Chapter 10 #2
Now I look at my daughter and the woman by my sink, and I feel something I have not felt in a long time.
Lighter. Like there is air where the grind used to sit.
The work is still there. It will always be there.
But today my kid gets a fresh-cut tree and a dad who is not just passing through the kitchen on his way to somewhere else.
Today I let Tate steer for a while, and I stay where the good noise is.
A knock rattles the front door.
Junie races across the living room before I can set the mug down. She flings it open with all the force her little body can manage. Finn stands there in a neon green hoodie so bright it makes my eyes hurt.
“What are you wearing?” I cringe and look away as if he’s blinding me.
“Uncle Finn!” she squeals. “You look like a tennis ball.”
Finn groans, glancing down at himself. “What? No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do,” Junie insists with a huge, knowing grin. “And you better watch out for dogs. They’ll chase you. Like Lola.”
Finn gapes at her as if she’s just betrayed him. “Who the heck is Lola?”
I lean against the counter, biting back a laugh at hearing my five-year-old give Finn crap, which is one of my favorite things to do.
“Actually,” Junie adds with perfect seriousness, “Nana says you are a golden retriever. So it makes sense why you’re dressed like that. You’ll attract your fellow golden retrievers. And Lola is my new best friend, silly. But really, I think she’s mine now.”
I don’t laugh. The grin dies in my mouth.
The coffee turns bitter on my tongue. Junie says she really feels like Lola is hers now and I feel the floor tilt.
I picture that glossy black Audi and a man who would keep a dog out of spite, and my kid standing in a doorway with empty hands. The thought hits like a cold nail.
I set the mug down. “Hey,” I say, aiming for gentle and landing closer to firm, “we are taking care of Lola. She belongs with Ivy.”
Junie’s smile falters, small and confused. Guilt flares, but the line has to be there. I cannot let her build a world that someone else can yank away. I glance at Ivy. She reads me fast, puts a hand on Junie’s shoulder, and nods like we are on the same page.
“Lola is my girl,” Ivy says softly, “and you are her favorite person. That is a real thing.”
Junie brightens a little. I take my mug again and stare into it like it has answers. I hate how quick I am to brace. I hate that I have to be. But I will not let my daughter fall in love with something that is not ours to keep. Not if I can help it.
“Also, will you guys stop calling me that?” Finn protests, glaring at me. “I’m not a dog.”
Our mom teases Finn that he’s got the golden retriever trope in him, whatever that means. She’s tried to explain it a few times. But it makes Finn irritated, so that’s all that matters. And this is just hilarious.
Ivy opens the back porch door for Lola, hair loose around her shoulders, eyes sparkling.
Lola runs to Junie, ready to see who is here.
Ivy takes one look at Finn and snorts. “That sweatshirt is brighter than the Christmas lights. Honestly, you and your brother are the walking definition of golden retriever energy. The only difference is that Remy growls if you pet him.”
I scoff, but I like it. I wouldn’t mind Ivy’s hands on me. And I bet I wouldn’t growl. I’d do something.
“Traitors. All of you.” Finn kicks the snow off his boots. Lola runs to him, tail wagging. He crouches to scratch behind her ears, muttering, “And just who are you, huh?”
Junie hops up and down. “My best friend, Lola. Like I said. We’re getting the tree today. Daddy promised. Are you helping?”
“That is why I am here,” Finn says. “Somebody has to make sure your dad doesn’t pick out the ugliest one in the lot.”
I roll my eyes. “Ivy gets to pick. We’re just here to haul it.”
Ivy leans her hip against the counter. “Hey, I had an idea and wanted to run by you, Remy.”
“Here we go,” Finn mutters, but he looks interested.
Ivy lifts her chin, undeterred. “What if we set up mini photo shoot sessions at the farm? A local photographer can do holiday portraits by the trees. Families, couples, even Christmas card shots. People would book time slots, and it would bring more business out here. I have a few people I could reach out to. A portion of the money can go to the tree farm.”
Junie gasps like Ivy just invented Christmas. “Can we do that? Please, Daddy?”
I glance at Finn. His brows are raised, but he is nodding slowly. “Actually, that is not a bad idea. The more people on the property, the more trees sold. Plus, it makes the place look good online.”
Ivy grins. “Exactly. Can I set it up?”
“Yeah,” I say, a little stunned at how easily she thought of it. “That’s a great idea.”
“Perfect,” she says, clapping her hands once. “I will have her start next Saturday.”
“Wait,” Finn says, straightening. “You already lined this up, didn’t you?”
She just smiles, all smug and sweet, and glances away guiltily.
I shake my head, but I am smiling, too. She is good for us. Good for this farm, I correct myself.
But I still can’t help thinking about how damn good she looked naked. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get that out of my mind.
By midmorning, we are bundled in coats and scarves as we trudge across the fields to where the trees stand tall in neat rows. The air smells of pine and frost. Junie runs ahead, Lola bounding beside her, both of them weaving between the trees as if they are on some grand adventure.
“This one!” Junie calls, pointing to a stout spruce. Two minutes later, she changes her mind. “No, this one!”
Finn throws me a look. “We are going to be here until next week.”
Ivy crouches next to Junie, brushing snow off a branch. “Take your time. The right tree will pick us.”
My daughter beams at her like she just solved the mystery of the universe. My chest tightens at the sight.
Finally, Junie finds it. A small pine, oddly shaped, with sturdy branches. It has to be one of the ugliest trees I’ve ever seen. She plants her mittened hands on her hips and says with all of her five-year-old authority. “This one. It is ours.”
Finn says, “I mean…technically, they are all yours.”
I crouch and test the trunk. “Good choice, kiddo.”
I smile because I always chose the Charlie Brown Christmas trees, too.
The ones nobody wanted. I always felt like they deserved the best Christmas.
My mom would always say, “Don’t you want the full, pretty one over there?
” But, no. I always wanted the scraggly ones, much to her and my Uncle Carl’s dismay.
Finn could have cared less. He was ready to go sled down the big hill behind the barn and get his energy out.
I always loved the tradition of picking out the very best Christmas tree.
Ivy nods and grins, knowing damn well this is one of the worst trees, and that it probably wouldn’t have been sold.
With Finn’s help, I saw it down and haul it back across the field. Ivy and Junie cheer like we just won a championship. We get it ready in the barn and, just as I suspected, it is in fact the ugliest tree on the tree farm.
Back at the farmhouse, we drag the tree inside. The living room fills with the sharp, fresh scent of pine. Finn sets up the stand while I steady the trunk. When it’s upright, Junie claps her hands, bouncing on her toes.
“It’s our first tree! Time to decorate!” she says excitedly.
I string the lights, watching them all in the warm glow. Ivy kneels with Junie, showing her how to hook the ribbon across the branches. Finn pretends to be annoyed but hums along with the Christmas music Ivy puts on.
Boxes of ornaments appear that Ivy looks like she had ready for this. Junie digs through them, pulling out glass balls and wooden stars. She hangs every ornament on the same two branches until Ivy gently shows her how to spread them out. Finn laughs as tinsel gets tangled in her hair.
It feels unreal, standing here with them, like I stepped into someone else’s memory. A family gathered around a tree. Laughter bouncing off the walls. Not silence. Not weight pressing me down.
I lean back and take it all in. Ivy’s cheeks are pink from the cold, her smile brighter than the lights we just hung. Junie’s laughter rings out, pure joy. Finn shakes his head, but he cannot hide the grin tugging at his mouth.
This is what life should be. Not working until my body aches.
Not dragging through days just trying to survive.
It is this. Making memories. Being present.
Enjoying my daughter. Laughing with my brother.
Watching Ivy weave herself into every corner of our lives until I cannot imagine the house without her.
She makes everything better and brighter. I don’t know what we did to deserve Ivy, but I’m grateful she’s here.
She looks over, and her eyes catch mine, and she nods in appreciation at the tree. I look away, as I can’t stop grinning.
And for the first time in a long time, I let myself believe I deserve this.