“When you do have a free night, I want you to flash your light three times at midnight, and I’ll meet you here, okay? There’s something I want to show you. It’s something that fixes me when life gets to be too much.”
Scarlett eyes me with suspicion. “What if I can’t get out for another month?”
She’s testing me, and if I were her, I’d do the same. I’m going to have to work for her trust. The good news—I’ve never shied away from anything hard. “Then we hang out in a month.”
“You’re going to watch my window every night for the rest of your life until I’m ready?”
“Yeah, but do you want to take that long for another adventure? ’Cause that sounds like a boring life, and you’re better than that, Tink.”
Her lips twitch with a grin and a bit of life flares in her eyes. Me—I’m smiling everywhere. Heart, eyes and face. Yet she rolls her eyes at me. “You’re impossible.”
Good God, she’s beautiful and I’m a lucky man because she’s looking at me. I crouch then lace my hands together. “I’ll give you a boost.”
“How did you make it up without a boost?”
“I’m taller than you.”
She frowns like she doesn’t like my answer then studies the tree. Damn if she still isn’t stubborn and competitive and that makes me proud. I stand because there’s no way she’s accepting my help now. “You’ll need a running start.”
“I’m aware.” She motions to the lowest branch. “Did that hold your weight?”
“Barely. I had to move quickly to the one on the right before I could gain my balance.”
Scarlett breathes in deeply and then she’s on the run. While I jumped straight up with the sprint, she sprints up the trunk of the tree, using it as a ladder, and then grabs hold of the lowest branch. She kicks up her legs, snakes them around the branch, then uses her arms to heave herself onto the opposite side. My heart stalls as the branch dips, but it holds her weight as she scrambles to the next, sturdier branch.
Her quiet laughter eases some of the knots in my stomach. “You look sick.”
I feel sick. Even though I encouraged her to climb, after that tumble we took as kids from a tree, I keep seeing her falling and breaking her neck. But I can’t say anything. I take as many risks as she does, and I’m not into throwing stones at glass houses. “Go to bed, Tink. You have to be exhausted because this isn’t as funny as you think.”
She calls a good night, and I watch with tense and ready-to-catch arms as she weaves her way up the tree then back into her room. I watch her window, wondering if she remembers the routine we had in place for so many years. A minute later, she reappears and waves. I wave back, and she closes her curtains. I head home, happy that I found my friend again.
SCARLETT
Only in a small farming town would an AP Environmental Science teacher offer extra credit for viewing the birth of a calf. Also only in a farming community would my teacher be the one who is the owner of the mother of said calf. Mrs. Bergen works at the school while Mr. Bergen works their farm full-time. There aren’t many farmers in our area who can financially survive on the farm alone. Many are like Mr. and Mrs. Bergen, and sometimes both spouses work a full-time job on top of the farm.
It’s Monday, and everyone in our class received the group text as soon as the last bell rang that the calf was going to be born soon. Camila pulls up on the grass next to three other cars of people we know at school. Down the way is Jesse’s truck, and there’s a strange flutter in my chest at the idea of seeing him again, which is stupid because we’re friends, nothing more. Actually, he’s a friend on probation and there should be no fluttering.
Camila, Evangeline and I pile out of Camila’s Honda Accord, and I take a picture of the barn we’re heading to because Dad has demanded visual proof of where I’m at and what I’m doing: I’m at Mrs. Bergen’s house to see the calf being born. This is the extra credit I told you about.
Dad: How long will you be there?
I sigh heavily. As long as it takes for a cow to be born.
Dad: Did your teacher mention how long it can take?
Is he for real? I start to type, I’ll ask the mother cow if she can rush this along so it fits into your time frame, but decided to delete that and answer: No. I’ll text with updates.
Dad: Thank you.
Camila and Evangeline are a few steps ahead, huddled in conversation, and they’re speaking in code. It’s their way of acting like I’m part of the conversation when I’m really not. They use only pronouns instead of names because whatever they’re talking about isn’t for me to know. Most days it bothers me, but today it doesn’t. I’m too busy searching for Jesse.
We enter the aging wooden barn, and Mrs. Bergen smiles when she sees us. Our science teacher is short, athletically built and has long red curls pulled back in a ponytail. She’s out of her normal black pants and nice shirt and in sweatpants and a T-shirt. “Your timing is perfect. The calf is about to be born.”
Our feet crunch against the hay as we join our classmates along the wooden fence that separates us from the spacious stall the huge dairy cow is currently lying in. Her dark eyes stare off into the distance, and her entire body moves up then down with her respirations.
I scan the six other students and not one of them is Jesse. A pang of disappointment, and then I survey the rest of the barn to see if he’s hanging in the back. I must have been wrong on the truck, as he’s nowhere to be seen.
Mrs. Bergen climbs over the rail with a stack of towels in her hand. My eyes widen as she hands the towels to the person crouched near the literal tail end of the cow. It’s Jesse.
“Why is Jesse in there?” Camila asks, as if she’s jealous she’s not the one a few inches from a cow’s butt.
“This is Jesse’s cow,” Mrs. Bergen answers.
“Really?” I ask without meaning to, and Jesse’s head pops up. His eyes meet mine, and butterflies take flight in my chest. I glance away, but then force my gaze back to his. He’s still watching me and a shadow of his Peter Pan smile ghosts his lips, as if he and I are sharing our own private conversation.
The cow’s body tenses up, and Jesse’s attention returns to the mother-to-be. A ripple runs through the cow, and all the conversation in the barn goes silent. A white glob of something emerges from the cow and my stomach turns upside down. While my classmates and I shift away from the railing and the cow, Jesse edges closer.
More of the white blob is pushed out and my heart beats hard as inside that blob is the baby cow. Jessie reaches out, uses his gloved finger to puncture the blob, and I grab the railing as Jesse cleans away the gross stuff from the baby cow’s snout. I wait for the calf’s eyelids to flutter and for it to show some sign of life, but it doesn’t and panic sets in.
I wildly glance around, waiting for Mr. or Mrs. Bergen to jump in, but they don’t. I wait for someone to say something. For Jesse to freak, for someone to cry out that it’s dead, and from the way everyone else at the railing is looking at each other, I’m not the only one in dread.
Another ripple goes through the mother cow and the entire barn is eerily quiet. Jesse is silent, the mother cow is silent, the calf is silent.
Jesse grabs hold of the calf’s front legs, and with the contraction, he gently helps as the rest of the calf’s body is expelled. Jesse takes the blankets, wipes the nose and the mouth again and whispers gently to the baby, “It’s okay. Come on, honey. Your momma is going to be on her feet soon and she needs you to be awake.”
Please be awake, please be awake. My lungs start to hurt as I hold my breath and silently beg the universe for there to be life.
The calf blinks, she blinks again, then she inhales. I breathe out, and Camila grabs hold of my arm as if she’s having trouble staying on her feet.
“That was intense,” she whispers to me and I nod, unable to take my eyes off of Jesse tending to the baby as if it were his own flesh and blood.
The mother shifts on the hay, and we all take an invol
untary step back as she rises to her feet and circles around to her calf. Jesse eases back and the pure joy on his face as the cow starts to lick and care for her calf touches me deeply.
Jesse drags his eyes away from the mother and baby, and when his gaze meets mine, he winks at me. It’s like time freezes as the ends of my lips lift. Jesse just delivered a baby, and I’m the one he’s choosing to include in his moment.
“All right,” Mrs. Bergen says, “if you want extra credit, you need to ask me questions.”
* * *
As Monday evenings go in my house, it’s pretty typical. Mom is washing up after dinner, Isabelle is at the kitchen table finishing her homework and Dad has retreated to his office to do whatever it is CEOs do.
I was so caught up in my own head that Jesse helped birth a cow, I forgot to pick up the mail when Camila dropped me off at home. Now, as I reach the mailbox, the evening is warm and the sky a beautiful dark blue as the sun sets.
I stop and look at the old Lachlin home. The house is one of those 1800s farmhouses that must have been beautiful in its day. I can imagine that during its prime the wood on the outside was pristine and painted white, the windowpanes full of glass and clear of any grime, each tile on the roof neatly on point, and the porch must have been filled with chairs for an afternoon of cookies and lemonade.
The years have been tough on the aging house. Along with the roof, the exterior is rotting, the steps of the porch gone and most of the windows are cracked and covered in dirt. Dad hates that the house still stands even though it has been condemned. He calls the decaying structure and Jesse’s trailer eyesores, but I’ve always loved the old farmhouse. When I was younger, I used to dream of bringing the old place back to life.
I tilt my head; something is off … The door is open. A flash of light swirls through the inside of the house, and Jesse walks past one of the windows. Adrenaline surges through me at the thought of talking to him, of seeing him again, but I’m hesitant. Because of my dad and because I’m not sure if I can truly trust Jesse yet. But I watched as Jesse helped bring life into the world so that must mean that I can trust him, at least for today.
With one look at my house to confirm light shines from Dad’s office, I sprint across the road and jump up onto the old porch. It creaks with my weight, and the beam of light that had been moving away from the door does an abrupt about-face in my direction.
Jesse’s hulking figure appears in the door, and he lowers the flashlight. His face softens the moment he sees me. “Hey, Tink. What are you doing here?”
“You have a cow.” Brilliant declaration, I know.
Jesse grins at me like he’s the happiest guy in the world and my heart flips. “I have two cows. The mom belonged to Gran and now the calf belongs to me.”
I nervously glance over my shoulder, and as if sensing my unease that I might be seen across the road, Jesse moves so that I can seek refuge in the old house.
“How long you got?” he asks.
“Maybe five minutes.”
He frowns. “Do you think you can sneak out later?”
So he can show me the special place. “I don’t know.” Because while I’m drawn to Jesse, I’m still wary. But when disappointment flashes in his eyes, I pathetically backtrack in a sad attempt to soften my rejection. “It’s a school night.”
I look away as I hate the twisting inside that comes from letting someone down.
“It’s okay,” Jesse says in his deep, smooth voice. “Everything that happens between us is at your pace. I’m the one on probation, and I’m fine with that.”
I risk a glance to see if he’s serious, and I can tell by the kind set of his mouth he is. I try to wrap my head around the concept of “my pace.” Everything is always on Dad’s pace, not my own.
Needing to change the subject, I scan the room then touch the intricate border on the corner of the wall. “I bet this place was beautiful once.”
“Gran said there used to be stained glass in the living room, and when the sun shined through it was like streams of gold.”
Jesse has a wistful expression that makes me wish I could climb into his head and see what he sees. He’s cleaned up since the farm. His hair is fresh-out-of-the-shower wet, and he smells of soap and shampoo. He’s also in a new pair of jeans and T-shirt. All of the signs that he had helped a cow give birth earlier are gone.
“I didn’t know you had cows,” I say.
“Gran sold the last of our herd about five years ago to Mr. Bergen, but he allowed Gran to keep ownership of one cow and he told her that he’d care for it as long as we let him have first option on renting our land.”
“So why is Mr. Bergen giving you the calf?”
“It’s a good-faith gesture now that Gran’s gone. He depends upon me letting his cattle graze on my land so he can use his land for crops.”
“Does he know you want to use your land?”
“Yeah. He knows it’s going to take a few years to get everything I want up and running so I think the calf is a peace offering to not start my plans with the pasture he uses.”
“How come your grandmother sold the herd?” I ask.
“She couldn’t financially and physically handle their upkeep. I tried to help however I could, but I wasn’t old enough or strong enough. By the time I could manage more things on the farm, Gran’s health started to decline. I’ve wanted to do so many things with this farm for years, but Gran needed me. So I did what I could to keep the farm going, then spent the rest of my time taking her to doctor’s appointments, making sure she was taking her meds, and doing her exercises with her. Between school, working for money, taking care of the trailer, making sure she ate and watching over her to make sure she was okay there wasn’t much time to do much else.”
I never had any idea how much Jesse did for his gran. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not. I loved her. I’d do anything to have her back.”
Before I can respond, Jesse places his hand on the rickety stair railing and pins me with a gaze that dares. “I want to show you something.”
A part of me wants to continue to talk about Suzanne as there was something very intimate in how he shared so easily with me, but I think of how Jesse gives me space and realize if he’s switching conversations so fast, he must need space from his overwhelming emotions, too. “Is it the thing you think will help make me feel better?”
“This might help, but it’s not what I want to show you. That’s farther on my land.”
“What is it?”
“Follow me and find out.” Jesse climbs the stairs, and curious, I trail behind. When I hit the top step, he turns off the flashlight, walks down the hallway and enters a room.
When I step in, I pause as the air is stolen from my lungs. Inside the ancient empty bedroom is a floor-to-ceiling arched vaulted window. In the very center of the window is a stone.
The window perfectly frames the sunset. The horizon is painted in strips of reds, purples, blues and oranges, and all those glorious colors fade into the rolling green hills of Jesse’s farm. It’s like the most beautiful, imaginative painting brought to life.
Jesse stands before the window with a sense of awe—as if he is standing in the presence of God.
“It’s gorgeous,” I say.
“It’s not my favorite place, but it’s one of them. It must have been heaven to sleep in this bedroom every night.”
I edge up next to Jesse and the world around us is peaceful and quiet, and it’s in such stark contrast to the constant screaming inside me. Sometimes when I stand next to Jesse, I swear he’s magic. There’s something about him that calms me, something that makes me feel as if I’m the one who is cursed and he is the only one with the cure.
“What do you see when you look out this window?” he asks.
“Beauty.” Tranquility. Serenity. All the things that I’m without.
“I see possibility,” he says.
“What’s possible?”
Jesse places his palm against
the glass as if he’s touching an old friend. “I see corn in the east field. Soybeans in the north. I would love to plant some grapevines near the house. In the west field, I see cows. Lots of them. Dairy and beef. I see new barns, I see new outbuildings and equipment. I see dogs and barn cats. I see sunshine and gentle summer rains. Some days I stand here and feel as if I touch the glass that somehow my dreams will become reality.”
Excitement courses through me because somehow as he talks, I see brief glimpses of his dream. The glimpses are so real, so vivid, it’s as if he has entered my mind and placed them there. “Do you think you’ll be able to do it?”
Jesse’s emerald-green eyes bore into mine, and I’m hypnotized. “Yes.”
Confusion worries my brow. “How can you be so sure?” How can he be so certain of his future when I’m terrified of everything?
“Let me show you.” Jesse offers me his hand, palm up, and I nibble on my bottom lip. We’ve touched, several times, but each time we do, I feel as if I’m slowly being led into a fire I’m not sure I want to leave. That’s a problem with fires—they have the ability to consume.
My curiosity is stronger than my fear, and I steel my courage to place my hand in his. The moment our palms meet, every cell in my body springs to life with a shot of electricity. He closes his eyes as if he feels it, too, but instead of holding on to me, he raises our combined hands and presses my palm against the stone set in the window.
“Do you feel it?” he asks.
I feel every inch of him against every inch of me even though the only part of us touching is the skin of our hands. I shiver in pleasure because it’s as if somehow his touch has spread and left the ghost of a delicious kiss on my neck.
“Do you feel the heat of the sun?”
I close my eyes, focus on my palm, and nod as the late day’s warmth still absorbed in the stone heats my skin. How is that possible? “Yes.”
Only a Breath Apart Page 16