Page 87 of Saltwater Cowboy

Wren, her little hands full of wildflowers, looked up at us both. “Uncle Wells, do you think we can make a big bouquet for Mrs. Turner? She loves flowers, and I’m really good at arranging them.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Wells replied, grinning at her. “Let’s make sure we get the prettiest ones, then.”

I couldn’t help but smile at how easily Wells fell into his role as Uncle Wells. His bond with Wren was something special, a quiet but strong presence, the kind of connection that needed no words to be understood.

Wren handed me a particularly bright sunflower and tilted her head. “Here, Auntie Rose. You can hold this one.”

I took it with a nod. “Thanks, Wren. This is pretty.”

After we picked flowers for a little while longer, we headed back to the house to get ready to head to the nursing home. Wren was practically bouncing with excitement as she talked about all the residents she hoped to see.

At the nursing home, we made our way through the front door, where Mrs. Turner was sitting on the porch, chatting with a couple of the other residents. As soon as Wren spotted her, she rushed over, and Mrs. Turner’s face lit up in a smile as bright as the sun.

“Well, if it isn’t my favorite little flower girl,” Mrs. Turner said, reaching out to hug Wren. “Did you bring me more of your sunshine today?”

Wren giggled, holding out the bouquet of flowers. “These are for you, Mrs. Turner! I picked them just for you!”

Mrs. Turner’s eyes twinkled with delight as she took the flowers. “Well, aren’t you just the sweetest thing?”

Wren leaned down, speaking in a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, Mrs. Turner, we’re going to the farmer’s market tomorrow. You can come if you want! There’ll be flowers, and cookies, and a lot of fun!”

Mrs. Turner chuckled softly. “I may be too old for all that running around, but I’ll be there in spirit, my dear.”

I watched the interaction from a distance, feeling that quiet warmth inside that comes from watching something so simple, yet so pure. Wells had wandered off and I was content to stay back, giving Wren and Mrs. Turner their time together.

“Why don’t the three of us head inside?” Mrs. Turner offered.

Wren and I exchanged a glance and followed her inside. For now, I was happy to watch the quiet moments unfold, knowing that these were the kinds of memories that made life truly rich.

ROCK AND A HARD PLACE

I leaned against the brick wall of the nursing home, watching the residents move about, each caught up in their own routines. It was one of those quiet afternoons when time seemed to slow, and your thoughts drifted like leaves on a stream, whether you wanted them to or not. I should’ve been inside with Wren and Mrs. Turner, but I found myself wandering off to the side, craving a moment of solitude.

I wasn’t used to this. Not used to having time to just think. To be still. But then there was Rose. Somehow, when she was around, everything felt different, more tangible, like she had a way of making the world seem more… real.

A soft voice pulled me from my thoughts.

“Wells, how’s it going?”

It was Marie, the head nurse, with her clipboard in hand. She had that warm smile of hers, the kind that made you feel like you could tell her anything, and she’d listen with the patience of someone who genuinely cared.

“Hey, Marie,” I said, straightening up from the wall. “It’s going well. How about you?”

She returned my smile, voice light and easy. “Doing pretty well.” Then she glanced out the window. “Who’s the blonde?”

At the mention of Rose, my throat tightened. I quickly cleared it, unsure of how much I wanted to say, or maybe how much I could say. “That’s Rose. She’s helping out on the farm.”

Marie raised an eyebrow. “So, not a girlfriend?”

I shook my head, a little too quickly. “No, not a girlfriend.”

Marie’s gaze flicked back to Rose, then back to me. “It’s nice you got some help. But she doesn’t exactly seem like she’s the farm type.”

“She’s getting the hang of it,” I replied, a little defensively.

The silence between us stretched, a quiet hum that felt like it held more than the words we were exchanging. I’d been doing a lot of thinking over the last couple of days, and Rose had somehow opened my eyes to things I hadn’t realized. Maybe it was time to let someone in. Maybe it was time for more than just me and Granger around the house.

“That’s cool,” Marie said, breaking the silence, but her voice carried that awkward undertone of someone unsure of how to fill the gap.