“I can bring a jacket, just in case.”
She smirks before she disappears down the hallway, leaving me to sip my coffee and start my morning rosary. I’m just finishing up the last decade when she returns, a light layer of makeup coloring her face now.
“You don’t need to do that, you know,” I say as I place my mug in the sink.
“Do what?”
“The makeup.”
She sighs. “I know we’re going to be outside, but?—”
“No. I mean, like, ever. I don’t know why you bother,” I tell her.
She shrugs and slides her feet into her boots. “It’s kind of like the frilly pajamas, I guess.”
“The overalls and the chest waders look just as feminine on you.”
She shoots me a side-eyed glare before she grabs a jacket from a hook. “You would say that,” she mumbles and gestures for us to go, and I get another dirty look when I open the passenger door of my truck for her.
The first few minutes of the drive are quiet until she teases me for adhering to the speed limit. After that, she asks about my family and the farm, and I’m still rambling on about our life on the homestead as I pull into the driveway.
My parents are waiting to greet us in the kitchen, my mom pulling Claire into a hug with an insistence that we have some of the breakfast she’s set out for us and my dad punctuating his embrace by complimenting Claire’s tattoo sleeve. My brother and his family walk in afew minutes later, and I introduce Claire to Heath and his wife Naomi as we pile eggs, bacon, and biscuits onto our plates.
“I don’t suppose you mind riding on one of these?” my dad asks Claire and gestures to the UTV parked out back, once we’ve eaten enough to satisfy my mom, of course.
She smirks at him and takes off walking, and I’m grateful when Heath helps his oldest two kids into the back seat, leaving Claire to fall in between my dad and me. Her lips are still turned up in a faint smile when my dad automatically reaches up to drape an arm over the seat behind her, though I’m admittedly a little jealous.
He takes the scenic route so he can play the tour guide, stopping every so often to elaborate on a feature of the small-scale farm and answering Claire’s follow-up questions before giving her an affectionate pat on the shoulder and taking off again. We finally pull up in front of the massive barn that serves as a shelter for both the animals and their feed, as well as some of the smaller farm implements, and Claire turns another wide grin to me when I offer to help her out of the side-by-side. Her cheeks are rosy from the drive, and a few more wisps of her hair have worked their way loose. And she’s so beautiful out here in her element that I forget how to breathe for a moment.
Dad leads us past the horse stalls as both Claire and Gertie reach out to stroke one of the older mares on the forehead before we make it to the sheep enclosure.
“Why don’t you guys get some feed?” my dad suggests, and Heath shows Giles and Gertie where to find the barrel of grain. The ewes begin bleating and rushing in as soon as they hear someone approaching their feeders, their lambs skipping along behind them.
Claire gestures toward a nearby bale, and we add a few scoops of hay to the grains, watching as the mama ewes ruminate contentedly and the smaller lambs nurse.
“To find a show-quality sheep, you’ll want to start by looking at the more active lambs, and then narrow it down by checking the more specific characteristics, like the coloration on their hooves and faces, their shape and muscle tone,” Claire explains and brings Gertiearound to have her point out some of the more promising lambs, providing feedback for each of Gertie’s guesses.
Once the sheep have seemingly had their fill, Claire stoops down to pick up one of Gertie’s favorites, quickly securing the squirming lamb by tucking its legs beneath her arm like a pro and bringing it to Gertie and Giles for a combination of petting and inspection.
They decide after a minute that this one, while adorable, wouldn’t make the best choice for a show lamb because of its coarser pelt, and Claire aims a proud smile my way before she frees the lamb and picks up another. I can’t help but flash her a grin of my own when I realize she’d purposefully grabbed that lamb specifically to create a teachable moment. I think I see a hint of blush on her cheeks before she turns away to snatch another lamb and repeat the process.
“All right, let’s tag this little one’s ear,” my dad says to Giles once they find a suitable candidate.
“What about this one?” Gertie asks, tugging on Claire’s overalls to bring her attention to another promising lamb, and after some inspection, Gertie gets the honors of tagging it.
Claire compliments the kids on their tagging skills and explains the next steps, how the show lambs will need to mingle with the others but will eventually need to be separated for special grooming and shearing as they grow.
“Thank you, Claire,” Heath says, and I definitely see Claire’s cheeks darkening when Gertie wraps her arms around her waist in gratitude.
“I thinkGrand-mèrehas our lunch ready,” my dad announces, and I automatically look to Claire.
“Oh, thank you, but I’m still full from breakfast,” she remarks with a hand over her middle, looking concerned.
“Do you wanna hang out here for a while longer?” I offer, and she nods in relief.
My dad winks as he takes the others back to the UTV, leaving Claire and me alone in the barn. She shoots me a coy smile before she picks up a shovel and begins cleaning out the stalls. I join her, and we work in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.
“What?” she asks when she notices the way I’m staring at her.
