A Thousand Tomorrows

A Thousand Tomorrow

This is a inspiration from a Karen Kingsbury book.

Liz never saw it coming.

She became Andrew Hemmings wife the summer of 1983, back when love was all the world needed, big enough to solve any problem. So big no one imagined it would end or die.

The wedding was small, held on a hillside, in a little old church. Marriage told themselves wouldn't mean losing their independence. They were just adding another layer to their relationship, more diverse, more complex. As a reminder, during the ceremony they held something that symbolized theirselves- Mary a small camera and book, Andrew a soccer ball.

A soccer ball.

That should've been a sign because soccer was Andrews first love, how could a man have two lovers. But at the time- with half the guest in flowing nice clothes and flower wreaths- a soccer ball and a book and camera seemed hip and new, a spit in the face of tradition and martial bondage. No three-price suits and starched aprons for Andrew and Liz.

Andrew had soccer contract and a expensive, pretty new house a few miles from the beach. Liz was a run away, and started a new life by starting college to become a math teacher. They would live as one. Him in his soccer uniform and her teaching, ready capture the new paths in their future.

Babies? They would wait at least five years. Maybe ten. She was only 19, still a kid herself. Marriage would mean finding new and heightened way to love each other. Saturdays at the field and Tuesdays relaxing, taking photographs of the beautiful world around her.

That was the plan, anyway.

But God didn't get the memo, because Mary was pregnant three months later and gave birth to a baby boy shortly after their first anniversary. Luke Robert Hemmings. Little Lukey. Mary spent less days at school and more in a baby blue room. She spent most days and nights walking a crying baby, heating bottles and changing diapers.

"Sorry I'm not around more," Andrew told her. He wasn't use to babies. Besides, his career was just kicking off. He had to spend more time at the gym and field.

Mary told him she didn't mind and the funny thing is that she really didn't. Life was good at home. Mike was happy about bring a father, because Luke was all boy from the moment he was born. His first word was even ball, and Andrew bought him a pair of running shoes as soon as he could walk.

The years that followed were a blur of vibrant reds and happy yellows. Andrew was coming into his own, Each season showing him faster, more proficient at catching the long bomb. There was no warning, no sign that life was about to fall apart.

When Luke was nearly five, Liz learned she was expecting again. Still, it wasn't the baby coming, but Andrew. He was making it towards the goal, when his knees buckled, ankles twisted.

A torn anterior ligament, the hospital reported. Surgery was scheduled; crutches were ordered. "You'll miss a season" the doctor told him. "To be honest, I'm not sure you'll ever play the same."

Six weeks later Liz gave birth to Ben Hemmings.

From the beginning, Ben was different. He didn't cry the way Luke had and slept more. His fussiest moments were during feeding time, when milk would spill out of his nose, causing him to choke, cough and sputter.

Andrew would look at him and get nervous. "Why is he doing that?"

"I'm not sure" Liz kept a burp rag close by, dabbing the baby's nose and conceiving herself nothing was wrong. "At least he isn't crying"

Either way, Andrew wanted to be gone. As soon as he could he was back training, working harder than ever. By the next season he was able to play, but he was more than a second slower on the forty.

"We'll try you at special teams, Hemmings," the coach told him. "You've got to get your times down if you want your spot back."

His future was suddenly as shaky as his left knee. Andrew began staying out late after the game with the guys, drinking and coming home with strange, distant look in his eyes. By time Ben was two, Andrew was cut from the team.

By then they new the truth about Ben.