Page 29 of The Forever Formula
Mom held up the blue bulb syringe. “Check.”
I nodded. “Good. Sometimes they need a little help getting the gunk out.”
After a few more minutes of Marice looking around wildly like she was processing what was happening, it was time. Two little gray hooves poked out, and I held the towel ready in wait. In less than a minute, the baby goat slipped out, and I eased it to the ground.
“Just got to wipe the nose in a downward motion,” I told Rachel as I demonstrated. I listened carefully for any indication the baby was able to breathe, but as the kid thrashed around, I knew that probably meant it needed suction.
Before I could even ask, Rachel was kneeling in the dirt next to me with the syringe in hand. She depressed the ball, and I held the kid’s head as Rachel stuck the syringe up the nose and throat, clearing them of fluid.
By this time, Marice was turned around and delicately licking and making soft noises as she fervently cleaned the kid. Finally, the little one bleated a sweet sound.
“It’s so cute,” Rachel said, cooing at the sight.
She was completely right, of course. It was a sweet sight to see Marice with her first kid. She knew just what to do as a goat mama.
After Marice did a bit of cleaning and we all took a break nearby, she was ready for us again. The next baby came out easier, and this time Rachel helped ease it out. Whatever hesitation she had earlier was long gone.
Marice started her cleaning ritual once more as this baby quickly snorted and coughed its airway free.
“The first kid is trying to stand.” Mom pointed to the now fluffy-looking white baby kid. Its little legs were making a big effort to try to carry it toward its mother to feed.
“This is incredible,” Rachel said, her voice filled with awe.
I threw an arm around her shoulders. “Thank you for coming.”
When she didn’t reply, my mind started to spin all sorts of fantasies about working my farm alongside Rachel. If she stayed, if she really forgave me for our plans to buy her out.
After four kids were born, Mom invited Rachel to dinner, and to my surprise, she said yes. I was sure she’d still be furious at Austen. That’s not to say she wasn’t, but at least she was willing to ignore him and give the other Hart family members a chance.
It filled me with more emotion than I was expecting. I guessed the past had much more of a hold on me than I’d been willing to admit until recently.
Rachel left to shower and clean up. But she came back an hour later, just as we were setting the table.
• • •
In the best stroke of luck today, Austen wasn’t home for dinner.
Mom had made her famous shish kebabs, complete with pineapple, mushrooms, peppers, onion, chicken, beef, and shrimp. She piled rice high in bowls on the table as we gathered round, stomachs rumbling, as we waited for Rachel.
At two minutes after six, she knocked on the door.
“You’re late,” my mom said, only half joking.
“Am I? Sorry, Natalie.” Rachel blushed, craning her neck to see the clock on the wall.
“She’s fine.” Dottie strode over and wrapped her in a hug. “How you been, kiddo?”
“Good. How about you, Dottie?” she managed to say, even though Gran was probably squeezing all the air from her lungs.
Logan popped up next from the table and shook her hand, at the urging of my mom. Logan had only been nine when Rachel moved away. He was my mom’s menopause baby, as she liked to call him, much to his chagrin.
Anyway, I doubt he remembered much about Rachel, especially because we always made it a point to leave him behind. After all, he was so young, and we were teenagers, too cool for our own shadows.
Taking my place in line, I gave her a quick hug too.
“We just saw each other,” she said skeptically.
“Just confirming that I’m still in your good graces,” I said under my breath so Mom wouldn’t get wise to our tiff.
