Page 75 of The Cowboy and the Baby

25

CADE

A dark pit sank into my stomach as Sarah and Thomas departed. Long after their car sped down the driveway, and Wyatt and Cody dispersed to different chores elsewhere, I stared at the spot.

Something wasn’t right.

Noelle shared my unease. She padded down the hallway, peered inside Lily’s bedroom, and returned. “Lily is sleeping soundly.” She rubbed her palms over her arms, though the house wasn’t cold. I had added more logs to the fire while they were here, and it was plenty warm.

“Um . . .”

She chewed on her bottom lip. I pushed away from the wall and brought her into my arms, reassuring myself by reassuring her. I didn’t like that expression on her face. It pissed me off, because I didn’t like the uncertainty. We had imagined other endings to this situation, and they might have been worse on the surface, but that sudden departure wasn’t on the list.

I couldn’t shake, we have the information we need, out of my head.

Noelle pressed into me, her face tucked into my neck. I swept a hand across her hair, moving it aside, and kept her anchored close.

“I don’t know what to make of that,” I reasoned aloud, “but it could have gone worse. At least they’re out of our hair. They got to see and hold Lily and ask questions and know where she lives. It shows goodwill, and that we’re not hiding her from anyone.”

“What did Thomas ask you?”

“Just about the house and renovations. Surface-level stuff, nothing very deep. I didn’t mention the animals in the walls or the weird doors that comprise the walls. They didn’t even go into the bathroom.”

A knot of tension existed in between her shoulders, so I rubbed my thumb in a circle around it, finding comfort in the touch. Touch. My goodness. How long had it been since I could soak up the warm touch of a woman?

So, I soaked her up.

“Well,” Noelle concluded, a little lost, “I think we can assume it is done for now, and we’ll . . . see if we hear from them.”

I pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured, “I agree,” and she wrapped her arms around my waist. I held her there until long minutes had passed with nothing but the occasional sound from outside, the creak of the house. Eventually, she pulled away with a little sigh.

“I’ll get dinner started. It’ll take a few hours in the crock pot.”

“I’ll check on the knuckleheads. They’ll need new assignments soon, after they finish their online schooling.”

A chill settled on my shoulders a few hours later. Phone pressed to my ear, I paced across the barn floor and chewed on my lip. I called Pastor Mike.

Oddly enough, reception was highest in the middle of the barn instead of the house, which made my life easier when old man Morgan had commands to bark out from his recliner when I first arrived. Hardly six months passed before he turned the whole operation over to me.

A familiar voice answered.

“Hello?”

“Pastor Mike?”

“Cade, how are you?”

“Good.” I nodded, like that helped at all. Clearing my throat, I asked, “I just wanted to follow up and see how . . .”

. . . how things are going? stumbled on my tongue. I sounded like an idiot who didn’t know what he wanted. But how is my mom doing? also felt weird. Too late, I realized that I had called Pastor Mike without knowing what I wanted from him, beyond a vague update about my mother. It showed an eagerness I’d never been able to curb.

Noelle and Lily and the house kept me occupied and busy, but a corner of my mind and heart would always belong to my mom. I couldn’t shut her or concern for her off completely, though I tried. It percolated, always a backdrop.

Pastor Mike saved me from embarrassing myself with a bright, “Oh, sure! I’m glad you called. I was thinking about you yesterday. We just saw your mother a few days ago, and I was able to give her some of the things we bought with the money you sent. I apologize, I forgot to send pictures.”

A ding, ding, ding followed, and I glanced at my screen to see photos land. Indeed, a bundle of clothes, some basic medicines, and toiletries. But in the background of each picture was Mom. She was smaller and thinner than I remembered. Clearly, she avoided the camera—she always did—and Pastor Mike seemed to respect her desire to be mostly out of the image.

My stomach ached, seeing her so shriveled. It had been years since I saw her in anything of a really healthy state, but it still felt like a kick in the gut. My voice had a husky note that I hated when I replied.