Page 78 of Every Single Wildflower
I’m helping her hang clothes while Dad, Cooper, Ryder, and Maddox play cards in the dining room.
“I mean, I’ve always thought he was the hotter brother.”
“Mom!” I gasp.
“What? I’m not blind, sweetheart," she teases. “So, what’s going on? Does this mean you are staying?” Her blue eyes look hopeful, and I sit down on the edge of the bed.
“I would like to. I still have an apartment to deal with and I have a job.” I sigh. “It may take me a bit, but I would like to come home.”
She places a hand on her heart. “I would love that.”
“Mom…about what happened. With dad.” I shift on the bed. “I’m so sorry.”
Her hand cups my jaw. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“Why did you forgive him?” I ask.
I spent a long time trying to put myself in her shoes. Would I have forgiven Maddox?
She places a hanger down on the bed. “Marriage is hard. Loving a cowboy even harder. There’s a lot of things we do to protect each other. To protect our children. And I owe everything to your father. He saved my life once upon a time and I had a choice to make. I can assure you it wasn’t made lightly. But I chose forgiveness. I chose to fight for the love I wanted.”
Her answer has a smile forming on my lips. “I'm glad you did.”
She smiles. “Me too. Now can you grab that other box of hangers from the floor over there.”
“Sure.” I slip off the bed and walk to the other side.
Crouching down, I reach for the box, but a photograph on the floor snags my attention.
I pick up the baby photo I recognize then see another fall down in its place. I lift the bed skirt and slide out the box overflowing with old photographs. My baby pictures. Cooper’s and Ryder’s as well, mixed in with mom and dad’s wedding photos. I frown when I spot the small white folder that’s always held our birth certificates. Confusion clouds my brain as I vividly remember this exact box in our attic next to grandma’s trunk.
“Mom,” I croak. I stand, holding the box in my hand. “Why do you have these?”
These should have been destroyed in the fire. Everything was destroyed.
Her face draws down, the story she was telling fading as she sees what I’m holding.
“Mom,” I press.
She calmly holds a finger to her lips. “Keep your voice down, Ivy.”
I look at the pictures, then back up to her.
“It was you?”
She straightens her shoulders, a mother’s strength in her stance. “I told you. I chose to fight.”
Ruthie
Eight days ago
Sweat drips from my brow as I finish stripping the last wire. I swipe my forehead before I stand, my hand gripping my lower back. Three days ago, I was digging for paperwork regarding our health insurance when I came across the stacks of past due notices Emmett had tried but failed to hide. It wasn’t hard to see what the red stamped notices meant, and the fifty-thousand-dollar tax bill is what hammered in just how much trouble this ranch was in. I kept quiet. Kept in the kitchen, cooking food and raising babies. I left the finances to Emmett, but it’s clear he’s spiraling. Along with the ranch. After combing through what documents, I could get my hands on. I knew what our options were. Sell or, lose it. And neither was an option. I had a duty. A family. A husband. And I would protect him with every fiber of my being. Even if that meant burning down his ranch, to save it.
Epilogue
Ivy
Four months later
