Dead in Love

by Colby Van Wagoner

  Dead in love

  By

  Colby Van Wagoner

  © Colby Van Wagoner 11/25/2011

  Cover photo by McKenna Brooks © 2011, maintaining ownership and copy write. Used by permission only. All rights reserved by McKenna Brooks.

  All events and characters in this book are fictitious and bear no resemblance to any person living, or DEAD! Any similarity is purely co-incidental and the events are not meant to discredit any of the facilities entities or towns involved in the story.

  Chapter One

  Everyone has a daily routine. What I do today, I did yesterday and almost every day before that, never really thinking much about the routine. Yesterday was no different, a creature of habit, or so I thought. I followed my regular routine, do you ever get tired of doing the same thing, every day, over and over? Sometimes I do. I woke up, prepared my coffee and a light breakfast of eggs and toast. My two golden labs, Sammy and Sally, ran through the backyard chasing each other and fighting over a stick, knowing that it was soon their breakfast time as well. Sammy would drop the stick and Sally would swoop in, snatch it up and make a run from Sammy.

  Sally was named after my mother, who passed away from cancer seven years before. She remained in the hospital for the last months of her life and up to the bitter end, fought very hard. Sammy received his name, because as a puppy he ran into the kitchen, somehow jumped up on the table and ate my lunch. I usually have a sandwich and some chips, the sandwich; I nickname “my Sammy.” So when he ate my Sammy, I yelled out, “my Sammy!” The name stuck and the two have been the best of friends, since they were both puppies.

  I entered the kitchen pantry, opened the 40 pound bag of dog chow and dipped a large, plastic Tupperware dish inside, pulling out a generous portion of dog food from the bag. Sammy and Sally circled their dog dishes, waiting for me to empty the food into the containers. Their tails were wagging faster than usual, showing their excitement and expectations for kibble. I proceeded to fill both of their bowls and place the Tupperware container back into the pantry. I really need to clean out the pantry; it is the room in the house that is always messy and dirty. All those little dust bunnies and broken up chips and pretzel particles gather up quicker than the list of chores I need to get to.

  Next was my least favorite part of the morning routine, shaving. Yes, it is true; I would rather drive to the grocery store and have to purchase groceries, in the midst of hundreds of crying, screaming babies. At least I could grow and produce most of the food supplies I needed on my ranch. For years, Sammy and Sally have been my pets, kids, roommates and companions. When she was a year old, Sally was caught in some old fencing wire, out near the edge of my farm. Sammy ran to the house and pawed at the backdoor. I could sense he was panicked and immediately knew something was wrong, because Sally was usually at his side, or close by.

  I ran into the corn field and reached the end of my property. Sally was tangled in the rusty fencing, struggling to get free of the wire, which was embedded deep into her skin. Blood was everywhere and she had a helpless look in her eyes. I reached down and calmed her with a soothing voice. She whimpered in return and knew that I was there to help. I reached for my belt and pulled my Leather man from its case. Slowly, I began to cut the barbed wire from around her legs. After cutting the wire, it would come loose and blood would flow from the wound, so I needed to be prepared. My heart was pounding in my chest and it was filled with panic and anxiety.

  After finishing with the wire, she came free and was not eager to get up. I picked her up and carried her back to the house, Sammy following close behind. He looked concerned and after smelling the blood on the ground, ran into the house. I stumbled over the clumps of dirt in the field, carrying Sally into the bathroom, laying her on a towel I had grabbed in the rush to tend to her wounds. Sammy was already in the bathroom, breathing frantically and pacing back and forth, pausing to smell Sally and lick her wounds. There were two longer wounds on her hind legs, a large gash on one of her front legs and a slice across her forehead. I felt so bad for not being more aware of the dangers, presented to my dogs that were on my ranch.

  I reached under the sink, into the cabinet and pulled out my first aid kit. I served 4 years, as a medic in the military and seeing Sally’s wounds, I knew that some of them would require stitches. Above the sink, was my electric razor and after wiping away all the blood from her fur, I shaved the wounds that looked like they needed the most attention. I quickly poured peroxide over the wounds and wiped them clean. Sally whimpered from the pain. After that I used some Betadine, pouring it over the wounds and then wiping the excess from her cuts.

  Sammy walked from the bathroom and lay just outside the door, keeping his eye closely on his sister and my actions. I pulled the stitching material from the first aid kit and began carefully pushing the needle through her skin. At that point, she made no sound or sudden movement to escape the confines of the small bathroom. I stitched for what seemed to be hours and after finishing, left the bathroom and went into my bedroom. I had a small trauma kit from my military days and pulled it from the closet. Walking back into the bathroom, neither Sammy nor Sally had left their positions. Sammy was concerned and Sally had lost too much blood and was too weak to move. I removed a small intravenous bag and needle from the kit and prepared the needle. In the past, a needle would make me nervous but since my training and days in the military, that phobia had subsided. I guess that most people have phobias, when it comes to triage, but after the training and serving on the field of battle, I learned to just do the job and try to attend to the patient as best I could. The bandages were applied and I did the best I could to make them as loose as possible, but still applying slight pressure to stop the bleeding.

  Sally was fitted with the IV line, which was taped to her front leg and given a light sedative. I carried her from the bathroom to the couch in the front room. Sammy jumped up next to her and watched as I covered her in a blanket. Sally had lost plenty of blood, but not enough to threaten her life. She would just need a few days to recover and in my current position, I could afford to provide her all the care and attention she needed. Rest, sleep and tomorrow a little food would be all that she would need.

  I prepared to lay up for the evening and tend to Sally’s wounds. I pulled out a few movies from my DVD rack and moved the coffee table from in front of the television, afterwards, slid the portable floor recliner into position. Just as I was about to turn on the television, I heard a knock on the door. Was this day ever going to wind down? Maybe it was just a neighbor, should I answer it? I rarely answer the door or the phone. The knock came again and I walked towards the door and looked through the window.

  I opened the door and turned on the porch light. Standing there was a petite woman, wearing a sundress. She shifted and spoke softly, “Uh, hello. You left the lights on in your truck.” She turned and pointed to my 1970 Ford pick-up, parked in the driveway. “Oh, thank you and hello. I’m Baxter, uh, Baxter Allen.”

  “I’m Laylianna Hayes.” She looked past me and noticed Sally, lying on the couch. “Oh my, what happened to her?” She rushed into the house and towards the couch. How strange, I thought. I would never just walk into a stranger’s house, let alone being a woman and walking into a stranger’s house. Maybe it wasn’t so strange.

  “She got caught up in the barbed wire out back.” I ran out to the truck, opened the door and shut off the lights. Walking back to the house, I expected her to be standing at the front door, after she had realized she had just walked into a stranger’s house. She didn’t and as I walked in the front door she was still on the couch, petting Sally and looking over her wounds.

  “She will be fine,” I tried to reassure Laylianna, “I have her stitched up and the IV will have
her up and going tomorrow.”

  “Why is she asleep, is she really going to be alright?” Her voice was still soft and low spoken. Once she looked at Sammy and then back at me, she smiled and stood up. “What is her name?”

  “Sally and that gentleman over there is Sammy.” Sammy looked up at her and jumped down from the couch, licking Laylianna’s hand.

  “Hello Sammy.” She crouched down and rubbed his neck, “Does someone need to go outside?” Sammy ran to the back door and Laylianna followed, opening the door and letting Sammy out into the yard. She stopped and suddenly turned, “I am sorry, I should not be walking around in your house Baxter.”

  I was still a little confused at Laylianna’s ability to just jump right into a situation and take control. My shirt, hands and arms were still stained with Sally’s blood. Laylianna walked back into the front room and stood near Sally, looking down on the couch. “You know, if you need to clean up and shower, I can stay and watch Sally.” I shifted nervously and looked at Sally and then down at my shirt. “Uh yes, if that is not a problem for you?”

  Laylianna slid the floor recliner near the couch and sat down, placing her hand on Sally’s shoulder, “I would be happy to.” I smiled and let out a nervous laugh, walking into the hallway, something stopped me. Turning and looking back at the couch, a comfort and calm came over me knowing that Laylianna was watching Sally. Someone so kind as to volunteer their time and care for a total stranger, I wish there were more people in the world like her. The world would be a much better place.

  After showering and changing my clothes, I walked out into the front room to find Laylianna had fallen asleep. Now, this is a predicament, or was it? Maybe leaving everything as it was would be just that simple. This was nothing at all like my everyday routine and it was breaking this creature of habit. I turned down the lights, using the dimmer switch on the wall, picked up a blanket from my favorite chair and placed it lightly over Laylianna. She made no sudden movement, so I assumed she had a long day, maybe at work, or whatever it was she did throughout her daily routine. I tend to internalize and over think too many situations and I needed sleep myself.

  The next morning, I woke up and found Sammy, Sally and Laylianna curled up near the couch. Sammy looked up at me, as I walked into the room. He slowly got down from the couch, stretched and walked into the kitchen. At the back door, he stopped and sat, looking back at me, indicating he needed to go outside. Opening the back door and walking out into the chilly morning air, I realized I was still in my boxers. It was a normal routine for me, as I am not used to having a woman in the house.

  I turned to walk back in the house and saw a figure standing at the sliding glass door. Pausing to read her body language, I saw a smile on her face as she laughed. “Well, I guess we should both be a little embarrassed, or uncomfortable but I have to admit, I’m not. For some reason everything feels so right.” She moved back from the door and I walked into the kitchen. In the bathroom was my robe, which never really got much use. “Excuse me for a moment.” I replied. I went into the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror, still a little confused and feeling like I was in the Twilight Zone. Was this really happening, some sudden shift in the everyday routine?

  I put on my robe, went back into the kitchen and the smell of coffee already filled the air. Sammy was already in the house when I woke up. That means someone let him in during the night and that Laylianna woke up, let Sam in and chose not to leave. Hmm. “So, you let Sammy in last night?”

  “I did, but you were asleep and Sally was stirring on the couch, so I thought I would just go back to sleep.”

  The dogs are usually wary of strangers and towards new people coming into the house, more than likely to bark and growl at them, “Did Sammy growl at you, or bark?”

  “No, he was great. For some reason, I think he understands that I was trying to comfort Sally and was just tired as well.” Pulling out two cups and pouring coffee into them, she turned and handed me a cup. “So, are you going to be around later tonight?”

  “Yes, I will be. Sally is going to need some antibiotics and clean bandages.” Why was she asking this? I felt something unexpected coming and braced for what she might or might not say. “I will come by later and see how you and Sally are. I live on the other side of town, but I work until 5 PM.”

  “Sounds nice, I have to tend to some of the crops, but that won’t take long since it is almost harvest time. Sally should be up and about in no time at all.”

  Laylianna finished her coffee and placed the cup on the counter. She walked towards the front room and stopped at the front door, “So Baxter Allen, I will see you around 6 PM?”

  I was still taken by the whole situation and responded, maybe a little over-enthusiastic, “For sure, uh, yes, that will be great!” She opened the door, turned and smiled as I stood holding my coffee cup thinking, how much of an idiot I must look like, walking outside in my boxers! I smiled nervously and watched as she closed the door behind her.

  Rushing to the window, I peeled back the curtains to see what kind of car she drove. It was a Volkswagen Jetta, suits her in a way. She caught me looking from the window and laughed as she got into her car, started it and pulled away. I quickly went to work on Sally’s wounds, changing the bandages. She was stirring and looked up at me as I changed the last bandage, licked my hand and placed her head back down on the blanket and went back to sleep.

  Chapter Two

  The following day came and went, with no sign of Laylianna. She must have had something come up, or it was just one of those situations someone would just as soon forget. That would keep the familiarity to a minimum. Maybe she was just like me. I had become somewhat of a shut in, a recluse, but that suited me fine. I never really had a reason to get out, unless it was at the farmers market. I was left the house, the land and all the farm equipment from my mother. The land was enough to keep growing and selling produce and make out with enough to pay the bills for the year. It was a good life, as far as I was concerned.

  I think back to a conversation with my grandfather, when I was younger. He was a seasoned farmer, up at four in the morning, tuning the tractor, loading the feed for the animals and the rest of the day was out in the fields, tending to all the crops. He was keen on making sure the irrigation ditches were free of debris and that every channel carrying water to the crops was free-flowing. One day he sat me down in the field, as we both watched the water rush from the irrigation ditch and into the corn field.

  “Son I want to explain something to you. This is important to understand and you will learn more about this in your schooling. I want to make sure that you understand it and know what it means to be a farmer and the responsibilities that go with it. Agriculture was the key implement in the rise of human civilization, whereby farming of domesticated species created food surpluses that nurtured the development of civilization. The study of agriculture is known as agricultural science. Agriculture is also observed in certain species of ant and termite, but generally speaking refers to human activities.”

  I always remember the way he moved, deliberate and precise. The sound of his rough, deep voice as he explained everything he knew in detail. He picked up a piece of hay and put it in his mouth, adjusting his hat and continued, “The history of agriculture dates back thousands of years and its development has been driven and defined by greatly different climates, cultures and technologies. All farming generally relies on techniques to expand and maintain the lands suitable for raising crops. For plants, this usually requires some form of irrigation, like the methods I have been teaching you and use every year. Modern agronomy, plant breeding, pesticides and fertilizers and technological improvements have increased the yields from cultivation, but at the same time have caused widespread ecological damage and negative human health effects.”

  I always listened to everything he taught me, as I knew it would be helpful later on in my life. I wanted to be just like him and continue working the ranch after he was gone. He continue
d as he pulled a few larger weeds from the soil, “The major agricultural products can be broadly grouped into foods, fibers, fuels and raw materials. In the 21st century, plants have been used to grow bio-fuels, biopharmaceuticals and pharmaceuticals. Specific foods include cereals, vegetables, fruits and meat. Fibers include cotton, wool, hemp, silk and flax. Other useful materials are produced by plants, such as resins. A farmer can make a pretty decent living if he is diligent and puts his mind and focus into his work.”

  “Agricultural practices such as irrigation, crop rotation, fertilizers and pesticides were developed long ago, but have made great strides in the past century. The history of agriculture has played a major role in human history, as agricultural progress has been a crucial factor in worldwide socio-economic change. When farmers became capable of producing food beyond the needs of their own families, others in their society were freed to devote themselves to projects other than food acquisition.” He handed me a rake and began using the hoe to till at the irrigation channels, clearing the way to allow the water to continue to flow.

  “Tillage is the practice of plowing the soil to prepare for planting or for nutrient incorporation or for pest control. Tillage varies in intensity from conventional to no-till. It may improve productivity by warming the soil, incorporating fertilizer and controlling weeds, but also renders soil more prone to erosion, triggers the decomposition of organic matter releasing CO2 and reduces the abundance and diversity of soil organisms. Start tilling through the soil at the roots of the corn stalks and allow the plant to breathe.”

  “Pest control includes the management of weeds, insects and prevents diseases. Chemical, biological, mechanical and cultural practices are used. Cultural practices include crop rotation, culling, cover crops, intercropping, composting, avoidance and resistance. Integrated pest management attempts to use all of these methods to keep pest populations below the number which would cause economic loss and recommends pesticides as a last resort.” I moved the rake through the dirt, pulling at the weeds and placing them at the end of the rows of corn.