Page 112 of Growing Into Love

“I don’t even know why I’m bothering,” she mutters. “Not like I can afford the supplies to build it anyway.”

“You know,” I say, hoping to cheer her up a bit, “I got a lead on a horse down near Middlesborough. An old breeding mare who can’t foal anymore.”

Cass’s nostrils flare. “So they want to put her down, right?”

“I think she’d be perfect for Sarah’s Sanctuary. I can give you the owner’s number.”

“Thanks, Jaz,” Cass says. I hand her a rod and she shoves it into the ground. She doesn’t look too pleased.

“Hey,” I say gently. “Talk to me.”

“It’s fine,” Cass says as she stomps several feet away and holds her hand out for another rod.

“It’s not,” I say. “What’s going on? I thought you’d be happy to hear about the horse.”

“Where am I going to put her, Jaz?” Cass cries. “The barn wasn’t meant to take so long. Why’s it got to be so rainy? Why’d the lumber shipment get screwed up? And even when I do get the barn finished, what do I do about this fence? How am I meant to keep the horses safe and on the property? It’s a thousand quid for the supplies. I can build the damn fence myself. But I’m stretched to the limit. I don’t have a thousand quid to spare. Everything’s gone to the construction. I’ve barely got enough left over to feed the horses.”

Her eyes fill with tears and my heart wrenches. She’s been working so hard. “Why don’t you ask Autumn?” I suggest. “The Born to the Land foundation could help, right?”

Her eyes flash. “I don’t want to ask Autumn!” she cries. “I want to do this myself.” She holds out her hand for another rod and I offer it silently. I know not to push Cass when she’s dug her heels in. My brain whirs, trying to think of solutions. We make the fence line in silence for a while.

“When’s our next appointment?” Cass asks.

“Theresa’s going to the doctor next week,” I remind her. “We’re going to finally find out the sex of the baby.”

“Oh,” Cass says, her eyes going wide. I can’t tell if she’s excited or not. I’ve been looking forward to this for weeks. I really don’t care about the sex either way—it’ll make things more real though. One step closer to meeting my son or daughter.

Theresa’s been pretty stressed about it. I think she’s worried it’s going to be a girl and that will somehow perpetuate the cycle of her own childhood.

“I’m going to pop over this afternoon and drop off an antihistamine for Theresa,” I say. “She’s been feeling nauseous lately and Craig told me she’s been having trouble eating.”

Cass raises an eyebrow. “Are you two chatting about her behind her back? You know how crazy she is about keeping everything on the group text.”

Theresa’s natural organizational tendencies have grown a bit more confining as her due date looms. Cass has been great about rolling with the punches.

“He only mentioned it last weekend when we were watching the match,” I say.

“You guys are too cute,” she says, grinning and rolling her eyes. “Football buddies.”

My phone rings. It’s Mrs. Pritz.

“Jasar, I think there’s something wrong with Godiva,” she says, her voice panicked. “She’s been throwing up all morning and she’s got the poos.”

I’m instantly on alert. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Pritz, I’m on my way,” I say then hang up.

“What’s wrong?” Cass asks.

“Godiva’s really sick,” I say.

Cass gasps. “Oh no.”

“I’m so sorry, Cass, I’ve got to go,” I say, handing her back the rods.

“Of course,” she says.

“Shit,” I mutter. “Theresa’s antihistamine.”

“I’ll take it over to her,” Cass says.

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