Yes, I’d already given Brad the most special gift, but he’d also given it to me.
I was the vibrant yellow tulip when Brad was with me. I needed to be the vibrant yellow tulip even when he was gone. For my son.
And I would be.
I walked back downstairs. Jonah was still napping on my mother’s lap. She rocked slowly in the recliner.
“You look good with him, Mom.”
She put a finger to her lips, urging me to speak softly. “He almost woke up a few minutes ago.”
I nodded.
“He’s so amazing, Daphne. I’d nearly forgotten what it felt like to love a child.”
Her words shocked me, and I widened my eyes.
“Oh, honey, I didn’t mean it like that. All I meant was that when a baby is small, like this, and completely dependent on you for everything, it’s a feeling like no other. Your baby has complete trust in you to see to his needs. It feels good to be needed, doesn’t it?”
“It does. And I still need you, Mom.”
“No, you don’t. You’re making an amazing life for yourself, and I couldn’t be happier.”
But I did need my mother. Her words scared me a little. She’d attempted suicide when she thought I was taken care of. She was doing well now and seemed so happy, but I couldn’t let her think I didn’t need her.
“That’s not true. I’ll always need you, and so will Jonah.”
She smiled. My mother was so pretty when she was happy. “I’m glad you feel that way, because I’m not going anywhere.” She stood and placed Jonah in his travel crib. “Come out back with me. I want to show you something.”
I followed her out onto the porch.
“Your father is going to build me a greenhouse,” she said.
“He is?”
“Yes. We’re converting half of the patio.” She gestured. “This half will be enclosed in glass. I was so happy when I spent time with Mazie in her greenhouse. This won’t be anything like hers, of course. It will be about a tenth of the size, but I want to have flowers all year round, Daphne.”
I smiled, warming inside as if my heart were the sun itself, casting rays throughout my body. This would be good for my mom. Good for me too, for that matter. I loved spending time in Mazie’s greenhouse at home, and having one here would be wonderful for when I visited. I wanted Jonah to grow up around all kinds of beautiful things. Flowers year-round were definitely a beautiful thing.
Our ranch was also beautiful. My son would grow up in the most beautiful place imaginable, learning skills from his father and learning love and beauty from me.
“This will be great for you, Mom. I’m so glad you’re progressing so well.”
“I won’t lie to you, Daphne. It hasn’t been easy.”
“Mom, if anyone knows that to be true, I do.”
“I know you do. Your father has been great. I try not to be too needy, but whatever I need, he gives me. The greenhouse was my idea. I was worried that we wouldn’t be able to afford such a remodel, but he told me not to worry about it. He’d find the money.”
“Mom, you know you never have to worry about money. I’m happy to—”
“No, Daphne. We would never ask you for money.”
“But I’m happy to help. You and Dad have done so much for me. I know I didn’t make your life easy that year. I want to help in any way I can. I want to make it up to you.”
“Honey, your dad and I would go to hell and back for you. You know that because you would go to hell and back for that sleeping baby inside.”
She wasn’t wrong. Still, I had the resources to make my parents lives’ easier. “Brad and I couldn’t spend our money in five lifetimes. What good is it if I can’t help the people I love?”
“Just take care of that baby. That’s all you need to do for your dad and me.”
“But—”
“Stop it.” My mother touched my cheek. “You’re a good girl to suggest it and to want to do it. But parents take care of their children, not the other way around.”
I didn’t agree. Children often took care of elderly parents. Of course, my parents were far from elderly, but I wouldn’t push the issue. My mom knew that if she ever needed anything, she could come to me.
“I decided to take Puppy home to the ranch.”
My mother smiled. “To be frank, I was surprised you didn’t take him to college.”
“I guess I wanted to pretend I was more grown up than I actually was.”
“Oh, honey, there’s no harm in having a sacred relic from your childhood to give you comfort. Why do you think I keep Nana’s old ratty afghan around?”
Nana was my great-grandmother, Mom’s grandmother. The afghan—crocheted in browns and greens that resembled vomit—had been the only thing my mother wanted when my great-grandmother died.