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The Craziness of Love

Life is hard - but it is still good

By Angie AllanbyPublished 3 years ago Updated 3 years ago 6 min read
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Photo by Unsplash

Trent held Izzy close. The spring air nipped, and he tightened the circle of his arms around her shoulders.

They stood on their new balcony overlooking the valley, the lake far below.

Izzy limply held the fabric dog her dad had given her as a first gift for the baby that they would never meet. Doc Drake had been so great through it all, assuring them there would be others - she was young and healthy afterall, and presented no indications that this would happen again. And yet their tiny Jake was born - perfect, still and lifeless - at seven months of pregnancy.

Nothing touched the huge emptiness of Izzy’s arms. Nothing could answer the helpless rage of Trent. Not even each other. This was the most alone each of them had ever felt.

So they held each other, untouchable in their grief, everything a void around them. Izzy closed her eyes, blocking out the aching beauty of the rolling valley, and did her very best to find some gratitude deep inside.

The cabin she had so loved building…? Now with an empty cot.

Her husband still new - in three months they will be married for a whole year! How much she loved him, how much she dreamed of impossibility within her grasp when she was with him…?

Nothing. Only empty void. She clutched at fragments of memories that used to light her up, the love that had been showered upon them. Even now, when she was home and well, friends dropped dinner every day - checking in, willing her to grow strong again, concerned.

This all felt miles away, as if she was viewing her life through a telescope. She knew that Trent was beside himself - concern for her, and the devastating loss of their son, whom he had already mapped out a whole blueprint of fatherhood for. Trent - who had never known a dad except her own. And yet he harnessed all that he felt a child needs, and wrote his own rules.

He would have been the best dad ever.

Tears pricked. He must have felt them, because he bent and kissed the top of her head.

“The trucks will be here soon. Let’s go see the barn, last check!”

She felt weary at his persistence. Yes - the practicalities of life helped, and he was great at roping her in to take care of every aspect of their ‘farm’. After today, it would be a farm - small, but with a stretch of an indulgent imagination, they would be farmers. So he tilted her head to his, and touched his forehead against hers.

“Don’t forget…” said Trent.

“Yes yes. You love me. I won’t forget.”

“Coffee and coats then.”

She nodded, and tears spilled. Again. Often she did not even know her eyes were swimming, and more often, any sign of tenderness or concern turned on the tap. Izzy wiped the tears away in frustration - Trent must think I’m a total princess drip! Grrrr…. There will be others. There will be others. Where are you Jake? Do you know that I love you so much it is breaking my heart? I so badly wanted to be your mama. I’m so sorry my body could not keep you safe. I miss you. I miss you…

The numb telescope drew Izzy to her coat and boots, they automatically clinked their mugs in an absent-minded coffee cheers, and set off for the barn.

Trent opened the doors wide, letting in the fresh morning air. Inside was warm with the scent of hay and timber. He fetched four buckets and went to collect water for the troughs. Izzy wandered aimlessly from stall to stall, willing herself to focus on checking all was in order.

No exposed nails on the new stall guards, latches in working order, troughs fixed and hay in place. The chickens put up a ruckus as she retrieved eggs and she chatted to them - thanking them for delicious breakfast and baking treats, informing them of their new room mates who were on their way.

All in order, troughs filled, hay stored, bags of grain rechecked and Trent was looking out for the livestock. Izzy joined him and sat on the barn floor, leaning against the door frame.

“So you really think the bullock will grow to be a prize?” she asked.

“From all accounts, this lad was a steal. Every farmer in the county had their eye on him. Your Dad is legend, letting us have him. He is a feisty one, but I think we understand each other.”

Izzy giggled. She drew great amusement from Trent’s abandon to his new life - abandon that drew some sideways glances and questions about his soundness of mind. Trent was running on instinct - pure instinct, he told her. He had no rule books for how to be, what to say, what ‘normal’ was. So his plan was to run full tilt into every situation and do exactly what he felt needed to be done - preferably in the opposite direction to his learned behaviour that had landed him in prison at eighteen.

Izzy wondered at his transformation. Tough and tender. Depths of emotion and empathy that should have been impossible for his childhood experiences. And yet his enormous love for her had seemed to open another door for him - one that he had willingly walked through and left his past behind, re-creating Trent Miller into his instinctive best self.

What a man, she thought. God how I love him.

The first truck was climbing the hill carefully, and even from a distance they could hear the bullock battering his horns against the cab. Izzy’s eyes grew wide in alarm.

“Let me check the fences again…” and she was off at pace, not willing to entertain the thought of their prize bull escaping.

Izzy was on the opposite side of the pasture when Dad pulled up and dropped the ramp of his truck. The young bull boiled out of his confinement like a pent up volcano, and before anyone could do anything, 1000 pounds of enraged bovine was charging towards her.

Trent did not pause - he bolted at the bull with literally no chance of chasing him down, but his legs grew springs and he was on the bullock before they were half way across the pasture. Trent launched himself onto the bull’s neck and pulled him down, oblivious to the danger he was in himself….

The cloud of dust settled, nothing moved. For what seemed an eternity, the moment hung - not eager to display the possible outcomes, lingering to delay…

Trent popped up, covered in mud. Izzy and Dad ran towards him, but he held up his hands. “No - stay back, he might charge again!”

Then: “I’m ok, really. I’m ok I think.”

The bull snorted and shook his head. He got up and shook himself off, seeming rather disoriented, and walked away, still shaking his horns from side to side.

Izzy ran to Trent, and helped him up. “ARE YOU OUT OF YOUR MIND??” she yelled. “What madman tackles a bull? Oh my God, Trent, you are insane…”

And she collapsed in giggles. She was howling with laughter, crawling through the pasture to get to the barn and out of harm’s way. Trent was ok, he was insane, but he was ok. And she collapsed again.

It must be the shock, she thought. But then Dad was in fits of laughter with her, both of them holding their stomachs and crying with mirth! “Flying through the air…. Tackling a bull…. My God, I’ve seen it all!” Dad was saying.

Trent stood above them while they sat on the barn floor, helplessly wracked with peals of laughter rolling across the valley. “I’m awful glad I entertained you so well, don’t let me stop the hilarity. Enjoy, enjoy.”

There is not much better medicine than laughter. This, Izzy learned. When it was over, and everyone was ok, and they were witness to a drama that was to become county legend - proving to some that Trent was indeed ‘touched’, and others that he was a true hero - Izzy found that there was a stubborn flicker of joy inside.

Early days, she told the flicker. As long as I know that you are still there…

family
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About the Creator

Angie Allanby

Lover of earth. Citizen of the world. Seeker of truth.

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