Those were usually days when my sister earned some academic achievement, or my brother scored a goal on the soccer field to win the game in the final seconds. My shame wasn’t born out of jealousy, it was created from a deep need to be seen as well. I was the average middle child, and my parents only had so much time. It was easier to sink into the background than exhaust myself trying to put in effort for pride.
But it came at a cost. Slowly, that unintentional invisibility chipped away at my confidence. So … I began to distance myself. First with my drives. I’d take long, winding journeys, sitting on the hood of my car until the sun went down just thinking about what my life might look like in ten years. I didn’t have a lot of people I trusted back then, or none I really wanted to confide in about how I was feeling.
I took it a step further when I moved out to the city. I was a nameless face in a sea of millions, and I kind of liked it that way. My family didn’t keep tabs on me, and I didn’t have to check in just to be disappointed when I didn’t measure up in their eyes.
All of that, though, it leads to a sharp loneliness. And so my journey brought me back to the start. Maybe not to my nuclear family, but to where my family essentially started. When I used to sit on the hood of my car, imagining what my life might be like, I never in a million years thought I’d be living in a place like Fawn Hill. I never imagined I’d be falling in love with a small-town boy or cherishing the quiet peace that a place like this brings.
As I navigate Grandma’s car down this country road, and over one-lane bridges, I make snap decisions about where I’ll venture off. That’s the fun about having no plans and going with your gut. I’m still that girl, the spontaneous nomad who enjoys living without strings. Falling in love and staying in one place doesn’t have to change that.
I can still have adventures.
It’s just that, now, I have someone who might want to adventure with me.
A road shaded in a canopy of trees catches my interest up ahead, and I turn onto it. The car steadily climbs, up and up the inclining road, the forest pulling me away from civilization.
And then the tree line breaks and the road becomes gravel. I have no idea why it’s led up here, or what purpose this road serves. But I do know, that when I get out of the car, it is the most beautiful place I’ve ever been in my life.
I stand at the top of a massive, rolling hill, looking down into a valley. The landscape opened up, strokes of greens, blues, and yellows painting the canvas. A river rambles through the middle of it, cutting the farm fields in a babbling flow of water. I could spot cattle grazing, and the sun beat down as if its attention was directed solely on me in this moment.
There was a chance that I would only come to find this paradise once, and I’d made a promise a long time ago never to catalog or map my aimless drives. Because the point was to find a special place in that moment, and if life brought you back to it, then it was a sign of something bigger.
After sitting on top of that hill alone for what felt like hours, I picked myself up and dusted my hands on my jeans. I hadn’t thought about anything for that time, and it felt good. Sometimes, you just needed an afternoon where no heavy questions were asked, no feelings were examined, and you could just sit with yourself like an old companion.
When I got back in the car, I drove toward home. Today, an aimless journey was necessary. And normally, my brain would rebel against the act of settling back into a routine.
But not today. This time, when I knew the journey was coming to an end, I was happy to be going home.
25
Presley
The smell of sizzling hamburgers and Frank Sinatra’s voice fill the air, accompanying the fireflies flashing their butts around the humidity of Keaton’s backyard.
Sitting in one of the Adirondack chairs on his patio, I watch as my boyfriend mans the grill.
“You hold that spatula like you know what to do with it.” My eyebrow cocks up suggestively.
Keaton turns, waving the utensil through the air. “Once I’ve cleaned and dried it, maybe we could put it to good use.”
“In your dreams. Is my burger ready yet, I’m starving!” My stomach grumbles.
Keaton chuckles. “You have less patience than a hungry puppy. I just put them on the grill. Enjoy the night air, drink your wine. Listen to Frank.”
“I’m not sure I get the allure of Frank …”
He whips around. “I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that. The man is a legend, the ultimate man’s man. He’s an icon, a—”
“Jeez, you’ve got a real hard-on for a crooner who has been six feet under for over twenty years,” I tease.
Keaton turns back to the grill, mumbling about a certain woman who has no musical taste.
“Let me take you to my kind of club in New York City. The rap lyrics busting out of the speakers will melt your face off they’re so good.”
He shakes his head. “How can we be so different?”
“Opposites attract, baby.” I get up from my chair, walking to him and wrapping my arms around him.
I press up on my tiptoes to rest my chin on his shoulder, looking at how he layers the cheese on top. It begins to melt instantly, and my stomach grumbles again.
Keaton’s pocket vibrates, and I’m all too aware of what that means by now.
If it’s not Fletcher pulling him away, it’s a veterinary crisis. And on another occasion, his mother called in hysterics after watching the home movie of her wedding.
I hadn’t been kidding the first night we slept together when I’d said he took care of everyone. The guy was like Superman, piling damsels and distressed persons alike onto his back and trying to carry them to safety. Meanwhile, no one looked back to see if he was crumbling under the rubble of the disaster.
Keaton wanted to help everyone, and I saw how much that wore him out. How tense his shoulders were after a day in the office. The lines of anger and helplessness in his face every time Fletcher got wasted after swearing he’d never touch a drop of alcohol again. And the monstrous grief of his father’s death, that he kept hidden from his mother to spare her more sadness for herself.
“What is it this time?” I tried to keep the hint of annoyance out of my voice.
“An ewe has gone into distress while trying to birth baby lambs at one of the farms on the outskirts of town. They need me to come out and help.”
He stares down at his phone, thumbing through pictures that have obviously been sent to show him the situation.
And all at once, our relaxed evening on the patio is gone. He’s in Dr. Nash mode. He’s in hero mode. He’s already turning off the grill, taking the hamburger patties off distractedly and putting them on a plate. I watch them bleed juices onto the white ceramic as I try to keep calm.
This is how a life with him will be. We may be in a small town, but he’s always going to volunteer for anyone who needs saving. It’s an admirable quality, but what is the line he won’t cross. Will he leave in the middle of the night when I’m in our bed? Put a patient or his brothers over future children? It sounds insane thinking these things, but … I’ve never had a boyfriend before. And it’s pretty serious between Keaton and I if I’m in a relationship with him, something I’ve never done with another man. These are things I need to consider.
And I need to consider if I can be okay with them.
“I’m so sorry, Pres.” He turns to me, his dark eyes begging for me to understand.
Swallowing my concerns, I step into him and pull him against me for a minute.
“I am, too. But we can take our burgers to go.”
Keaton stills. “You want to come with me?”
I nod. “If you’ll let me. I want to see what you do. And I’m here to spend the night with you, no matter where that takes us.”
Awe, and a bit of storminess, shine down on me as he pins with me his gaze. “This could get ugly. We could lose the babies, or the ewe herself.”
The thought sends an arrow of sadness straigh
t through my heart. “I’m a big girl. Let me come to work with you. Seeing your passion, it will help me understand you better. And I want to understand everything about you.”
Keaton looks like I just told him the secret to life. “All right. But when we get there, you stand back. Only move if I ask you to. Got it?”
I crack a small smile. “Yes, sir.” He frowns, and I roll my eyes. “Of course. I’ll keep out of the way unless you need me to hold a leg.”
We’re there in twenty minutes flat, thanks to Keaton’s speeding. We munch on burgers on the way, eating them one-handed as he details what a twin animal birth can be like. How many he’s seen, what he might need to do for this lamb after looking at the pictures the farm staff sent. Listening to him talk is addicting; even if I know nothing about veterinary medicine, the way Keaton talks about his craft is admirable.
Once we arrive, darkness swamping the fields and barns of this small dairy farm, Keaton goes straight for his trunk.
“Here.” He hands me a rubbery looking suit that I realize after a few seconds are goulashes. “They are probably going to be big on you, but if you want to be in the pen, you’re going to want those on.”
I don’t talk, trying to digest everything that’s about to happen. I don’t mind a little blood and guts, but I’ve never witnessed a human birth, let alone a large animal. Part of me was downright scared, and the other was tingling with excitement.
Keaton pulls out a large case, almost like a toolbox, and then shuts the trunk, walking toward the only dwelling with lights on.
“Remember what I said.” He looks down at me with softness.
I nod and then see his face change. This is the doctor in him, the man who needs to put emotions aside to save the animal in need. He can’t hold my hand right now, and this is his way of telling me that if I can’t handle this, I have to take care of myself.
The dwelling with light is really just a small barn, gated off by large pens where I assume animals are kept. Right now, though, there is only one animal in here, and she’s crying out as if someone was stabbing her. The guttural, anguished sounds of the sheep penetrate my heart and make me suck in a lungful of breath. Anyone can hear and see how much agony she’s in … and I just want it to stop for her sake.
Keaton makes quick work of getting brought up to speed by the farm owners and then jumps right in. He examines the sheep, getting down next to her. From my vantage point, I can see something sticking out of her vaginal opening, and it looks …
Well, I’m no medical professional but it doesn’t look good.
“I’m going to have to get in there and pull the lamb out myself. It’s going to hurt her, you’ll need to hold her.” Keaton’s voice is the epitome of calm.
Two of the men move toward the animal while Keaton pulls out a few tools and a needle full of something that he injects her with. I hope to God it’s the best epidural a sheep can get.
Something in me moves without a thought passing through my head as if my limbs are on autopilot. I go to her, this wounded female animal, and take a hold of her chin, directing her eyes up and into mine.
“Shh, baby. It’s going to be okay.” I stroke her fur rhythmically.
“All right, hold her steady.” Keaton’s fierce eyes flash to me.
We all hunker down, and I try to keep my focus on her pained eyes. The minute Keaton begins to deliver the baby, I feel it radiate throughout her body. Her limbs go stiff and start to shake, and the sounds coming out of her throat are a hundred times worse than anything I’ve ever heard.
“Hold her!” Keaton snaps, and while I can’t see what he’s doing from my vantage point, the frustration on his brow is making me nervous.
What feels like a lifetime, but is probably only another minute, later, I hear the sigh from the mama sheep and a mewling cry from what must be the baby Keaton helped her deliver.
“All right, mama, one more.” Keaton strokes her belly.
There is a lapse between the babies, and I feel the animal breathe some relief. She’s gathering strength, regaining some of her wits now that the pain of the botched delivery is subsiding.
“She’s contracting. Here we go!”
The compassionate, thorough vet, the one I met all those months ago, is deep in the middle of doing what he does best. To watch him in the environment he excels the most in … it’s an honor. Watching Keaton work is an art form.
With one last push, grunts emitting from her throat, the second lamb slides out.
“Good job,” I whisper in her ear, a tear of joy sliding down my cheek.
Being in that moment, with this animal and with the man who helped her through it … it was breathtaking. There is a buzz in the air that pierces straight through my body. It’s life itself, creating sparks of electricity all around us. I’ve never felt more invincible, or more human. The juxtaposition is so intense that I might start to weep.
I stand, moving to the side of the pen as the farm owners and hands tend to the mother and babies.
“That was incredible.” I breathe, clutching my chest to make sure my heart is still beating.
He comes toward me, pinning my back to the wooden wall of the stall. His lips cover mine, his gloved hands staying at his sides. I’m not even worried about the slime and blood getting on me, which is odd, but …
I can only focus on the single point of contact. His mouth on mine. Possessing it so wildly that I might pass out from the assault.
The kiss is brutal and passionate, a lifeline connecting the two of us. Keaton stokes my body like it’s a flame and he’s an arsonist, just from the skilled use of his tongue and teeth.
We just watched life being born, a soul come into the world. It was beautiful and painful, all of the emotions mixing into one.
Only when one of the newborn lambs whimpers does he pull away, his forehead pressing into mine.
“You just keep surprising me.” The words are whispered reverence.
My eyes stay glued to his, words failing me.
Keaton swivels his head around to check on the baby lambs. “Let me tend to them. Go wash up and I’ll meet you back at the truck in ten.”
I take the opportunity to go wash up, because as much as that was incredible, no one likes the stench of blood and afterbirth on them. I hose down, even spraying some of my hair because the night is hot and humid, and my blood feels like lava. Something about watching a life come into this world has my adrenaline jacked to eleven.
Ten minutes later, Keaton joins me where I sit on the hood of his truck.
“Thanks for coming out here.” We aren’t touching, and both of our gazes look off into the dark fields beyond.
“That was truly amazing, Keaton. How do … how are you so sure of yourself?”
I think that’s the thing I both envy and love about him. He always seems so confident in what he’s doing. I can’t even pick out tea without changing my mind six times, and yet he could be thrown into a burning building and get everyone out alive without questioning one move.
A small laugh emits roughly from his throat. “Isn’t that the show I put on? Truthfully, I’m better at acting confident than actually being it. If you fool yourself long enough into thinking you know exactly what you’re doing … at some point, those around you start believing it. Even if you know, deep down it’s a lie. That’s my dirty little secret if you want to know the honest truth of it. I pretend to be the strong leader, my actions show a level-headed, responsible man who knows the correct path. But inside, I’m just as goddamn scared as everybody else. I lie awake at night wondering if my life means anything; if I’ve made the right choices. I’m not sure of myself, Presley. It’s a house of cards. One stiff breeze and I come crumbling down.”
His confession shakes me to the core, and I feel the raw honesty ripple through my gut all the way out to my fingertips. They tingle as I try to wrap my mind around something. Because Keaton admitting that he’s just as scared as everyone else, that his confidence is a lie, doesn’t
make me want to run from him.
That feeling I’m trying to grasp? It’s bottomless, hopeless love. The kind I have no shot at falling out of. This man, the one I originally thought couldn’t hold a candle to me or my fast lifestyle, has opened my eyes to a world of feelings I’d had no idea existed within me.
But instead of confessing that, I decide to give him just a small piece of me back.
“Sometimes I wish I could go back and tell my seventeen-year-old self that she was enough. That she is enough. I grew up thinking that everything I did and everything I was just never measured up. I wish I could tell her that things get so much better. That she should laugh more and stop worrying so much about what other people think. I wish I could tell her that she doesn’t have to have a conventional dream or even a conventional life. She doesn’t need to move to a city and get a high-paying job. Most of all, I wish I could tell her that the strength she needs is already inside her if she would just open her eyes and look.”
He doesn’t speak, and our mutual confessions hang in the air.
At the exact same moment, we reach across the hood, our fingers lacing, the crackle of electricity between our hands the only response we both need.
26
Keaton
I hadn’t felt like getting out of bed this morning … so I hadn’t.
Presley had felt too good, and I was getting used to waking up to her in my house. The past two weeks, since the night a sheep’s labor interrupted our backyard dinner, we’d been inseparable. Aside from work, and the occasional family or animal emergency, I was with her.
The redheaded temptress who made me laugh just as much as she drove me absolutely crazy with lust. In almost three short months, Presley had completely taken over my life, inserting herself in all of my thoughts and every decision I made.
Last week, I’d told two after-hours calls to wait until my office was open in the morning. I ignored a request from Mom to come over and cut the lawn, instead passing the task off to Forrest. Who, by the way, was still texting me bitching about it a week later.
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