, faded away. They were going on a cruise. Matt was going on an adventure, but with another woman. No, it couldn’t be.

Of course I will.

They stopped talking again. This time I had no doubt they were kissing. I pressed my fist to my chest and tried to stem the sickening pain squeezing my heart into the size of a peanut. I couldn’t feel my pulse. I stood up and went to the steps, but instead of going back to my seat, I turned and walked down the row just below Matt and the blonde. They were still entangled when I knelt on the chair in front of them and stared. I had to see her, or it wouldn’t be real.

I wasn’t sure where my bravado came from. Curiosity pushed aside the treachery I’d felt only moments before. It could be I didn’t feel like I had anything to lose. I cleared my throat loud enough for the blonde to break the suction and pull away while she giggled.

I recognized the woman. She worked in Matt’s office, although I didn’t know her name. I went to the office once to see if I could take him to lunch. When he saw me walk in the door, he hustled me out so fast, I never had a chance to meet his coworkers. Now I knew why. Anger built in my soul. I turned my stare to Matt. His sensual smile melted away when his gaze finally focused in on my face. His shoulders noticeably straightened. The blonde had her hand in his, or he might’ve moved his arm out from around her back.

Hi, I said to the woman. Did you know that Matt has a girlfriend? What I thought was a witty and cutting question wasn’t.

The blonde smiled as she cuddled against his neck, and with her fingers walking their way up his chest, she said, Of course I do. We’ve been together for six months already.

Matt’s face went totally white.

I stood up, and the big room swayed a moment. I couldn’t breathe right. Air came in short, pain-filled gasps. I stared at Matt. You . . . you . . . she . . . I thought . . . My head spun. Tears filled my eyes. I couldn’t be near him any longer, and I ran down the aisle and out of the theater.

I pushed through the river of bodies streaming in the hallway, their faces blurred into colorful blobs by unshed tears trapped in my eyes. I didn’t stop until I reached the busy sidewalk, where I finally broke down and cried. Using a concrete planter as a bench, I sat down, covering my face with my hands, smothering the sounds of my dying.

Crying all weekend didn’t help me feel better. All it did was leave my eyes puffy, my vision out of focus, and the strength drained from my muscles to the point of exhaustion. Lying in bed cuddled around a soft stuffed bear, with Silly Kitty curled near my feet, I tried to work up any emotion, good or bad, about not going into work that morning. I stared at the digital clock on the side table. It was close to noon already. I rarely called in sick, but facing Beth again after she found me sobbing inconsolably would be humiliating. She had probably told Julie, my happily married best friend whose work cubicle sat immediately next to mine, about what happened. Julie no doubt would ask about details that I’d rather forget.

Beth had cursed out Matt on the short drive home. Her colorful language was a side of her personality she’d kept well hidden, one that she’d probably cultivated after her husband abandoned her ten years ago, leaving her to raise their two small children on her own. I guessed she never thought about the possibility that I could forgive Matt if he ditched his new girlfriend and begged me to come back. Could I? Forgive him?

I’d waited on Matt so many times over the past year. But that first romantic year was wonderful. We dated like any regular couple. We fell in love. That could be why I didn’t notice it before. About a year ago, his constant attention had slackened. I just thought he took his career more seriously, but considering he chose to lead a double life, one that included the blonde, now I understood why our time together had diminished. The occasional Saturday when he took me to lunch seemed more like a mercy date now that I thought back on it. Every sweet word he told me, everything he did, was suspect. Instead of the dedicated businessman I thought him to be, he really was a two-timing, lying, dirty double-crosser.

How many days had I squandered away waiting on him? Weeks? Months? Did I put off living my life for those years when I could’ve had adventures like he was having now? My emotions fluctuated between hurt and anger so many times over the past three days, they became one sensation. The tears had dried up, leaving my face feeling like thick plastic, but I didn’t care.

I closed my eyes and willed sleep to overtake me again, but the sound of pirate’s music caused my heart to jump. Matt was calling me!

I hesitantly reached for the cell phone. What would he tell me this time? Would he beg my forgiveness or tell me I misunderstood? I picked the phone up with conviction in my heart. I knew what I saw, and I knew the guilt in his face.

I touched the green accept icon, then put it on speakerphone and did my best to sound like I hadn’t been crying since I ran away from him nearly three days ago.

Hello, Matt. He didn’t answer immediately. I sat up, scaring Silly Kitty to the floor, and blinked, trying to bring the little icons on the phone into focus. The timer counted up, so the connection wasn’t severed.

Uh . . . this isn’t Matt.

I dropped the phone to my lap in shock. It was the other woman. I recognized her voice.

What do you want? I heard myself saying the words, sharp and uninviting.

Are you the woman from the movie? The one who—

I am. I interrupted her question. I certainly didn’t need her to repeat the last incoherent words I spoke to Matt. Who are you?

I . . . I thought I was Matt’s only girlfriend—at least he told me I was his girlfriend. And then you yelled at him that night.

I didn’t remember yelling. I lay back down and listened, but she stopped talking.

How did he explain me? I asked.

He . . . Matt told me you were a client of his and that you were stalking him.

I sat up again. That singular emotion of hurt and anger morphed into rage. I was a—a stalker?

But I know you’re not a stalker.

Well, at least she had a functional brain cell that could hold some amount of logic.

How do you know I’m not?

Because . . . she gasped.

What was that I heard? Was she crying?

What’s your name? I asked.

Stephanie Page. She sniffed.

She was crying. Stephanie, you’re calling from Matt’s phone.

Yes, I am. Matt went to get lunch for us from the ship’s cafeteria, and I went through his contact list.

The ship’s cafeteria? You’re on the cruise to Cabo right now?

She sniffed again. Yes. We’re headed back—almost to San Diego.

That had to be quite an adventure he was on, taking poor Stephanie for a ride if she suspected he wasn’t telling her the truth about who I was.

Did he tell you my name?

No, but I found four women’s first names with no last names—only their telephone numbers. Charlotte. Diana. And I— She gasped. I was one of those women.

And I was, too? I had a pretty good idea what the answer was before she even said it.

Yes. I called the two other women and neither one of them knew about Friday night, so I knew they weren’t you. And they didn’t know about me, either.

I flopped back onto the bed and let her words sink into my numbed brain.

She continued. Matt was dating all four of us at the same time.

A course of chills spread up my arms, raising the hairs on my skin.

I’m sorry, Stephanie, I told her, and I meant it. She sounded just as hurt as I felt when I saw them together. Why wouldn’t she be? It made sense. Did he tell her he loved her, too? Did he love her? Why didn’t he break up with me if he wanted her? It would’ve been kinder.

Me, too, she said quietly.

He’s lower than a snake’s belly, I said, barely audible. A two-timing, lying, dirty double-crosser.

Quad-crosser!

Huh?

There were four of us, Stephanie said. She sniffed again. But I made sure his other girlfriends knew about us. If they have any self-respect, they won’t speak to him again.

Like us? I asked, hoping she’d join in with me and dump the jerk.

She sniffed a few more times, and her voice caught when she said, Yes, like us.

Even before Stephanie had said goodbye I felt better, at least about Matt. I was really angrier with myself for not being more independent while I dated him. He never asked me to marry him—not exactly. He’d hint at our future together and keep me emotionally tied up with him. But I’d woken up! I felt a renewed sense of life—one where I was taking charge. I’d plan my days from now on with me in mind and no one else. I wanted adventures, and I wouldn’t wait for anybody to take me.

I kicked back the covers and got up off my bed. The hot water from the shower washed away the regret I’d felt for the past three days. If things worked out the way I wanted, after a while I’d look up Stephanie and thank her for calling me—and check to see if she really did dump Matt like she said she would.

I walked out into the small kitchen with clean, wet hair and clothes not meant to wear to bed and went over to where my laptop sat on the table. I knew what I had to do. First, I needed to make a list of adventures, ones that would challenge me as well as my stupid fears. I did an internet search on skydiving and started planning my bucket list. Before the summer was out, I was going to jump from a plane, on my own, even if it killed me.

Chapter Two

Two Months Later

I set my bowl of hot macaroni and cheese on the kitchen table and opened the lid to my laptop. A single tap of a mouse pad connected me to the cyber-world. Silly Kitty agilely jumped up on the table and poked her liver-colored nose into the dish.

Uh-uh. No, you don’t. I moved my bowl over to the other side of my computer. You don’t get to lick until I’m finished. I know where your tongue has been.

Smiling, I gently stroked her furry ghost-gray head. She purred softly, rewarding my attention. Do you love me, Silly Kitty?

She nudged my hand once more before jumping to the floor. She sat only a few feet away with her back toward me and licked one paw. I turned to my computer, my feelings only slightly hurt by the indifferent feline.

I didn’t think so.

It had taken me another month to figure out a good list to accomplish, and since I didn’t want to spend my entire life doing it, I limited the adventures to twenty-one exciting activities. Three weeks after I found a reputable skydiving company that had good reviews, I’d signed up. I had completed my skydiving adventure without breaking a bone. It was a wonderful feeling.

Now I needed to write about it on the blog I designed last week. I loved what I had decided to call it: Bucket List of Hope. Not only did it have my name in the title, but it clearly showed my intentions.

The blog’s background showed two kayakers paddling for their lives down a beautiful white-water river. I imagined that the lovely river bisected Arizona, my home state. Although I wasn’t wild about drowning alone in a small plastic boat, being in a bigger rubber raft surrounded by a group of willing paddlers seemed like a totally doable deal.

I still needed to do a search on companies and launch sites. In the meantime, my Spanish class was scheduled to start Tuesday night after work—another one of my goals.

I clicked on the new post tab while I formulated the opening line in my mind.

A Great Leap of Faith

Saturday, August 12

Today I took a great leap of faith and fell out a rickety, old plane’s door at thirteen thousand feet up in the air. No, it wasn’t by accident, or a practical joke gone horribly wrong. I actually wanted to fall out of the plane, and even paid a small fortune for the pleasure of being terrified—except the fear didn’t last longer than the time it took the pilot to reach jumping altitude. Okay, plus the one full minute we were free falling, but in the grand scheme of things, that’s barely a tiny knot in the big spool of thread that’s life. Uh . . . a