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Poor sap.
We harness the dogs and Byron follows me out to my vehicle, un-offended by my lame exit. The roles have been reversed and his grumpy ass has ditched me on several occasions.
I stand there for a second, searching for a way to say thank you for putting up with me and for all the effort he’s put in with Tallulah. In the end, I say just that and we shake.
It feels a little like the goodbye we gave one another after our last deployment when we’d spent a year knocking each other down a peg with stupid wisecracks and building each other up when the outlook was bleak.
“One o’clock Saturday,” he reminds me we have a check-in scheduled and need to be back at the barn. “If there’re any issues call.”
I hide my grin. “There won’t be. I’ll see you next week. Now that we’re done the hard work, I may bring beer.”
“You do that,” Byron claps me on the back, “and reporting in on your progress may become an every weekend thing.”
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4
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“Oh! You’re home!” I gush, tossing the rag to the side that I’ve been using to wipe the kitchen counter off with, and dashing to the front door.
Trig’s just come in with Tallulah. Today is so important for my husband and I want him to know that if this dog is going to help his anxiety and the depression he deals with after a nightmare, then she’s a welcome addition.
At this point, she may be the only new member of our family.
Tail wagging, Tallulah strains on her short tether. She gives Trig puppy dog eyes to be let off-leash and play.
“Sit,” he tells her, and her butt plops down on command. The tail keeps jiggling. It melts my overly hormonal heart.
I kneel down and stroke Talulah’s head. Her floppy ears are like silk. I bring my palm under her soft chin, admiring her silky, brindled coat. “You’ve grown so much. Yes, you have.” I baby-talk to her.
Tallulah licks her chops, her tongue a fraction of an inch from sliding against my cheek. It’s adorable, and admirable how she’s holding back. Byron has done an impeccable job with her. I thought we were getting a random puppy to housebreak. Come to find out he’s provided us with as close to a full-fledged service dog as we could ever find.
I’m actually glad Aidy brought up at Baked Beans the fact that Tallulah was joining us today. With so many thoughts running through my head, I’d kept her mostly a secret. The mill girls aren’t dumb, I’ve never hidden that Trig and I haven’t been preventing since I gave birth to O. Yet I also haven’t told any of them how hard we’re struggling to have a second baby. Risking sharing our excitement about Tallulah seemed a good way to have that backfire on us too.
As soon as Aidy let the cat out of the bag, the girls were peppering me with twenty questions. Their elation had mine bubbling to the surface. Since I got home with Owen, I’ve washed Tallulah’s bowls and made sure she has fresh water, arranged her dog beds both upstairs and down, and taken the tags off of the toys we bought for her.
Trig cocks his chin, his eyes narrow at me dancing with mirth. “Glad the dog is figuring out the pecking order around here, My Love.” My jovial husband interrupts.
I stop fawning over the bundle of fur and stand, pressing my lips to his. “Welcome home to you too, handsome.”
“Thanks.” He snags my chin between his thumb and forefinger, kissing me a second time for good measure. I cup his cheek, caressing the trimmed hair of the beard he’s growing back out after a short-stint clean-shaven. I liked our son’s reaction to seeing Trig’s face for the first time. But I missed this Trig too.
I miss the years when I used to lie in his arms in his room when we lived at the mill and believed our problems had any significance. The reality is those were our golden years—after Trig was out of the military and I’d kicked my addictions—and the only bad things that were happening to us were hardships we brought on ourselves. Now misery arrives uninvited at our doorstep.
Awake or asleep, I feel the way Trig’s body tenses as he jerks during the night. And I worry I add to the agony he’s dealing with because of my own despair. I’m not getting any younger and we’re running out of time trying to have another baby.
In my darkest moments, I wonder if the saying is true that you should be careful what you wish for. All I wanted for nearly twenty years was another chance. A real opportunity to be a mom. To watch my baby grow and thrive the way I’d lost out on with Aidy. Safe, and warm, and loved by her parents, it was still a feeling that haunted me while my daughter grew up before my eyes in snapshots Ghillie and Don sent to me. I hadn’t realized until I saw Trig holding a tiny blue bundle that we’d made together in his massive arms how overwhelming the sensation would be to have more children.
I frown and Trig pretends not to notice, kissing the furrow in my brow. He’s aware of where my mind has gone. These conversations stay in our bedroom, behind closed doors.
“Where’s O?” he asks, unsnapping Tallulah so she can sniff and roam.
“Outside on the swings with Morgan. He found all the squeaky toys and was laying in the dog bed pretending. The noise was a little much and something I thought maybe we needed to nip in the bud before he was playing tug of war with his teeth and lost a tooth on a rope.”
“Good call.” My husband’s chest rumbles. His hand encircles my waist and I pop his favorite knit cap off his head. Static crackles, standing his hair on edge.
“How was your game this morning?”
