17. Lia

I'msurprised by how comfortably I fall into a routine living with Ethan. I feel so at ease in Fork Lick. My energy levels are still quite low, but I'm able to work from bed and, frankly, the Bedd family is meeting all my needs. It's indulgent, decadent. Over the next few days, Ethan's grandmother delivers pureed delicious food every morning with Baabara in tow, sometimes on a leash and sometimes not.

Inevitably, Ethan argues with her about carrying heavy pots all the way from the house and scolds her for not keeping the sheep on a lead.

This morning is no different, and Gran raps on the door bright and early and I see her through the window, wagging a huge jar of mashed sweet potatoes. I hear hooves clacking on the porch and Ethan stalks across the cabin, throwing open the door with a growl. "She's not a dog, Gran. If you want that kind of pet, I can take you to the shelter."

Gran smiles and waves at me and shoves the jar at Ethan. "Speaking of dogs…" She steps into the house and closes the door behind her, leaving the sheep loose outside. I watch from the sofa as Baabara begins to rub herself along Ethan's porch railing before sinking down to nap in the sun.

Ethan strides toward the fridge with the jar. "We weren't speaking of dogs," he mutters.

Gran sinks into one of the chairs at his table and begins straightening the papers piled there. "Your brother Samuel has such a way with dogs…"

Ethan's eyes roll toward the ceiling, I watch him breathe through his nose. Biting back a laugh, I turn to Ethel. "I remember Samuel was always pestering Eugene to get a dog."

She nods. "Well, and now he has his own space and his own hound." She taps on the edge of the table. "I thought we could have him over to look at the strawberries."

Ethan stiffens and grips the edge of the counter. "He has very important work to do." Ethan grunts out the words through gritted teeth. "I'm sure he doesn't have time."

Gran waves a hand. "He'll be here in an hour. I heard on the weather radio that we're expecting storms next week and we want to make sure the seedlings are protected, right?"

Ethan's eyes widen and I watch tension ripple through his body. I lick my lips and suggest, "I'd love to have him look over what I've got so far with the grant application. He's much more familiar with the terminology and we want to make sure we sound like we know what we're talking about when we submit." I feel myself starting to ramble as a muscle ticks in Ethan's neck. Gran beams. "I'm mostly comfortable with the budget and financial statements but I've been sort of winging it with the project narrative."

Gran claps her hands. "There. It's settled. I'm going to make some lunch for you boys. Lia, dear, can you keep an eye on Baabara for me? I think she can tell she's about to see the farrier for a hoof trim and she's been a little extra…"

Before I can protest that I don't know how to look after a sheep, Ethel waves her way out of the cabin with Ethan in hot pursuit. He grumbles and growls about his brother coming to make everything harder than it needs to be.

None of them have mentioned me returning to my brother's house. Asher has barely emerged, texting me briefly that work continues to be intense for him. So … I just stay here. And pretend this is how my life can be—working from a bright and cozy cabin surrounded by family and the kindest man I ever met.

I glance through my work emails, spying one from my boss demanding an update on the Bedd project. Biting my lip, I fire off a response that I need more time here and that I really think the family has potential to move solidly into the black. I finish my protein shake and hurry outside just as Baabara starts heading toward the strawberry patch. I smile as I see Ethan and Samuel standing side by side. From the back, they look so similar–tall and slim, hips cocked to the right as they stare out at the field. Samuel gestures broadly as Ethan nods. From this vantage point, the conversation seems benign.

I follow Baabara toward the brothers and she halts when Samuel's dog starts yapping at her. Baabara starts jogging toward her enclosure, which I figure is probably a good thing, so I stoop down to pet the dog and listen to Samuel's thoughts on our project.

"You're going to need something to keep the birds off the fruit anyway, Ethan. Even if the hail doesn't get the berries, the crows will."

Ethan puts his hands on his hips and swallows. "How much will this tunnel project cost us? I don't need to tell you funds are tight."

Samuel grins and claps Ethan on the back. "Great news, brother. A few hours of paperwork and this can become a spring break project for crop sciences students."

"Spring break? Damn it, Samuel, I don't want this place to become another Woodstock." I bite back a laugh as Samuel explains how a small group of enthusiastic undergrads can camp in the pole barn for a few days and set up protective mesh tents over each row of the young strawberries as part of an experiential learning program.

A noise from the main house has all of us turning, and Samuel sighs when he sees his dog arguing with Baabara outside her space.

As Samuel jogs off toward the animals, I squeeze Ethan's arm. "Not so bad, right? Having student volunteers here is a good thing for us, Ethan."

He frowns and closes his eyes. "I hate when my brother is right about something."

I laugh at him. "Well, me, too, but you'll get over it eventually." I pinch his cheek and his eyes fly open. "Come on. You can tell your grandmother she gets to cook for a bunch of starving college students."