warned, all while pouring on heaps of fudge. The hypocrite.
“These are my only nieces and nephews so I’m spoiling them rotten.” Noah giggled when Sierra tickled his side. “Maybe Heath and Kelsey will have babies soon, so I’ll have more to spoil...”
An expectant silence fell as Heath wordlessly passed over another bowl. He still hadn’t told Kelsey, or his family, about his Nashville tryout. When Pa and Cole finally got in from their fence inspection, he’d quit stalling and share his plans to drive to Tennessee next week. His stomach twisted. Would they be happy for him? Would Kelsey? Anticipation kept him up last night, imagining a future he’d never dared dream before, along with his fiery exchange with a certain redheaded cowgirl.
An ungrateful cowgirl.
“Can I be your flower girl when you get married this year, Uncle Heath? Huh? Can I?” Emma asked around a mouthful of ice cream.
Heath swallowed hard as he met Emma’s expectant blue eyes. “If I do, you’re the only flower girl I’d want.”
“If?” Emma angled her face up to her father. “I thought Mama said you were setting a date or something...”
“Hush now and eat your dessert,” Daryl urged, his tone gentle but firm.
“Is Mama coming?” Noah asked, his lips rimmed in sprinkles and chocolate.
A shadow darkened Daryl’s eyes. “No. She’s got another headache.”
“She always says that.” Emma dropped her cheek into her palm and sighed. “And she never wants to do anything except type on the computer. How come you don’t sleep at home anymore, Pa?”
Daryl’s face flushed, and concern for his brother spiked inside Heath. Daryl and LeAnne’s nine-year marriage had problems from the start. Lately, Heath woke to find Daryl sleeping on the ranch’s sofa rather than in his family’s cabin. They hadn’t spoken about it since Daryl, like all Lovelands, valued his privacy, but his suffering was clear.
“The drought has dramatically expanded recently,” the weather reporter droned on. “Thursday’s drought monitor indicates that more than ninety-eight percent of the state is in a drought, up from only ten percent at the start of the year. That’s a dramatic increase from just three months ago.”
“How come it never rains?” Noah scooped the fudge circling his melting ice cream and dumped it back over the top.
“And it didn’t snow at Christmas, either.” Emma’s face pinched. “Are we going to die like the polar bears? That’s what Jenny says.”
“Don’t listen to foolish talk.” Daryl accepted the bowl Heath passed him and dug in.
Heath eyed his niece’s and nephew’s wide, fearful eyes, clicked off the radio and slid a sundae toward Sierra. “We need to do a rain dance.”
“I want to do a rain dance!” Noah hopped off Sierra’s lap and clapped his hands. “What’s a rain dance?”
Heath stowed away the ice cream carton. “It’s a sacred ritual Native Americans do to ask for rain.”
Noah’s body practically vibrated with excitement. “Can we try?”
Heath shook his head. “Well, we can’t do a real Native American rain dance, but we can do our own.” He grabbed a small pot and a spoon and handed it to Emma, then passed over two boxes of elbow macaroni to Noah. “Line up behind me.”
“She just pushed me!” Noah complained when the kids jostled for the spot directly behind Heath.
“Did not!” Emma cried.
“Did, too!”
“Enough!” barked Daryl, a hint of a humor lightening his tone. “Or the rain dance is canceled due to bad behavior.”
“Sorry!” Emma and Noah squeaked.
“What do I do with these?” Noah held up the boxes. “They’re heavy!”
“You shake them.” Heath demonstrated, then handed a box back. “They’ll make a rain sound to call the clouds.”
“I’ll take one.” Daryl dropped his spoon in his bowl, snagged the box and lined up behind his son.
“What’s mine do?” Emma gestured with her spoon.
“My guess is you’re going to bang the pan so it makes a thunder sound to call to the sky.” Travis, their brother and the local sheriff, stomped into the kitchen, doffing his tan hat.
Noah shivered. “I like thunderstorms, but only when Pa cuddles us.”
“Hey, Ginger and I want in on this.” Sierra joined the lineup behind Heath, their tabby curled in her arms.
“The more the merrier. Ready for the rain dance?” Heath glanced back and grinned at the sight of his niece’s and nephew’s expectant faces. What was so bad about pleasing people? A moment ago, they’d been scared, and he’d made them forget those fears.
“Ready!” Emma and Noah shouted.
“Let me grab something!” Travis scrounged in the utensil drawer and grabbed a cheese grater and a butter knife. He sawed the flat end of the blade against the jagged holes. “All set.”
Heath sang Creedence Clearwater Revival’s song “Have You Ever Seen the Rain” as they marched around the long, dark pine kitchen table dominating the cozy space. Macaroni rattled inside the boxes Noah and Daryl shook while Emma banged her pan and Travis sawed on his grate. Sierra added a meow here and there. All in all, not half bad for a family band. One side of Heath’s mouth kicked up.
“Hey, what’s this?” asked Pa as he entered the front door.
“We’re making it rain!” shouted Noah, blasting across the open living space to throw his arms around his grandpa’s legs.
“And thunder.” Emma clanged her spoon against the pan for emphasis.
Pa hung his hat. “Well now. We sure could use it.”
A wire tightened across Heath’s chest, constricting his breath. Time to tell Pa about his Nashville tryout before he bailed like Clint predicted. “There’s something important I need to talk to you about, Pa.”
Pa nodded. “Let me just get a cup of joe first.” His normally broad shoulders drooped, and the grooves of his weathered face appeared deeper, his skin slightly gray.
“What’s wrong, Pa?” Sierra set down Ginger and hurried to their father. “You don’t look good.”
Pa ran a hand over his brush of silver hair, then jerked a thumb at the screen door. “Cole’s the one who’s not doing good.”
Travis ducked outside.
“What happened?” Heath measured out coffee grounds and dumped them in the coffee maker. Since his brother Cole’s ex, Katlynn Brennan, left after taping a segment for her cable show about the Loveland-Cade family feud,
