“No, I got married toyou,” I correct her, trying to pull her hand off her face so I can look into her eyes and show her how serious I am.
“I know, but I’ve done hardly any of the hard stuff, and you?—”
“Stop with the idea that I’ve already done enough by marrying you,” I say, cutting her off this time. “We’re not there anymore. We’re married. This is our home, and it’sourresponsibility.”
She pulls the hand off her eyes, huffs heavily, and sits up in one swift sequence of movements. “Wolf! What I hate is how one-sided it’s been. You’re the one who had to change his life?—”
“Uh, so did you.”
“But it was formybenefit.”
“Maybe, but it also keeps this land and this town from turning into a commercial, billionaire retreat.”
“And now you’re the one fixing things and offering to open your wallet. What have I done?” Her shoulders slump, and her head tilts to the side as her eyes search mine, pleading with me to see what she’s trying to say.
I shift my weight to my ass, fully sitting on the ground to face her and take a breath as I fold my arms over my knees. “So are you trying to say you feel like a damsel?”
“Sort of.” She flops back on the grass and resumes her look of despair, draping her arm over her face again. “More like a deadbeat housewife.”
“You could start your own reality show. Ironvale Ridge edition?—”
Her free arms sweeps out blindly to smack my leg. “I just don’t like that you’re the one doing all the heavy lifting.”
I let out a sigh and allow the quiet spring breeze to soothe our mutual silence. I was thirteen when my parents passed. But I remember plenty about their relationship. “You know, sometimes being married means being a team, and sometimes it means taking turns,” I muse out loud finally.
Molly doesn’t move her arm away from her face, but her body stills, as if she’s listening for me to go on.
“You’ve had a long turn by yourself. During that time, I’ve had it easy. I went to work and lived on my family compound for a low expense that included a cook and housekeeper while I got to store the majority of my income away.”
Molly finally removes her arm and squints up at me past the sun in her eyes. A few strands of hair have come loose from her messy bun, one of them blowing across her forehead and driving me wild.
“Now, the way I see it,” I continue as I shift over and drape my body across hers, letting my elbow support me. “You can keep scrambling, trying to do any little part you can while getting down on yourself that it’s not enough. Or you can let me takewhat I can of the load so that you have enough energy and support beneath you to step up the way you want to.”
She squints at me a little longer, and when she finally speaks, she says, “How are you all of a sudden a marriage expert?”
I blow out a rattled breath. “Believe me, I’m no expert. I just had to call up a couple memories of watching my parents’ dynamic when I was younger. I had to dig real deep.”
She lets out an airy chuckle. “Need an ice pack and a cocktail for your inner empath?”
“Yup.”
“So your parents had a pretty good marriage then?”
I nod.
“Do you still miss them?”
I give her another nod before looking away as I feel myself stiffen a little. Gazing out past the meadow at the trees, I stay still and listen to the breeze, both willing her not to ask anymore questions and steeling myself in case she does. Opening up to her seems to get easier but very little at a time. I’m not looking at her face to read it but when enough seconds tick by, take us back to the topic at hand. “Now are you going to let yourself be taken care of by your husband, or do I need to throw you over my shoulder and dump you in the pond out back to reset your system?” I’m being a little snarky, but I’m hoping to lead her away from memory lane. Emotions are complex and overwhelming at times.
“I will, so long as you’re not an asshole caveman about it,” she concedes, lifting an eyebrow up at me.
There’s my tough girl. I lean back to take her in, wondering how I got so lucky, then notice a purple clover in the grass just above her head. I pluck it from the ground and hand it to her. “Maybe this will help…”
She takes the flower from me and holds it far from her face, gazing at it before smiling softly.
“You know, for a place called Clover Hill, there’s not a whole lot of those around,” I say.
“It’s what makes them special,” she schools me and closes her hand around the little flower.