I had no one to blame but myself. We weren’t going to make it. I knew that, but still I pushed the gas and watched our speed tick from fifty-five to sixty. A little voice in my head whispered, “Maybe you can make it. They might save your table.”  The heavy rain pelting my windshield said differently.

“We might get there in time,” I said to Jim, but his only response was a glance down at his watch. He knew we weren’t going to make it. Jim was never late. He was always prompt, always on time. You could set your watch by Jim’s movements.

One year out from our wedding day and there was no doubt, the honeymoon was over. Before we got married, I was constantly late. I was thirty minutes late for our first date. Nearly an hour late for our wedding, but that wasn’t my fault; the shop gave me the wrong shoes for my dress.

It was the first time anyone saw a bride run, not walk, to the altar. When I got there Jim’s mumbled words burned an imprint into my brain.

“If she wasn’t late, I probably wouldn’t even be doing this.”

Like most of the issues in my life, I chose to put what I heard off for later. One thing I could not put off was the lack of change in me. I was late for the appointment, but I made it.

“I went to the doctor today, and I’m not pregnant.” His face was like granite. I couldn’t see any emotion in it at all.

“Wait, did you. Did we lose the baby?”

“No, it was a false positive. I was never pregnant.”

How we stayed together after that, I don’t know.  Jim said it didn’t matter, that he loved me. A born skeptic, I had my doubts. But he was mine, and I refused to give him up; that’s why making it to our anniversary dinner was so important. I should have made better plans. I should have listened to Jim. I should have watched the road.

I saw the deer in the road too late. Terror struck my heart, and may God forgive me: I froze.

“Tammy!” Jim shouted.

I snapped back, and turned the wheel hard, but again, I was too late. The speed, the deer, the rain; it was too much for my old tires.  The car flipped at least half a dozen times. It must have been loud, but all I remembered was my screams. I saw my life. I saw my death. I saw darkness.

When I came to, the car was full of smoke and flames. The heat seared the hair off my face and head. I screamed out to God, to Jim, to anyone.  When I thought all was lost, Jim’s strong hands ripped the seatbelt from my waist and pulled me away from the wreck just before it exploded. I had made it out in time.

My hair was gone, my legs were broken, but in my husband’s arms, none of that mattered. I was safe. I was loved. At some point I succumbed to the pain and passed out. When I awoke I was being wheeled away by paramedics.

“Wait!” I cried. “Where’s Jim. I can’t leave without my husband.”

“I’m sorry.” The medic had tears in her eyes. “I’m afraid….the explosion… he was too late. It’s a miracle you made it out in time and with two busted legs… nothing short of a miracle.”

I remember screaming at her; calling her a liar. Jim had gotten out. He saved me. They gave me a shot and I fell into darkness.

My Jim was…is always on time. It has been one year to the day I lost him. I’m two miles from the spot of the crash and five minutes from the time. I won’t be late. The skeptic in me is gone, and I know in my soul, my Jim will be there and he’ll be… on time.