"He's going to find out."
"He will," Sam agrees. No softening, no false comfort.
I look at the table. "I don't know how that's going to go."
"No one does," Sam says again. "And you won’t, until it’sdone." He picks up his coffee. "But she's at home right now, and you are here."
Jake slips during the broom demonstration and nearly takes Hector down with him. The table dissolves. Sam stands, drops a hand briefly on my shoulder, and goes to restore order.
I finish my coffee.
That's enough for today.
I think about what Sam said.
She's at home right now, and you are here.
He's right. As usual.
I drive back through town, thinking of Sam, Falon, and Tyler. Never a good combo. Falon had asked me to run a few errands and pick up a few things for Melodie and Rick. She’d been dealing with Milly and a very stubborn Muddy. He was worse than any donkey I’d ever come across when it came to his shots. It’s like he had a sixth sense or something. Any other time, he was as docile as a house cat.
As I pass the feed store, Jerry flags me down.
“Hey, I was hoping one of you boys would come into town today,” he says, a little out of breath. It was Monday. He knew we were all here in some form or fashion.
“Last week,” he starts, “old man Stan, out at the ridge.” I nodded, knowing Stan. He is a grouchy old man who lives alone with his 10 goats. He is as tough as nails and as bitter as black coffee. I’d known him before I left. “Had ordered twelve bales of hay.” I nod, knowing where this is going.
“I was wondering if there was a chance I could get you to drive the load out his way. You’d be doing me a favor, and I can’t get Joe to go out there. He refuses and won’t tell me why.” Jerry looks confused, and I let it go. I know exactly why he wouldn’t go out there. If memory serves me right, Stan often answers the door with a gun. He hatesvisitors, but I wasn’t going to tell Jerry that. That was up to Joe.
“Yeah. I have to stop by the post office and the stationery store, but after that I’ll be glad to.”
“Great. I’ll make sure to credit you the fifty-dollar delivery fee for taking it all the way out there.”
“Don’t worry about it. It’s not that big a deal.” I nod, then head into the Inn. It’s not too far from the stationery store, and I know Janet sells the cinnamon candles Melodie likes. Since she mentioned them a few weeks back, I thought I’d get her one and a country apple pie candle for Falon while I’m at it. She loved those candles, and I could have sworn that she was ready to have a funeral for the old one when it finally burned down to its last.
Next, I hit the last two errands on my list, then head back to Carls for the delivery.
Eleven bales later, I huff one last time and load the last of the twelve bales into the truck bed outside the feed store. Rowdy is panting in the back of the truck and drooling as if he’s never had water before. It was so hot. The temperature sat around a hundred degrees today, and I was quietly looking forward to February. I take my gloves off and wipe the sweat off my forehead when I see Kevin, and I have to remind myself that I told Mason I’d leave it for now.
He is coming out of the post office, envelope in hand. I didn’t much like him when we were kids, and the feeling hasn’t changed, especially since he tried to kiss Falon. He spots me about the same time I spot him, and he stops. We make eye contact, and he swallows hard, turns around, and walks the other way.
Kevin was all big and bad when he was with his friends, but get him one-on-one, and he crumbled, always had.
I know mail is on my list, but mail can wait until tomorrow.He’s not worth it. Not now. I finish tying down the load and head for the ridge.
Stan Ottman's property sits at the furthest edge of Everwood, past the ridge turnout, at the end of a road. Since the road is on private land, Stan maintains it himself, and by the state of it, he needs a little help. His gate is open when I pull up, which I take as a good sign.
But experience tells me it isn't.
"Finally." Stan appears from around the side of the barn before I've even shut off the engine. He's got a weathered face, work boots that have seen better decades, and an old hound at his feet. He’s lived longer than he should have, or at least that’s what he keeps telling people. "I thought my goats were going to die before you got here."
I got out of the truck, telling Rowdy to stay, and he did, begrudgingly. "Sorry about that. Jerry only asked me to deliver this today. Joe had other deliveries."
Stan squints at me like that's the worst excuse he's ever heard. "Should've known."
I start unloading bales. "Is there anything else you need while I'm out here?"
He looks at me with a scowl on his face. "Who are you?"
