Truck loaded, Travis pulled up in front of the barn and gave a whistle. “You sure you haven’t bit off more than you can chew? That place appears to be on its last leg. Is it even sound?”
Will stepped out of the truck and nodded. “Yeah, I checked it last weekend while I was here. It’s rough, but it’s sturdy. With a little cleaning out and a bit of paint it’ll be fine. You and I’ve slept in worse places during the war.”
“Yup, we sure as shit did, but it’s no longer war time, pal. You deserve better than this. Hell, that old basement is looking better and better.”
Will glanced off into the distance and said quietly to his friend, “I don’t think I could have stood it for much longer, Trav.”
Travis remained silent but put his hand on Will’s shoulder and squeezed. “All right then, buddy, let’s get to work so we can get you moved in.”
Will pushed open the barn door and was taken back. The place had been swept and was now devoid of cobwebs. The door to the tack room stood open. He and Travis moved to the threshold and Will gazed with amazement at Amy’s handiwork. The room had been cleaned, scrubbed, and freshly painted. The sun shined through the now clear windowpane that was framed with a ruffled curtain. An oil lamp sat on a lace-covered oak table and a freshly-polished wooden chair stood in the corner. The rag rug on the floor appeared brand new, and he wondered if Amy had made it specifically for him. If his heart wasn’t still lying on the floor in front of the cash register at Ray’s, he’d be scraping it off the rough pine boards at his feet.
“Interesting shade of green.” Travis eyes twinkled with laughter. “You don’t suppose she’s color-blind, do you?”
Studying the walls, Will didn’t think you could actually buy such a shade of paint, and if you could, he’d bet his bottom dollar they didn’t sell much of it. “I’m guessing she mixed several cans together to get enough to cover the room.”
Neither man said anything further. After a pregnant pause, Travis slapped Will on the back. “I think you’ll be fine here. Since we don’t have much cleaning to do, let’s get you moved in and then we can see about fixing the chicken coop. I doubt you’ll want those birds underfoot in the barn.”
The rest of the afternoon sped by quickly. With Travis’s help, Will managed to repair the chicken quarters, clean out around the barn, and get the old Model A John Deere running which was a miracle in itself. The smell of the earth and the fresh air awakened a feeling of hope in Will that had been missing for months. He could breathe again.
At quarter to five, Travis drove out of the driveway, promising to check on Will the next day to make sure there wasn’t anything else he needed.
At quarter past, Amy’s truck rattled up the rutted lane and parked next to the house. He should go out and apprise her of his presence in the barn, but he loathed to admit his own cowardice at not doing so. He didn’t think she was expecting him today, and he didn’t want to catch her off guard. Truth be told, he was safeguarding his heart. The little shrew had a way of getting under his skin, and he needed to leave in the fall with his heart intact.
Then a squeal shattered the silence. “Momma, Momma, chickens.”
Damn the birds. He got up and limped to the open barn door. Time to face the music.
Chapter 10
March 2013
Although Callie wanted to hear more of the elderly couple’s story, it was time to fix supper and both Will and Amy appeared tired. “Why don’t we stop for today, and we can pick up tomorrow after I get back from the city?”
Amy curled up beside her husband on the bed. “I think I’ll take a little snooze while you do that.”
Callie smiled at the pair. They were such a sweet old couple who obviously loved each other a great deal. She couldn’t imagine ever finding such devotion in today’s world. Marriages were tossed out the window as soon as the going got rough. Everything was disposable today. She thought of the friends she’d lost in Afghanistan. Even people.
After supper, Callie retired to her room to check her email and read a book to give Amy and Will their private time. At nine o’clock, she returned downstairs to aid Will with his nightly ritual and get them both their pills. Then she returned to her room where she eventually fell into a restless sleep only to be startled awake by the images of mangled bodies. She clamped a hand over her mouth to smother the scream lodged in her throat. She turned on the television in her room to the comedy channel in hopes of taking her mind off the haunting memories. As she lie there awake, Will’s words about not being the same man he was before the war played over in her mind—That the Will Henderson he knew had died on the battlefield as surely as if they’d buried him six feet under with the rest of his fellow Marines, and he wasn’t quite sure who the man still wandering around was. Callie knew the feeling all too well along with a crushing load of survivor’s guilt.
Come morning, she was tired and cranky, and not happy about making the trip to Rochester. She’d prefer to get her chores done at the house and listen to the rest of Will and Amy’s love story. Instead, she had to go meet the good doctor. Hopefully, he’d be making his rounds when she arrived and she’d be able to simply drop the stethoscope off at his office then turn around and head right back home. She worried about the traffic and crowds, especially the noise. A loud diesel engine or a truck backfiring could send her into a trembling panic attack. This she knew from experience and she had no desire to repeat it again.
Lucky for her she reached the hospital before the lunch crowd began jamming the streets, and she felt proud that she’d overcome her anxiety and not started trembling. She knew she needed to face the fear rather than buckle under it, but it was a lot easier to stay cloistered at Amy and Will’s, venturing no further than the small local towns around where they lived.
There were no patients in the waiting room at the office when she arrived. The nurse behind the glass partition explained that Dr. Henderson was out of the office, and Callie gladly handed over the stethoscope to the woman in scrubs and quickly made her escape. Unfortunately, standing in front of the elevators appearing immaculate in his finely pressed, pearly-white doctor’s coat with not one lock of black hair out of place was none other than Dr. Michael Henderson himself. Thankfully, he was engrossed in conversation with a young female colleague who stood gazing rapturously up at him undoubtedly dazzled by his witty charm.
Callie quickly back stepped out of sight, planning to wait the pair out. When she heard the elevator ding and the doors open and close, she hurried around the corner and ran smack dab into her nemesis.
“Whoa, there,” he said, as his arms came up to steady her. Then he stepped back politely. “Ah, Callie, I was hoping to run into you—oenly not quite so literally.”
Christ, how embarrassing. She tucked a lock of hair that had fallen forward on her cheek behind her ear and stepped back to put more distance between them. “Sorry, I was just on my way out.”
“I can see that, evidently with the devil on your heels. Running from someone?” With a gleam in his eye, he raised an all too knowing eyebrow.
“No. I was hoping to beat the traffic.”
“Then you should join me for lunch. I was headed down for a quick bite in the cafeteria. The noontime traffic won’t thin out until after one, so you might as well wait until then.”
Callie opened her mouth to retort, but just then the elevator doors popped open, and he ushered her into the small crowded space. When they reached the first floor, he pressed a hand to her back, maneuvering her down the hall. “The cafeteria is this way.”
Left with no choice but to go along, she followed at his side into the crowded dining area where they ordered sandwiches and made their way to an oddly vacant table. It wasn’t until she sat down did she realize there was a plaque indicating it was reserved for doctor’s only. No wonder he thinks he’s special. She recalled the primitive chow h
all the nurses, doctors, and staff shared in Afghanistan, if they had a chance to eat at all, that is. What a charmed life he leads.
The doctor frowned at her as if he could read her thoughts.
“Something wrong?” He waited for her to take a seat before he sat down across from her.
“What could possibly be wrong, Dr. Henderson? I’m having lunch with an extremely handsome, successful, wealthy doctor in a fine state-of-the art hospital?”
“Well, that’s the question I keep asking myself. For one thing, every time you call me Dr. Henderson it sounds like a dirty word coming from your lips. I’d appreciate it if you’d call me Michael since our families have known each other for years.”
Callie snapped her mouth shut at that accurate assessment.
“And two . . .”
Callie heard censure in his voice.
“I’m wondering which it is you have the most problem with—the looks, the success, or my work in a noncombat hospital? Or is it men in general? I thought it was every nurse’s dream to marry a rich, successful, good-looking doctor.”
Callie snorted. “Not all nurses.”
“I gather, and you would be the exception to the rule as I am unfortunately well aware of.”
“Well, you have no fear here. Rich, pampered doctors never were my type. I prefer them knee deep in humanity.”
Michael opened his mouth to reply when his beeper went off. “Sorry, gotta run.” He picked up his tray and glanced over at her. “Even us rich, pampered doctors, occasionally save lives. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
And I’m so looking forward to it. She watched him stalk off then finished her sandwich in peace before driving home to the quiet countryside. When she got back from the hospital she peeked in on Will and Amy who were napping and decided she would try and catch a few Zzz’s herself.
Try was the optimal word. Her lunch with Michael played over and over in her head. What was it about him that drove her nuts? She couldn’t honestly blame the man for being so damn attractive it hurt. Maybe if he didn’t wear it so well she would have less of a problem, and he certainly had a right to be successful. It was just that, well, her image of a great doctor had been shaped by Captain David Ryan, M.D., who worked tirelessly, with grit and determination to save young soldiers’ lives in Afghanistan. Who often appeared mussed on his early morning rounds because he stayed at a soldier’s bedside to make sure he pulled through the night. He didn’t do it for the status or the money which certainly wasn’t equal to what he could have made in the civilian world. He did it for love of country and his men. He was an American hero, her friend, and he died in the same roadside bombing that had almost cost her, her life.
Realizing a catnap was definitely out, she went downstairs to fix dinner. Amy and Will were watching the five o’clock news when she finished preparing their meal. She helped Will into a wheelchair and rolled him to the kitchen table at his insistence.
“A body can only take so much lying in bed and this body’s done had all it can take. I don’t care if you have to strap me in my chair, I’m sitting at the table tonight.”
Having plenty of experience at lifting and aiding ill men, she quickly had Will at the table with Amy seated beside him.
“Now tell us . . .” Amy glanced at her. “How did your meeting with Michael go?”
“Fine.” Callie grunted then bit down on the roll she’d been buttering.
“Ah, then you did see him. Did he buy you lunch?”
Callie nodded. “We ate in the cafeteria.”
“And . . .”
“Nothing,” she responded. “We chatted briefly, and he got called away.”
“Oh.” Amy glanced at Will and seemed dejected. “Well, he’ll be here on Sunday.”
Callie eyed first Amy then Will. What’s going on here? God, I hope they’re not trying to fix Michael and me up. “So, what’s the plan for tonight, a movie?”
“I thought after we finished dinner we might continue telling you about when we met,” Amy said. “I’m afraid we’re not halfway through the story, and at our age, dearie, you never know what tomorrow will or will not bring.”
“I’d love to hear more. After I get you both settled and the kitchen cleaned up, I’ll join you in the den.”
Once Callie helped Will and Amy back to their room, she rushed through her chores anxious to hear more of the story before they got too tired.
“All right, here I am.” She entered the downstairs den that had been converted into a large bedroom and sitting area for the elderly couple. “Who’s going to start?” She plopped down in one of the recliners.
“I believe it’s my turn,” Amy said. “I had finally gotten home to find Will had moved into the barn and brought with him a bunch of damn chickens . . .”
Chapter 11
March 1948
Chickens. Where the hell did the chickens come from?
Will. He must have already been here and brought them. Amy glanced around for his vehicle but didn’t see one. She felt her blood begin to boil. Why would he buy chickens without discussing it with her first, and what in holy hell was she supposed to do with the damn birds?
“Thomas,” she called, as he trotted off toward the coop. “Don’t you touch.”
She set the bag of groceries she’d bought on the porch and ran after her son who moved amazingly fast on his stubby little legs, but then hers weren’t very long either.
Just as she was gaining on Thomas, Will stepped out of the barn, snatched the lad, and held him in the air waiting for her to catch up.
Thomas let out a squeak.
“Here, let me have him.” She glowered at the man. Then took her boy from him and set him on the ground. “You never said anything about chickens. I’m pretty sure I would have remembered that.”
With eyes like saucers, Thomas stared up at Will. “Big,” he said, then promptly stuck his thumb in his mouth and began to worry it. A habit he’d begun, Amy noticed, after his father moved out.
She squatted beside her son’s stocky body and smoothed his curly hair off his forehead. “This is Mr. Will Henderson. He’s going to be living in the barn and working on the farm for us. Isn’t that nice?”
Thomas nodded his dark curly head without removing the thumb from his mouth where it was taking brutal punishment.
“Can you say hello?”
He seized his thumb sucking for a moment and glanced shyly up at the big man.
“Hi-wo.”
Will leaned down closer to her son. “Would you like to see the new birds in the coop?”
Thomas nodded, his eyes growing wide.
“How about you give me your hand, and we can go over there together?”
Her son gazed up at her, questioning.
She smiled. “Go ahead. I’ll be right behind you.”
Thomas not yet ready to remove his thumb from his mouth stuck out his left hand instead.
Will’s lips twitched with amusement as he moved to the other side of the little boy and took his fingers. Slowly they made their way to the newly repaired coop.
Amy felt a band loosen around her chest, and she’d swear she could breathe easier. She would never have guessed such a big Marine hardened by war could have a tender spot for a little child. His own father certainly didn’t. When she moved closer, she could hear Will talking about the hens and roosters as he lifted Thomas up to see better.
“Can I help feed ‘em and get their eggs?” her son asked Will.
“You’re a might small yet to do it without help, but if it’s all right with your mother maybe sometimes you can help me. There won’t be many eggs at first as most of the birds are still chicks.”
“Oh boy, oh boy.” Thomas wiggled. “Can I, Mommy? Can I help Will with the chickens?”
Amy recognized a losing battle when she saw one. She and her new partner were going to have to establish a few ground rules as soon as she finished making dinner. “If you’re a good boy, I’ll think about it. And it’s Mr. Henderson to you.”
Will cleared his throat. “Don’t you think that’s a bit of a mouthful for the lad? How about we compromise and make it Mr. Will, instead?”
Amy rolled her eyes at him. “We’ll talk about this later after I fix supper. Have you eaten?”
“No, ma’am, not since breakfast.”
“Normally we eat about six, but do you suppose you could wait until seven-thirty tonight and then come over? I hate to ask since you missed lunch, but I’d like to feed Thomas and put him to bed first. I’ll bring you out a snack to hold you over.”
“That’ll be fine. I’ve still a few things to finish up.” He tipped his cap then limped back to the barn.
She watched his awkward movement and for the first time wondered if he were in pain and how his leg would hold up under the strain of farming. She shook her head at her musing and led her son back to the house. She and Will had a number of issues to discuss after she put her boy to bed.
Once Thomas was asleep and dinner sat warming on the stove, Amy suddenly found herself ridiculously nervous. She’d changed out of her work clothes and tried on several outfits before she resorted to a pair of soft, beige, woolen pants and a brown sweater. She didn’t even bother to try to contain her riotous curls. She knew from experience it was a hopeless cause.
She hadn’t expected Will Henderson to arrive today. She thought she had a few more days to prepare. Thankfully she’d picked up some items from the market. She wasn’t quite sure yet how she would feed a big guy like that especially after he’d worked in the fields all day. Her grocery budget was severely limited. Usually on the weekends, she’d grab a bite at her mom’s and then eat lightly during the week. Thomas was perfectly happy with a stack of pancakes.
When The Geese Fly North Page 5