“March fifth,” she said.
“How will I know what you want?”
Briar jumped to her feet. “I forgot the tongs.”
She hurried into the kitchen and opened the same drawer where she had gotten out the whisk and the rubber spatula. When she returned, she pressed in close to Tarr and picked up his plate.
“You just go in, cowboy,” she said. “This is messy, hole-in-the-wall, Canadian food, and it’s delicious.”
“When do I get to open my present?”
“Later.” She put plenty of French fries and cheese curds—all of it dripping with the beef gravy—on his plate and slid it in front of him. “It’s a pretty salty dish, but I think you’ll love it.”
Tarr looked up at her and swept his black cowboy hat off his head. “It smells amazing, Briar. Thank you so much.”
He hooked his arm around her waist again and pulled her into him, pressing his whole head against her ribs. She balanced the tongs in the bucket and went around the table to sit down across from him.
“Did you want to pray?” she asked.
Tarr had already stabbed a bit of shredded beef and a French fry, and he raised his eyes to hers. “Sure, we can pray.”
Briar nodded, so much saliva in her mouth she had to swallow. “I’d like to try, if you don’t mind.”
“Absolutely not.” Tarr wouldn’t look away from her, but Briar squished her eyes closed and dropped her chin. She could still feel him watching her, which annoyed her a little bit. She pushed that away and tried to focus on how she felt and what she wanted to say to God.
“Dear Heavenly Father,” she said, the words still not quite lining up. “We come before Thee on a very special day and thank Thee for the bounteous blessings that we enjoy here on the farm. I’m personally grateful for the health of the animals and a good cabin to live in, and Wiggins—though I told Tarr he could have him for the evening. He loves that dog, Lord, and bless him that he’ll get a lot of joy out of the gift of sleeping with him tonight.
“I’m grateful that the poutine turned out pretty good, and please bless Tarr to pretend to like it if he doesn’t. After all, it’s just food and it won’t poison him, even if itishis birthday and he should have everything he wants.”
Briar gave herself a little shake, as her prayer had definitely gone off the rails. “Anyway, I’m—no,we’rereally grateful for everything Thou hast given us, and we ask Thee to bless the food and bless us to do good and to find a way through the things that trouble us to the other side of them, where we can find happiness and peace and joy with ourselves, with each other, and with Thee.”
Briar’s throat felt like she’d swallowed a handful of nails. “Amen,” she managed to push out, and everything in her body relaxed as she opened her eyes and lifted her head. She pulled her hands back off the table and tucked them between her knees as she looked at Tarr.
“Amen,” he said, plenty of sincerity and punch in his tone. “That was a really beautiful prayer, Briar. I’m not going to have to pretend to like this. It’s French fries and beef, for crying out loud.”
“Still,” she said, and she watched him put his first bite of poutine in his mouth.
He groaned in an over-exaggerated way and tipped his head back.
“Okay, you don’t have to overdo it.” Briar reached for the tongs so she could serve herself a heaping helping of poutine too.
“I’m not exaggerating,” Tarr said. “You’re right—it’s salty, but it’ssooogood.”
He went right in for another bite, spearing a cheese curd with his fries and gravy this time. Briar did the same, pure satisfaction driving through her that he liked what she’d made him for his birthday lunch.
Her own stomach growled just as she put her first bite in her mouth, and the creamy, hot gravy coated her tongue with its salty, savory goodness. The French fry added the right texture—crisp and creamy at the same time—and the cheese curd squeaked against her teeth.
“Oh, I’ve forgotten how much I love this stuff.” She wanted to shovel the food into her mouth with both fists, but she carefully arranged another bite, this one with a hefty shred of beef to go with her potatoes and cheese. After she finished that bite, she looked across the table to Tarr again.
“It would be great if you could give me your top three movies,” she said. “And I’ll see where we can stream them for our movie afternoon.”
Tarr grinned at her. “You’ll watch anything I want?”
Briar’s first reaction was to say no, of course not. They could find something they both liked, couldn’t they? But she forced herself to casually shrug one shoulder. “It’s your birthday, cowboy.”
“Did you get everything you wanted on your birthday growing up?” he asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “My mom and dad would take me wherever I wanted to eat, and we’d do whatever I wanted that day. From the time I was one until the time I was eighteen, they got me the same number of presents as my age, which I might have done for you if I’d had ample time to prepare.”
