Page 129 of Townshipped
He bends toward one of the brown spotted babies. His voice changes, taking on a tone of tenderness. “Aren’t you a cute little guy?”
The goat leaps a few little hops and then comes closer to Duke so he can pet him.
“Want to milk one of the does?” I offer, knowing full well he won’t.
“Nah, I’m good. I’ll just watch from over here with my new best friend.”
Duke drops down to sit cross-legged on the straw, looking like a giant in the twenty-by-twenty enclosure. He gently lifts the baby goat onto his lap. This isn’t his first rodeo with my birthing schedule. He knows how to handle the kids without upsetting the mama goats.
Duke scratches the baby under its chin while I coax another doe onto the stand, fill the feed trough with a few handfuls of their preferred snack of chopped corn with protein pellets, and then I move down her side to begin milking, washing her udder and arranging the bucket under her.
The sound of milk hitting the metal pan attracts the attention of a few of the kids. Duke looks at me and shakes his head.
“You are officially a farmer.”
“You just figured this out?”
“I knew it. Just watching you, it’s funny. I guess I’ll always picture you as one of us three—you, me, and Chris—running a little wild as teens. Who knew you’d end up a tech consultant, milking goats in your spare time.”
I chuckle. “When you put it that way, it’s nothing I planned on either.”
“The power of baby goat videos,” Duke muses. “So, what’s new on the farm besides baby goats?”
“Ty and Paisley and I FaceTimed Em the day before yesterday.”
“And?”
“I’m not sure. I need to do something. Em said she’s not feeling settled in Boston. Said she missed me and the kids. But that doesn’t mean she wants to uproot her whole life and come here.”
The baby goat hops off Duke’s lap. They never stay in one place for long.
“What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. Ty drew this picture of all of us, out here, with the goats. He drew a bunch of orange squiggles and said that was Em.
Duke chuckles, “That boy’s going to be a handful when he gets to be older. We’d better get him in tee ball or some sport soon.”
“He’s only three,” I remind Duke.
“Right. We’ll wait a year, then. Back to Em and this drawing.”
“Yeah. As crazy as it sounds, when I saw that drawing of us—the four of us—something clicked into place. She’s meant to be here. I don’t know how, but I’m not giving up until I get her back.”
“Good.” Duke nods his head once. “I didn’t like seeing you give up so easily. I understood it, but I didn’t like it.”
“We FaceTimed last night too.”
“You and the kids?”
“No. Just me and Em.”
Duke lets out a low whistle that startles a few of the baby goats. They leap around and make their way to their moms where they start to nurse even though they just ate.
I release the doe and give her a light slap before standing to herd the next one toward the milking table.
I think back to the call last night.
I waited until Ty and Paisley were sleeping. Then I grabbed the tablet and called Em. She answered in her sleep shirt and sweats, holding up a bowl of ice cream.
