Page 30 of Reuniting with the Rancher

Grey stood frozen for a minute then blinked. “I’ve got it all ready for you.” He turned and took off toward the hallway closet.

“He’s going to make it weird.”

“Yep,” Lily said, taking her daughter’s hand with one and sipping her tea with the other.

Grey rushed back into the room with two boxes.

“Your first period pack and your go bag,” he announced.

The first box was sizeable and Lily busted out laughing. “Um… how many pads did you buy?!”

“And when did you do all this?” Ivy said as she looked horrified.

“When you turned ten,” Grey said with a mild attitude. “You stay ready so you don’t have to get ready.” He started pulling everything out of the big box and the more he pulled out the more she fell in love with him.

The man had thought of everything. He pulled out a selection of pads, tampons, period panties in various sizes, menstrual cups and caps so that Ivy could find what she was most comfortable with, he bought a heating pad, a warm fuzzy blanket that looked like a burrito tortilla, comfy sweats and thick, fuzzy socks. There were teas and giftcards for local restaurants, pain medicine, a couple journals, pretty pens, face masks and little stuffed uterus with a frowny face on one side and happy face on the other.

It was phenomenal and by the time he was finished Lily and Ivy were both bawling.

“Thank you, Daddy,” she said as she hugged him tight.

Lily followed right behind her, “That was amazing, you’re amazing.”

Caleb wandered into the kitchen, took in the teary women and the various menstrual cycle matter and groaned.

“Oh no…did they sync up?” He shook his head, grabbed an apple, and beat a hasty retreat out the back door.

Lily saton the edge of her bed, the morning breeze filtering through the curtains giving her goosebumps. It had been six months since the surgery to repair her voice—a procedure that brought both hope and anxiety. She hadn’t spoken a word since the day she’d undergone the operation, choosing to communicate through American Sign Language or writing things down. Today she was going to find out if it worked.

As she wrapped her fingers around her belly, the realization of her pregnancy settled in—a beautiful sight that brought tears to her eyes. She felt a mixture of joy and fear; what if the surgery didn’t work? What if her child never heard her sing? What if she got her voice, but lost the baby? Her heartbeat sped up as anxiety coursed through her.

“Hey, Songbird,” Grey called softly, studying her like he always did.

“I’m scared,” she signed.

He knelt beside her. “I know,” he replied and signed back, his voice full of patience and understanding. “But you’re not alone in this. We’re in it together.”

Lily nodded, so grateful for him and their growing family in that moment, she allowed herself to hope.

“Wait here,” he said, standing up. He walked over to his phone, quickly pulling up old interviews of her singing andsharing her story. He connected it to a small speaker, a smile playing on his lips as he scrolled through the videos.

He placed the speaker gently against her belly. “This is still you,” he said, his tone serious but tender. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it through together.”

Lily felt the warmth of his hand against her skin, and the sound of her own voice filled the room. The familiar tune wrapped around her like a comforting blanket, easing her worries some.

As the last notes faded, Greyson leaned closer. “You’ll find your voice again. I believe in you. Plus, I threw six silver dollars into the fountain.”

She grinned a bit and signed a question, “What if I can’t?”

“Then we’ll sing for,” he responded, squeezing her hand reassuringly. “We’ll sing for you.”

Months later,Lily stood in the middle of a small club in Los Angeles, her heart racing as the spotlight illuminated her figure. She wore a simple black turtleneck, black miniskirt, and modified high heels.

Her leg would never be what it was, the human body was not meant to withstand the impact she experienced, but the fact that shecouldwalk was a miracle. She glanced down at her leg and smiled. It looked like a horror show, still. And her team…bless them. They were shocked she wouldn’t cover it. They had whole lookbooks with fantastic one-legged outfits and mockups of what Hollywood movie magic could do to make her ‘appear whole.’

“I’m already whole,” she told a room full of record execs and handlers at the meeting. She laid out how the rest of her life asLaLa Fair would go, her modified and scaled back tour schedule, etc. They were tepidly on board until she refused to ‘prove’ her voice was back. She didn’t have to prove shit.

So, she went with plan B, bought out her contract, and went live on social media before the ink was dry to announce herBooked and Boozy Tour.A stripped down, small club tour designed to connect with her fans more intimately. It was the Hen House on a Friday night, but international.

---