Traci sat in the lounge chair next to the hospital bed. The scent of dozens of containers of flowers filled the room and brightened up the stark whiteness of it all. She’d brought her mother’s favorite quilt to cover the bed. Purple and green butterflies danced all over the white flowers on the quilt. That morning, she’d helped her change into pink silk pajamas.

“All this fuss,” Michelle said weakly, smiling around the nasal cannula. “I don’t like all this fuss, and I don’t need it.”

“Sure, you do. You do better with fuss.” Traci settled more comfortably in the chair. Sheriff Hughes had let her take a week of her annual leave, and she had three days left. What she’d do when that time was up, she had no idea. “Can I bring you anything else from the house?”

“My binder. You know the one.”

She knew. Her mom’s wedding binder. “You know I’m not—”

Michelle held up a hand to stop her. “It isn’t about you. It’s filled with thoughts and ideas I’ve had since I was five years old. It’s what gave me the desire to open my company. It brings me comfort. I just want to look through it while I have time on my hands.”

Pushing back the defensiveness, Traci said, “Sure. I’ll get it. Anything else?”

Her mom put a hand up against her head. “My shampoo. I don’t like the one they have here, and I want to wash my hair.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She stood, thankful to have a mission. She walked over to the bed and tapped the phone she’d plugged in and left sitting on the table next to her. “If you need me, call me.”

She shut the door behind her and stopped in the hall, leaning against the wall. She closed her eyes and took a deep, flower-free, cleansing breath. While thankful that her mother had moved out of ICU yesterday, once they got into a standard room the flowers had started arriving.

She forced herself to show patience at her mom’s need to be surrounded by flowers and pink things. She couldn’t imagine any of it would make her better. She honestly felt that if she had to lay in a room filled with flowers and pink satin all day, she would go insane. It fit her mom, her personality, and it all somehow made her happy. Determined to grasp some of that same happiness, Traci put on the mask and tried to ignore all the pink and the smell of the flowers.

On her way down the hall, she came to a sudden stop when she saw Donald Ramsey walking toward her. They had the same blue eyes, the same straight blond hair, the same pointy chin—which she lifted in defiance. “What are you doing here?” She demanded, adding in a sarcastic tone, “Dad.”

He held up a bouquet of daisies. “Hey, Traci-girl. I just came to say hi to your mom. I heard she wasn’t feeling well.”

She pointed back the way he had come. “You may not see her. You leave. The last thing she needs is the stress your existence brings her.”

An incredulous look crossed his face. “My existence? My existence brought you into this world, young lady. Maybe you need to think about that.”

She snorted and crossed her arms. “It may have taken you to make me, but she did everything else on her own. You and I both know that. Fifteen years ago, we would have both welcomed you with open arms. But right now, she’s dying. And I don’t want you here because she’ll feel upset, or ugly, or not good enough, because that’s what you do to her.” She spoke with impassioned authority, then pointed down the hall again, using her command voice. “Go, and don’t come back. If you want to see her later, you can call her and give her a chance to get ready to see you.”

It shouldn’t have surprised her when he turned and left, but it did on a small scale. Why in the world would he even come? “Ugh!” she said, gripping the sides of her head in frustration.

When she looked up, she realized Pastor Ryan Olson was standing next to her and had witnessed her emotional outburst. She blushed. He’d been a couple years ahead of her in school, but she remembered him as the student council president his senior year. He’d left town to attend seminary at Asbury near Lexington. When he came back, he’d started his own church a couple of miles outside of the downtown area, and in a few years, had grown it into a thriving part of the community. Her mother had planned a few of Ryan’s birthdays and high school and college graduation parties. Traci, therefore, knew Travis’ family went there instead of the church in which he grew up.

“Hey, Traci. How’s things today?”

“Hi, Ryan.” She pointed at the door behind her. “She’s feeling okay, but still weak. My father just tried to visit her.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I saw that.” He cleared his throat. “Why would you send him away?”

With a shrug, she said, “She feels not good enough around him. Right now, she doesn’t have her usual shield of appearance defenses up. Just being in the room would make her self-conscious. I’d rather she had time to prepare before he sees her.”

“I’m sorry that’s how she feels.”

“It’s always been like that. He replaced her with another woman and me with another child. It wasn’t like he wanted to keep us in his life. He wanted them. He wanted us completely gone. It was hard for me, but I imagine it was horrible for her.” She straightened and slipped her hands into her jeans. “I have to run to her house and grab a couple things. Are you going in to visit?”

He looked at the door then back at her. “Only if you think she’d want me to.”

“I know she’d love it. Maybe you could pray with her while you’re at it? She’s taken a lot of information in during the last few days that would overwhelm even a saint.”

“I’ll go have a little visit with her.” He put a hand on her shoulder. “You’ve taken a lot in, too. You know where to find me.”

With a closed-lipped smile, she started walking down the hallway, turning to walk backward and face him. “I’ll find you if I need to.”

It felt good to walk out into the sunshine. Traci took her time walking to her car, letting the spring air fill her lungs. She lifted her face to the sky and said a silent prayer of thanksgiving for Ryan showing up when he did, for her courage in facing down her father, and for patience in dealing with her mother’s convalescence.

She drove to her mom’s house and used her key to go in. She went upstairs and into the master bathroom, stopping short just inside the doorway. She didn’t think she’d entered this room since she was maybe thirteen. A large bay tub sat under a skylight. Flowering plants hung from hooks giving it a rain forest feel. Next to the tub stood a glass-walled walk-in shower where she found the shampoo. She went ahead and grabbed the conditioner, too.

In case they needed it, she pulled another pair of pajamas out of the dresser drawer, then went downstairs to her mom’s office. The wedding book sat on top of her desk. She scooped it up, surprised a little at its weight.

Everything else appeared in order. She’d have to remember to ask her mom when the cleaning team typically came. For the life of her, that little detail had escaped her mind and wouldn’t come back.

After she locked up her mom’s house and deposited the items in her car, she went ahead and went upstairs to her own apartment. Her eyes glanced over the chairs on the porch, and she thought back to the conversation she and Travis had the night Bubba Crawford had taken his own life. Had Travis come over intent on delivering an ultimatum, or had she overthought it in the midst of her emotional storm?

One thing she knew, having him by her side at the hospital and the following days made her realize how much she had grown to depend on him; how much she longed for a life with him. Three years ago, she would have laughed anyone out of the room who would have told her she’d depend on a man for the strength to get through anything. She’d certainly depended on Travis, and he’d come through for her.

She pulled her phone out of her pocket and dialed his number. He answered on the second ring. “Hey,” Traci greeted warmly, “can I come by the school real quick?”

“Sure.”

“Okay. Give me a few minutes.”

“See you then.”

In her bedroom, she opened her top dresser drawer and found the box with the ring Travis had given her. She opened it, looked at it, then slipped it onto her finger. It felt right. It felt good.

Smiling, she grabbed an apple out of the bowl on the kitchen bar and rushed out of the apartment and down the stairs. She drove to Travis’ school and parked in the loading zone near the front door. He met her outside.

“How’s Michelle today?”

“Weak. I hope they let her go home instead of keeping her in the hospital. I think she would do way better around all her stuff.”

“I guess the tests they run this week will tell them that.” He put a hand on her elbow and leaned in to give her a soft kiss. Over the last several days, his kisses had been cooler, less intimate, as if more out of habit or obligation. This one, though, she tried to intentionally heat up. She loved him. She loved him with all her heart, and she wanted to be his. Without saying the words, she tried to let her lips express her thoughts. Her arms slipped around his neck, and she stepped as close to him as her uniform would allow. When he started to deepen the kiss, she ran her hands over his face and breathed deeply through her nose, relishing in the feel of him and the smell of him.

He framed her face with his hands and slowed the kiss down, gentled it until it became barely more than an exchange of breaths. She covered his hands with hers and gave him one more kiss before pulling her head back. As they parted, he picked up her left hand. “What’s this?”

Feeling heat flood her face, she cleared her throat and kept eye contact with him. “I realized the last few days how right it felt to lean on you. If that’s what marriage will be like, then I’m in.”

The smile that covered his face seemed lit from inside him. “Oh, yeah?”

Traci nodded. “I’m all in. A hundred percent.”

“All it took is your mother collapsing outside of my school? Good thing she didn’t know that or she would have conspired against you years ago.”

The laughter that bubbled out of her chest felt fantastic. She realized she hadn’t laughed for days. “You’re right.” Framing his face with both hands, enjoying the familiar feel of his beard, she said, “I’m sorry I was a brat. I love you. Please forgive me.”

“Of course, I forgive you.” After a long, sweet kiss, she pulled away. “I have to go back to the hospital. Mama wants to wash her hair.” She walked back to her car. “I’ll see you later. We’ll have to talk about the how and the when because I’ve just used a full week of vacation and don’t know what I have left.”

He smiled and lifted his hand to wave. “It’ll work out.”

Travis Seaver stood inside the doorway of the hospital room and stared at Traci sleeping in the chair next to her mother’s bed. He’d never had a chance to observe her in sleep before. Her face softened, and the aggressive demeanor vanished. She looked feminine, vulnerable, and very, very kissable. She had a big binder in her lap, open to a magazine cutout of a table setting.

His eyes shifted to Michelle, who slept. He barely recognized her without her makeup on and knew from things that Traci had said that she felt naked and exposed without it. He hoped the doctors would allow her to put it on again soon.

He stopped next to Traci and put a hand on her shoulder before grabbing the other chair in the room and pulling it toward her. Instead of startling awake, she kind of slowly, gradually came to, stretching and yawning, then finally straightening up all the way. She rubbed her face and smiled up at him. He bent for a kiss just because he couldn’t help it.

“Hi,” she said with a smile. “How was class?”

“Good. New family moved to town, and all five of them started in the six o’clock class. They’re all varying degrees of skill, so it was interesting.” He tapped the binder. “What’s this?”

Traci smiled and shut the cover. “It’s mom’s wedding book. It’s what she wanted to get that night we told her we were getting married. She has been obsessed with planning her own wedding since she could draw a picture.” She opened the front cover, and he saw a child’s drawing of a dress covered in butterflies. “Since she got pregnant with me in high school and didn’t ever get married, she never had her dream wedding.” She shook her head. “It’s all in here. Dress, decorations, flowers. It’s morphed over time. The amount of love and care she put into it is kind of incredible.”

He looked around the room, at the baskets and vases of flowers, at the pink bed covering and purple satin pajamas. “I’m surprised you haven’t run out of here screaming by now.”

“What?” She looked around, too, and smiled. “It’s amazing what a kick in the butt will do to your perspective.” She tapped the binder again. “I’m actually, seriously, considering this.”

With a raised eyebrow, he lowered himself to the chair. “This? What this?”

“Her wedding. Her dream wedding.”

He took a second as her words processed through his brain. “You’re actually thinking of us having a wedding? Like, dress, flowers, banquet meal? That’s a fairly serious paradigm shift.” With his hand against her forehead, he frowned. “No fever. Stick out your tongue.”

She did, but in a bratty girl way with her nose wrinkled. It made him want to kiss her again. “You’re very pretty,” she said in the most uncomplimentary voice possible.

With a nod, he said, “Lucky for you.”

“She only has a couple months left to live. I’ve been sitting here for days, thinking about how horribly I’ve treated her most of my life. She’s had symptoms for years, and I never noticed. You know why? Because I didn’t care.” She pressed her fists against her eyes. “Then, when she is about to be taken away from me, I realize just how important she is to me. It’s so unfair.”

“Traci…,” his voice trailed off because he honestly didn’t know what to say to make her feel better. “What can I do?”

With a shaky laugh, she tapped the top of the binder. “Help me with this. God knows I’ll need the help. I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing or how to do it. But it has to be done quickly, and I can’t ask her to do it.”

“Looks like she’s already done it. All we have to do is implement it.” He reached over and opened the binder to a random page. He stared at the magazine cutout of a woman wearing a white wedding dress with a butterfly on her choker. “You’re going to wear something like this?”

She didn’t look at the picture. She looked at her mom, sleeping in the hospital bed. “I’ll wear whatever she wants me to wear.”

His mind whirling, he reached over and took her hand. “You don’t have to do this. If you just had a wedding that she helped you plan, that would be enough.”

“This is honestly what I want to do. Imagine how thrilled she’ll be.”

Reaching over, he flipped a few more pages and noticed the theme. “Butterflies, huh?” With a chuckle, he nudged her shoulder. “Going to be like coming out of a cocoon to your new and beautiful self?”

“Did you just call me a caterpillar?”

“A cute caterpillar.”

When she turned her head and glared at him, he saw a spark of his Traci and quit worrying about her. “Don’t press your luck, babe.”