Page 102 of Snowballed

Bobby laughs too. He was always nice that way, laughing along even when he wasn’t quite sure why I was laughing.

“Zoe, I’ve been thinking. I know it’s hard for you to leave your farm. And I wanted to say—if you ever get a new property, come and see us and we’ll start you off right.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, we could graft your dad’s fruit trees onto new rootstock. Be like a chip off the old block.”

The idea feels miraculous. When I bite into one of our peaches and taste its sun-warmed sweetness, I can remember Derek and me as kids eating the peaches with juice running down our faces and my dad laughing at us. And our apple and pear trees have memories too.

“Wow, that’s the best idea. Thank you!”

“And you know how my brother is anal about record-keeping? I’m sure we could get you baby goats that originally come from Cookie or Fran or whichever damn goat is your favorite.”

I can’t stop smiling. Bobby is showing me how I can keep my farm forever. Noah once said something about a farm being transferrable. I’ve already come to terms with the idea of honoring my father in new ways, but here’s a chance to keep something concrete.

“Thank you so much.” I hug him, in a purely friendly way of course.

He blushes and shakes his head. “No big deal.”

But it is. Just the possibilities make me happier. I feel energetic and excited.

When my alarm goes off the next morning, I can’t wait to get back to my chores.

I open the door of the chicken coop. The chickens take one look at the blowing snow and turn back around. Smart birds. They have their own door they can use if the day brightens up later. I change their water and feed them.

Then I open the barn door. I stop in shock. It’s decorated with streamers and a big banner. The banner has been painted with the words, Welcome Baaaaack Zoe!

The goats are milling around excitedly, the way they do whenever their routine changes. I look around, but there’s no sign of anyone ready to jump out and surprise me.

What am I supposed to do now? Cookie’s loud bleat reminds me that it’s milking time.

I push her onto the milking stand and notice that she’s wearing a pink paper heart on her collar. I pull it off for a look.

Missed ewe.

“Pretty corny. But a ewe is actually a sheep.” I take the heart off and pin it to the chore board. It’s adorable, and I’m going to keep it. I milk Cookie, but she’s almost dried up now. She needs all her milk for her baby.

It’s fun to be back at this, but I miss having two people here. Farming is teamwork, just like hockey.

Pie is the next up. Her heart saysGoat Milk?I giggle at the silliness as I milk her.

Win is bleating loudly, so I grab her next. Her heart saysUse kid gloves.

“I always do,” I tell her as I hang up her sign.

Rayme doesn’t have any sign at all. I suspect that she ate hers because that’s so Rayme. And she doesn’t have any milk either. I wonder when all this decorating took place. Someone must have gotten up pretty early. Or maybe it was done last night. Is it a group effort or the one person I long to see the most?

Fran is last. Her heart sign saysDidn’t miss ewe. Well, she is the diva of the herd.

“That’s not nice,” I tell her. But when I flip the heart over, it says,Just kidding.

This can’t be Noah; he always mocks my corny jokes. It’s more of a Rocky thing to do. I put the milk into the fridge and rinse off the strainer.

Then there’s a familiar knock on the barn door.

“Come in,” I say. My heart is thumping wildly in my chest.

Noah walks in. He’s wearing his black puffer jacket, a red plaid scarf, and the lopsided beanie I knitted. He looks stylish, handsome, and so desirable. A Burling-ten-ten—but it’s his strength of character that really makes him perfect.

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