Page 103 of Finding Forgiveness
Two and a half years later …
Connor and I are playing tag team as we get the kids ready to go outside and feed the animals. I’m in charge of the winter coats, gloves, and scarves, while he puts little cowboy boots on their tiny feet.
I zip up Dakota’s coat and place a soft kiss on her cute little nose just as someone knocks on the front door.
When I open it, I find Mason standing on the other side. Emmy-Lou is riding on his back, sweet little Mia, the newest addition to our growing family, is strapped to his chest in a baby harness, and Blake is beside him. “Where’s Jaz?”
“She was up half the night with Mia, so she’s sleeping in. She’ll join us later.”
They stayed in one of Martha’s other cabins the week of our wedding and fell in love with this place as well. We try to come here at least once a month now. The kids love the animals.
“Emmy-Lou,” Blossom squeals when she joins my side.
Emmy-Lou’s face lights up as she wiggles on her father’s back until he helps her down. The girls instantly embrace. You’d swear they hadn’t seen each other in weeks instead of hours. They’re the best of friends. Jaz and I sometimes get emotional when we watch them together. They’re like tiny versions of us.
“Is Blake here?” Axil asks, rounding the girls and stepping out onto the front porch. Blake is twelve now and such a great kid. Axil is obsessed with him, and he doesn’t seem to mind having a five-year-old following him everywhere. “Hey, Blake.”
“Hey,” Blake replies, and Mason and I smile at each other when they fist pump.
“Is your bike here?”
“Yeah.” Blake points over his shoulder to the quadbike he got for Christmas. He would never be able to own something like that in the city. There’s nowhere for him to ride it, but on the farm, he’s got acres to explore, and he does. We are still living in the same apartment building, with no plans of moving anytime soon. The kids get the best of both worlds between here and there.
Axil turns to me and his praying hands are already clasped together in front of him. “Can I please go on the back of it, Mummy,” he begs. “Please, please, please.”
“It’s up to Blake. He may not want to double you around.”
Blake lifts one shoulder. “I don’t mind.”
“Yes,” Axil shouts, jumping up in the air.
“Go back inside and get your dad to put your helmet on, and those protective pads I bought you.”
“Ah, not the pads … only babies wear pads.”
“Pads or no bike … take your pick.”
He blows out a frustrated breath before stomping inside. “Okay, Mummy.”
Connor and I have talked about getting him one of his own, but I still feel like he’s a little young.Maybe next year. Jacinta teases me by calling me a bubble wrap mum, but I know what it feels like to lose a child, so I can’t help but be overprotective of the three I still have. They are my life.
I’m busy feeding my not-so-small surrogate babies—the piglets—which are just as big as their parents now, when I hear Blossom yell, “Grandma.”
Her and Emmy-Lou are sitting on the ground taking turns feeding the newly born kid, Scapegoat. I love that our children get to grow up experiencing country life.
Martha is beaming as she hobbles towards them. The kids adore her. She never had children of her own, and I know she gets a kick out of being called that. Apart from Grace, she’s the closest thing I have to a loving mother. She often takes all the kids—Jacinta’s included—for sleepovers in the main house, so the four of us parents can have a night out. They have so much fun with her, and she spoils them rotten.
“Mummy, look at me,” Dakota’s cute voice calls out.
I turn my head and glance out into the paddock as Connor leads her past. She’s sitting on the back of the miniature horse Martha bought the kids last year. She’s a white mare with a beautiful sweet nature. Her name is Brittany Spurs.
One of Dakota’s chubby little hands lets go of the rein to wave at me, and my heart drops into the pit of my stomach. “You need to hold on with both hands, Bubba,” I say, the fear evident in my voice. Since the twins struggled to pronounce her name when she was born, Bubba stuck.
Connor’s lips quirk as he moves to the side of the horse, placing his hand on the small of our daughter’s back. “Relax, Princess, I’ve got her.” He knows how anxious I get sometimes, especially when one of the kids is doing something that might hurt them, but he never makes fun of me for it. He just steps in and assures me they’re okay, doing whatever he can to de-escalate any anxiety I’m experiencing in that moment.
Last year when we took them to the Easter Show and they desperately wanted to go on the rides, Connor simply said,“Why don’t you and Jaz go for a walk and check out the pavilion … you can leave the kids with us.”
It was his gentle way of saying, let the kids be kids, I’ll look after them, and if you’re not here to see it, you won’t stress. I’d never want to put my insecurities onto their tiny shoulders, so I always follow his lead. No questions asked. He is like the calm to my storm, doing what is best for us all.
