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“Their what?” He frowned, surprised.
“Grown-ups. Little boys listen and learn, and they don’t boss grown-ups around.”
“Oh.” Guilt made him cringe. “My dad says that, too.”
“Your dad and I are in complete agreement. Once you’re done, let’s head to the barn.”
He chugged his chocolate milk in seconds and grabbed the rest of his toast. “I can eat this on the way. Come on!” He grabbed her hand in his.
And held an instant part of her heart, as well.
“I love helping with the farm,” he told her, skipping alongside once they cleared the steps. “I love big, huge barns and horsies and all of it. But mostly I love the sheep and the little lambs. They make me smile.”
“Me, too.”
He peered up, interested. “Did you have a horse when you were little, Miss Lizzie?”
She had. A big, beautiful bay mare that sensed her every move. A marvelous jumper, a sterling competitor. Gone now, like all the rest. She swallowed around a lump in her throat and nodded. “I did. Her name was Maeve and she was my special friend.”
“That’s a funny name for a horse.”
“I suppose you think Honey’s Money is normal?”
His expression said it was.
“I lived on an Irish farm and a lot of the horses had Irish names.” She didn’t call Claremorris home. The expansive holding hadn’t been home to her in decades, but she’d missed working the horse barn. Feeding, tending, grooming, riding. She hadn’t realized how much until she’d stepped into her current position, a chance that felt like home. A real home with a real job.
Zeke released her hand and raced into the barn. She started to chase after him, then realized the boy knew his way around better than she did. He paused at the right stall, stepped up on a rail, and peered in. “One happy sheep!” he announced in an excited but soft voice. “And two little lambs!”
The discontented cries of the lambs had changed to quiet bleats of satisfaction overnight. The ewe appeared better. One hundred percent improved. She watched the babies snuggle in against their mother’s abundant udder as they dozed off.
Sweet contentment had replaced angst and worry.
Successful mother. Satisfied babies. The dream come true that didn’t always come out that way.
“I think that baby is so happy.”
Zeke’s little voice broke her mental musings. “Why’s that, my friend?”
“Well, she’s got a mama to snuggle her.” His matter-of-fact tone was belied by the longing marking his face and his gray-blue eyes. “I think my mama used to snuggle me just like that. When I was little,” he added.
The hunger in his gaze softened the part of her heart she’d put on hold long ago. “I’m sure she did.”
“My dad misses her sometimes.” His voice turned more pragmatic again. “He gets that funny look when I talk about her, so then I don’t talk about her so much. Can we ride now?”
They sure could. Anything to get out of talking about lost mothers and sad children. She’d lived the scenario, losing her mother when she was just shy of six years old, but Zeke had one big difference. His father loved him. Doted on him.
Tim Fitzgerald loved Tim Fitzgerald. He’d never pretended his girls meant much. In return, the three sisters had grown up between Corrie’s loving kindness and their grandparents’ somewhat aristocratic affection. It could have been so much worse, she knew, but she’d learned that wealth and status didn’t replace love and that was a valuable lesson.
She helped Zeke down from the rail. “Let’s get Honey ready, shall we?”
“Sure!”
She snugged the boy in front of her once the horse was saddled and headed across the adjacent field.
Rugged hills became mountains to the north and northwest. The wide valley continued beyond the ranch, in the direction of Shepherd’s Crossing. As they moved uphill, she spotted other homes, other farms, sporadically spaced, and when they got to an intermediate ledge, the distant image of a town came into view. From here, she couldn’t see the decay, the flaking paint, the listing shutters. From here the town offered an image of what it had been before times got hard. Small. Compact. Cozy.
The valley splayed green and lush as the spring greening moved up the hills. Flat land spread from side to side, and the curve of a creek or small river marked an almost central path with mountains to their back. The beauty of the land lay different than Kentucky and light years from Louisville.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She withdrew it carefully, keeping a snug hold on Zeke. No baby yet, maybe C-section. I know I shouldn’t worry, but I am. Thanks for watching little man.
