The Farmer's Wife

by Lori Handeland

“Come on,” he muttered, and turned away.

  They strolled down the gravel lane, which curved past the barn and headed up to the main road.

  Even though the weather wasn’t the best—damp, cool and gray—Brian always felt better outside. In the house he was bored, trapped, lonely. But walking his land brought him peace. There were so many things to see, so much to be done, so many animals both domestic and wild, that Brian was never truly alone.

  He took a deep breath. Sure, he smelled manure. But to him, that just meant he was home.

  Lost in his thoughts, he didn’t notice right away that Kim wasn’t at his side. By the time he did, she was already in trouble.

  “Hey!” he shouted. “Don’t touch that—”

  Raarh!

  Kim leaped back from the cat she’d planned to pet, holding her scratched hand to her chest as the orange-and-white striped tail disappeared into the tall grass surrounding the barn.

  “Tomcat,” Brian finished. He crossed the distance separating them in three steps. “Let me see.”

  Wide-eyed, she held out her hand, where a new, bloody mark crisscrossed the steadily fading chicken pecks. If this kept up, there wouldn’t be much left of her.

  “What did you think you were doing?”

  “Petting the cat. I like cats.”

  “Since when? I didn’t think you liked animals at all.”

  He couldn’t recall a single memory of her near a cow or a pig. Recent images of her with sheep and chickens only served to reinforce his opinion. But with five brothers, all older and bigger than she was, Kim had never been required, or allowed, to perform any farm chores.

  “That’s not true!” she cried. “I always wanted a pet. But Mom said we had enough animals in the house.”

  “I don’t remember any animals in your house.”

  “Aaron, Bobby, Colin, Dean and Evan. Our own little herd.”

  Brian’s lips twitched. “I suppose they caused their own kind of carnage.”

  “You got that right.”

  “You had Dalmatians.”

  “Outside, never in. And they weren’t very cuddly, just busy.”

  True. Farm dogs were not pets. They were working animals. And once again, it didn’t pay to get too attached to them. Run-ins with cars, tractors or cows’ hooves did little to improve a farm dog’s life expectancy.

  Brian recalled, too, that Kim’s mom had never been an animal lover. In fact, she’d always dealt so sternly with the dogs that they fled at the first sound of her step. He’d thought her manner an odd one for a farmwife, but then again, maybe not.

  “Daddy let me play with the cats sometimes,” Kim murmured. “I always had to wash my hands afterward, and never, ever hold them by my face. And—” her brow creased in thought “—never play with the . . .” Understanding dawned and a rueful twist came to her lips. “Tomcat. I forgot.”

  “Not the best rule to forget.”

  “I only played with the cats until I was five or six. Then one of my favorites was crushed by a cow.” She winced.

  “Unfortunately, that happens. The cats burrow into the hay to get warm in the winter, and the cows lie on them or step on them. They don’t mean to.”

  “I know. But after that . . .” She shrugged. “I didn’t want to get attached.”

  Brian could relate.

  “Just remember to avoid the big, nasty toms. They’re like kitties on acid. They hate everyone for no reason at all.”

  “Then why have them?”

  He blinked, stared and waited for her trademark giggle. None came. Kim had to be the most city city girl he’d ever known. Not that he’d known so very many.

  He tilted his head toward the barn. “Open the door, and I’ll show you.”

  Confusion flickered over her face, but she did as he asked, opening the door so they could step inside. The scent of hay and autumn waning, of warm bodies, cool nights, of nostalgia, brushed Brian’s chilled cheeks, making them tingle. He didn’t touch the fluorescent light switch so he could enjoy the forever twilight that inhabited his barn at any time of the day.

  At the far end of the structure, he paused next to an ancient barn board that leaned against the wall. Kim was about to speak, but Brian held up a splint to forestall any questions.

  “Shh,” he murmured. “Pull that board back.”

  Wariness filled her eyes. “I don’t think so.”

  “I’m not one of your brothers, Kim. I promise nothing slimy or disgusting will leap out.”

  Still she hesitated, and he couldn’t say that he blamed her. In their youth, he’d heard of, and laughed about, many of the rotten things the five of them had done to her. Once he’d fallen in love with her, Brian had insisted the torment stop, although he had a sneaking suspicion the Brothers Luchetti only made sure they pulled their tricks when he wasn’t around. And Kim would never have snitched. He might be an only child, but even he knew that snitching only assured further persecution.

  “Go ahead,” he urged. “Think of this as a present. All you have to do is pull the board away from the wall to unwrap.”

  At last she did, but slowly, tentatively, her body stretching so that she could stay back as far as she could, just in case a monster leaped out and shouted, Boo!

  Instead, kittens tumbled free, spilling across her tennis shoes, chewing on a toe, batting at the laces.

  Her breath caught; the giggle erupted. She dropped to her knees, and her battered hands fluttered over their soft fur. When she gazed up at him, her eyes were misty despite the laughter. “They’re beautiful.”

  “Makes even a tomcat worthwhile, hmm?”

  “I suppose.” She picked up an orange-and-white tiger that looked amazingly like its daddy but for size and temperament. “But won’t toms—” She broke off and cuddled the tiger protectively against her chest. “Um—”

  “Kill their young?”

  She lifted one shoulder, lowered it, then snatched a calico from the pile and cuddled it, too.

  “They will if they find them.”

  “How barbaric.”

  “Survival of the fittest again.”

  “If you say that one more time, I just might hurt you.”

  Already did, his mind whispered. But he kept his mouth shut. Needling her about the past had lost its appeal several days ago.

  “I always make sure the barn is closed up tight,” he continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “And I’ll let you in on another little secret about Ba.” Kim raised a brow. “She hates tomcats.”

  Kim snorted. “You can’t tell me that Ba, Ba Black Sheep knows one cat from the next.”

  “She doesn’t like anything slinking about. She caught one trying to squeeze through a gap in the door once.”

  “And?”

  “Kicked his butt.”

  “Literally?”

  “There’s no other way with Ba.”

  “Hmm. She might be a big, mean ball of wool, but I’m starting to like her.”

  “I thought that you might.”

  Kim placed the tiger kitten on the floor, where he promptly jumped on another’s back, then they rolled end over end until they slammed into a cow stanchion. The two broke apart, blinking in confusion. Before they could regain their feet, their brothers and sisters attacked them, and all was forgotten in the excitement of a new game.

  Grinning, Kim held the calico above her head. “I like him.”

  “That’s not a him.”

  She lowered the kitten and cuddled it against her chest once more. “You know the sex of each and every one of these?” She waved a hand at the eight balls of fluff now tumbling over her feet. One climbed the leg of her jeans, and she absently plucked each needle-sharp claw from the denim until it fell back to the ground.

  “Not every one. But calicos are female.”

  She frowned and took a peek at the flip side of the kitten. “You’re right. Calicos are always female?”

  “Ninety-eight percent of the time.” He shrugged. “The vet explained it t
o me once. Something about genetics, chromosomes and the colors of their coats.”

  “What I don’t know about a farm could fill a book.” She shrugged. “I’ll take her, then.”

  “Take?” Brian frowned. “I didn’t mean you could take one.”

  “Isn’t she old enough to be away from her mother?”

  “Well, sure, but—”

  “What did you mean, when you said there was a present behind the board?”

  Brian opened his mouth, then shut it again. Hmm. What had he meant? He’d wanted to show her there was something good on his farm. Up until now, she hadn’t been impressed.

  “That’s what I thought.” Kim rubbed her cheek against the kitten’s. The animal purred as loudly as a muffler-free Camaro. “I’ll name her . . . Precious.”

  “Oh, no. No, you’re not.”

  “What’s wrong with Precious?”

  “Besides being so cute I have to gag?”

  “She is, isn’t she?” Kim leaned the board back against the wall and immediately the other kittens scuttled behind it. Then she strode toward the front of the barn.

  “Where do you think you’re going?”

  “I’m taking Precious into the house.”

  Panic tightened his throat. She’d bring that adorable ball of fluff inside, she’d become attached—or worse, he would—then something terrible would happen. It always did.

  “No, no and no again. No cat in the house.”

  She stopped, turned and rolled her eyes. “You sound like my mother. Why not?”

  “You said it yourself. Doesn’t pay to get fond of cats.”

  “But if I keep her in and around the house, she isn’t going to get hurt—now, is she?” Kim resumed her stride.

  Brian scurried to keep up. “If you want a cat, at least pick a real cat.”

  She stopped and threw a wry glance over her shoulder. “This is a fake cat?”

  “You know what I mean. A cat, not a kitten.”

  Brian was pretty sure he could resist an aloof, snooty cat.

  “No, thanks. I like this one. But I’d better give her a bath.” She wrinkled her nose. “She smells like manure, even without the wind.” She continued toward the house, pausing on the front steps. “My parents like supper at five sharp, so I’ll help you get dressed around four.”

  He opened his mouth to refuse her help, but she’d already disappeared inside without a backward glance.

  Brian felt as if he’d been rolled over by a John Deere tractor—a common ailment when dealing with Kim. She plowed ahead, ignoring every bump in her path. She’d no doubt learned the technique a long time ago in self-defense.

  She’d never been big enough, or mean enough, to fight her brothers. Instead she’d ignored them and merrily gone on doing whatever she damn well pleased. Such behavior had always driven Dean crazy, which was undoubtedly why she had done it.

  Brian sat on the porch, attempted to put his head in his hands and ended up knocking his splint against the still sore, but steadily declining, goose egg on his head.

  Supper at the Luchettis’. When Dean mentioned it, Brian had eagerly accepted—anything to avoid another PB and J. But now he wished he’d made some excuse. He’d never been altogether comfortable at Kim’s house. All that noise, so much conflict. In his home, life had been quiet, the arguments few. But not even his unease had kept him from being drawn to the light, life and excitement that was Kim.

  He recalled the first time he’d seen her as anything other than his best friend’s baby sister. He’d been tossing a soft football with Dean in the Luchettis’ living room—something his mother would never have allowed—when Kim had run down the stairs in a tank top and shorts.

  Though she wasn’t even five feet tall, the shortness of her shorts had made her legs appear long. Her ebony hair had been tousled around her face, her skin flushed so that her green eyes shone.

  He must have been gaping, because Dean hit him in the face with the football.

  “Knock that off,” Dean ordered.

  “What?”

  “Staring at the princess. It’s my sister, for crying out loud.”

  “Right.” Brian cleared his throat and went back to tossing the ball.

  But he couldn’t forget her. He’d become obsessed, as teenaged boys will. Since he was at her house more than at his own—uncomfortable noise level or not, the fun was always at the Luchettis’—he was able to see quite a lot of Kim.

  He’d never had a girlfriend. Never wanted one, in truth. Between sports, school, friends and the farm Brian barely managed to keep up.

  To gather the courage to talk to her alone took him a month. She was funny, outgoing and cheerful. Everything he was not. She was also easy to talk to, and they talked a lot. Brian had never known that he needed someone to share things with until Kim had come into his life.

  Another month and he asked her out. Four dates before he kissed her. Then he was lost.

  Dean sneered that he was being led around by his pecker, but Brian had known better. He’d found true love.

  Kim brought him out of himself. He became a different guy when he was with her, someone he’d never known he could be, someone he liked.

  Life was brighter with Kim in it, fuller and faster, too. She taught him to live on the edge, find the adventure and run full speed toward it. He’d never misbehaved in his life—chalk it up to his raving only-child syndrome—but Kim had made misbehavior an art form.

  Curfew was something to be broken. The only purpose of rules was to bend them. What was forbidden was there to be explored.

  She would sneak out in the night, knock on his window, draw him out, too, then she would lead him on a chase through the cornfield. Once he caught her, or she let him, they would make out for hours.

  Haymows, meadows, the banks of a creek, the back of a car—anywhere was paradise if Kim lay in his arms. How many times had they watched the sun rise or the moon wane? How many mad dashes through the dawn to be back in their rooms before someone figured out they were gone?

  Brian’s parents considered her wild, but she was also sweet, pretty and charming. Her pranks didn’t hurt anyone—at least not then—and they knew that forbidding Brian to see her would only make Kim that much more appealing. They had believed such intensity of feeling would burn brightly, then die.

  But they’d been wrong.

  How a tiny kitten could make such a mess, Kim wasn’t quite sure. But Precious didn’t like water, and she made her dislike known. Top of her lungs, thrash and slash. Kim had to admire the kitten’s fury, even though she got scratched a few more times for her trouble.

  When she was done with the bath, and the extensive clean-up of the bathwater all over the basement floor, Brian still hadn’t come inside. Concerned that he was trying to work and might injure himself further, she went to the front window and looked out. He was sitting on the porch. She considered joining him, but Ba already had.

  Kim might feel sorry for the sheep that wasn’t, but that didn’t mean she was going to give the animal another chance to knock her flat. In a survival of the fittest battle with Ba, Kim had a feeling she would lose.

  She turned away from the sight, even though deep down something still pushed at her to go to him. Instead, with Precious wrapped in a towel and purring her way toward sleep, Kim went to her room and sat on the bed.

  The days were gone when she and Brian had shared everything. He’d been a wonder to her then, so quiet and strong, dependable and certain. Being with her had taught him the value of a smile, a joke, a laugh, while being with him had shown her that sometimes following the rules might not be such a bad idea.

  Sighing, she reclined on the bed, allowing the kitten to cuddle against her side. There was one rule she would forever wish she had not broken.

  Images came to her of the first night she and Brian had made love. They’d been a good little boy and girl for a long, long time—nearly a year, in fact.

  Most boys would have been trying to get into
her pants from day one. Not Brian. Kim was always the aggressor; she always pushed things between them one step further because no one had ever made her feel as Brian did.

  All her life she had craved physical affection. There was forever an empty space inside that ached to be filled. Brian seemed to sense that. Whatever she wanted, he gave. Whatever she needed, he found. He never let her go unless she let go first.

  His big, rough, gentle hands had made her mindless with a longing to explore the forbidden together. When he held her, pressed his lips to her temple, as if she were priceless beyond compare, and murmured that he loved her, she wanted to give him something no one else had ever had.

  The triteness of losing her virginity in the back seat of a car was overshadowed by the sweetness of the act itself. His hands shook when he touched her; his voice broke when he said that he loved her. His kiss was reverent; his face, so dear. Beneath the half-moon she’d finally found a way to make the ever present, nagging emptiness go away. With Brian deep inside her, she no longer felt alone.

  Kim couldn’t get enough of him, nor he of her. They made love every chance that they got, which wasn’t too often, considering the size and nosiness of her family, the tininess and concern of his.

  They’d possessed the teenaged gift of living in the moment, which brought about the false sense that disasters happened to someone else. Even when they tempted fate, or God, again and again and again, they were still surprised when the inevitable happened.

  Kim started, opened her eyes. The room was shadowed. She must have drifted off, gone dreaming about the past and not just thinking of it.

  Precious stood on her chest, prancing, purring, making a nest, then the kitten leaned over and, with a tongue the texture of sandpaper, licked the tears from Kim’s cheeks.

  The empty, aching loneliness was back. To be honest, it never left her anymore. Kim had tried too many times to re-create the sense of oneness she’d known then, but she’d discovered that only with Brian was she truly whole.

  Because only Brian understood what they had lost one long-ago night.

  The best part of themselves.

  CHAPTER NINE