“You havegoatto bekiddingme. We're trying to help you, Buck,” Zane hisses while he’s struggling to get the other horn to release. Once he does, Buck takes off as fast as he can, kicking and spitting as he runs away. “What an ungrateful grump.”
I move over to where Annabelle is standing and give her a wide smile when she notices me.
“Papaw Earl’s goat is silly,” she says.
Papaw Earl.
Why does hearing her call him that melt my heart?
Ryland smirks at me, as if reading my thoughts, and bends down to pick Annabelle up. She squeals with joy when Zane comes up behind them and gives her a tickle. As if my heart couldn’t melt any more.
“This is my baby girl, Annabelle,” Ryland says, cradling her into his arms like she’s a baby.
“I’m not a baby!” She giggles.
“You’ll always be his baby, and don’t you forget it,” Zane adds, pointing at his adorable niece.
“He’s right,” Ryland says before planting a kiss on her cheek and placing her down. “This is Daddy’s friend, Raine.”
I bend down to extend my hand toward her. “It’s nice to meet you.” She gives me a sweet smile and tugs my hand. “I love your braids. Did your Daddy fix your hair?”
She runs her tiny hands down her braids and looks up at Ryland. “Yup. I wanted to look like Anna fromFrozen.”
I look up at him, knowing he’s sharing the same memory asI am, before I add, “Your dad used to braid my hair when I was younger. It seems like he’s put those skills to good use.”
A pink tint seeps into Ryland’s cheeks, and my smile grows even more. Something warm and liquid bubbles inside my chest as I watch him bend down and give Annabelle a hug and kiss her cheek before walking over to where Zane is standing.
“Would you like to help me with some chores this morning?” I ask her.
Annabelle jumps up and claps her hands excitedly, and I wish I could say I have the same energy about doing farm chores. She’ll definitely make them more fun this morning. I look up to ask Ryland if it’s okay, but he’s already giving me a nod of approval.
“Let’s get to work, Zane.”
“Whatever floats yourgoat, bro,” Zane says as he bends down to pick up the toolbox he had set on the ground.
“That's enough with the goat puns,” Ryland grumbles before planting another kiss on top of Annabelle’s head and walking toward the house.
Scratch the whole lumberjack comment. Seeing Ryland Quinn as a father is the most attractive thing I’ve seen. If I could get away with it, I’d fan myself. My heart is in trouble.
Annabelle turned out to be the best little helper. She collected the eggs by herself, watered the garden, and helped me with the sheep. We collected strawberries and harvested some redbud blooms too. Now, we’re standing in the kitchen, waiting for water to boil in a pot so we can make redbud jelly.
It’s a sweet feeling, sharing a family tradition with Annabelle. She has been telling me stories of Mamaw and how they used to make art together with Ryland’s mother. Mamawtold me her own stories of Annabelle, but I had no idea how often she was around her. Hearing Annabelle share her memories brings me so much joy.
“You know. Mamaw and I used to make redbud jelly every spring. I always looked forward to the end of March to do this with her. We’d blast some music and sing and dance as we waited for the blooms to steep.”
Annabelle’s face lights up. “I want to have a dance party!”
“Well, show me your moves, then!”
We spend the next forty-five minutes dancing and singing and taking breaks to snack on strawberries dipped in homemade whipped cream. I tell Annabelle tales of growing up on the farm and how I loved the weekends when I could visit Ryland and his family. She stays quiet, listening, and laughing with me when I share something funny her father or uncle used to do.
I didn’t realize how healing it would be to share things with Annabelle about Mamaw as well as Ryland’s grandparents. It's a way to keep them alive. It’s also a sweet way to bond with her.
As we pour our mixture into jars, I tell her, “One time, I tried to make a double batch of jelly, but it turned out to be a big sticky mess. It was more like honey than jelly.”
“That still sounds yummy.”
“It was but not exactly what I was trying to make. I was so disappointed, but Mamaw Jo made me feel better by using the honey on some toast, and it still tasted delicious.” I smile at the memory. “She always had a way of finding the good in any situation.”
