by M. E. Carter
“It’s amazing how hungry a growing boy can get when he’s working out on a farm. Even if it is only a couple days a week.”
“Tell me about it. I’m just glad I’m not having to buy a jar of peanut butter every two days anymore.”
My eyes shoot up in surprise. “Seriously?”
“Oh yeah,” he says with a nod. “I couldn’t keep that boy out of the stuff. He would go through a jar every two days. It’s no wonder he was so heavy when he first started. Manual labor has done him and his heart a lot of good.”
“I like to think so.”
“Which is why it worries the Mrs. and me that he’s going to be leaving the program in the next couple months.”
I knew this conversation was going to happen today. Crossing my arms over my chest, I watch as Donnie is animatedly telling his mother all about the fun of putting two by fours in the back of a truck. It’s great that he enjoys it, but unfortunately, it’s not the kind of work we can hire him on full-time to do. And therein lies one of the biggest issues for parents with a special needs child.
At twenty-one years old, Donnie has been working out here for about four years. When he turns twenty-two, he’ll be rolled out of the public school’s special education program. That means the skills he has now are what he has to find a job and become as independent as possible.
“I’ve thought about that a lot lately. And I put out some feelers.”
“You have?” Mr. McMillan sounds genuinely surprised that I would go to that kind of effort. Which is weird because I’ve worked with Donnie for a long time. It doesn’t seem like going the extra mile to me.
“I have. I would love to keep him on, but we’ve talked about his functioning level, and I don’t think it would be safe for him to work here in an unsupervised capacity.”
I can practically feel him deflate next to me. He was hoping I would say something different. “But I have a friend at the no-kill animal shelter in town who has been trying to expand into a co-op of sorts as well. I told her about Donnie.”
His head whips around to scrutinize me and my words. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her he’s part of this program and he’s getting ready to roll out of it, but he’s a hard worker, he’s made really good strides with following through on basic tasks, he’s strong, which they need, and if there is someone he could work side-by-side with to get things done, he could be a good fit.”
He pauses briefly before taking a deep breath like it’s too good to be true and he needs to be prepared that he’s having false hope. “What’d she say?”
“She said she wants a couple more months to get things arranged, and then she’d like to see if Donnie is interested in part-time job over there.”
The noise that comes out of Mr. McMillan sounds like he’s strangling a sob while trying not to yell “Hallelujah.” “Oh, Ace, that would be wonderful. He has such a sense of purpose working here, and we don’t want to take that away from him.”
“I know,” I reassure him. “I get it. My brother was the exact same way. When these kids… hell, when anyone has a purpose and a place to go to everyday, you’re just happier.”
“I agree. Have you mentioned it to Donnie yet?”
“No, sir. I wanted to talk to y’all first. Not knowing if that was an option or if there would be transportation issues, I didn’t want to spring anything on him until y’all were involved.”
“Absolutely. If you have the information, you can forward it to me, and I’ll get a hold of the woman in charge there to take that off your plate.”
“That would be great. I’ll shoot her an email and cc you on it to introduce you guys, so we can see what happens.”
“That sounds great. I appreciate it, Ace.” He turns and shakes my hand again, clasping my one hand between his two. “Thank you so, so much.”
The look of relief on his face is so strong, I can’t help but smile. As he turns and walks away, going toward his family, the extra stiffness in his posture is gone. It feels good to know one five-minute phone call could have that much impact.
I don’t watch him for long. Mostly because I hear a car driving up and that means another parent is coming. Only this time I’m the one stopping in my tracks. The car is a black Mazda.
I know who that belongs to.
It’s Greer Declan. Also known as Oli’s mom and the woman I haven’t been able to get off my mind since she left here last time.
Stepping out of her vehicle, I notice she brought someone with her. It’s a teenaged girl who has similar features to Oli but carries herself differently. This girl seems to be all teenager—right down to the phone in her hand and single ear bud dangling out of her ear.
“Ace.” Greer approaches me with an outstretched hand, the girl following behind her.
“Ms. Declan,” I respond.
She scoffs. “Please, please call me Greer.”
I nod and take her hand in mine. “Greer. I can do that. I see you brought a friend with you this time.”
“Ace, this is my daughter, Julie, Oli’s sister. Julie, this is Mr. Ace, he’s the guy who runs the program and manages the farm.”
Julie gives me a shy wave and pushes her black rim glasses up her nose. “Nice to meet you.”
“You as well,” I respond with a nod. “If you guys are thirsty at all, Brittany put some drinks out on the picnic table. It can get awfully hot out here. She’ll bring out dinner from the main house later.”
Greer gives me a strange expression, but I don’t have time to decipher what it means before we hear Oli yell, “Mom! Mom! You’re here!”
I chuckle. As independent as these kids want to be, it never fails. They get overly excited for their mothers to show up, so they can show off exactly how independent they really are.
“Hi, Oli. I take it you’re having a good day?” Greer hugs him tightly, then shoves her hands into the back pockets of her jeans. This, of course, drives my attention to where her hands are. And down the back of her legs. All the way down to the cowboy boots she’s wearing. They’re scuffed enough that she’s had them for a while, but not like it’s from regular use. I’m only distracted for a moment, though. Oli’s excitement brings me right back to the conversation at hand.
“Yeah. I’m learning how to milk the cows.”
She takes a step back. “You are?”
“Uh huh.” His eyes are as wide as his smile while he talks about his new job. “The Bessies are so sweet and they lick my finger with their big long tongue and it feels really weird. But we put them in the big stall and put the machine on them. It’s like, I don’t know what it’s called but it’s like their boob—”
I burst out laughing. “It’s their udders, Oli.”
“Yeah, that thing. Their udders. And we make the milk come out and then we put them in the pasture, and they can eat and they’re so happy, Mom. I really like the cows.”
Greer looks over at me, stunned. “How come I haven’t heard about these cows before? When did this happen?”
“Just this week,” I say. “You remember how interested he was in the cows? We figured, why not? We needed the help over there so we decided to try it out.”
“Come on, Mom! Let’s go see the cows!”
Oli turns and runs off, while Greer turns the opposite direction. “Hey Julie, you wanna come with us? Oli wants to show us the cows.”
Julie glowers at us like only an incredulous teenager can pull off. “No thanks, Mom. I’m good.” She walks to the picnic table and sits down, never taking her eyes off her phone.
“I take it she prefers the wonders of Snapchat to the farm?”
“Maybe.” Greer smiles at me, and I swear it short circuits my brain. “But it’s more likely she’s reading a book.”
“Big reader, is she?”
“She’s read the Percy Jackson series at least four times. She’s read Harry Potter so many times in paperback, the cover fell off. She is definitely the reader in the family. Makes my book nerd heart happy
.”
We begin walking slowly toward the barn. Something about being with Greer makes me feel like I’m not in a hurry. We don’t need to get there any time soon. “You’re a big reader too?”
“I’m actually a literary editor. So yes, reader by hobby. Editor by trade.”
“Nice. I love that you made your hobby into your job. I didn’t realize there were any publishing houses in the area. And that means you get to work from home, right?”
“There aren’t, and yes, I work from home.”
“Oh, that’s nice.
“Yep. It works perfectly around Oli’s schedule.”
“Speaking of Oli’s schedule,” I switch topics on her. “He’s doing really good around here.”
Her face lights up and I know instinctively she needed to hear that. “Really? I was afraid after that first meltdown, he wouldn’t be allowed to come back.”
I shrug. “Meltdowns aren’t that uncommon around here. Especially when a kiddo first starts. But we changed his job and that seemed to help a lot since he’s interested in what he’s doing. He helps with the clean-up and the guys are really good with him. They’re actually teaching him how to use the equipment so he can do the milking himself.”
“Really? But what if he hurts a cow?”
I chuckle. “Our Bessies are stronger than Oli will ever be. And the milking machines are calibrated so he can’t really do much damage attaching it to the udders wrong.”
She puts her hand on my forearm, and I feel a zing all the way to my chest. It’s like her touch is electric.
“Thank you, Ace. You don’t know how much I appreciate that. As a mom of a special needs child, having someone take the time to help him… well, it really means a lot to us, and it’s important to his future.”
I return her smile. Not because of what she said, but because of how it makes me feel. In a weird way, it makes me feel manly, and worthy, and all those feelings that go along with your ego being puffed up. Which is odd, since I’ve been doing this for so many years. I should be used to the compliments. But it’s not the words. It’s the woman. I can’t explain it, and I don’t even want to try. I’d rather just enjoy the feeling. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt this way around a woman. Hell, maybe it’s the first time ever.
“He’s a good kid,” I finally say quietly and continue with our steps.
“Hey Ace!” I hear over my shoulder and turn to see a very pregnant Brittany walking toward us. “Everything’s ready to go. You want me to set out all the food now, or do you want me to wait?”
“Um…” I think for a second, trying to remember how many parents are already here. “I think we could wait about an hour. Just to make sure everyone is here.”
“Yeah sure. Whatever you want, hon. I know this is your favorite day of the year.” She pats my arm and I cover her hand with mine. She refuses to admit it, but I know walking all the way out here winds her these days. “I made sure to make your favorite pimento cheese sandwiches.” She winks my direction and turns to waddle back to the house.
“Go sit down and put your feet up,” I call after her. “Your ankles are swollen, which means you’re pushing it too hard. You know the doctor warned you about that.”
“Don’t you worry about me, Grayson Whitman,” she shoots right back. “I’ll sit down when this kid is born, and then what will you do? Starve. That’s what you’ll do.”
I chuckle and turn back to see Greer sporting a strange expression I can’t quite interpret. I open my mouth to ask her what’s wrong, but Oli comes barreling through the parlor doors.
“Mom!” He accidentally yells in her face and practically runs her over. The look on his face is priceless when he realizes how close she actually is. “Mom, come on,” he says in a much quieter voice. “Let me show you.”
Walking inside the milking parlor, it’s nothing special. Just a barn. But it’s set up to make it the most efficient for milking. There’s a couple dozen stalls, each decked out with the latest and greatest equipment to keep things running smoothly. Each stall is occupied by a cow in different stages of the process.
Taking it all in, Greer seems overwhelmed by what she’s seeing, so of course I launch into my normal explanations. “It takes about seven minutes to milk a cow. Once we’re done, we unhook them and send them back to the field to go on about their day, just like Phillip is doing over there.” I point his direction as he smacks one of the Bessies on the hind quarters, sending her on her way. “She’ll head over with the rest to eat, graze, and lounge in the sun.”
She turns and squints at me. “They lounge in the sun?”
“Oh yeah. Our Bessies seem to be a lazy bunch.”
“Why do you call them Bessies?” she asks, as I pat one on the hind quarters.
“I don’t really know. It’s something that started years ago, and it kind of stuck. Maybe it makes us feel more bonded to the animals, a term of endearment.”
“Hey Mom, look.” Oli leads us over to where one of the cows is getting hooked up. “Look what I can do.”
Freddy, one of my long-time farmhands, patiently works with him, helping Oli get everything set up and the machine started. It’s not necessarily a complicated system, but there are quite a few steps involved. Low and behold, Oli’s got it. I can tell Greer is impressed.
“That’s fantastic, Oli. I’m proud of you.”
Oli puffs up, same as I did a few minutes ago. “Yeah, Mom. I’m really good at this. I’m gonna get a job here someday.”
“Well, keep working hard and we’ll see,” she says non-committedly.
“Oli, you wanna keep helping for a while? Or you wanna come show your mom around some more?” I ask him.
“I wanna keep helping with the cows.”
“Okay, do you mind if I show your mom around the rest of the farm?”
“No.” He doesn’t pay attention when he answers, too engrossed in what he’s doing.
We meander our way out the door and continue around the farm. Before I lose my nerve, I turn to her. I don’t know if she’ll feel like I’m crossing a line, but I can’t help myself.
“Hey listen. I know you’re new in town, and I know how rough that can be. If you’re interested, I’d love to show you around.”
She pauses and glares at me. “Are you asking this as a friendly gesture, or are you asking me on a date?”
I can’t help but laugh at her candor. “It could be a friendly gesture, but honestly, I was hoping for the date part.”
Her jaw drops, and I can see fierce anger in her eyes. “Are you kidding me?”
Taking a step back, I wonder if I completely misinterpreted the chemistry between us. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand. It’s not against any school policy since I don’t actually work for the district.”
“Your pregnant wife just came out here and offered us dinner, and you’re asking me on a date? How disrespectful is that?”
I bark a laugh. “Um… Brittany is not my wife.”
Greer takes a step back. “She’s not?”
“No, she’s Pedro’s wife,” I say, still chuckling. “She runs the main house and feeds all the farmhands. She’s my employee. But she is also very much Pedro’s wife.”
“Oh.” A blush creeps up her cheeks. “I’m sorry. I guess I assumed since she came out of the house, and you knew about what her doctor said…”
“I know, I get it. It’s a different dynamic when you work on a farm. We’re very much like a family. But as close as we are, we are not that close.”
Greer presses her lips together, and I can’t tell if she’s trying not to laugh or buying herself time. “Can we try that again?”
“You want me to ask you out again?”
“Yes. If we could have a do-over, please.”
I decide to humor her. “Greer, now that you know I’m not married”—she quirks an eyebrow at me playfully—“I’d love to take you out and introduce you to our town. Would you grace me with your presence on a date?”
&nbs
p; She snickers. “Yes, actually, I think I would enjoy that.”
“Ace! Hey man, we need some help in here.” One of my guys calls me back to the parlor. Lord knows what could possibly be urgent enough that they need my help. I’m almost afraid to know.
“If you’ll excuse me, duty calls.”
“No problem. I’m going to walk around if that’s okay.”
“No problem at all. Just don’t go in any pens without a staff member with you. No matter how inviting the animals might look.”
She laughs. “Don’t worry. I love animals as much as the next guy, but not nearly as much as my son.”
I turn to walk away, a huge grin on my face.
Scanning the neighborhood while we wait on the front stoop, I’m impressed by what a cute area Joie and Jack live in. The entire street is older, one-story homes. Craftsman style, so they’re all really cute, but very much cookie-cutter.
I like the neighborhood. There are kids riding bikes and parents sitting out on lawn chairs. Just from the little I know about Joie, I can see her living here. My brother, on the other hand, that’s a different story. He’s never been the quaint, cookie-cutter type.
Then again, he spent a handful of years in his tiny shoe-box apartment, probably not even picking up after himself. This is a huge upgrade.
A small pang of guilt runs through me as I think about how my brother has moved on. How we all have moved on. I still miss my sister-in-law, Sheila. She was wonderful. She died shortly after my ex-husband went to prison. I don’t know if I ever properly grieved her passing. Or maybe I did, and I was grieving everything all at once. Or maybe I had already grieved so much when her third cancer diagnosis happened, it was a different feeling. I don’t know the answer. The only thing I do know is I still miss her sometimes. She was one of my bridesmaids. She was the first one at the hospital after both my kids were born. She took over and planned both my parents’ funerals. She was family.
That’s not to say Joie hasn’t been good for Jack. She really has. From the times we’ve all interacted, they’re fun together, very low-key and loving. It’s like she got him out of his work-induced bubble and brought him back to life. Plus, they laugh almost constantly. It’s one of the reasons I’m excited to be here having dinner with them. I hear they have their hands full right now and could use an extra set of eyes.
