And Trinity wouldn’t survive another tragedy. Some days, she felt like she’d barely survived the first one.
“I’ll think about it,” she’d said to her mother when she’d kissed her goodbye at the door, her father stepping in for a group hug sandwich that nearly stole her breath. He had been an absolute godsend that day, picking Mia up from school and helping her with her homework while Trinity tended to sick little Liam whose fever had yet to break. Joe had even started on the turkey costume, and it had been music to Trinity’s ears to hear her father and her daughter laughing at the kitchen table while also making a noise that sounded only remotely close to a gobble.
Laughter had become a rare visitor in their home lately. Calvin had been the jester of the family, always getting a giggle from his children either through his playful antics, their tickling bouts, or his endless repertoire of jokes that were aimed for the five and under crowd. Without him, Trinity felt the absence of that innocent joy so deeply, and she still hadn’t figured out how to fill that void.
Well, she knew one step she could take for Mia, at least.
She waited until that evening when the kids were tucked in, Liam with a bowl placed next to his bed even though she doubted he would need it. He’d been able to keep down a bland meal of toast, applesauce, and half of a sliced banana for dinner, and his fever was finally what she’d consider low-grade. She prayed he was a taking a turn toward health, and that the rest of the family would remain unaffected.
As soon as she had washed her face and applied her favorite moisturizer—the one Calvin had purchased on their Napa honeymoon from a sweet little apothecary shop walking distance from the inn where they’d stayed—she slipped into one of his old t-shirts and pulled back the covers on the left side of the king-sized bed. It wasn’t the side she had slept on when he was stillalive. She’d always slept on the right, Calvin insisting that he take the side closest to the door. It reminded her of when they’d walk down the sidewalk and he would gently urge her closer to the storefronts so he could be near the curb and the cars passing by.
The mattress still bore the indentation from where he used to sleep, and for a time, it almost felt as if he were still there, cocooning her in his embrace. Yet, somehow over the last few months, the space didn’t feel like Calvin’s anymore. She’d gotten used to occupying his side of the bed. Now, it would feel strange if she were to return to her old side.Thiswas her new normal, and she hated how Calvin’s presence seemed to fade from her life a little more with each passing day.
She had needed him today. He wouldn’t have been able to take off work, but he would have been in her corner, cheering her on with his texts, his phone calls, checking in to see how Liam was feeling and if Mia had gotten off to school without much fuss. Even when he wasn’t physically around, he was still there, still her partner.
But now he was gone. Permanently. There would be no texts, no calls.
With her back pressed to the headboard as she sat upright in bed, she closed her eyes, released a long breath, and did the only thing she knew to do in situations where the chasm of grief felt so deep, she couldn’t climb her way out on her own. She prayed. Sometimes it was long-winded, asking for guidance and assurance with desperate words strung together in a sort of lament. Sometimes it was short, just a few whispers of a plea for help. Other times, there were moments when words failed her entirely and all that remained were the groans of a heart still split clean in two.
But she always felt better after her prayers, even when her sorrow was at its worst. Tonight was no different. As soon as sheopened her eyes again, her world felt a little less off kilter. She’d learned there was a rhythm to grieving. You had to acknowledge the pain just as much as you sought to heal.
She was just about to turn out the light on her nightstand when she glimpsed her phone illuminating from its charging station. A text. It was from Rachel, asking if Trinity thought she might be back in the shop tomorrow. That was the hope. Liam wouldn’t be healthy enough to send to preschool, but she could bring him along with her to the floral shop. He always loved to make creations out of the leaves they pinched from the stems, and he was a pro at entertaining himself while she assembled bouquets. She responded to her coworker and clicked out of their text, only to have her eyes land on the one Spencer had send her much earlier in the day.
She didn’t want to leave him waiting. It was rude and that wasn’t her style. But she still didn’t know her answer.
Sorry I’m just now responding. Long day with a sick kiddo.
She wasn’t sure why her heart thrummed a few beats faster when she hit send, or why the bubbles that appeared only seconds later as Spencer composed his own text made her throat go dry like she’d swallowed a handful of sand.
When his reply popped up on the screen, she jumped.
“Get ahold of yourself, Trin,” she scolded, head shaking as she cleared her parched throat. “It’s just a text from a friend.”
Anything you need?he asked.
And then,How are you feeling?
She reread that second line a few times. Howwasshe feeling? More exhausted than usual, and emotionally drained in a way that most wouldn’t understand. Spencer probably didn’t want all of those unnecessary details. He was likely just being nice, and maybe even wondering how contagious the illness was. After all, he’d been exposed the night before when Trinity andher crew were over for the picnic. It would be a few days before he would be in the clear.
I’m hanging in there,she replied because it was true and yet not too divulging. And then she added,I haven’t talked to her yet, but I’m sure Mia would love to start lessons.
And then the part she was almost embarrassed to ask:How much is the cost?
Her phone sat silent for nearly five minutes, so long that she placed it back on the nightstand. Holding it in her hand, waiting for his reply, felt too anxious. Maybe his answer would put the possibility out of reach, anyway. There was a good chance that might happen.
When her phone finally did buzz, she’d already started to doze off, her head tilting awkwardly against her shoulder as though she were sleeping upright on an airplane. She rubbed her neck and reached for the phone.
Let’s say $30 an hour to start. Once she’s in the saddle, that will go up, but for groundwork, I think that’s a good going rate.
Thirty dollars? Trinity could handle that. And what she liked even more was that it sounded like it might be a bit of time before Mia even rode an actual horse. She wasn’t sure why she’d had visions of her daughter galloping free in a field, arms spread out on either side, head tilted toward the sun with eyes closed. Maybe it’s what she’d learned from the movies. Either way, taking things slow was music to her motherly ears.
That sounds like a good plan. When should I bring her by for her first lesson?
Trinity wouldn’t tell Mia about it until the day of; her daughter simply wouldn’t be able to focus on anything if she had even an inkling that lessons were in her future.
Are you free Saturday?Spencer replied.
Saturday was their busiest day at Joyful Blooms. Maybe Trinity’s dad could take Mia to the ranch, but there was a part of Trinity that wanted to be present for it. And there was also the pesky problem of the three-year-old. Liam would need somewhere to go during the lessons. Sure, he was good at keeping himself busy, but being busy on a ranch filled with barn animals was different than in a flower shop where she could corral him and keep him close. She laughed quietly at that thought, realizing the ranch was the only place that had actual corrals.
