Turning her attention back to the conversation after watching a brilliant red cardinal fly into a wall of evergreens was one of the hardest things she'd ever done.
"Can pregnant women ride snowmobiles, darlin'?” Cody repeated, his half grin adorable in the rear view mirror.
"I don't know. I've never ridden one before, pregnant or not."
"We'll ask Duane,” Trevor said, as they turned onto a precision cleared driveway with a charming, cabin shaped mailbox and little shed at the end. “Looks like he let Paul off full bed rest. About damn time."
"Who are Duane and Paul?” Comfortable under her jacket and Michael's truck coat with the heat blowing steady, she was ready for a few more answers. “Wait, Paul's your dad, right? He had a heart attack."
"It was a minor one. He calls it an ‘episode’ to downplay it sometimes, but Duane never forgets to remind him how close he was to a code blue,” Cody answered. “And they are both our dads, Thomas too."
"Our mother's name is Mary,” Trevor added. “And snowmobiles are just about the only way to get around here sometimes."
"Oh, so that's why you think this can work,” she said, forgetting about the snowmobiles as relief flooded her. She wished the men had mentioned they had more than theory to back their relationship aspirations. “Your parents have a plural marriage."
"Yep. Polyandry, it's called with multiple husbands. They've been together thirty-seven years. Paul figured in our teens we'd go this route too. He always said to be patient and we'd know the right woman when we found her,” Michael told her. He helped her adjust more snuggly between his legs, stretched over the back bench seat as the ride pushed past the hour mark. “He was right."
"And Mom is going to be thrilled, another hen in the house and two baby girl chicks on the way,” Trevor added.
"Oh, my goodness, that's your house?” Poppy asked, ignoring Trevor's words because the sudden presence of multiple father figures in their lives was an unexpected turn she couldn't think about. The trees had parted, and the sight before her was enough to make anyone go off topic. “It's beautiful."
"Yeah. Thanks. We built it three years ago with our own twelve hands. There would have been fourteen, but Mom decided to supervise after the dads almost came to blows over grout colors,” Trevor explained. “I broke my damn thumb putting in the kitchen cabinets and couldn't work for days."
"It's that hard to play video games with a sore thumb?” she asked.
He wiggled them both theatrically. “It's a little hard to work the controls in a thumb cast. And it was my space bar hitting thumb too, so programming was a pain."
"Mom might have helped after the great grout fiasco,” Michael added, “but Trevor dropped a box of nails on her foot and Paul almost ran her over with the skid loader.” Poppy laughed because the affection in his tone assured her they'd laughed too. “It was for the best in the end really, things got real ugly for a while when Duane tried to drive it."
A huge log structure with a high awning covering part of the circle drive stood proudly at the end of the road, imposing in its size but in a hospitable style. There looked to be two wings on either side of a tall A-frame axis, each with its own three car garage, all well lit and welcoming. Log facades were popular in Texas. Some even paid to have the real things trucked in to build homes with, but Poppy had never seen one with such character.
Lights blinked to life as the truck approached. Through the uncovered windows Poppy could see figures moving around, the isolated spot offering more privacy than any curtains.
Several buildings surrounded the house. She recognized a machine shed, chicken coop and barn down a split of the driveway a bit further up the road. They were all bright red, just like she thought farm buildings should be, and covered in fresh white snow. It was like something off a cocoa advertisement or a Currier and
"Can pregnant women ride snowmobiles, darlin'?” Cody repeated, his half grin adorable in the rear view mirror.
"I don't know. I've never ridden one before, pregnant or not."
"We'll ask Duane,” Trevor said, as they turned onto a precision cleared driveway with a charming, cabin shaped mailbox and little shed at the end. “Looks like he let Paul off full bed rest. About damn time."
"Who are Duane and Paul?” Comfortable under her jacket and Michael's truck coat with the heat blowing steady, she was ready for a few more answers. “Wait, Paul's your dad, right? He had a heart attack."
"It was a minor one. He calls it an ‘episode’ to downplay it sometimes, but Duane never forgets to remind him how close he was to a code blue,” Cody answered. “And they are both our dads, Thomas too."
"Our mother's name is Mary,” Trevor added. “And snowmobiles are just about the only way to get around here sometimes."
"Oh, so that's why you think this can work,” she said, forgetting about the snowmobiles as relief flooded her. She wished the men had mentioned they had more than theory to back their relationship aspirations. “Your parents have a plural marriage."
"Yep. Polyandry, it's called with multiple husbands. They've been together thirty-seven years. Paul figured in our teens we'd go this route too. He always said to be patient and we'd know the right woman when we found her,” Michael told her. He helped her adjust more snuggly between his legs, stretched over the back bench seat as the ride pushed past the hour mark. “He was right."
"And Mom is going to be thrilled, another hen in the house and two baby girl chicks on the way,” Trevor added.
"Oh, my goodness, that's your house?” Poppy asked, ignoring Trevor's words because the sudden presence of multiple father figures in their lives was an unexpected turn she couldn't think about. The trees had parted, and the sight before her was enough to make anyone go off topic. “It's beautiful."
"Yeah. Thanks. We built it three years ago with our own twelve hands. There would have been fourteen, but Mom decided to supervise after the dads almost came to blows over grout colors,” Trevor explained. “I broke my damn thumb putting in the kitchen cabinets and couldn't work for days."
"It's that hard to play video games with a sore thumb?” she asked.
He wiggled them both theatrically. “It's a little hard to work the controls in a thumb cast. And it was my space bar hitting thumb too, so programming was a pain."
"Mom might have helped after the great grout fiasco,” Michael added, “but Trevor dropped a box of nails on her foot and Paul almost ran her over with the skid loader.” Poppy laughed because the affection in his tone assured her they'd laughed too. “It was for the best in the end really, things got real ugly for a while when Duane tried to drive it."
A huge log structure with a high awning covering part of the circle drive stood proudly at the end of the road, imposing in its size but in a hospitable style. There looked to be two wings on either side of a tall A-frame axis, each with its own three car garage, all well lit and welcoming. Log facades were popular in Texas. Some even paid to have the real things trucked in to build homes with, but Poppy had never seen one with such character.
Lights blinked to life as the truck approached. Through the uncovered windows Poppy could see figures moving around, the isolated spot offering more privacy than any curtains.
Several buildings surrounded the house. She recognized a machine shed, chicken coop and barn down a split of the driveway a bit further up the road. They were all bright red, just like she thought farm buildings should be, and covered in fresh white snow. It was like something off a cocoa advertisement or a Currier and
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