Thankful For Holly

John pulled his truck to a stop in front of the house at the ranch, where he and Holly spent those five nights after their wedding. It had been a simple wedding but it was John’s favorite day.

Pastor Forest had married them right here in the south pasture of the land, just over the ridge. There weren’t a lot of people present, but the ones that counted were. His mother, her father, and a handful of their friends had all come to the ranch for the special occasion.

His barefoot bride had worn a white sundress, cut low enough on her chest that the tips of her scars from the lumpectomy were showing, but she hadn’t cared, and he had loved that. She had worn her hair down, falling over her shoulders, the way he liked—the way that she may never be able to wear it again, once the medicines would cost her the gorgeous hair.

She had been so beautiful that day, the sun shining above her, her radiant smile, and the love that sparkled in her eyes.

And that night, she had made love to him—with the lights on. Her wedding gift to him. The greatest gift he could have asked for. She gave him herself, all of her, scars and all.

The screen door on the front porch swung open and out sprung a cheerful three year old, her golden hair bouncing and glowing in the evening light, a broad smile on her face, and her little feet racing toward him.

“Daddy!” She squealed.

John smiled at the little girl and crouched down to catch her as she flung herself into his outstretched arms.

“Hey, Margie. What’s up?” He asked, looking into the little violet eyes.

“Grandma’s here.” She announced. “So are Uncle Jake, Aunt Elizabeth, Karen and Little Ben and Grandpa Floyd.”

“No kidding?”

“Grandma made chicken for supper.”

“That sounds good. I’ll be right in.” He told his daughter.

She looked just like her mother. Everything about her was just like Holly. She even had a stubborn streak and from time to time, John really thought he was arguing with Holly when the little girl set her mind to something.

What a surprise Margie had been.

He remembered how angry he had been at Holly when she decided to postpone the treatments because her pre-treatment blood work had discovered their little honeymoon surprise.

Even the doctor had told her that if she decided to have the baby, and not go forth with the treatments, that it could cost her precious time, but Holly would hear none of it.

No, she had made up her mind. She was going to have this baby, if it was the last thing she did—quite literally.

John watched her grow and swell, and his anger grew everyday.

Holly on the other hand had loved every minute of her pregnancy. She had giggled when the baby kicked, she hadn’t minded the little nausea that she had experienced—she had even told John that it was a much better sickness than chemo because this was a sickness caused by his love for her. She was carrying John’s baby, and she couldn’t have asked for anything greater. She was so happy during those nine months.

She was even happier when she had given birth to the beautiful child, a little girl that they named Margerie Crystal Callahan.

Such conflicting emotions tugged at him. He was elated at the birth of his daughter, but he was terrified with what lay ahead of them.

It had been harder than he imagined.

It hurt like hell to watch her get so sick. To watch her vomit until he was sure that there was nothing left for her to throw up. To hold her shaking body against him until she finally drifted into sleep. To sit next to her bed all night, watching the rise and fall of her flat chest, holding his own breath, praying that she would find the energy to take another for herself.

He watched, helplessly, as she wasted away to almost nothing. She had no energy, and the energy that she did muster she saved for the baby.

It was the hardest thing he had ever done, and at the same time it was so magical. Neither one of them knew if there would be a tomorrow, and they made every second count. It was difficult and trying, but he had never considered anything else. He loved her. Next to her was where he belonged, no matter how badly it hurt. He would stay at her side until the very end.

John sighed while he followed his daughter into the house. It was quiet and empty inside. John tossed his brief case on the bench near the front door and glanced around at all the things in the room that reminded him of Holly. All the little touches she had added to turn this house into a home, their home.

He started to walk toward the kitchen, stopping to smile at the picture of their wedding day. God, how he loved her.

“C’mon, Daddy!” Margie demanded in her stubborn little voice. “Everyone’s out back.”

John smiled and did as his daughter told him to, stepping out on the back porch of the house. His eyes landed on the patio table that his mother, Joan, was hunched over, setting it for supper. Elizabeth, his siter-in-law, sat at one of the surrounding chairs, folding napkins, while Floyd, Holly's father, sat in another chair conversing with the two women. Joan lifted her head and smiled at him, which he returned before turning his attention to his brother, Jake, and the children.

Jake was chasing the children around the barn yard, and Karen, Little Ben, and Margie were all running and screaming in a playful game.

His eyes drifted over the yard, watching the children for a moment and then shifting to the flower beds that surrounded the back of the house. He smiled fondly at piece of land that Holly had turned into a bright explosion of color and wonderful fragrances.

His eyes landed on the beauty sitting in the middle of the bed, surrounded by bursts of pinks, purples, and reds. She pulled at the weeds and plucked of the dead foliage, and he didn’t think that she had seen him yet.

He walked over to the edge of the flowerbed and looked down at her. She looked lost in thought as she worked in her flowers, and her short spiky hair was showing since she had stopped wearing wigs and hats. It was coming back in slightly darker than it had been, but she said that once it had been there long enough for the sun to hit it, it would lighten again.

She had lost a lot of weight during the chemo and radiation, as well, but now that she had a clean bill of health, she was starting to regain some of it. She had received a bilateral mastectomy when Margie was only two months old, and had since had reconstructive surgery.

John had told her not to do that for him, but he knew that she was doing it for her as well. She wasn’t as sensitive about her body as she had been when they first met. She knew that John didn’t care what she looked like, or the scars that she had, but she still took pride in the way that she looked and she wanted the reconstructive surgery, so John had agreed with her.

Holly looked up when his shadow was cast over her, with a broad, beaming smile.

“Hi.” She said, standing and brushing the dirt off of her hands. “How was your day?”

John smiled, wrapped an arm around her waist and plucked her right out of the flowerbed. “Better now.” He said to her as his head leaned into hers for a long hard kiss.

Holly giggled and wrapped her arms around his neck, melting into his passionate greeting.

“I missed you, today.” He whispered once he had finally pulled his lips off of her.

“Really?”

“Uh-huh.”

“I missed you, too.”

He gently sat her feet on the ground, but didn’t let go until he was sure that she could stand on her own.

She frowned at his effort and pushed him away. “I’m fine.” She insisted. She kissed him again and then walked to the back door, where she went in to wash the dirt off of her hands before supper. John followed.

“Are you sure you feel up to working in the garden?” He asked, walking up behind her as she stood at the sink.

“Yes. I have all kinds of energy.” She said without turning to him.

John wrapped his arms around her waist and nuzzled the long neck that he now had perfect access to, since her hair was so short. As much as he loved her long flowing hair that she had when they met, he thought that he rather liked looking at the unobstructed view of her long neck.

He remembered laughing at himself, the first time he had that thought. Holly was rubbing off on him, because he had found such a pleasant surprise in something so horrible.

“I just don’t want you to over do it.” He explained between kisses on her skin.

She smiled. “You weren’t worried about me over doing it in bed last night.”

“That was different. That is what I want you to conserve your energy for. I couldn’t care less about the flowers, but you absolutely must have enough energy to make love.”

She giggled and twisted in his arms, her hands still dripping with soapy water. “I will always find the energy to make love to you.” She promised. She lifted her chin and accepted the kiss that he was leaning forward to give her.

John pressed into her and pulled against her hips with a groan when she parted her lips and guided him into her. His hand ran up the length of her body and wrapped around the back of her neck, holding her hostage until he was quite finished with her—which wouldn’t be any time soon.

She laughed and pressed against his chest, in a rather futile attempt to put space between them. “You promised Margie that you’d take her out on a horse ride tonight.” She reminded.

He sighed. “I did, didn’t I?”

“Yes, and she doesn’t forget a thing, you know that.”

“Yeah. I wonder where she got that?” He smirked.

She smiled innocently and lifted her shoulder in an adorable shrug.

“Besides,” She continued. “Your family is out there waiting to have supper with you.”

He sighed again, heavier and longer. He would rather just have Holly for supper. Instead, he reluctantly followed his wife out the back door and sat next to her at the table filled with his family.

As the family bent their heads and took one another's hand in a prayer of thanks, John said his own, silent thanksgiving.

How thankful he was.

Thankful to know Holly.

Thankful to love Holly.

Thankful to have Holly.