I inhaled, trying to compose myself, not willing to drag my kids into my shame spiral.
Ellie hummed. “And we can be both sad that Dad turned out to be terrible and also really happy that we have each other.”
“Yeah,” Maggie added. “And we can be happy that because he sucked, we get to live in a cool house in a cool town.”
“On a farm!” Julian added.
Warmth bloomed inside me at their positivity.
“You taught us that we can feel multiple feelings at once. Don’t forget that,” Ellie said, wise beyond her years. “And our family may look different, but we’re super awesome.”
I hugged them all, my little hive, and took a few deep breaths. A strange mix of pride, grief, and uncertainty mingled inside me. Things were looking up.
Even so, forward progress was never linear, and my kids deserved to grieve their dad.
I’d done the right thing.
Now I had to keep going. Even when my heart was breaking for all they’d lost.
Chapter 17
Josh
By the third house, Celine’s façade cracked a little. She still knocked confidently, with her trusty clipboard tucked under her arm and her shoulders squared. But she couldn’t quite hide her nerves.
She’d take a step back after knocking, then she’d angle herself so she could see past the person who opened the door. And she always kept her hands busy and her head on a swivel.
I should have been on the farm, working. Instead I was door knocking with Celine, finalizing decoration plans for the hayride route.
Each time I recognized another sign of her unease, I felt a little more protective of her. Doing this had forced her to push through some serious discomfort, and I couldn’t help but be impressed.
So here I was, following her lead, though being sure I introduced her to each person we met, all of them people I’d known my entire life.
Mrs. Glover met us at the door with a wide smile. “Are you here to ask me to decorate? I’ve been hoping you would,” she said with a grin. “Do you want a cup of tea?”
“The house looks great,” I said, diverting the woman’s attention away from Celine.
Mr. Glover appeared behind her, his movements slow, his cane in hand. “We can never thank you enough for helping us, son,” he said. “Truly, if you need anything, all you have to do is ask.”
Lips tugging down, Celine looked from the elderly couple to me.
“We had a chimney fire early this spring,” Mrs. Glover said. “And Joshua insisted we stay at the cottage on his farm.”
“Free of charge,” Mr. Glover added. “It’s quite a fancy house.”
My face heated, but I was too off-kilter to come up with a way to change the subject.
Celine smiled, connecting the dots.
“At least take some banana bread,” Mrs. Glover said. “I baked a dozen loaves this morning for my bridge group tonight. Please come in for a moment.”
“And I’m ready to decorate.” Mr. Glover shuffled back, his feet barely lifting off the floor as he moved. “I’ve got a tall ladder.”
I cringed. He had no business getting on a ladder. Not at his age. So I made a mental note to come over and decorate for him.
We relented easily, joining the Glovers for a cup of tea and banana bread while Mrs. Gloveroohed over photos ofCeline’s kids. Then she sent Mr. Glover to the basement to pull out their scarecrows and lanterns.
By the time we returned to the sidewalk, Celine was smiling. “Is everyone in this town like that?”