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I smile, genuinely this time, warmed by the thought of Mia and me tackling this new adventure together. The conversation lulls as we continue brushing the horses. The only sounds in the stable are the soft thuds of hooves and the whisper of bristles through coats.
It’s a simple moment, but it’s grounding. And in that quiet, with Frank’s advice lingering in the air, I see a path forward to balance the ranch, my responsibilities, and my growing family.
I am standing outside the community hall, waiting for Mia to finish her nature craft class, which she has enjoyed since they moved back here. As I waited, I felt restless and couldn’t stop replaying my conversation with Frank.
His advice is meant to ease my worries but only adds more weight to them. My boots scuff the dirt, causing dust to rise and settle in the still air.
Finally, Mia emerges, her face lit up with the joy of teaching something she loves. She spots me, and her smile widens. I push off the wall, trying to shake off my unease and match her happiness.
“Hey, cowboy,” she greets me, her voice as warm as the afternoon sun. Are you waiting for someone special?”
I chuckle, drawing her in for a quick kiss. “Just for my favorite artist. I thought you might like a walk around the ranch. There’s something on my mind.”
She nods, looping her arm through mine. “I’d love that.”
We fall into a leisurely pace, the familiar landscape of the ranch a comforting presence around us. But my head is far from peaceful, and the stress of this morning’s conversation with Frank makes it tight with worry.
After a silence, I clear my throat, trying to find the right words. “Mia, I’ve been thinking. After our talk about the baby and how we will manage everything... What if I took off work at the end of your second trimester and stayed home until the newborn was about three months old?”
Mia’s steps falter slightly before she regains her pace, and she looks up at me with a frown. “Jake, that’s... That’s a long time to be away from work. I know you want to help, but I think I’ll be fine taking care of the newborn. We don’t need you to put your life on hold for that long.”
Her words hit me harder than I expected. I’ve been wrestling with the decision, knowing it would mean stepping away from the ranch, my life’s work, during one of its busiest times.
However, hearing Mia’s concerns and understanding her fear of me being out of work for too long makes me question my readiness to make such a shift.
“I just want to be there for you. And for the baby," I say quietly, watching the horizon swallow the sun. "I missed so much of Dylan's early years. I don't want to make the same mistake again."
Mia stops, pulling me to a halt. She looks up at me, her eyes soft but serious. "Jake, I love that you want to be involved. I do. But we need to think practically. You being at work doesn't mean you're not involved. We'll find a balance, I promise."
Her assurance is like a balm, easing some of the tightness in my chest. We stand there momentarily, lost in each other's eyes, the world around us fading to a mere backdrop.
I can't help but push the concern further, feeling a sting of frustration beneath my worry. "Mia, think about it. Dylan and Emily will be in school when the baby arrives. Who's going to pick them up? You can't possibly manage that while caring for a newborn."
She crosses her arms, an edge of defiance in her voice. "I can handle it, Jake. I'll find a way. Maybe I can ask my mom to help, or we can look into carpooling options with other parents."
"But why add that stress on yourself?" I argue, unable to mask the exasperation in my voice. "It just makes sense for me to be the one to take the kids to school and pick them up. It's not like I plan to be off work forever—just a few months to help."
Mia shakes her head, frustration mirroring mine. "Jake, I don't want you sacrificing so much time from the ranch. You love that work. I'll manage. The kids are at an age where they're getting more independent anyway."
Her insistence ignites something in me—an unsettling mix of admiration and irritation. "Mia, why are you acting like you're a single parent? We're in this together." The moment the words leave my mouth, I regret their harshness, but they hang between us, charged and heavy.
Her expression hardens, and she steps back, her hurt unmistakable. "Acting like a single parent? Jake, I'm just trying to be realistic. I don't want you to look back and regret missing important moments on the ranch because you were stuck doing school runs."
I take a deep breath, trying to rein in my frustration, but the words spill out, edged with a conviction I can't hold back.
"Mia, listen, I've spent years on that ranch, day in and day out. Missing a few months won't hurt. And it's not just about the ranch or the kids—it's about us, our new family, and this baby. I thought you'd want us to cherish this time together, to build something solid from the very start."
Mia's response is quick, her voice laced with a plea that tugs at me.
"Jake, I get where you're coming from. I do. But think about taking off for so long. It's a big change. The ranch needs you, and it's not just about now. What about the long-term effects? You're a pillar there. They rely on you. Can't we find a middle ground? Maybe you can reduce your hours instead of taking full leave."
Her suggestion makes sense, too much sense, but I can't shake the feeling of being pulled in two directions. The pull of my responsibilities battles with the lure of new beginnings with Mia, our children, and the baby on the way.
"I just... I thought this would be a good thing for all of us. I didn't expect you to push back so much," I admit, the frustration simmering into something more akin to disappointment.
Mia's eyes softened, and I could tell she was torn, but her following words didn't come. Instead, we stand there, swallowed by a thick silence with unspoken words and mixed feelings.
Finally, I break the silence, my voice flat, "We should get you back. You've got your next class waiting." The walk back to the front of the ranch is quiet, each step heavy with the weight of our unfinished conversation.
