Page 124 of The Best Kind of Bad

We pull up to the field Marnie has renamed Beeville. She pushes the truck door open, and Ed hops out, chasing after an unsuspecting blackbird.

Marnie watches him splash through a mud puddle. “He’s going to need a bath when he gets home.”

“If you wouldn’t let him in the bed, we wouldn’t have to worry about it.” I climb out of the truck, and she slides out behind me.

She breathes deep. “Petrichor.”

“Petri-what?”

She grins. “Petrichor. The smell after rain.”

“Damn, woman. You turn every little thing into a miracle.”

“It is a miracle.” She slides an arm around my waist.

We survey the field. It’s still early. The sun has risen, but there’s still a peachy glow to the hillside. Raindrops hang on every blade of grass. As we walk along the lane, I spot a spiderweb, dewdrops clinging like diamonds to each thread.

I breathe deep, filling my lungs. Excitement fills my chest. I’ve been working on this secret project for months.

Months.

And Marnie is the curious sort. Keeping it from her has been half the battle.

We come around the bend, and she spots the rest of the trouble.

The good kind of trouble.

The kind that’s worth every drop of sweat, every bee sting.

Bringing Marnie into my life is the best thing I’ve ever done.

But we didn’t necessarily get a happily ever after. I don’t know if those exist.

And I don’t know if you’d really want one. Because, if you were just happy all the time and never experienced anything else, how would you know the difference? How would you know you were alive?

Marnie talks about chiaroscuro. The contrast between light and dark. She’s a word collector and damned if she isn’t expanding my vocabulary.

But there are some things that are too big, too important, to be contained by ordinary words.

Chiaroscuro.

Darkness and light. We wander this world through shadows and pools of sunshine, but it’s worth every step, because we’re hand in hand.

We lost Thomas back in September. A thunderstorm passed through the night before. Like the universe was giving Thomas one last show.

It’s been tough for her, but unfortunately, she and I both are old hats at this kind of thing.

I can’t take away the shadow, but I can try to be a light for her.

We walk around the bend and my little project comes into view.

Daisies, by the thousands, bob in the soft breeze.

Marnie sucks in a breath, her fingers squeezing mine. “Dusty.” Her eyes dance as she peers up at me. “This is where you put the new beehives?”

I nod. “You like it?”

Her smile is so bright it’s blinding. She throws herself into my arms, knocking the wind out of me. I chuckle, wrapping her up in my arms and lifting her feet from the ground.

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