Through Infinity & thanks for the memories Synopsis:
Candice and Jason Woodruff had everything going for them: a strong marriage, the family they'd dreamed of, and successful businesses. When they made their wedding vows, they promised to love each other through infinity and beyond...but Candice doesn't remember making that vow. Candice doesn't remember the last eighteen years.
After a medical emergency, Candice awakens to find herself a married mother of four. She's surrounded by a loving family of strangers, but Candice struggles to claim an identity while learning to be a wife and mother.
Candice is no longer the same woman Jason fell in love with all those years ago. Can they learn to love each other in this new reality?
Through Infinity is one woman's journey as she rediscovers the love of her husband and children. But will that new found love be strong enough to carry them through infinity and beyond...
thanks for the memories:
Jason knew Candice's biggest Christmas wish was to remember the past eighteen years. As Thanksgiving approached, Candice retreated further within herself. Jason enlisted the help of their family and friends to grant Candice's wish. Each shared their cherished memories and placed them in a tin. Surprised to find the collection of tins, she couldn’t help but wonder what was inside.
With each memory, Candice felt a little more connected to the life and people she’d forgotten in the wake of her accident. Each one brought a sense of fulfillment and longing. When Christmas day arrived, would Candice be able to say thanks for the memories?
Each time I approached the daily canisters, the excitement would grow until I could barely contain it. It was like being a kid on Christmas morning. And there were still twenty-five days to go! This morning, however, I was nervous. Day eight’s canister had a warning on it; NC‑17. Worry caused my stomach to knot as I popped the lid off the canister, which was a little heavier than I expected.
Without looking to see what else was in the canister, I slide out several sheets of paper and began to read. This memory came from Macy.
This is a memory I’ve tried very hard to forget, but I relish the chance to disabuse you of the notion that my brother has always been so suave. You and I have an agreement to never discuss sex—well, your sex life anyway—and that stems from the events I’m going to tell you about. I only wish I was there to see your face. Maybe you could ask Jason to record your reaction for me. Embarrassing you is one of my favorite pastimes. This story is sure to do the trick.
You, me, Jason, and the guy—I think his name was Rob, all I remember about him was he was built like a brick shit-house but dumber than a box of rocks—anyway, the four of us rented a beach house for the Fourth of July. We’d all gone to bed, but I was awake because Rock Boy snored like a freight train. As I was contemplating smothering him with a pillow, I heard you scream like a cat whose tail had been stomped on. Worried about what happened, I jumped out of bed and rushed to y’all’s room.
Without thinking, I shoved open the door and rushed in, yelling, “What’s wrong?” That’s when I stopped long enough to take in the fact that my brother was butt-ass naked and trying to help you as you flailed around on the floor twisted in the covers from the bed.
Jason began to scream at me to get out while you kept screeching, “Oh my God! Oh my God!”
I spun around to hightail it out of the room, since as best I could tell the two of you were okay for all intents and purposes, but I turned the wrong way and ran into the door frame. “God damn it, mother fucker!” When the pain, receded I began to plot my revenge.
The next morning you and I were lying out on the beach by ourselves while the guys fished, so I asked what the hell happened last night. Watching you blush and sputter to answer was almost enough to satisfy my desire for revenge, but not quite.
“Well, I was…you know…” You widened your eyes and looked down like I should know what that meant. I did, but I wasn’t letting you off that easy.
“You were what?” I raised my eyebrows and tried to appear confused.
You looked everywhere but at me and said, “I–I was go–going down on him—,” I did my best not to shudder in revulsion at the thought. “—and I went to raise up to move my hair, ‘cause it was getting in the way and I was worried about getting it on my mouth and gagging on it. He thought I realized he was close to…you know—”
“No, I’m afraid I don’t.”
You huffed at having to spell it out for me. “So I went to start again, but…but he finished, and it went all over the side of my face and hair. It just wasn’t expectin’…it surprised me, that’s all.”
At that point, I couldn’t hold it in any longer; my laughter erupted. I don’t think I’d ever laughed as hard as I did at you and how shocked you were.
“So, wait, you’ve never had a guy, like, come in your mouth?”
“NO! I’ve only been with two other guys, and we just did—normal stuff.”
I shook my head at how naïve you still were at twenty-two. “It’s perfectly normal. And it’s not nearly as bad as you think.”
I could definitely picture myself being embarrassed at sex and trying new things. It was a feeling I had become familiar with, despite how patient and understanding Jason had been. He never pushed. Sometimes I wished he would; it would make it so much easier than trying to figure out how to broach the subject.
“You should try it,” I encouraged you. “But make him eat pineapple. Makes it taste better.”
After that, I let the subject drop until Christmas. We do a Dirty Santa exchange every year, and that year I made sure to rig it, so you got the gift I picked especially for you. Now, you can open your gift.
P.S. I knew you wouldn’t open it before you read the letter. You never do. ;)
Curious, I pulled out what felt like a bottle wrapped in Christmas wrapping paper. Ripping open the paper, I held a bottle of face cream. I read the name, Giz Face Cream. Macy had used stickers to change whatever the name brand had been.
I laughed so hard, Jason came in to see what was so funny. I showed him the bottle, and he turned beet red.
“What the hell is this?” he asked.
“It’s Macy’s way of paying me back for her walking in on me giving you a blow job when we were first dating,” I explained as I handed him the letter.
He skimmed the first page before handing it back to me and shook his head. Not sure it was because he couldn’t believe she brought it up or if he was trying to forget the resurrected memory.
Gathering my nerve, I asked, “So, did we ever take that to the next step?”
Confused, Jason answered my question with a question, “What next step?”
Just great; I was going to have to spell it out, so I went for it. “Did I ever get past the freaking out at the thought of you coming in—ugh—my mouth?”
Against all probability, Jason became even redder. “Yeah, umm, yeah, we managed to figure out a few things.”
“Umm, well, maybe, we could try again.”
His eyes darted left and right. “You mean, like right now?”
“Well, no, ugh, not right now. Dawson’s around here somewhere.”
Jason nodded his head and wouldn’t quite meet my eyes. “I better go take care of some things,” he stuttered.
“All right,” I agreed. “But you might start eating pineapple. I hear that makes it better.”
“Noted,” he called over his shoulder before leaving the room.
Later on that afternoon, I walked into the kitchen to find Jason and Dawson baking.
“Watcha makin’?” I asked Dawson.
“Pined apple wrong side up cake,” he proclaimed proudly. “Daddy gots all kind of pined apple stuff ‘cause he sayed it tas’e good, and we’re gonna to be eatin’ wots of it, but furst we’re makin’ a cake.”
I glanced over at Jason, but he didn’t say anything, just gave me a knowing smirk before going back to layering pineapple in the bottom of the pan.
Libby Austin Bio
One day some words came to mind, so I wrote them down. Soon the words became sentences, which formed paragraphs, which, in turn, formed chapters. Before long, those words had become a book.