“No,” Josh said.
She spun around, a flash of fury on her face that reminded me of Ellie. “I will walk them every day.”
“Can’t keep goats.”
Arms crossed, she looked him up and down. “I will eventually persuade you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“Yup.” She popped theP, then whipped around again and went back to asking Logan questions about goat physiology and behavior.
Ellie said nothing, but by the way she was letting one of the animals chew on the string of her hoodie, she seemed on board with the new friends.
Eventually we got back to picking, but the kids all took turns walking the goats, who loved eating apples, tree branches, and also the apple crates. It turned out Calvin and Hobbes, like most goats, did not have discerning palates.
“You could offer an orchard experience,”Jenn said, mirth flashing in her eyes. “Apple picking with goats. Then maybe pressing cider like grandpa used to do.”
“I don’t provide experiences,” he said, bristling. “I run a damn farm.”
“Just saying.” She elbowed him in the ribs. “We’re trying to win back the tourists who have migrated to Birch Hollow. Goat yoga is huge. Maybe goat maple sugaring could be next.”
“They’d eat all the plastic tubing,” Josh groused.
“Oh, they definitely would.” Logan jogged up beside us. “They ate part of the water bucket I put out for them last night.”
The kids sorted the apples into two categories: those suitable for eating and those that would be better used for cider, with plans to take home several dozen. It had been a fun adventure, and Julian was already working to convince Josh to plant peach trees, since peaches were his favorite fruit.
“Hey,” Josh said, pulling me aside while the kids chattered about what they were going to make with all the apples. “Can you take a walk for a bit?”
Frowning, I waved at my kids. He knew better than that. I couldn’t just leave them unaccompanied.
Stella, the traitor, jumped in and immediately. “Who wants to make an apple pie with me?” she asked.
Naturally, all three of my kids cheered.
“Perfect. But we’ve got to make it here. I don’t have any butter at my house.”
“We have lots of butter,” Julian chirped.
“I’ll hang with them for a while,” Stella said, her eyes dancing with mischief. “Take a break. You deserve it.”
Despite my annoyance with her, she was a responsibleadult and my kids were dancing around her like she was a goddamn fairy princess, so I’d let them have their fun.
As they wandered away, Josh held out an elbow.
“A walk?” I asked.
He nodded. “Want to show you something.”
We took off down the hill toward the big barn, but before we made it there, we headed off the road toward the far side of the farm I was mostly unfamiliar with.
“Seems like you’ve been having a tough week,” he said.
I didn’t respond. I didn’t know how to, and I didn’t know how he’d know that. We’d barely spoken, and I hadn’t mentioned anything to anyone.
“You didn’t have to say it,” he said, apparently a mind reader. “I could see the tension in your jaw, the way you hurried off to school every day. And even this morning.”
A knot formed in my stomach. I did not want to talk. I wasn’t ready for that. Couldn’t I just live in that little happy moment for a bit longer?
