Chapter 38 – About eight years later . . .
Chapter Thirty-Eight
HARRY/LOUISA
ABOUT EIGHT YEARS LATER . . .
T he old place doesn’t look the same. The house isn’t much different from the outside, but inside is a brand-new, state-of-the-art gourmet kitchen. The house yard now sports a brand-new white picket fence. Complete with an elegant white metal gate. Ned and Mick worked with me for a few days to get the wooden fence built and painted. We even managed to fix up the sign over the ranch.
And it’s all a surprise.
Louisa is waitin’ on me in the Lewistown hospital. Our firstborn arrived last week. A healthy, robust boy. If he ain’t the spitting image of his daddy, I don’t know what is.
I have been planning this little homestead makeover for nine damn months. The kitchen took a ton of covert planning. With secret calls to old Mrs. Mancini, I got the best we could afford and went with a better layout. Cabinetry that should see us out was a must. And I gotta say, they look mighty fine. Its orientation is slightly different to the old one, facing somewhere more meaningful.
I can’t wait to see the look on her beautiful face when she comes home.
Home .
Every year we make our life here, it feels more and more that way.
The barn got a complete overhaul, and we built another. The old loading ramp and yards were the first fix. My ever-patient wife, after years of putting the ranch first, deserves homestead renovations. What better time than when we bring our first child home?
I will never be able to match what she’s given me in this life. The sacrifices. The trust. The love.
Hell, I will spend every day I have on this earth makin’ sure she has the life she wants. I used to think the bottom line was the most important thing to makin’ a good life pan out.
Now, I understand bottom lines ain’t got nothin’ on the people in your life. We have built friendships. Taken on more investments, the new vet clinic in town being one. Mama’s Place is a thriving eatin’ spot, and Lou is in there every week, checking over menus, teaching her staff the things she’s learned.
But long hours and the stress of working a business weighed on her when she found out she was pregnant. So, when she told me before Hudson was born she was going silent on the restaurant, I knew she was making a good choice not only for her, but for us.
We spent the last eight years workin’. Lovin’. Making up for all those years we were apart. And when we were finally blessed with the chance at havin’ a family, the way her face lit up when the stick turned and she realized she was with child... That memory, I’ll never give up.
I thought I’d loved her in every way possible ’til that day.
That changed again a week ago when the strongest fuckin’ woman I’ve ever known birthed me a son. The hours of agony she went through, only to come out smilin’ when I bent over and cut the cord.
A man has never cried so hard in front of so many people.
So, a kitchen and a quaint white fence is the least I can give her today. I glance at the sky, of which the sun is halfway up. I still have one more errand before I head into town.
If I don’t hurry, I’ll be late.
Ain’t no way that’s happenin’. I promised to arrive at lunchtime. And I intend on keepin’ my word and addin’ some of those wildflowers she loves so much from our hills here on the ranch. I jump into the truck and poke toward the hills to the south.
Cresting the top of the first flower-covered hill, I park and gather as many flowers as I can manage. Once the cab is overflowing with the small yellow flowers on their raggedy stems, I slide back inside and track back toward the homestead.
An hour later, I have everything organized.
Flowers everywhere.
In vases.
Scattered over the floor and down the hall.
By our bed... Check.
Crib set up and baby things at the ready.
New kitchen all cleaned for use, food and utensils, pots and pans all stowed away. Check.
New white fence wrapping all the way round our homestead yard to raise our babies in. Check.
Shaved. Check.
Nervous as hell. Check.
Pining away, still, for the only woman I’ve ever loved.
Check and check.
* * *
The little hospital is quiet. I poke my head through the door to Louisa’s room, and her wide smile and lit-up green eyes are the first thing I see. In her arms lies a small bundle. Throat workin’ at the tiny sounds he makes, I drag my hat from my head.
I pad to Lou’s side, brushing a kiss over her lips. “Hey, darlin’.”
“Hey, Harry.” Her words choke up. “Hey little man, daddy’s here.”
She lifts him up to me.
I drop my hat onto the bed and wrap my arms around him. He nestles into my hold. I make a promise to myself that he will know just how loved he is. And I decide right there that I will work every day to show him what it is to be a good man.
Leading by example.
So my wife never has to make a hard choice.
So she is never left alone.
So he grows up knowing the worth of a woman.
“Howdy, my boy. Bein’ good for your mama?”
He pulls a face, his little mouth twisted, his brows down. And, I swear, he growls.
I chuckle. This little boy is a chip off the old block.
“About that...” Louisa looks up at me.
“Yeah, Lou?”
“Not Mama. Ma.”
I know what she means.
Her face softens as she rises a little where she sits, leaning over as she pulls the swaddle blanket away from Hudson’s small face. “Do you think she would mind?”
Hell.
A stone rises in my throat with her meaning, tamping down any words. I drop my gaze to Hudson, then shift it to Louisa. “She would be honored. And it sounds perfect to me.”
Louisa smiles, a tear tracking down her cheek. She swipes it away as she whispers, “Ma.”
A huffy breath snaps from her chest, and she slides from the bed. “Take us home, Harry.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I pluck up the overnight bag, still cradling my son, and lead my wife home.
* * *
Louisa
Hudson rides on the bench seat between us, his small baby seat tethered to the lap belt. Harry drives slow. Almost too slow. He’s been a father for five minutes and already outshines his own in every single way.
“How’s things while I was away?” I ask, eyes searching the horizon as we get closer and closer to the ranch.
“Good. Same.”
He glances at me, but those deep blues have a glint of something suspicious in them. What are you up to, Harry Rawlins?
His hands grip the wheel tight. His angled jaw and dark hair still set the silhouette I adore. That stubble. The deep adoration burning right through me...
I’m more in love with this man than I’ve ever been.
Just when I think life can’t get any better. That I can’t love him more... Harry becomes a father, and that feeling, the invisible tug we’ve always had, infinitely grows. Fortified by this new adventure in our life together.
“I can hear the cogs turnin’, Louisa May.”
I smile at him, eyes shining with all the love I have for him. I don’t respond. Instead, he turns into the ranch, but pulls up before the wide entrance.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Rawlins.” He nods to the wide arch above us.
H J & L M Rawlins
Rosewood Ranch
My hand presses over my mouth. It’s wonderful. We talked about this for so long. To see it, the new hardwood posts and the carved wooden entrance with our initials, it’s something else.
“Oh, Harry...”
He gives me a wink. “Get used to sayin’ that phrase.”
What is he talkin’ about?
We roll into the ranch, the barns flanking the driveway to the left, the homeste?—
“Oh my god...” The words leave on puffy breaths.
A smile the size of Montana grows over his face as he pulls up and kills the engine. A sweet white fence runs right ’round the house, the old trees—my favorite part of the homestead—encircled by it. The front yard is a large rectangle. It looks magnificent.
“Ain’t even the best part,” Harry rumbles softly beside me. Now his face is lit up and staring down at me at my open door. I didn’t see him get out of the truck, let alone round it and open my door. Awe has me in its thrilling grip as I slip out of the truck, my hand in his. Harry leans inside and reappears with Hudson cradled safely in his arms.
“Welcome home, Lou.”
I glance up at him and wander toward the small white gate. Its ornate iron top is the sweetest thing. I swing it open. Wide stone pavers are dotted along a curved path to the front porch, lining up perfectly with our front door.
“Harry... what did yo—When did you do all this?”
“I had a few days to get a couple things fixed up.”
He leans around me and places his hand on the front doorknob. “Now, I realize you like your cookin’ space a particular way, but I thought an upgrade was overdue for the most amazing woman I’ve ever known.”
“Wha—” I flick my gaze to his face.
He swings the front door open, and I return my attention to inside the house.
To our home.
I cross the threshold and halt one step in.
The old ranch kitchen, with its sagging cabinet doors and tiny stove, is nowhere to be found. Instead, a beautiful and massive kitchen sits in its place. I drift toward the wonder. My fingertips sweep over the new counter. The cabinets are gorgeous. The hardware...
My eyes burn.
A wide stove sits on the back wall, a long faucet hovering over it. A wide fridge, and is that . . . ?
“A wine fridge?” I gasp.
“You never know, with this family of ours growing, we’re probably gonna take up drinkin’.”
His grin is wide but falls when the sentiment hits home.
The memories of the little allotment outside Lewistown and the dim days Rosie and him lived there must have snagged in his mind.
I move into his space and push up on my tiptoes, planting a kiss on his lips. Hoping to remind him of what Harry, whiskey, and me have between us. Wanting to coax back every beautiful memory we have of whiskey kisses, and all the love we’ve made. “We will be just fine. A little whiskey never hurt a man.”
Being careful not to disturb Hudson, I cup Harry’s face and whisper my mouth over his. This hunger between us will never die. Of that, I’m sure now.
“Or a little fencin’,” he rasps.
He caught on quick. Spinning back ’round, I take in all he’s done for me, and emotion claims me. An arm slides around my waist, his stubbled cheek pressing against mine. “A captain needs a decent helm. Think this’ll do, darlin’?”
It’s all I can do to turn a little to the side and close my eyes, nestling my face into his neck. Hudson stirs in his arms, so I make my next words a whisper.
But their meaning is everything.
“It faces north. It’s perfect, Harry.”