“What should I do?”
“I’d call the vet.”
“Which vet?”
“The lady vet. Black Canyon Vet Clinic. I don’t know where your dad went, but she is great and charges half of what the others do.”
“I guess I could find out from Elliot, or if I ever start to go through my dad’s paperwork.”
“It must be hard, losing your dad.” She kicked a little bank of snow with her foot.
“Well, yes, but it’s kind of weird. I didn’t really know him that well before. I think I know him better from staying here than from all the phone calls I had with him over the years.”
“Oh, that’s too bad. He was so funny. He helped me on a 4-H project when I was little, and he came into the library all the time before he got sick. He used to do the pull my finger trick, just ‘cause it was so corny it made me laugh. He would check out like ten paperbacks at a time and bring them back before they were due. He read every one, and I’m lucky to get through a book a week. I miss him.” She looked up. “Oh, hey, there’s my dad heading back.”
We left Frodo and the gang and headed for the driveway. Russ pulled in and hopped off his tractor, leaving it running. He pulled off his hat, revealing a grim expression. “Elliot’s mom is in the hospital.”
“Oh, no.” Jodie said.
“I should go in and check on him. Which hospital?”
“They’re here in Emmett, just the one hospital.”
“Oh. How are the roads?”
“You should be fine, even with your little car, if you just take it slow. You might want to think about getting chains.” Russ put his hat and gloves on and got back on his tractor.
Jodie stood there looking at me for a moment. She pulled a business card from a zippered pocket on her coat and handed it to me. It was for her dad’s construction business.
“If you need anything, just call the number on the back.” I flipped it over to see a handwritten number. I felt my heart flutter a little. “That’s my cell.” She grabbed a side rail on the tractor and hoisted herself up. “See you later. Be careful.”
“I will.” What did it mean for her to give me her number? I’m sure she’s just being friendly, neighborly. Right? She gave me her dad’s number, too.
I watched them ride back over to Sheila’s, load the tractor onto Russ’s trailer, and drive away.
February 4, 2013
It was a long day yesterday. I checked on Elliot and ended up running some errands for him, which I was glad to do. I fed his mom’s cat, brought him some clothes, and I picked up a shawl he said his mother would want, one her mother made for her when she was little. Elliot is very close to his mother, and she may not make it out of the hospital this time. She’s almost eighty years old.
I went out this morning to get eggs, and one of the little terror Orcs laid an egg way back under the main coop which was raised off the ground about three or four feet. I almost left it, but I thought about how bad it would smell if it broke later on, and Elliot told me leaving eggs for too long fostered chickens eating their own eggs (gross). So, I knelt down and duck-walked under the coop to retrieve it. I captured the golden coin and turned around to promptly smack my head against the floor of the coop. This made me pitch forward, and I almost landed on the hand with the egg in it, but instead I put my knee down into a quarter-sized ball of wet chicken poop. When I got to the edge of the coop, I turned around and carefully stood up so that I didn’t whack my head again. The rough board snagged my hair and yanked out a small strand.
I said a few choice words and finished up the egg run. As I walked across the driveway, I saw Jodie waving to me from Sheila’s place. I waved back, thinking I was glad she couldn’t see me close up, with my hair all teased out and poop smeared down my leg.
I got cleaned up and sat down at my dad’s desk, determined to go through some of his paperwork. He had actually bolted a pencil sharpener to the desk. I haven’t seen one of those since middle school. I took the container off and sniffed the shavings. I could almost see my dad sitting where I was sitting, turning the little handle to sharpen his pencil.
There was a large blue book with graph paper in it where Dad had written down purchases for the farm. The last entry was from October for goat wormer. I remember him talking about that in the hospital, and it hit me just then how stupid I was. All that ranting he was doing at the hospice; he was trying to teach me something. And I was sitting there like some moron. “Like, whatever.” Oblivious to everything. I put the book back and sorted through a stack of warranties and product manuals for pumps, goat waterers, and electric fencing. It was just overwhelming. I am in so far over my head. I hope I don’t ruin the place before I can get it sold.
I straightened up the desk and, afraid to throw anything out, I shoved a bunch of loose wires and metal twisty things into a bottom drawer.
I ate lunch, read
