Today is a "go back to bed" day, I thought sleepily as I walked back into the bedroom after dropping Jase and Jenna off at school. The tea earlier hadn't woken me up at all, and I had a whole list of errands to get done before the kids got home from school.

Saturday was the Annual Cowboy Ball, a charity event that Justin's company donated to yearly. The proceeds went to local foster care organizations. Since Justin was in upper management, he had to go to represent the company.

I didn't mind getting out of the house and dressing up. In fact, I was looking forward to a night out without the kids. The only problem was that I didn't have an outfit for it. Being a hyper-procrastinator, I just couldn't decide what to wear. The event wasn't fancy, but it wasn't casual either, so I was torn between a county style dress and cowboy boots, or tight wranglers and a country shirt finished with cowboy boots. The one thing I did know; I wanted cowboy boots.

Scouring Pinterest for ideas only added to my list of possibilities for outfits. It was too late to order anything but, fortunately, there were many stores in Houston that stocked "western clothes." Again, the only issue was making that final style choice.

Unlike me, Justin was the complete opposite – always on the ball, and prepared weeks in advance for meetings, projects, and events. His ability to be organized for a trip days before we left drove me crazy, while I scrambled to get me and the kids packed just a few hours before we were scheduled to leave. Justin always offered to help, but I never accepted it. Getting help was never my thing; I preferred doing everything on my own. What I was trying to prove, and to who, I wasn't sure.

Justin had bought his outfit weeks ago, as soon as he'd received our tickets to the event. The suit was washed, pressed and currently hanging in our shared walk-in closet.

I wanted to look as good as him; be worthy of being at his side. Justin would look stunningly handsome, and I was positive I would be fighting the women off of him. Putting off buying my outfit, even after all the research I had done, made the decision-making worse. My biggest problem was being over critical about my appearance; never feeling good enough to be his wife. His dark looks overshadowed my light features. Watching him, sometimes I was jealous of Justin's natural good looks; no one could deny his strong striking, perfect form.

I knew we looked well together – my shortness made it so that my head tucked effortlessly into the crook of his shoulder, his black hair set off the red in my auburn hair, his hazel eyes made my blues ones' sparkle, and his olive skin made my pale skin shine with a healthy blush.

We were picture-perfect.

Justin's only imperfection was the slight hump in the middle of his nose from one too many fights in his wild childhood, while my nose was straight and petite, matching my petite figure and face. His thick bushy brows highlighted his deep eyes, and my manicured brows framed my large eyes. Both sets shining with only love for each other.

There was no other person for either of us; we only had eyes for each other. My low self-esteem when it came to comparing myself to him was unnecessary, but yet it still lingered when events came up. Would I look nice enough? Would I look like a mom? Would I be labeled a "house mom"? Would I look frumpy compared to the other wives who had executive careers? The questions that plagued me the most were: was I enough? And if so, for how long?

"Honestly," I mumbled to myself as I crawled into bed, wishing it was still warm from earlier that morning. No heat lingered, only the indentation of where two bodies once laid, our limbs entwined to become one. I heaved the thick velvet blanket over me and snuggled into the satin sheets, breathing in the musky scent of Justin.

"Just one hour," I whispered as I closed my eyes, preparing for what I knew would actually be a two-hour nap. A smile crossed my rosy lips as I began the descent into dreamworld. I wouldn't be needed for at least two hours; nothing was planned until soccer practice later. Without a hint of guilt, I relaxed into the daze of sleep.

Sweet slumber was only minutes away; the bliss of it just barely out of reach, dangled in front of my closed sleepy eyes. I would have grabbed it, fully possessed the slumber it teased me with, but then the phone rang. My body jerked fully awake. Damn it.

My hand reached under the feather pillow, searching for the invader of my nap. Soon, I found the offender, my cell phone, the iPhone7 Justin had surprised me with last week. I hadn't had a chance to go buy a case for it. Each time I used it, I saw it falling from my hands and shattering on the ground. Today, I would buy a case as its slimness made it seem fragile, and I was a certified klutz.

I ignored the call, breathing in the silence when the ringing stopped.

Whoever it was could wait.

I'd been up late last night, waiting for Justin to come home from a meeting then a catch-up with some friends. Usually, I would have gone to bed to read or lightly dozed off, but he had insisted on riding his motorcycle to work. Then, afterward, he wanted to stop and get a drink with the "boys" from work.

The nights were getting warmer; the spring air putting the riding itch into him yet again. With the weather being more hospitable to riding, I knew I would have to deal with more late nights of waiting for him to return from a drive around the lake. The lake was his favorite place to ride. I had to agree: the ride was beautiful, although I never rode on the motorcycle with him; the scenery from inside the car was breathtaking enough. The air at the lake was always crisp and fresh, something you don't find in a big city. No smog or pollution; just the sweet smell of nature.

On our wedding day, Justin's grandmother told us the secret to a long loving marriage: one – never go to bed without resolving a fight, and two – always wait up for each other and never fall asleep until you are both home and safe.

It was mostly me waiting up for him though, his job kept him out late, but I didn't mind knowing he sacrificed a lot of things so we could have a beautiful life. Every night that I watched him walk through the door, knowing he was safe and where he belonged, made up for all the tired mornings. Last night had been different though; something kept me awake while I waited, watching reruns of Bones.

Getting up from the couch when I heard the familiar click of the lock turning, and the slight squeak of the garage door opening, relief had swept through me, knowing Justin was home, safe and alive. It didn't matter that I had to wake up in a few hours. Besides my small photography business, I was a stay-at-home mom. I knew that the next day was an easy one and that if I wanted to nap after taking the kids to school, I could. I was fully aware of how easy my life was, and I appreciated everything Justin had done for me; every time he gave up something to make sure his family was well-supported and taken care of. I was lucky; so many women and children didn't have it as good as we did. So many went without, while I had everything.

I was raised by a single mom until I was fourteen. When my mom had finally married my stepdad, life got easier for the both of us. Mom was finally able to relax and be home. It had been the first time I hadn't had to take care of myself.

It was my own experiences that made me love being a stay-at-home mom. Knowing the feeling of getting up in the mornings as a child, making my own breakfast, lunch, and dinner because Mom had to work two jobs to support us. I knew loneliness and the pathetic comfort of the TV on long lonely nights. I could understand the embarrassment and longing to have Mom come eat lunch with me and show up to Bring a Parent to school days. It was my own memories that kept me from complaining about always doing the laundry and dishes; I was happy to do them. I was delighted with housework as I enjoyed keeping the house clean. I looked forward to having lunch with the kids at school. I was the first to volunteer for activities. I lived my life knowing the opposite side wasn't as wonderful as the side I was on.

Sleep lumbered on in the horizon, but it was quickly disappearing over the hills of new thoughts of going for a quick jog. A slow jog, no, more of a power walk. With a deep sigh, my hand found its way to my slightly rounded belly; it was once flat before children had rounded it out and graced it with tiger stripes that I wore proudly. Was there less roundness? I wondered with my eyes shut, longing for my brain to switch off for a moment so I could nap. Impressed with my belly feeling a little firmer, I thought back to the jeans I wore yesterday. Hadn't I mentioned to Lydia that I needed a belt to keep my jeans up?

Well, if that wasn't motivation to get up and take a jog around the neighborhood, I didn't know what was.

I threw off the warm blanket and pulled myself up slowly; letting my feet dangle above the cool floor. One last longing thought of staying in bed – a nap would have been so nice – then I stood up. An invigorating jog would be better.

Happy, and now fully awake, I pulled on my favorite pair of yoga pants and matching tank and quickly got ready to jog out the front door... Before my excitement escaped and the bed called me back, begging me to cuddle back up under its soft hug, promising sweet rewards if I just listened to its lies.

Returning to the bed, slowly, the thought of a nap colliding with the ambition to exercise, I gently slid my hand under the covers, searching for the phone that I had tossed carelessly to the side. I found it hiding in the folds of the blanket, and looked briefly at the missed call to see if they left a message. The number was local, but I'd never seen it before. Seeing that they left a voice message, I quickly decided to check it later. The number didn't belong to the school or Justin's office; most likely a telemarketer.

I shoved the phone into my bra, the perfect place to hold it while I straightened out the bed, making it look less like a slob slept here and more like a hurried teenager made it. It was good enough; if I didn't get out the door soon, I never would.

Heading out the door, my brain nagged me about the phone number. The day felt off, my enthusiasm for jogging decreasing by the second as I tried to figure out who had called.

Just check the voicemail, I told myself, shaking my head at my hesitation. It wasn't a photography client; they would have called the studio number or contacted me through email.

With a defeated sigh, I sat down on the front porch stairs, phone in hand, and stared at the screen. Did I miss an appointment? No, I had checked the calendar this morning; there were no appointments for the rest of this week. Just some emails that needed to be sent out to Jenna's class concerning the Valentine's Day Party, soccer practices, and a photo session later in the week.

Just check the stupid message, Jessica! Then you can be excited again and go for that jog.

The phone vibrated in my hands, sucking me back into reality. CHARLIE flashed on the screen. Eyes rolling, I pondered whether to answer. What did my father-in-law want this early in the morning?

While never close to Charlie, I adored my mother-in-law, Susan. Susan was everything I wanted to be; laid back and calm. Nothing got to her. Life is only lived once was Susan's motto. I had never seen Susan get angry, overwhelmed, or lash out. All her grandchildren begged to visit her. Susan couldn't be called a pushover; I had seen her effective way of getting the grandchildren to behave. And it worked. I had tried everything to get the kids to do chores, earn TV time, or just listen. They fought back, pacifying me for a minute and then returning to their normal behavior. With Susan, they behaved... all the time. I was jealous of my mother-in-law's ability to tame my children.

Charlie, on the other hand, was the complete opposite. He had this built-up energy that could be either positive or negative. He had high expectations of all his children and his grandchildren. When expectations weren't met, sparks flew. More than once, I had to remind Charlie that Jenna and Jase were my kids, not his, and he needed to back off. I knew Charlie meant well; he had come from a poor family where hard work was the only way the family had a roof over their heads and food in their mouths. He grew up fast; never allowed to be a child. He saved every last penny, tucking it away for the "what ifs" of the world.

I often wondered how Justin had turned out so relaxed and undaunted by anything that came up, no matter how high the stress level. I also often wondered how Susan stayed married to Charlie, but yet, somehow, they had a good marriage; love bloomed between them and one way or another, her sweet calm nature balanced out his overbearing one.

In my marriage, I was the one with the built-up energy, although I never expected my children to behave a certain way, besides being polite and having manners. Justin was like his mom, living life as it went, never going against the flow, and firmly believing everything happens for a reason. If we hit every red light on the way to somewhere, making us late, I'd be in an uproar but not Justin. He would be calm, stating that there was some unknown reason for it. Justin was my peace and little spot of calm. His easy nature eased the tension in me. With him by my side, I knew everything would work out; life would go as it should.

It was too early to deal with Charlie I decided as I pushed Ignore, once again, on my phone. Instead, I would just listen to the voice mail from the unknown caller and start that jog. After all, summer was coming up, and what greater way would there be to welcome summer than with a new smaller swimsuit – maybe a two-piece swimsuit? New energy flowed through me, energizing my muscles once again.

Let's do this! I thought as I started down the driveway, my phone now secure in the armband, and my earphones in. Music blasted through my ears.

I am strong... I am able to run three miles... I am capable of doing this... I am healthy, my motivating self-talk went as I jogged up the street, waving at my friend Lydia who was pushing Jacob, her one-year-old son, in his stroller. She must have gotten back from her Mom and Strollers walking group.

Lydia often tried to get me to go with them, but my children were long past strollers, and the one time I had gone, it was boring and uncomfortable to be the only mom there without a child in a stroller. So, I nicely passed on all the invites, promising that one day I would go again and praying, as I made the promise, that Lydia would forget I swore to go again.

The music in my ears was interrupted by a phone call. I peered at the screen; it was the same number from before. The nagging in my brain returned as I went to press Ignore again, but instead, my curiosity won the day, and I pushed Accept.

"Hello?" I breathed into the phone, somewhat winded from my short block-long jog. My stomach twisted at my words. Something was wrong. My chest felt heavy as I waited for the person on the other end of the line to respond.

"Is this Justin Poole's wife?" a man asked.

"Yes, this is Jessica Poole. Can I help you?" I quietly said.

Stopping my walk at the corner of the block, I turned to look down the street at my home. It was an inviting look, home there at the end of the street, in the middle of the cul-de-sac. So many block parties had happened there, right in front of our house with the red door. The door had to be red when we picked it out. It didn't matter that the door was made of Oak and that the color had been beautiful before. No, the door had to be red; it had to stand out against the gray stucco walls and darker gray of the trim. I insisted there had to be a focal point, something that stood out and said, "Hello," when I pulled up to it every day. I loved that door; it welcomed me home.

"This is Dr. Layton from University Medical. We have your husband here..." His voice drowned on.

Lydia was still outside with Jacob. A random thought filtered through my mind. Coffee. Maybe a jog wasn't the best idea right now? My energy was starting to crumble. Yes, coffee sounds great.

"I'm sorry, could you repeat that? I didn't catch the second half," I told the caller as I started walking again, realizing I had missed everything he had said due to me visualizing a large mug of steaming coffee.

"We have Justin Poole here. He was in an accident. We need you to come to University Medical," he quickly repeated.

"You must have the wrong person. Justin is at work," I replied, my brain becoming fuzzy.

My steps slowed down as I tried to make my way to Lydia. Four more houses to go. Yes, coffee sounds great. Coffee would kick-start me again; while preferring tea, sometimes coffee was a much-needed alternative. I longed to smell the spicy scent of it and taste the strong bitter flavor.

"Mrs. Poole, Justin was in a motorcycle accident on the corner of Riverview and Cedar. He wasn't wearing a helmet. He was life-flighted here and arrived forty-five minutes ago. I tried calling you and left a message. I've also contacted a Charlie Poole. He said he'd contact you."

Motorcycle accident? Did Justin ride his motorcycle to work this morning? Surely, I'd remember if he had. He always told me. Didn't he say he'd be back this afternoon to get it for an early ride? I was sure that he had said that.

His motorcycle would be in the garage, right where he put it last night when he returned from his drive with the boys. No helmet? He always wore a helmet. Safety first! he always quoted when the kids complained about having to wear their helmets if they wanted to ride their bikes.

"Can you hold on please?" I whispered into the phone.

My feet picked up speed with the phone tightly grasped in my fist as I sprinted to the end of the cul-de-sac. I heard Lydia calling out to me, and my name was also being called through the phone. Justin's motorcycle would be in the garage. This was just an awful prank that his buddies from work were doing to me.

Breathlessly, I skidded to a stop in front of the garage and punched in the code to open the door. The gray garage bulk of it slowly opened; each second seemed to painstakingly add years to my life.

"Mrs. Poole, are you there? Mrs. Poole?" the voice on the phone called out again.

The dam motorcycle will be there, parked next to the far wall, far enough away so that when the Mercedes' driver's side door opened, there was no chance of it hitting the bike.

It will be there.

My heart dropped. The air left my lungs. My brain turned off.

The black helmet sat on the shelf with no bike in the garage. The helmet glared at me, accusing me of not making sure Justin had worn it. My vision clouded and the world tilted on its axis. This was a joke. A bad joke.

It had to be.

"Yes?" I said, barely audible, into the phone.

"I need you to come to the hospital immediately." The male voice sounded like it was in a long tunnel, thousands of miles away.

I couldn't understand what was happening... Or was I trying to deny it?

"Is he..." My voice caught in my throat.

"No, he's responsive. He's got some cuts and bruises. He's on his way to have a CT scan."

"So, he's okay?" I gasped and sucked in a breath, my hand catching the wall of the garage to hold myself up.

"He'll survive. I need you to come to the ER," he restated, calmly but almost impatiently.

"I'll be there as soon as I can," I said, the ground staring up at me; the empty spot in the garage laughing at me.

He cautioned me. "Please drive carefully. It won't make any difference if you get here in twenty minutes or forty minutes."

"Thank you," I mumbled into the phone, then pushed the red button to disconnect the call.

My feet felt heavy, and I attempted to walk further into the garage, but they wouldn't move. Motorcycle accident. Surely this wasn't happening? Justin was always careful on his bike; he was never reckless.

"Jess, are you okay?" Lydia asked from behind me.

"I've got to go." I finally managed to drag my feet, pacing towards my black Mercedes parked in the garage, next to where Justin's bike should have been. My keys and purse were still in it from taking the kids to school earlier. All I had to do was make my body work.

"What's going on? You're so pale." Lydia gently touched my right shoulder.

I felt my knees give way then, and I fell onto the concrete floor. Pain seared through my knees, but it did nothing to stop my racing heart or the vomit that was forming in my throat.

"Justin was in an accident. I've got to go to University Medical," I murmured to Lydia, my lips dry. Bone dry. Speaking was difficult; the words refusing to form. My tongue felt swollen, and my brain was clouded with undeveloped thoughts.

"What? Wait, I'll drive you. Just let me take Jacob to Cathy's," Lydia exclaimed, helping me off the floor.

"No, I'm okay. I'm sure he's okay. I'll call you."

The fog in my head cleared slightly. I had to get to the hospital. I knew I should wait for Lydia to go with me, but each second felt like an hour.

"Well, then I'll just meet you up there." Lydia left, swiftly pushing the stroller towards Cathy's house across the street.

I climbed into the Mercedes,my mind only fixated on one thing: getting to University Medical in as littletime as possible.