Chapter 21 Hannah #2
I laugh as I head into the bathroom, trying to ignore my rising nerves over our second meeting with the Graffs.
With time, I’ll hopefully get used to them, but right now, I’m not there yet.
How much time will we have here, anyway?
Hell, I’m barely comfortable with Thomas, and the man is supposedly my fiancé.
I take a few deep breaths as I close the bathroom door behind me.
There’s a press against the door as the latch is about to click though, so I open it, and find Arson peeking in.
“Buddy, I need to go to the bathroom. I can do this alone, okay?”
The look Arson gives me is the absolute definition of puppy dog eyes.
His deep brown eyes seem to call out to me, pleading for me to reconsider, and I swear he makes his lower lip tremble as I slowly close the door on him again.
Guilt swarms me, but he will be okay for two minutes without me, right?
I relieve myself, brush my teeth and hair, and put on a layer of deodorant, exiting the bathroom in only a few minutes. Arson is still sitting there when I open the door, and he looks irritated with my audacity of leaving him. “Stop it,” I tell him.
“Arson, leave the girl alone,” Thomas calls. He whistles, and at the sharp tone, Arson is at attention, bristling over to Thomas’s side in an instant. Thank goodness. Arson is such a good boy, but I feel bad that he was choosing me over his dad for a while.
“Ready,” I announce as I enter the main area again.
“Off we go.” Thomas opens the front door and rests his palm at the small of my back as I walk through.
Warm summer heat smothers my body. The area is mostly shaded from all the trees, but there is still a lot of sun peeking through.
It’s muggy and hot, but thankfully a light breeze is present, ruffling the leaves and blowing strands of hair into my face.
The pond over in the distance is looking more and more appealing with each step we take on the path.
I try to recall if I brought a swimsuit, but I was so frantic while packing that I don’t remember half of what I packed.
Something I didn’t notice yesterday is the set of swings hanging from a tree. They’re simple, rope hanging down and connected to wooden planks, but it looks relaxing, like something out of a romance movie.
Thomas still has his hand resting on my back, guiding me through the trees. The path is mainly gravel, so I’m not worried about tripping over sticks or anything like that. The silence is nice, though, and I don’t have the compulsion to fill it with conversation. It feels natural.
Arson is about fifty feet ahead of us, his nose pressed to the ground as he scopes the land. Every time he gets a little too far, Thomas lets out a quick whistle and Arson returns to him, tapping his thigh before going out again.
It’s fascinating watching the two of them together. Arson is a well-trained dog with sharp instincts, and it’s cool to see him use his nose to search for whatever scent is hounding him.
We make it through the woods into the clearing that shows us Ron and Dottie’s house and barn. Ron is outside, a throng of chickens following at his heels.
“I’d bet anything that the chickens want whatever is in that bag,” Thomas says with a laugh. Arson darts toward the chickens, and I shriek.
“Oh my god, he’s going to eat them!” I panic.
Thomas whistles, and Arson stops in his tracks, circling back to us without hesitation. “No, he won’t.” Thomas laughs.
Arson boops my thigh this time, surprising me. He sticks by my side now, heeling to me.
“Morning,” Thomas calls to Ron.
Ron raises his free hand to wave, and a few chickens cluck in protest as he veers off course to meet us. They follow him with increasing speed, and I shift closer to Thomas. It’s not like I need protection, or am scared of the chickens, but if they’re hungry, you never know what they might do.
“How’d you folks sleep?” Ron asks. The chickens cluck and bawk at him. A few even go as far as peck at his boots, spurring him to grumble, “Alright, you menaces, here.”
He scoops a handful of grain, tossing it onto the grass. The chickens go wild, fighting and fluttering for a bite to eat.
“Well, thanks,” Thomas says. “You didn’t have to stock the kitchen for us, we could have gone shopping today.”
Ron shakes his head. “Nope. The less you two are seen outside of this land, the better, right?”
Thomas sighs, nodding. “I suppose that’s true. Regardless, it’s appreciated.”
“No thanks needed.” Ron waves him off. “Come this way. I’ll introduce you two to the rest of the animals.”
He leads us into the barn where I spot Dottie in one of the far stalls, hoisting a full shovel of manure into a wheelbarrow. I wrinkle my nose at the smell. I’m not sure it’s a smell someone could get used to.
Dottie calls from the corner. “Morning, you two!”
“Morning,” we reply in unison.
“Did ya eat?” she asks, shoveling another sloppy scoop of manure.
Thomas looks a little green in the gills as he swallows thickly. “Sure did. Thanks, though.”
Dottie nods. “Good, good.”
Ron leads us further into the barn. To my right is a stall that has a few goats inside.
A speckled black and white one perches up onto the railed fencing.
I shriek, stepping back in shock, a little scared it’s going to haul itself over and hurt me or something.
Ron chuckles, reaching over the barrier to scratch the goat’s neck.
“This here is Oreo,” he says. He points out a few more of the goats in the stall. “And here is Popsicle, Cookie, Snickerdoodle, and Pudding.”
“I wonder if your grandkids like sweets?” Thomas chuckles, reaching over and wrapping his arm around my shoulders. Right, he’s my fiancée I have to play the part. I lean into him, and even though it’s warm as hell in here, his touch sends a shiver through my body.
“Blame that one,” Ron says, pointing to his wife. “She always has to make the kids sweet treats when they come. And then, she yells at me when I try to sneak a bite.”
“Because it’s for the kids!” Dottie yells in return. “I want you healthy, especially after that scare a few years ago, my love.”
Ron leans forward, whispering conspiratorially. “I’m healthy as a horse. I had a checkup a few weeks ago. Doc says I’m fine after a mini-stroke about three years ago.”
My heart clenches as the memory of my mom receiving the call about my grandpa’s stroke flashes through my mind. My hands clutch at each other, and I pinch myself, reminding me to stay in the moment.
Do not get lost in your mind.
Pinching helps as I focus back on Dottie’s teasing remarks toward her husband.
Thomas glances down at me while they’re distracted, his eyes seeking and curious. I offer him a smile that probably looks fake as hell. He raises his brows, but I ignore his silent question, instead turning back to the Graff’s.
The stall that Dottie stands in is connected to an outdoor pasture, and the sun streams in through the open door. She clicks her tongue a few times, and the sound of clomping hooves has me curiously leaning forward to see.
A golden-red Highland cow saunters into the now clean pen, rubbing its forehead against Dottie’s hip. “Oh my god,” I whisper.
“What?” Thomas replies, voice edging toward concern.
“It’s so cute, holy shit,” I continue whispering, my feet moving toward the stall at their own volition. Thomas’s arm slides off my shoulders as I move.
Dottie sees my growing smile and lifts the cow’s head. “This is Fern,” she says. “She’s about five-years-old, and very friendly.”
“I love cows,” I reply. I probably look and sound a little odd at the moment, but I couldn’t care less.
I’ve always loved cows. I mean, you can drive a mile outside of town and see a bunch of them at any farm, but there’s something about having one right in front of you to make it even more exciting.
“Didn’t you hear them yesterday when they said they have a cow?” Thomas asks, sliding back up beside me.
I shake my head, my eyes wide as I take in this adorable creature. “No, I was so focused on the emu,” I state. I tentatively reach out my hand as I approach the stall. “Can I pet her?”
“Absolutely,” Dottie says, a smile crossing her face.
I hold my palm out and Fern shoves her head into my palm without hesitation, jerking her head back and forth when I freeze, almost like she’s making me pet her with the motion, rather than me moving my own hand. A giggle bursts from my lips. “Oh my god, she’s so cute I can’t handle it.”
“She likes you,” Dottie says. A nudge at my leg pulls my attention away from Fern. Arson is rubbing his entire body against my legs, nearly shoving me into Thomas at my side.
“Someone’s jealous,” Thomas says with a laugh.
“Oh, buddy, it’s okay,” I croon, removing my hand from Fern to pet Arson. He leans into my touch with his whole body.
“Dave is around here somewhere,” Ron explains. “His stall is here,” he points to the stall across from Fern’s, “but he tends to wander the property.”
“Should we go inside? I can give you a brief tour,” Dottie remarks.
“Sure,” Thomas agrees. I give Fern one final pat on her head, and follow Thomas. His hand moves to rest on the small of my back again as he leans down to murmur in my ear, “Watching you be excited over that Highland cow might have been the cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”
My cheeks burn. “No, it wasn’t.”
“No, it really was adorable. You got so excited, it made me think of my niece, Lennie, when she sees Arson for the first time in a few weeks. Pure joy.”
I swallow, trying to hide the slight embarrassment. I did get a little over-excited. I can’t help it, though. I love animals, especially cows.