"Ben, I’m pregnant,” I told my husband, Benjamin Masters, who sat in the driver’s seat of our state‑of‑the‑art mini‑van.
The way it smoothly guided us through the traffic that we faced traveling back to Andrews Air Force Base, in Washington, D.C., amazed me.
Its internal navigational system pinpointed every troublesome spot and displayed an alternate route.
When I announced I was pregnant with our first child, Ben insisted that we buy a practical, family vehicle. I had to admit that it came in handy when I needed to move a piece of furniture or chauffeur diplomats around Washington, D.C., but it wasn’t my Porsche. There was just something about being behind the wheel of my Porsche that made me feel alive.
I moved closer to him, laying my head on his broad shoulder.
He kissed the top of my head. “Oh Angel! This one’s a boy! I just know it! What do you think about the name Joshua?”
Since the day I agreed to marry Ben, he called me his Angel sent from up above. He even wrote a song for me entitled, “From Up Above,” that he recorded with his band, the Space Vigilantes. The song spent ten weeks at the top of the local music charts.
Even in the dimness of the street lights, I could see his cappuccino‑colored eyes lighting up with a brightness that would have outshone the sun.
“Joshua Benjamin Masters it is.,” I agreed, smiling broadly. “I love you, Ben.”
“I love you too, Angel.”
Just then, a bright light from an oncoming car blinded my eyes. Shielding them with my hand, I looked up at the road.
A car barreled through the intersection, then sped up and made a beeline for our car. “Ben, look out!”
Crash! Our two vehicles collided. Thrown forward, I felt my body sail through the window shield like a missile flying through a war‑torn sky. Pieces of glass erupted over the hood of the car and on the street below.
I landed face down a few feet away from the vehicle, lying in a bed of jagged glass. Even though every bone and muscle in my body ached, I lifted my head to look back at the mini‑van. I saw Ben’s dark head slumped over the steering wheel.
When I heard the piercing cry of the sirens seeking us out, I collapsed back onto the asphalt. At that moment, everything went black.