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Trista was finishing up with Belle and headed out with a much lighter step this morning. After the last three sessions of talking about Treena, she was getting to a stable place in her therapy. She was excited about Belle’s idea to write again. This had been a lifelong passion of hers, but something she hadn’t undertaken in years. Max had allowed her a portion of the ranch proceeds and the use of the guest house for the chores she helped with on the family ranch. He insisted that the ranch was half hers per their father’s wishes. It was so generous considering she had done nothing over the years to deserve it, but she was working now to make up for it. With that responsibility, finding a job away from the ranch wasn’t necessary. This allocated some considerable time, in which she might write the novel she had always wanted to do. Additionally, Living River was a great inspiration and had her mind awash with so many ideas.
So deep in thought was she that she ran into Hunter entering the therapy center.
“Hey,” she said as she glanced up at him, realizing who she had nearly run over.
“Hey, back at you,” he said, shifting the tiny child he held.
Trista looked at him, curiously, “didn’t know you had a child?”
“This is Daisy,” he said to the tiny girl. “She’s a new patient here, and I’m just helping until a more permanent foster situation for her can be found.”
“She’s so small,” Trista said, reaching out to extend a hand to Daisy, who immediately bobbled back and buried her head in Hunter’s shoulder.
“If you have time for a coffee at the B&B, once I drop her with Belle, I would love to chat,” he said with a heavy expression that caught Trista off guard.
“I’ll head that way and chat with Marissa until you get there,” she said, worried about why he looked so tired and stressed.
He nodded and continued past her, as she turned to watch him enter the same door she had just exited. After a moment, she headed toward the B&B. Marissa and Ruth were big favorites of her mother, Naomi’s, to come over and “visit” with a couple of times a week. The women spent a great amount of time gossiping, but they all seemed to enjoy each other’s company. Avery and Emily also worked here, and they had been part of several outings Trista had joined recently. Everyone knew everyone, and she found that part of the draw of Little Bend and Living River Ranch, versus how she would have felt just a year ago. This was the phase of finally settling in that previously had caused her to run.
As she walked into the B&B, the wonderful smells of fresh-baked goods and coffee assailed her nose. It was heavenly.
“Trista, what a pleasure,” Marissa said, coming forward, arms extended.
Trista wrapped her arms around Marissa’s shoulders in a hug. When they finally separated, she interjected, “Hunter will be joining me for coffee if you have a table available?”
Marissa gave her a knowing smile. “We have one out on the patio area that is divine with this cooler weather today.”
“Perfect,” Trista said, starting to follow her and seating herself at the tiny table.
“How is your mom?”
“Excellent. She is thriving on the ranch and loves spending time with the animals and her knitting.”
“She joined the quilting group as well.”
“Fabulous. I’m sure she will be down to visit soon.”
“For sure,” Marissa said as she turned toward the doorbell that had just announced a new arrival. “I see your date is here,” she said, waving Hunter over.
Trista just shook her head.
“Morning,” Hunter greeted Marissa.
“Morning. I will have coffee, and we have blueberry muffins or orange cranberry scones.”
“I will take a muffin,” Hunter said.
“Same for me,” Trista answered as Marissa turned back to her.
With a quick bob, Marissa was off.
“Thank you for staying behind,” Hunter said, releasing a heavy sigh.
“No worries. What is up with Daisy?”
Hunter bowed his head and launched into the details of the night they found her. Trista felt the dread, anger, and sympathy through every cell of her body. When he finished, she couldn’t help but reach out and squeeze his hand.
“I can’t imagine what that was like, for you or that poor baby girl,” she said with horror.
“She’s seven they believe, but the size of a three-year-old. Someone took care of her at some point because she can talk and take care of herself. The bio parents haven’t been located though, as I’m sure they are on the run, knowing Daisy would be found after they left her,” he finished with an exhalation of breath.
“I hope they catch them and throw them in a dark cell of their own,” Trista answered vehemently.
“Agreed, but my main concern is Daisy now. I immediately knew I needed to get her here, to Living River, and in therapy. As they didn’t have a home available, I was appointed her temporary foster parent and got permission from Judge Harrison to start her out here immediately. Margaret was gracious enough to extend any service needed free of charge.”
Trista felt those words deep in her heart, “Living River is bigger than life. I can’t believe how many people they help every day. I can’t imagine a better place for Daisy to heal.”
“I know you have been seeing Belle from the conversation the other night,” he whispered. “How has that been progressing without giving me too many ugly details?”
She nodded, “I’ve been talking about my sister Treena to her,” she said over the slight frog in her throat. “I haven’t spoken to anyone about her in over a decade.”
“Wow! Well, when you are ready, I’m a pretty good listener. I bet she was amazing.”
“She was,” Trista said. “Someday, I will tell you all about her, I promise.”
“I will hold you to it,” Hunter grinned at her as Marissa interupted to put coffee mugs on the table. Muffins followed, and then she scuttled away again as quickly as her expansive frame allowed.
“I decided to write a novel about Living River,” Trista interjected. “I thought I might go speak with Margaret about the possibilities this morning.”
“Excellent,” Hunter said enthusiastically. “I didn’t know you write. That is an amazing thought, though, so many extraordinary stories to tell, and if you changed names, I bet it could be so inspirational.”
“Belle gave me the idea. The writing of stories was always an outlet for me, and one of my big bucket list items.”
“Well, if you need a collaborator to read snippets, get you coffee or anything else; I’m there,” he said, picking up his mug for a swig.
“I’ll remember that,” Trista said with a slight chuckle.
They sat for a lengthy moment deep in thought, staring out at the ranch. It was one of those perfect moments. You just needed to close your eyes to take it in, Trista thought, drawing a prolonged inhalation of breath.
