Summer of Irreverence: The Rock Star (The New York Artists Series)

by Cathrine Goldstein

  “At least two miles that way.” He pointed behind them.

  Summer dropped her head, thinking. She turned to Jimmy and a few other men who followed her out. “You’ll need to hold her. And I need…” Summer wracked her brain, never having delivered calves in an open pasture with no equipment. Darn it, why couldn’t she be in a fully stocked operating room? Or at least in a barn? “I need rope. Do you have some on the bus?” She looked at Malcolm.

  “Probably.” He nodded.

  “I might. I definitely have bungee cords for the percussion instruments.” Eric was up and gone before she could answer.

  Summer spoke calmly to Jimmy. “When he gets back, I’ll rope her. If we’re lucky, she’ll drop before parturition.”

  “What?” Jimmy shook his head.

  “Birthing. It will help us if she’s down.” Summer spotted Eric heading into one of the back tour buses. “The most important thing is not to allow her to kick back. She’ll fight me as I reposition the calves. My guess is the fetal position is wrong—possibly breech.” Summer thought long and hard, breathing deeply.

  The cow began to drop.

  “Get back,” Summer put up her arms, pushing the men away from the cow. “She’s ready.” Summer nodded to the farmer. “This position will help.”

  Eric ran back with the bungees, throwing them to Summer.

  Quickly, Summer roped the cow’s forelegs and pulled them, handing the bungee to Eric. “Hold it as tightly as you can.”

  He nodded, his eyes wide.

  “You sure about this, Summer?” It was Jimmy.

  “Absolutely not. I work in operating rooms, not in fields. But I’m certain she needs help.” Summer squatted down again, palpating the abdomen.

  The cow panted heavily.

  Summer looked up at the members of the band, staring at her. “If you’re squeamish at all—leave now.”

  Eric dropped the bungee, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He shuffled his feet. Jimmy picked it up.

  “In two minutes I am going to put my hands into this cow, reposition the calves, and then pull them out. There will be mucus, placenta, fluids, and more blood and gore than in a horror movie. I won’t have time to help you if you pass out.”

  Eric nodded and stepped backward, quickly. He turned and broke into a sprint, heading back to the bus.

  “Okay.” Summer turned to Jimmy. “How many kids do you have?”

  “Uh…three.”

  “Were you in the delivery room?”

  He nodded. “One natural, two C-sections.”

  “Perfect, come here next to me.”

  Malcolm took the front cords Jimmy had dropped. Summer’s eyes darted up to Malcolm, wondering if all this blood was going to trigger a memory. She shook her head. She needed to focus on the cow—not on Malcolm.

  Summer tied the hind legs and handed the cords to Jimmy. “Pull the legs here, when she resists, pull tightly.”

  Summer swallowed hard, her eyes making their way back to Malcolm. His eyes locked on hers. She exhaled. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the farmer scratch his head again, and pet his cow, gingerly. She bit her lip, focusing on the task at hand.

  “Mr. Randolph, you have a malnourished Hereford in dystocia. My guess is twins. She’s already dropped the water sac, and there’s no significant progress. If she doesn’t birth within two hours of the drop—she will die. Your cow is in distress. Do I have your permission to assist her? You understand although I am a board-certified veterinary surgeon, there is a risk to any assistance, and your cow and calves may perish. I am not sterile, and I may bring infection to the cow or calves, which may cause complications for further pregnancies. Do you want me to proceed? “

  “Yes, yes…please.” The farmer kept petting his cow.

  “Okay.” Summer took a deep breath and squatted down beside the cow. Slowly, she inserted her hands into the birthing canal. “Darn it.” She shook her head. She looked up at Malcolm as if he could understand her, her arms elbow deep inside the birth canal of a cow. “I’ve got the tail.”

  “What does that mean?” Jimmy was doing a good job at remaining upright.

  “Means we’re out of time.”

  Summer glanced up and saw Malcolm studying the farmer. He understood the farmer’s worries.

  “I have to bring the hind legs up, and then we’ll have to move incredibly fast.”

  Perspiration dripped off Summer’s forehead, itching her, but there was no way she could scratch it.

  “I need another bungee.”

  Within a flash Malcolm was at her side.

  “You may not want to be here…it’s not pretty.”

  Malcolm didn’t budge.

  “Okay.” She nodded, looking up at the farmer. “Mr. Randolph, I’m going to push the first calf farther into the uterus. Once I get the legs into the birthing canal, I’m going to tie a cord on, and I’m going to start pulling. This calf will be born breech, so you have to prepare yourself for the worst.”

  The farmer removed his hat and squatted down next to the cow, rubbing her back.

  Summer exhaled, forcefully. “Mr. Randolph, grab her tail, and hold it upright for me. It will help me with the repositioning.”

  The farmer did as she asked.

  Summer took another deep breath and managed to reposition the calves hind legs into the birthing canal. Malcolm handed her the cord, and she quickly tied a double-half hitch knot on the legs.

  “Here goes…”

  She inhaled deeply and sat back, beginning to pull. She tugged gently at first, gauging her success rate. Not nearly enough. She needed way more strength. Summer stood now, digging her feet into the earth. She pulled out and down, harder, and the calf began to move, but again, not nearly enough. The cow mooed in agony.

  “He’s fighting me…” Summer spoke through clenched teeth. “The cow needs a c-section, but the barn’s two miles away, and I have no equipment. So we’re going to have to do it this way.” She clenched her teeth and bore down again. She wasn’t pulling fast enough or hard enough. She just did not have the physical strength to do it. “Darn it.” Summer shook her head, adrenaline coursing through her. Maybe it would give her the boost she needed.

  “Tell me what to do.” Malcolm took the blood stained cords from her hands.

  She gaped at him, breathing heavily.

  “I need you to pull back and down.” She saw Malcolm’s muscles flex in his t-shirt—he was incredibly strong. Maybe too strong. “The knot I tied should protect the calf’s legs, but you’ll have to be careful. Too much force and we’ll injure the calf. I’ll guide the cord…just match my movements.”

  Malcolm’s eyes locked on her. He nodded and moved behind her, holding the cord with her.

  “Ready…”

  She began pulling, and Malcolm did the same.

  “We need to move quicker—a little more force…”

  Malcolm increased his pressure, and the calf moved quickly.

  “Hold on.” Summer inserted her hands, checking the position of the calf. He was as well positioned as possible. She grabbed the cord again. “Okay, one more pull…” her voice strained as she and Malcolm successfully pulled the calf from its mother.

  “Fuck.” Malcolm squatted down behind her.

  She exhaled, audibly, and suppressed a giggle. Immediately, she went to work on the calf.

  “Come on…” Summer spoke under her breath as she cleaned out the calf’s nose with her fingers, tickling its nose to get the calf to breathe. She repeated her actions.

  “How long…?” Malcolm was standing next to her.

  “We’ve got sixty seconds, that’s all. Come on…darn it.” She repeated the actions once more, cleaning the nose. This time she grabbed a blade of grass and tickled the nose.

  There it was. The tiniest flicker of the nostril.

  “Summer…” Malcolm pointed to the nose. “Did you see that?”

  She nodded, exhaling. Her shoulders relaxed. “Okay. Mr. Randolph, the calf is a
live. We need to move her away and birth the other.”

  With Malcolm’s help, they untied the bungees, and moved the calf to an open space. She turned back to see Malcolm was nearly as stained in blood as she was.

  She fought the urge to put her arm on him, making sure he was okay. She wondered if the blood was too much for him.

  She shook her head, forcing herself back to work on the cow. Thankfully, the second calf delivered much more easily.

  ****

  Once both calves were nursing, and Summer had delivered the placenta, she sat back on the grass, her arms covered in blood. She rubbed her shoulder against an ear to scratch an itch.

  Using her cell, the farmer placed a call, and his grandson was on his way from town with a flatbed truck lined with straw to transport the cow and her calves.

  “Thank you, Dr. Wynters.” Mr. Randolph held out his hand.

  Summer wiped the blood from her hands onto the grass, but they were still stained a deep crimson. Nevertheless, she stood and shook the farmer’s hand.

  He clutched her bloody hand with both of his. “Thank you, thank you.”

  Summer stared at the man’s toothless grin and worn boots. He was struggling, from his head to his toes. She sighed, smiling at him.

  “I’m just happy it all worked out.”

  “Yes, yes.” The farmer beamed at her, finally letting go of her hand. “But Doctor, I know you must be expensive…what with how smart you are and all.”

  Summer scoffed and caught Malcolm’s slight grin.

  “But money’s a bit tight.” The farmer lifted his hat, exposing very fine thinning hair, and then replaced it. “I’ll find a way, but it may take some time…”

  “Mr. Randolph, I don’t want your money. But what I do want is for your cows to eat better. This Hereford is malnourished.” Summer used a stern tone when she spoke, pointing at the cow. “I know money can be tight, Mr. Randolph, but your cows have to eat better. There are subsidies for farmers such as yourself. The government can assist you. Do you understand?”

  “Yes. But how?”

  Just then the grandson pulled up in his truck. Malcolm hung back, making sure he wouldn’t be recognized, as Summer took a few minutes to explain the options to the grandson.

  After she finished lecturing the farmers, and both men promised to take better care of the cows, Summer smiled sweetly.

  The grandson made his way back behind the wheel—his distance and preoccupation assuring Malcolm’s continued anonymity.

  Just as the farmer was about to climb into the cab of his truck, he turned back. “A young doctor like you…helping an old man like me. Thank you. And so beautiful, too.” He tipped his hat when he spoke. “I’m sure you’re taken, but if not, my grandson is quite a fine young gentleman.”

  Summer snickered at the groan coming from inside the truck.

  “It was my pleasure. And thank you for the compliment, Mr. Randolph.”

  The farmer snapped his jaw shut, giving up. He climbed into the truck with a final, “Thank you, Dr. Wynters, thank you.”

  Mr. Randolph was still smiling as the truck pulled away.

  Malcolm was not.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Malcolm continued to stare at her. How? How could he have been so wrong? He studied her with her soft, white peasant shirt doused in red…the color of betrayal. She looked like a fallen angel.

  All around, the ground was covered in blood and guts—another accident scene—another end to something wonderful.

  How fitting. Here it was, the second time his life was ending, and it was exploding with all the spectacle of another horrible accident. He was dying for a second time, and he deserved it. Because this time the accident was intangible—this time, the disaster came from trusting her.

  “Malcolm…” Her voice was soft, her eyes welling with tears. She took a step toward him.

  He put up his hand and shook his head.

  She nodded, looking down at the ground.

  Jimmy spoke. “Hey, uh, I’m going to go check on the buses…and the guys.” He walked off, leaving them alone.

  Malcolm shook his head, tears threatening his eyes. “All I wanna know is, why? Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I—I wanted to.”

  Summer stepped closer, and Malcolm ran his bloody hand through his hair. He wanted to hold her—more than anything—but this gnawing ache in his gut would not allow it. How? Why? Why would she lie? After everything? After what they had shared? And who the hell did he think he was to be happy? This was fitting. He deserved to be betrayed. There was no room in his life for love. He breathed heavily, keeping his anger in check.

  “Malcolm, please, believe me.”

  “Believe you?” His eyes danced with fury. “Why should I believe anything you say?”

  She swallowed hard as tears streamed down her cheeks. “I know I deserve that. But please let me try to explain. Jeanette told me—”

  “Wait.” Malcolm held up his hand again. “Was this all a set up?” He heard the vulnerability in his voice, wondering how he could be so gullible.

  “The first night, only. I went to your concert with Jeanette, hoping you’d notice me.”

  “For what? To get your kicks with a…a rock star before you settle down to some nice suburban life with a good-guy doctor husband?”

  “No.” She shook her head, forcefully. “No. I had the chance for all of that, but it’s not what I want.”

  Malcolm stepped backward, a stab of jealousy hitting him square in the heart. So the other man, he had wanted her all for himself, too. Malcolm ground his teeth, fighting the urge to sweep her up and make her his—for good.

  Her eyes pleaded with him, begging for understanding. “Yes, I have one summer. Yes, I wanted to be with you before I really knew you. But now that I know you, I want to be with you even more. And yes, it was horrible, and I never should have lied about being a model, but Jeanette said you would only…be with…models…so I lied, hoping you’d find me more attractive.”

  Malcolm began to see red. “Yeah, well, let me tell you—I never, not once, believed you were a model.” He set his jaw.

  She nodded, biting her lip. She looked down at the ground.

  Crap. He didn’t mean it. Not like that, anyway. She was the most stunningly beautiful woman he’d ever known. He loved her body more than the bodies of all the swimsuit models he’d slept with. Watching Summer’s shoulders slump and her face redden, he felt terrible—like a horrible bully. But he was just so angry…

  To her credit, she faced him and smiled a small smile. “I know that. You’re a smart man. I’m sorry I lied. And I’m sorry I perpetuated the lie. I didn’t think being a vet would be sexy enough for you, I guess.”

  Malcolm shook his head, couldn’t she understand her brain and capabilities were two of the things he liked most about her? That what she just did—how she saved the cow and the calves and even that farmer—how that was so much sexier than a woman who simply poses on the cover of a magazine?

  “I was afraid if I told you the truth, it would ruin everything. Instead, I ruined everything by keeping quiet.”

  “You didn’t ruin everything.”

  Summer raised her eyes to him. Her entire face was gorgeous—soft and feminine—but those eyes… Time and again he had found himself lost in those eyes. Hope flashed in her smile, and she inhaled deeply. Malcolm’s chest was heaving.

  “You didn’t ruin everything, because there was never anything to ruin.”

  “Oh.” She swallowed hard and stepped back. “I—I’m sorry.”

  They stood for minutes more, with Malcolm’s eyes fixed on her, memorizing every detail of the soft, beautiful person she was. He wished he could change everything he just said. But it wouldn’t matter. He had no right to be happy, and the sooner he let her go, the better. His hands balled into fists, which he clenched and released, repeatedly.

  Jimmy approached cautiously. Neither Malcolm, nor Summer, turned to him.

 
Jimmy cleared his throat. “Hey, guys, what do you say we hit the road? We have a long trip ahead.”

  The sunlight bounced off Summer’s hair, and the acrid feel of betrayal burned through Malcolm’s veins.

  “No.” Malcolm shook his head. He still had a few stops left on the tour. How dare she weaken him like this? “No.”

  Malcolm stepped forward, facing Summer. He swallowed, hard. Ire rose inside him like a fast moving fire. He knew, once again, he was about to destroy everything in his wake, but he couldn’t help himself.

  “Jimmy,” Malcolm’s eyes were locked on Summer as he spoke, “take Dr. Wynters to one of the accessory buses. Let her get cleaned up. Then have someone escort her to the nearest airport. Make sure she has enough money for her flight, and all expenses.”

  Summer’s chest heaved uncontrollably.

  “Mal,” Jimmy’s voice was quiet and brotherly. “Are you sure—?”

  Malcolm just nodded.

  Summer began to back away, free flowing tears falling down her cheeks. “Malcolm, this doesn’t have to be like this. I made a mistake, yes…”

  He turned away, unable to look at her.

  She nodded, wiping her cheeks with her bloody hand. “You know what? I think you’re happy about this. I think I just made it easy for you. I just gave you the out you needed.” She turned and ran for the bus.

  Malcolm stared after her as she climbed the steps of one of the buses, remembering the first time he watched her climb the stairs of his tour bus—the beauty of her hair, the softness of her shirt, the roundness to her jeans. She had teased him then, flirting with him, giddy and fun. Surprisingly, a smile swept across Malcolm’s face at the memory, and then a radiating pain shot down his arms—identical to the last time he had lost someone he loved. Malcolm shook his head, rubbing the pain in his chest, trying desperately to make it—all of it—disappear.

  Summer vanished into the bus with one final gaze over her shoulder, and this time, Malcolm was certain this would be the last time he would ever see her.