Page 84 of Dandelions and Smoke

I haven’t answered Chief. Just thinking about him makes something inside me ache, and my stomach clenches. I didn’t know it was possible to miss someone with my whole body and soul. I miss him more than I thought possible, but with every picture of him and Scout he sends me, I feel more and more like I’m exactly where I need to be, even if it’s not with him. He looks so happy, and Scout’s face is lit up in every photo that he’s looking at his daddy. How could I ever let myself get in the way of that?

Before my thoughts get any louder, I finally roll myself out of bed with an “mmph” as my feet hit the cold wooden floor and get moving. At last week’s book club, the girls and I decided that we’d better hold Lettie’s baby shower sooner rather than later in case baby Cam makes a surprise early appearance. As excited as I am to meet my little Goodson, I can wait a little longer.

All week I’ve been cleaning out the utility barn. Everyone doubted my vision, but from the moment I laid eyes on it, I could see its potential and how, with a little bit of love, it could be transformed. It required a sweat-breaking amount of heavy lifting and removing bags of feed and bales of hay from inside to somewhere else, but since we don’t want Lettie having to go too far from the ranch, holding it here is perfect.

With a satisfied breath, I stop, taking in the view, wondering how anyone could see anything but beauty here. The rich cedar and dark timber barn sits beneath sprawling live oaks draped in Spanish moss. Fresh black trim frames the oversized doors, and the metal roof gleams beneath the Florida sun. Clusters of pink azaleas spill along the fence line, while yellow jessamine climbs the split-rail fence, its blossoms bright against the dark timber siding.

Beyond the paddocks, patches of blanket flowers and early wild phlox sway in the warm breeze. Despite being one of its newest buildings, it has the soul of old Little Bird Ranch, exactly as Lucas designed it to. Every detail has been crafted to look as though it’s belonged beneath these oaks for generations.

I push aside all the images swirling in my mind of how perfectly placed tealights around mason jars filled with baby’s breath, sitting upon wood slices, would create the most beautiful wedding decorations, and instead get to work on some of the final touches for Lettie’s baby shower. Lucas helped me place round tables strategically about the room earlier this week, and the girls should all be arriving soon to help me with the rest of the setup.

I pull the checklist from my pocket, and with a deep breath that feels like I’m begging the air to settle my nerves, I meticulously mark off everything that’s already been done as I review the remaining details I want set up just right to keep the day running smoothly.

By the time Hannah and Abby arrive with Sammy, aka the Godfather, carrying bag after bag of decorations that I’m honestly amazed fit through the double barn doors, I’ve already assigned every table. The gift table, food stations, and dessert display are all in place, each one carefully designated exactly where I envisioned them.

Lucas follows shortly behind them with a very pregnant and fussy Lettie in his arms, bridal style, while she glares between him and us.

“This is ridiculous!” To her dismay, her complaints fall on deaf ears.

He gently places her onto a chair where she can supervise, and we all get to work. Hannah pulls sage green chiffon meant for the tables from one of the bags and wraps it around herself like a scarf.

“This is so pretty,” she giggles, fluffing it up around her.

Abby laughs and rolls her eyes, pulling out even more and placing it where it’s meant to go around the center of the tables. “Han, only you could make table decor look like a fashion statement.”

“It does complement her red hair and green eyes pretty well,” I tease, relaxing a little despite the growing anxiety as the hours until the party tick closer.

Lettie laughs, about to leave her seat and help Abby with the fairy lights and little hockey pucks for the tables, when Sammy pushes her down with a firm hand on her shoulder.

“Don’t even think about it,” he says warmly.

She rolls her eyes and crosses her arms, dramatically blowing out a puff of air.

Sammy and Lucas arrange the chairs and carry in all the food and desserts while we girls continue decorating. Sammy’s sister Cecy even baked the cake, and it’s absolutely beautiful. It has sage-green frosting with edible gold leaf swirling up the side, matching perfectly with the party’s theme.

Gold accents are woven throughout the room, from the table runners and cutlery to the green-and-gold wrapped diaper tower with hockey sticks on top. It was Lettie’s idea, a subtle way of including Lucas in today’s celebration, since she affectionately calls him “Goldie.” While I cover our family’s blonde locs by coloring my hair pink, Lucas has fully embraced them by growing out a full-blown man bun.

Definitely a choice only he could pull off.

We all talk while we decorate, though no one seems to notice that I’m quieter than usual, opting to do more of the listening than the actual talking. Instead, I’m focusing on the final touches of adding a string of baby pictures of Lettie and Lucas to the walls. My favorite thing about their love story is the way they share childhood photos featuring one another. Their history is beautiful, like their story of how they reconnected.

My goal is to capture that with these photos so that everyone who comes to celebrate with us today can see it too. The only problem is, no matter how high up on my tiptoes I get, it’s not high enough. For the life of me, I can’t reach where the string needs to hang from.

“Ugh,” I grunt, lowering back down, holding the string of pictures helplessly in my hands.

“Need some help, hermana pequeña?” Sammy asks, sauntering over in a way that seems impossible for a six-foot-six giant.

Seriously, when the guy stands up straight, I only come up to his elbow. It would be comical if I weren’t dodging those elbows like my life depends on it every time he starts talking with his hands.

“Por favor,” I say, answering him with a please in Spanish as I hold up the string helplessly, super grateful for the human ladder that I’ve now acquired.

“You point, and I’ll hang,” he says, and soon we’ve almost gone around the whole room.

I stop to admire our work so far, taking in all the little details that are coming together and transforming this space into the dream baby shower Lettie and Lucas deserve, and smile when I glance over at Lettie to see a glassy sheen settle over her eyes.

“Aw, this looks amazing,” Lettie sighs, looking over the photos from her chair. “Ah, Goldie! Look at that one. You were so cute.”

“I’m still cute,” Lucas teases as he joins her.