Page 89 of Meadowsweet and Marigold
"This is what I was talking about last night," she said as they paused to watch a family of deer picking their way delicately through the flowers, their movements poetry in motion. "New experiences that have nothing to do with performance or pressure. Just... joy for its own sake."
"Joy for its own sake," Meadow repeated thoughtfully. "I like that. It should be the goal, shouldn't it? Finding things that make us happy without any other purpose."
"It should be," she agreed. "But I think I forgot that somewhere along the way. Everything became about achievement, about being worthy of praise or recognition. I lost track of what it felt like to just enjoy something because it was beautiful or fun or meaningful to me."
"Well," he said, gesturing at the paradise surrounding them, "consider this practice. No critics here, no audience to impress. Just flowers and horses and whatever makes you smile."
The simple permission to exist without purpose beyond her own pleasure felt revolutionary. How long had it been since she'd done something purely because it brought her joy? Even her relationship with Rowan had become transactional in a way—her success reflecting well on his choices, her achievements validating his investment in her potential.
Here, with Meadow, there were no expectations beyond mutual enjoyment of the moment. It was liberating in a way that made her understand how constrained her previous life had been, how much energy she'd expended trying to be worthy of love rather than simply accepting it as freely given.
They rode in comfortable companionship for another hour, exploring different paths through the fields, stopping to admire particularly stunning combinations of colors or to watch wildlife moving through their natural habitat. Marigold felt her confidence growing with each mile, her balance improving, her communication with Daisy becoming more intuitive.
"I think I'm actually getting good at this," she said with surprise as she successfully guided her horse around a small obstacle without conscious thought.
"You're a natural," Meadow confirmed. "Some people fight the horse, try to impose their will through force. You work withher, listen to what she's telling you. That's much harder to teach than basic technique."
The compliment warmed her in a way that went beyond simple praise. To be recognized for qualities like intuition and partnership rather than just technical skill felt like validation of who she was as a person rather than what she could perform.
As the sun climbed higher and the morning grew warmer, they began the journey back toward the ranch, following a different route that would give Marigold new views of the property. The trail led them through a small copse of trees and then along a ridge that overlooked the valley below, the ranch buildings visible in the distance like a postcard of rural perfection.
"Thank you for this," she said as they descended toward more familiar territory. "For sharing something so beautiful, for trusting me enough to bring me here."
"Thank you for being someone worth sharing it with," he replied, and the sincerity in his voice made her chest tight with emotion.
As they approached the outskirts of town, following a trail that would eventually connect to the main road near the center of Willowbend, they spotted a familiar figure set up with professional equipment near a particularly picturesque barn. Cypress was clearly in the middle of a photo shoot, his camera focused on a young family posed against the weathered wood siding, the golden morning light creating exactly the kind of authentic rural scene his magazine assignment would require.
"Looks like Cypress is hard at work," Meadow observed, his tone carefully neutral as they drew closer to the scene.
Marigold watched the photographer direct his subjects with professional ease, adjusting positions and waiting for natural expressions, capturing the kind of candid moments that would tell the story of life in Willowbend. The family—parents andtwo young children—seemed relaxed and genuinely happy, their laughter carrying across the distance as Cypress worked to preserve their joy.
"He's good at what he does," she said, meaning it without reservation. Whatever personal history lay between them, his talent was undeniable.
They were perhaps fifty yards away when Cypress looked up from his viewfinder, spotting them as they rode past on the nearby trail. His expression shifted from professional concentration to something more complex—recognition, amusement, and perhaps a hint of challenge.
"Didn't think you'd still be riding with someone else's reins," he called out, his voice carrying clearly across the space between them. The comment was delivered with the tone of friendly teasing, but there was something underneath it that made the words feel weighted with implication.
Meadow didn't respond, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly as he guided Storm past the photo shoot without acknowledgment. The silence felt pointed, deliberate, though Marigold couldn't understand why such an innocuous comment would warrant such a response.
"What did he mean by that?" she asked quietly once they were out of earshot, confused by the tension she'd felt radiating from Meadow at Cypress's words.
"Nothing important," Meadow replied, though the muscle jumping in his jaw suggested otherwise. "He likes to tease, that's all. Old habits from when we were kids."
But the explanation felt incomplete, and Marigold found herself studying Meadow's profile as they continued toward the ranch. There had been something in Cypress's tone, some reference or shared understanding that she wasn't privy to. The phrase about riding with someone else's reins felt loaded withmeaning beyond the literal, though she couldn't decipher what that meaning might be.
"Are you sure?" she pressed gently. "It seemed like more than just teasing."
"I'm sure," Meadow said firmly, but the tension in his shoulders and the way he avoided her gaze suggested the topic was closed rather than resolved.
They completed the ride back to the ranch in relative quiet, the easy companionship of the morning shadowed by whatever undercurrent Cypress's comment had stirred up. Marigold found herself replaying the words, trying to understand what she'd missed, what context might explain Meadow's reaction.
As they reached the stables and began the process of cooling down and caring for their horses, she watched Meadow's movements, noting the slight stiffness that hadn't been there during their ride through the flower fields. His jaw remained tight, his responses to her questions abbreviated though not unfriendly.
"The ride was perfect," she said as they finished brushing down the horses, hoping to recapture some of the lightness they'd shared among the wildflowers. "Even Storm's dramatic interruption couldn't ruin it."
That earned her a genuine smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm glad you enjoyed it. We'll have to explore more of the trails soon."
"I'd like that," she said, meaning it completely. Despite the strange ending, the morning had been everything she'd hoped for—adventure and beauty and the kind of easy connection she'd never experienced with anyone else.
