Chapter 7: The Day She Forgot to Be Afraid
1259 Words
Monday mornings at the bakery started like clockwork.
The ovens were preheated before dawn.
Proofing baskets lined the counters with overnight dough.
And the smell of cinnamon, butter, and fresh coffee filled the air.
Becca loved those few early morning hours before the hustle of customers shuffling through the aisles.
She found comfort in routine.
Today, she tied on her apron, pushed a loose curl behind her ear, and slid a tray of blueberry muffins into the glass display case.
Linda glanced up from the espresso machine.
“You look well-rested.”
“I am.” She smiled.
“That’s new.”
Becca chuckled. “Must be all the sleep I’ve been getting.”
“No nightmares?” Linda asked knowingly.
Becca paused. She hadn’t realized she’d even considered sleeping until that moment.
“No.” She shook her head.
“See?” Linda nodded.
“That’s a good sign.”
An Unexpected Delivery
Around ten o’clock that morning, a florist stepped into the bakery. In her arms, she carried a simple bouquet.
Not roses.
Not elaborate.
Wildflowers.
Sunflowers. Daisies. Even a few sprigs of lavender.
“A delivery for Becca.”
She scanned the room, slightly confused. “For me?”
The florist smiled.
“That’s what the card says.”
Linda dropped the cupcakes she’d been frosting.
“Oh no, we aren’t reading this.”
“We most certainly are.”
“Oh yes, you are.” She grabbed the flowers from the startled florist.
Inside Craig’s familiar penmanship were three short words.
Though these would brighten your kitchen.
– Craig
No “I love you.” No famous quote to try to wow her. No grand romantic gesture.
Just something he knew she’d like.
Becca raised the flowers to her nose.
Lavender. Of course, he remembered she loved lavender.
“Oh, my God.” Linda hugged her from behind.
Becca laughed and leaned into her friend. “Thank you.”
Linda pulled away. “You’re welcome.”
“What?” Becca chuckled.
“You deserve flowers.” Linda winked.
“And thanks to my detective work, we know they’re from Craig.”
Becca smiled softly. “Just flowers.”
Craig’s Perspective
That night, Craig arrived bearing a toolbox.
“I think today is nesting-box day.”
The youngest piped up. “The chickens are getting BEDROOMS!”
Craig chuckled. “I suppose they are.”
They spent the evening working in comfortable silence. Becca explained the phone call to her daughter earlier that day.
“I have a meeting with the guidance counselor tomorrow.”
He finished tightening a hinge before looking up at her.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s just about college.”
He smiled. “That’s exciting.”
“I think she’s nervous.” She shrugged.
Kids are usually lucky if they know what they want to do by graduation. “They probably are.”
Becca nodded. “So am I.”
He leaned back against the side of the coop. “Can I tell you something?”
Becca smiled. “Of course.”
“I’ve watched you, parent.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You have?”
“All the time.” He winked.
“You know what I’ve noticed?”
“What?”
“You never tell them they have to be perfect.”
Her eyebrows furrowed together. “What do you mean?”
“You don’t.”
“You don’t?!?” She echoed.
“No.” He chuckled. “You tell them they’ll figure it out.”
Becca thought about it. On cue, it clicked.
“You’re right.” She nodded.
“You should talk to yourself the same way.”
She laughed quietly. “That’s easier said than ever.”
“Maybe.” He smiled. “But you deserve the same kindness you give them.”
Dinner on the Porch
The family ate dinner outside that night. Grilled chicken and corn cooked on the grill while fireflies began to flicker through their yard.
The youngest danced excitedly.
“I caught one!”
Craig leaned towards him, dramatically. “Did you ask permission?”
He giggled as Craig punched his Play-Doh chicken pillow. “I don’t think bugs have rules.”
“They most certainly do.” Craig winked.
“They do?” Little B yelled, cutting into his chicken.
“You know ‘rule’ number one.” Craig dipped his voice so his son could whisper.
Fireflies must blink at least fifty times before bed.
His son’s eyes grew wide.
“They’re going to be SO tired.”
Craig laughed. “They sure are.”
“A hard life.”
Dad and son laughed together as the rest of the family joined in.
Becca watched Craig across the table.
She noticed how he always made space for everyone else to shine.
How he listened more than he talked.
He made each of their children feel like what they said was important.
She didn’t realize she’d been staring until he met her eyes.
“What?” He asked softly.
“I was just…” She gestured around the table.
“Enjoying,” Craig replied.
“Watching us.” She finished for him.
“Hopefully, my good side.” He joked.
She raised an eyebrow. “You have a good side?”
Craig placed a hand over his heart. “How dare you?”
“Oh yeah, sorry.” The oldest chimed in.
Craig laughed again. “Your mom has a great sense of humor.”
“I think so too,” He agreed.
Warmth crept into Becca’s cheeks as she realized they were all smiling at her.
Craig’s arm slammed down on the table, interrupting her thoughts.
THE REALIZATION
Later that night, once everyone had gone inside, Becca quietly walked out to the chicken coop by herself.
She spent some time sitting on the steps and admiring it in near silence.
It was almost complete.
Only paint and a few minor details remained.
Running her hand along the smooth wood of the door, she realized something.
She hadn’t checked her phone all evening to see if he was mad at her.
She hadn’t worried about what he was thinking whenever he said something cheesy like that last comment.
She hadn’t feared saying the wrong thing.
She had simply lived.
And it hit her how strange that feeling was.
For as long as she’d been remarried, Becca did some form of emotional triage each day.
Usually, before she even opened her eyes.
Is everything okay?
Did I say something to upset him?
Should I apologize?
Do I need to double-check?
She hadn’t realized how much she did this…
Until she wasn’t.
Fearlessly pouring every ounce of herself into loving these kids – and her husband – she forgot to be afraid.
She smiled at the quiet yard behind her.
He left long ago and stopped dominating her thoughts and questions.
Instead, it felt like she had moved on.
Because while she may never forget her divorce…
She forgot to let it hurt that night.
And that was enough.
The sun had dipped below the horizon as Becca rose from the chicken coop.
Home wasn’t perfect.
It didn’t feel finished like the coop.
But it was strong.
Built with persistent hands and steady love.
And just like that, little Coop standing next to her, Becca knew in her heart that it would last.
For better or worse.
She knew it could.
Because Craig Harding was the father of her children.
And he was teaching her how to live again.
- Writer
