The Blooms That Broke Us (Tennessee Love Stories)

by Ashley Dill

“Jack?” I said nothing, just waited. “I was hungry. Thank you.” Those words sent a blend of feelings storming into my chest. Anger she’d ever known stress to such a degree. Relief my plan worked. And debilitating longing for so much more.

I reached up and tenderly ran my fingertips through her hair. Down her arm. Over her back. Anywhere she would let me while still remaining appropriate. Any rigidity left in her body dissolved as my palms rubbed tension away. We stayed like that for a good long while. Me massaging, her melting. She was…falling back asleep? I stilled, listening to her breath. It had deepened. I hadn’t planned on sleeping here, but I wasn’t going to be the one to make her move.

Before I closed the door, I looked back. Two blonde heads snuggled close together. Little lumps under the covers. They had no place to call their own. No one watching out for them. Their only safety was each other. Something behind my breastbone burned. Knew it would be a long time before that image left my mind.

Richard said his wife had requested they make a path and they did it together. Stone by stone. It was finished right before her ten-year off-and-on battle with cancer began. She worked less and less in the garden. Some days she’d only make it out to the patio chair. But he tended it. For her. Because she loved her garden and he loved her.

🥺

“First gardening lesson is this—most gardens don’t do real well.” “How come?” “Because folks are so excited about gettin’ a harvest, they don’t take time to work on the foundation.” “The soil.” He nodded. “That’s right. It’s the most important part of your garden. If your soil’s depleted or infested, the harvest will suffer until it eventually dies off completely. Lots of people stick seeds or transplants right into a foundation that’s far from ready and wonder why things didn’t pan out.”

“Death makes the soil stronger in the long run,” he explained. “Without some dyin’ now and then, the soil will deplete. You can always dump in some manufactured chemicals to give it a boost, but nothing strengthens the foundation like a good dose of dead plants. Brings about new life.”

She had always complained about how fine her hair was because it slipped out of whatever hairstyle she attempted. But the tousled look was beautiful on her—and drove me crazy.

She had apologized to me yesterday for not asking first before using the garden—as if I would’ve been upset or something. She didn’t realize she could have whatever she wanted.

“They get what they work for, and so will you. Neglect will affect the bounty. You might get some harvest, but it won’t be nothing to write home about.”

I couldn’t help but slide glances Miranda’s direction as she leaned into the garden. We were working side by side and her tank top kept riding up on her hips. I didn’t understand how a few inches of skin could make me lose my head, but I was well on my way to half-mad, my thoughts spinning a thousand miles an hour.

A good dose of mulch had gathered on her bare thighs. I reached over and ran the back of my hand down her thigh, knocking the mulch into the grass. She froze, a handful cradled in her gloves. Her soft skin made me ache. I flipped my hand and did it one more time. Because…mulch. Let my thumb dust the top of her knee before pulling away. Her brown eyes roamed my expression, trying to read. She saw how much I adored her. She had to. I doubted I could keep it off my face.

And the sweatshirt? I still hadn’t washed it. Every night it disappeared then magically reappeared the next morning. Except for once. I came down after he was already gone for work, and it took me several minutes to locate it. When I found it, I cried. It was in his unmade bed by his pillow. Seeing it crumpled up where he laid his head was too much.

What was it he just said? This is new. I let my eyes flutter closed for a second. Jack was the only person on earth familiar with the soles of my feet.

He wrestled my arms down. “You are officially limited to one glass.” His words were peppered with the most adorable sounds, laughter leaking out. “Your extra two ounces is making you see things.”

We were pressed together, and it felt like home.

I leaned over her chair, my gaze riveted to her lips. It would be evil to kiss Miranda without her expecting it, but I wouldn’t say it didn’t cross my mind.

If I ever entertained for a second that there was anyone on the planet for me besides her, I was dead wrong. Miranda was perfect. If I was a schedule, she was the freedom. The whimsical to my practical. And the heart for my brain. Everything I wasn’t. Everything I wanted. It’s why no one else had ever been able to take her place. I loved her before. I loved her after. I loved her now.

“This second chance with you might be the only nice thing my dad has ever done for me. And I plan to take full advantage. I let you walk away back then, but I don’t plan to let you go so easily this time.”

I leaned forward, whispering my next words over her ear. “And I’m going to kiss you now, because if I don’t”—I huffed—“I think I may wither and die. Right here on the kitchen floor.”

“I—I need to—to go to him.” We held gazes for a long moment. Anguish in her expression. Certainly a mirror of my own. My whisper was hoarse, a needy begging. “Come back. Please come back.”

In his mind, it was off the table because he trusted me. Harboring this information was betrayal. I was a traitor.

“Thank you, Miranda. And hey, please know you’re invited. You don’t have to stay upstairs.” He paused. “I want you with me, if you’re comfortable with it.” I want you. Those words were five years too late.

“Too much rain will wash away your seeds!” Too much rain? What was I supposed to do about that? You can’t protect a garden from rain. Tears pricked my eyes. The dumb garden was one more thing I ultimately had no control over.

A tingle in my eyes made me blink. “You can’t protect a garden from rain.” Richard clasped his hands together, leaning his weight against the fence. “True, true. Sometimes the heavy rain visits ’fore the little seeds are ready.”

“What do you think you should do?” I loved Richard, but he could be awful cryptic sometimes. “Uh, start over?” He shook his head. “Nah. That’s going back too far. You got that good foundation in place. Just rebuild. Harvest might be delayed a bit, but you’ll still get one. Some years, you’ll have better, easier harvests than others. And that’s okay.”

“Have you ever felt so lost you wanted to give up?” He clicked his tongue. “Many times. Many times.” “What did you do?” “The next right thing.”

The pain in my heart would’ve been more bearable if he didn’t know. It would be less painful to suffer alone, than to have a partner and still suffer alone. After it was over, he tucked a blanket around me and made sure I had a few things—like the remote and ibuprofen. Then worked a twelve hour shift.

This was such a Jack move. As long as I’d known him, he excelled in the sweet, romantic gestures department. If only you could build a marriage on those. But still. I had to stop ugly crying in order to drive.

At first, I thought we would never come back from the misunderstanding. That notion was zapped so fast. Now, I was pretty sure I’d watch her six while she murdered someone.

“The world is a crazy place. But a tended garden is a place of peace.”

“Child, don’t be naive. No man would do all that unless he was so in love he couldn’t think straight.”

“To be able to look at yourself and know you have to change is a good first step, Jack.” “Any advice on the next one? Right now, I feel pretty lost.”

“You might. But just because you know all the clues doesn’t mean you’ve solved the mystery. There’s a difference between know and understand.”

“Maybe I’m weird, but I think it’s an honor we get to help each other heal. I have their hearts in my hands and I don’t take that lightly. It makes life a lot more painful and a lot more complicated, but they’re worth it.

The look in his eyes made it hard to inhale. “As long as you are in my house, under my roof, I refuse to lay off. I’m always going to be working on loving my wife. You don’t have to reciprocate. You don’t even have to like it. Because whether you want it or not, I’m going to make you see how much I love you.”

“What type of stuff did he ask you for?” That’s when my eyes started burning. “Little things at first. Make dinner. Clean the house. Run this to the bank for me. Watch a movie with me. Have a romantic dinner with me. It just”—I swallowed the lump forming—“things just escalated from there. I ended up being his girlfriend and I wasn’t even sure how it happened. There were a lot of little compromises that…stacked up over time. I was not in a place to make smart decisions anyway. Saying no and holding boundaries…I couldn’t do it. I was struggling postpartum, felt…” I shrugged, letting my explanation be good enough.

My muscles twitched with anticipation at the upcoming fight. I nearly trembled with rage. Seeing Chris face to face—and allowing him to live to tell the tale—was going to take a level of strength I rarely exerted.

“If you ever show your face in Nashville or contact my family, plastic surgeons won’t know what to do with you.”

“Okay.” I tried to hide my irritation. I was confused enough as it was. “Then what would you do in my place?” He nodded once. “The work. The tending.” “Can you just tell me what you mean in plain terms?” “Forgive him. Try again. Fight like hell.”

“No, I don’t think he will. He got the message loud and clear.” “The message?” “That we’re married. That you’re mine. That if he tries anything funny, he’s a dead man.”

“I have no intention of making all the same mistakes.” “Well, for me, the mistake is trusting—” She waved a hand. “Forget it.” “No, finish what you were going to say.” “It doesn’t matter.” “How you feel absolutely matters.”

She did her best to hold herself together, but failed. The tears came, whether she liked it or not. She said, “I’m sorry. I know you hate this.” She apologized like four times as she pushed back under the onslaught. I held her hand. Helpless to do much else. Her battle against her emotions was an attempt to protect me, and I didn’t know what to do with that exactly. The truth hit me in the gut like a punch. I’d made her feel like she wasn’t acceptable this way. Hadn’t I?

My hand came to my ring finger as I twisted the symbol of our union. To the rest of the world, I was taken. Even if she refused to take me back.

Her gaze settled on my lips again. And mine to hers. She wanted to kiss me. And the knowledge kept me on the edge of our precipice. Silently begging her to push us over the brink. I wouldn’t do it even though every cell in my body was begging me to. She needed to want us enough to take the risk. And I’d chase every crumb she threw me.

“I want to fight for that feeling, but I am”—my lips trembled and I ran a hand over them—“so scared to get my heart broken again. I was…in a really bad place for a long time after I lost Jack. I don’t know if I can do it again.” Richard grunted and shook his head with a small laugh. “What was that for?” “You’re talking about a broken heart like you can avoid it.” “Can’t I?” “No, I don’t reckon you can. Seems like you’re pretty tangled. Will moving out and signing divorce papers really make you feel better?”

“Some folks think you either got love, or you don’t. Rose and I found it ain’t that simple. Love grows. Love strengthens like a muscle. You give some then give more over time. It ain’t just a feeling. It’s a skill.”

“Love is something you practice, child. Something you break your back working for. Leaving will break you. But so will loving. It will hurt you to love patiently. To forgive over and over. To sacrifice.”

The mental image of a pantry stocked from floor to ceiling with old fashioned Ball jars filled my mind. An abundant harvest. Something real enough, big enough, that many felt its power. The special things are meant to be given away.

You don’t need to be invited. Forgiveness happens in the heart whether someone even realizes they need to be forgiven.”

“You just need some rewiring. If you want relationships in your life to thrive, you got to operate for their good, not your own.” “That’s exactly the opposite of everything people say.” “Yep. And it’s the reason sixty-plus year marriages will die with my generation. Forgiveness, love, commitment—they’re all sacrifices. Painful ones sometimes. Folks don’t like pain.”