Page 22 of Homesick

I walked into his living room to find a seemingly broken man draped over the couch. I was half expecting him to be doped up on pain meds, but it looks like he’s embracing the full extent of his new injury.

I plop down on the recliner next to him and examine his stony expression. My brother is no stranger to freak accidents. He was in and out of the emergency room as a kid and had broken just about every bone in his body. I used to admire his ability to look fear in the face until it ended with him in a cast for months at a time. I did, however, envy when he got to be the kid with crutches that got special treatment in school. Part of me wanted to break a bone just so I had a cast for everyone to sign.

I sigh as I look at Chris’s newest addition to his collection. The boot adorning his right leg is propped up in the air like a shiny new trophy, but he doesn’t seem excited about his newest win. I can guess why.

“I’m assuming you won’t be able to do much at the farm for the next few weeks,” I say, trying to divert his attention from the ceiling.

He lets out a big huff and sits up so he can see me. I jump up to help him, but he gives me a dirty look until my butt is planted in the chair again. After several grunts, he props his boot up on the coffee table next to the sad piece of pie I brought to cheer him up.

“Yeah, I’m going to be out for at least six weeks.”

Chris is cut off when we both hear a car door being slammed shut. Before I even peek out the window, I already know who it is.

After a few minutes and several dirty looks shot at my brother, Blake comes inside and sits on the other side of Chris. It reminds me of the summer Chris broke his leg and my mom made him stay inside even when he desperately wanted to be outside.

Blake and I felt bad for him, so we decided to spend the first few days of his sentencing on the couch watching all the Fast and the Furious movies. Back when we could keep up with all the new ones. That was the summer before Blake started to look at me as more than just a friend.

“I’m glad you’re both here,” Chris says like he’s kicking off some big meeting. “I’m obviously going to be out of commission for the next few weeks so I’m going to need help keeping up with the farm. We have a few farm hands, but I can’t have Dad picking up any extra slack. He’s not as spry as he used to be, or as he thinks he still is. I wanted to see if both of you would pitch in and pick up some chores.”

So much for steering clear of Blake.

“Of course, Chris. Anything you need,” I say to my big brother. I know he’s injured, but I would love to hit him at this very moment.

“Yeah, sure, dude. I can help out as much as possible,” Blake replies. He’s always been a good friend, even when he decided to date his best friend’s little sister. I knew our relationship in high school caused a big rift between them, but when you’re a teenager you don’t exactly think with your head.

After discussing some of the chores that needed to be done daily and throughout the week, Chris left it to Blake and me to figure out a schedule. Soon enough, Blake and I leave Chris to get some rest and head out the door. I casually walk out to my car and turn to Blake just as he’s doing the same. He goes to talk first, but I cut him off. “I don’t need your help. I can handle the chores on my own.”

“You know I’m not going to let you do that. I made a promise to your brother, and I intend to keep it.”

I take a deep breath to show how frustrated I am with his response. “Fine, I’ll just say it then. I don’t think it’s a good idea for us to work together.”

I cross my arms and lean back against my car. It takes him a minute to respond, but I can tell I’m not getting my way. I used to be able to get this man to do whatever I wanted, but then again, that’s when I was giving out road head like it was candy.

“No offense, Wren, but you can’t do everything by yourself. You can’t even drive the tractor for God’s sake,” he says. Stopping himself for a moment, he takes a beat and stares at the ground as he reassesses his response. “I’m not trying to be an ass, I know you think you can do everything by yourself, but you don’t have to.”

Being the stubborn person I am, I completely ignore his last sentence. “Oh, I can and will drive the damn tractor. You get into one little accident.” I say the last part under my breath, but I think he still heard it.

My answer seems to fire him up again because he quickly responds, “listen Wren, Chris asked me to help with chores and that’s what I’m going to do. There isn’t anything you can do about it.”

“Wanna bet?” I say defiantly and stomp my right foot for good measure. I hated when he underestimated me. Hell, I hate when any man underestimates me. “I’ll have everything done by the time you show up tomorrow,” I declare and turn to leave.

Before I can get in my car, I hear Blake get in the last word. “You’re a pain in the ass, Campbell.”

I let myself smile at his comment, but only when I’m kicking up dust down the dirt road and far away from his greedy eyes.

CHAPTER 8

It’s hard to forget how much I hate manual labor as I shovel what seems like the millionth pile of cow shit today. I’m almost done with most of tonight’s chores, and I might actually get them done before dipshit shows up. My method isn’t exactly sustainable, but maybe once he sees I’m fine without him, he’ll back off.

I feel a small tap on the back of my leg, and I turn to see one of the new baby calves trying to snack on my jeans. I lean over and pat the little guy on the head before setting down my shovel. He seems to like the pets because soon enough he’s rubbing his head up and down my leg.

“I think I’ll call you Mocha,” I say, admiring his dark brown coat with little white spots decorating his head and legs. It’s typically not a good idea to name cows, because sooner or later you’ll end up seeing your fluffy friend on a dinner plate. I learned that the hard way.

I give Mocha one last scratch before heading off to do my last chore of the night. I put my hands on my hips and stare down my own personal Mount Everest. The tractor.

I could easily run over to the house and ask my dad for help, but that would mean I really couldn’t do all of this by myself. I contemplate my options before the image of Blake’s smug face appears in my head and I know I need to prove him wrong.

I hop onto the tractor seat and try to remember everything my dad and brother have taught me over the years. I learned how to drive a tractor before I learned how to drive a car so I should be a pro, but unfortunately, it’s not like riding a bike. I get it started easily and take that as a good sign, but the hard part is getting the thing to go where I want it to.

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