by Nan Rossiter
“Sometimes I go all out and make scrambled eggs too,” he said with a grin. “Where’s Henry?”
“In the living room. I found a pad of paper when we got home, and he’s been drawing ever since.”
Linden went in to see Henry’s drawing while Callie finished heating up the spaghetti and tossing a salad. She warmed up some rolls and opened the wine. “Supper’s ready!” she called. “Do you want to eat out on the porch?” Henry appeared and walked right over to the door. “I guess so!” she said with a smile. They carried everything outside and set it on the table. “Henry, can you give everyone a napkin?” she asked, handing him three napkins, and Henry walked dutifully around the table while Linden poured the wine and Callie lit the candles.
Over dinner, they talked about simpler times, and Linden filled Callie in on all the triumphs and failures of their high school classmates, including the news that Jon Connor was getting married.
“No way!” Callie exclaimed. She loved hearing about everyone, and more than once she commented, “Gosh, I haven’t seen him in ages!”
To which Linden replied, “That’s what happens when you don’t come home for a visit.”
“This was really nice,” Callie said, finally, leaning back in her chair.
Linden nodded and refilled their glasses. “It is really nice.”
Callie took a sip and sighed. “Well, as nice as it is, I really should help Henry get ready for bed.” As if on cue, Henry slipped from his chair and pulled open the door and held it for her. Callie gave Linden a surprised look. “Thanks, buddy,” she said, standing to clear as many things as she could carry before ushering him down the hall for a quick bath. “Just leave everything,” she called over her shoulder.
Ten minutes later, Henry shuffled back to the kitchen in his pajamas and shyly eyed the three bowls of ice cream that were waiting on the counter. Callie hung up the bath towel and followed him. She looked around the kitchen and saw that all the dishes had been washed, and she shook her head. “You weren’t supposed to do that!”
Linden just grinned and handed her a bowl.
After Henry was tucked in, Callie came back to the kitchen. “I don’t think this house ever cools off,” she said. “Do you want to sit outside?”
“I wish I could, but I should get going and make sure everything’s okay back at the ranch.”
Callie nodded. “Well, I really enjoyed today, and I know Henry did too.”
Linden pulled her into a hug. “I did too,” he murmured, leaning back against the counter and holding her close.
37
It was early afternoon before Callie finally parked under the sprawling limbs of the old oaks in Linden’s yard. The summer air was oppressive, and Callie’s sun-streaked hair had, once again, taken on a life of its own. She had tried to tame it by pulling it into a ponytail, but it was stubbornly resisting restraint. “What did I do to deserve this?” she asked, looking in the rearview mirror.
“Hey,” Linden said with a smile, appearing next to the car.
“Hey!” she said, looking up in surprise.
“What’s the matter?”
“Nothing, just one of those days.” Linden opened the passenger door, pulled the seat forward, and unhooked Henry’s belt. He clambered out but wasn’t on the ground for more than two seconds before the dogs bowled him over happily. He took their enthusiastic greeting in stride, but his short stature made his head especially vulnerable and he had to put his arms over his face to deflect the assault of their happy tails.
“How’s Reba?” Callie asked, helping Henry up while Linden pulled the dogs back.
“She’s hangin’ in, although she’s been telling us about it all morning.” As if to prove his words true, a loud bellowing came from the barn. “Cindy said she’d be here this afternoon, and I hope it’s soon.” Linden’s usually easygoing countenance was shadowed with worry.
“Are you sure it’s okay to leave Henry? It sounds like you have your hands full.”
“I’m sure,” he replied. “Besides, maybe he’ll get to watch a calf being born.”
Callie looked skeptical.
“Don’t worry,” Linden reassured her. “We’ll be fine.”
She pressed her lips together, unconvinced. “Okay, well, he’s had lunch, so he should be set for a while, and I made cookies for you.” She leaned over the driver’s seat, reaching for the plate. As she did her shirt pulled out, and Linden noticed the smooth, brown skin of her lower back. When she straightened up and handed the plate to him, he had a funny look on his face. Self-consciously, she touched her hair. “What?” she asked in dismay.
“Nothing,” he answered, smiling. “We love cookies, don’t we, guys?” The dogs wagged their tails and tried to nonchalantly lick the bottom of the plate, hoping to absorb some flavor.
Callie smiled. “I don’t know how I’m ever going to make this up to you.”
“Oh, well, I can probably come up with something.”
Callie laughed. “Well, let me know when you do.”
“Don’t worry, I will,” he said with a mischievous grin.
Callie rolled her eyes and smiled. “I won’t be long,” she said, pulling the seat back. “I’m just going to see my dad and then maybe run a couple of quick errands.”
“Take your time.”
She gave Henry a hug. “Be good!” She turned back to Linden. “Could you do something about this heat before I get back?”
“I’ll try,” he said with a wry smile.
Callie waved as she pulled away, and Linden waved back and watched her go. Then he turned to Henry. “C’mon, pal, let’s go put these in the kitchen.” Henry trailed along behind Linden and trudged up the porch steps with the dogs beside him. Linden held the screen door open, and the small parade trooped inside. Linden offered Henry a cookie before putting the plate on the counter. “Want some milk?” Henry took a bite and nodded and, while Linden was busy pouring, he gave a piece of his cookie to Kat and Springer. “That cookie’s for you,” Linden said, eyeing him. Henry nodded and placed his hand gently on Springer’s head. Linden put two more cookies in a zip-and-seal bag, turned around, and realized he should have put the headset away, because Henry had already found it. “Hold on there, mister,” Linden began. “Your mom doesn’t ...” but he didn’t get to finish his sentence because a loud pickup truck was rumbling into the yard and the dogs had charged over to the door, tails wagging.
Cindy climbed out of her truck just as Linden pushed open the front door. The dogs bounded toward her and almost mowed her down. She laughed, looked up, and saw Linden coming across the yard with Henry in tow. She reached out to shake hands. “Hey, stranger!” she said with a smile as big as Texas. “Who’s your little partner?”
Linden shook her hand and nodded to Henry. “This is Henry.”
Cindy knelt down in front of Henry, but he backed shyly behind Linden’s leg. “Hey, Henry,” she said softly, offering her hand, but Henry had the headset and the bag with the two cookies in his hand and he’d put his other hand on Springer’s head. Cindy stood up with a puzzled smile. “What’s with the headset?”
Linden glanced down and shook his head. “Henry doesn’t like loud noises.”
Suddenly, a long mournful bellow filled the air, and Cindy looked in the direction of the barn. “That doesn’t sound like a very happy camper. Have you got her inside?” she asked, striding away in the direction of the barn. Linden nodded, but Cindy wasn’t looking at him so he said, “Yes,” scooped Henry up, and hurried after her.
They found Reba lying down in her stall, breathing heavily. When they walked in, though, she kicked out her legs and struggled to stand. Her eyes were wild with fear and pain, and Cindy whistled softly. “You’re ready, baby, aren’t you?” She climbed into the stall, and Reba swayed precariously and bellowed loudly. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” She stroked Reba’s swollen side and tried to see her hind end, but the stressed heifer backed uncooperatively into the corner, swinging her head he
avily and gazing blindly past Cindy.
Linden was still holding Henry, but he tried to see her hind end through an adjacent stall. “She has a big white sac hanging out,” he blurted in surprise.
Cindy nodded as she continued to move around the unhappy bovine. “Are there any hooves?”
Linden looked closer and shook his head. “It’s hard to tell, but I don’t think so.” Suddenly, Reba lurched forward and fell to her knees, and Cindy quickly got behind her to see for herself.
“How long has she been like this?” she asked in an alarmed voice.
“I don’t know. She’s been bellowing all morning,” Linden answered, startled by the sudden change in Cindy’s tone. “But I checked on her, and that sac wasn’t there.”
“How long ago?”
Flustered, Linden stammered, “How ... how long ago?”
“How long ago did you check her?”
“I don’t know ... maybe a half hour.”
Cindy nodded and started to roll up her sleeves. “Linden, you are going to have to put that boy down and help me. In my truck are gloves, a bucket, and clean towels. And I need you to fill the bucket with hot water. Now!”
Linden set Henry down on a bale of hay and lifted his chin to look him in the eye. “Stay there,” he commanded. Henry’s eyes grew wide, and he backed into the corner with his arms around his knees.
Linden sprinted to the truck and retrieved the items Cindy had asked for. Then he ran to the house and waited impatiently for the hot water to finally reach the tap. At last, with the bucket full of steaming water, he walked briskly across the yard. The air was heavy, and beads of perspiration trickled down the sides of his face. He heard a low, menacing rumble in the distance and looked across the meadow. Silent flashes of hot light illuminated a black, roiling mountain of clouds in the distance. Linden’s heart pounded. Not now!
He hurried into the barn with the hot water sloshing onto his jeans and sneakers. Reba was still lying down, breathing heavily, and Cindy looked up. “The calf must be turned around.” Her voice was tense. “I’ve only had this happen one other time.” Linden nodded and glanced over at Henry, who had slipped the headset over his ears and was looking up at the rafters. Cindy reached for the bucket and gloves. Suddenly, a deafening thunderclap split the heavens above the barn, and Reba rose like a tidal wave and knocked Cindy back into the wall, spilling the water. The lights in the barn flickered. Cindy scrambled to her feet, pulled on the gloves, and plunged them into what was left of the hot water. She wrung out one of the towels and commanded, “Get in here and try to hold her steady.” Linden climbed into the stall as Cindy stepped behind the weary heifer. With the warm, clean towel she wiped all around the sac and then proceeded to gently reach a gloved arm inside, looking for the calf’s hooves.
38
Henry didn’t like the sounds Reba was making, and he didn’t like her stomping her feet. He glanced toward her stall and then quickly looked away, Linden’s words echoing in his head. Stay there! He closed his eyes and began rocking back and forth. Stay there! Stay there! Stay there! Electricity snapped through the air, and a loud clap of thunder shook the barn to its foundation. Startled, Henry opened his eyes and, with his small hands, pressed the headset tighter against his head. He peeked at Reba and looked away. Stay there! Stay there! Stay there! He looked up into the rafters and, for the first time, noticed the geometric pattern they made. With his eyes, he began to trace each rafter and study each angle. The pattern soothed him, and he continued to follow it with his eyes, up, down, over, up, down, over, but then he noticed something out of place ... there was something that didn’t fit in the pattern. Henry stared into the shadows, trying to make out the object on the uppermost rafter. It looked like a piece of wood but then ... it turned ... and two eyes looked down and blinked at him. Henry could hear Linden’s voice. Who cooks for you? Suddenly, the owl stretched its broad wings, pushed off the rafter, and flew silently out through the open hay door, into the rain. Henry slipped off the hay bale and stood in the doorway, watching Atticus sweep across the meadow and land in the top of the tall Norway spruce. Henry blinked and softly whispered the words out loud, “Who cooks for you? Who cooks for you all?”
39
As Callie hurried across the hospital parking lot she felt sprinkles falling on her skin and smelled the warm, steamy scent of cool rain splashing on hot pavement. She looked up at the dark clouds encroaching on the summer blue sky and thought of the Thomas Cole painting that hung in the hospital waiting room.
As she approached the entrance, the doors opened and a gray-haired woman slowly pushed an older gentleman in a wheelchair through the doors. Callie waited politely, silently scolding herself for feeling impatient. The couple smiled warmly and thanked her as they passed, and Callie nodded before bolting down the hall to the elevator. She pushed the button and waited, watching the light click slowly down and wondering if she should have taken the stairs. At last, the door opened, but Callie had to step aside to let a nurse who was struggling to maneuver a cumbersome food cart make her way out. Once inside the elevator, Callie pushed the button for the third floor but, just as the door was about to close, a man and young boy ran up and she had to reach out to hold the door open. The man thanked her, pushed the button for the second floor, and rested his hands on the boy’s shoulders. Callie could feel the boy’s eyes studying her as the elevator climbed. He was probably wondering why she was there, just as she was wondering why they were there. Are they visiting the boy’s mom? She shook her head sadly. Why do people have to deal with illness and tragedy? Why can’t they just be well their whole lives and, when it’s their time to go, simply leave the world peacefully while sleeping? That’s what I would’ve done, she thought. “That’s how I would’ve handled old age,” she said out loud without realizing it, but then noticing that the boy gave the man a funny look. The door opened and the man smiled as he ushered the boy out, and a nurse bustled in and pushed the 3 again, even though it was already lit. Callie, who had been staring at the floor, looked up and realized it was Jess.
“Hey, Jess!” she said with a smile.
The nurse turned around. “Hey, baby!” She wrapped Callie in a hug. “Your daddy’s doin’ so good! Have you seen him?”
“I’m going now.”
Jess nodded and then looked puzzled. “Do you know they moved him out of ICU?”
“No, I just got here.”
“Well, he’s not on three anymore either. He’s back down on two.”
“Oh,” Callie said with a sigh. “I didn’t know. If I did, I would’ve brought Henry.”
“That’s all right, baby. You can bring that honey with you later. Just go see your dad and tell him you’ll bring his handsome grandson with you next time. That’ll make him happy.” The door opened, and Jess gave Callie another hug.
Callie pushed the button for the second floor and leaned against the wall. While she waited for the elevator to go down, she noticed an outdated poster for the hospital’s Fourth of July picnic hanging on the opposite wall. She had loved going to the hospital picnics when she was little. They’d played volleyball, gone swimming, pedaled paddleboats, eaten lots of food, and one year she’d even beaten her dad at horseshoes.
The elevator door opened and her memory of the picnics slipped away as quickly as it had come. She hurried down the hall, peering into rooms, and finally found her dad in the very last one. He was in a bed near the window and he was watching the news with the volume turned low so he wouldn’t disturb his neighbor.
“Hey, Dad!” she said softly, giving him a hug.
“Hey, kiddo!” he said with a big smile.
They continued to talk in hushed voices. “You look really good.”
“I feel good too.” He looked around. “I’m out of intensive care, you know.”
Callie nodded. “I know, but I didn’t know before I came. I’ll bring him next time.”
“Did you go hiking?”
“Yup.”
�
�And how’d it go?”
“It was fun. Linden had a child carrier, and although Henry hiked for a while, he finally decided to get in and take a ride, and then he fell asleep.” She paused thoughtfully. “Linden and I finally had a chance to talk too, but it wasn’t easy.” Ben nodded, and Callie smiled. “I think he might’ve forgiven me.”
“I knew he would.”
“And Henry is so good with him. I just can’t get over how they are together.” She looked out the window. “There’s a storm comin’ in.”
“I know. The weatherman’s been talking about it all day.”
“I used to love thunderstorms. Do you remember how we used to sit on the porch and watch them come over the hill?”
“I remember,” he said with a smile.
“Do you remember how the hummingbirds used to come to the feeder, even in the middle of a storm? They didn’t mind getting wet. I think they enjoyed it. They just spread out their wings as if they were taking a shower.”
Ben laughed. “Do you remember the one that hovered right next to your head?”
Callie nodded. “I think he liked my red ribbon. He sounded just like a big bumblebee.”
Ben paused thoughtfully. “Your mom didn’t like thunderstorms though.”
“I know. She always wanted us to come in. Now that I’m a mom, I can understand why.”
Ben searched his daughter’s eyes. “You’re a good mom too, Callie. Don’t ever think you’re not.”
“I don’t know, Dad. I’m not very patient, I lose my temper easily, and half the time I can’t figure out what’s bothering him. It sure would be easier if he would just start talking.”
Ben nodded thoughtfully. “Well, don’t forget to seek out Maddie Coleman. I know she’ll be able to give you some ideas.”
“I will.” Callie nodded. “But right now I just want to know what the doctor has to say about you.”
Ben held up his hands. “Rehab, I think.”
