As Megan called down the digits, Chad punched them into his phone. She answered on the first ring. “This is crazy, Tesdall. Even for you.”
“Look, I don’t want Vannie to overhear. Laird doesn’t know who it was, but he thinks Vannie does. Do I have to ask her tonight or can it wait until morning. She’s a sensitive girl. If we ask tonight, she’s not going to sleep.”
“It’ll keep till morning. Is William or Burt here?”
“Neither.” Chad hesitated. “Wait, I think I see William’s ‘Vette.”
“Argh! I need the kit. Okay, send him in.”
Those three words soothed his pride. At least Megan tried to treat him like a professional. With William, it would depend upon whether he was interrupted in the middle of something or not. “Hey, Markenson. Megan says to go on in. Got the kit?”
“No. She doesn’t have it?”
Chad shook his head. “She thought Burt was bringing it.”
“He’s stuck at the station for a minute.” William hesitated. “I could go back…”
“I’ll go get it. It’ll give me something to do. Just tell me something first.”
“What’s that?”
Chad jerked his thumb at the house. “Place is pretty well trashed in the animal deposit and kid vandalism department. When’s the earliest you think they’ll be allowed in tonight?”
“If it smells as bad in there as you smell out here, they won’t want in tonight.” William opened the front door. “Yeah. Not a place to bring kids—not tonight.”
“That’s what I thought.” Chad turned to Luke and pointed to the van. “Might as well get on the road. I’ll tell Willow to expect you.”
“We can’t—”
“You can’t get a hotel big enough for you guys tonight and you know it. Just go. We’ll make room. It’ll be fine.”
As Chad walked back to his truck and started it, he called Willow. It took a few tries—just enough time to get the van out of the drive and allow for Chad to follow. At last, she answered. “Sorry, I was feeding Kari. Is everything okay?”
“House is trashed. Skunk, cats, kids being destructive. Luke and Aggie are on their way. Can you start finding places for everyone to sleep? I’m off to get the crime kit for Megan and William and then I’ll run to Wal-Mart and grab a few sleeping bags for the kids.”
“We’ve got that blow up mattress—and the couches.”
Chad smiled as he heard it—that note in Willow’s voice. It always meant one thing. Everything would work out just fine. She had it covered.
“Looks like we’ve got house guests for a few days.”
Willow laughed. “I’m always telling Aggie I never get to see enough of her.”
“Well, this’ll be an interesting visit, but it won’t be boring. See you when I get home.”
“Hurry. Those kids are probably exhausted.”
Chapter 194
Willow crept from her room, closing the door behind her. Her eyes scanned the door to her mother’s room where Luke and Aggie slept and glanced down at the basket in her hand. If she left Kari in her cradle, would Aggie hear if the baby cried? It would be much easier—she shook her head. Easier or not, this was her life. The snoozing baby tempted her. Why wake a baby and take her out into the cold if not necessary? Why not? Fresh air—even if slightly tainted with barnyard perfume—is a necessity of life.
She carried the baby downstairs, gingerly stepping around sleeping bodies scattered across the living and dining rooms. In the kitchen, she began the wrap process. Once Kari lay snuggled against her chest, held in place by yards of stretchy fabric, Willow buttoned her maternity coat over them both, wrapped a scarf around her, and pulled a felted stocking cap over her head.
Becca waved from across the pasture as Willow stepped off the porch. Portia raced to greet her. “Morning, girl. It’s warming up a bit after that cold snap.” She laughed at the dog’s antics. “Seems to have perked you up too.”
Once in the barn, she filled the pot with water and set it on the stove. Minute by minute, she went through familiar steps, talking to Kari with each movement. “Routine grounds you, Kari. There’s just something about routine that gives you balance to every aspect of your life.”
With a freshly scalded pail, Willow strolled to Redundant’s stall and patted her back. “Morning. Bet you’d like some relief.”
The new goat gave her an expression that could have meant anything from “good morning, human” to “you need to lose a few pounds.” Willow chose to believe it to be the former and after washing the animal’s teats well, settled into a strong milking rhythm. She jumped as she heard a voice behind her. “Can I try this time?”
A glance over her shoulder showed Tavish staring at her, arms draped over the side of the stall. “Good morning. Did I wake you?”
“I like to get up early. It’s quiet then. That’s the only time it’s quiet.”
“And you want to learn to milk?”
“Just seems like it would be a good thing to learn—just in case. Maybe when I get older, I can come take care of the animals like Caleb Allen.”
She started to rise and hesitated. “I’ll show you if Aggie or Luke says it’s okay.”
The boy hesitated and nodded. “That’s fair.” Seconds later, he asked, “Who do you think is more likely to say yes?”
Willow’s laughter startled Redundant, causing the animal to protest. “Shh… it’s okay. I just like how this boy thinks. It terrifies me, but I like it.” She eyed Tavish for a moment. “When it comes to safety things, ask the dad. Dads seem less freaky about stuff like that than moms. When it comes to anything that guilt plays into, I’d try moms for that. I bet it works the same with aunts and uncles.”
Again, Tavish nodded, but his eyes told her his mind was far away already. Just as the next squirt of milk hit the pail, he asked, “Can I ask a rude question?”
“Sure. Can’t promise I’ll answer it if it’s really rude, but I don’t usually think things are rude that other people do.”
“That’s what I like about you.” Tavish cleared his throat. “How do you know so much about dads? You didn’t have one—not really.”
“I’ve been watching since I’ve been around people.” She hesitated, wondering if it was wise to speak so frankly to someone else’s child, but Willow took the chance. “You know, when I was younger, I didn’t understand stereotypes.”
“Like Canadians are polite?”
“Yep. Or ‘Women are emotional’ or ‘men are visual.’ I didn’t get that. Everyone is different, so how can people say that?”
“But you understand it now.” Tavish stated the obvious.
“Somewhat, yes. You watch people long enough and you discover that most of them are true—or once were.”
“That’s what Aunt Aggie said once. She said that stereotypes might not always be true now, but they became stereotypes for a reason. It was true in the minds of a big part of the population at some point.”
Willow thought about it. “Or, if not in a big part of the population, at least in the most vocal one. I can see how perception in a larger group could come up with false ideas about a smaller one and make it the stereotype.”
“Oh, like …can’t think of one.” He frowned.
Though tempted to offer several suggestions of her own, Willow decided to leave the discussion where it was. “There. She’s all done. Come watch me strain the milk and scald the pail. It’s part of the milking process. If you aren’t careful, you can contaminate it.”
Tavish stood beside her, ready to help with anything, watching every move. “Don’t you worry about pouring boiling water on your baby?”
“Do you worry about pouring boiling water down the front of your shirt when you have a pan of it?”
“No, but it’s smaller than you with her strapped there. She sticks out more.”
Willow thought and added, “But there are women as big as this—overweight. They don’t pour boiling water down their fronts very often, do they?”
&n
bsp; He nodded, thinking. “That makes sense. It seems dangerous somehow.” He peered over the neckline of her coat, trying to see the baby. “She’s probably bigger than last month. Babies grow like crazy at first.”
“Yep. The other day she was fifteen pounds.” Willow strained the milk, rinsed the cloth, and hung it over the washer. “That’s all there is to it. I’ll get you up tomorrow if Luke says it’s okay.”
“I’ll be awake.”
As they stepped outside, Tavish glanced toward the tree line. “Is the zip line still up?”
“I’ll do it after breakfast. I’ve been wanting to put it up for weeks. It’s just a lot of fun when it’s cool out for some reason.”
“You play on it?”
Willow shrugged. “It’s my zip line, isn’t it?”
“I just thought it was leftover from when you were a kid.”
“Technically, it is, but there were things I outgrew that I didn’t keep. If I didn’t plan to use them again, I got rid of stuff.”
She reached for the back door, but Tavish stopped her. “Do you regret it now?”
“Regret what?”
“Throwing out your old stuff? You didn’t think you were having kids, right?”
Though the boy had a point, Willow shook her head. “No… we can’t live our lives holding onto things we don’t want or need for a someday that might never come.”
Willow stood at the stove, frying pancake after pancake for a line of children that seemed never to shorten. After half an hour, she realized it didn’t. Each time she dropped a pancake on a plate, the child went, ate, and got back in line. She turned to Aggie. “How do you do it?”
Aggie, feeding her son, picked up Ronnie’s fork—again—and glanced over her shoulder. “I have two long griddles that cover the stove.” She dove to save the boy’s cup before it spilled across the table. “I can make six at a time. It makes a difference.”
“Mother and I never needed that, but I might now.”
“I’ll get you some for Christmas. I’ve been trying to figure out what to do for months.” Aggie blushed. “I have to think months ahead or I’ll forget someone.”
“We don’t expect gifts. You have enough on your plate without adding the obligation of an ever-expanding—” Willow stopped. “Well, not anymore in this house, but with Cheri getting married and Chris acting more committed every week…”
“Optimal word there is acting,” Luke mumbled after chugging down the rest of his milk. “Good milk by the way.”
Laird wrinkled his nose. “I’ll take your word for it.”
Willow caught Tavish’s expression and decided to have mercy on the boy. “Hey, Luke. Do you have any objection to me teaching Tavish how to milk?”
“Nope. He’d be good at it—quiet and steady.” Luke grinned at his “son” and pushed back his chair. “I’ve got to get to the house and see what it’ll take to make it habitable. We might want to call around for hotels, Mibs. I bet it’ll take a few days and none of the project houses are fit for habitation yet.”
Blocking his path to the door, Willow shook her spatula at him and ignored the burning pancake in the skillet. “You’ll do no such thing. We’ve got the room and you’ll need to spend your money on repairs, not two or three hotel rooms.”
“We’re not a visit, Willow—”
“You’re an invasion,” she finished. “So I’ve heard. Well, I’m inviting the invasion to camp out and will be offended if you do not accept without a more solid reason than ‘it’s too much for you to handle.’”
Luke’s silence, combined with smoke rising from the skillet, sent Willow racing to dispose of the incinerated pancake. Half a minute later, he cleared his throat. “Okay. If Chad agrees, we’ll stay as long as you promise to kick us out if it becomes too much. It should only be a couple more nights anyway.”
“Of course, I will.”
Aggie laughed. “Only Willow could say that and make us believe it.”
Antsy children shuffled feet, sighed, and jostled one another behind Willow as she worked to fry the next pancake. This time, she filled the entire bottom of the skillet with batter, let it cook, flipped it, and scooped it onto Laird’s plate. “If that doesn’t fill you, nothing will.”
“He’s a boy,” Vannie retorted. “Nothing will, but that’ll keep him from starving until he gets through the line again… and again… and again…”
“Stuff it, Vannie.”
“Um, do you see your plate? You’re stuffing it.”
“Knock it off—both of you,” Aggie snapped. “You’re not starting this today. Not. One. More. Word that you wouldn’t say if Jesus was sitting there observing.”
“Because He is,” Laird and Vannie echoed in unison.
“That’s right. It’s bad enough when I have to tell Ian and Kenzie, but honestly… you’re sixteen, Vannie. Don’t be ridiculous.”
Ian’s little face stared up at her. “‘Please, ma’am, I want some more.’”
“Very funny.” Aggie rolled her eyes. “Why did I think it was smart to have them watch the movie?”
“Oliver Twist at four?”
“Better than the garbage they offer up as children’s programming.” Aggie rubbed her swollen belly and gave it a small smack. “Knock it off in there. I don’t have time for this today.”
“How’d your ultrasound go? Did they tell you if it’s a boy or a girl?” Willow piled another enormous pancake on Tavish’s plate.
Cari pointed. “Can I have a real pancake? That’s too big for me.”
“Sure.” Willow’s eyes slid to Lorna. “Do you want a regular sized one or a big one?”
“She’ll take a regular sized one.” The defeated expression on Lorna’s face prompted Aggie to add, “Lorna tends to try to get more than she really needs so we don’t run out of all she wants.”
“Laird eats all the good stuff if I don’t!”
“Well,” Willow interjected, “I have enough ingredients to make pancakes non-stop for a week—even with all of you here—so if you want another, and another, and another…”
As Willow slid more pancakes onto more plates, Aggie described her last doctor’s appointment and the unhelpfulness of their next baby. “She showed nothing—nothing.”
“Yet you’re calling the baby a she…”
“Well, the technician said she saw a brief moment where she thought she should have seen something she didn’t, so…”
Willow thought for a moment. “So you’re assuming girl but don’t know.”
“Yep. The pregnancy is different too. Oh, and the heart rate is ‘girl’—if that means anything.”
Tavish interrupted before Willow could reply. “Is it normal for Becca to chase the sheep across the pasture?”
Willow stared at the downed fence, an obvious “attack” by motor vehicle. “We’ll have to replace this whole section. The damage is too extensive.”
The splintered post had glass embedded in it and scattered around the base. Becca glowered. “I hope whoever did this got pulled over for reckless driving—somehow.”
“I doubt it.”
“I still think we’re missing two sheep. I got all the ones I could off the road but my count was short by two.”
“Well, maybe.” It didn’t seem likely. Becca had wandered up and down the highway half a dozen times and still found nothing. Her eyes scanned the pasture, and something to the right of the field caught her eye. “What’s that?” She stared hard, walking toward it. “Surely someone didn’t get hurt.”
As they neared, Willow sucked in her breath. One of the ewes struggled for breath, blood soaking the wool around a gash in its side. “I think this one took impact from the car. Poor thing.”
Becca’s voice shook a little as she whispered, “Call the vet?”
Her hand sought the phone in her pocket as Willow shook her head. “No—hey, Aggie. I have a favor to ask…”
Laughter turned to dismay as Willow relayed what had happened. “Do you think you can
trust Laird or Vannie to bring me my shotgun and a couple of cartridges?” Her mouth went dry as she realized she hadn’t hidden it yet. “And do you think you can forgive me for not putting it out of sight? Chad won’t, but maybe you will?”
“Where is it?”
“Hanging above the door in our room. Be careful. It’s loaded.”
“If it’s loaded,” Aggie began, her voice unsteady, “um… why more cartridges.”
“Well, I was going to suggest you have whoever brings it remove the ones in it.”
“No.”
Willow sighed and began jogging back to the house. “That’s okay. I’ll be right there.”
“No, they can bring the gun, but I’ll remove the cartridges. Not them. How do I do it?”
Once Willow walked Aggie through the unloading process, she asked for a shovel as well. “I’ll be out here for a while. If the baby wakes, can you send Vannie out with her?”
Disconnecting the call, Willow stared at the struggling sheep. “I think you should go back and recount sheep. There could be another injured one somewhere. Seconds ticked past as Becca glanced from Willow to sheep.
“Okay. I don’t want to be here when you do it anyway. Want me to check in on the boys?”
She thought, trying to decide the best course of action. “Yes. Actually, bring them back if you would. I’d say bring the gun then, but I think Laird can get it here faster.”
“You want them here with that—”
“I think so. I hope I’m right, but I think so.”
“The fence—”
“Good point. I can’t dig and keep them from the highway.” She frowned. “That isn’t a very good testimony to my parenting.”
“They’re not even two yet! They’re still learning. Cut yourself some slack, Willow. Sheesh.” Before Willow could reply, Becca added in a quieter tone. “Besides, they’d probably listen. You know they would. You’ll just be distracted, and no toddler remembers directions for very long. You’d just have to say with every shovelful, ‘Stay back from the road.’ Ridiculous.”
After five steps away, Becca returned. “Why did you want them here?”
“I wanted to make sure Aggie didn’t have more on her plate than she already does, and I thought that this was a part of life that they’ll have to get used to. One of my earliest memories is me helping Mother dig a grave for a goat that died. I couldn’t have been much more than three.”
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