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By Root 732 0

ladybugs and a garden scene, that said, Welcome to Ladybug Farm. It never failed to make them smile. As they made the turn and started down the gravel drive, lined with tall oaks, the anticipation of some grand destination always made the heart beat a little faster. And then, coming out of the shadows and rounding the curve where the full, emerald lawn with its purple hydrangeas and brilliant pink peonies and carefully cultivated beds of hollyhocks and impatiens and showy, old-fashioned dahlias spread out like a ruffled quilt designed to show off all the colors of nature, there was always a catch of breath. In the background, the majestic blue mountains spilled their shadows onto a bright green meadow dotted with sheep. And in the foreground the big old house with its faded brick, painted columns, and tall, high windows seemed to reach out to them, and welcome them home. Bridget and Lindsay shared a glance as they pulled up in front of the wide front steps, each of them understanding what the other was thinking: I can’t believe we live here.

Rebel charged up from his post underneath the porch in full voice, turf flying under his paws and saliva spraying from his snarling muzzle. He skidded to a stop before the SUV, focused a full ten seconds of furious, lunging barking at the right front tire, and then, tail wagging, casually walked away.

Bridget turned off the engine and sat there for a moment, taking it all in. “It is good to be home,” she said fervently.

“So good,” agreed Lindsay with a sigh. She hoisted her purse over her shoulder and opened the door. “And I am dying for a shower.”

“I never understood how a hospital could make you feel so filthy. I don’t think I’ll ever get the smell of disinfectant out of my hair.”

The two women got out of the car, slammed their doors closed, and then stood there, noses wrinkling, eyebrows drawing together, looking around.

“What is that smell?” Lindsay said at last.

“Did Noah forget to clean the chicken yard?”

“A commercial chicken plant wouldn’t smell this bad.” Lindsay looked at Bridget uneasily. “It couldn’t be the goat?”

Bridget guarded her nose and mouth with her hand. “It would take more than a goat—or a herd of goats—to smell like that. Besides, nanny goats don’t smell.”

“Then what—?”

“It smells like ... like fertilizer.” Bridget’s eyes widened slowly as she turned to Lindsay. “You don’t suppose ... ?”

“Surely not.” Lindsay drew in a cautious breath and coughed, spreading her fingers over her own nose. “I told Dominic we were having company tomorrow.”

“We can’t serve lunch on the porch with this—this smell!” Alarm was rising in Bridget’s eyes, and her voice. “We can’t even have them sit on the porch!”

“I don’t think that will be a problem.” Lindsay’s voice was muffled by her fingers. “Nobody’s going to want to get out of the car.”

They hurried up the front porch with their hands over their faces and closed the front door behind them quickly. They were met by the sight of Noah and Ida Mae lugging a mattress around the corner where the grand staircase spilled into the foyer, moving toward the sunroom.

“What are you doing?” Bridget gasped.

Ida Mae gave her an impatient look as she shuffled along with her shoulder to the mattress. “Stands to reason, don’t it, that girl is going to need some place to sleep when she comes home? And she can’t climb stairs with her leg in plaster. So we set her up a temporary little place in the sunroom. It don’t get too terrible hot there this time of year, but just in case, I whipped up some curtains on that sewing machine of yours.”

For a moment, Lindsay was too stunned to react. “Using the calico?”

“There was plenty of it.”

Lindsay shook off her dismay and hurried forward to help. “I know you’re as strong as an ox, Ida Mae, and you can leap tall buildings at a single bound, but let me do this, okay?”

Ida Mae relinquished her place to Lindsay, both hands pressed to the small of her back. “About time you got here,” she said. “Next thing you know I’ll be in traction, myself.”

Bridget pressed a hand to her heart, her eyes misting