by Katie Ashley
As the emotions overwhelmed me, I buried my head in my hands. For the second time in twenty-four hours, I sat at a desk sobbing uncontrollably. When I finally came back to myself, I was a snotty mess. After reaching for a tissue, I swiped my eyes before blowing my nose. I didn’t know how long I’d been sitting there crying at Papa’s desk. In some ways, it felt like forever and in others, it felt like I had just sat down. If just being in his office had this effect on me, how would I make it through wake and funeral?
With an agonized sigh, I pushed the chair back and rose to my feet. Just as I turned to start to the door, the phone rang. The moment the shrill ring echoed through my ears I felt a strange pull to answer it. For the life of me, I didn’t understand why. Before it could go to voicemail, I reached over and snatched the receiver. “Hello?”
“Hey Mandie, this is Roy Wallace. I need Doc Beasley out here. I gotta breech calf, and I can’t for the life of me get it turned.”
The request sent the knife of grief twisting further in my chest. I cleared my throat. “This isn’t Mandie, and Dr. Beasley isn’t here.”
“Well, if he’s out on rounds, can you get word to him to come?”
I shuttered my eyes in pain. I’d give anything in the world if I could. “No. I can’t. Papa—I mean, Dr. Beasley passed away yesterday.”
“Oh no. I sure hate to hear that. He wasn’t just a wonderful vet. He was a fine man.”
“Yes, he was.”
“Please pass along my thoughts and prayers to the family.”
“I will.”
“What about Doc Kisick?”
“Unfortunately, he’s on vacation at the moment. He won’t be back until tomorrow evening.”
At the loud baying of a cow, Roy let out a juicy curse. “I just don’t know what I’m going to do. This heifer has got to be seen. You wouldn’t happen to know of any other vets, would you?”
I bolted upright in the chair. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Oh good. I hope he isn’t too far away.”
“Actually, you’re talking to her.”
Silence echoed on the line. I could only imagine Roy was contemplating whether or not he wanted to subject his cow to a “lady doctor”. Female veterinarians faced the same narrow-minded prejudices that women did in the medical field. Especially in backwoods areas like Hayesville.
Just as I was about to ask if he was still there, Roy coughed. “I ain’t been to town for a few weeks, but did Doc Beasley hire a new vet?”
“No, he didn’t. I’m Peyton Beasley, his granddaughter.”
“Little Peyton that used to run around his office with a stethoscope around her neck?”
I smiled at the image. “That was me.”
“Well, I’ll be darned. I don’t think I’ve seen you in ten years. You were supposed to marry the St. James boy, weren’t you?”
At the mention of Declan, I tensed. “I was,” I bit out. I don’t know why I was surprised Roy mentioned my infamous jilting. It was one of the top three things Hayesville residents seemed to remember about me after being Valedictorian and Homecoming Queen.
“I think your grandfather told me you were a vet in Atlanta.”
“I am. I work at the one of the top animal and surgical centers there.”
“Isn’t that somethin’? I sure would be honored for you to come out and look at my cow.”
Shifting the phone between my shoulder and cheek, I reached for the notepad on Papa’s desk. “What’s your address?” As Roy related it to me, I scribbled it down. “Give me about twenty minutes.
“Okay. I’ll see you then.”
When I hung up from Roy, a renewed sense of purpose filled me. Thank you, Papa. Roy would be honored for me to tend to his cow. All because of you. I hustled out of Papa’s office, and went straight to the supply closet. Although it had been at least ten years since I’d been inside, nothing had changed in his meticulous organization. Some of the tools and medicines had been updated, but I knew exactly where to go to find the necessary materials to deliver a breech calf.
Once I had gathered everything, I plopped it all down on the counter. “Okay, let’s see. Halter and rope? Check. OB gloves? Check. Lubricant? Check. Roll cotton? Check. OB Straps and Handles? Check.” I turned and went over to the medicine cabinet. After taking out some oxytocin and epinephrine, I surveyed the room for an extra medical bag. I knew Papa’s would be at home or in his car since he always liked to be prepared.
After finding an extra bag in the corner, I packed up the materials. On my way out of the storage room, I grabbed an empty bucket. Satisfied that I had the necessary tools, I started for the back door. At the sound of my heels clicking down the tile floor, I froze. Glancing down at my feet, I shook my head.
There was no way my heels would make it. I’d be sinking in the pastureland the moment I stepped out of my car. Sitting the materials down, I headed back into Papa’s office. Thankfully, he kept a few pairs of Wellie’s. Although they would be a little big, I grabbed a pair and tucked them under one of my arm pits. With my free hand, I punched in the alarm code before grabbing the medicine bag and bucket.
A feeling of heightened anticipation washed over me as I punched in Roy’s address on the GPS. It was quite unexpected considering the last eighteen hours had been spent smothered in a cloud of grief.
Roy’s farm was about fifteen minutes north of Papa’s office. Once I began making the familiar curves and turns along the country road, the high of anticipation left me. In its wake was choking bitterness. I knew this area all too well. It was where Declan had grown up.
Glancing out the window, I could almost envision me sitting on the back of one of his ATVs as we kicked up clouds of dirt while tearing through the pasture. Other times I would be astride one of their horses as we rode along the sixty acres his family owned. We’d fallen in love on that land.
Fuck. This was a bad idea. It was one thing to have to come to Hayesville to deal with my grief. Since I’d grown up a town kid, my area of interaction would have been regulated to five-mile radius of Main Street. Taking Roy Wallace’s call had thrown me right into Declan’s world.
Once the GPS directed me to the faded mailbox at the end of a long, gravel drive, I eased my car off onto the shoulder. Swinging my legs out of the car, I deposited my heels and then slid on the Wellie’s. As I was gathering my materials, a voice to my right bellowed hello.
I jerked my head up to search for the voice. Roy Wallace leaned against the gate. In his faded denim overalls, Atlanta Braves baseball cap, and jaw full of tobacco, he appeared every bit the stereotypical backwoods farmer.
“Mr. Wallace I presume?” I asked as I lumbered up to him. The oversized boots were not helping my gait on the uneven terrain.
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned as he extended his hand. “But call me Roy.”
“Peyton Beasley. Nice to meet you.”
After shifting his chaw of tobacco, Roy’s gaze dropped from mine to trail down my body. Just when I thought he was getting slightly pervy, he motioned to me. “You gonna do this in your fancy clothes?”
Now it was my turn to glance down. Shit. In my haste, I’d forgotten to bring an apron to protect my clothes. My black pantsuit wasn’t exactly “fancy” as Roy called it, but it was one of my more expensive outfits considering I lived in scrubs.
“I suppose I am.”
He jerked his thumb to the driveway. “I could get you an extra pair of my overalls. Maybe even a pair of the coveralls I use when I’m working on the farm equipment.”
Normally, I would have dismissed his suggestion, but considering the fact I had to be at the funeral home later, the last thing I needed to do was show up with bovine blood spatter or amniotic fluid on me. “You know, I think the coveralls would be wonderful. Thank you.”
Roy nodded. “Be back in a jiffy.”
While he went after the coveralls, I checked in on my patients back in Atlanta. I was grateful to hear everyone was doing well, including Barney after his t
ango with the Ben Wa ball. I chose to ignore a text from Kieran asking me how I was doing.
When Roy returned, I stepped into the faded blue coveralls that were dotted with grease and motor oil. Once I zipped them up, I found Roy grinning at me. “Not my style?” I asked.
He laughed. “No, I’d just thinking you look sight better in those than I do.” He patted the slight bulge of his belly. “I’m not as fit as I used to be.
“While I appreciate the compliment, I’m sure you totally rock these.”
Motioning me with his hand, I followed Roy into the pasture. After hauling about a half a mile, we came to the top of a hill that ran along the woods. Although several cows were milling around, I noticed the pregnant heifer right away. “Let me take a closer look,” I told Roy. A “closer look” in veterinarian speak meant an internal exam, and between the two holes to choose from, I was going in the ass.
It had been a considerable amount of time since I’d worked with cows, or in this case been up to my shoulder in a cow’s ass, but some aspects of veterinarian medicine you never forgot. I was in middle school the first time I’d slid on one of the industrial sized OB gloves that looked like a giant condom. Under Papa’s tutelage, I had delivered my first breech calf. I’d learned it’s best to go through the rectum first to assess the situation before rooting around in the vag. The fact I didn’t lube the glove up enough and took a back hoof to my mouth full of braces also helped me to remember the proper procedures.
Today I made sure to pour plenty of lube across my condom-clad arm. After easing my way inside, I noted the signs of distress. After pulling my arm out, I looked at Roy. “Okay, first, I’m going to give her an epidural to top her from straining so she’s not pushing against me. I also think some epinephrine couldn’t hurt because it’ll help her uterus to relax.”
Roy nodded. “I knew I could keep pulling on the calf’s leg all day, but I was worried about tearing her womb.”
“You made the right call,” I replied, as I dug the medications and needles out of my bag. After measuring out the proper doses, I administered the medicines. Now it was time to get down to business birthing the calf.
After reapplying the lube to my arm, I went in the birth canal this time. As I was turning the calf, I heard the sound of something coming through the brush. At the sound of conversation coupled with the snort of a horse, I surmised it must be some riders on horseback.
“I’ll be damned. Peyton Beasley, is that you?”
Fuck me with a chainsaw. I recognized that voice. I’d know the deep timbre anywhere. It had haunted me all these years. At the sound of the voice, I became a full-fledged Peyton statue. All of the pain and mortification and anger converged in that moment leaving me paralyzed. I couldn’t blink, least of move. I just stood staring at the cow’s ass with my arm buried in its vagina while wishing I could sink beneath the grass and manure.
With my arm still engaged, I threw a glance over my shoulder. “Declan,” I acknowledged. There was no way in hell I would dare say it was nice seeing him. To be polite, I could lie about a lot of things, but that wasn’t one of them.
His expression saddened. “I was very sorry to hear about Harris passing. He was a good man,” he said sincerely.
“Thank you.”
“I assume his funeral is what brings you back to town after all these years.”
“Yes, that’s the reason.”
He jerked his chin at me. “But what are you doing now?”
“I’m violating a heifer. What does it look like I’m doing?” I snapped.
The corners of his lips quirked up. “You never were kinky when we were together.”
I gasped. Who the fuck does he think he is? “I cannot believe you have the audacity to stand there cracking jokes about our past considering what you did to me.”
Declan opened his mouth, but any sound coming out of it was drowned out by the agitated mooing of the heifer. Apparently, the tension I was feeling eternally had correlated to my grip inside her. After vocally telling me off, she raised one of her legs and nailed me in the thigh.
The force sent me off balance. What happened next will remain a mystery to me. Maybe because I’ve never quite grasped all the laws of physics and motion. One minute I was upright, reeling from the pain of having a hoof to my thigh while trying to stay upright, and the next I was face-planting into a pile of cow manure.
Yes, you read that right. I was lying in a pile of literal shit in front of the man who had treated me like shit. I had just fallen one rung below the seventh ring of Hell.
Strong male hands came under my armpits and hoisted me upright. When I was once again on my feet, I swiped my face on the back of my arm. I could barely see since my eyes were still encrusted with a mixture of dirt and cow shit. Blinking through my clouded vision, I couldn’t believe my savior had come in the form of Declan.
“Jesus, are you okay?”
After jerking my chin up, I flipped a strand of manure encased hair over my shoulder. “I’m perfectly fine, thank you. I certainly didn’t need your help.”
Declan smirked at me. “Same old ball-busting Peyton.”
I jabbed a shit-covered finger at him. “You’re damn right, I am. One might say I’m even more ball-busting. It’s the one good thing that came out of your cowardly ass jilting me at the altar.”
My comment wiped the amusement off Declan’s face. Regret momentarily flashed in his eyes. “Peyton, I—”
“If you will excuse me, I have a breech calf to deliver. Unlike you, I honor my promises.” I then turned back to the heifer. When I dared a glance at Roy, his eyes were as wide as saucers. If he didn’t close his mouth, he was going to catch flies.
“Nice seeing you, Mr. Wallace,” Declan said.
As I attended to the cow, I heard his footsteps go back over to his horse. A few moments later he was racing through the brush. Inwardly, I wanted to crumple onto the pasture floor, roll into a fetal position, and bawl my eyes out. But I had a job to do and no man, not even the one who had shattered my heart into pieces, was going to stop me from doing that.
Nodding at Roy, I said, “Let’s do this.”
Chapter Four
You know the old saying about how you can’t go back home again? Well, you certainly can’t go back home again covered in cow shit and stained with afterbirth. As soon as I’d dragged my wounded pride back to my car, I’d called Becca. Thankfully, she hadn’t left for the funeral home yet. Since I figured it would be easier to explain what happened in person, I kept my story short.
Becca lived two streets over from Papa’s practice. When I pulled into the driveway, I found her husband’s police cruiser in the driveway. Unlike me, Becca’s high school sweetheart, Anthony, had shown up on their wedding day, and they were going on two years of wedded bliss.
With my roller board trailing behind me, I limped up the front walk. When I got to the steps, Becca came out on the porch. “Oh my God! What happened to you?”
I was accosted by a ghost from my past. “A heifer with a breeched calf.”
Becca furrowed her dark brows at me. “Huh?” Narrowing her eyes, she asked, “Are you limping?”
Where the heifer had nailed my thigh was throbbing, so I ended up hobbling up the front porch steps. “As a matter of fact, I am.” I the related to Becca what had happened when I’d gone by Papa’s practice.
“Only you would go deliver a calf two hours before we were due at the funeral home.”
“What choice did I have? Roy could have lost both the calf and the heifer.”
She gave me a sad smile. “I know. You would have made Papa so proud.” Although she opened her arms to hug me, her nose wrinkled at both my shit smell and soiled clothes.
I held my hand up. “We can forgo the official homecoming until after I’ve had a shower.”
Becca giggled and that small sound warmed me. “Come on. Let’s get you inside and cleaned up.” She turned and opened the front door so I could pass through. Although I’d see
n pictures, it was the first time I’d ever been inside Becca’s house. That fact made me feel both selfish and guilty. Like I should have swallowed my pride regarding Declan and come back to Hayesville to see her first home.
Compared to my streamlined townhouse in the city, it was much more understated. But every inch of the farmhouse décor and homey feel was Becca. She was the quintessential small-town girl. “Your house is just as beautiful in person as the pictures.”
Beaming with pride, Becca said, “Thanks.” After eyeing my shit-stained form again, she said, “Anthony’s getting ready in our bathroom, so I’ll get you set up in the guest bath.”
“At this point, I’ll take a water hose out back or even a pressure washer. Anything to get the manure off.”
Throwing me a wicked glance over her shoulder, Becca said, “I could take you over to Macland’s Car Wash. They’re still old school with the brushes.”
I laughed as we started up the stairs. “I might take you up on that if the shower doesn’t work.”
After we reached the landing, I followed her down the hallway. When we got to the bathroom, Becca turned on the light for me. “It’s all yours.”
Nodding, I pulled my suitcase inside with me. When I caught a glance at myself in the mirror, I grimaced. While I might’ve looked pretty damn good before my face plant, my current image was the one Declan would be left with. I’m not sure why I cared what he thought of me. After all, he hadn’t thought enough of me to show up on our wedding day ten years ago.
“Can you bring me a trash bag for this suit?”
Becca’s eyes widened. “You’re not throwing it away, are you?”
“Actually, I planned on soaking it at Mom and Dad’s before I took it to the cleaner’s.” I cocked a brow at her. “Unless you want me to do it here.”
Holding up a hand, Becca shook her head. “Nope. That’s all right.” She jerked her thumb at the door. “One trash bag coming up.”
“Thanks, little sis.”
Once Becca started down the hallway, I closed the door. After stripping out of my clothes, I slid under the scalding hot stream of the water. I didn’t start to feel human again until I’d washed my hair three times. I also scrubbed up and rinsed probably five times. Sure, I came in contact with animal feces on a daily basis. It was unavoidable. However, your average dog or cat didn’t produce the quantity that cows did.
