At least Heather had been an expert at this part. Ivy’sbraids were always neatly done. She always dressed Ivy well and ensured she looked her best.
She looked up at me with that big, trusting stare and said, “Mama braids Ivy’s hair.”
I shut my eyes for a second, then forced them open again. “I know, Bug. But Mama’s not here, remember?”
Her lip trembled slightly. “Why?”
Jesus. That question could rip me in two. I reached out and tucked a curl behind her ear.
“Tell you what,” I said, voice low, steady, “we’re gonna find someone real good at braids, better than me. And when we do, I’ll take you to them, okay? Pinky swear.”
She lifted her tiny finger, and I wrapped mine around it like it was a sacred vow.
I managed to slick her hair back into a ponytail, then had her eat breakfast while I showered and got ready for the ranch. She made a mess, but seemed to have gotten most of it in her mouth. By the time we pulled up to Estelle’s, the sun was starting to warm the sky.
Ivy was more alert now, humming something tuneless under her breath, pressing her nose to the window as we passed Dough Re Mi, the bakery on Main. She loved going there, staring wide-eyed at the rows of colorful sweets, even if she never actually ate any of them. Said they were “too mushy” or “too yucky,” depending on the day.
Still, I always bought the same thing: a strawberry shortcake. Part habit, part excuse. Made me feel less like cluttering up their space just so my daughter could take in the smell of freshly baked goods, even though she didn’t want anything.
A few weeks ago, the owner, a silver-haired woman named Miss Loreen, had touched my arm and said gently, “You don’t need to buy anything, sweetheart. Just bring that baby in here anytime. She brightens up the place.”
I still bought the cake. I didn’t like feeling like I owed anyone, even kindness. But her words stuck with me, the softness of them curling in my chest in a way I wasn’t used to. This was the reason I’d made Bristlecone Springs home after losing everything.
Before I had a chance to knock, Estelle opened the door, her familiar figure framed in the warm scent of fabric softener. Her apron had a new tear across it, probably from her latest project. Ivy lit up the moment she saw her.
“Ess-elle!” she called.
“There’s my little helper,” Estelle said.
“She’s all yours.” I handed Ivy over with the tote bag and Tumbles tucked inside.
“We’re makin’ magic today.” Estelle winked at Ivy. “Gonna teach you how to sew buttons straight. Even the pink ones.”
“Sew?” Ivy asked, her voice small and sweet.
“That’s right. You’re gonna be a pro by the time Daddy comes back.”
I lingered, just for a beat. “Thanks, Estelle. I really appreciate this.”
But I would need a more permanent solution soon. Estelle couldn’t watch Ivy all day when she had to pay attention to her work as a seamstress. She would never complain, never make me feel like a burden, but I knew the arrangement wasn’t sustainable. I was pushing my luck.
“Don’t worry about it.” She set Ivy on her feet. “Hug Daddy good-bye, Ivy. We’ll see him later.”
Ivy wriggled out of Estelle’s arms and wrapped her arms around my legs, her lips trembling. “Daa-dee?—”
“I’ll be back soon, Bug,” I said quickly, crouching to hugher tight. She clung to my neck, soft sobs breaking free as her tiny body started to shake. “Hey, hey, c’mon now. You’re okay. You’re with Estelle, remember? You love it here.”
She wouldn’t let go.
Her tears soaked into my collar, and her little chest heaved against mine like her whole world was unraveling. And still, I didn’t let it show. Not the crack in my voice. Not the burn behind my eyes.
Estelle gently pried her from me with murmured reassurances. “We’ll be fine, sugarplum. Go on, Hudson. She’ll settle down in a minute once you’re not here.”
It took everything out of me, but I nodded, jaw tight, throat locked. “Thank you,” I managed, barely getting it out.
“Daddee!”
I made it out the door.
