Page 69 of Things I Read About
“Just have to handle the food for all of the animals in the morning and evening. Be here in case something goes wrong and I need to call in the vet. It’s not too bad.”
The dogs keep coming and sniffing Nate, eyeing him. He is calm, unflappable even, but he doesn’t pet their heads or coo over them like an animal lover would. He watches Ron and Ringo wrestle.
“Why are the guard dogs in the garage?”
I chuckle. “Well, Sam and Sadie would prefer the dogs be inside. Shep says no. So, they compromised on the garage overnight.”
As if on cue, Nate gets his butt thoroughly sniffed.
“Hermoine really likes you.”
He looks down at her.
“They’re all named after epic characters, Harry Potter, Stories of Loya, Avengers… the cow is Tony Stark.” I smile at him.
He doesn’t smile back. Or look at me. “The Rottweilers stay out from now on. At night too. If someone gets anywhere near the house they will go nuts, it’s what they are bred for.”
“Oh.” I shift my weight, uncomfortable with the reminder as to what Nate is doing here and why he is so serious. “All right. Well, I better start on their breakfasts.” I start walking toward the first gate.
“Aren’t you taking the gator?” Nate asks, pointing at the gleaming green tricked-out four-wheeler.
“I normally just walk.” Because that thing makes me nervous. And it’s brand new.
“No. Take the gator. And don’t go past the stables or I won’t have eyes on you.”
I frown. “You’re not coming with me?”
He lifts the iPad. “I need to familiarize myself with the system as quickly as possible, especially the perimeter fences.” Finally, he locks eyes with me. “Not past the stables, Sally.”
“Okay.” I reluctantly make my way to the Gator. Once I reach it, I climb in then hesitate.
Nate, who has made his way back to the garage door leading into the house, stops. “Sally? You can drive, right?”
“What? Yes, of course.” I turn the key to start it. I inhale.
Nate is suddenly beside me, scowling yet again. “What is it, then?”
“I just don’t like it. It’s all open, exposed. And small, like it could tip over on all the bumps out there. Then, I’ll be the one to wreck Shep’s new toy.”
He says the words slowly. “Exposed?”
“You know, there are no walls, no security, like a motorcycle.”
Crap.Crap, crap, crap!
I don’t look up. If I did, I’m sure I’d find his nostrils flared and his eyes pinched.
“You’re scared of motorcycles?” he demands. “What else? What else are you afraid of?”
“It would probably be quicker to list things I’m not afraid of.”
He sighs. “Slide over.” He climbs in, taking up almost the whole little cab space, which means I am even closer to the edge, almost certain to fall out. But his compassion seems to have run out at the prospect of driving. He doesn’t look at me or say a word as we go.
I don’t ask him to scoot over or for him to hold onto me, though that’s what I want most.
I tell him all I know about the homestead as we putter around from stop to stop. I rattle off the animals’ names and what I can remember about them from all Sadie’s told me.
But Nate only drives, stops, and fiddles on the iPad. Not even grunts of acknowledgement, so I give up.
