Chapter 8
NOELLE
Although exhausted, I set Lily down for a nap, made a second cup of coffee, and stole my way to the basement with it. Taking my own nap would be far wiser, because I had a hard time settling into Grandpa’s creaky room, but I couldn’t help my curiosity.
I slid down the complaining stairs, found a cord to pull the light on, and watched the dim bulb illuminate . . .
. . . junk.
With Cade gone, it would be easier to poke around down here, snooping into what remained of Grandma and Grandpa without feeling weird about it.
Nostalgia had come in waves as I explored each room upstairs.
I anticipated the over-cluttered basement would be the same, along with amusement and irritation.
Did Grandpa keep everything? Grandma used to putter around, clearing the clutter out of cupboards, drawers, closets. But she’d been gone for years, and all that excess built up everywhere.
Quite literally.
Downstairs, I found dusty clothes piled on old furniture.
Fleece sweaters, some old turtlenecks, and durable one-piece winter clothing for when Grandpa had to plow during snowstorms. Old boots, garbage bags filled with shoes, and bins of paperwork.
Paths cut through the floor, creating a trail toward the rooms at the back, which occupied either side of a cluttered hallway.
I had a sip of coffee, soothed by the heat hitting my stomach and the promise of caffeine.
No wonder Cade was overwhelmed at the thought of overseeing this.
This dimly lit living area alone had trinkets piled on junk piled on storage of more stuff.
A wise person would grab a donation truck, park it at the back door, and start a line of people up the stairs.
It might take days to empty this place, even with helpers.
Slurping again, I ventured in and out of rooms. The disorder spread into the bedrooms where Naomi and I used to sleep. In my old room, a metal doll lay across a stack of pillows. One eye shut, the other open, staring at a blank ceiling.
Shuddering, I moved on. My fingers scraped along a spot of old wallpaper replete with flowers surrounded by doily-like lace as I slipped into the far room, where Naomi used to sleep.
Weak light emitted through the high, small window, which was too narrow and short to admit much.
Snowpack kept the room dark. This area was big enough for a queen bed, but only housed a closet and accumulated junk.
Setting aside the obvious issues down here—leaking ceiling, peeling wallpaper, stained flooring—its core structure wasn’t so bad. The furnace was another story. It was making weird noises, and its walls were barely warm.
I wasn’t an interior designer by trade, but I could see how the rebirthing process in the house was a simple matter of layering one process on top of another. Removing debris. Organizing. Decluttering. Replacing.
Thoughts coalescing, I moved upstairs again, grateful for abundant light and heat. Before he left, Cade brought more firewood into the house. Though not entirely sure how to navigate a fire, I added a few more logs and opened the door to Lily’s room to admit the heat.
At this point, my response to Cade’s plea seemed inevitable. While I didn’t know much about decor, renovation, or building, I did know how to manage a team, organize a project, and move a goal forward.
I did exactly this in my job where I worked with physicians, patients, and regulatory agencies as we pushed out new clinical trials for cancer drugs.
But keeping that job would have been almost impossible now that I had a needy newborn and family-from-without attempting to swoop in and take Lily from me.
But this?
This might be the best alternative route forward I never would have found.
“You’re no clinical trial for a new oncology drug,” I said to the wrought-iron picture frame of Grandma and Grandpa on their wedding day, “but you could be just as transformative.”
And the gentleman cowboy smack dab in the middle wouldn’t be too bad, either.
Dinner warmed on the stove, and a lighthearted country song played through my phone, when Cade returned later that evening.
Snow and cold air swept him through the back door and into the kitchen. He’d stomped his feet off outside, but brought flurries with him. Two boxes of diapers and several bags of groceries filled his arms. I abandoned the simmering rice dish and accepted the bounty.
“Goodness,” he cried. “What is that delicious smell?”
“Dinner! Oh, thank you, Cade. Those diapers are so helpful. Can I pay you back?”
He rolled his eyes. “Don’t worry about it.”
“But—“
“Consider the box of diapers as a Welcome-to-Iron-Creek-Ranch gift. They’re not a big deal. I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so I grabbed a little of everything. If you don’t like any of it, I promise the boys will gladly inhale it.”
He shook the snow off a few bags, then set them on the floor by the fridge.
“Double thanks.”
His brow furrowed when he cast a long glance at the window, as if he could stare past the weather to places far beyond.
“The storm is really picking up out there, so I bought extra with the thought that we’d better be safe than sorry. Winter turns on a dime.”
The reminder of the precarious situation out there sent a shiver through me, reaffirming that the decision to stay was the right one.
Not only did I not want to deal with driving to Marsha and Bart’s on the other side of the country—nor flying with a baby on a plane packed with strangers again—but living in the middle of a city.
Cade offered a very real, protective bubble.
The idea of not being alone, of having a gentle, helping hand, was almost too delicious to release. Cade might be a stranger to me, but Grandpa loved him. Trusted him enough to grant him his most precious gift. That alone gave me the courage to see this through.
I set the diaper box in the hallway and returned to sort through the groceries while he tromped outside. Pleasant aromas filled the kitchen, overturning my hungry stomach. Hopefully, he didn’t mind me taking over the cooking.
A tentative uncertainty lay in the air between Cade, me, and two ranch hands I had yet to meet.
How would we navigate living in the same house, but with no definable relationship?
My growing awkwardness didn’t seem to touch Cade, because he brought the rest of the groceries inside, gave me a quick smile, and asked, “Where’s Lily? ”
“She should be waking up soon.”
A hint of disappointment showed in his beautiful eyes before he nodded. “Glad she’s getting some rest. Must be hard, all that growing.”
I laughed. “Yes, a very difficult life indeed. Being snuggled endlessly. Kept warm. Fed. Played with.”
“Terrible.”
His light-hearted humor soothed my concerns. Cade stuck his nose in the air, sniffed. “You fixed dinner?”
“Yes. I made more than enough for both of us, if you’d like some. I wasn’t sure about the ranch hands you’ve mentioned.”
His eyes widened with a sudden smile. “I’d love that, thank you. They’ll be fine. They have a microwave out there, and they’re finishing up some chores still.”
“Okay. It’ll be ready in ten.”
“That’ll give me time to wash up. Dibs on doing the dishes. House rules—the cook doesn’t have to clean up,” he added, peeling off his boots.
“That is one house rule I can definitely accept.”
Hearing Lily awaken, I went to check on her. Eyes wide and soft, arms flailing with newfound energy after a long nap, she cooed from where she lay in her car seat. Somehow, the timing had come together perfectly. Lily had finished eating as the timer for the rice went off.
Cade settled at the table across from me. Piping hot dishes of blackened chicken and Spanish rice sat near a bowl of spinach salad, lightly wilted, left over from the grocery run he did before his trip to Florida.
“This looks delicious.” Cade reached across the table, hand open, and asked, “Do you say Grace?”
My lips parted. No one had asked me that question since the last time I lived here. Grandma insisted on it; yet at home, my father hated it.
“Please,” I said, though it didn’t answer the question at all. I placed my hand in his. Without hesitation, he dropped his head, murmured a prayer, and broke the connection moments later.
“Thank you for preparing dinner, Noelle. Can’t tell you what it means to have a hot meal. It’s been . . . well . . .” He laughed. “Let’s not name how long it’s been since I’ve taken the time to do more than open a can and warm something up.”
Gratified by his compliments and the groans of delight at every bite, I simply smiled and scooped up some salad.
My decision to stay seemed so simple while he was gone; it was about me, the house, and Lily.
But Cade brought a not-so-welcome reminder that the ranch was now his, and I was part of his plan, not the other way around.
On the other hand, this beautiful cowboy offered respite to a new mother, showed genuine delight around a child, and bought diapers so casually.
The greater difficulty would be living with him, but not falling for him. My growing crush on my landlord, for all intents and purposes, couldn’t be denied. I thought myself distracted or momentarily dazzled by his gentlemanlike presence, but it seemed inevitable that I’d been lying to myself.
Cade was . . . something else entirely, and what I felt was fathoms beyond dazzle. I swallowed a bite of rice with a little difficulty.
“How did your errands go?”
“Good. Found the information I needed at the bank, probate is underway, and saw my sister. It’s always good to see Cora.”
“You’re close with her?”
“Very. I raised her.”
“Oh?”
“Mom left for good when Cora was twelve, but she had only been in and out for years before that. We never met our father. Not sure who he is, actually.”
He stood, strode to the fridge, and reached for the gallon of milk. Of course, he drank milk with his meal. He also filled his plate mostly with spinach and chicken, and used a napkin on his lap. The man probably moonlighted as the tooth fairy for underprivileged children.
“Your mother left when you were so young?”
“I was almost eighteen at the time, so we managed to hide the fact that she left until my birthday. The moment I turned eighteen, I sought guardianship of Cora, a job on a different ranch, and saw her through school. I came to work here full time when Cora went to college.”
So, he wasn’t a perfect picture of cozy mountains and horses and chickens.
Guardianship of his sister at eighteen? It only made him more interesting.
No wonder he hadn’t reacted when I told him Lily wasn’t mine.
I didn’t have to guard my relationship with her, or prove that I was her mother.
In fact, he didn’t even generate questions about it.
He took the information and moved on, and probably because he had done something similar.
I stabbed a chunk of chicken.
“So . . . I thought about your offer.”
He set his fork down, met my eyes. I read nothing but sincere curiosity in their depths, maybe a smidgen of hope.
“And?”
“I’d like to take it.”
His handsome features brightened.
“You will?”
“There’s a lot of work to do,” I said carefully. My mind had been tabulating a list all day. Tonight, I’d sit down and put it on paper so I could see it laid out. Somewhere in all these massive piles, Grandpa had to have a binder, or something, that I could shove it all in afterward.
“More than is obvious at the moment, I’m sure,” he said.
Cade ran a hand through his hair as he chewed, then swallowed.
“Of greatest interest is the furnace, and the water heater. They’re both limping by, but I think it’s only a matter of time before both may stop altogether.
The furnace is too old to fix, so it will be close to $10,000 to replace.
In the meantime, the wood-burning stove helps. ”
I almost choked.
Ten grand?
Cade continued, as if he didn’t notice. “The water heater will add a couple thousand, as well. But I’m not going to replace them until we need to. With Lily here, that may be sooner than I expected.”
My heart softened. He’d prioritized Lily just right, and without a hint of resentment. Why did I watch so carefully for it? Because the other men in my life had been utter cads in comparison. At any moment, I expected rays of sunshine to burst from his hair and form a halo.
“Where would you like to start?” I asked.
He scraped the last of his rice off the plate, ate it, and leaned back. After contemplating, he said, “I think we need to make a list of necessities, top to bottom, and then prioritize. It’ll be easier to make a plan from there.”
Gratifying, that we thought so alike. This wouldn’t be a small, easy project. Cataloging the needs of this place would require time and detailed coordination, but if we could be on the same general page, I could handle it.
In details, projects, and plans, I found a sense of safety, indeed.
Besides, it would be nice to have something other than motherhood to focus on.
A flexible project that allowed me to take care of Lily, while still contributing.
The sight of him buying diapers and food was an all-too-real reminder that I had limited funds without an active job, and needed to figure that situation out as well.
Marsha would front me if my savings ran out, but I hated relying on her, and it wouldn’t last forever.
Lily cooed, earning a doting smile from Cade, who didn’t take his eyes off of her. He softened every time he studied her face, and I tried not to notice.
“I like that plan,” I said. “When works best for you?”
“Hmm. Tomorrow, the boys and I are breaking ice and checking water lines, and it’ll take up most of my day. This house is not getting any younger, and I don’t want to be surprised with a baby around.”
“How about tonight? I checked out the place today. While you do the dishes, I’ll start putting my own lists on paper. We can merge the goals together afterward.”
He grinned.
“It’s a date.”