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“You haven’t been here in two years, and you bring some random brand-new girlfriend?”
“Trying to even up the teams.”
“For the record, I don’t want you here.”
“For the record, I already knew that.”
“Mom insisted. And Dad wants what Mom wants.”
“I knew that, too.”
“I don’t need you making this any harder for her than it has to be.”
“Agreed.”
A long silence. What were they doing?
Then Hank said, “Anyway, you can head back to the city. She’s not up for a visit today.”
Jack looked over toward the house. Then back at Hank. “Is that her assessment or yours?”
“She’s in bed with the curtains drawn, so I expect we’re in agreement.”
“Where’s Dad?”
“He’s with her.”
When Jack spoke again, his voice was tight. “You could have let me know before I drove all the way out here.”
A pause. “I don’t have your number. Anymore.”
They may have said other things after that, but I confess—I missed them.
Because right then, out of nowhere, like something out of a horror film, a giant face appeared at my open car window.
A giant, white cow face.
It was close enough that I could feel its humid, otherworldly breath washing over my skin. I don’t want to say the cow snuck up on me, but let’s just say the field had been empty up to that point and then suddenly—Boom.
What were the cow’s intentions? We’ll never know.
But in one second, there it was.
And one second later, the face came through the open window and licked my forearm.
With its rough, green tongue.
Maybe I screamed.
Or maybe not.
It’s a blur.
I definitely made a noise of some kind, though—loud enough to get that cow, and apparently the whole herd that was right behind it, to gallop away a few steps, before seeming to run out of energy, slow to a stop, and turn to stare at me.
At this point, I, in the Range Rover, was surrounded by a whole herd of white, floppy-necked, sad-faced cows.
And I’m not going to pretend it wasn’t scary.
