Season of Hope

by Lisa Jordan

  “I should’ve been there. It was my mess, my responsibility to clean it up.”

  “You need to chill out. Everything’s under control.”

  “No, it’s not, Victoria. Everything’s falling apart.” He waved his bandaged hand, then winced. “This...this is ridiculous. How can I do my job with a hand I can’t use for...what? Like six weeks or something crazy like that?”

  She picked at the piece of skin on the side of her thumb, hating the way he emphasized her given name. Stripped it down until it left her feeling raw and wounded like her hangnail. She leveled him with a direct look. “Your hand will heal, Jake. In the meantime, it’s okay to ask for help.”

  He paced in front of the fireplace. “There is no one else.”

  “I can help.” She moved to the window and pulled back the curtains, flooding the room with the light it craved.

  “Like you helped with fixing the fence?”

  “Feel free to blame me. I’m a big girl. I can take it, but remember—all I did was follow your directions.”

  “You’re a distraction, Tori.” His shoulders sagged as he sat on the edge of the couch, his voice dropping to a whisper. “A distraction that costs too much.”

  For once in her life, she wanted to be worth that cost to someone who valued her enough to want to keep her around, to want to be distracted by her presence.

  Jake reached for his glass and nearly dropped it. “This is really inconvenient.”

  “Imagine how those veterans you want to help feel.” Tori picked up her iPad and sat next to him. “You’re inconvenienced for a few weeks, but their abilities have been compromised for the rest of their lives. Some of them are learning to use artificial limbs. Maybe it’s time to stop your pity party and gain some perspective.”

  He blew out a breath and reached for his glass, steadier this time. “I’m sorry.”

  Tori rested a hand on Jake’s arm. “No need for apologies. I know you hate not being able to do what you’re used to, but you can use this downtime for something good.”

  “I really need to be working.” Jake scrubbed a hand over his face. “The farm needs me.”

  “Right now, you’re not going to do the farm any good if you destroy what the surgeon repaired. Focus on healing. Let others step up and help.”

  “Why do you even care?”

  Tori traced the edge of her iPad. “Because...that’s what family does.”

  She was part of his family at one time.

  She opened her Photos app and scrolled through the folders until she came across images taken by a friend that she’d been using for her fund-raiser research. She handed the tablet to Jake. “A friend of mine took these recently and thought they’d be a source of inspiration to help keep us focused. These heroes—they’re struggling with a lot more than stitches.”

  With a scowl, he took it and sunk back into the cushions. He flipped through a few pictures of veterans with missing limbs, veterans going through therapy, veterans working with animals. All of their faces had been turned away from the camera. He flipped through a few more, then stopped. Using his thumb and index finger, he enlarged one of the photos and brought the tablet closer as his eyes narrowed. Then he sucked in a sharp breath. Color drained from his face, leaving his skin the color of the afghan that had fallen on the floor.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Where’d you say you got these photos?” He set the tablet aside, then scrubbed a shaky hand over his ashen face.

  “A friend of mine took them. Why?”

  “Where?”

  “Some were taken at the VA hospital with permission. Others were taken at an animal shelter, then some were just candid shots.”

  “Call her. Find out.” His clipped tones pierced her like carefully aimed verbal darts.

  “What’s going on?”

  “Micah.” He pointed at the screen.

  “Your brother? What about him?”

  “He’s in one of those photos.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Of course I am.” He dragged a hand through his hair, doing little to tame the wildness. “I’d recognize my own brother.”

  “But you can’t see any of their faces.”

  Jake thrust out his left arm and turned it over. A tattoo of an oak tree with tangled roots inked his tanned skin. “Tuck, Evan, Micah and I got this matching tat after Mom was killed. There’s a tree next to the farmhouse that remained unchanged when the tornado nearly wiped out everything else. Dad had said our family was like that tree—Holland strong and rooted deep to weather any storm.” He picked up the iPad and handed it to her. “Check out this guy’s arm.”

  Tori took the tablet and viewed the image of a bearded man with shaggy hair whose face was shadowed as he slept on a park bench wearing ripped jeans, worn combat boots and a ragged army sweatshirt pulled up to the elbow...exposing a tattoo identical to Jake’s.

  “We haven’t heard from Micah in six months, not since he’d been medically discharged from the army after receiving service-related injuries. He cut all ties with us, and we’ve been trying to find him since. After one of Dad’s friends shared about a farming program that teaches veterans how to farm so they can start their own businesses, Dad’s been excited about offering something similar on Holland Hill. Since he can’t do it alone, I offered to help—I lost a good friend who suffered from war-related injuries. If we can find Micah and bring him home, then maybe we can help him get back on his feet. Can you find out from your friend where this photo was taken? Maybe we can get a lead on what’s been happening with him.”

  Color returned to Jake’s face. His eyes lit as he took the tablet from her and looked at the photo again. The corner of his mouth turned up. For the first time since she’d arrived in town, Jake had something she hadn’t seen in a long time.

  Hope.

  And this is what he wanted for his program—hope for those veterans who struggled with finding any in their situations.

  The success of this fund-raiser weighed on her shoulders.

  She could do this. She believed in her abilities.

  She’d do what she could to help find more information about Jake’s brother. Offer the missing piece in this family’s puzzle.

  Between that and the fund-raiser, maybe it would be enough to prove to Jake that she had value and was worth having in his life...distraction or not. She needed to try...for both of their sakes.

  Chapter Four

  Tori had a new respect for farmers. Getting up at four thirty to be at the farm by 5:00 a.m...well, that bordered on ridiculous.

  But she had given her word to help Jake and there was no way she was going back on it. Not with everything that was at stake.

  She was more than the city slicker he’d pegged her as being. One worthy of a second chance.

  She parked her car in the barnyard and headed toward the brightly lit milk house. Her brand-new rubber boots felt hot and clunky, but she couldn’t exactly wear flip-flops to milk cows. She’d worn her oldest pair of jeans and threw a pink plaid button-down shirt on over a light pink T-shirt. Her hair had been pulled into a ponytail and looped through the back of her tan baseball cap. Good enough. No need to bother with makeup. The cows wouldn’t care and Jake had made his lack of interest abundantly clear.

  She opened the door to the milk house, the creak of the screen slicing through the predawn silence.

  The steamy warmth enveloped her. A long cylindrical milk tank sat off to her left as pipes and hoses snaked across the walls and ceiling. The opposite wall held a stainless steel deep sink, more pipes and a smaller clear tank. Two doors opened at the back of the milk house, one labeled Office and the other labeled Restroom.

  A glance at the wall clock hanging between the two doors showed she was five minutes early, but Jake still beat her. One of the benefits of having a farm in the backyard. He stoo
d on the step in front of a dingy swinging door.

  She gave him a smile. “Good morning.”

  His eyes scanned her from head to toe. “Morning. Ready to get started?”

  She nodded.

  “I’ll give you a quick overview first.” He waved a hand over the room, then pointed to the overhead piping. “This is the milk house. Inside the barn, when the cows are milked, the milk travels into the milk receiver.” He flattened his palm against a clear glass tank...kind of resembling a water cooler jug. “Once it’s full, it pumps the milk through the overhead pipes to the bulk tank, where the milk is cooled quickly and kept until the milk truck arrives to pick it up.”

  Jake walked over to the deep sink and pointed to a rectangular box above it. “This is the vacuum pump control panel. This will remove air from the milking units and pipes in order to create a vacuum that is necessary to milk the cows. This button carries the milk into the receiving jar. This other button pushes water through the pipes and lines to clean and disinfect the milking system. Questions?”

  So many. But where to start?

  She shook her head, praying he wouldn’t quiz her later. She’d need Divine Intervention to pass.

  Jake returned to the swinging door and held it open. “Let’s head into the milk barn and get started.”

  She brushed past him with the barest of touches—her shoulder against his arm—but it was enough to awaken her pulse.

  Get a grip.

  The pungent odor of manure caused her to gasp, then cough as her eyes watered. How did people get used to that smell?

  She passed a series of metal bars, then followed Jake down four steps into a rectangular area lined with hoses.

  He spread out his arms. “Welcome to the pit.”

  That’s what it was called? Seriously?

  “Before we get started, let me explain a few things.” He waved his bandaged hand across the series of bars. “This is a parallel milking parlor, which allows us to milk eight cows at a time, and it offers cow comfort. Comfortable cows are better milk producers. These individual stalls allow them to eat their grain in peace and stand on warm rubber flooring that also helps to heat the room. Great in the winter.”

  Jake pressed a button, and gates on each side of the pit opened. Large cows lumbered into the stalls, eying her a moment before lowering their heads into the food troughs. Jake pulled out disposable gloves and handed them to her. “Put these on to protect your hands and to cut down on contamination.”

  He closed the gate, then lifted green and yellow cups off one of the bars. “This green cup is a predip solution we apply to the cows’ udders before milking. It kills bacteria and cleans the teats. The yellow cup is the postdip that conditions and protects the udders.”

  He moved to the first cow, applied the predip quickly and efficiently, then tore off a paper towel from the roll hanging on one of the bars. “Once we apply the predip, we grab a paper towel and wipe down the cow. The last thing we want is dirt and germs in the milk. Then we squirt milk from each teat to ensure there’s no mastitis, an infection of the mammary glands.” He wiped the cow again, tossed the used paper towel in the trash, then reached for a hose and sprayed away the squirted milk.

  Jake picked up a weird-looking contraption that looked like an oversize claw and ran the back of his bandaged hand over the rubber ends. “This is a milker. These soft rubber liners do not hurt the cow. Once I turn on the vacuum, the milkers pulsate to mimic a calf feeding. They sense when the cow is finished and release automatically. Move the milkers out of the way and apply the postdip the same way as the predip. That cow leaves and another takes its place. Questions?”

  Tori stared over Jake’s shoulder at the cows and closed her eyes. How was she going to remember how to do everything?

  “How do you know how much milk each cow produces?”

  He pressed buttons on a control panel. “Our computer systems monitor each cow’s output. They wear collars with computer chips in them, which feeds all the vital information into our computer systems.”

  “Seems like milking takes a long time.”

  He shrugged. “You get into a rhythm. We can milk eight cows at once, and it takes only a few minutes per cow.”

  “So then you’re done after a couple of hours?”

  Jake scoffed. “Maybe with the milking. After we’re finished here, the equipment needs cleaned and sanitized, the stalls need to be hosed out, the barn needs to be cleaned and it’s time to feed the calves. Once that’s done, then we can head to the house for breakfast. Then out to the fields to plant, bale hay or harvest, depending on the season. Then we have milk inspectors, vet visits, paperwork and supplies to purchase.”

  “You do all of this by yourself?”

  “Tuck does the evening milking before leaving for work. Dad takes care of the finances and the computer part of the business. I’m responsible for the morning milking and the bulk of the field work.”

  They’d only begun but his lowdown of a typical day wore her out already. “Well, I’m here now to lend a hand, so show me what to do.”

  “Shadow me for the first few cows, then you can do the other side.”

  Tori did as directed, then moved across the pit to the other cows, but the moment she touched the first cow’s udders, the cow stepped back, startling her. She dropped the predip cup on the floor underneath the cow.

  Oh, great. Now what?

  Standing on her tiptoes and stretching as far as she could, Tori’s fingers brushed the edge of the cup. The cow’s leg came up and connected with her forearm, just barely missing her head.

  “Victoria! What are you doing?” Jake hooked his left arm around her waist and pulled her back.

  She rubbed her reddened, throbbing arm and quickly blinked back tears pooling in her eyes. “I dropped the cup and tried to get it.”

  “Next time ask for help. A cow’s kick can cause serious damage.”

  “I’m sorry.” She’d been saying that a lot lately.

  “Don’t sweat it.” A muscle jumped in the side of his jaw, betraying his calm tone.

  In her first five minutes, she proved to be more of a hindrance than a help, but she was determined to do better.

  Jake grabbed the cup and hosed it off before handing it back to her. “Think you can handle the rest?”

  Gritting her teeth against the growing pain in her arm, Tori nodded and returned to the cow.

  She could do this.

  For the next hour, Tori moved from cow to cow, but even with his bandaged hand, Jake moved quicker and more efficiently than she did with two good hands.

  He was used to working alone. That was evident by the multiple times he turned and nearly tripped over her. But he didn’t yell.

  He didn’t have to.

  The deep sighing and flared nostrils spoke volumes.

  Once the last cow returned to the barn, Tori wanted to curl up on the grimy floor and take a nap. Every muscle ached, including her black-and-blue arm. But the job wasn’t done yet.

  She headed out of the office with an armful of paper towels from the storage cabinet and headed back to the pit to refill the dispensers as Jake asked.

  She pushed through the swinging door, and a strong spray of water hit her, soaking the front of her.

  She yelped, threw her hands up to shield her face and dropped the rolls of towels, which bounced onto the floor. Her wet boot slipped on the edge of the slick step and she fell backward, her arms pinwheeling as she tried to grab something...anything...to break her fall.

  Strong hands grabbed her arms as her back slammed into a chest.

  “Oomph. For a little thing, you pack a punch.”

  Tori found her feet and twisted to find Tucker wearing a weary grin standing behind her. Dark spots dotted his blue uniform. She didn’t even want to think about what they could be. She ran a shaky hand o
ver her face. “Thanks for catching me. That fall would’ve been painful.”

  Jake pushed through the swinging door and jumped down the two steps. “Hey, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Tucker caught me before I could fall.”

  “Thanks, bro.”

  “Looks like I came at the right time. You two are a dangerous combination.”

  In more ways than one.

  Tori reclaimed the soggy paper towels and looked for a trash can. Not finding one, she hung on to them until Jake could direct her where to find one.

  Jake pointed at Tucker’s uniform. “Rough night?”

  “Yeah. An accident. It was pretty bad.”

  “Sounds like you could use a hot shower and a comfortable bed.”

  “At this point, I’d take cold water and a cement pad if it meant I could close my eyes for a bit. But, hey, enough about me.” He glanced at Tori and grinned. “You’re off the hook, city girl.”

  Why did they keep calling her that?

  “Hey, don’t I get points for trying? And what am I off the hook for?”

  “I talked to my supervisor and changed my hours so I can cover milking for you.”

  “You can’t do that.”

  “Already did.”

  “And when are you going to sleep?”

  “Sleep’s overrated. Besides, I’m working daylights for the short term. I just need help with the kids.”

  “You got it.” She’d take kids over cows any day of the week. Even though she knew about as much about both, at least kids could talk. “I’ll help care for your kids. Annabeth will love having playmates. But I’d need to do it at the farmhouse.” She looked at Jake. “Are you fine with that?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “They’re Tuck’s kids. As long as he trusts you, that’s all that matters.”

  “I understand that, but it would mean I’d be hanging around more. I didn’t know if you...” Her voice trailed off as she bit her bottom lip and left the rest of her concern unspoken. He’d made it clear already how he felt about being around her.