by Abby Brooks
"So, little Claire." Annabelle finally sits as breakfast slows to a close. "Have you ever seen a chicken up close before?"
"I don't think so." She scrunches up her nose. "Have I, Mom?"
I shake my head. "Nope. Not once, not ever."
After having claimed a seat for all of one minute, Annabelle slides her chair back from the table and grabs Claire's empty plate. "Now that is a real shame because they are the silliest little cluckers you'll ever meet." She deposits the plate in the sink. "Do you mind if I take her out with me to gather eggs?" she asks me.
"Not at all. Are you sure you don't mind her tagging along?"
Mrs. Carmichael wipes her hand on the towel hanging from her front pocket before folding it and placing it on the counter. "Not even for a minute. Maggie used to love coming out to the henhouse with me."
Dean pauses with his last bite of sausage midway to his mouth, the fork frozen in air. Colton looks sharply at David. And David just smiles and wipes his face with his napkin before balling it up and dropping it on his plate.
"Thanks, Mom." He stretches his back and presses his hands to his stomach. "That was delicious, as always." He stands and clears his plate before refilling his coffee and then leaning against the counter.
"No problem, love." Annabelle wraps an arm around Claire's shoulders. "You ready to go giggle at some silly cluckers?"
Claire looks to me one last time and I nod my permission before they head out the door, Annabelle chattering merrily until the door swings quietly shut behind them.
"That door used to squeak open and slam shut, didn't it?" I ask, haunted by the sound I hear so clearly in my memory.
Colton laughs. "Not if Dad was sleeping, it didn't."
Dean sits back in his chair. "You and me remember things a little different. I think you mean to say 'only if Dad was sleeping.'" Dean shakes his head. "I'd drift off after a long day and one of you kids would come barreling in the house and that door would slam shut and wake me up every damn time."
David looks at me. "And by one of you kids, Dad means Colton. Sarah and I figured out early on that all was good if we slowed down enough to close the door quietly."
Colton rubs his hands together. "Fixing that door was my first real project around here, wasn't it?"
"Sure was." Dean nods once. "Best way to teach a lesson is through sweat and effort."
David grips the back of my chair and leans around me so I we can make eye contact. "So, Michelle. Are you ready to see the rest of the farm? Maybe get your hands a little dirty? I thought we could get some stuff out of the way here and then go to your house and see about fixing the door."
"Hell, yes." I nod. "Put me to work. I'd love to be useful. And the sooner we can get the door fixed, the better I’ll feel, I think." The thought of going back home at all makes me uncomfortable. After seeing it like that, my stuff strewn around so carelessly, my privacy violated, I’ll never feel safe there again.
Dean and Colton clear their plates and Dean offers to do the dishes, shooing us out of the way when I start looking for the sponge to help. David leads me outside into a crisp morning. Humidity is low, and the sun is warm, and the sky couldn't be clearer if this was a painting of an idyllic landscape. Somewhere off in the distance, I hear Claire giggling over the bleat of the goats. I take a breath and lift my face towards the sun.
"Normally, I'd start in the barn, feeding the animals," David says.
I smile. "Lead on."
Gravel crunches under our feet as we make our way towards the barn. We start by filling the bowls for the cats and checking that they have clean water, and then David introduces me to the goats.
"Their eyes fascinate me." I lean in close to study the creatures lining up to meet me, each pushing past the other in an effort to get closest. "They have rectangular irises. I can't stop looking at it."
"Their personalities are just as unusual." David leans on the door to the pen, his jeans hugging his thighs and his T-shirt accentuating his broad shoulders. When he bends down to scratch one of the goats under her chin, a private smile playing across his full lips, I commit the scene to memory.
David catches me staring. "Why, whatever could you be thinking about, darlin'?" he asks, his eyes roving hungrily over my body.
"What do you mean?" I look as sweet and innocent as I possibly can. "I was just watching you with the goats."
"If that's your goat-watching face, then you have a few dirty secrets I think you need to share with me." David abandons the goats, grabs the belt loops on my jeans, and pulls me into him.
"Eww! David." I press my hands to his chest. "It wasn't the goats I was thinking about."
"Yeah? Then just what, pray tell, were you thinking about?"
"I was busy thinking about how sexy you look." Talking about this kind of stuff makes me uncomfortable, but I know David likes it. And the more honest I am with him, the more I can admit I like it, too. What’s the point of feeling ashamed about telling David how attracted I am to him? "You look damn good in those jeans, so strong and confident, but then you’re so gentle with your animals." I shrug. "I like it."
David presses his forehead to mine. "Good." He slides his hands around my waist and presses my hips forward so I can feel how hard he is. "Ever done it in a barn before?"
I shake my head, my body answering the swell of his cock pressing into my belly with a surge of desire too strong to ignore.
David kisses my throat and then whispers in my ear. "Would you believe that I haven't either?"
"Does this mean I get to be a first for you?" The thought lights me on fire.
Instead of answering, David loops his fingers through my belt loops and leads me farther into the barn, towards a ladder in the corner that reaches up toward a shadowed loft. For a second, I wonder about hay getting into unmentionable places, but then he kisses me, and any and all objections dissipate like smoke on the wind.
DAVID
Up until today, barn sex sounded like the dirtiest, stickiest, smelliest way to grab a quickie. After today, it ranks right up there with sex on a back porch while drinking Shiraz off a woman's body.
I pick a strand of hay out of Michelle's hair. "So, it's not quite sex with goats, but they were within earshot. I hope that's enough to satisfy your weird livestock fetish."
Michelle's eyes widen and her jaw drops. Her shocked look is the most adorable thing I've ever seen, which is exactly why I plan to find more and more ways to shock her.
"I do not have an animal fetish, thank you very much." She covers her mouth with both hands and widens her eyes. "Was I that loud?" she whispers through her fingers. "I tried so hard to stay quiet, but you don't make it easy."
"I don't think everybody heard. I mean, Colton's trailer is really far away."
"You're messing with me, aren't you?" A pink flush flares across her cheeks. "You have to be messing with me."
I shrug. "Go right ahead and tell yourself whatever you need to feel better about it." I would keep teasing her about this all day if her adorable look of shock wasn't mutating into horror in front of my eyes.
Shit. I only want to help her stop taking everything so seriously. I don’t want to traumatize her while I’m doing it.
"I'm kidding." I brush her hair back off her forehead. "I just like to mess with you, but it's not worth if it doesn't make you laugh."
Michelle lets out a long breath. "I know you like to joke around, but you can't tease me about stuff like that. I was starting to wonder how I'd ever be able to look your mom or my daughter in the eyes again."
"I'm sure you'd move past it in time." I laugh and take her hand, drawing her towards me.
"You're something else, you know that?" Michelle slides her hands under my T-shirt and lightly draws her nails across my skin.
"Of course I know it." I give her my most charming smile. “And I'm glad to hear you're figuring it out, too."
We spend the rest of the day getting her house put back together and the next couple days go
smoothly as we work our way into an odd rhythm. Michelle's work schedule keeps her out late, and she and Claire don't come back to the farm until after ten most nights. Claire goes straight to bed and Michelle takes some time to wind down before she climbs into bed with me. I pretend to sleep through it, but even though she’s quiet, I wake up almost every time. I don't mind, though. I love having her stretched out beside me. Still mostly asleep myself, I listen as her breathing slows and I send a silent thank you out to whoever's listening before I drift off again. Michelle is a gift that I will not take for granted, and whether it’s God or the universe or some other mystical deity, I want them all to feel my gratitude.
My alarm goes off way too early to expect her to crawl out of bed with me, let alone help around the farm. But day after day, she shows up an hour or two after sunrise and works diligently at whatever task she pressures me into giving her. I'd love for her to sit and relax away the day until she leaves for work, but she insists she feels better in motion. Sometimes Claire comes along, or sometimes Mom asks to spend the day with her. Either way, I'm realizing just how much I like having them around.
Today is one of those fantastic mornings where the sun is bright and the humidity is low. It's a great day to check on the orchard and the pond, which gives me a great excuse to break out one of my favorite toys—my Raptor 700R SE, a four-wheeler I bought myself last year. Dad gives me hell because it's not designed for farm work, and he's right, even though I'd never admit that to him. He thinks I should have the heavy-duty Honda Rancher like he's had for as long as I can remember, but given the choice between going fast or being heavy duty, I'll choose speed every time. What is life if you can't break the rules and enjoy the hell out of it every now and then?
As I speed up the gravel drive towards the house, Michelle steps out on the porch, coffee in hand, shielding her eyes against the sun. She sees me coming and smiles, so I lay on the throttle and send a spray of dust and rocks shooting out behind me. The backend fishtails then gets traction. I come roaring up to stop in front of her.
"Good morning to you, too." She laughs, her eyes sparkling with humor.
"It was a fine enough morning, but it just got a whole lot better." I kill the engine so we don't have to yell to be heard and sit back. "You ever been on one of these things?"
Michelle shakes her head. "Nope."
"You want to?"
Her eyes go wide and I swear she's about to say no when she surprises me. "Sure."
"Really?"
She nods. "Yeah." She takes a long drink of her coffee and then lifts the mug. "Just let me put this away."
She disappears inside the house and reappears a few seconds later, a nervous smile tightening her eyes. I shift on the seat and pat the space behind me. "Climb on up," I say, and then offer her my hand.
She gets herself situated, shifting until she's comfortable. "Is there anything I need to know?" she asks, leaning around so she can look me in the eyes.
"Just hold on and don't let go." And with that, I bring the engine to life.
She wraps her arms around me and I pull them tighter, clasping her hands together so there's no doubt in my mind she's safe. Just to give her a taste of what's she's in for, I tap the throttle and we lurch forward. Michelle yelps and then tightens her grip, smashing herself against my back.
"You all set?" I ask.
"You better believe it."
I hit the gas, launching us towards the orchard because I know it used to be her favorite place. The wind whips past my ears, flinging my hair back off my face. I love this. My hand on the throttle. The roar of the engine. The trees blurring into one single line. Behind me, Michelle laughs and squeals as we whip past the long succession of trees. When we burst through the line at the other end of the orchard, I stop.
"You okay back there?"
Michelle leans forward. "How have I never done this before? I love it!"
"I had a feeling you would." I'm starting to understand that locked somewhere deep under all her manners and politeness, Michelle has a wild streak raked across her soul. She thinks she's afraid of the world, but I think she’s afraid of what might happen if she lets go. "You want to drive?" I ask.
"Who? Me?"
I spin so I can see her face. "No, silly. The guy in the trees."
She rolls her eyes, pretending to be exasperated. "You're kind of a sarcastic ass. Did you know that?" she asks and then gives my arm a squeeze. "Do you think I can?"
"Of course you can. Why couldn't you?"
She thinks about it for a second. "I don't know. I guess there isn't a reason why I can't."
"Exactly. The real question is, do you want to?"
She mulls it over. "Yes." She bites her bottom lip, draws her eyebrows together, and then nods. "I think I want to."
I chuckle. "That's not the most definitive of answers, but I’ll take what I can get."
I help her off and show her how to operate the clutch, the brake, and the throttle. "And you move these things to avoid hitting even bigger things." I swivel the handlebar back and forth.
"That's it?" she asks.
"That's it."
She climbs up into the driver’s seat and I talk her through everything one more time, letting her learn through touch and experience. She works the clutch and cycles through the gears without any trouble.
"All that's left is for you to crank the engine and get us moving."
Michelle brings the four-wheeler to life and drops it in gear.
"Go easy on the throttle until you're used to it." I wrap my arms around her. "But go ahead and take us back to the house."
She pushes on the gas and the four-wheeler creeps forward.
"Maybe not that easy." I laugh. “The trick is to respect it without being afraid of it.”
Michelle takes a long breath in and lets it out slowly before giving the four-wheeler enough gas to pick up speed. "Like that?" she calls out as we motor through the trees.
"You're doing great!" I press my lips just behind her ear as she shifts into the next gear. Emboldened by the encouragement, Michelle pushes us even faster, handling the machine with more and more confidence. By the time we pull up in front of the house, she's grinning from ear to ear.
"Oh my gosh, that was so much fun," she says, as I climb off the seat behind her. Her eyes are bright and her hair is wild. Excitement brought color into her cheeks, and then there’s that grin. My God, that grin. She's free and unfettered and so unapologetically happy that it makes me want to give her a million reasons to look just like this, day after day after day.
"I need to go out to the pond," I say. "Dad's four-wheeler is in the barn. Want to make a picnic and take Claire out to see the water? I'll take Dad's Rancher and she can ride with me. She's small enough that she can ride in front and I promise she’ll be completely safe.”
The smile on Michelle's face softens and her eyes hold mine. "I'd like that a lot."
"Me too." I'm surprised by how much I mean it. I didn't think life could get better than it already was. But now, with her here sharing my life? I wake up thanking God every day for the happiness she brings me. "You find Claire and I'll get Dad's Rancher ready, then we'll pack up some snacks together. Sound good?"
"Sounds good." Michelle climbs off the four-wheeler and heads into the house, pausing as she swings open the front door. "I still expect this thing to squeak when I pull it open," she says and then disappears into the house.
MICHELLE
David leads us across the farm at a slow enough pace for him and Claire to chat without having to shout over the wind. After a few minutes, we come to a stop in little wooded alcove surrounding a large pond. Willow trees arch over their reflections in the water, leaves dancing in the wind.
“When you mentioned a pond, I envisioned something small and covered in green goop and surrounded by weeds.” I sit back in my seat, rest my hands in my lap, and stare at the clear water surrounded by tall reeds. Peace settles over me.
"Look at that." Cla
ire points across the pond. "It's the biggest bird I've ever seen!"
"That’s a heron, isn’t it?" I look to David as I kill the engine.
He nods. "Sure is." He helps Claire off the front of his four-wheeler and then climbs off himself. "There're a few of them nesting around here.”
“The universe can’t stop sending signs, can it?”
David frowns. “What do you mean?”
“My grandmother is obsessed with herons. She has them all over her condo. Pictures. Statues. Knick-knacks.” I undo the straps holding our picnic supplies in place on the back of the four-wheeler. “According to her, they represent an ability to progress and evolve. She says their long, thin legs prove you don't need massive pillars to remain stable, you just have to be able to stand on your own.”
The day she told me that, Claire was only a few days old and I was recovering at her house after a nasty fight with Russell. She gave me a necklace, a long, delicate chain with a heron on the pendant. She pressed it into my hands, explaining the meaning while her eyes begged me to read between the lines and understand what she was trying to tell me. I didn't back then, but I do now.
"Can I go play in the water?" Claire asks, interrupting my thoughts.
I turn to David. "How deep does it get?"
Tension tightens the space between his eyes and his gaze flicks to Claire. "It gets pretty deep, pretty fast," he says, his voice taught and shallow and not right at all. "But..." He lifts his eyebrows and holds up a finger, all the things I thought I saw and heard disappearing so quickly I must have imagined them. "There's this pretty little place right here where you can wade a little and throw rocks."
He throws a quick glance at me before leading my daughter over to a spot where the water brushes against a little sandy outcropping of land. He kicks off his shoes and waits for her to do the same, holding her hand as they wade a few steps into the clear water. She laughs when he picks up a rock and skips it across the pond, and I set out the blanket and the food we brought while he shows her how to do it by herself.
