9. Griffin
Griffin
I ’m not sure how long Missy and I lay intertwined for on my bed. I only know it’s the best feeling in the world, having her head on my chest.
Her cheek is pressed to my bare skin, and her soft pants let me know she’s completely satisfied. My own body is buzzing, my blood electric in my veins. We definitely have a lot to look forward to over the next four decades.
The silence between us stretches. It’s not an uncomfortable or awkward silence. It’s the kind of silence that has our breaths syncing together, our hearts slowing after the frantic race to bliss.
We’re quiet for so long that I think she must have fallen asleep, but then she says, “Tell me something about yourself.”
“Like a secret?”
“Anything,” she answers.
I open my mouth to tell her something light and funny, but what comes out is a truth that she doesn’t know.
“My dad killed my mom when I was a kid. He was a raging alcoholic that couldn’t get his life together.
But she was the kind of person that loved everyone.
Even after she divorced my dad and struggled to pay the bills, she always had a dollar for someone in need.
She ran the bake sale and volunteered at the women’s shelter.
Every holiday, there were always new people around our table because she had this habit of finding the unwanted and making them welcome. ”
She doesn’t say anything, just presses a hand to my chest. She strokes her fingertips along my skin. The gesture soothes me, grounding me in the present.
I blink at the blurry ceiling. I can’t think about my mom for too long because then I think about all the things she’ll never get to see me do.
Like marry Missy and start our family. “That’s not the secret.
Almost everyone in town knows what happened with my parents.
At the time, we were living a few hours away, and the state eventually located my aunt and placed me with her in Courage. ”
I don’t tell her there’s a door in my mind.
It leads to a closet filled with my darkest memories.
The door rarely springs open anymore. But every so often it does try, and those are the hard days.
The ones that make me wonder who I’d be without this grief and pain I carry.
Would I still have gone into law enforcement?
“I can’t imagine how frightening that must have been,” she whispers, even though I think she has some idea. She was a foster kid too. She knows what it’s like to worry about where you’re going next.
Trauma teaches you to fear the future, that nothing good is coming tomorrow. It takes a lot of time and healing to realize that’s not true. Not every day will be a bad one. There’s still so much good to come.
“Everyone thinks I became a cop so I could catch men like my dad and put them in jail. But I did it because I needed to prove to myself that I’m not him.
I won’t hurt the people I care about. I can be one of the good guys.
” It’s the thing I’m most ashamed of, the heaviest secret I carry.
What if I’m like him? What if there’s nothing good in me, nothing worth loving?
“You’re not him,” she whispers.
“His blood flows through my veins.” A few years ago, I had my DNA tested.
I had been holding onto this crazy hope that we weren’t related.
If I could say that, then I’d be free. I could argue that he was a bad person, and bad people do bad things.
But if bad people have kids, what does that make those children? Does that mean I’m evil?
“And her heart beats here.” She taps my chest, the spot right above my heart.
“You’re only studying one side of the equation.
If his blood is in your veins, so is hers.
If he gave you half his DNA, so did she.
You have two paths to walk here. You can focus on how evil your father was, or how much your mother loved you.
I know, as a mom, which one I’d want for my child. ”
I’m quiet, absorbing her words. I’d never considered that.
I’ve spent my life so focused on my dad and all the pain he caused.
Maybe the path to healing isn’t to keep looking for signs of evil in myself.
Maybe it’s to live the way my mom did—with love and grace, believing that even the smallest acts of kindness make a difference.
“Thank you,” I whisper around the lump in my throat.
I don’t know if she’ll ever fully grasp the gift she gave me, the weight that rolled off my shoulders.
But I feel like I can finally move forward with my life.
A life that’s going to include marrying Missy and adopting her beautiful daughter.
They’re both mine, and I can’t wait for the day I can tell the world.
Missy
When it’s time to leave Griffin’s cabin, he helps me with my clothes, and I button his shirt. It’s a different shirt since he lost the buttons on the one he was wearing earlier.
It’s the little moments like this that make me sure we’re meant to be together. It’s not the passion between the sheets or the protective instincts he has with Daisy. It’s the way he cares for me and lets me care for him in return.
I didn’t know about his past or the heaviness that fills him. I’m even more in awe of this man’s strength and the way he’s carried on. He was a scared little boy who had to face overwhelming evil. He did it without letting it consume him. His mom would be proud.
I wish I could meet her. I know that when I get to heaven, the first thing I’ll do is throw my arms around her and give her a big hug. I’ll thank her for raising the man that would become my guardian angel.
We walk hand-in-hand to Dorothy’s house. When we come into the living room, she’s snoring lightly in the recliner, her mouth agape. Russell is rocking Daisy as a detective show plays in the background. She’s fighting sleep, her eyelids fluttering closed only to open again seconds later.
I reach for her, delighting in the sleepy smile she gives me. The moment her weight is in my arms, and her tiny body is snuggled against my chest, contentment sweeps through me. Everything is right in my world when my baby is in my arms.
“Thank you,” I mouth to Russell as I walk back to the guest bedroom.
Griffin stops to talk with him for a moment before he joins us. He gives Daisy a kiss goodnight before I settle her in her crib. We both stand over her, staring down at the most perfect girl in the world. I can’t believe I got so lucky that I was picked to be her mom.
“Tomorrow, I want to take her out, both of you, and show you around the farm.”
“That sounds perfect,” I tell him as I stifle a yawn. It’s been a long day, and I’m glad I don’t have work tomorrow. Instead, I’ll get to spend the day with the two people I care most about in the world.
I wake late in the morning to find that Griffin’s side of the bed is already cold. He slept in here again last night. His aunt has to have noticed what’s going on, but she hasn’t said a word.
Daisy is gone from her crib, and I can hear the sound of cooking coming from the direction of the kitchen.
I take a hot shower and throw on some old blue jeans along with a light blue T-shirt that makes my eyes pop.
I pull my hair back into a high ponytail and add gloss to my lips before I head downstairs.
In the kitchen, Griffin is gliding across the floor with Daisy in his arms. He’s humming along to the radio, and she’s laughing.
My baby is happy in his arms, and something about the sight turns me into goo.
She’s going to grow up so differently than either of us did.
She’s going to be loved and cherished and protected.
She’s going to know what it is to have a stable home with two people that love her.
Dorothy is at the stove, scrambling eggs. She already smells like horse and hard work. She’s been up for hours. When I got up to use the bathroom at four in the morning, she was leaving the house. Like most farmers, she has an incredible work ethic.
She makes a big breakfast, and we eat together at her table family-style. It’s nice to have people to share a meal with, and I love that Dorothy got a highchair for Daisy. It’s been on my list to get since she started sitting upright without any assistance.
When we’re done, Dorothy goes to continue her farm chores. Griffin cleans the kitchen while I wrangle Daisy into clean clothes. She got the baby cereal she’s been trying everywhere. She doesn’t seem to care too much about the taste. She loves making a mess with it.
It takes a bath to get all of the tiny flakes out of her hair and when I’m done, I dress her in her cutest outfit. It’s little suspenders with blue birds on them. I add a floppy sun hat and smear some baby-safe sunscreen on the tip of her tiny nose. “Do you want to see some farm animals today?”
She gurgles, which I take as a yes, and we return to a spotless kitchen.
Griffin’s gaze rakes over my figure. My T-shirt is wet, splashed from the bath. But we’re about to go out into the hot August sun so I don’t mind. Guessing by the way he’s staring, he does mind. “Honey, you need to change.”
“It’ll dry,” I quickly reassure him. “Besides, I can’t change every time Daisy splashes me or makes a mess.”
He stalks across the kitchen floor and grabs my hips, giving them a firm squeeze. “The ranch hands are going to see you. I don’t want to blind every man who lays eyes on you, but I’m not afraid to do it. These luscious curves are just for me. Got it?”
I love the possessive glint in his gaze, the way he looks furious at the idea of another man seeing me. “I’m yours. I’m not interested in anyone else. There’s only you.”
His jaw is still tight, and his hold is still ironclad. “That’s good to know, but it ain’t you I’m thinking about. A man would have to be crazy not to want you.”
“And stupid if he made a pass at me,” I point out.
“More like dead. Now get out of this wet T-shirt, so we can leave,” he says.
I chuckle and do as he said. I don’t want to delay us leaving the farm, and if I’m honest, I’m delighted by how possessive he is. I love that he’s obsessed with keeping me safe and is convinced that every guy wants me.
I return less than a minute later in a new shirt. “All dry now.”
He grunts, and I’m pretty sure he mutters something about making all of the ranch hands wear blindfolds now. He’s joking, I think.
He starts our tour with the chickens and shows me how to put out feed. I watch the way they peck the ground so eagerly.
“These are free-range chickens,” he explains. “They have plenty of room to move about. They’re not kept caged their whole lives. It’s always been important to Aunt Dorothy that we treat the animals with respect. It’s something she instilled in me from a young age.”
“I can’t imagine the work she puts in to keep this place running.” It’s early mornings and late nights and constant chores. Yet her love of the land and the animals keeps her going.
“She is a force to be reckoned with,” he agrees. After the chickens, he takes us to the pasture and points out the different cows to Daisy.
He talks to her as if she can understand every single word. She blows spit bubbles and grins at him, proud of her newfound talent. She looks extra small in his big, burly arms.
He shows us the fields where the crops are planted and the workshop where the heavy machinery is stored.
“You won’t be here too often,” he explains to Daisy. “At least, not until you’re big enough to help me repair the tractors.”
I can’t help smiling at that, thinking about how lucky Daisy is going to be to grow up around this beautiful farm. She’ll get to learn how to milk cows, feed chickens, and fix tractors with Griffin.
The next stop on our tour of the farm is the barn. He introduces us to Belle, an old mare that’s gentle. He takes Daisy’s hand and helps her stroke the horse’s soft coat. It feels like velvet, and I love the way she neighs.
When Daisy goes to grab a handful of her mane, Griffin is quick to intercept her. She giggles, tugging on his bushy beard instead.
After our tour, we settle in the long grass outside for a picnic lunch of cold-cut sandwiches and chips. The generous tomato slices and crunchy lettuce are both fresh from Dorothy’s garden. It’s the best sandwich I’ve ever had, and I wash it down with another glass of sweet tea.
Nearby, the ducks quack as they splash in the pond, and I watch their antics, amused. “Don’t worry,” Griffin says. “I’ll teach her how to swim.”
“I may need a few lessons of my own,” I tell him, as I watch Daisy push up onto her hands and knees.
She’s been doing this lately. She pushes up then rocks side to side.
But this time, instead of rocking side to side, she pulls herself forward.
She only manages an inch or two before she collapses back onto the blanket.
I meet Griffin’s gaze, my heart in my throat.
“Our daughter is crawling,” he says, awe and wonder filling his voice. This is the precious moment when I realize that we’re a family now.