Chapter 19 Everett
EVERETT
“Cancer?”
The word falls on me like a sack of lead to the ground., and my entire world goes so unnaturally still that I can hardly breathe.
“I’ll be alright, Everett.” He’s trying to be reassuring, but he mostly just sounds exhausted. “They think chemo will work. I’ll be back on my feet soon enough.”
Where did things go so wrong?
It’s one blow after another. Mary, Jenny, now Al.
I’m supposed to be focusing on the day-to-day of the ranch while my daughter whips things back into shape with Mary’s help.
Instead of any of that, I’m listening to Al comfort me about his own damn diagnosis, trying to see a way out of this hell.
I wonder if anything will ever feel real again, or if I’ll just be stuck in this dazed state until I’m six feet under.
“I’m heading up for some testing,” he says. “I’ll give you a call in a few days, alright?”
I want to argue, just a little, to demand to hear him talk for longer. I’m not ready to hang up, to say goodbye, even if it won’t be for the last time. I find myself agreeing anyway, and soon enough the dial tone is buzzing in my ear.
“Cancer, huh?” I say quietly.
The words settle into the dirt between my feet, and I laugh humorlessly.
It’s been a long time since I’d let myself feel hopeful. I thought I lost that part of me—the part that wants me to look for the positive, the part that sounds a lot like Laura—when I walked out of the hospital without my wife for the last time. Fate’s a bitter, cruel bitch, though, isn’t she?
It’s tough to realize that when I finally found that hope again, it was just in time to lose it all over.
I watched my wife fade away to nothing in front of me, and I was powerless to stop any of it.
How am I supposed to go through it all again with Al?
He wasn’t supposed to call me and sound frail and tired as he told me he wouldn’t be coming back.
He’s supposed to stay with me. He’s supposed to be here.
I wish I could panic. I want to put my fist through a wall, but all I can find is a gaping, empty hole in the middle of my chest.
I recognize it all too well.
It’s the same apathy that buried me alive next to Laura when I lost her. It threatens to do the same this time, and I don’t think I can find the resolve to fight it.
“If you’re done moping, Dad, the guys are looking for you.”
My head snaps up at the sound of Jenny’s voice, and I find her leaning against the wall of the barn. Her arms are crossed over her chest and she’s glaring at me. I wish I could break down and hold her close, just to remind myself that I still have her and her brother, that I’m not alone.
I’m not dead yet.
“Jenny.”
“That’s my name,” she says, arching an unimpressed brow. “Did you hear me?”
“Yeah,” I say blankly, glancing down to the dark screen of my phone.
“Great.” She rolls her eyes when I don’t move and gestures back toward the barn. “So are you—”
“Al has cancer.”
She flinches back from the words, the annoyance draining from her posture to be replaced with confusion, and then horror.
Her lip trembles as she tries to find words.
I can hear her response clear as day even though she doesn’t say anything.
First comes the denial, then the rage, then the blame. It’s all a mask for fear.
I only know because the same thing is happening in my mind, and I’d do anything to avoid facing that fear again.
“What kind?” she chokes out, her voice losing all its edge.
“Lung,” I say. “Don’t know what stage yet. He’s doing more testing now.”
“Lung cancer?” Her voice cracks over the words, and a laugh that’s halfway between furious and disbelieving drips from her lips. “He doesn’t smoke!”
The thought brings bile to my throat. Life really has a twisted sense of humor.
“I know.”
Jenny sputters at me for a moment, and I don’t blame her for being angry. It’s easier to be mad at me than it is to turn her rage to the cruelty of cancer.
“You know?” she spits. “God, you could at least act like you care.”
I wince at the accusation, but her eyes are already flooded with tears, and I can’t bring myself to be upset. She’s swinging at any target she can reach right now, and I don’t want to make things worse by responding to her in anger.
I don’t know if it’s even possible to make things worse anymore.
“Are we ever going to have a good relationship?” I say.
I don’t think about the words before they slip out, and I’m almost as surprised to hear them as she is.
She stares at me for a long moment, her surprise melting back into anger.
“Why would we?”
She sounds as exhausted and defeated as I do. The guilt that sits on the back of my tongue is bitter, and it doesn’t go anywhere when I try to swallow it down.
“You’re my daughter.”
It’s an egregious oversimplification of things, but it’s the best summary of all my reasons that I can offer. She’s Laura’s daughter, too, and we used to be so close when she was young. I miss her more than I’ll probably ever be able to admit.
“And you’re my dad.” She sounds bored, uncaring. There’s anger bubbling in her eyes along with her tears. “We’ll have a good relationship when you can act like it. You used to be a good dad, but I guess you’re too busy ignoring the ranch to think about anyone else these days.”
The words sting, but I can’t argue with them. My shoulders slump, and I flex my hands at my sides. I’m not angry—I don’t think I have the energy to get angry right now—but I need something to ground myself.
“I’m not much good at this kind of thing anymore,” I admit. “Maybe it’s time to think about selling.”
I haven’t let anyone take even an inch of the ranch I built with Laura, but what good is it if I’m just letting it waste away anyway?
Jenny’s mouth drops open, and she scoffs furiously at me, shoving off the side of the barn.
She looks righteously pissed as her tears finally break free to slide down her cheeks, and I curse at myself for failing to filter my thoughts.
“Did you hit your fucking head or something?” she asks blisteringly. “What… did you fuck someone half your age and start thinking like you’re 30 years younger, too?”
As much as I wish I could control myself, I’m at the end of my rope, too. I can’t handle the pain of Al’s declining health and the shambles of my relationship with my daughter at the same time.
“Is that all you’re worried about? The fucking age difference?
” I throw my hands up in frustration, too wound up to calm myself down.
“You can’t see past a number to let me try to be happy?
Mary is the first person since your mother I’ve felt anything for!
It wasn’t on purpose, Jenny, it just happened.
If all you’re worried about is Mary’s age, I suggest you get over it, and fast.”
My chest is heaving by the time I finish my tirade, and Jenny is staring at me in shock. We tend to argue plenty, but it’s rare for either of us to do anything but snipe at each other.
Vulnerability in our fights is so rare I can’t remember the last time either of us even bothered to try being honest. She opens her mouth, fails to find words, and snaps it shut.
I don’t feel much better for having gotten the last word in, but at least it means it’s over.
I’m too tired to keep on like this for much longer.
“You should call Al,” I say roughly.
She doesn’t answer me as I march past her into the barn, but I don’t expect her to. On any other day, we’d be back to snarking at each other in a few hours, but today is too heavy.
I’d really like the chance to calm myself down before throwing myself back into work, but as I near the back of the barn, Mary’s voice floats out from one of the birthing pens.
I almost want to turn tail and hide somewhere, but I’m also desperate for any form of comfort.
The pen has never been her favorite place, especially after her introduction to Cowthilda the first day she showed up. She must have a hell of a reason.
“Hey, there you go,” she says, and I hear a low, distressed sound coming from one of the heifers. “Just, um, breathe? Or push? You’ve got this, girl. Everything will be just fine.”
I pick up my pace until I’m nearly running the last few paces to the pen, and my brows rise in shock at what I see.
Mary is on her knees in the hay, dirt smudged up over one of her arms and muddying the hem of her shirt.
She’s petting over the flank of one of our youngest heifers with one hand, cooing soothingly down at her.
Her slim fingers are wrapped around one of the calf’s hooves where it’s just barely managed to breach, and she looks absolutely terrified.
Her head whips up when she hears the gate creak, and her eyes widen in relief at the sight of me.
“It’s okay,” I assure her, rushing over to fall to my knees beside her. “I’ll take over. What are you doing in here?”
I take the calf’s hoof from her and feel up to its ankle as Mary slumps back against the railing. She raises her hand to wipe her face, then pauses and makes a disgusted face at the hay and blood covering it.
“Tony said he was going to get you and he just left me here,” she says, her voice shaking in time with her trembling fingers. “He’s been gone forever. What do I…how do I help?”
I almost want to laugh for a moment, the absurdity of the situation catching up to me.
The first time she’d seen a calving, she looked like she was on the verge of throwing up and passing out in quick succession.
I never thought I’d see the day where she’d be willingly offering to help with something like this.
“Just… keep talking to her,” I say.
I flex the ankle in my hand, grimacing when I confirm my suspicion that I’m holding the calf’s back leg.
It’s not an impossible position, depending on where the other legs are, but it’s certainly not the easiest. I could really use another pair of hands here, and even if Mary’s willing, she just doesn’t have the experience to do this safely.
It’s yet another uncomfortable reminder of Al’s glaring absence. I try not to think about the fact that I’m going to have to get used to doing this without him soon enough.
Right now, I need to focus.
“What’s your name?” she asks softly, shifting up to stroke soothingly over the heifer’s shoulders. “You look like a Moolissa.”
I can’t help but snort at the name, shaking my head.
I just can’t get away from the awful nicknames from anyone, can I?
I refocus my attention on the spindly leg in my hand.
The heifer is pushing, whether it’s intentional or not, and I really need her to stop.
If she makes much more progress, the calf could be in serious danger, and so could she.
Thankfully, Tony comes running around the corner with Katie in tow moments later. They both bustle through the gate, Katie yanking birthing gloves up to her shoulders as she kneels down next to me.
“I’m pretty sure it’s a back leg,” I say, handing the limb off to Katie. “She’s only made a few inches of progress since I got here, but I don’t know where the other limbs are.”
“Got it,” she says, already starting to work her hand beside the leg.
I’ve birthed plenty of calves, and I’m sure I could stumble my way through this blindly, but Katie’s got a way with the cows.
I’ve never seen her lose a single calf, no matter how hard the birth was.
I stand and step back to give her room and let Tony take my place to keep the heifer’s legs as still as he can.
“What’s this young lady’s name?” Katie asks, brows furrowed in concentration as she feels around in the pelvic canal for the other limbs.
Tony leans up to read off her ear tag, but Mary responds before he gets a chance.
“I’ve been calling her Moolissa,” she says.
“Moolissa,” Katie says with a chuckle. “I like it.”
Tony glances up at me with a look of pure confusion, but I just shake my head, grinning a little. Even if I could explain, I’d sound so damn fond of the nickname that I’d make myself nauseous.
Mary keeps crooning sweet nothings to the heifer as Katie slowly works the other rear leg free. A breach birth for this heifer’s first season will be rough, but Katie is gentle as she works the calf into a better position. It almost feels calm, although the situation is pretty high-stress.
It’s moments like these that I think I wouldn’t have been able to stay away from Mary no matter how hard I tried.
She’s an unstoppable ray of sunshine, positive and kind and helpful no matter what’s going on.
From the very beginning, she’s been the same.
I don’t want to lose that. I want Mary to stay, even after the contract is finished.
I’ll have to put some real work into making sure her efforts don’t go to waste, but if I get to keep her smile in my life, it’ll be more than worth it.
If I can keep Mary and Jenny in my life, give them both the lives of happiness they deserve, maybe I won’t feel so much like I’m drowning anymore. If I can help Al in any way, I might even manage to breathe easy again.
Maybe I’ll be able to tread water one of these days.