Ella was going to be an amazing mom, and I was happy for her, but I wrestled with my feelings for her and my desire to have a family of my own.
I was lonely. I was ready for love again. Scarlett had wanted that for me, and so did I. I wanted a family. I wanted laughter on this farm and to teach my little ones to ride a horse, to be called Papa, and all of it.
Lord, please don’t make me suffer through watchingsomeone else swoop in and love Ella and her children,I begged. Because if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t just want any woman or any children on this farm making memories with me. I wantedher. I wanted those twins. I wanted to do right by James, a man I hadn’t known and yet respected, by raising them to know him and love him. But I knew that Ella wasn’t ready for all that and might never be. She might only see me as a dear friend, which would kill me, but I would accept whatever made her happy.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Ella
Anna had to go back to Seattle, but my mom stayed a few more days. Seth was kind enough to give me the time off, and I spent it going through the guest room with my mom and trying to decide on a plan for the nursery.
“I don’t even think this room will fit two cribs, a rocking chair, a dresser, and all the things,” she said.
It was a tiny room, and we hadn’t spoken again about her offer to move here or for me to go to France. I was thinking, and she knew that.
Honey padded over to a box and started pecking at it incessantly as if the mere act would reveal food for her inside.
“Stop that silly.” I scooped her up, and she snuggled her into my arms, purring.
My mom laughed. “That chicken is a cat!”
I smiled. “My favorite cat-chicken.” I stroked Honey’s neck.
“We might have to move the nursery to the master, and you sleep in here. I’m gonna start dinner for us. It’s getting late,” my mom said and left to go downstairs.
I sighed, trying to envision raising twins in this room. I peered out the door my mom had just walked through and thought of all the sacrifices she’d made for me growing up. Things had been hard with my father and then better when he’d passed, and though we were no longer subjected to his abuse, things were hard in different ways. Financially hard.
Now, my mom was finally about to live her dream, and I didn’t want to ruin that. She had the big book deal and French citizenship, and all of that would blow up if I asked her to come help me, but I didn’t want to do this without her.
Honey woke up, leaped from my arms, and then began pecking rhythmically at the box again.
“There are no treats in there!” I told her and opened the box to show her. When my gaze fell on the stack of cards, my heart stopped.
I picked up the one on the top and opened it.
It was our second wedding anniversary card from James. He was the most thoughtful and romantic writer, and seeing his handwriting now gutted me.
Ella,
Two years ago today, I stood across from you and vowed to love you with everything I have, and somehow, I love you even more now than I did then.
You have this quiet strength that steadies me. This laugh that disarms every hard day. You pray with a kind of faith I want to grow into. You’re my best friend, my safe place, the answer to so many of my prayers.
I don’t know how I got so lucky, but I promise I won’t take you for granted. Not today. Not ever.
I’ll spend the rest of my life learning how to love you better and thanking God that He saw fit to cross our paths.
If we get 60 more years together, it still won’t feel like enough.
Forever yours,
James
I burst into tears, my grief raw and fresh as it split back open like a wound. But this time, I didn’t blame God. I ran to him.
Lord, I loved him so much. Help me move through this loss, I prayed.
I couldn’t help it. I opened another card because I missed James so much.
