“Perfect. Just bring the girls out when you’re ready to leave.”
“If you’re sure.”
He smiled. “Girls, I’ll see you a little later on, okay? Thanks for helping me with breakfast.”
Walsh reached over and grabbed a chocolate chip from Betsy’s plate and turned to Ty. She flung her arms around his leg and squeezed, then reached up and handed him the chocolate chip. “For you.”
He popped it in his mouth, grinned at Betsy, and waved good-bye.
When Betsy and the girls came out later that morning to bring Ty the leftover blueberry muffins, the barn was unusually silent. Instead of the regular music pumping from the barn speakers, brooms and hammers and machines moving and working, the space was still. While the cows grazed in the pasture, a knot of men huddled around the laptop on Ty’s desk, the tinny voice of a meteorologist floating from the speaker.
Betsy didn’t know how he did it—if it had something to do with his “sweet spot” internal hunch or if it was something else more science based—but Ty had always known which storms to concern himself with and which ones to ignore, regardless of what the weathermen said or how other farmers in the area chose to prepare.
He’d predicted the ferocity of Hurricane Mabel six years ago with startling accuracy, even when the storm was still more than ten days out. He moved the cows to the middle of the back pasture, away from the buildings and tall trees, even when other farmers thought he was overreacting. They preferred to err on the side of hope—a flimsy thing in the face of Mother Nature’s fury—but Ty chose to be realistic.
After Mabel blew through, leaving fallen trees, dead animals, and busted houses in her wake, Ty and Betsy found their cows munching wet grass in the pasture, only a few skittish heifers in the whole bunch. Their barn survived with minimal damage thanks to his preparations—a few missing shingles, some loose boards—and they didn’t miss a milking. Few doubted his instincts after that.
Seeing Ty hunched over that laptop, his lips a thin, straight line, his hat flung carelessly on the desk, she knew it was serious.
“I don’t know about you, Terry, but this reminds me a lot of how Ivan started way out in the Atlantic,” the voice from the computer said. “Maybe even Frederick. No one’s really talking about it yet, but I’d say—”
When Ty saw her and the girls, he closed the laptop. “I’d say we’ve heard enough for now, boys.”
The guys straightened up and looked around, as if coming out of a dazed sleep. They blinked and rubbed their heads and beards, smiled at her and the girls.
“Hey there, Bets,” Carlos said. He bent down to Addie and Walsh. “I’m going to need some help later this afternoon. Think I can count on the two of you?”
The girls nodded with enthusiasm.
“How’s Gloria doing these days?” Betsy asked. “I haven’t seen her in a while.”
“Oh, she’s good. She’ll be happy to see you—”
Ty cleared his throat and Carlos stopped. “I’ll tell her you said hello.”
Betsy smiled. “Okay then.” She glanced at Ty, but he’d lowered his gaze to his desk, straightening a pencil and a stack of paper.
When the guys dispersed, Ty grabbed his hat and slapped it back on his head. “What’s this?” He nodded to the basket under Betsy’s arm. “Those were supposed to be for you.”
She looked at him another quick moment before handing the basket over. “The girls were concerned that you farmers get hungry during the day and don’t have enough food out here to munch on. They said I really should share.”
“And we had extras,” Addie said. “There’s one for you, one for Mr. Carlos, one for Mr. Walker . . .” She called out each man’s name like they were special friends.
Ty leaned against his desk. “I’m sure they’ll appreciate it. Why don’t you run and catch them before they get too busy?” The girls trotted out into the barn with the basket.
“What’s going on?” She nodded to the computer.
Ty sighed. “Ingrid. It’s looking like she could turn ugly. Already is for some places.”
“What’s your plan?”
“We’re in pretty good shape here. We did a lot of prep at the beginning of the season so no need to cram now. I need to check the shutters on the house, make sure they close tight. And you may want to take a trip to the store in case we lose power like last time. Better to do it now before panic sets in. We still have a few days.”
She glanced through the open door. The girls handed Walker a muffin, then ran to the fence for the next delivery. “So it’s coming this way?”
He shrugged. “No way to tell for sure. But we’re due.”
“And you have a feeling.”
He nodded, his gaze on the floor. Then he turned to her. “So, time for you to head out?”
“I checked online and that class is at two.”
“Great. What else?”
“I . . .” She shrugged.
“Don’t worry about us. Walker is working long hours this weekend—I think he’s saving for a car. I have extra hands around, so we’ll be fine.”
“Okay, but what about naptime? It’s getting close, and I don’t think Walsh should—”
“We’ll be fine.” Ty placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her around. “Really. They can take a quick nap after they’ve burned off some energy, then I have their whole afternoon planned. All you have to do is relax. And don’t come back before dinner. The girls and I are going to cook you up something special.”
“Okay,” she said, still unsure.
“Why don’t you call Anna Beth? See if she can meet you for a drink.”
“In the middle of the afternoon?”
“Why not? It’s your birthday.”
Betsy kissed him and waved to the girls. On her way back
