Chapter 35
thirty-five
Rosalie
Iwake up to an alarm blaring and the bed shifting behind me.
My eyes feel puffy when I attempt to open them, and my mouth feels like I’ve swallowed a bag of cotton balls.
I’m a bit disoriented since the last memory I have was being at work, but I also vaguely remember Cam being there.
Even though my nose is still a little stuffy, I can smell the warm combination of amber and sandalwood behind me, and I know it’s him moving to shut off the alarm.
Rolling back over, he slips his arm around my waist and pulls himself over the top of me to kiss my cheek.
“Hey, baby, how are you?”
I feel wrung out and embarrassed, and it makes me want to curl up and bury my face in my pillow, but instead I turn to my back and look into Cam’s concerned eyes.
“I feel drained and foggy. How did I get home?”
I catch sight of the time on his watch fastened to the arm still draped over my middle. I grab his forearm and sit up so fast I almost headbutt Cam.
“Holy shit! It’s two in the afternoon! Why aren’t you at work? I’m supposed to be at work!”
“Hey, hey. Elodie called me and said you had a tough morning. She asked me to come by and make sure everything was okay.” He says this hesitantly, like he’s waiting for me to catch up or something. His eyes search mine as bits and pieces of this morning start to replay in my mind.
Mr. Brooks bringing in his broodmare, Folly.
Her swollen back legs as he slowly backed her off the trailer.
The way her abdomen looked so swollen and distended, and not in the way a normal pregnant mare usually looks.
I remember calling Dr. Walsh, our surgeon, to consult because I knew something was very wrong. After a quick physical exam and an ultrasound, we determined Folly had a prepubic tendon rupture.
She was almost full-term, so we decided a C-section would give the best prognosis for both mare and foal.
The risks were high, but we didn’t have many other options.
I was in the OR as Dr. Walsh pulled the foal from Folly, and I saw the horrific damage done to Folly’s internal organs due to the rupture.
It was too much, and we couldn’t save her.
I assisted Dr. Walsh on autopilot as we took care of the foal, and Elodie came in to euthanize Folly. It was the most humane thing we could do, yet I only saw one thing.
Last I remember, I was tearing off my surgical gown and bursting through the OR doors, running for the nearest bathroom, throwing myself inside, and locking the door before collapsing to my knees.
My head was so dizzy, my vision tunneled. I felt my heart racing so fast I thought it might burst out of my chest. Then, I broke into uncontrollable tears.
“I had a panic attack, I think.”
Cameron waits for me to gather my thoughts and continue.
“I knew as soon as Mr. Brooks backed his horse off the trailer it wasn’t good. I began mentally preparing myself for the worst-case scenario. I even knew when Dr. Walsh confirmed the condition of the mare it was likely both wouldn’t survive.”
My voice breaks, and Cameron pulls me closer, kissing my temple.
“I just wasn’t prepared for the feelings of loss to come at me so quickly when I realized we couldn’t save the mare. The mom.”
I sniffle, and tears form in the corners of my eyes as I continue.
“I feel fucking stupid. It’s not the same.
I know most people would think ‘it’s just a horse,’ but I’m not wired like that.
It’s why I became a vet. I think of animals as family members, and that foal will never be cared for by her mom; it just triggered something inside me.
And now my colleagues probably think I’m weak and can’t handle my damn job. Ugh, it’s humiliating.”
At this realization, I do turn and hide my face in my pillow, but Cameron turns me back to him and places a palm on each side of my face, tilting my head until I can no longer avoid looking in his eyes. What I see is deep earnestness and understanding, a compassion I didn’t know I needed.
He holds my gaze intently for no more than a second before he speaks.
“Rosalie, you’re not stupid. Grief can come at the most obscure times in life.
It’s an individual journey. Your feelings and experience should not be diminished because others wouldn’t find the same level of loss as you did in a certain situation.
You’re allowed your moments, free of judgment from others and from yourself. ”
I breathe out shakily, trying to absorb his words and allowing myself to relax.
“Thank you.” The words are quiet and feel so insufficient, but Cameron reacts as if they’re more than enough.
“You’re welcome,” he says, his voice bleeding sincerity, before he drops his lips to mine in a kiss so tender, it feels like more. He pulls me to his chest and holds me for a few more minutes before reluctantly untwining us.
He strokes my cheek with his thumb. “I don’t want to leave you, but I need to go grab my things from the office before I pick up the girls and get dinner. I’ll be back soon.”
“I can go with you,” I say, already unwrapping myself from the covers.
“No, you stay here and rest. It was a hard day, allow yourself this time and let me take care of you.”
The thought of how lucky I am to have found a man who understands me in a way I never anticipated needing flits through my mind.
It’s quickly followed by a bit of shame because it comes at the expense of Cameron losing someone as well.
Regardless, I feel so fortunate fate put us together the day I pulled into town, not knowing a single soul.
He’s come to mean so much to me, and I can’t really imagine my life here in Winhaven without him.
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, baby, I’m sure.”
As he leans down to kiss me, I curl my hands around the back of his neck and pull him closer, forcing him to place an arm on each side of me to keep himself from falling on top of me as I deepen the kiss.
I pour all my gratitude and more into this kiss, hoping he feels how much he means to me through the connection of our lips.
When I pull back, the look in his eyes tells me he knows. He knows I’m falling for him, and if the adoration I see reflected on his face is anything to go by, I think he’s falling for me, too.
I almost let the words pass through my lips, but I worry he’ll think this emotionally damaging day was the catalyst. I need him to know his actions today only solidified what I already knew in my heart. I’m falling in love with Cameron Brown.
He leaves the house, and I pad out to the kitchen to grab a drink of water. I feel a weird mix of restlessness and exhaustion and am unsure I can actually fall back asleep, even if I wanted to.
As I swallow down the rest of my water, my eyes land on my mom’s journal. I move toward it as if an invisible cord is pulling me across the room. With shaking hands, I reach for it and curl up on my favorite corner of the couch, pulling a soft blanket over my legs in the process.
Slowly, I open the journal. I need my mom right now. I need to see her words and hear her voice. I need to replace this intense feeling of sadness and loss with the essence of her that still lives within these pages.
Dear Mom,
Did you not feel it necessary to enlighten me on what a joy it is to potty train a toddler?
There are five million different methods out there and I’m just trying to survive one of them!
Use a schedule they said! Play pretend with a doll they said!
Let them run around naked they said! No! No, mom, No!
At this, I do something I never thought possible today. I laugh. Hard. I laugh until tears are streaming down my face for an entirely different reason.
My mom never brought this up when I was potty training Paige, likely because she was so easy to potty train. I, on the other hand, sound like a nightmare.
With a smile on my face, I wipe my cheeks with the edge of my blanket and continue reading.
Today, that last method got me in a whole shitload of trouble.
Yeah, I used that word intentionally and I’m not going to apologize for cursing because there’s no other phrase to describe what happened to me.
Honestly, I thought I was Supermom because Rosalie had pottied in the toilet three times in a row but the fourth time, she didn’t make it.
Instead, I heard, “Mommy, I go poop! I go poop!” Running, I found her waddling down the hall IN ACTION, if you know what I mean.
I love her and all, but it was disgusting.
This parenting thing is not for the faint of heart and I was NOT prepared.
Love,
Lily
Oh my gosh! How freaking embarrassing! I cover my face and shake my head before moving on to see what my grandma said in response.
My Dearest Lily,
I’m sorry, honey. I simply could not prepare you for every moment of parenthood.
If it helps, you’re great-grandma likes to embarrass your grandpa by telling the story of how he went out in the front yard where all the neighborhood could see him.
At least your sweet Rosie kept it in the house.
Life as a mom is full of unexpected surprises, but you’re doing great. Remember, I believe in you!
Love,
Mom
I smile at their exchange, loving how utterly unhinged my mom sounds in this letter. I didn’t get to see that side of her often because she always seemed so put together, but it’s nice to know she had her moments of panic too.
I close up the book of letters and hold it to my chest.
The unforeseen lightness I feel after reading it has me burrowing down onto the couch and closing my eyes.
As I begin to drift off, I conjure the image of my mom chasing a younger me through the halls of our home.
I can clearly see her smile and hear her raucous laughter, and just before I doze off, I meet her smile with one of my own.