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“He always does,” Sloan murmured with little feeling.
Almost on cue, Trey felt the sharp kick of the baby in her womb despite the heavy sweater she wore. “I think one little guy disagrees.” The sensation of it stirred through him, reawakening all those new, tender feelings that were part pride and part awe. He smiled down at Sloan. “Just think. In a couple years, our son will be out there ripping and roaring with the rest of them.”
“Let’s let him be born first.”
Trey caught the faint but slightly irritable note in her voice and ran an inspecting glance over her. “Tired?” he guessed.
“A little.” Nothing in her expression indicated to him what Sloan was thinking or feeling. It wasn’t the first time in the last few days that he’d felt shut out.
Patience had become his motto. It wasn’t something that came easy to him, yet Trey had decided it was best to overlook her odd moods rather than try to find their source. Operating on that principle, he ignored her current one. “By the way,” he began, hoping to improve things with a compliment, “Cat told me that you helped pick out the presents for the children—and wrap them. I’m glad you’re lending a hand with some of family duties.”
“I suppose you would like me to do more.”
From the cool way she gave him, Trey sensed he had said something wrong. “Only if you feel up to it, of course.”
“Of course,” Sloan echoed the phrase, but dryly.
Clamping down on his impatience, he asked, “Are you feeling all right, honey?”
“I’m fine. Just tired. It’s been a long day.” Like all her other answers, the sentences were short and clipped, the kind that didn’t encourage further conversation.
Still he tried. “There goes Johnny and Kelly.” Trey nodded in the direction of the couple, making their way to one of the side doors. “Want to bet that he waits till Christmas to pop the question.”
“Really?”
“Don’t you want to know why?” he prompted.
“Why?” But her tone was indifferent to his answer.
“Knowing how tight Johnny is with a dollar, he’ll figure that if he gives her a ring for Christmas, he won’t have to buy her a present.” But his attempt at humor fell flat, failing to draw even a ghost of a smile from Sloan. He glanced at the smiling pair exiting the barn via its side door, all bundled up against the nip of a December evening. Trey had a feeling he knew their destination. On impulse, he glanced at Sloan. “Want to slip out of here?”
Her head snapped around to him, her face aglow for the first time. “Will it be all right?”
“Sure. I’ll get your coat and hat.”
Within minutes, Sloan was swaddled in her heavy parka, a stocking cap on her head, and a scarf wound around her neck. Trey buttoned up his own jacket and tugged on his lined gloves.
“Better put your mittens on. It’s cold outside,” he warned as he escorted her to the closest door. Obediently, she dug them out of her pocket and pulled them on.
Outside most of the snow that had fallen earlier in the month had melted, but enough remained to leave a thin crust of dirty white in protected areas. Trey kept a supporting hand on Sloan’s arm as they made their way across the frozen and rutted ground between the parked vehicles.
Beyond the row of trucks stood a horse team hitched to an old wagon, mounded with fresh hay. One of the heavy-coated horses shifted in place, setting the bells on its harness to jingling. Old Jobe Garvey sat in the driver’s seat, his back to the couples already nestled close together in the hay. Trey was quick to spot Kelly and Johnny getting ready to climb aboard.
“When was the last time you were on a hayride?” he asked Sloan.
“When I was twelve at summer camp. Why?” she asked, then spotted the wagon and guessed the reason. “Is this why we came out? I thought we were going to the house.”
“If you went on a hayride when you were twelve, it was probably with a bunch of giggling girls. This one is adults-only,” he told her. “The kids got their ride this afternoon. Come on, you’ll enjoy it.”
When he started to guide her toward the wagon, Sloan drew back. “No, I’d—I’d just be uncomfortable.”
“No you won’t. Not with all that hay to cushion you.”
“I’m not talking about the ride.” Her voice had a low and angry pitch to it. “It’s the others. They don’t want me on it.” She turned to face away from the wagon as if to keep from being overheard.
Dumbfounded by her statement, Trey frowned. “What are you talking about? That’s ridiculous.” But, like her, he kept his voice down.
“Don’t tell me you didn’t notice the way everyone treated me today? Why do you think I was standing by myself while you were playing Santa?” Her voice trembled with the effort to keep all the roiling emotions inside. Truthfully, Trey hadn’t thought a thing about it, but he didn’t admit that. “No one was openly rude to me. It was much more subtle than that.”
