Eric, Jody Kaye [well read books TXT] 📗

“Do you have your shoes on?” Cris asks the most adorable little boy I’ve seen in my life.

Playing in the dirt, Mateo holds his sneakers up in the air, wiggling them about. “Tengo que hacer pipí.”

“Well, go inside and pee so we can get a move on. Those horses aren’t feeding themselves, kiddo.”

He scrambles up. Short, swift legs carry the toddler back into the apartment. A minute later he reappears, asking in Spanish for Cris to snap the button on his pants. Cris pulls the soft shirt with the yellow dog on it. Mateo pats his tubby belly and darts toward the farmyard. Cris chases his son, catching him from behind and tossing the little boy onto his shoulders. 

“It’s done,” I say, making a spectacle with a wild motion to the bottle in my hand. “I was about to feed the lamb.”

“Miss Cavanaugh, you are up early. Did you ride Violette yet?”

“No. I wanted to say thank you for, well, not narcing on us last night. I know we were loud and kept you up. I thought it would be…”

“That was nice of you. I appreciate it. But don’t worry. I was eighteen about eight years ago and am not too long in the tooth yet to have forgotten the months surrounding my high school graduation. Plus, after being a closet country fan living in LA for the better part of six years, I appreciate your taste in music.”

“Cordero.” Mateo wiggles on his shoulders and Cris sets him down.

“He likes to help out. I won’t let him into the horse stalls yet. He watches from an upturned bucket. Though, after all the diapers I changed, I’m looking forward to the day Mateo has to muck a stable. Can we take the bottle? Feeding the lamb is his favorite job.”

I hand it to the little boy.  His chubby hands hold the milk close to his body like it’s a treasure.

“Can I ask you a question?” I bite my glossy lips. The rest of my face is untouched by makeup. I’ve gotten a light tan since the summer began. It’s highlighted a smattering of freckles across the bridge of my nose. Momma tells me it makes the vivid green eyes we all inherited from my Daddy startling and bright against the deep rich color of my brown hair.

I twist the long fresh-washed curls up off of my neck into a bun, securing it to stay put without a tie or clip. Normally, I’d wear a hat to keep the sun out of my face. Normally, I wouldn’t care that Momma tells me my eyes are my best feature. Normally, I’d fail to notice how Cris shook himself when his stare lingered. 

Cris pulls down his hat and grips his chin between his thumb and index finger. “It’s been a long time since I’ve grown a beard, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

“Um, I like it? The stubble. Way better than my brothers’ facial hair.”

“Relax, Miss Cavanaugh.” He grins. “It’s a port-wine birthmark. I was born with it. It covers this side of my face, neck, and parts of my upper torso. About the time I realized the way people stared at me should be bothersome, I was wrapped up being a boy; wiping my nose with the back of my palm, playing in the dirt, and sweating up a stink in the blistering Texas sun near San Antonio. After a while, I accepted anyone’s first reaction is tense.”

“And that changed?”

“When I met my wife, Liz. I knew I wanted to be the one for her. But I was shy around girls and hid behind a baseball cap. The first time she ran her fingers through my hair and trailed them across only the left side of my face, I realized what I looked like didn’t matter to her.”

Cris is watching me intently. My nipples pebble and I’m glad he’s unaware. Or is he? I almost feel like it’s me touching him, making him self-conscious over his appearance. What’s more, my daddy is his boss and I’m considerably younger than Cris.

“So I went to shave this morning.” Cris continues, miming the actions. “Had my razor poised in the mirror. Face full of foam. Red-brown showed above the layer of cream, near my forehead, eye, and cheekbone. It was a gruesome sundae, like those dipped cones when the ice cream melts from under the candy coating.” He pauses, showing me he’s comfortable with his appearance. “And I thought two things. One I haven’t grown a beard. New life, new look…and also Mateo has never been to DQ for a treat before.”

“There’s a Dairy Queen in town.” My words rush out. The whole time Cris has been talking, I’ve been trying to imagine his handsome face covered. The redness doesn’t bother me. I’d only wanted to understand what caused it.

“Maybe you can give me directions?” 

“I can show you?” Stupid. Stupid Daveigh. He’s a widower, not a teenage boy. This man isn’t asking for a date.

“Great...Ross mentioned you want to be a veterinarian. You have a lot of schooling ahead of you.”

“Don’t tell anyone I kind of planned it that way,” I confide in a total stranger. “If I stay in school past seven years when I graduate, my inheritance will pay my student loans.”

“A kid from this family with student loans?” Cris looks from the apartments to the stable and then past the barn to the pasture land. Kingsbrier has a few rolls in the landscape, but this land is still East Texas flat. The rooftop of the main house in the distance is visible if you squint.

“We’re cut off. The only money the five of us have to our names right now is what we make. My daddy is a fair man. I’ll get paid this summer to keep up my chores. Can you imagine paying for five kids to go to college at once? That’d send any family to the poor house. It’s why we have to figure it out on our own, not squander what the last generation made of Kingsbrier.”

“Awfully mature sentiment for someone so young, or are you repeating what’s been told to you?”

“I get tired of people underestimating me, Mr. Sanchez. I am who I was raised to be. Everyone is so sure Brier is the cunning one, Colton is the fighter, Adam protects us, and Eric has wisdom beyond his years. I’m just gullible and trusting Daveigh. No one ever figures maybe some of that other stuff has rubbed off on me.”

“I’m sure you’re capable of holding your own out in the big wide world. Though, I’m still glad to have been of service last night.” I’m not a fan of his condensing tone. Fortunately, it turns friendly. “You wanna stay and talk me through the dailies around here? I get up each day intending to earn my keep, but with Cavanaugh’s kids around, I haven’t done much other than move in and toss some oats to the horses late in the afternoon.”

He doesn’t call us Kingsbrier.

“My daddy didn’t go over the list with you?”

“Something tells me you know it better than he does. Besides, I could use adult company.”

His little boy is feeding Colton’s lamb. The milk bottle is almost empty, but it’s still heavy and he’s having a hard time holding it up. A good amount dribbles on the ground, but the lamb has had his fair share.

“Better watch out or he’ll put you out of a job, too,” I remark.

“Ross has plans once you are gone. There will be plenty of chores to go around.”

“Like what? I know he won’t get into cattle. It’s too volatile. Rodger Newhouse sold him a tract of land, at least a dozen years ago, to build a new housing development on. The entire property Drew’s grandaddy had filled with steer when my momma was a girl.”

“It’s in the planning stages. Ross has sworn me to secrecy.” Cris is tight-lipped.

“What did you do before this?” I know so little about the person I’m trusting to tend the farm animals I hold dear. I’ll miss them as much as the ones who sleep in the rooms surrounding mine.

“I was a vet tech with an animal hospital in Southern California. Horses, big dogs, house pets. We did some rehab and worked with a local zoo.” He notices my face light up. 

“Feeling better that we may have something in common? Don’t worry. I’ll keep Violette safe.” He smiles and clears his throat. “That’s, uh, how I met my wife. She was a tech too. Loved snakes, not my thing.” Cris holds up his palms, indicating he’d rather not touch slithering reptiles.

“Momma told me she passed. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Yeah, in a car accident when Mateo was about six months old.”

“How old is he now?”

“With his independent streak? Going on twenty-five,” Cris jokes, watching his son pull handfuls of chicken feed out of a sack and scatter it to the birds. “He just turned two. Your mother helped me get him into the church nursery school. Watching him now, I think he’ll go kicking and screaming.”

“He does seem to be in his element. He’ll come around once he’s there every day,” I reassure the single dad. “So what do you want to know?”

“Everything.”

“Then let’s get started.”

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14

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I tuck my back against the stable where two exterior walls create a corner. The lamb has curled at my side like a puppy. Its head rests on my outstretched leg while enjoying having its velvety ears scratched. The silence of the barnyard is only broken by the occasional chuffing of a horse or a cackle of a hen. Otherwise the solace is welcome. I stroke between the lamb’s eyes and down the bridge of its nose. The animal sighs. It longs for the closeness of its mother.

The difference between me and the sheep is attitude. I’m no good at behaving or following the crowd, which has me concerned about this whole joining the Navy thing. What happens when I step a foot out of line? Something I have a reputation for doing when a red flag waves in my face.

Maybe I’m a bull in sheep’s clothing?

My mother has always been there when I needed her. The more I acted out, the more effort she made to sit with me, not asking questions, not demanding explanations. She hardly had an hour left in the day to split between five kids, but she still made it a priority, taking from the trough she should have used to rejuvenate.

Maybe those moments with Momma did put new life into the woman. This comfortable and soundless time with the lamb does that for me. Here I’m not angry. I don’t keep up with older siblings, or try to jockey for a position with greater attention in the pack. I’m just me.

And this is the last time I’ll find this kind of peace. The upcoming weeks are a proving ground. I’m confident enough in my abilities to make it through basic training. Not that it’ll be a breeze, but I have the stamina. I’ve been part of a group that’s worked as a team. Maybe a team of miscreants, but Rose insisted we learn respect. Or feign it.

Not that I liked it. None of us did.

I’ve held it together whenever I’ve thought about leaving Kingsbrier. The Navy doesn’t scare me. It’s what I want. Failing scares me. Not being here for my family does too.

I wipe my nose on the back of my hand, snuffing. I refuse to crack. But watching the lamb yawn, full of the milk I’ve