Total pages in book: 99
Estimated words: 94538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 94538 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 473(@200wpm)___ 378(@250wpm)___ 315(@300wpm)
I walked over to Ken, who had been in the process of helping bale and load trees. He looked up at me and smiled. “Can you believe this crowd?”
Glancing at the line of cars waiting to have their trees baled and loaded, I grinned. “I think we’re going to run out of trees by next weekend.”
He laughed. “I think you’re right. We have that reserve section; we could open it.”
I nodded, taking in the sight before me. Kids were running around, chasing the few snowflakes that were falling, and people were gathered around the firepit, making s’mores and drinking hot apple cider, all of them with delighted expressions on their faces. That’s what Wonderland Tree Farm was. A magical place that made people happy. I was positive I was the happiest of them all.
Damn, I love this job.
Turning back to Ken, I asked, “Have you seen Abby?”
“Last I saw, she was in the barn with Arabella. They’re hosting a wreath-making class.”
“Another one?” I asked with a disbelieving chuckle.
Ken nodded. “It appears to be even more popular than last year. Arabella is teaching the adults, while Abby’s doing one for the kids.”
I felt my heart swell with happiness. The last two weeks had been perfect with Abby. Every spare minute we were alone, we either talked or made love. It felt like my world had finally righted itself, and I was living in heavenly bliss.
We had discussed birth control but had decided to just let nature take its course. We both wanted kids, though when we talked about it, I could see in Abby’s eyes that she was still nervous. Not terrified, but nervous, which was expected. I was fucking nervous as well.
Hitting Ken on the arm, I said, “I’ll relieve you in a bit; I’m going to go peek in on that class.”
Ken rolled his eyes. “You have fun with that.”
When I walked into the barn, I took in the crowd of people. My mother was behind the cash register, informing someone of how to properly take care of their new Christmas tree. Next to her was a young girl Abby had hired to work in the store. Her name was Melinda and she had been a huge help. My mother adored her, and even though Mom and Dad technically came into town each weekend to help out on the farm, I knew they enjoyed catching up with their friends in Boggy Creek even more. Melinda being here afforded my mother more time to chat with folks she knew.
Mom caught my eye and smiled. I waved and she motioned with her head toward the right side of the store, where the room we used for classes and such was located. When schoolkids came to visit the farm, this was where we educated them on the process of planting and growing Christmas trees. When Abby wasn’t showing people how to make wreaths, she was hosting cranberry-and popcorn-stringing parties. Last Monday, she’d also arranged for a group of older women to use the room to knit stockings to donate to the children’s hospital in Boston.
I wasn’t even sure how she was doing so much on the tree farm, while also helping her folks on the flower farm, plus cleaning up the greenhouse for the Christmas Eve luncheon.
I headed over and leaned against the doorjamb to watch as Abby moved about between all the kiddos. It amazed me how effortlessly she’d blended right back in—not only in my life, but on the tree farm and at her folks’ place as well. The way she smiled while she helped one of the kids lay out their branches for the wreath made my chest tighten and warm.
My mind drifted back to two days ago, when we had met with Christina Nash. It was our first joint therapy session with her.
“Let me first start by saying, pregnancy loss is one of the most common experiences that no one—especially the mother and father—wants to speak about. I personally don’t like referring to it as a miscarriage. The meaning of the word already implicates something went wrong, and most mothers immediately think they were the cause of the loss.”
Abby stiffened, and I reached for her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
Christina turned to Abby. “Abby, I want you to tell me what your loss felt like.”
Taking in a deep breath, Abby slowly exhaled. “I remember…every time I woke up, it felt like it would hit me all over again, that I wasn’t carrying the baby. It felt like such a tremendous loss, and I was drowning in feelings of guilt and sadness. It was like they were competing with each other. I wasn’t sure how to tell Bishop my feelings because, at the time, they felt so overwhelming. I felt so crazy. Looking back, I honestly think I suffered some sort of mental breakdown. How could I have possibly felt like I was reliving the same day over and over again?”