I’m able to function better if I stay busy and keep my mind occupied, so I head to the woodshed out back. It was my refuge from the world during those long and lonely months when I was working on the house. I started something new a little while ago and I want to make sure I finish it before Ivy returns. It’s part of the surprise I plan on giving her when she gets back.

I smooth a strip of sandpaper over the solid oak surface, making sure to remove any trace of a splinter. I test the rockers again and they move easily, not too little, not too much. All I have to do is apply the special non-toxic varnish and it’ll be all set—the crib for our baby.

I just wish I could forget what happened to the last one I built.

* * *

It was the night of Cassidy’s death. I was alone with a bottle of whiskey sitting in the bare bones of our house while the rain was pouring outside. I couldn’t believe that she was actually gone and that our baby would never get the chance to live. I was so mad I couldn’t see straight. I barreled up the planks serving as a temporary staircase and charged into the shell of a room that was to be the nursery. I trudged through a thick pile of sawdust and grabbed the crib. It was placed in the middle of the floor, awaiting the baby it would never hold.

Rushing back downstairs, I hurled it with all my might against the stone fireplace, dashing it to pieces. But that wasn’t enough. Even though it was July, I worked frantically to get a fire going in the hearth. It was dangerous to strike a match around so much untreated wood, especially with the wind raging through the chimney, but I didn’t care. I’d never get to bury my child. Cassidy’s womb would serve as its final resting place. I had to make some kind of offering to show how much I’d lost.

It didn’t take long to get a good blaze going even with the rain trickling down the eaves. I was like a madman, determined to finish the job. The elements of nature were not going to stand in my way. I was beyond them now, in a hell of my own making.

I picked up the broken shards of the crib and tossed them one by one into the fire. My chest constricted when I saw the border of flowers I’d engraved burst into flames. I was going to explain to our baby what I did for a living by tracing its pudgy fingers over the carvings of the rose and the daisy next to the tulip and the sunflower. So many hours of love went into the creation of that crib. I’d poured my heart and soul into it. That’s where our baby was going to dream sweet dreams and grow into a strong and healthy toddler. Cassidy and I were going to keep it beside our bed, ready to respond at the first hint of a whimper.

I cast a long shadow as I stood there and watched it burn. My tears mixed with the soot on my face, making me feel like a gravedigger of a different variety. I was accustomed to cultivating life and watching things grow. I had no idea how to handle being on the opposite end of the spectrum, glorying in the death and destruction of everything I held dear.

In that moment, I came to a stark realization. I needed a break. I was on the brink of diving into a deep, dark place I wasn’t sure I’d ever get out of. If I’d willingly jumped into the abyss, there’d be no saving me. I would have been lost forever. If I’d ended my life out of despair, I’d forever be separated from Cassidy and our baby, in this life and the next. I couldn’t give up on the possibility of one day being reunited with them in heaven. I’m not an overly religious guy but I knew I’d never forgive myself for going down a path of self-destruction, no matter how much I just wanted the pain of life to stop.

* * *

I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memory and how close I came to taking my life on that storm-swept night. I’ve come so far in the last two and a half years. I have Ivy. I have a new baby on the way. The house is finished. The garden center is thriving. I have so much to be thankful for. But there’s one last thing that will make it all complete.

“C’mon, Shep,” I call out, patting the side of my leg after putting the varnish away. “It’s time.”

I yank the chain dangling from the exposed light bulb in the woodshed and snap the padlock on the door while Shep fidgets beside me. I take off at a run and Shep races me to my truck. There’s a lightness to my step when I think about the errand we are going on.

I look up at the house and really take it in. Even though Ivy isn’t here, I feel her presence all around me. Her muddy clogs rest near the flowerbed she was digging up for winter. Her rocking chair faces mine from the last time I massaged her feet. Next to the koi pond she loves so much, her junker of a car is parked—badly in need of a new transmission we just can’t afford. Thankfully what I’m after doesn’t require money. It’s something that’s been in my family for generations, and now it’s going to be hers.

Hoisting myself behind the wheel, I let Shep jump onto my lap and crawl over me. He gets to ride shotgun because Ivy isn’t here and his ears prick up, showing his excitement. His tongue slobbers across my face as he gives me a big ol’ sloppy kiss on the cheek.

“Gee, thanks,” I chuckle, pulling him away by the collar. “You missed having me all to yourself, didn’t you?”

But Shep’s anxious to get going as he moves over to look out the window, swatting me in the face with his tail as he goes by.

“All right, to grandmother’s house we go.” I exclaim, heading down the road with a smile on my face.

From the moment I swept Ivy off her feet, I pictured making this journey. Driving to my parents’ house. Asking for my grandmother’s ring. Placing it on Ivy’s finger. Showing her how much I’ve come to care about her—first with my words, then with my body. Since the day we met, I’ve hoped that this would be where we’d end up. Call me a fool. Call me old-fashioned. Call me crazy. The instant I held her in my arms, I knew I wanted to live again.

I thought that I was done with romance, that I’d had my shot at love. But one look at her and I was a goner. I wasn’t expecting it. I wasn’t looking for it. But there she was—the gift I’d never intended to receive. Nestled in those sparkling green eyes, life was giving me a second chance.

Up until then, getting through each day felt like I was holding my breath underwater, just waiting to drown. But the way she looked at me pulled me to the surface, out of the murky depths. I was clumsy at first, gasping and sputtering, relearning how to breathe and what it felt like to be alive. But she was patient with me, showing me how to bask in the warm glow of daylight again. Just being around her rejuvenated my spirit, like she was the lifeguard of my soul.

Lost in my daydreams of Ivy, I can’t believe we’re already here as I beep the horn at the base of the rocky trail leading to my parents’ house. It takes so long to creep up the uneven terrain that it became a habit to honk at the gate. My dad likes to be standing at the door, treat in hand, ready to greet Shep when he arrives. So I always have to give him a heads-up when his ‘grand-dog’ is on the way. Beside me, Shep is already going nuts.

I chuckle to myself when I see my dad in his suspenders sitting outside. He has his glasses perched up top of his head, and he looks worn out. He’s been having those headaches again. I should’ve manned up and completed the shift at the garden center instead of bothering him about it.

He smiles when we pull up, but I still feel guilty. I’m going to have to get a better grip on my emotions. I can’t keep putting him through this. He’s seen enough of my moods to last a lifetime.

“There’s my buddy,” he says, opening the car door to let Shep out. “I have your Milk-Bone all ready for you.”

“You have that dog spoiled rotten,” I mutter, joining them as we walk inside. “I can just imagine how you’re going to be when you have a real grandchild to fawn over.”

“Did your mom tell you about the stuffed giraffe we came across the other day?” he asks, rubbing his hands together. “It’s eight feet tall and its neck goes all the way to the ceiling.”

“You didn’t buy it, I hope.” I groan audibly as we enter the kitchen, and I give my mom a kiss.

“Of course we did, sweetie. How could we pass something like that up?” my mom exclaims, grinning at me.

“Don’t you think it might scare the baby? I want my child to feel safe in the nursery, especially after all the hours I spent making the crib,” I argue, even though it’s a lost cause. I already have visions of strapping the stuffed monstrosity to the back of my truck, fuzzy neck and all. There’s no getting out of it now.

“Oh good! So you did finish it.” My mom’s face lights up. “It’s on to step two then?”

“That’s why I’m here. I plan on proposing to Ivy the minute she steps off that plane.” My chest fills with pride. I want nothing more than to make Ivy my wife. Sure, we’re living together, and she just so happens to be carrying my child. But there’s something about walking down the aisle and making it official. I want to share everything I have with her. My name. My heart. My life.

“Did you hear from her yet?” my dad asks softly after having seen me go off the rails earlier today. I was ready to freak out after a little girl toppled over a whole bushel of apples, sending them sprawling across the floor. My nerves at that point were razor thin. My dad knew I didn’t need any more aggravation. He simply patted me on the back as I walked out the door.

I hate having to ask people for help, but I learned that sometimes it’s necessary, especially when I’m feeling overly stressed and at my breaking point. It’s no good flying off the handle when all I need is a few quiet moments to myself. Since my blow-up with Ivy for wearing Cassidy’s shirt, my dad made me realize what my limitations are. I can’t let life push me that far or let certain things trigger my meltdowns. I can’t always be in control, but I have to remember to step back and breathe whenever I start to feel overwhelmed. If I don’t, I only end up hurting the ones I love.