Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
Samantha
Marin’s husband Brent, aka Farmer Brown, stood before all of us in the barn and said, “This morning we’re going to collect some fresh eggs, churn some butter, milk a cow, and pick some fresh herbs. Then we’ll go into the kitchen and stir up a delicious breakfast. Are you all ready?”
My stomach growled again—loudly, as I considered that breakfast appeared to be hours away. How long did it take to churn butter anyway? Thank God I’d at least had coffee, or I wouldn’t be able to function.
I stood in the background, near Mia and Brax, with the intention to stay as far from Caleb and Lilly as I could. Just as I was planning to walk off by myself to check out the chickens, Caleb fell into step beside me.
“Those little piggies back there sure were cute,” Caleb said, just to torment me.
“If Wilbur’s on the breakfast menu, I’m outta here,” I shot back. That made him snort with laughter.
“Oh, come on,” he said. “What’s a farm breakfast without ham and sausage?”
“Healthier,” I retorted. Why wasn’t he with Lilly?
“But not as much fun.” He let that sit. “Oh, that’s right. You’re not into fun.”
“That’s not what you said last night,” I reminded him.
He chuckled and rubbed his neck. “Okay, you’re right,” he said a little shyly. “Last night was fun.”
The tiny smile he sent my way sent my stomach aflutter. Only for a moment though, because Brent began to explain how to gather eggs. He walked us over to a row of chicken condos—that’s what I called them—wooden boxes on a platform, each with a grated window. According to him, you reached in and collected the eggs, right there for the taking. I couldn’t tell if most of the chickens had already flown the coop. Or if they remained, were they unfazed by egg gathering?
I raised my hand. “How do you know there aren’t—um—baby chickens in the eggs?”
“This part of our farm doesn’t have roosters,” he said. “But to make sure, we always candle every egg with a flashlight. If an egg is fertilized, you can see veins and a little chick embryo growing in there. Otherwise, it’s pretty clear.”
At the barn door, Lilly appeared, late, as I was coming to see was normal, but fresh-faced and perfectly dressed, her hair a golden halo of curls. “Sorry I’m late,” she said with a smile. She walked into the barn and joined us, looking photo-shoot ready in a cute sundress and full makeup. Beside me, Caleb’s gaze followed her as she joined the group.
On the other side of me, Mia whispered, “She’s done all that before coffee?”
I gave a little shrug. I’d never spent a lot of time getting ready, even before I entered medicine. With our training, all those nights on call where you had to show up and be on your toes at a moment’s notice, you learned to get no-frills presentable quick.
Lilly looked gorgeous, but then the woman would look gorgeous in a potato sack.
“Okay, kids,” Brent said. “Take one.” He handed everyone a basket. “We throw the feed on the ground so the chickens leave their nests. Just give them a gentle shoo if they don’t. Once they’re gone, take the eggs and put them in the basket. Then we’ll show you how to clean them, okay?”
He scattered the feed around the yard, and sure enough, the hens popped out of their condos and began pecking at it.
I took a basket and followed cautiously after Mia.
“Got my eggs!” Lilly said shortly, holding out her basket, which somehow held six. “Aren’t they pretty?”
“Nice,” Caleb said, lifting one out of her basket.
“So,” Tyler said, “did you know that you can tell what color eggs a hen lays?” He looked considerably less miserable than last night, thanks to the modern wonder of allergy meds.
Ani flicked her gaze up, all interested and wide-eyed.
“You look at their ears,” Caleb said.
“Chickens don’t have ears, silly,” Lilly said.
“Caleb’s right.” Tyler pointed out the small oval of skin next to a chicken’s ear hole. “If it’s brown, they lay brown eggs, and if it’s white, the eggs are white.”
“Cool. You’re so smart, Ty,” Ani said with a wink. Tyler smiled, proud to be complimented for his smarts. I was glad the two of them seemed to be getting along better today.
The couples were together, except for Gabe and Jason, who’d taken a hard pass on breakfast, so all looked well on the Western front. As for me, I walked with purpose around the coops, getting up the courage to stick my hand in one to grab my breakfast.
After most of us had found eggs, Lilly said, “I’d love to get out of this hen yard before I get my tennies messed up.” She called to Caleb, “You coming?”
“Yeah. Sure, as soon as I grab a couple of eggs, I’ll be right there.”
“’Kay,” she said. I’ll save you a seat at breakfast.”
Okay. I didn’t know what had changed after the square dance, but she actually seemed eager to be with Caleb this morning, and that was a good thing, right?
Caleb was checking for some eggs nearby when I reached into a nearby coop to grab an egg, just as Farmer Brown had directed. A sudden stabbing pain pierced my index finger. I withdrew my hand from the coop as if I’d been burned or stung and gave a cry, stumbling backward. Caleb caught me, preventing me from falling on my ass, just as a chicken flew out of the coop, squawking angrily.
I felt two things at the same time. The first, I admit, was pain. A trickle of blood dripped from the tip of my finger. I didn’t want to put it in my mouth—I mean, chicken saliva and all that—and I certainly didn’t want to wipe it on my shorts, so I stood there, holding my injured finger with my other hand.
Caleb was at my back, hard as a tank and so big I felt completely enveloped by him.
For one millisec, I felt… safe. Breathless. Embarrassed. And very aware of his hands on my arms, holding me, steadying me. Preventing me from falling into the hay under the coops which I felt certain would be full of surprises I didn’t want to encounter.
But I didn’t need safe. I regained my balance and examined my finger. “I think I just got pecked.”
Brent walked over, took a quick look, and said matter-of-factly, “Some of the hens think they’re hatching actual chicks,” he said. “I should’ve told you not to reach in if the hens haven’t left. Sorry about that.”
“Not your fault,” I said.
“Did you just reach under an actual chicken to get the eggs?” Lilly asked, somehow right next to Caleb, wide-eyed.
I laughed it off. “I guess I stuck my hand into places where it doesn’t belong.” And into other people’s business where it definitely didn’t belong, I added to myself. I decided I didn’t want to know what happened between Caleb and Lilly anymore.
That was my job. To help them connect. But now that they seemed to be connecting, it was painful.
The chicken who’d pecked me was hopping around near the coops, still protesting loudly. I didn’t blame her. Still cupping my bleeding finger, I bent over the chicken crates and said “I’m so sorry, girlfriend. I get it.” She was unimpressed with my apology, because she flew right back into her coop.
“Are you sympathizing with that chicken?” Caleb asked, brow lifted.
I straightened out. “I invaded her privacy. I tried to take something she’s been working on for a long time.”
Lilly walked up and stood beside Caleb. “It’s just a confused chicken who, like, thinks she laid an actual egg.”
“She did lay an actual egg,” I said. “It’s just not the kind that will turn into a chick, but she doesn’t know that.”
“Crazy chicken,” Lilly said. “I think you’re thinking a little too deeply.”
“And I think you should go in and wash that off,” Caleb said.
“Great idea,” Lilly said as Caleb, not waiting for me, grabbed my elbow and started to haul me toward the door. “What’s that smell?” Lilly asked, sniffing daintily.
The smell of chicken poop was already in the air. But it suddenly seemed especially fresh.
I stopped and sniffed. Held on to a couple of stacked hay bales and hiked up my foot so that I could see my sole. Ugh, gross . I raised my uninjured hand to my forehead and groaned.
“There’s a hose over there,” Caleb pointed out. I walked over and grabbed it. There was a wire brush hanging near the hose and I grabbed that too.
Caleb took the hose from me and pulled it out into the grassy yard. “Here’s a good place.”
A quick glance over my shoulder showed me that Lilly was taking in the whole scene, thinking God knows what. I wished he’d just go with her and stop trying to help me, the do-gooder. “Caleb, please go in to breakfast,” I urged in a whisper. “I’ll be there in a minute.”
Instead, he held out the hose. “Just give me your hand,” he insisted. “You don’t want to get some kind of nasty infection.”
“Death by chicken peck,” I said as he blasted my wound with cold water. “How would I explain that to an ER doc?”
He took my hand, which was now freezing, and examined it from all sides. A bolt of warmth spread through me despite the discomfort.
“Cay, you coming?” Lilly was waiting at the end of the courtyard, past the chickens, her arms folded.
Oh no. Last night I’d thought Lilly was apathetic toward Caleb, but now she was… jealous?
I took the hose from Caleb. “I got it. Thanks.”
Still, he hesitated. He was eyeing the brush, as if he might help me with that too, but I drew the line.
I dropped my voice. “Don’t miss your chance,” I whispered, tilting my head toward Lilly. “I’m fine.”
Lilly had walked back over and looped her elbow through Caleb’s. “We’ll save you a seat,” she said.
It was a relief to carry on alone without an audience. Of course, on dousing my shoes, I got my socks wet. But I managed to blast and scrub every speck of chicken poop out of those grooves in my soles, which was all I cared about. That smell… it was… well, a little too farm-fresh for the likes of me.
Besides, by this point, I was so hangry I could hardly think.
Still, I was determined to show up with eggs. I wouldn’t suffer the humiliation of being the only one who didn’t. Also, I felt that I could eat a dozen by now.
Just then, the chicken—my chicken, that is, literally flew the coop. She was brown with white specks, and she completely ignored me. But she left behind two brown eggs.
“Thank you!” I cried, snatching them up and placing them in my basket.
Just as I turned around, I spotted Caleb standing in the doorway, a puzzled expression on his face.
“Hunger is a fantastic motivator,” I said, tilting the basket toward him so he could see.
He laughed. A nice laugh, deep and a little rumbly so that I felt it in my chest.
“You are determined.”
“Totally,” I said as I walked toward him. “My middle name.” What was he doing back here? It was crystal clear to me that Lilly was unhappy that I’d diverted his attention. Heck, I was unhappy too. And nervous. I did not want Lilly getting the wrong idea.
He held up a small, rectangular piece of paper.
Except it wasn’t a piece of paper. It was a Band-Aid. “I’m a doctor,” he said as if that wasn’t obvious. “It’s against the Hippocratic Oath to leave people bleeding.”
I snagged the Band-Aid. “Thanks. But you didn’t have to do that.”
“Hey, I keep telling you that I’m a nice person. Besides, you were nice to me.” He moved his hand back and forth between us. “See, it works both ways.”
At that exact moment, the sun broke through the clouds, dappling down through the trees, bathing the plain barnyard in golden light.
His smile broke through to me. Made me feel all fuzzy and hot, like I’d just quickly downed an entire mug of hot chocolate in the middle of a summer day. Made me realize that Caleb was not only a good human being but also a really handsome one.
Just as suddenly, a more ominous feeling moved through me. A warning kind of feeling, telling me to watch myself. Because I could get myself in big trouble with a man like that.
And maybe I already had.
Caleb cleared his throat. A horse nickered.
He held out his hand, palm up. “Here, give me your hand.”
Why was I not able to think coherently? I found myself surrendering it. And I was sadly on the verge of surrendering the rest of me.
He opened the Band-Aid and placed it expertly on my finger, which was still oozing. He was so gentle, so careful, that I felt a sudden panic. I wasn’t used to anyone doing such a thing. As he bent over me, focused, long fingers steady, I noticed his hair, wavy and thick, dark brown but with golden strands lit up by the sun. He had the thickest hair. I wanted to sweep it back. Touch it to feel its silky-coarse texture.
What was happening to me?
“Boo-boo fixed,” he said with a magnanimous smile.
My knees felt weak. I realized I’d been holding perfectly still, not even daring to breathe.
And then he turned to go.
I shook myself out of the strange fugue. “Caleb,” I called after him.
He turned. He was tall, but he had a way of moving fluidly, with ease. I would bet a paycheck that he’d been one of the cool kids in high school, based solely on his grace. I understood how that confidence would translate into being a great surgeon. “What is it?”
“Thanks. For the Band-Aid.” Thanks for caring. For not leaving me alone . Those were the things I didn’t say out loud.
I’m not going to lie, but my hands and feet felt a little tingly. Probably from the ice-cold hose water. And the awful, stabbing hunger. And the nagging mental stress that I was way in over my head.
I headed into the farm kitchen with my eggs, proud to have earned my breakfast.
I decided that if there was bacon, I swear I was going to eat every last bite.