Page 35 of The Cowboy and the Baby

Noelle bustled at the sink, the comforting clink of dishes and smell of soap in the air. I lowered into a chair, polished off the buttery piece of heaven, and stared at the pouring snow as I considered the bathroom discovery. I must have existed in the stupor for longer than I realized, because her hand touched my shoulder.

“Cade?”

“Hmm?”

“Everything okay?”

I laughed; I couldn’t help it. “Fine,” I said quickly, then added, “but . . . confounding.”

Noelle lowered into the seat across from mine, leaned back, stretched her legs out, set her hands in her hoodie pocket. A slight, reddish tint heightened the color on her cheeks. She peeked out from under a hoodie she’d pulled over her head.

“I’m a good listener.”

“We’ve tripled our workload.”

She listened without interruption while I clipped through a brief and haphazard explanation of the hole, the animal, the access to outside, and the door-walls that would stymy any old rancher.

When I finished, she did the last thing I expected.

She burst out laughing.

Hand over her mouth, eyes squeezed shut, her belly laugh rolled into the room until it felt like Christmas had arrived early. The snow ceased to exist, the smell of fresh bread wafted away, and all I knew in that moment was Noelle and the delight she brought into a horrible situation.

Eyes streaming from the hilarity, she swiped them free with the back of her hand.

“That’s amazing.”

At a loss for words, I could only run my tongue over my teeth. Amazing wasn’t what I’d say, but the Cowboy Code prevented me from stating the words I felt.

Noelle pulled herself together, but the amusement didn’t leave her eyes.

“I imagine this is frustrating and quite unexpected for you, Cade, but it will be fun to work through together. We’ll just . . . add it to our list, I guess.”

A cry from the other room interrupted her courage-giving speech. I wasn’t afraid of the renovations and changes. I was irritated, but I didn’t want to break her moment of hilarity.

She stood slowly.

“I think it’s time for Lily to eat, and then I’m going to head to bed, too. I’m pretty tired and a little . . . off. I don’t know. Let me know if I can do anything to help in the meantime, Cade.”

She stopped, set a hand on my shoulder, and added, “And thanks for working so hard to figure that out.”

Like a ghost, she departed.

A tinny cry woke me around four that morning.

I stumbled off the couch, narrowly avoided smacking myself on the corner of the coffee table, and hurried into the hallway. Only half awake, I realized that the cry was Lily. She wasn’t sleeping with Noelle in the master bedroom, but one of the side rooms.

Noelle’s lumpy form lay on her bed, the shadows fitting the curves and contours of her hips and shoulders. Normally, she woke up whenever Lily made a sound, but she didn’t look any kind of ready to rouse.

Should I wake her?

Let her sleep? We hadn’t encountered this situation before. Noelle always bounced to life at the slightest rustle from Lily. The pronounced bags under her eyes before she made it to bed held me back, because Lily had been very fussy. She didn’t eat well at her midnight feeding, and it took over an hour for Noelle to rock her to sleep. Recalling the struggle, I turned into Lily’s room and picked her up.

Whatever Noelle and I were, she trusted me.

It was too dark for a baby to see me, I imagined, so when I mimicked the bounce-swing motion I’d watched Noelle execute, Lily calmed right down. She was a hot little bundle. When I pressed my palm to her forehead, it brightened with heat.

A fever.