Page 78 of Strike Zone

“Having fun yet?” Wyatt teases as he pets one of his goat friends. I am having fun. Despite the initial panic, there is something calming about being around the animals. Once the bucket is empty, Wyatt shows me how to check their water and the pens where they sleep and get shade.

“What are the goats for?” I ask, keeping one eye on the goat that is following me around. He’s really cute, but I know he just wants to eat my shorts.

“Dairy. We milk them every morning.”

“Do you sell the milk?”

“Sometimes. Goat milk can be a hard sell. Willow does take it up to the bakery on occasion.”

He continues the tour by showing me the cows, chickens, and horses. I have a list a mile long of all the things I want to research when we get back to the house. They have everything they need to turn this place around. I’m going to prove it to them. Prove it to Wyatt. I want to show him that he doesn’t have to play baseball if he doesn’t want to.

After dinner I begin to sift through the paperwork Faith left out for me. Occasionally one of Wyatt’s brothers would sit with me and tell me what they want to do with their portion of the farm if they had the chance. Each one of them has a vision for the future of the farm.

A future that I want to help them achieve.

When Wyatt sits beside me and drapes an arm around my chair while I research the benefits of free-range chickens, for a moment I see a future for us.

It’s unrealistic considering how different our paths are, but I see it. I feel it. And I don’t know how I’m going to let it go when it’s time.

20

WYATT

The bed is empty beside me. It’s not just empty, but cold. Did Wren not make it to bed last night? I left her downstairs in the dining room doing research on goat’s milk of all things.

She was in her element making lists and creating spreadsheets. My mom has given her access to all our financial records and our entire operation. I overheard her asking Ford and my dad what needed to be done every day to make the farm run efficiently.

My dad has really taken a shine to her. I’ll never forget the look on his face when they came flying up the bend to the barn.

I throw on some clothes and head downstairs. The house is quiet. Unusual for this time of day. Normally everyone is busy shoving food and coffee down their throats before heading out for their morning chores.

When I walk into the kitchen I see why. Half my family is gawking at Wren asleep at the table. The others are in the den staring at a wall of sticky notes like they’re at an art exhibit.

“Did she make it to bed?” Ford asks me.

I shake my head. “No, looks like she’s been at it all night.” I glance at some of the notes she’s made.

“Her ideas are good.” Colt nods and taps a finger on a notepad. “We can all get what we want.” I’m sure they are, but they also take money. Money we don’t have.

“And how do we accomplish,” I turn the paper in front of Colt, “opening a bakery right now? That’s money we don’t have. We can barely pay the mortgage and taxes on the land.”

“Wren’s working on a budget,” Ford says. I shake my head laughing quietly. Ford is pragmatic. Maybe more so than Wren. The fact that he thinks a budget as flimsy as the paper it’s written on will be the magic key is laughable.

“A budget still needs to be funded. Where is the money going to come from? Do we have a grove of money trees somewhere I don’t know about?”

“Keep it down. You’re going to wake her up,” Colt says. His comment infuriates me further. As if I didn’t have any concern for Wren’s well-being.

“All I’m saying is she’s smart. She’s broken down each item into tiny steps. Hence the sticky note shrine.” Ford chuckles.

“I know she’s smart,” I snap. It’s one of the things I like about her. “I’m taking her upstairs.” I slip one arm under her legs and the other around her back.

“I wasn’t finished,” she mumbles sleepily into my neck.

“You can work on it later. Right now you need to sleep.”

Once upstairs, I lay her down on the bed and tuck her under the fluffy, down blankets. “You have my brothers thinking you can save us.” I kiss her forehead then remove her glasses and put them on the table where she can find them later.

Maybe she can. She already has me believing in things I never thought I would. I guess I can try and hope for a financial miracle too.

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