The Happiness Pact. Liz Flaherty

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      “Good thinking. At least wait there until I come around to help you.”

      “Okay, my hero.”

      As he inched his way around the front of the car, he found a spot of ice under the snow. His feet, still clad in the slick-soled shoes he’d worn to church, went out from under him. He landed flat on his back, coming to rest jammed against the bumper of the car, which was all that kept him from sliding under the engine as if he were on a mechanic’s creeper.

      The passenger door opened and closed, and a few seconds later, Libby knelt beside him. Good Lord, she’s wearing a dress. He hadn’t even realized that.

      “Are you okay?”

      He met her eyes as her face hovered close to his. “You’re laughing, aren’t you?”

      “Give me a little credit here. I’m trying not to.”

      She didn’t try hard enough, and by the time she’d helped him to his feet and was brushing snow off him, they were both laughing so hard they could barely stand.

      “Come on.” He tucked his arm around her and they started toward the farmhouse. “If we stay in one spot too long, they’ll find us frozen in place when everything thaws.” He squinted into the snow. “Is anyone home? I know it’s early, but it’s dark enough there should be lights on and I don’t see any.”

      She pointed. “In the barn. I’d say it was milking time, but I don’t see any signs of dairy.”

      They plodded through the snow, growing more breathless as they discussed the combined lack of foresight that resulted in her dress and his slick shoes. When they got to the white barn, Tucker rapped sharply on the tall door before pushing it open enough for them to slip inside the hay storage area. “Hello?” he called, keeping Libby’s hand in his as they moved toward the light source.

      “In the stable.” The voice was muffled, but they were able to follow it.

      The scene they walked into was one Tucker thought he’d only seen on television. A man stood in a roomy stall with his arm around a boy who looked about eleven or twelve. A woman, visibly pregnant, was outside the stall with a little girl who was probably five beside her. The little girl was holding a cat.

      The adults looked helpless. The boy was trying not to cry, leaning his head into the man’s chest and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

      Tucker remembered being that age, when for whatever reason it wasn’t okay to cry anymore. The dog he and Jack had shared had died. His mother and Libby and the Gallagher girls had been in tears, but he and Jack and Jesse had toughed it out. They’d buried the dog under an elm tree in the woods around the Albatross without shedding a single tear. Instead, they’d used a lot of forbidden swear words and taken the rowboat out to one of the little islands in the middle of the lake. They’d stayed out there until Jack got hungry and Tucker got leery of being on the island after dark.

      He didn’t think this kid had an island available to him right now, and he was losing the fight against tears. Also standing in the stall was a black-and-white cow—a Holstein like the Worths always had—who didn’t appear to be enjoying herself. Unless Tucker missed his guess, she was in labor, and it wasn’t going so well.

      The man seemed to realize for the first time that the family was no longer alone in the barn. He shook himself a little, his hand stroking through his son’s hair. “I’m sorry. May I help you?”

      “We slid off the road,” said Tucker. “I’m not sure you have anything to tow with, but I’m pretty sure we’d get too cold out there waiting for a truck. We’ve come to beg warmth.”

      “I’ll pull you out soon. I hope you don’t mind waiting.” The man gestured toward the straining cow. “Joanna’s having some trouble.”

      “Wow, she sure is.” Libby took off her coat and gloves and carried them over to the little girl. “Will you and your kitty watch these for me? I’m always losing things.”

      The little girl nodded, her expression solemn.

      “My name is Libby Worth, and my friend is Tucker Llewellyn. What’s yours?” Libby was looking around, smiling when her gaze encountered anyone else’s.

      “I’m Mari,” said the little girl. She pointed at the boy. “That’s Gavin. He’s my brother.”

      “And my name is Dan. This is my wife, Alice,” the man said, finishing the introductions. “Joanna is Gavin’s 4-H calf, all grown up.” He shook his head. “I’m afraid being midwife to a cow is outside all our skill sets.”

      Libby nodded. “Do you have shoulder gloves?”

      Gavin drew away from his father. “The vet gave us some, but we don’t know what to do with them.”

      “Well, I do, and so does my friend Tucker here, although it’s been long enough for him he probably doesn’t remember. Do you have some chains for calving?”

      “Yes. They were left here.” Gavin’s father looked apologetic. “I’m afraid I don’t know how to use them, either. Sometimes moving to the country from the suburbs seems to have been a mistake.”

      “No, it’s not,” his wife protested softly. “We just haven’t learned everything yet. What do you need us to do, Ms. Worth?”

      “It’s just Libby.” She smiled at the woman, who’d come to stand nearby, her hands resting on the large mound of her stomach.

      Tucker thought the whole barn, even Joanna, relaxed in the glow of that smile.

      “Okay. I need water, please. Warm, if you have it.” Libby pulled the long glove into place and stepped behind Joanna. “Gavin, this is your cow. Are you going to help her have this baby?”

      The boy’s eyes were wide. Tucker thought his own probably were, too. “Yes, ma’am.”

      “I was about your age when my cow Arletta had her first calf, and she took her time about it, too.” Libby nodded at Dan. “Will you hold her tail? If I make her mad—which I very well might—and she flips it around, she could knock me down.” She aimed a smile at Tucker. “You need to get your coat off if you’re going to help here.”

      Which he obviously was, whether he wanted to or not. Her expression told him there’d be no good in arguing that point. Tucker took off his coat, gloves and the pullover sweater he’d worn to church. The shirt he’d worn under it was fairly expendable, but the sweater was cashmere and he really liked how it felt.

      “My brother is a vet,” Libby explained to Gavin, “and we grew up on a dairy farm, so I really do know how to do this. Understand, I don’t like doing it, so you’ll probably have to do something wonderful for me after this, like make me some cookies or something.”

      Holding the calving chains until she asked for them, Tucker listened to Libby as she spoke first to the worried boy and then to the frightened cow. “My friend delivers human babies, and she’s given me all kinds of new instructions I didn’t know about,” Libby said, her voice soothing and quiet. “You need to breathe just right, Joanna. Do the hoo-hoo, hee-hee thing like they show on television. I’ll bet Alice can tell you how. That way I can put the chains around your baby’s СКАЧАТЬ