The banging gets louder.
Stupid horse. I’m so freaking furious at him, I want to ship him off to a glue factory.
Yes, the animal lover in me is horrified at the thought, but the rest of me, the part of me seething with rage at how everything happened, isn’t surprised such a morbid idea crosses my mind.
I pause to take a few deep breaths, hoping all that yoga-will-center-you crap helps me feel a little less unhinged.
After changing Isabella’s diaper and dressing her in a cozy bodysuit, I feed her and strap her to my chest. Together we make the rounds on the property. As I trudge along, I bury my nose in her soft hair, and she nuzzles back, her chest heaving a small sigh.
But when we reach the chicken coop, she lifts her head, and her eyes brighten. She loves these little guys. A moment later, the girls come running, their clucks a musical chorus in an otherwise quiet morning. Isabella claps her pudgy hands, about as ecstatic to see our feathered friends as they are to see us.
“There’s my girl,” I whisper, relieved to see her smile, however briefly.
A few minutes later, I set her up in a makeshift playpen in the shade just outside the barn so she doesn’t breathe the dust when I clean the coop or Sampson’s stall.
All day, I find myself looking for them, expecting to see Mel and Cal come around the corner laughing. Or catch them kissing when they think they’re alone.
I smile. They were so good together!
When Eric and I broke up, Mel insisted that I come for a visit. “Give yourself a break from the campaign trail. It’s simpler here. Uncomplicated,” she told me over the phone.
The day I showed up at the farm, at loss for what to do, Mel opened the door, gave me a hug and told me I could crash here as long as I wanted. Mel was always like that, the big sister I never knew I needed.
My chest tightens as the memories underscore the bleak reality that she’s gone.
Shaking my head, I ignore the sting of tears as I brush out Sampson’s dark mane. I think back to my list and let the chores ground me. I have too much to do to lose it now. Way too much.
By noon, I’m dripping with sweat. I’ve lost weight since I’ve been here, but nothing like the last few days. By evening, I’m usually so tired, I’m numb.
But numb is better, because when I’m numb, this doesn’t hurt so much.
When the animals are fed and watered and the stable and coop are clean, I lumber into the house and put the baby down for a nap, one I could use myself. But it’s no use because I can’t sleep.
I’m cleaning the kitchen when my flip phone rings from the back pocket of my jeans. It’s Tori, my younger sister.
But when I answer, my dad’s gruff voice booms in my ear. “Katherine.” Ugh. Not who I want to talk to right now. I love my dad, I really do, but he can be so overprotective. Like right now. “So you’re going to stay there with a strange man?”
“Daddy, I can’t exactly pack up and leave.”
“Look, I loved Melissa too. This accident was a terrible, terrible thing. But this—you living there with a stranger—this isn’t right. You don’t know him at all. What if he’s crazy or some kind of pervert?”
I roll my eyes. “He’s Cal’s brother. I promise he sounds perfectly sane. Besides, that’s all the more reason to stay and watch Bella to be sure she’s okay. I owe it to Mel. I don’t know if he’ll want me around, but I’d like to help get the baby gets settled before I worry about myself. I promise I’ll text Tori every day so you can rest assured the guy didn’t go all Hannibal Lecter on me.”
“Chingao. That’s not funny, mija.”
He must be pissed if he’s cursing in Spanish. I want to laugh because he’s being absurd. Like hell I’m leaving Bella. That’s not happening until I’m confident she’ll be okay with her uncle. Besides, I heard enough about Brady from Cal to know he’s not a lunatic. A little overbearing, perhaps, but not a psycho. At least I’m used to dealing with overbearing.
As I listen to my dad list the reasons why staying here is a bad idea, I fight the temptation to ask if he needs money. Usually my sister lets me know if things get bad at home so I can sneak her some funds, but I’m worried she hasn’t given me the heads up because I’ve been so upset about Mel and Cal. My parents work non-stop, but minimum wage jobs don’t get bills paid if you’re sick or your car breaks down or if there’s some other kind of emergency.
But my father is a proud person, and a man deserves to have dignity, so I bite my tongue, which proves difficult when he asks about my ex.
“Maybe you can still work things out,” he wonders aloud.