Chapter 34 Lainey
Lainey
Alight breeze makes me cold despite the warm day, but I am not ready to go inside yet.
I’m standing in the backyard of Remington’s parents’ house looking at all the roses.
Renee’s legacy flowers. The sun is setting, dipping the delicate petals in a soft orange glow making it seem like they are embers, burning in the final warmth of the day.
Remington was right: These roses are not basic; they are a masterpiece.
I should expect nothing less from a master gardener.
The woman herself steps up next to me, laying a soft, light throw blanket around my shoulders along with her warm arm.
She places her head next to mine and we stand there in comfortable silence.
Never did I think I could have this kind of relationship with someone, but Renee has made it easy to be here and open up to her.
“Saw you shivering out here in your sundress and thought this might help.” Renee smiles at me.
“Thanks. I am not sure why I am cold today, but this is perfect. You have such a green thumb,” I tell her. “I could spend the whole day out here just staring at all the beauty and never get tired of it. It’s like a sanctuary.”
“When we started our business it was so busy and all about our clients, the books, and eventually our babies. I needed something for myself, a space that could calm my mind, a space where I felt like I could take a deep breath after a long day or a hard moment in parenting.” She leads me over to the cushioned swing that runs along one of the garden paths and we sit together.
“I don’t have a physical place like that, but I guess it’s kind of what my journals are for me.
Sometimes I write my thoughts and other times I will put down things that inspire me.
But this whole garden is full of inspiration I would never be able to capture.
” I laugh. “I guess I would just have to snap a photo and tape it to a page, but I know that still wouldn’t do it justice. ”
“Thank you, honey.” She pats my hand and takes a deep lungful of air. Her body sags with the weight of sadness from the past couple of months, blonde hair glowing warmly in the setting sunlight.
“How can I help you?” I ask her.
“Help me?”
“Yes, you, Renee. You have been going nonstop these past weeks. The strength you have for Sutton and the love you pour into your family, I—it’s just hard for me to find the words to describe what that looks like from an outsider looking in,” I say with a sincerity I hope she can feel.
“Loving my family is my purpose, even on the hardest days and through the darkest seasons. And, Lainey, now that includes you, too. You are not an outsider. I don’t want you to feel that way here, and if you truly still do then I have not been doing my job very well.
” Her brown eyes, twins to Sutton’s, look at me the way I always wished my own mother’s had, with a profound love that comes from a place deep in her soul.
Born of goodness, strength, and appreciation for just being here in this moment.
My emotions cannot handle it, it’s too much and it feels like my damaged heart has just been split right in half with her words.
But instead of being shattered and irreparable, it is like I have been gently scooped up.
All the broken parts of myself have been poured into a new vessel through connecting with myself, setting boundaries, loving Remington, and allowing myself to accept his love in return.
What Renee just did was toss it into a blazing hot kiln.
All those sharp, broken pieces I was so worried would cut other people if they got too close to me melt away and are shaped into something new, something that fits where and who I am now.
Nobody here has once asked me to change or wanted anything performative from me.
For the first time in my life they have allowed me space to just be Lainey Quinn and have loved me as I am.
And in doing that, I not only feel like I fit here, but within myself as well.
Renee hugs me in her comforting embrace and hushes me. “It’s okay, my sweet girl, let it go. Let it out. From the little bit you have shared and what Rem has told me there have not been very many people in your corner. That’s just not how it is anymore.”
Sitting back and blotting my eyes with a corner of the blanket I admit, “I told him this, but I really don’t think I knew what it meant to be loved before Remington. And to have you accept me into your family, it really is overwhelming. I know that when you say it you actually mean it.”
“Of course I do!”
“Well, in my family action and words never match up. I learned from a very young age that I was a problem for them, even if I did everything perfectly. Nothing was ever good enough. I thought moving to Fox Grove would make things with my mom better, easier.” I look away.
“I was never good enough,” I whisper, not sure if Renee could hear my confession, or if the wind swept it away over the flowers.
“Lainey, you are more than enough.” Renee’s choked words have my attention snapping back to her. Tears are running down her face, pain from my honesty. “No parent should ever make their child feel the way that you felt, the way that you still feel.”
“I’m sorry. You came out here to enjoy the nice evening, not have me ruin it with more of my tears and trauma.” I wave my hand. “I am so tired of crying.”
“Don’t do that. Don’t you brush this under the rug. You’re safe here, and we are not going to judge you for having feelings or being a human. In fact we won’t accept anything less. You asked me what I need?” Swiping her cheeks, she straightens her posture.
“Yes?”
“I need you to always fully be yourself with us, Lainey. You might not have the LeBlanc last name yet”—Renee winks at me when my jaw drops—“but you are a LeBlanc in our hearts already. The sooner you accept that the better.”
She smiles at me like she just told me the sky was blue. Like it was a simple, known fact. You might not have the LeBlanc last name yet. The chills I have now don’t have anything to do with the unseasonably cool breeze in the garden anymore.
Breaking me from the tornado of thoughts and emotions whirling around inside my body, Renee takes my hand, tugging me gently. “Come on, dinner should be ready now. You know how serious my husband is about that darn meat smoker contraption he has been fussing with all day.”
We stand and walk back to the house together, and I enjoy the dreamy scene of lightning bugs glowing about the backyard.
A few weeks ago Remington’s parents insisted that we all start having a weekly family dinner.
Sunday was the day that was picked, and even if Remington is working I still come.
Renee told me that she hoped it would be a good routine to start and a way to get Sutton out of the house.
Since the funeral she has let her few employees run the store completely.
Which according to Remington is very un-Sutton.
She likes to have her hands in every decision regarding the store, but understandably her grief has been consuming her.
We are all worried about her and the baby.
She’s lost weight when she is supposed to be gaining, and her doctors had been concerned about preterm labor.
Her body is going through so much stress.
We have also been on rotating shifts staying with her.
Between her parents, me and Remington, Kendra, and some of her friends there is always someone with her.
Three days after the funeral we were there when a package was delivered.
Sutton opened it at the kitchen table robotically, saying she had no idea what it could be since she didn’t remember ordering anything.
When she pulled out a soft, handmade green baby blanket with little white sheep all over it, Sutton looked like she saw a ghost. There was a note from the maker, a woman in England, thanking Deck for the custom order and congratulating them on the baby.
Sutton, after hugging the blanket and crying into Remington’s shoulder, explained why the blanket meant so much.
Apparently she saw it on an Etsy shop long before they ever got pregnant, told Deck how adorable she thought it was, and that it was her “dream” baby blanket.
Sutton had no idea he’d even remembered it, let alone ordered it.
Entering the kitchen Remington immediately tracks my red, puffy eyes and comes over to me. “What’s wrong?” he asks, cupping my cheek, tracing that rough, calming thumb along my jawline.
“Everything is fine, Rem.” Renee pats his tense shoulders, but he still doesn’t relax until I give a small bob of my own head.
“We were having some overdue girl time. A little heart to heart in the garden, if you will.” She winks at me, knowing exactly what her “heart” comment brings to mind, and I feel my cheeks heating.
“I’m good, promise.” I kiss his palm. Remington pulls me into a hug, and a low rumble vibrates from his chest and rattles every one of my nerves.
Dipping to whisper to me, he says, “I love it when you blush like that. I can’t wait to get you alone later and see if I can make other parts of your skin match.” I can feel my blush deepen as he kisses my cheek, walks off to grab a plate for dinner, and leaves me beyond flustered.
As much as I wanted Remington to make good on his dirty promises to me, we didn’t go back to his house together.
He got called out to a fire on the east side of town.
According to the spouse text group there was a massive warehouse fire and all the FGFD guys got called plus the crews from two neighboring towns.
The girls said it isn’t often for fires this big to happen or for them all to get called at once, but when they do everything is dropped and they answer the call.
Before he left, Remington quickly said goodbye to his parents and Sutton. Then he stalked across the room to me, not caring that we were not alone and kissed me deeply. “I love you, Lainey.” His deep voice is as urgent as his kiss.
“I love you, too. Be careful, Remington.” I lock my hands on his face, making him pause for a beat to really look at me before he rushes off.
“Always, baby.” Kissing one more time, he leaves me standing with his family but takes my heart out the door with him.
I hear a sigh behind me and turn to see Charles and Renee hugging. I know that it must be hard for them to watch their son run into danger. Sutton is sitting on the couch, staring off into space, biting her bottom lip. I go sit next to her and wonder if I can offer any comfort to her worried mind.
“She doesn’t have a crib,” Sutton says, her hand resting on her large belly.
“He was going to build her crib when he got home. It’s in her room, in the box.
I can’t even go in there. She is going to be here so soon.
I am thirty-seven weeks. How am I going to be her mother when I can’t even go in her room, Lainey? ”
“Maybe we can go in together?” I offer.
Sutton nods and closes her eyes as if she is willing her grief to stay locked inside herself.
“I know it’s not the same. It can’t be, but we are here for you. We can make her room comfortable and special. Add some touches that will honor Deck if you want to?”
“We hadn’t settled on a theme or anything like that for decorating.
I wanted to wait until we knew if we were having a boy or a girl.
But now . . . I think we should base it off of the blanket.
What do you think?” Sutton looks at me, and the first small glimmer of something that resembles happiness or hope is lingering just beneath the surface.
Taking her hand I say, “I think that is exactly what her nursery should be. It’s like Deck picked it himself. He knew what you loved and gave you that gift.”
Renee walks over, having been listening to our conversation and bends over the back of the couch wrapping us both in a hug. “I think this baby nursery should be our special project for us to do together! A girls’ project for our new little girl in the family.”
“Okay,” Sutton agrees. This is the most she has talked about anything regarding the baby or plans for the future.
I, for one, am going to grab on with both hands and try to make this room perfect for the baby, of course, but for Sutton, too.
I don’t want her to walk in and feel sad.
I want her to go into that room and have it feel like it’s her sanctuary, like Renee’s garden.
“What if we did a mural on one of the walls?” I brainstorm aloud. “We could make it look like a beautiful meadow with wildflowers, and even paint a few of the fluffy sheep to match the blanket?”
Sutton’s actually getting excited at the idea, and Renee gives me a look, one that says she is proud of me for being right where I am supposed to be.
“I am not sure how we can find someone to paint a mural like that,” I say, grabbing my phone so I can start a list of things to do for the room.
“But maybe we can research someone local and get some pricing estimates? I can ask Kendra too, she knows lots of artists. Oh, Sutton, do you have any store connections, or an artist you know of?”
The two women share a quick look that I don’t really understand—it must be some kind mother-daughter thing. Sutton says, “Actually I think I know the perfect person. Let me take care of that part, Lainey. I’ll see what their availability is.”
“Great!” Renee exclaims. “Charles! Bring the girls some snacks, we have planning to do for our granddaughter.” Her smile is bright and contagious.
I look over at Sutton and I see that for the first time since we were all laughing in her kitchen, looking at Kendra’s mug before that doorbell rang, Sutton has a real smile on her face.