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“Is that from my dad? Did Rosie-Posie have the baby?”
She kept the details to herself and tried to sound relaxed. “Not yet, but they think it will be soon.”
Zeke turned his head. “Rosie-Posie says we can pray anywhere.” His voice and expression turned serious. “It’s not just for goin’ to church and stuff, so maybe you and me can pray for her and for the baby and for my frog that got stepped on last week. Because I miss my froggie a lot. Okay?”
“Very okay.”
She let him lead the prayer, and when he was done, he looked back up at her. “You’re apposed to say ‘amen,’” he reminded her.
“Amen.” She smiled down at him, and then, on impulse, she leaned her cheek down, against his. “God bless you, little man.”
He leaned his cheek into hers, then shifted again. “Did you bring some snacks? My dad always has snacks in his bag.”
She hadn’t considered such a thing. “No. Sorry. But we can head back and see what Cookie’s up to.”
“Today is his day off.”
“Corrie, then. And maybe we can do something in the kitchen together. Would you like that?” She angled the horse along the ridge edge, then down an easy grade trail. “Cookies?”
“I love cookies!”
“And I like making cookies. I’ve been making them since I was a little girl. Corrie taught me.”
“Well, she’s very smart.”
Lizzie smiled, and as Zeke relaxed against her, her heart eased a little more. It felt good to hold the boy, talk with him, laugh with him.
She hadn’t expected that. How natural this would seem, despite the awkwardness of the situation.
“Thank you for bringing me on a ride.” Zeke sounded peaceful, clearly comfortable and wonderfully content. “It’s my favorite thing, Miss Lizzie.”
Having grown up on a horse farm, she understood that completely. “Mine, too.” She’d longed for that kind of tranquil therapy for years. How much it had meant to saddle up Maeve and hit the ground running.
Maybe because she had been naive then.
As she hit the flats, she encouraged the horse to a gentle lope. Mane flying, Honey cantered her way across the unfenced pasture like a master. Not too fast, not too slow, enough to make Zeke laugh with delight while she held him snug with one arm.
When she slowed the horse to a cooling walk, Zeke squealed softly. “I love going so fast, Miss Lizzie. This was the best ride ever!”
She’d had a lot of sweet rides in her youth. She’d brought home many a ribbon and trophy as a young equestrian. But Zeke was right. Holding him on the saddle and letting the gentle mare fly free might have been the sweetest ride she’d ever taken.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The sight of Zeke in Lizzie’s arms, curled on the couch in the great room, made Heath stop short later that afternoon.
His breath caught somewhere in the center of his chest. His heart winced, then continued beating.
She looked beautiful, holding his son, as both slept. Her lashes lay dark against her pale skin.
And Zeke’s lashes lay black against more coppery tones while his brown face was tucked beneath hers.
The peaceful scene looked natural.
It wasn’t.
He knew that. His son was a total blessing despite the grievous result of Anna’s pregnancy. He’d been conceived in love…
His conscience gave him a sharp mental kick.
That first baby had been conceived in love, too. A younger love, fierce in its beauty and excitement. As he watched Lizzie snuggle Zeke in sweet repose, he realized a marked difference.
He’d married Anna. He’d gone about things the right way that time. He’d made her his wife in front of God and a small gathering at the Holy Grace of God Church in the village.
He’d made no such vow to Lizzie. He’d let her father and grandfather browbeat him into leaving while she’d ended the pregnancy. Anguish had begun his journey north once Sean Fitzgerald contacted him, and anger had taken over about halfway to Idaho.
And yet—
If he hadn’t been strong enough to fight for the girl, was the outcome more his fault than he’d been willing to believe back then?
Lizzie’s eyes opened.
His heart paused. His mind raced back, over the years. She’d been pretty back then.
She was beautiful now. She blinked slowly, saw him, and her gaze clouded. Then she seemed to remember Zeke and her arms folded around him in a protective gesture. “Is he still sleeping?” She whispered the words, stirring more old memories.
Heath nodded.
She shifted slightly and adjusted the curled-up boy as she did. When Heath reached for him, she shook her head. “Don’t disturb him, he’s comfortable. We had an early morning and a busy day,” she went on, and Heath couldn’t help but notice how she cradled the five-year-old against her chest. “I got schooled in sheep, then I schooled him in cookies, horses and chocolate milk bubbles. A good day, all in all. How is Rosina doing?”
