Page 56 of His Eighth Ride

“You could hire more help,” he murmured. “Only work part-time on the farm. Have more babies.”

She grinned against his lips. “I think we have time to have more babies.”

“Yeah, we do, but he’s just so dang cute.”

Gerty looked at their son, and he was the most adorable thing in the world. Especially when he looked up at her, his brown eyes so wide and so innocent. “Ma-Ma-Ma-Ma,” he said almost in a whine. He held a block to his ear. “Eh-o. Eh-o.”

“He’s calling you,” Gerty said to Mike. “Call Daddy.”

“Dad, Dad, Dad,” West said.

Mike took a breath and let it all out. Then, because he was the best daddy in the world, he made the sound of a ringing phone. West’s whole face lit up, and he lifted the block again. “Eh-o?”

“Hello,” Mike said. “Is West there?”

“Weh, Weh, Weh,” he babbled, and he toddled away to get another toy. Gerty sighed and leaned against Mike again, so glad to have him home today, really glad they had found a way to make their busy lives work, and beyond glad that she was his and he was hers—and that they’d finally spoken to Opal.

Now, she just had to wait and see what Opal would decide.

Help her to see how perfect it would be, Gerty prayed, because she wasn’t above trying to get the Lord on her side.

“Okay,” she said the next day. “Are you streaming, baby?”

“Yep.” Mikey held up his phone, moving it slowly and steadily. “We’re live.”

Gerty grinned and picked up the birthday cake her grandmother had made. It had a single flaming candle in it, shaped like the number one. “All right,” she said. “Here we go.”

Opal had just finished snapping on West’s bib, and she moved out of the way as Gerty walked slowly around the kitchen island and toward his highchair. “Happy birthday to you,” she started to sing, glad when everyone else joined in.

It was a small party; her parents and half-siblings had come. Her uncle Matt and Aunt Gloria, though their girls were off doing something at the high school that night. Her grandparents, of course. Mike, Tag, Steele, and Opal. Cord and Jane.

So maybe not that small. But Mikey’s parents couldn’t be there, because it was a long drive for a five-minute thing where West would get help blowing out his candle and then mash his face into the chocolate cake. A long drive in the winter, where the wind blew against the glass, angry it could not get to the flame and snuff it out.

The song finished as Gerty set the cake—a miniature of the one Grams had made for everyone else—in front of West. He stared at it with wonder, and Gerty’s heart filled with love time and again. And then again.

In that moment, Gerty realized how God felt about her. About all of His children. She’d thought she’d fail at being a mother, that she wasn’t nurturing enough, that she couldn’t tolerate crying over silly things. And she really couldn’t. But that didn’t mean she didn’t love West completely—and exactly how he needed to be loved.

“You blow it out, baby.” She bent down and looked right at him. He looked back at her with complete trust in those big eyes. “Momma will help you, okay?”

He started to reach for the flame, and Gerty held up her hand to protect him from it. “No, you don’t touch it, West. You blow on it. Watch.” She gave a quick puff of air, and the flame went right out. West flinched backward.

A thin stream of smoke lifted from the candle, and Gerty giggled as Opal handed her the lighter again. “Okay,” she said. “Your turn.” She relit the candle and smiled at her son. Maybe she did want another baby.

Most days, though, Gerty could barely operate under the guilt of leaving West with Opal while she tended to chickens, horses, fences, and fields. How would she deal with walking out on two children every single day?

So maybe she wasn’t ready for another baby.

“Blow on it,” she coached gently.

West leaned toward it, and at least he didn’t try to grab the moving, dancing, flickering entity. He opened his mouth and did what Gerty had done, but not enough air came out. So Gerty extinguished the flame for him and clapped her hands. “Happy birthday, baby.”

Everyone else cheered, and Mikey brought over the phone. “Look, Westy,” he said. “Say hi to Grandma and Grandpa.” He held the phone for West, who took it in his chubby hand. It weighed more than one of his toy blocks, but he managed to lift it right up to his nose.

“Eh-o,” he said, his favorite thing to do.

“Hello,” Wes and Bree said on the other end of the call. “Is this West? The birthday boy?” Bree sniffled, and Gerty’s emotions got yanked left and right too.

“Weh,” he said. “Ma-Ma.” He almost threw the phone as he pointed it at Gerty. “Dad-Daddy.”

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