Page 25 of Heartland

“Oh no!” That’s when it clicks. Leah is pregnant again.

“Oh yes,” Leah says with a sigh from a few yards away.

“Wow.” I push the curtain aside and climb to my feet.

“You okay, honey?” Isaac calls.

“I will be,” she says as the toilet flushes. “A few months from now.”

Isaac winks at me as I reenter the kitchen. “We’re pretty excited, but Maeve doesn’t know,” he whispers under his breath.

“When?” I mouth.

“May,” he says quietly.

The oven timer dings. “Will Leah eat breakfast?”

“Absolutely,” he says. “Whether she keeps it down is an open question.”

When Leah emerges from the bathroom, Isaac wraps her into a hug. My throat feels a little tight, and I have to swallow hard. They deserve this happiness.

I suppose we all do.

* * *

By eight, I’m at the Shipley farm up the road. That’s the thing about farmers—you can visit as early as you want, and nobody thinks it’s weird.

And I know just where to find Dylan. When I step into the dairy barn, I spot him kneeling on the floor, having a chat with Jacquie the goat.

“Look,” he murmurs. “I need a favor. And I wouldn’t ask, but it’s kind of important.”

Jacquie turns her pointy chin in his direction, ears flopping, and assesses him with her odd brown eyes. Goats have a strange rectangular pupil. And—unlike me—Jacquie seems unmoved by Dylan’s handsome face. She returns her attention back to the alfalfa he’s left for her in the feed holder.

“No, really,” he argues, his big hand rhythmically squeezing her udder, releasing the last few drops of milk into a shiny stainless pail. “You have to do a better job of staying inside the fence, or Griffin is going to make me sell you. Nobody wants that. You might end up down the road at the Mittson place. And I heard there are trolls under their bridge.”

Jacquie snorts, and I nearly do, too. I know that eavesdropping is rude, but he’s so cute that I stand there a moment longer.

With the kind of smooth movement that’s meant to keep an animal calm, Dylan covers the milk pail and then lifts Jacquie’s foot off the floor. She’s still munching away as he lifts the trimming shears and quickly snips the front edge of her overgrown hoof.

“That’s a girl,” he whispers. “You should be so lucky to get a pedicure this early on a Saturday. Other goats would be jealous.”

She turns her head, considering the idea.

“Big plans for your Saturday?” he asks her. “A little foraging, and climbing on tires? Some gossip with Jill, maybe? Stay in the fence, okay? There will be lots of kids here picking apples today. Loud ones, the kind who pull on ears.”

I finally clear my throat, and both Jacquie and Dylan whip around to spot me. “Sorry to interrupt,” I say. And I chuckle because I can’t help myself.

“Hi,” he says, flashing me the kind of smile that makes me feel melty inside. “How long have you been standing there?”

“Long enough to worry about trolls down the road,” I admit. “Which bridge should I avoid?”

“They don’t eat humans,” he says, going back to Jacquie’s hooves. “Only naughty goats. How come you’re up so early?”

“I’m always up this early. I already had breakfast, and I’m ready to sell apples. I’ll drive the pony cart if you want.”

He looks up in surprise. “Really? I hate that job.”

I know that, silly. “I don’t mind helping out.”