Page 181 of The Blooms That Broke Us

These days, the card stays on the window sill more often than not, which I think says a lot about us.

I stroll into my happy place and find my seven-year-old picking heirloom tomatoes. He holds up a fat one and we admire it together. Jack is cutting cucumbers off the trellis. I stop to enjoy the pulsing muscles in his shoulders and forearms as the shears snap and he tosses the veggies into a basket.

He catches me staring and flashes me a slow, knowing smile. “What are you looking at?”

“You know,” I say, soaking him in.

He forces his gaze away so he can finish picking. He doesn’t have to help in the garden, but he likes to. He knows I’m happy when we’re all out there together. Thirty seconds later, he plops the basket down on a gardening table and moves toward me. “If you keep looking at me like that, Kacey is going to have to babysit for a few minutes.”

He places a warm kiss on my lips. His leaning motion bonks Levi’s head into my face. I giggle and Jack rubs Levi’s dark hair. “Oops. Sorry, buddy.”

I smile at the two of them. Inside the baby carrier, Levi is a speck against Jack’s broad chest. We all are. In fact, I’m constantly amazed Jack’s chest is big enough for all three of us to crowd in. And he pulls us close, holds us tight—often.

Our second miracle came right before we gave up hope. Levi Richard Barkley. Our violet. He’s eight months old and growing like a weed. Kacey adores having a little brother. He keeps asking for another, but after Levi, we permanently closed that door.

I marvel at the ink on Jack’s forearm. There are thirteen blooms now, because the surgery wasn’t as successful as we’d hoped. I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t heartbreaking. I grieved hard. Still do sometimes. There were and are dark days.

But now Jack is here, and I never face them alone.

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.