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“She means her butt.” Camdyn swings the door to the refrigerator closed. It rattles with the clanking of the beer bottles inside.
“Oh. Uh.” And before I can help her out, she sits down on the floor and wiggles around, effectively itching her bunny like a dog would.
“I need help,” Camdyn notes, grunting as she tries to place the eggs and milk on the counter.
“Be right there.” I make my way over to Camdyn, and we proceed to make pancakes. It’s while we’re eating them and the girls are being silly snorting syrup, giggling over the cat getting it on his paws, and freaking out that I realize this is the best morning I’ve had in years. They’re everything pure and good. Innocent. And so unlike their mother. I’m convinced they take after Barron.
After breakfast, the girls get dressed and stand in front of me.
“Do you like goats?”
“Like a goat?” I raise an eyebrow. “A real goat?”
The girls stare at one another. Sev shrugs, trying to get the stocking hat on her head. Camdyn’s brow furrows. Maybe she’s thinking she should help her sister, or she’s wondering why I don’t know what a goat is. Or both. “Yeah?”
I nod. “Of course I want to see a goat. Are they friendly?”
“Theys our pets,” Sev tells me, still struggling with her hat. Finally, she rips it off and throws it on the ground, then steps on it.
“Do you need help?”
Her scrunched, angry brow softens when I kneel next to her. “Yes, ma’am.”
Can I keep them? Can they be mine? Please?
I help her get her hat on. “There you go. Now show me these goats then,” I say, reaching for my scarf. This city girl is going to be country for a day.
Dressed as though we’re heading to the Antarctic and probably too many layers for the girls, we head outside to brave the cold. The wind whips my face the instant we’re outside, and I squint at the harshness. So much for sunshine and palm trees. “Is it always this windy here?”
Camdyn shrugs, her eyes on the snow and the hair peeking out from under her stocking cap blowing in her face. “Yep.”
“Where are these goats?”
“At the barn.” Camdyn points toward what looks to be a barn across from the shop. I’ve learned from the girls this morning that Barron’s dad, stepmom, aunt, and brother all live on the Grady Ranch. It’s divided up in sections, and in the middle is a fully operational ranch that’s been in the Grady family for over a hundred years. “The barn is next to Papa B’s house. I’ll show you.”
Sev is beside me, still itching her arms and face. I kneel next to her and zip her jacket. “Are you sure you’re okay?” I feel her forehead, thinking maybe she’s getting sick. Barron said she threw up last night. She’s warm but not hot. Crap. Maybe I should find Barron and ask him what to do.
“I fine.” Sev frowns and then sneezes right in my face. It’s not the first time I’ve been sneezed on, but her reaction is a first for me. “Oh, bless your heart,” she says, wiping the spit off my face.
I don’t know whether to laugh or squeeze the shit out of her.
“That’s gross,” Camdyn says, staring at her sister as if she’s disgusting.
“I not gross,” Sev grumbles, shoving her sister right into the snow piled up next to the covered wraparound porch. A white puff of frost and snow burst from the ground as her body hits the ground.
“You dummy,” Camdyn growls, getting her footing and acting as if she’s going to murder her sister for shoving her.
Oh dear. I pick her up and separate the two of them from going WWF on each other. “Show me these goats.”
Thankfully the mention of goats distracts them.
Trudging through the thick powdery snow, the girls tell me about the goats and how they’ve named them. “Mine is Cruella,” Sev says, holding my right hand.
Camdyn tugs on my left hand, swinging it with each step, her heart-warming brown eyes on the fluffy white banks around us with determination. “And mine is Elsa. She’s all white, and I think she freezes the other ones.”
“I can’t wait to meet them.” Watching my feet, the snow beneath us glitters under the sun shining down. The snow is nothing like I imagined it to be. It’s powdery frozen balls, like walking through a field ofDippin’ Dots. The trees and fence posts pathing our way across the property are clothed in white like something out of a wintry fairy tale. I know one thing. I’m not dressed for this kind of weather. I have the proper gear I thought was necessary. Hat, jacket, scarf, boots… but I forgot gloves, and I’m holding the kids’ hands. To have them wanting to hold my hand is worth the possibility of frostbite, and dethawing my fingers seems worth it. I also realize my Patagonia puff jacket is meant for looks. Not warmth. The guy at REI lied to me because my nipples are about to chip off. Or maybe my nipple rings are frozen, and it’s making it worse. Kinda like sticking your tongue to a frozen pole.
In the distance, I can see the large blue barn with a massive Grady’s Ranch metal sign on the outside. Bathed in white, it bursts to life—grand, enticing, and exactly what I imagined a barn to look like. “That’s a big barn.”