Lavender needed to share her excitement with someone. Donning her boots, she braved the livestock barn, looking for Rose. She found her sister cleaning out the chicken coop. That same coop was home to some unpleasant memories courtesy of one far too protective rooster, and Lavender seriously considered turning back to the house. Her news was bubbling up inside her, and she wanted to share it with the sister she was closest to.
Rose was the youngest, and while Lavender was technically closer in age to Daisy and Andi, they had always been a team, with little room for their younger sister to tag along.
She skirted the wheelbarrow in the entrance and ducked into the dim space, her nose wrinkling from the acidic smell. Rose’s shovel scraped against the floor as she scooped the dirty straw. Lavender anticipated the action a moment before it happened and stepped to the side as a shovel-full of chicken droppings narrowly missed her and landed in the wheelbarrow.
Lavender’s eyes flew to Rose’s shocked face, her mouth wide with surprise and threatening a laugh.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Rose laughed, “Could have been worse. At least you moved.”
“Thankfully!”
“Well, the last thing I expect to see in the coop is you! What are you doing here? Does Mom need eggs? I thought Hawthorne took her some yesterday.”
“No, I came to find you.”
Rose glanced around the coop. “I’m almost done, give me three minutes.”
“I’ll just wait outside,” Lavender said with a laugh.
“Watch out for Severus. He’s feeling especially tough today.”
Lavender blanched and peeked out the door, looking for the proud rooster before walking toward the barn.
She walked through the east end of the barn to the stables. Most of the twelve stalls were empty right now, but Cappuccino poked his nose out when Lavender approached.
The soft skin of the horse’s nose pushed into her hand. “Hey there, sweet boy.” She moved her hand to his neck and patted the strong muscles there.
“I haven’t come to see you in a while, have I?” Cappuccino was her favorite horse. Growing up on the farm, taking part in farm activities was not exactly optional. So while Lavender would never voluntarily clean out the chicken coop, she learned to enjoy certain aspects of the farm—the horses being one of them. Rose loved all the animals, she had always gravitated to this corner of the property, naming sheep and bottle-feeding piglets. Poppy had planted herself in the fields, along with the corn, and never left. At least not until she married Harrison.
Lavender loved growing up on the farm. The freedom was unparalleled. Sometimes as a child, she thought living in a neighborhood where you could ride your bike to the neighbor’s house sounded better. But summer bonfires by the creek, baby chickens and kidding goats, or an apple straight off the tree on an autumn day? You couldn’t find those in a subdivision.
Even if Lavender wasn’t baling hay like Hawthorne or harvesting watermelons like Poppy, this farm was as much a part of her as it was them. Which is why she poured her heart and soul into making sure Bloom’s Farm didn’t become a forgotten relic of the past. Marketing techniques changed faster than the seasons, and she was always testing and trying and adjusting. As the farm had grown, being accessible online was increasingly important.
Marketing herself on the other hand? She’d never really done that with her blog. She had always felt herself somewhat secondary to the actual content she was posting. Maybe that was why this recent post had gained so much momentum. In it, Lavender had opened up more than ever before. It had over 200,000 views this week. Usually, she would have 10,000 in a week, maybe a few more on a popular post. But this? Cappuccino nickered softly. Lavender smiled and grabbed a sugar cube from the sack hung by the door. This article and video were making a real difference.
Footsteps grew closer, and then Rose stepped through the opening to the stables, wiping her hands on a classic red handkerchief. “I thought I might find you in here.” She nodded toward the light tan horse, “Capp is getting new shoes this morning. Glad you could keep him company while he waits for the farrier.”
Lavender gave him one last pat and turned to her sister. “I’ve got big news,” she announced excitedly.
Rose tucked the handkerchief in her back pocket and flipped a braid over her shoulder with a smile. “Well, do I have to guess?”
“After youth group last week, I was really thinking about what the speaker talked about. And I wrote a blog post about it. In six days, that post has reached about twenty times as many people as my posts usually do. It’s all over social media, and the comments are literally streaming in.”
Rose’s smile broadened, “I’m so happy for you, Lavender! I guess I need to read it!”
She looked down, suddenly hesitant again. But the entire article was about being proud of who you are and being the same person online and in person. She straightened to meet her sister’s eyes. “I would love you to read it.”
“So you are liking youth group?” They walked out of the stables and into the main portion with the livestock pens.
“Honestly, I love it. I didn’t think I would, but it’s really rewarding to talk with my girls and try to encourage them. Sometimes I feel like I don’t have the words to say, but somehow something intelligent comes out anyway.”
Rose laughed. “Yeah, God has a way of using our mouth when we give Him the chance.”
“Exactly. Some of these girls are going through tough stuff, though. It kind of makes me realize how lucky we were to have the family we had, you know?”
“Yeah, it’s hard to see them walking through their parents’ divorce when Mom and Dad were always such a strong team.”
“I miss Dad,” Lavender admitted. “I mean, I know he is still him and I’m so grateful he is still here with us. But I miss his loud laugh and his endless energy. I miss him coming into my room with a bowl of ice cream before bed.” He really had been the best dad. Somehow, he’d managed to stay afloat in the sea of estrogen in the Bloom household.
Rose stared into the stall, “I didn’t know he did that with you too. He’s doing so much better. I don’t know if he’ll ever really be the same as he was before the stroke, though,” Rose said sadly. “Have you told Mom and Dad about your post?”
Lavender shook her head. Rose stopped their stroll and turned toward her. “They’ll be really proud. You should tell them.” Rose was right, Lavender needed to share. Mom would want to celebrate, and probably e-mail it to the entirety of Minden Baptist Church.
“Thanks for the support, Rose. How are things for you? Do you need more help around here?”
Rose stepped her foot on the lowest bar of the metal fence and rested her forearms on the upper railing as they watched the goats. “I’m good. Hawthorne still comes to check on me every day, but I’ve got this under control. I had been trying to convince Dad for years before the stroke, but he wasn’t ready to let go of control, I guess.” Rose’s smiled was gone, her tone serious, and Lavender tried to console her.
“I’m sure it had nothing to do with you, Rose. It’s hard to hand off something you love, even to someone you trust. Look at Poppy—she’s practically babysitting Tate, even though she has a million other things to do.”
“It seems to be frustrating for him,” Rose commented.
“Exactly how would you know about Tate’s frustration levels?” Lavender raised her eyebrows and looked for any hint of red in Rose’s cheeks.
“We’re friends, Lavender. Don’t go getting any ideas. Speaking of frustrations, what’s the deal with you and Emmett?”
Lavender rolled her eyes. “Don’t remind me. His publisher hired me to coach him on social media, which is hard enough, because the man can’t stand anything about it. Plus, he’s got some sort of problem with the fact that I blog about fashion. I keep running into him at the library. It’s like I can’t escape.”
Rose scoffed. “That’s weird. Josh seems to like the guy, I figured he would be cool. He’s been around youth group for a few years.”
“He’s way too old for you,” Lavender laughed.
“He’s not that much older than me! But that’s beside the point, because he has that whole dark and brooding video gamer look. It doesn’t do much for me. I’m holding out for a cowboy. But I’m afraid they are hard to come by here in Indiana.”
“Well, before you answer some sort of crazy mail-order bride request and move to Montana, let me know. I can buy you some new clothes for the trip.”
“Ha ha,” Rose said dryly. “I’m not going anywhere. This farm is going to have a Bloom running it as long as I have anything to say about it.”
Lavender wrapped her arm around her sister’s shoulder. “You do a great job, Rose. Don’t put too much pressure on yourself.”
“I’m not. I just… This is why I went to school. This is what I’ve always wanted. And I feel like Dad never wanted to give me a chance to do more than help him. In some ways…” She shook her head. “I don’t mean this the way it sounds, but in some ways, his stroke gave me the opportunity I had been looking for to step up and take on more.” She buried her head in her hands. “I’m a terrible daughter.”
“No, you aren’t, Rose! Just because something good comes from something that is otherwise bad, doesn’t make the good thing any less good.” Lavender considered the impact the stroke had on all of them. Hawthorne had stepped up, and everyone had pitched in. There had been good in the midst of the trial.
“I guess. I just…” Rose tripped over her words and Lavender leaned forward to get a glimpse of Rose’s face. “Dad and I fought the morning of the stroke.” Rose’s words splashed over Lavender like icy well water fresh from the spigot.
“What?” Had she heard correctly? Rose was closer to their father than anyone. They spent so much time together before the stroke, it wasn’t surprising she’d been with him that morning. But, a fight?
“We fought. And it’s my fault he had the stroke.” The words came from Rose, full of anguish and hurt. Lavender pulled her into a hug. Her sister was carrying so much guilt, and Lavender hadn’t even noticed. Now, though, she felt the ache in her gut for her sister’s secret sorrow.
“Oh, Rosie. No, no. It’s not your fault. It’s no one’s fault. No matter what you said or thought, Dad’s stroke was nothing more than a blood clot that happened to stick at that moment.” Rose sobbed and Lavender rubbed her head. “Shhh, it’s okay.”
A few minutes later, when Rose’s tears had subsided, Lavender spoke again. “Have you talked to Mom about this? Or Dad even? He can talk enough now that you need to.” They would tell her the same thing Lavender had—there was no one to blame.
Rose shook her head. “I don’t even know if he remembers that morning. I’m afraid to ask.”
“Okay, I understand. Just,” she looked into her youngest sister’s tear-stained eyes, “don’t wait too long. You don’t have to let misplaced guilt eat you up.” Rose spoke truth into Lavender’s life, so often wise beyond her years. Lavender just hoped her sister would listen to her this time.