Lonely Souls

by Rosemary Fifield

  “I thought we were going to the barn.”

  “We are. But the next bay is kind of a mess. It’s got a grease pit I can drive my truck over to work on it, and there are a lot of tools around. Here, let’s go outside. The sun is shining.”

  He led her through the first door that opened onto the dooryard and they stepped out onto the gravel that covered the parking area directly outside the house.

  Shelby turned her face toward the warmth of the sun and withdrew her hand from his arm. “So, you wanted to talk about Cassie’s baby. And your mother. Because she doesn’t know.”

  Dawson put his hands into the pockets of his vest and looked down at her. The sun was making her auburn hair glisten with red-gold highlights.“ Cassie’s best friend thinks I should claim paternity and take it.”

  “Really.”

  “But I don’t know what to do.”

  Shelby turned her back on him. “Cassie and I already had this conversation,” she said angrily.

  Dawson frowned at the back of her head. “I don’t know what you mean. What conversation?”

  “That you and I should adopt it.”

  “You and I? That’s not where I’m headed, Shelby. Marcia’s point was, adoption is a process that costs money and takes time and involves other people, but if I claim paternity, that won’t be necessary. Then, if Cassie still wanted to put it up for adoption, I’d at least have the right to keep it if I wanted to.”

  And you’d never tell your mother who the real father is?”

  “That’s part of what I want to talk to you about. The whole thing just goes against everything I’ve been trying to do so that I would never be in a situation like this! And yet, here I am!”

  Something in his voice made Shelby turn to face him. “But you’re not. This is strictly a good Samaritan thing to do. But if you do, that could mean you’re legally responsible for child support if she decides to keep it. Are you ready for that?”

  “I’d need her word that that wouldn’t happen.”

  “Do you trust her to keep a promise like that?”

  “Cass? Of course.”

  Shelby’s forehead creased with concern. “So you trust her that much. Because you know her so well. But you don’t want to marry her.”

  “No, Shelby, I don’t.”

  Shelby turned away from him once more to face the morning sun. “So, if you claim paternity, you could keep this child in the family. And who would raise it? Your mother? Is that fair to her?”

  “She’d want to do it, but that’s not the question. The question is, do I tell her it’s really her grandchild? That Blake’s the father?”

  Shelby drew a deep breath. “I don’t know. She’d love it whether it was her own or not, right? If you told her it was Blake’s, she’d know that Cassie didn’t … choose to be with Blake. She’d figure it out. What would that do to her?” She turned toward him again. “What if you just tell her it really is yours?”

  Dawson looked down at her. “She’ll expect me to do the right thing by Cassie.”

  “Meaning marry her.” Shelby reached out to find his arm once more. “Show me the cows.”

  Dawson turned and led her across the driveway toward the barn. “We’re passing the part of the ell with the grease pit area where I can work on the truck or the tractor if I need to get underneath it. The next section is storage, and then the hay mow. That goes up a story and a half. We used to just pile the loose hay in there with a pitchfork, as high as it would go because we didn’t have a baler until a couple of years ago. Now I bale it. The next section is the milk room where the bulk tank sits, and it has a sink and places for the milking machines after they’re cleaned. Then the barn where the cows are.” He turned her toward the two big sliding doors suspended on tracks that ran across the front of the red barn. “They’re in stanchions now, but as soon as I can, I’ll put them out to pasture.” He gently removed her hand from his arm and put his efforts into sliding the big door to the left to open up the approach to the hay mow area. “The tractor is in here right now. The hay mow is close to empty. Another reason I need to get them outside.”

  He led her into the barn and turned her toward the area where the cows stood side by side in two facing rows. They lowed softly as the two of them entered. “It’s going to be warm in here,” he said. “There are twenty-six cows chewing their cuds, belching, and pooping.”

  Shelby laughed, and the sound made Dawson smile. “What kind are they?” she asked.

  “Mostly Jerseys. Two Ayrshires.”

  “Brown.”

  “Brown and white.”

  “I love Jerseys. They always remind me of deer. They have such soft, liquidy eyes.”

  “I like them, too.” He walked her along the outside wall, away from the open gutter that ran behind the row of cows.

  “Can I touch them?”

  “Sure. Let’s go down to the end here. You’ll have to step over the gutter so you can get closer.”

  “The gutter?”

  “It’s a channel in the concrete, about a foot deep and a foot wide. It’s where the manure falls if you’re lucky. I’m going to step over it and then turn and take both of your hands, so you can gauge how far you need to step.” He stepped across the gap in the floor, then turned and reached for her hands and she followed him across. “There’s a hole in the barn wall here where the gutter ends, and I can shovel the manure right down the gutter and out the hole so it piles up outside. Some people have automatic gutter cleaners that drag the manure out with chains.”

  “Do you call it ‘manure’ when you talk with your friends?” Shelby asked with a smile.

  Dawson laughed. “No.” He led her up to Cleo, the cow closest to her. “This is Cleo. She’s three years old and she was born here. Her mother is Star, the one beside her.”

  Shelby reached out to pat the cow’s flank. “Cows have to have a calf in order to give milk, right? Not like chickens that lay eggs with or without a rooster.”

  “That’s right.”

  “So do you have any calves?”

  “Not yet. But we will in a few weeks. We sold last year’s heifers—the female calves—before my pa died. If I had known I was getting the farm, I would have kept them.”

  “What about the males?”

  “We eat our share of veal.”

  Shelby smiled. “And no bulls?”

  “Nope. Everything is artificial insemination.” Dawson moved away from her to look more closely at the cow in the stanchion facing Cleo. She was one of several he had purchased from Dave Wyman a few weeks before, and one of her eyes appeared inflamed.

  He turned back to tell Shelby what he was doing, and his heart stopped. She was standing perfectly still with both hands raised to her cheeks and her eyes were fixed. Her breathing was shallow and rapid, and he realized she had gone off into a world of her own—a world where what she was seeing had her transfixed and in fear. “Shelby!”

  She jumped, startled by his voice, and her hands dropped from her cheeks. The look on her face was one of sheer panic. She began to move away from him, and Dawson lurched forward to grab her upper arms, afraid she would stumble backwards into the gutter behind her. Shelby’s eyes widened at his grip, and she began to protest as she frantically pushed him away.

  “Shelby! Stop! You’re okay!” He pull her toward him as she moved precariously close to the gutter. “You’re in the barn! Don’t fight me, Shelby! You’re going to get hurt!” He gripped her tighter and held her in place until she stopped struggling and the panic on her face subsided. Then he softly said, “Are you okay? Shelby? What happened?”

  She shook her head and turned her face away from him. “Nothing. Let go of me.”

  Dawson loosened his hold on her, but his heart was aching as he let her go. “Shelby, remember where you are. There’s a gutter behind you. I need to help you out of here.”

  “I’m all right. I just want to go back to the house. Now.”

  “Okay. Okay. Just let me help you.
”

  The cow beside them began to shift nervously, and Dawson reached out once more to touch Shelby’s arm. “Here. Hold onto me. I won’t grab you. But let’s move. To the right. Good. Now, turn around and step over the gutter.”

  He led her out of the cow tie-up area and into the hay mow. Several bales of hay were stacked against the wall on the other side of the tractor, with a few singles forming a small bench across the front. “Can you sit down for a minute? Here on the hay? Please? You’re really white, and you’re scaring me.”

  Shelby sat without arguing, and Dawson watched her carefully. Her otherwise colorless cheeks were networked with unnatural tracings of lavender and dark pink where the scars stood out, but her breathing was normal and her expression passive, as though she were simply waiting him out. When he was sure she was going to be okay, he moved away from her, his eyes searching among the bales. One of the barn cats had given birth a week ago, and he found the spot where she had hidden her litter. He picked up a tiny gray tiger-striped kitten from the multi-colored assortment of sleeping fur; it barely filled the palm of his hand as he carried it to Shelby. “Cup your hands in your lap.”

  Shelby did as she was told, and he placed the little ball of fur in the shelter of her hands.

  “A kitten?” She brought it up to her face and brushed it against her pallid cheek. “How old?”

  “About a week.”

  “It’s so tiny. What color?”

  “A gray tabby. There are four, all different.”

  “Is the mother upset?”

  “She’s out mousing somewhere.”

  “I’ve never held one so small.”

  “It’s yours if you want it. In about six weeks when it’s weaned.”

  Shelby smiled wanly and held the kitten out for him to take. “I won’t be here in six weeks.”

  “Where will you be?”

  “In Portland. Or Boston.”

  Dawson watched her with an ache in his chest as he took the kitten from her outstretched hand. “Why?”

  Shelby shook her head. “I can’t go back to that house. I could never stay there now.”

  “Then stay here.”

  “Dawson …”

  “My ma loves you. She wants you to stay. I want you to stay. You know that. What will you do in Portland? Or Boston? You’ll stay inside and you’ll … you’ll disappear, Shelby!”

  Shelby’s expression turned dark. “How do you know what I’ll do? I lived four years this way before I even came here, and I did just fine, thank you!”

  “With Shane, right? But will he be with you now? Or is he going to be somewhere else? Gone all the time? Maybe for good?”

  “That’s none of your business, Dawson!” she shouted at him.

  “Yes, it is, damn it!” he shouted back at her. “What happens to you is my business, Shelby! If I thought you were going to be happy and well taken care of, I’d take you to Portland or Boston myself and wish you a wonderful life! But I don’t believe that’s what’s going to happen! I care about you! Don’t you get that?”

  Shelby rose to her feet to face him and color now flushed her face. “No, I don’t get it!” she said angrily. “Why would you? I’m blind! I’m ugly! I’m a freaking basket case! I don’t get it! What do you want from me, Dawson? Because there must be something! Money?”

  Dawson stared at her in disbelief. Indignation, followed by pure anger, swelled within him. “Yeah! That’s it! You figured it out, Shelby,” he said, glaring at her now. “It’s money. I’m going to need money to fix up this farm, and I know you’re loaded with it. How come it took you so goddamn long to figure that out?”

  He stepped over the hay bales and added the cat in his hand to the pile of sleeping kittens. “I have to go fix fence now,” he said, as he walked past her toward the sunlit yard beyond the open door. “If I were you, I’d stay right here until Ma comes out to find you. Otherwise you might end up in the bottom of the grease pit, and I plan to be too damn far away to fish you out!”

  Cassie removed the plate and spoon from her father’s chair-side table and walked slowly back to the kitchen to deposit them in the sink. The small of her back was hurting a lot today, and right now the baby was kicking up a storm. She took a deep breath and rested her hand on the unwieldy bulge that hindered her every move. This pregnancy couldn’t be over soon enough.

  “You okay?” Marcia watched her from the rocking chair on the far side of the kitchen. “Why don’t you sit down for a while?”

  “It won’t last. He always needs something.”

  “Let your sisters do it. Where’s Jeanine?”

  “She’s taking a nap. He kept her up all night. Amy will be home from school in another half hour.”

  “Oh yeah, like she’s a big help.” Marcia rummaged through her purse for a cigarette.

  “No smoking inside,” Cassie said. “Oxygen.”

  Marcia sighed and put down her purse. “I should stop anyway. Teddy’s getting serious about this having a kid thing.”

  “Are you?” Cassie eased herself onto the straight-backed chair across from her friend.

  “Um, I haven’t gone off the Pill yet, if that’s what you mean.”

  “Does he know that?”

  “I haven’t exactly brought it up.”

  Cassie smiled. “There’s no rush, right?”

  “Only that Arthur and Claire could bite the dust any time. At least, that’s how they make it sound.”

  “What about Pamela?”

  Marcia gave a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah, like my mother is dying to be called ‘grandma.’ Did I tell you she’s in Connecticut now, shacking up with some encyclopedia salesman?”

  “Do people really go around selling encyclopedias anymore?”

  “I don’t know, but he sells something.”

  “I know what you mean about your in-laws. After church last Sunday, Claire put her hand on my belly and said something about another spring lamb, and then mentioned they had been hoping to have one of their own around by now.” Cassie winced as the baby poked her with some pointy appendage. “God, I’d let you have this one in a minute. Interested?”

  “Not exactly the same,” Marcia answered. “What’s Sonny saying these days about taking it?”

  Cassie shook her head. “I haven’t seen Sonny. The last time I went to see Shelby, he was gone to a bred heifer auction somewhere.”

  “What’s up with her?”

  “She says she’s going to leave soon. She’s going to either Portland or Boston.”

  “With or without Mr. Beautiful?”

  “Shane? I’m not sure.” Cassie turned to listen as her father’s voice called out from the living room where he was seated in front of the television. She started to push herself from the chair, but Marcia gestured for her to sit down.

  “Let him wait. It does men good to beg. Speaking of which, how are things with Grant?”

  Cassie shook her head again. “I see him even less than Sonny. Besides, look at me. Why would he even want to be near me? I’m a goddamn elephant.”

  “You know, Cass, you’re supposed to get depressed post-partum, not pre. You’re jumping the gun here.” Marcia leaned toward her and looked her in the eyes. “What are you going to do with this kid? Are you going to put it up for adoption or not? Because one day, real soon, you’re going to have to decide.”

  Cassie’s father bellowed out her name, and this time Cassie pushed herself to her feet. “I don’t want it, Marcia. But I’m not sure about the paternity thing. I’m thinking, I might want to bring charges against Blake myself, or at least testify against him or something to make sure he’s put away for a while. I can’t accuse him of rape if Sonny claims paternity.”

  “Then maybe you better have that conversation with Sonny, don’t you think? He’s probably stewing over it right now.”

  “Cassie Anne! Where the hell are you?”

  Marcia rose to her feet and brushed past Cassie as the latter waddled toward the living room.

/>   “What’s up, Floyd?” Marcia bent over to peer into the older man’s face and batted her heavily made-up eyes. “ What can little ol’ Marcia do for ya? Bring ya a beer? I hear alcohol is good for the heart!”

  Cassie watched her father’s face light up under Marcia’s flamboyant attention. Cassie had never understood why her best friend had married Teddy Boardman, a man fifteen years her senior, but as she watched Marcia fawn over her dad, it suddenly made sense. Still, Marcia was so full of vitality that quiet Teddy could never hope to match. Did he really offer her something that someone her own age couldn’t?