Finally Home by Lois Greiman

“It’s the only time he gets his fingernails clean.”
    â€œCan you dry, Soph?” Emily asked.
    â€œSure.”
    Ty didn’t glance her way. Standing beside her at the sink would be almost as horrible as sitting next to her, almost as hideous as an early morning ride down a sunlit trail or earning an A on a poetry project.
    â€œI’ll feed little Lumpkin then,” Colt said.
    â€œLumpkin?” Emily glanced at him.
    The cowboy shrugged. “I’m running out of names.”
    â€œI’m sure glad I didn’t ask for your input for Bliss.”
    â€œWell, I would have come up with something better than . . .” He glanced at the far wall, apparently thinking back to the traumatic months before the baby’s birth. “Ixapos.”
    â€œI was never going to name her Ixapos.”
    â€œI’m pretty sure it was in the mix for a while,” Colt said. “Sophie, wasn’t Ixapos one of the ten thousand options?”
    â€œI’m not sure,” she said, pouring the freshly rehydrated milk into a funnel that sat atop a glass bottle. “But I do remember an Enheduanna.”
    â€œEnheduanna.” Colt nodded. “That was it.”
    â€œWell, yeah! She was the first known author. It’s a revered nomenclature,” Emily said, using some of the ten-dollar words she’d practiced almost constantly during her pregnancy.
    â€œWere you hoping to scar her for life or just—”
    â€œHere you go,” Sophie said and handed the bottle to Colt before hurrying out of the room. “I’ll be right back.”
    â€œAnd wasn’t there a Beelzebub?” Colt asked, raising his voice after the departing girl. But she was already out of hearing.
    â€œOh, for Pete’s sake, there was no Beelzebub,” Emily said.
    â€œI’m pretty sure you’re wrong.”
    â€œWhy would I name her after the devil?” Emily asked and plunked the baby into Casie’s arms. Bliss stared at her, dark eyes serious as storm clouds beneath gathered brows.
    Casie’s expression softened. Reaching up, she smoothed her hand over the baby’s downy head, then sighed and closed her eyes as she cuddled Bliss against her heart.
    The kitchen went silent. Colt stood absolutely motionless, watching, expression unguarded as he held the forgotten bottle in one large hand.
    Ty glanced at Emily. Her eyes gleamed as if she’d just won the lotto, but in a second Colt jerked toward her with a scowl.
    She struggled to squelch her grin.
    â€œBethany,” she said.
    â€œWhat?”
    â€œI was going to name her Bethany.”
    â€œWho are you trying to kid?” he asked, seeming to come back to himself with some difficulty. “You never considered a single normal name in the whole twelve months you were pregnant.”
    â€œGestation’s only nine months,” she reminded him.
    â€œWell, it seemed like twelve.”
    â€œYou should try carrying an elephant around in your belly.”
    â€œNo matter how long it took, you did a first-rate job,” Casie said and smoothed the baby’s hair behind one seashell ear.
    â€œYeah,” Colt agreed, staring at the duo on the nearby chair. “Not half bad.”
    â€œDo you want to hold her?” Casie asked.
    Their gazes met for a second, calling a truce to whatever argument they had shared.
    Time stood still. The expression on Colt’s face was inexplicable, a nearly painful blend of hope and hopelessness. It made Ty almost hurt for him, though God knew there would never be anyone good enough for Casie Carmichael.
    â€œWhat? No!” Colt said, finally shaking himself free from Casie’s gaze. “I’m a manly man. Manly men don’t hold babies.”
    â€œShe’s really soft,” Casie said, and turning her face toward Bliss, drew in a deep breath. “And sweet-smelling.”
    â€œI like things hard,” Colt said. “And