Page 81 of Single All the Way

“What are you doing out here? Am I in trouble?” I asked.

“Not at all,” she said as she reached me and gave Nugget a pat. “Just wanted to check on you and talk a bit without little ears around.”

“Are the kids done with the chickens?”

“They’re back inside. I’ve got them up in Evelyn’s room wrapping their presents for you. I told them I was going to come divert you,” she said with a conspiratorial grin.

“That sounds a little daunting for me,” I tried to joke. She’d given me space so far, but I’d caught a couple of concerned looks when she thought I wasn’t paying attention.

Once I’d set down the cat bowls, I walked over to Smoky’s stall and rubbed his neck the way he liked. Berty came over to Smoky’s other side and did the same. Nugget was sniffing something near the hay bales I’d brought down.

“How are you doing, Ben?” she asked in a tone that said this wasn’t small talk.

My answer was a quiet scoff and an “I’m fine.”

“That’s a bunch of hooey, and you know it.”

“I’m a grown man. I can handle a disappointment.” As if sensing I needed support, Nugget trotted over and sat on her haunches at my side. I reached down and patted her head.

“I know you can,” she said, relocating to my other side and putting a caring hand on my arm that rested on the stall wall. “I just wish you didn’t have to.”

“Me too, Berty. Me too.”

“She’s been through a lot, I know, but running away’s never the answer.”

I grunted in agreement. I didn’t want to talk about the woman who’d broken my heart—again.

“Are you going to tell her you love her?” she asked.

“What makes you think I love her?”

“You do. I can tell. Are you going to deny that?”

Could a mannothave secrets from his seventy-four-year-old grandmother? Apparently not when she was in his house every day helping him care for his children.

Nugget nosed my denim-covered leg as if urging me to level with Berty.

“I already told her how I feel,” I finally admitted. “It didn’t do any good. Maybe only served to push her away.”

Berty nodded slowly. “She’s a skittish one.”

I laughed at the word I most often used to describe a horse. “She’s been through a lot of loss in her life. It leaves scars.”

“It sure does.”

Smoky poked his head over to Berty, nuzzling her hand in search of a treat.

“I got nothing for you, boy,” she said.

I narrowed my eyes. “Why would he think you might have a treat for him?”

“I surely don’t know.”

“Have you been sneaking apples out here? Carrots?”

A grin stretched across Berty’s face. “You give those llamas cookies. A carrot here and there for these beauties won’t hurt.”

“You softie.”

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