Page 23 of Promised to the Cowboy

Maggie’s eyes shine. “Well,” she says softly. “There it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“Daniel would’ve made you a plan.” She ticks off a finger. “Ethan would’ve made you laugh, so you forgot to be scared for five minutes. Gabriel...” She smiles to herself. “Gabriel plants his feet.”

I think about him sitting beside me on the porch, hands clasped so tightly together they almost shook.

“He looked terrified.”

“Oh, honey.” Maggie reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. “Of course he did.”

“I am too.”

“I know.”

“I don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Nobody does.” Maggie laughs warmly. “Every first-time parent in history has looked around wondering who on earth thought they were qualified.”

I laugh a little.

“But fear’s got a bad reputation,” she continues. “People think courage means not being afraid. It doesn’t. Courage is deciding what’s more important than your fear.”

She pats my hand. “You know what Gabriel’s more afraid of than being a father?”

I shake my head.

“Becominghisfather.”

That answer doesn't surprise me, but it breaks my heart anyway.

“And that’s exactly why he won’t,” Maggie finishes firmly.

I bite my lip. “How can you be so sure?”

“Because that boy has spent thirty years paying attention.” She smiles, remembering. “He watched every place his daddy got it wrong. Every silence. Every missed birthday conversation. Every time he looked through Gabriel instead of at him.” She shakes her head. “Children learn from good parents, Evie. They also learn from broken ones.”

She squeezes my fingers again.

“Gabriel has been learning what kind of father he wants to be since he was old enough to notice what he wasn’t getting.”

My throat tightens.

“He doesn’t know it yet,” Maggie says softly, “but loving that baby won’t be the hard part for him.”

“What will?”

She smiles wistfully. “Believing that baby will love him back.”

I close my eyes, my heart aching for Gabriel.

Somewhere inside him, a little boy is still waiting for his father to tell him the day his mother died isn’t his fault.

I can’t give him that.

But maybe I can help him believe the rest.

After breakfast, I help Maggie clear the dishes. Through the kitchen window, I catch a glimpse of Gabriel crossing the yard toward the barn, broad shoulders flexing beneath his T-shirt.