close to me.”
“I bet they do.” Etta set her purse on the floor near the side table just inside the door and went further into the house. “I’ll take them if you want.”
“We’ve just been waiting for Auntie Etta to show up, haven’t we?” Ida rushed toward her and hugged Etta. The scent of lemons and soap came with her, and Etta scanned the kitchen behind her. It didn’t look terrible, but it wasn’t professionally cleaned either.
It was exactly how a kitchen should look that had a busy family living out of it.
Ida stepped away and started to untie the sling around her waist. “If you’ll just grab Johnny,” she said, and Etta reached to do just that.
“He’s so big,” Etta said, taking the three-week-old into her arms. “I almost brought Stetson, but Sammy says they’re going to take him to cut his hair today when they pick up Lincoln from school.”
“His first haircut,” Ida said, smiling fondly. “I don’t think these two will do that for a while. Poor Judy is still bald as a billiard ball.” She laughed lightly as she removed the sleeping baby girl from the sling. “Go sit down, Etta. I know you want them both.”
Etta did what she said, because she did want both babies on her lap. She sighed as she sat down, though she’d been driving for thirty minutes in a seated position. She shifted Johnny to her right side, and Ida settled Judy on her left.
She grinned down at the babies, both of whom remained asleep. “You must’ve worn them out this morning already.” She beamed over to Ida, who’d sank into the recliner, her legs tucked underneath her.
“I took them to get their pictures done,” she said. “Whitney Wilde has this whole studio over on the east side of town, in the cutest little farmhouse. You would love it, Etta.”
“Yeah? Does she just shoot there?”
“She does all of her wedding photography there. Her newborns can be outside or inside, and we did some in both areas. She’s got these antique milk cans with wheat coming out of them, and tons of cowboy props.”
“Sounds amazing,” Etta said. “Did you do cowboy pictures?”
“No, I talked to Whitney several times, and we wanted something a little more classic.” Ida continued to talk about the photos, and how they’d taken a duo shot with Brady’s police hat.
“I can’t wait to see them,” Etta said as Johnny grunted and groaned, pulling his tiny little legs up into his body. She tucked him closer and wobbled her elbow to bounce him back to sleep. He yawned, and that was the cutest little action Etta had ever seen.
Her heart melted, and a longing sigh came out of her mouth.
“Tell me what’s new with you,” Ida said, and Etta looked up.
“When do you take the babies in again?” she asked instead. “I can come help you.”
Ida blinked at her, her smile faltering. Etta wished she could pull the offer back inside her mouth, but she’d also learned not to try to cover up a blunder with more words. So she remained silent too.
“You don’t have to—I want to know about you too,” Ida said. “I literally can’t talk about the babies all day, every day.” She reached up and released her hair from the pretty bun. “It’s all anyone wants to know about. How’s Judy eating now? Is Johnny still hogging all of your milk?” She shook her head and looked up at the ceiling.
Etta knew that tell, and that look meant Ida was trying to get her tears to go back inside her eyes.
“I don’t want to talk about the babies. You’re my best friend and my sister. Tell me something that has nothing to do with a pregnancy, a baby, a sister-in-law, a brother, a cousin, or anything at the ranch.”
Etta’s mind raced. “That’s my whole life, Ida.”
“No, it’s not,” she said firmly. “We’ve always had more to our lives than family and that ranch.”
“I live there now,” Etta said. “I don’t think I’m as separated as I used to be.” She shrugged and snuggled Judy closer too. “I don’t hate it. I get to bring Stetson down to my suite some nights, and it’s nice to not be alone in the room.”
Ida gave her a soft smile. “Remember when you told me you couldn’t wait to graduate so you could finally have a bedroom of your own?”
Etta’s smile popped onto her face. “You’re kind of a slob, Ida.”
“And you’re so proper and prim,” she shot