Page 35 of Wolves & Watercolors
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With a slow and smooth movement, I tuck the chick under her belly and swipe an egg in a quick exchange. I tuck the sphere under my palm as I withdraw my hand so she won’t see it.
Coco flattens her wings and fluffs her belly to accommodate her new chick. Perfect. It’s exactly what I hoped to see. Dropping the dummy egg into the pouch tied to my belt, I hold out my hand. Aurora places another squirming chick into my palm.
We repeat the process eight more times until Coco has all of the babies tucked under her wings. When one little chick wiggles out, she pushes it back to safety.
“That should do it.” I straighten and brush my hands off.
Aurora’s expression is astounded. She moves to the side of the coop where she can peer through the chicken wire at the nesting boxes.
“How do you feel about chickens now?” I can’t keep the hope out of my voice.
“I’m not sure. Better, I think? I still don’t want to go in there, but maybe another day.” She eyes the girls through the wire.
“So what caused you to not like them?”
She hesitates, glancing between me and the chicken coop. I can see the moment she decides to share, because her breath exhales and her shoulders relax. “Let’s just say a field trip to a farm went terribly wrong.”
My fingers tighten on the empty box in my hands. “How so?”
“I got left in the chicken coop and one jumped on my head. By the time the teacher got back, it had pooped in my hair and scratched me up.” Her embarrassed laughter is husky.
“I’m sorry. That’s shit luck.” She raises an eyebrow at me, and I bury my face in my hand when I realize my accidental pun. “That’s not, well, you know what I mean.”
“You’re funny.” Her genuine smile hits me in the chest, taking my breath away. I thought she looked just like Hazel, but standing in my garden with morning light forming a halo around her, she looks uniquely her. I could never mistake her for anyone else. She’s burned into my retinas.
“So what now?” She spins, taking my breath with her.
“What?”
“What are you doing the rest of the morning?”
I stare at her dumbly. “What do you want to do?”
“I’m not the one in charge of the garden, Cedar.”
My name out of her mouth is so distracting, it delays her words from sinking in. Finally my brain processes her meaning.
“Oh, actually I need to make some cheese.”
“You do that too? I thought that was your dad’s thing.”
“He’s been busy working on a special project.” I stumble over the words, unsure of what to say. I can’t very well explain how he's handling retraining our neighboring pack that my twin is the new Alpha of. “But we’re running low on cheese, and the girls’ milk is adding up, so I was going to make a few batches of cheese to get aging. So we don’t run out.”
“That sounds like a lot of work.”
“It can be, but it’s worth it,” I say with a shrug.
“Do you want some help?”
I study her. Is she offering just to be polite? “You’ve got your painting to do and this is supposed to be a vacation for you.” Her mouth curves into a small frown. “But if you want to, I’m happy to have the extra hands,” I backtrack.
She brightens. “Yes, I really would like to. I’ve never seen cheese being made, and it seems cleaner than farm chores?”
“You’d be surprised,” I say with a chuckle. There’s a reason the cheese kitchen is all stainless steel and is outfitted with a commercial triple sink.
The sound of stomping feet grabs my attention. Sable marches across the garden’s north end, moving away from her cottage.
