Claire waited outside the school for Amelia and, as she watched kids greeting their moms and dads, wondered if Amelia missed her mom. She thought about her own mom constantly, picked up the phone to call her at random times through the day before she remembered that her mother wasn’t at the other end of a phone call anymore. Cancer had taken her so fast and left such a gaping hole in Claire’s life.
Her mom would love that she was using her inheritance from her father to build something lasting, and something more than just wood and glass and appliances. Her mother believed in people. She would be proud that Claire did, too.
Amelia opened the door and climbed into the front passenger seat, dumping her backpack to the floor with a thud. “Hey.”
“You got the message about me picking you up, I take it.” Claire started the car and gingerly pulled out into the after-school traffic.
Joe’s daughter clicked her seat belt into place. “Yeah, Joe’s at his doctor’s appointment. Where’s Gram?”
“She had an emergency come up at the café. Something about a dishwasher or refrigerator or something. Either she or your dad will pick you up at the farm later on.”
“Cool. Can I see the kittens?”
“Of course. I have snack food, too.”
“I figured. Joe told Gram that your kitchen is like a convenience store.”
Claire snorted a laugh. “Sounds about right. I’m painting the bedrooms, if you want to help.”
“I’d rather play with the animals. Are you still sleeping in the dining room?”
“Yep. Until I get the bedrooms finished.”
Amelia unzipped her backpack and dug around, coming out with a little ball with feathers attached to it. “I got this for the kittens.”
“They’re going to go crazy for it.” As Claire turned into the long driveway at the farm, she rolled the windows down. It smelled like grass and dirt and fresh air here. A haze hung in the sky from the dust of crops being harvested. She loved it.
Amelia took off like a streak for the barn as soon as Claire stopped the car.
“Hey, girl, your backpack?” Figuring it was a lost cause, Claire picked it up and about fell over at the weight. She yelled toward the barn. “I’m going inside to paint for another hour or so. Check in with me every half hour, please.”
Amelia stuck her head out the door, a kitten already tucked up under her chin. “Okay, I will.”
“Cokes in the cooler, snacks in the kitchen. You know what to do.” Joe’s daughter was already gone. Claire laughed softly. “Another one bites the dust.”
She and Jordan used to say that when her foster kids would go to the barn for therapy. It took about ten minutes with the horses for them to fall completely in love.
Animals were magic with wounded children.
An hour later, with the sun going down, Claire wrapped her brushes in plastic wrap and went looking for Amelia. She found her lying in the grass in the backyard with the kittens romping around her.
Grabbing a couple of snack cakes from the counter, she headed outside. She sat down in the grass and, as Amelia pushed up to one elbow, tossed her a Swiss cake roll. “What’re you thinking about?”
“Nothing, really.” Amelia unwrapped the snack and took a bite. “I guess just about how my mom dropped me off and didn’t even check to make sure my dad was there.”
Claire’s heart felt like lead in her chest. She took a bite of her snack cake and chewed, weighing her words. “That had to be really scary.”
Amelia dropped her head back to the grass and stared blankly at the sky. “I knew she didn’t take good care of me, but she’s my mom, you know?”
“I do.” Claire lay back on the grass beside her, looking into the fluffy clouds, pink from the setting sun. “You know, it’s okay to love her, no matter what.”
A tear streaked from Amelia’s eye into her hairline. She rubbed it away, sneaking a glance at Claire, who pretended not to see. “My dad’s trying really hard. I was mad at him for a while, but it’s not his fault my mom couldn’t keep it together.”
“I think your dad will do anything he can to keep you safe. And he wants to make you happy, too, but it’s still okay to be sad about your mom.”
Amelia rolled her head toward Claire. “When I was eight, my mom said we were going to go watch the fireworks on the Fourth of July. Instead, she got high and had a seizure. I found her in the bathtub. I thought she was gonna die.” She paused for a long minute. “My mom didn’t go to rehab, did she?”
“I don’t know, Amelia.” Claire had answered questions like these more times than she wanted to think about from foster kids. It was always painful. “Do you miss her?”
“Yes. Kind of. But with my dad, I’m not worried about food or whether he’s going to forget me at school.” The sun was sinking and in the twilight Amelia looked older than her twelve years. “Do you think Jesus is looking out for my mom?”
Tears lodged in Claire’s throat and burned her eyes. This time she was the one blinking the moisture away so Amelia wouldn’t see it. “I know He is, honey. He was looking out for you when He brought you to your dad and He’s looking out for your mom right now.”
“We should get the kittens back in the barn and check on Tinkerbell before dinner. It’s almost time for her baby to be born. I noticed she scratched all her hay into a pile today, just like you said she would.” As quick as that, the moment was gone. Amelia bounded to her feet and pulled Claire to hers. “And after dinner, I’m gonna beat you at cards.”
Claire laughed. “Not a chance, but I’ll let you try.”
As Amelia took the kittens back to the barn, Claire wondered if she’d said the right things. The questions were big questions. And some, like whether Amelia’s mom would allow Jesus to help her, only time could answer.
She looked down the long drive out to the highway where Joe had left to go back to Florida, just for a visit this time, to check in with his doctor and the crisis response team he was a part of in Florida. She’d been praying for him all day, that things went well, and if they didn’t, that he had the strength and faith to deal with it.
* * *
Joe pulled slowly into the driveway at Red Hill Farm. Claire had texted him hours ago to let him know that Amelia was with her and could stay the night, but he hadn’t returned the text. He’d finished his appointments and driven out to the beach, planning to stay only until he found some peace. Usually, the ocean calmed him. Not today.
He got out of the truck and walked toward the back door, lifting his hand to knock. The back door opened and bright yellow light spilled out onto the porch. He lifted his head and found himself looking into Claire’s worried blue eyes. “Hi.”
She looked beautiful and perfect with a blue smudge on her face. He reached a finger out and brushed it down her cheek. “You’ve been painting.”
Her eyes widened slightly at his touch and he realized for the first time that he wasn’t the only one who felt a pull.
Deliberately, he let his hand drop and smiled, a slow, tired smile. “You still got my girl here?”
“She crashed about an hour ago, after she ate dinner and beat me to a pulp in Crazy 8’s.”
“Mind if I take a look at her?” He wanted to see her and remind himself that she was what really mattered, not him.
Claire led the way through the kitchen to the small family dining room that she’d converted into a makeshift bedroom. It was messy, a hodgepodge of clothes and tools and painting supplies. And it smelled like fresh green apples, like Claire. Not an ideal bedroom—Claire was obviously roughing it—but Amelia seemed entirely at ease, her arm thrown out in sleep. His daughter was safely tucked in bed and the knowledge that there were times when she hadn’t been nearly killed him.
“She’s been through a lot, but I think she’s going to be okay.” Claire reached out to him, but he didn’t grab hold. Not because he didn’t want to, but because he was afraid he wouldn’t want to let go. He felt adrift and Claire was strong and steady, her passion for what she was doing, solid and real. Instead, he walked through the kitchen and onto the back porch.
From the open door behind him, Claire said, “I have barbecue chips, plain chips, cheese curls and tortilla chips. A selection of candy and snack cakes as well, if you’re hungry.”
Joe winced. “She told you I said your kitchen is like a convenience store?”
“Mmm-hmm.” She walked out the door and stood beside him, looking at the stars in the sky.
“Well, do you even have a piece of fruit in there?”
She scoffed. “Of course I have fruit. There are fruit gummies on the counter, a whole box of them.”
“Fruit does not come in a box.” He shook his head, but as he looked back at the glittery sky, he realized the knot of worry he’d been carrying in his chest had started to loosen. She had a way of doing that with animals and children, and, apparently, him.
“Wait till we have things growing in our garden. You won’t be able to move in here for all the zucchini and tomatoes.” She backed down the stairs as she was talking. “I need to peek in on Tinkerbell. Tell me about your appointment while we go check on her. If you want to.”
He followed her across the yard, but talking about the doctor’s report and his team’s decision wasn’t high on his list at the moment.
Claire pushed the door to the barn open. She wasn’t even through the door all the way before she turned back, her voice an urgent whisper. “Go get Amelia! Tinkerbell’s having her baby.”
She disappeared through the door again.
Joe ran for the house and slammed open the back door. “Amelia!”
He bolted through the kitchen and into the dining room. “Amelia!”
She sat up in bed, rubbing sleep-drenched eyes. “Joe? What’s going on?”
“Claire needs you in the barn.”
“Tinkerbell?” Amelia was wearing a long lavender nightshirt that had to belong to Claire. She jumped to her feet, shoved them into the work boots she’d left by the back door and started down the steps before skidding to a halt and turning back.
“Joe, come on!” She dashed across the yard, nightshirt and hair flying behind her. By the time he picked his heart up off the floor and got to the barn, the hard part for Tinkerbell was over.
“Okay, Amelia, dry him off.” Claire grabbed a suction bulb out of her kit and quickly suctioned the baby goat’s nose and mouth.
Amelia crooned to the new baby while she rubbed it all over with a clean, dry towel. “Oh my goodness, you are so cute. Isn’t she cute, Joe?”
It was mucky and sticky and kind of gross, to be honest, but also incredibly cool. His daughter didn’t pay any attention to the mess. She concentrated on her job, and when they moved the baby for Tinkerbell to clean, Amelia sat back on her heels with a completely satisfied look on her face. “Twins!”
“What? Nice!” Joe peered around the door of the stall and realized that Tinkerbell had already delivered one baby, which was tucked into her side. As Claire placed the new baby by her head, she began patiently cleaning it, too. It was like she just knew what to do out of instinct or something.
He would give a lot to have that kind of innate instinct with Amelia. He leaned against the wooden post. “What are you going to name them?”
Claire’s twinkling eyes met Amelia’s. “Peter Pan and Wendy, of course.”
He chuckled. “Of course. I don’t know what I was thinking. So, what’s next?”
“Amelia needs to go home to bed because she has stuff to do tomorrow. I’ll stay out here with Tinkerbell for a while. There are a few more things to do before I can turn in.”
“Can I spend the night? I want to see them in the morning. Please, Claire?”
“Only if it’s okay with your dad. He’s had a long day, too.”
Truthfully, there were only a couple of hours before daylight. It wouldn’t hurt to let her stay. “Go wash up. I’ll be in soon to tuck you in.”
As Amelia walked slowly into the house, Joe watched Claire. She took a small mason jar full of dark liquid out of her kit, along with shiny silver scissors and some white string. She glanced up at Joe. “There’s an extra sleeping bag in the trunk of my car if you want to stretch out on a piece of floor near Amelia.”
“I’m fine right now. What are you doing?”
“Checking the umbilical cord and dipping it in iodine so they won’t get an infection. Want to help?”
He nodded, so she handed him the first little goat—brown-and-white Peter.
“Just turn him over and I’ll do the rest.”
Joe let the little goat lean back on his chest while Claire made quick work of tying off and dipping the cord, then switched and handed him Wendy. They were still kind of damp but starting to fluff up. Wendy blinked dark brown eyes at him. He held firm until she nuzzled him under the chin with her nose, and then he was a goner. He scratched under her tiny chin and whispered in her ear that she was going to love it here.
Claire encouraged each of the newborns to nurse from Tinkerbell, who obviously just wanted a nap. He could relate, but watching those fuzzy little goats so new in the world had somehow eased the pain from the day.
“I’m just going to shovel some fresh wood chips and straw in here for Tink and her babies, and then I’ll be in, if you want to go check on Amelia.”
He started to walk away but turned back to her. “Claire, thank you. I know you didn’t plan this, but it helped, so thanks for letting me be a part.”
“No problem, anytime.” She didn’t look up from what she was doing and didn’t realize that his face probably reflected what he was feeling. That she rocked his world every bit as much as Amelia’s, with her optimism and her warmth, her easy acceptance of him. And he was getting used to having her around.
Joe shook his head.
He needed to get himself together, because no matter how much he liked and admired Claire, his future was a murky blur. It wouldn’t be fair to her to start something when he had no idea if he would even have a job at the end of his six-month leave.
* * *
Claire shoveled a fresh load of wood chips into Tinkerbell’s stall. She could imagine how Joe felt, from firsthand experience. Horses and goats didn’t talk much, but they were warm and real and somehow they had a way of helping you narrow things down to what was really important.
Tink was tired out from her ordeal and protested when Claire moved her onto the fresh straw. Both babies had full tummies and were ready to settle down, too. Maybe they would all get a nap this morning. She laughed out loud at that thought. The goats would, for sure, but a nap for her? Not likely with the day she had ahead.
A soft breeze blew toward her across the pasture as she walked out into the yard, and she had to admit that her inheritance looked like a graceful old lady in the predawn haze. She dragged her tired body to the picnic table behind the house and sat on top of it, taking in the last few stars twinkling in the sky, remembering the promise she’d made to her mom before she died, that she wouldn’t waste a second.
Her mom was one of those people who when you met them, you didn’t have a doubt that you had just met Jesus. Claire longed for that kind of relationship with Him. She wanted to breathe in Life and breathe it out in her every action. She wanted the kids coming to this home to know Him, too.
And she wanted to be brave, like her mom had been. To not be afraid to do hard things just because they were hard. She rubbed the old scars in the crook of her arm. Sometimes it wasn’t easy to battle those feelings of inadequacy, of not being good enough.
The screen door shut behind her, and a few seconds later, Joe appeared at her side with two cups of steaming coffee. “Since you drank mine the other day at the Hilltop, I figured if I fixed yours the way I like it, you’d be okay with it.”
She took the cup and smiled. “I would drink the cold dregs of a three-day-old pot right now and be grateful for it. This is so much better.”
“You probably need sleep more than coffee.” He sat on the table beside her, their feet together on the bench.
“I do, but in a few minutes Freckles will be standing by the fence waiting for his feed and the cat will be out here on the porch meowing for her breakfast. By the time I get them fed, the workers who promised to come on a Saturday will be here. But if all goes according to plan, by the time the sun goes down, the rotten boards on the front porch will be replaced and the downstairs paint will be finished.”
Joe cupped the coffee between his two hands. “Your day makes mine look simple. I’ve got physical therapy this morning, but hopefully this afternoon I’ll be at the cabin, painting, too.”
“How’d your appointment go today?”
He shrugged, looking into his cup. “They’re not sure I’ll be able to get back to full strength. There was some nerve damage.” He cleared his throat. “They offered my stand-in a permanent position.”
“Oh, Joe, I’m sorry.” She grabbed his hand, gripped it.
He looked down at their intertwined fingers and ran his thumb over hers. “It’s... I kind of expected it, but I still have to try. You know? It’s what I do, who I am. So I have a couple of months, give or take, to get back to a hundred percent or I’m done on the team.”
“There’s more to you than you give yourself credit for, I think.” She paused. “Are you going to be okay?”
He blew out a breath, and when she glanced at him, he was staring across the pond to the cabin, where he and Amelia planned to live. “To be honest, I’m not sure. I’ve always had this reputation of calm under pressure. I mean, I got paid to handle stressful situations. To use my brain to figure out what makes people tick and talk them down. But all of this has me twisted up inside.”
“I get feeling out of control. Believe me.” The last few years had been an exercise in learning to trust that even if she didn’t understand why things were happening, God did. Helplessness, grief, loss, fear. She knew about those, too. “Whatever I can do to help, I will.”
“I know. And that means a lot.” He bumped shoulders with her one last time and stood up. “Amelia fell asleep facedown on the mattress still with her mucky boots on. Are you sure you don’t want me to take her back to Mom’s and bring her out later?”
Claire stood up and stretched her tired back. “Nah. Let her stay. She can sleep in and help me around here when she wakes up.”
His blue eyes narrowed. “Are you sure? I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
“Pish. Didn’t you hear the part when I said I was going to put her to work? Besides, you know she would be pestering Bertie about getting back out here to see the babies. And you already said she could.”
“Yeah, I did, didn’t I? All right, then. I’ll be done around noon. I’ll bring food when I come back. Like some apples or broccoli or something.”
“Ha-ha.” She threw her wadded-up cup at him and pointed to his truck. “Leave.”
He laughed—a real, genuine laugh—and a weird warm fuzzy feeling started in her stomach. Off-limits. Off-limits. Off-limits, she silently chanted to herself, but she smiled at him as he swung into the seat of his old truck.
She watched him drive down the long driveway and wave as he pulled out onto the highway. She picked up her crumpled cup and headed inside for a fresh cup of coffee, but her thoughts were still on Joe. He related to what she was doing here in a way that most people couldn’t. He was sexy and sweet and, wow, really wounded.
And despite all the denial and lecturing herself about what was acceptable?
She was totally falling for him.