Page 56 of Sometimes You Stay

They settled into the silence, listening to Bella shift and snort as she tried to find a comfortable position. Finn got up to check on her every now and then, rubbing her head and ears and speaking softly to her. “You’re a good girl. You’re doing great.” She looked up and licked his hand, and he pushed her water bowl closer to her.

When he settled back down beside Cretia, he said, “We probably have about an hour if you want to get some rest.”

“No. I’m fine.” But her head lolled against the fleece of his jacket. “How do you know how long it will be?”

He lifted the shoulder under her ear. “Bella and I have done this a couple times. And Maisey and Serena and Sunshine and Sadie too.”

“How old were you the first time you helped?”

He paused, narrowing his gaze as he pictured a long-ago scene in this very room. “I’m not sure I was much help that first time. Or the second or third. My mom said I needed to stay in bed, but everything in the barn was way too exciting for a six-year-old. So I pulled on my coat and hat and boots and raced out here. I think I had to go back inside half a dozen times just to use the bathroom.” He chuckled at the memory. “And I eventually fell asleep before Delilah had her pups.”

“Delilah? As in Samson’s downfall?”

“Yeah, my mom was on a kick to use names from the Bible, and that litter was mostly girls. It was either going to be Delilah or Sapphira, who I think was struck dead in the book of Acts.”

“Sure, well, when that’s your other option...” Cretia chuckled. “So you missed the big event?”

“But I kept coming back. When I was in high school, I skipped out after lunch one day to be here for Sadie.”

“And your mom...?”

“Threatened to make me sleep in the barn if I ever did that again. Didn’t matter that I was a foot taller than her by then. Or that it was clear the business would be mine one day.”

“Sleeping in the barn doesn’t sound so bad.” She snuggled against his arm and pulled her jacket a little tighter, her eyes drifting shut.

“Sure. In May. With a blanket.” He tossed a soft throw across their laps and tucked it around them both, fighting off the night chill even at this time of year. “It was February. There was a foot of snow on the ground, and the barn wasn’t nearly as cozy as it is now.”

“You did that, didn’t you? Made it cozy?” She looked up in his direction, and he gave her only a grin in response. “Were you afraid your mom was really going to make you sleep out here?”

“Let’s just say that wasn’t the last time I skipped school to watch after the dogs.”

“I’m not surprised, but ... why?”

Her question wasn’t accusatory or belittling, just genuinely curious. It deserved a real answer. One he wasn’t quite sure he had handy.

“I mean, it’s clear that you love these animals, that you’re proud of them and raise them with care. I hardly see you out here cleaning stalls and pens, but they always look nearly spotless. Which means you’re probably out here before the sun comes up. And clearly, you’re willing to spend your nights out here too.” She motioned to their current predicament.

After a long pause, she angled her head to meet his gaze. “I guess it’s the same question. Why?”

“I don’t suppose I could get away with saying it’s because it’s what my father did and my grandfather before him. And his father before him. It’s in my blood and my bones.”

“You could say that. And I would know it’s part of the truth.”

Leaning his head against the wall at his back, he stared into the wooden rafters for a long second. Cretia’s body shivered, and he looked down at her. “Are you cold?”

“Uh-uh.”

He stretched his arm around her shoulders anyway, hugging her close, savoring the warmth she provided, the ability to just sit with her. She didn’t push or cajole, and she seemed to understand that he needed some time to collect his thoughts, to admit them to himself.

“I’ve always loved animals. Of all kinds. Not that I don’t like people, but animals are easier. They don’t ask for or expect anything. Just food and water and the occasional scratch on the head. You can train them—well, most of them—and teach them, and they’re all motivated by the same thing.”

“Treats.”

He chuckled. “Yes. It’s easy to know how to make them happy. It’s harder to know how to please people.”

“Like who? It seems like everyone around here loves you. I’m pretty sure Marie thinks of you as her little brother, and everyone leans on you. Is it hard to be the reliable one?”

“No. Not really. I like that they can count on me, that they call me when there’s an animal in need of a home or someone needs help moving a piano or something.” He sighed, trying to internally process what he wanted to say. But the words just slid out. “There’s an expectation that comes with that. When you’re the dependable one, people expect you tobedependable. To always show up. To make the situation better than it was.”

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