Jessie Belle: The Women of Merryton - Book One by Jennifer Peel Page A

home. Blake didn’t care what I ate, but he was just so healthy it made
me feel uncomfortable indulging in real food around him. So, for good measure,
I washed it down with a strawberry milkshake. Once again my stomach said, Hold
on there, missy, you can’t throw food like that at me after barely eating for
months. It probably wasn’t the best decision, but it tasted really good
going down. Besides, I had been hitting the gym. Cheyenne was right—Rob, the
new Zumba instructor, was amazing. He could probably make you lose two pounds
in his hour-long class, if that’s what you were looking to do.
    Merryton
was an hour from Denver and we rolled back into town around eight. It was the
best day I’d had in a very long time. It also gave me incentive to clean out my
closet and finally give away all of my maternity clothes. I don’t know why I
was hanging on to them. I knew I would never have a reason to wear them again,
but it was hard to let go.
    Carter’s
room was still untouched. I never went in there, but it was the sweetest baby
boy nursery ever. It had a vintage old west feel with a worn red color on the
walls and faded blue as an accent. Blake had even made a cradle that rocked. He
surprised me with it the day we found out we were having a boy. I’d had no idea
he had been working on it. Sometimes he was so thoughtful.
    The
cradle, crib, and all the other baby furniture sat empty and untouched in the
room nearest ours.
    I
could visit Carter’s grave, but going in his room was something I couldn’t
bring myself to do. Maybe because of all the time I had spent in there before
he died. I used to sit on the rocking chair in his room and read or rest,
thinking about how excited I was to meet our little angel. But that time never
came. I knew someday I would have to deal with that room, but I wasn’t even
close to ready to tackle it.
    Instead
I tackled my closet and organized it. Blake was busy in his shop when I got
home, so it was good to have something to do. It made me feel less lonely in
our big house that was meant for more than just one or two people. I boxed up
almost everything I’d had previously hanging up and replaced it with my purchases
from that day. I had to say, it was much more inviting and bright in there now.
I hadn’t meant to get into such a rut, but boy had I dug myself in deep.
    As
I ran my hands across my completely revamped wardrobe, I was startled by my
name being called.
    “Jessica.”
    I
placed my hand over my pounding heart and turned to find my husband standing at
the door of the walk-in closet in his jeans and t-shirt covered in the usual
amount of dust and dirt. I found it quite attractive.
    “You
scared me.”
    “Sorry,
I wanted to talk to you.”
    “What
about?”
    He
rubbed the back of his neck and then ran his fingers through his thick, dark
hair. I had missed doing that myself. It was funny, the things I found myself
missing lately—things that I had forgotten I enjoyed.
    “I’m
going to fly to Salt Lake City tomorrow,” he blurted out.
    I
steadied myself by gripping onto the bar closest me. “Oh.”
    “I
would have invited you to come, but I know how you feel about flying and this
is going to be a quick day trip.”
    I
nodded my head and reminded myself to remain calm and collected and not cry. Of
course he was anxious to meet her. My head completely understood that, but my
heart ached. And I didn’t do planes if I could avoid it. Flying for me was a
major deal. It involved Valium and time to psych myself up for it. Driving
there on such short notice was out of the question; it was nine hours, one way.
Not that I was sure I would go even if he was driving.
    He
quickly and abruptly changed the subject. “It looks like you’ve been busy,” he
said as he looked at all the boxes.
    “Spring
cleaning, I guess,” I said in response.
    “What
are you going to do with all of the boxes?”
    “I
was planning on taking them to Goodwill.”
    “I’ll
take care of