by David Horne
“On what grounds?” Sandra exclaimed, putting her hands on her hips in such a motherly way that Brett nearly caved.
“On the grounds that I know exactly how you got these,” Brett said, a touch forcefully. “You got Dad to break into my computer. And, since you stole this, that makes it inadmissible.”
Brett was proud of himself for getting through the whole of the word ‘inadmissible’ without faltering or stammering.
“Nice try,” Jerry said. “You can’t prove they were stolen. I’m not under oath. Objection overruled.”
Brett ground his teeth. His Dad could play hardball when he wanted to. Brett would almost hate to see him in real court.
“Your Honor, permission to present a settlement offer?” Sandra asked quietly and, knowing what the answer would be, chose not to wait for it, but instead to sidle up next to her son. “Listen, Brett. I can see something’s bothering you. I know your accident was a long while ago, but trust me, you’re still recovering, baby, and I can’t bear the thought of you dealing with more on your own.”
Brett gazed into his mother’s hazel eyes. “Fine, mom. I’ll tell you. But I get to miss shopping next week. That’s a fair deal. Take it or leave it.
“It’s fine, your Dad’ll do it,” Sandra hissed dismissively.
“Hey!” Jerry exclaimed, banging his gavel importantly.
“Put that away,” Sandra said calmly.
“Overruled,” Jerry said swiftly. “This is my courtroom, and that means I—”
”Put it away!”
“Yes, dear.”
Sandra turned back to her son. “So. Brett. Tell me.”
Brett huffed and wrung his hands. “It’s nothing big, honestly. I j-j-just—”
Sandra began to rub her son’s back in smooth circles. “It’s okay, it’s okay, take your time. No rush.”
Brett could already feel his cheeks burning. He looked up. His Dad was looking away. It wasn’t fair to expect so much from his parents, they were still affected by his accident almost as much as he was.
“I just got a job offer,” Brett croaked finally.
Sandra’s face lit up. “Bumfluff, that’s great!”
“Well, not really an offer!” Brett said quickly. “More of an opportunity.”
“What are you going to be doing?” Jerry asked.
”If I get it,” Brett said clearly. “I’d be working on the big farm over the way. Looking after the animals there.”
Jerry nodded. “Makes sense. No offense to Mrs. Taylor, but she’s getting up there a bit. I reckon she would need a bit of help taking care of things.”
But Brett shook his head. “No Dad. Mrs. Taylor passed away.”
Sandra and Jerry’s jaws both dropped. “What?” they asked in unison.
“She died, guys,” Brett clarified. “Old Man James was telling me. The big farm over the way passed to one of her children, I think. Or a nephew, maybe. But anyway, he’s from the big city, and he doesn’t really know animals, so he’s looking for some help.”
“That’s awesome!” Jerry grinned, nudging Brett encouragingly. “That’s my boy! Everyone knows you’re the animal person around these parts! I’d say you’re a shoo-in.”
But Sandra shook her head. “There’s more. What’s bothering you about this job? You love taking care of animals.”
Brett nodded. “I do. That’s just it. I do it on a temporary basis, and this is job is for a live-in farmhand. And it’s just…I feel like my life has changed so much from what it was. If I take this job…does that mean, I’m giving up?”
“Giving up on what?” Jerry asked, without thinking.
“You know what,” Sandra told him.
“Ah,” Jerry clocked on. “Brett, listen to me. You can’t predict life like that. A wise man once said life is what happens when you’re busy making other plans. You might have thought it’s your destiny to play ball, and maybe it is. But maybe it isn’t. Your destiny is what you make it.”
“Your Dad’s right,” Sandra said seriously. “If you don’t want to give up soccer, you don’t have to. You never have to give up something that you don’t want to. But you can’t let it stop you from exploring your avenues. You won’t always have opportunities to try new things, and one thing I’ve learned from life is that you have to take them when they come or watch them pass you by.”
“So, I should take the job?” Brett asked.
“We’re not saying you should take the job,” Sandra shook her head. “What we’re saying is don’t let fear make your decision for you. Do what your heart is telling you.”
“What if I don’t know what that is?”
Sandra smiled and placed her hand against Brett’s chest. “We always know what our heart is telling us.”
Brett nodded. “Dad can you…can you come with me?”
“Yeah, of course,” Jerry nodded. “We can hop on our bikes and be up there in what, ten minutes? Fifteen?”
Brett smiled. The relief was visible on his face. “Thanks, Dad.”
“No problem, son,” Jerry smiled. “But first, you know what my heart’s telling me? J-e-e-e-e-e-r-r-r-y-y-y,” he said spookily, waggling his fingers theatrically. “Must. Eat. Dorito-o-o-o-o-s.”
He suddenly shot Brett a look. “By the way, you did get the-?”
“Yes!” Brett and Sandra exclaimed in unison. “We got the red ones!”
Jerry grinned. “I can always count on you guys to support me on this new seafood diet!”
Brett frowned. “What do you mean, ‘seafood diet’? We had prawns like two days ago.”
“Not seafood, see-food,” Jerry clarified. “I seafood, and then I eat it.”
Brett watched Jerry saunter up the fridge with the promise of snacks putting a spring in his step. He looked at his mother, torn between shame and amusement. “You married that man,” he grinned.
Sandra shook her head. “Don’t remind me.”
Chapter Seven
The nerves were beginning to set in. Brett and Jerry had arrived at the big farm over the way, and they’d been standing on the top step outside the farmhouse for what seemed like forever. Brett reached out and rang the doorbell again. Nothing happened. No one came to the door. He glanced down. Brett was still tightly clutching the advertisement from the shop window in his right hand. Suddenly, Brett wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.
Looking after animals weren’t the part that worried me. Not by a long shot.
“Maybe no-one’s in,” Jerry murmured, more to himself than anyone else.
“I think that’s pretty obvious, Dad,” Brett mumbled.
“Did you say something, son?” Jerry asked.
Brett opened his mouth to reply but was cut off by the sound of an engine behind him. He turned around to see a sleek, black car pulling into the driveway, crunching the gravel beneath its tires. Brett’s pulse quickened.
Meeting new people was what made him nervous. Ever since the accident, Brett had lost his people skills. Not that he’d had that many before it. But since it, talking to new people had been almost impossible.
Brett gulped and stood stock still. His mouth was dry, his palms were sweaty. His heart was pounding. The door opened, and two men got out of the car. Brett recognized the first man on the right—the sandy-haired, sharply-dressed Joss Kenla, a paralegal who worked at Brett’s Dad’s firm. Joss gave Brett a curt nod as they locked eyes, and then addressed his Father.
“Kenla!” Jerry said, the surprise in his voice evident. “What are you doing here?”
Joss Kenla didn’t seem at all taken aback by Jerry’s belligerence. “Bringing in a client, boss.”
Jerry looked surprised again. “Oh. He’s signing up with the firm?”
Joss grinned and winked. “We’re taking care of the paper-work later today. What are you doing here?”
“This is my son,” Jerry said. “Brett, say hello.”
Brett froze and said nothing. His eyes moved from Joss to the second man, who’d just gotten out of
the car and shut the door. This man was older in age, somewhere between Brett’s age and Jerry’s. He had a thick mop of dark hair, light stubble on his chin and dressed like he didn’t care what anyone thought.
A fluorescent Hawaiian t-shirt, shorts, and flip-flops. He was absolutely gorgeous. Brett had always thought that love at first sight, was mushy rubbish, but attraction at first sight definitely was not. Brett was suddenly aware that he had no idea what to do with his hands. He flapped them about for half a second aimlessly before he stuck his thumbs into the belt loops on his jeans. Everyone had their eyes on Brett. He hated it. This was exactly what he didn’t want, to be the center of attention. He had to do something, say something, say anything. But the man got there first.
“Hello,” he said, sounding slightly breathless.
Brett’s Dad cut in. “Hey there,” he said kindly. “I’m Brett’s Father. You must be…?”
“Lewis Taylor,” Lewis said, a little too quickly for his own liking. “I own this place now.”
“I gathered,” Jerry Evans nodded. “Well my son’s expressed interest in working in your employment, so if you’d like, I can have something drawn up—”
Brett placed his hand on Jerry’s shoulder. The look on Brett’s face was plain, it’s okay Dad, I can do this. I need to do this.
Thankfully, Jerry got the message. “Right then. We’ll leave you both to it?”
“We?” Joss asked.
“Yes, we,” Jerry said firmly. “Let’s go.”
Lewis nodded. “If you need a ride home, Gligor will be more than happy to oblige.”
“D’you know, I think we’ll take that offer,” Jerry grinned and winked at Brett. “Most generous of you. I can fold my bike, no worries.”
Lewis stood and watched as Joss and Jerry got into the back of the car. The engine rumbled to life, and the car slipped out of the driveway and down the lane. Brett kept his eyes on Lewis Taylor as the man turned his back to watch the car disappear. He quickly looked away as Lewis turned back. He didn’t want to seem like he was staring.
Lewis cleared his throat. “So, young man. You’re interested in working for me?”
Brett knew that if he opened his mouth, coherent words would not come out, so he opted to say nothing. He reached into his pocket and removed something that had been crumpled up, straightened out and then re-folded multiple times to make it look neater. It hadn’t worked - all folding it had done was create thick, white damage lines in a grid-form across the leaflet.
Lewis suddenly realized that it was his leaflet. With his advertisement for “the big farm over the way,” on it. Brett held up the leaflet. Lewis was slightly taken aback at Brett’s silence, but he remembered what Old Man James had said about Brett’s injury. He decided on the spot not to press the matter.
Lewis cleared his throat. He stepped up and offered the young man a handshake. “Good to meet you, then. It might sound a bit cliched, but I’ve been expecting you.”
Brett Evans nodded as if he knew. Lewis figured that Old Man James must have clued him in too.
“So, I hear that you’re pretty good with animals,” Lewis prompted. “And this position is for a live-in farmhand if you didn’t know that. I have more than enough room unless that’s going to be a problem…?”
Brett took in a breath - the decision he was about to make would shape his future. Taking a full-time job caring for animals felt so much like he was turning his back on soccer, and nothing Brett told himself could shake that feeling. But there was a stronger feeling welling up inside him now.
One that had begun as soon as he’d laid eyes on Lewis Taylor. Brett adored everything he could see about Lewis. From the light stubble on his chain to the way he cocked his eyebrow when asking a question. That was a sensation he’d never experienced before. A sensation that made him nervous and want to stammer more than ever before.
Brett didn’t know for sure what his heart was telling him, but he knew that there was something inside that simply knew it had to stay as close to Lewis Taylor as possible. In that instant, he knew that his decision was made for him.
He locked eyes with Lewis. And he nodded.
“Good,” Lewis nodded. “Come, I’ll give you a tour. I’ll show you your new best friends.”
Chapter Eight
It sounded ridiculous, but Lewis had no idea just how big the “big farm over the way” actually was, even during the weeks that he had been living there. The first time he’d realized how big it actually was when he took Brett Evans for a tour.
First, Lewis quickly changed into jeans and a pair of wellington boots, and then they took a quick walk through the ground floor of the house, through the kitchen and the lounge, and then out into the back. Around the back of the house, between the garden and the meadow, was an old shed that Lewis hadn’t noticed before. It took a little bit of upper body strength to get the door open, as it was covered in moss and weeds, and the lock had almost rusted shut.
Lewis broke the lock and nudged the shed door open with his foot. Cobwebs hung from the ceiling, the stench of mold hung in the air, and a pile of gardening tools; shovels, spades, forks were piled up in the corner. Something big was sitting in the center of the shed, covered with a big, grey tarpaulin. Curiosity got the better of Lewis. He grasped the bottom of the tarp and gave it a sharp tug. The tarpaulin slid away, flicking a huge cloud of dust into the air. When he’d finished sneezing, Lewis took a look at what had been under the tarp. It was a golf cart.
Lewis’ eyebrows went up. “Huh. I didn’t know I owned a golf cart!”
Top ten things I never thought I’d say, Lewis thought to himself. He turned around. Brett Evans was still lingering a few feet from the shed door nervously. Lewis couldn’t resist letting his gaze linger. Brett was standing in the light of the afternoon sun. Golden rays lit up the top half of his body, and he stood casually with his hands tucked into his pockets.
Lewis suddenly became very aware that he was staring. “Do you drive?” he asked, gesturing to the golf cart. Brett shook his head no.
Lewis shrugged. “How hard could it be, right?”
Not hard at all, as it turned out. Lewis had had a few driving lessons before. Nothing extensive, but he got a general idea. He turned the key in the ignition, and the golf cart rumbled to life, purring gently. Lewis leaned on the gas pedal, and the golf cart jumped forward, surprisingly quick for such a small vehicle. He turned the wheel, and the cart veered right, causing Brett to jump out of the way quickly before he was steamrollered.
Lewis laughed, enjoying himself a surprising amount. “Get in, then.”
Brett complied and folded his hands in his lap, still as silent as the dead.
As they cruised through the meadow, Lewis pointed out different parts of the farm, at least the ones he recognized or remembered. They looped around cows grazing in the fields, chicken coops, and duck ponds, and Lewis started to realize that his farm was far bigger than he had realized.
“I think those are stables down that way,” Lewis narrated, pointing to a small conglomeration of huts at the bottom of a small hill by a pond. “Yeah, the stables.”
The golf cart pulled to a stop, and both Brett and Lewis disembarked. Lewis pushed open the door to the stables. It was roomier inside than it appeared to be. Four different alcoves stood at the end of the stables, containing four different horses. Three of the stallions were pure white, the one on the far right, however, was as black as night.
Lewis glanced at Brett’s face and noticed that his eyes were fixed on the black horse in the end alcove. It was lying down, not moving much.
“That’s Midnight,” Lewis said, a wry smile on his face. “I need help with her most of all. She won’t eat, she barely moves. If I get too close, she gets so riled up. She’s even tried to kick me a few times. She was my aunt’s favorite, it’s like…like her death has affected her too.”
Brett didn’t utter a word. He reached for the small table by the door, picked up one of the red apples arra
nged in a pile there, and then approached the black stallion carefully.
“Brett,” Lewis said warningly. “Maybe you might want to stay back a bit.”
Brett ignored Lewis’ warning and continued approaching. Midnight lifted her head lazily and surveyed Brett uncertainly. Lewis tensed up in alarm - when he’d last tried this a few days ago, Midnight had all but attacked him, and getting kicked by a horse was no joke.
But rather than getting riled up, Midnight relaxed as Brett reached out and stroked her head. He raised his other hand, and she began eating the apple from his palm.
Lewis’ jaw dropped. “How did you…do that?”
Brett smiled. “Magic,” he said simply.
“So, you do talk,” Lewis smiled.
Brett shrugged and did not elaborate.
Lewis approached the two of them. “Can I stroke her?” he asked.
Brett nodded. “Go for it.”
Lewis reached out and let Midnight’s smooth, black coat run through his fingers. He felt her move with every breath, felt the power of the animal in his fingers. “She’s never been so calm,” he marveled. “You’ve got a gift.”
Brett shrugged. “I suppose. It doesn’t always feel like it.”
“You mean your accident,” Lewis blurted, without thinking.
Brett froze and said nothing.
“Old Man James told me,” Lewis admitted. “A sports injury?”
Brett nodded. “It’s…it’s minor brain damage. But I’d never have come to work with animals if…if…” he trailed off.
“If you hadn’t hurt yourself,” Lewis finished. “I get that. Well, Brett, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that we should never look back and wonder ‘what if.’ We can only embrace the choices that have put us on our current path. Make the most of what you can. Have you ever heard the phrase “when life gives you lemons—”
“Make lemonade,” Brett finished. “Yeah, I have.”
Lewis smiled. “It looks to me like animals are your lemonade.”
“Does that mean you’ll consider hiring me?” Brett asked hopefully.
“Consider hiring you?” Lewis scoffed. “You’re hired already.”
