"Ernie, why won't she eat?"
"I don't think she likes it here. She's always so sad and melancholy."
Susan looked at Ernie. She knew that he was talking about her and not the lamb. She was sad and melancholy. Her childhood home was burned to the ground. Her parents were missing. She was more than sad. She was miserable. Spring in the Highlands wasn't helping much either. One day it was overcast. One day it rained torrents. One day it snowed. When the sun finally did come out, the land was so muddy that Susan's feet were cold and wet just from looking out of the kitchen window. She frowned at her husband, who was giving her a small smile. Susan took a deep breath, and hoping Ernie didn't see, ran her palm across her stomach. She couldn't believe how much the baby had popped out. She hated getting bigger, and wearing all those baggy clothes at Hogwarts to try and hide it. At least here at the Loch, she didn't need to hide it, but Ernie's parents weren't thrilled with her pregnancy. She was sure that they were delighted at the prospect of becoming grandparents, but she still felt the cold looks that Mr. Macmillan gave her. He still thought she was a Galleon digger, who didn't care one whit about his son, and this baby was her way of remaining in the family. She couldn't blame him, really, but she knew the truth. She knew how much she and Ernie loved one another, and she also knew that given time, the Macmillans would come round. It might take a miracle for that to happen. She let out the breath she didn't realize she was holding, and looked at Ernie, who was staring at her.
"What can I do to help?" she asked quietly.
"You don't have to, Susan –"
"No, Ernie. I'd really like to help," she insisted, halfheartedly.
"Good. Just sit where you are."
She thought he was teasing her, and she made to get up, but he shook his head.
"No. Just sit there. I'll bring her to ya." He easily lifted the small lamb and carried her to Susan, depositing the ball of fuzz into her lap, kissing her softly as their heads brushed against one another. Susan ran her fingers through the lamb's tiny curls, looking at Ernie's hair and finally smiling at him. He handed her the bottle of milk, and helped her get the nipple into the lamb's mouth. She put one arm around the lamb's middle, and held the lamb against her body, feeling the intake and release of its breath, holding the milk bottle steady with her other hand. Soon, the only sounds in the barn were the mother sheep bleating and the little lamb suckling on the bottle held in Susan's delicate hand. The lamb rested against Susan's own little lamb still growing inside of her, and she felt the contentment that only a mother can feel as her newborn suckles at her breast. She looked at Ernie, and his smile was much broader now, and she knew that he was pleased. She knew the look on her face had changed. She felt different as she held this little lamb. She would love living here with his family and his animals and her husband and child. As the lamb finished off the bottle, she knew that things would be all right. Babies were miracles and miracles always found a way.
