Chapter 37
Acceptance didn’t come all at once. I didn’t wake up one morning and think, today’s the day I can say goodbye to Violet. I certainly didn’t wake up and think, it doesn’t hurt as bad.
It hurt every time I looked at her house down the road.
It hurt when one of her favorite songs came on the radio.
It hurt on Junie’s first day of third grade when once again I forgot I couldn’t just send her a picture.
But by the end of September, when the leaves were changing on the aspens and the entire valley was painted gold, I knew it was time to let her go.
We stood in the field that stretched between Violet’s house and ours, where the wildflowers had lasted the longest. Little bursts of purple and pink and white swayed in the tall late-summer grass, giving one last stubborn show before winter took them under.
“Are you sure about this?” Ty asked, voice low and careful. He stood just behind us, giving me space, but always there when I needed him.
Junie stood at my side, Violet’s urn in her hands. I ran a hand through her blonde hair, soothing both of us with the little motion.
“What do you think?” I asked, my words meant just for her.
Junie nodded, then looked up at me. “Mom always loved the fall here.”
The wind kicked up, lifting the grass in waves, carrying the scent of pine and cold air and the faint musk of dying wildflowers.
I gazed out at the picturesque mountains around me, white coating the tips with the promise of winter coming soon.
Everything was green and gold and beautiful, even as dead leaves fluttered to the ground.
Fall was an ending, but not the harsh, dramatic kind. It was softer, holding hope for tomorrow, and clearing the world for life to begin again.
Not today.
Not tomorrow.
But someday.
Together, Junie and I twisted the lid, my breath catching when it loosened. Ty stepped closer, placing a hand between my shoulder blades, just enough to remind me I wasn’t doing this alone.
Junie looked up at me. “Now?”
“Yeah,” I said, guiding her small hands. “I think so.”
Together, we tilted the urn.
The ashes lifted on a gust of wind, soft and pale and weightless, drifting out over the field, caught in the breeze. They blew toward Violet’s house, over the wildflowers, and up into the mountains she loved.
Junie pressed into my side, a tremor running through her. “Did it work?”
I wrapped my arms around her shoulders. “Yeah, cutie. It worked.”
Ty pulled us both into his chest to ward off the chill. “She’s everywhere she loved,” he said. “Right where she wanted to be.”
The three of us stayed like that—a small circle against the wide, golden valley—until the last of the ashes sparkling in the sunlight disappeared in the wind.
Junie wiped her cheek with the back of her hand. “Do you think she’s happy?”
My throat tightened. “Are you kidding me?” I whispered, stroking my fingers through her hair. “This was where she wanted to be, with you forever.”
Ty squeezed my hand. “All of us together.”
Junie nodded, then smiled up at us. “Family.”
None of us moved, still huddled together in the field, until the sun sat just above the mountains and the temperature dropped fast. The chickens clucked from the driveway, and Junie took that as her cue.
“I’ll go get them inside,” she said, walking toward the hens waiting for her.
Ty brushed a stray blonde curl from my face and tucked it behind my ear. He leaned forward and kissed me softly, then pulled back. “Okay?”
“Yeah,” I answered, giving him a soft nod. “I think I’m—”
The sound of a phone vibrating cut through my words, and Ty frowned. He pulled it from his pocket, staring at the screen where Sandra Diaz—CPS scrolled across the top.
“Hello?” he answered on speakerphone, staring right at me.
My breaths came in quick gasps, but before my mind had time to conjure up a million scenarios of why she might call, Sandra spoke.
“Oh, I’m so glad you answered,” Sandra said, her voice more than a little frazzled.
In the background, I heard a baby cry, and Ty and I stared at each other.
“I know you have a lot going on with the hockey season starting back up and Juniper back in school this fall, but I just had an emergency placement dropped in my lap, and I have nowhere for him to go.”
“A placement,” Ty said, staring down at the phone. “Foster care.”
“Yes,” Sandra said, then let out a deep sigh. “It’s a complicated story, and I can tell you more if you say yes. I don’t think it will be a permanent placement, but I have a one-year-old little boy in need of a safe home tonight.”
I looked up at Ty, feeling a whole new wave of emotions. We’d talked a lot about his decision to foster Junie in the last few weeks, and how important that had been to him. After everything he’d done for our little girl, I couldn’t help but see how much it meant to him.
On the off chance something like this would happen, I’d completed the required foster training and paperwork, not wanting my presence in his life to be the reason he couldn’t help more children.
“Ty, are you still there?” Sandra asked, and Ty looked away from the phone, right at me.
“Yeah,” he said, eyes searching my face. “Sorry, I’m just surprised you’d pick me.”
“Please,” Sandra said, and I reached forward to grab Ty’s hand, holding it in mine. “With the way you took care of that sweet girl of yours? Any child would be lucky to be loved by you, whether it’s just for tonight or for a lifetime.”
“Daisy?” Ty asked. “What do you think?”
I grinned up at him. “I think I agree with Sandra.”
“Should I ask Junie?”
“Ask me what?” Junie said as she came back toward us, Piggie and Rowdy trotting at her side.
Ty squatted down in front of Junie, taking her hands in his, leaving his phone on the gravel at his feet. “Sandra has a baby boy who needs somewhere safe to sleep tonight. She wants to know what we’d think about having him here?”
“Like a brother?”
“I can’t promise that,” Ty said gently.
“But we can show him what it means to be part of a family, can’t we?” I said, laying a hand on Ty’s shoulder. “For however long he needs us.”
Junie nodded, then reached down to pick up the phone Piggie was busy pushing around with her snout. “Does he like pigs?”
Sandra chuckled, and I grinned at my most favorite little girl in the universe. “I’m not sure if he’s ever met one.”
“Okay,” Junie said, then handed the phone back. “I’ll tell Piggie to be extra nice.”
“Is that a yes?” Sandra asked, and I squeezed Ty’s shoulder, giving him my approval.
“Yes,” Ty said, reaching up to take my hand in his. “Yes, it is.”
Sandra exhaled a shaky breath of relief. “Thank you. We’ll be there in an hour.”
Ty ended the call, still crouched in front of Junie, still holding her little hands. For a long moment, none of us moved. The wind whispered through the tall grass, brushing past us like Violet herself was slipping between our shoulders, nudging us toward whatever came next.
Junie pushed her glasses up and looked between us. “We should get ready, right? Babies need bottles and blankets and those squishy fruit pouches, and a crib. Maybe Stevie has one.”
Ty smiled, small and a little undone. “Yeah, bug. We should get ready.”
She took off toward the house with Piggie snorting behind her, shouting, “I’ll clean my room! And make a sign! And find some toys he won’t choke on!”
Her voice faded as she ran, swallowed up by the golden field and the fading sun. Ty rose slowly, brushing off his jeans, and turned toward me.
He wasn’t grieving the way Junie and I were—not with the same sharpness, not with the hollow ache that had shaped our entire summer. But he’d carried us through it. Loved us through it. And the tenderness in his eyes held the weight of all of it.
“Are you sure?” he asked, searching my face. “This is a big change.”
I stepped into him, sliding my hand into his, the wildflowers brushing against our legs as the wind swept through the valley again.
“Of course I’m sure,” I said. “The hardest part of losing someone is realizing life keeps going anyway. But maybe that’s the point—we keep going too.”
His breath hitched, as if he took that right into his bloodstream.
Behind us, the last of Violet’s ashes drifted along the field, settling into the earth. I looked up into Ty’s hazel eyes and felt the truth of it settle deep inside me.
We weren’t replacing Violet.
We weren’t erasing the loss.
We were growing around it, making a life that honored her.
Ty squeezed my hand. “Okay,” he whispered, more to himself than to me. “Okay.”
We stood there for another moment—just long enough to watch the sky shift from gold to rose to violet—and then he nodded toward the house.
“Come on,” he said, a soft smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “We’ve got a room to set up.”
I leaned into his side as we walked, our steps matching without effort.
Behind us, the wildflowers bent in the wind. Ahead of us, the porch light flickered on.
Together, Ty and I walked toward the house, toward our little girl, toward the tiny boy who needed a place to land.
Toward a future that was ours to build.