He fed the horses in the mornings, thinking how mundane the job had become without Kyra’s friendly conversation. Once, he had been irritated by her constant talking, and now the world felt empty without it. He missed her voice. And was it really that much colder already, or was he just feeling the unavoidable vacuum that her absence left behind?
Every day, he went out to look after the cattle, and he couldn’t help calling each of them by the names Kyra had given them. He told himself it was easier that way, but deep down, he knew that wasn’t why he did it.
The worst part of his day, though, was taking care of the chicks she had hatched. He couldn’t help feeling like they seemed a bit less lively these days. Their feathers seemed dull despite the premium diet he fed them. Their energy was low. He actually took one of them to an avian vet just to make sure it wasn’t all in his head.
“The labs are normal,” the vet said when he’d looked the chick over.
“Really?” Adam asked, unsure. “Can you look again?”
The vet laughed. “I’m sure. This bird’s doing perfectly well. You’ve taken good care of her. She’ll be a great egg-layer in no time, assuming that’s her purpose.”
Adam held the chicken in his arms. This one was Red, the chicken that had hatched second. And, yes, it did trouble him that he still knew that. She was not red at all. The chicken called Blue had turned out to be the red one. Red turned out to be closer to black in color. “Thank you, doctor,” Adam said, and he put Red back into her crate and took her to his truck.
He couldn’t fathom that the chickens were doing fine. How could any of them do fine when someone as amazing as Kyra Powell had been their primary caretaker and now she was gone?
It was at this point he realized that her absence was affecting him more than the animals, and he had been in complete denial about it. She had called several times since she left, and he hadn’t even picked up the phone, hoping maybe she’d leave a message so he could hear her voice without having the pressure of saying anything back. He was certain that, were he to actually have the opportunity to talk to her, he wouldn’t know what to say. He’d always been a man of few words. Only now was he seeing why that might not be ideal.
All Adam knew how to do was work, so that’s what he did. He thought of every unfinished project he still had lying around the ranch and decided to complete them. On a whim, he took Red to the hardware store to pick up the supplies he needed to finish his projects. At one point, he found himself standing in front of the paint samples, staring at shades of yellow.
“Do you need any help?” an employee asked him, startling him out of his thoughts.
“I was thinking of painting a crib I’ve been working on,” he said. “The mother likes the color of daffodils.” He was thinking of the color Kyra had chosen for the detached apartment.
“Oh, how exciting!” the employee said. She seemed thrilled to help, like she’d been waiting around for something to do all day, and he supposed she might have been. She went through the paint samples with him and helped him choose the perfect colors for the crib. The employee was pleasant and happy, but the more time Adam spent with her, the worse he felt. At one point, she noticed the chicken in the shopping cart and went on and onabout how nice it was to meet unique pets. He didn’t have the heart to tell her Red wasn’t really a pet.
He bought everything he needed and headed back to the ranch. Halfway up the mountain, he finally realized why his mood had crashed even more with the enthusiastic employee. She reminded him of Kyra — not the employee herself but the mood she was in. She was so excited about the crib project, asking him questions that were definitely none of her business. But she was so sincere in her excitement, he couldn’t hold it against her. Kyra had been like that, wide open and assuming everyone else would be, too.
Back at the ranch, he put Red with the other chickens and immediately got started on the unfinished projects he intended to finish. First, he put together the swinging bench that Kyra had picked out and left with him. No one would be able to use it until summer, but it didn’t feel right having it sit in his garage unfinished. Then, he started work on the crib.
There wasn’t much left to do as far as woodworking was concerned. It was mostly assembled, cut and sanded, ready for finishing. He primed and began to paint it, his smile growing the further along he got. The piece really did seem to come to life when he applied the yellow shade. He imagined how much Kyra would appreciate the gift when she saw it completed.
He was so focused on the project that he almost forgot to be miserable. The thought of his child using a crib he had built with his own hands lightened his heart. He hoped he would get to see his baby use the crib one day. When the critical part of his brain realized he was having such optimistic daydreams, it chided him for being foolish.
Frustrated, he shut the negative voice inside him down, saying, “I’m allowed to be happy once in a while, aren’t I?” And with that, he finally understood something vital.
The way that icy part of his brain was depriving him of happiness right now was the same way he had shut down Kyra. It wasn’t intentional at all. It was more protective than anything, a defense mechanism he’d developed in his childhood to keep himself from being gutted by constant disappointment. His instincts to protect Kyra activated that part of him automatically. All he’d wanted to do was save her from getting hurt, but in the process, he’d denied her any of the joy she might have felt about the change she was more than happy to see in her life.
He’d watched the light in her eyes flicker and go out, and he’d never fully realized that the reason it was going out was him. Not only that, but he hadn’t been protecting her from anything, not really. Whether she felt his rejection now or later didn’t really matter in the end. What he’d taken from her was the excited anticipation that every expectant mother should feel, and he’d left only worry and fear in its place.
Adam could have slapped himself as soon as he realized what he’d done to her. Even though it wasn’t malicious, it had hurt her all the same. And maybe he was letting it hurt him, too. Maybe there wasn’t anything wrong with joyfully anticipating a new life, even if you couldn’t give that life everything you thought it deserved. What was done was done, and the child was wanted now, wasn’t it? Even if Adam wasn’t going to be the father going forward, he could still share in the excitement and allow Kyra to feel that joy.
He finished painting the crib, and the next day he broke out the greens Kyra had used on the barn to add leaves and decorativeelements. He wanted to talk to her, to tell her he was sorry for not letting her enjoy her pregnancy, but something in him wouldn’t allow it. Doing so would be admitting fault, he thought, and he hadn’t really done anything wrong. All he’d really done was be honest with her. Honesty was always the best policy, wasn’t it?
After arguing back and forth with himself, as soon as he finished painting the crib, he decided that telling her he had some regrets about the way he’d handled things was the right thing to do. He hoped it wasn’t too late to call her because, if he waited until tomorrow, he wasn’t sure he’d still have the guts to do what he’d made up his mind to do.
On the third ring, she picked up. “Hello?”
“Kyra,” he said, hating that his voice instantly gave away how much he’d been missing her. “How’ve you been?”
“Doing OK, boss. How about you?” She sounded way too chipper.
Suddenly, he felt pathetic for being so miserable. She was doing fine without him. But of course she was. Why did he think she would be pining away for him the same way he was pining for her? She was a strong, positive, resilient person, and what was he? Well, he was strong, too. He was as capable as she was, wasn’t he? “You don’t have to call me boss anymore,” he said.
“Oh, right.” She laughed. “Force of habit, I guess.”
“I’m calling to let you know that I finally finished that crib I was working on.” He cleared his throat and tried to maintain his cool façade. “I don’t have much use for it, and it was originally meant for you. So, I hope you’ll accept it as a gift from me to you.”
She paused, and he could have sworn he heard a heavy sigh coming from her end of the call. “All right. Is that all?”
