19. Ellie
Chapter nineteen
Ellie
Ifeel like I’m in The Wizard of Oz. Like I’m Dorothy, and my world was black, white, and gray. Then suddenly I stepped outside and everything was bright and beautiful. The same basic parts, but completely different.
Life with Hunter has me stepping into Technicolor.
I’m sitting at the old table in the dining room with my sewing machine, preparing to make clothes—to work on my business—for the first time in ages.
It feels good. I hate that I avoided it for so long.
I pulled out all the clothes I’d finished before, laid them on the table, and admired them for several minutes before sitting down.
Now I’m full of inspiration. There’s a ruffly dress in a bold floral pattern that I’d love to remake in pastels.
And there’s a boy’s button-down in jean material that is begging to be replicated with the pineapple fabric I bought entirely too much of.
Or did I?
Maybe a pineapple dress? Pineapple shorts? Pineapple bucket hat? Why not!
Oh! And Christmas clothes!
Most importantly … Sweetpea needs some outfits.
I’m so excited, it feels like fireworks going off inside of me. Like a happy, new beginning.
Mom’s still in town. Dad had to go back to Gainesville to work, but she stayed for the week and a half after Thanksgiving to visit me and see about some things with her store.
Since Hunter and I are “newlyweds,” she hasn’t visited as much as she’d planned.
I tried insisting it was fine, to no avail.
They even offered to send us on a proper honeymoon, but I quickly told her we were planning to save that for after the baby.
I feel all slimy lying to my mom, but I convince myself that maybe Hunter and I will take a trip together when Sweetpea is old enough. As friends.
We will have earned it, after all of this.
Today, my mom and I spent the late morning in Cypress City shopping for baby things. She bought us the sweetest vintage-style crib and pink and sage muslin blankets. They are so snuggly; I’m on a mission to find myself one.
“Can we stop by my house a minute? I want to show you something.” We’re in Mom’s rental car, nearly back to Starlight Valley.
“Sure, but only because I love the things you bought us today. I’m feeling gracious,” I joke.
Ten minutes later, we’re pulling into Mom and Dad’s driveway. I haven’t been back since Hunter came and we narrowly missed Dylan. I have a pang of sadness that things turned out the way they did with him, and that Sweetpea has him for a father.
I’ll never forget the morning I found out I was pregnant.
I made sure Cleo was in the house because I knew Dylan wouldn’t be happy.
And I was right. She came in, but only after I’d been deposited on the floor.
Thankfully, he left, reminding me of a tornado ripping through a house.
Cleo stayed as long as she could, and after I’d spent hours on my bedroom floor, crying and praying.
Finally, I stood and wiped my swollen eyes.
I had peace because I knew what I needed to do.
I knew I was no longer bound by the promises I’d made to Dylan, and that, in the end, this was going to be worked out for my good.
And that Sweetpea was a blessing, not another thing to stress and worry about.
You’d think that, with the way he treated me in the last years of our marriage, leaving him would have been the easiest thing—but it wasn’t.
I should have left long before he came home that day in a drunk rage and announced we were divorcing.
I’d made my decision, but him saying it too made the process all the easier.
I can’t change any of that now. And I wouldn’t have Sweetpea if I had. At least she won’t have to have him for a dad.
I put my hand on my belly and smile down at my sweet girl.
We step into the house and I’m met with the faces of so many of the women in my life that I love.
Cleo, Mrs. Dawson (who now insists I call her Rachel), DeeDee, Rosie, Georgia, Raquel, Bethany, Sadie, a handful of women from church, and even Mrs. Truman from the general store.
I’ll have to thank whoever thought to invite her.
“Mom! This is amazing!” Tears fill my eyes.
She puts her arm around my shoulders. “Rachel and Cleo were in on it too.”
“And I made the cupcakes,” Rosie calls from her perch on the arm of the sofa. “They’re chocolate with chocolate buttercream and a strawberry glaze, topped with a chocolate-covered strawberry.”
“That sounds amazing,” I say.
“You can thank me later. I stopped her from adding balsamic vinegar,” Rachel says as she smiles at her daughter.
“I’ll have you know, balsamic goes well with strawberries,” Rosie says.
“Maybe so, but we’re not going to risk it with our pregnant Ellie,” Rachel replies. My heart squeezes at the affectionate way Rachel says our pregnant Ellie. I’ve always felt a part of the Dawson clan, but there’s no doubt my sense of belonging is bigger now.
“Wait. Where are everyone’s cars?” I ask.
“Mr. Dawson shuttled everyone from Wyatt’s. We wanted to surprise you,” Cleo says.
“Mission accomplished.” I’ll have to remember to thank Mr. Dawson when I see him next. “Thank you everyone, this is amazing.”
There are so many delicious snacks to choose from, so I pile my plate high and absolutely demolish it.
Then it’s time to open gifts. So many sweet little outfits, blankets, diapers, and wipes.
The Dawsons got us a car seat with two bases, one for my car and one for Hunter’s truck, and a nice stroller.
Best of all, DeeDee made a white and pale pink quilt.
She’d clearly been working on it for months. Long before I married her grandson.
I start to cry at how precious this gift and its giver are. And from guilt and sadness, because Hunter and I are deceiving her.
After the shower, I feel an almost overpowering drive to get ready for Sweetpea’s arrival.
I unpack our gifts, wash all the new clothes and blankets, and set up the crib.
Maybe it’s nesting—or maybe it’s just my attempt at shoving down my angst at my deception of our friends and family about Hunter and me. I don’t know.
Now I’m in the kitchen making chili for us to eat tomorrow, my audiobook playing from my phone, when Hunter gets home. He spent the day with his brothers and their cousin Beckett, and Cleo’s husband, Ansel, rock climbing.
I’ve just gotten to a very emotional part of my book. I try to blink the tears from my eyes, but he sees them anyway.
“What’s going on?” He steps up beside me.
I sniff back my tears, clearing my throat. “I was listening to my book. The main character was just reunited with her husband who she’d thought was lost to the war.”
“Was I gone for too long, wifey?”
I smile and give a small laugh. “You got here just in time.”
Hunter smiles back at me and this all just feels so … domestic. “Is this like a World War II book, or something?” he asks.
“It’s a romantasy. But the feelings are the same.”
“Ah, okay. Makes sense, I guess.” He leans over the pot. “This smells good. You know I love chili beans.”
“Who could forget?” When Hunter was a freshman in high school, I was at their house and when his mom announced that we were having chili beans for dinner, the always chill and calm Hunter had jumped up and yelled in celebration.
“I thought we’d have it tomorrow. You guys ate on your way home, right? ”
“We did. Thanks for making this. I’ll look forward to it.” He puts an arm around my shoulder and squeezes. I’m so glad he’s home. I feel settled now. Not that I was feeling necessarily unsettled before, but there’s been a shift to comfort since he walked through the door.
“You’re welcome. And did you notice I’ve already cleaned up the mess?”
Hunter releases me, and turns and leans against the counter, grinning. “I did. But I would have been glad to clean up after you. Though, it’s probably a good thing, I was thinking I’d put the crib together tonight. When you called, it sounded like you were excited to see it in her room.”
He’s so sweet. He’s got to be tired from hiking and climbing all day. “I actually put it together when I got home. After the shower, I’d fully expected to come home and rest, but I’ve been oddly full of energy. You wanna see?”
“I do.” He straightens, and I follow him toward our rooms. “You really did it by yourself?”
“Have you seen all the clothes I’ve made? I’m pretty good at putting things together.”
“I didn’t doubt your abilities, only the fact that you don’t have three hands. It seems like putting together a crib would be easier with someone to help you. But obviously I was wrong, at least in your case.”
There’s a little extra pep in my step as we walk into Sweetpea’s blush pink and sage nursery. I like impressing Hunter. He’s always so impressive, it’s nice to have a turn.
I sigh as I take in the newly put together space. It’s so peaceful here. I can’t wait to rock her in the glider and sing slightly off-key songs to her. I wonder how old she’ll be when she realizes her mother can’t sing.
“It looks great,” Hunter says. He runs his hand along DeeDee’s quilt that I’d draped over the side of the crib, then gives the crib a shake. “Seems sturdy.”
“Doubting me again?” I tease.
“No. I would have done that if I had built it. There’s no such thing as too safe when it comes to Sweetpea.”
My heart swells with emotion. “You called her Sweetpea.”
“Either you’re rubbing off on me, or I’m getting tired of just calling her the baby. Do you have any ideas for her name?”
“I have a few. But I’d really like your input if you’ll help me; maybe narrow them down.”
“I’d be honored to help.” He glances at my baby bump, then back to me. “Though, I want to go ahead and tell you … I’m sure one of the options is Hunter, but I think it would be too confusing.”
“Hunter!” I whack his arm lightly. “Let’s talk in the living room, I’m ready to sit down.”
Suddenly, I’m lifted off my feet and heading out of the room, Hunter’s strong arms holding me up.