“Come on, Mommy,” Robbie called from the barn. “Hurry! The lamb is hungry!”
“We’re coming.” Tom led them to a little pen he’d made inside the barn, opening the gate for Robbie to step inside. Tom crouched down, wincing slightly as if his leg felt stiff. He showed Robbie how to hold the bottle. The lamb dropped to its front knees to suck, its white tail whirling like a flag in the wind.
Don’t cry, Eve told herself as she watched them. Whatever you do, don’t let Tom see your tears. He would ask about them and she would have to pour out her story. “What happened to the lamb’s mother?” Eve asked instead.
“The ewe had twins and rejected the smaller one,” he replied. Robbie giggled as the lamb pushed against the bottle, guzzling greedily. Her son needed this, needed Tom’s strong arms around him, teaching him things only a father could. She wouldn’t let Audrey take this from him.
“Hey! He drank it all!” Robbie said a few minutes later. “Can we give him another bottle, Uncle Tom?”
“No more until lunchtime, I’m afraid.” Tom ruffled Robbie’s hair as they both stood. “And the lamb is a girl, not a boy. What do you think we should call her?”
“Um . . .”
“You don’t have to decide right now. Think it over and let me know.”
“Okay.” He handed the empty bottle to Tom and ran out into the sunlight with Tom’s dog.
“We need to go home,” Eve said. “Thanks so much for letting him do this.”
“What’s your hurry?”
“My visitors are still here. But I wanted to apologize again for yesterday.”
“There’s really no need . . . Are you all right, Audrey? You seem—”
“I’m fine.” She felt tears burning and fought them back. “Just tired. We got up much earlier than we usually do.”
“Cloudy!” Robbie suddenly shouted. “The lamb’s name is Cloudy because she looks like a cloud.”
“Cloudy it is,” Tom said with a grin.
Eve used the twenty-minute drive home to rehearse what she would say to Audrey, barely listening to Robbie chatter on and on about Uncle Tom’s dog and the new lamb. Audrey was sitting in the living room, her son asleep on her lap, when Eve arrived. She looked rumpled and bleary-eyed, as if she hadn’t slept well either.
“I fed Uncle Tom’s lamb,” Robbie announced in a loud voice. “He said I could name her anything I wanted, so I called her Cloudy ’cause that’s what she looks like. Wanna come out to the farm and see her?” he asked Audrey’s son, who had awakened. He shook his head.
“Have you eaten?” Eve asked. “Would you like breakfast? I can fix some toast or eggs . . .”
“Neither of us are hungry,” Audrey replied.
“Maybe some tea, then?”
“We need to talk, Eve.”
She couldn’t stall any longer. Eve sat down on the sofa, perched on the very edge, and drew a deep breath. “Listen, Audrey. If you need money, you can have all of Robert’s life insurance money and the trust fund his parents set up. All of it, if you’ll just—”
“If I just what?”
“Go back home. Please, I’m begging you!”
“I told you, I don’t have a home.”
“Then I’ll sell this house and give you the money to buy one. And I’ll send you more money every month, as much as you need—”
“I don’t care about the money, Eve. I didn’t come here for the money. My son is Robert’s child, and he deserves to know his grandparents and to have a real family. I don’t have any family left and—”
“Neither do I! All I have are the people I’ve grown to know and love here. Please, let Robbie and me get on with our lives. He loves all these people, too.”
“I know what happened to your family back home, Eve, and I’m so sorry for you. But this is my son’s family, not yours. I want Bobby to grow up surrounded by them, celebrating his birthdays with them, Christmastimes.”
“And I want the same thing for my son!” And for herself. How many times had Eve started all over, forging a new life when the old one ended? She couldn’t do it again. The loss would undo her. She cleared her throat, forcing herself to talk quietly so she wouldn’t upset the boys. “I’m sorry, Audrey, but you can’t have this life back. It’s too late. We’re settled here. I’m sure we can figure out a different plan for you, a different road to take—”