"Cher? Cher, ou est le sapin?" Sammy's voice came ringing out, loud and sure and good enough it made Beau stop and blink.
"The Christmas tree? I was waiting on you, baby. To help me pull it out. It’ll be a two-man job." He nodded over. "You have a good afternoon with Landon?"
"Mo bien, mesi." Sammy kept jabbering at him, ninety percent of the words in patois and Beau wasn’t sure what to do with that.
"Baby, you hit your head or something?" Were you out riding?
"No." Sam stopped, closed his eyes. "Talking over Landon and the words worked for Cajun. New brain spots, yeah?"
"Well, I’ll be. Yeah, just like you can sing without stressing." He had to grin. Doc always just told him that the brain was a magical thing and to take what he got and be grateful. "Talk away, then. I got me enough of the old words to follow along."
Sam came to him, grinning. "Mo lame twa."
"Oh, I love you, too, baby.
It was like a Christmas miracle, Sammy’s voice filling their house, that happiness just chasing him like a song.