The Blooms That Broke Us (Tennessee Love Stories)

by Ashley Dill

“I reckon you’ll know when you’re more concerned about whether you’re loving him rightly than whether he’s loving you rightly. You’ll know when you stop wishing he’d make it up to you.”

“I need his—his forgiveness too.” “Then lead.” “Lead?” “In forgiveness. It starts with one. If you have wrongs to right, make them right.”

Take it from someone who was married a long time. Love ain’t romance. It’s grit.”

“I’m not wearing a ring because I have butterflies.” Jack was in it for real. In it to cultivate us. He didn’t have all the tools and all the answers, but he was trying. He’d come to the conclusion that our little family was worth the back-breaking. But it takes two.

Maybe I was more like Jack and my mother than I knew. We all had the same problem. No one wanted to do the hard things. No one stayed through the fire.

Miranda sniffled beside me. The first page was simple. There was a date, a red flower, a green gemstone, and a name. It felt like someone placed a cement block on my shoulders. Why did I not know she named them? August Joy.

Felt like my heart was pumping slow, laboring under the weight. Because the worst part was…I understood. For the first time, I understood how I’d abandoned my wife. I got why she left. I saw it. Plain as day. A few times, I’d told her I understood. But I didn’t. Not like this. I destroyed our marriage single-handedly.

I did care about her, but had failed to demonstrate it to the point that my wife was thanking me for flipping through the pages of a book she’d made with pieces of her soul.

But I couldn’t leave. This time would be different. My love for her anchored me.

I didn’t deserve for her to stay. But I would stay. I would be the anchor I should’ve always been. Be the one she could count on when everyone else walked away. Not because I wanted to manufacture the outcome, but because this precious woman in my arms deserved it.

This. This was what my wife needed from me when she had grieved our children. Images of her crying like this, curled in a ball all alone, while I was off running or watching a stupid game or doing some other dumb crap made me so angry at myself I could hardly draw a full breath.

I loved her. Please forgive me, Miranda. I wanted to beg her, but I promised I’d stop pressuring her. I gave my word.

There were lots of tears, but also laughter. Each generation following Richard was full of life and joy. A harvest.

I thanked Richard a hundred times in my heart. Hoped he could hear how grateful I was. I thanked Rose too. For loving Richard so much he had love overflowing for me. For letting me be a recipient of all they had to give. For letting me have the special things they were so intent on giving away.

At home, Jack gave me space when I asked for it and suffocated me with a hug when I asked for that too. My asking was growth. I told him what I needed, and he didn’t shy away.

My basket wasn’t overflowing, but it wouldn’t be long. The foundation was strong and the harvest was promising.

For my babies to be acknowledged felt—good. A hard type of good.

She smoothed her dress. “I feel so cheesy.” “Here, let me make it worse.” I grabbed her hand, pulling her out of her seat and leading her to my lap. I grabbed the back of her knee and directed her to sit, straddling my legs, facing me. She laughed, only inches from my face now. “Oh my gosh, this does make it worse.”

“I promise to love you in all seasons of life.” She sniffed. “To grow with you through every storm. I promise to protect your heart. To keep a watchful eye over things that would steal from our love. And to purge myself of selfishness that would choke out our reward.” Her sweet lips trembled. “I promise to nourish you and help you be everything you are meant to be. When things are hard, I promise to stay. To mess up. To learn with you. To change with you. And to mature with you.” “May our love be ardent, faithful, and unending. May our love be so deeply rooted, it outlasts us. From this day forward, my heart will be your only home. And yours, mine.”

She brought her lips to mine. They were soft, sweet. This kiss felt different than the ones we shared before. Before, we were desperate. Desperate to convince the other. Desperate for as much as we could get before it ended. But this was tender, meaning-packed. We knew we had a lifetime.

“Because I wanted you to forget. It was easier for me. But I’m not going to make that mistake again. This is my attempt to bear pain with you. To remember what we’ve lost and where we came from. And to protect the blessing of what we have.”

We’re bound, abundant. Strong in our love. It’s interesting looking back. At one point, I would’ve said those blooms broke us. And maybe they did. For a time. But not all broken things are beyond repair.