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Harry turned his back to Rowan. When he tried to take another breath, his lungs had locked down. He tried to swallow, a feeble attempt to make room in his airway. Couldn’t do that either. He bent at the waist, hands clamped on spread knees.
Don’t throw up.
A soft voice broke through the chaos. “Come back.”
Harry turned. Rowan reached up a hand to him. He took it and sank down beside her. She was in complete control. Comforting the ewe, facing down her own apprehensions, soothing his fears. She was managing everything.
Shewaseverything.
The ewe seemed to lose interest in the birthing process, lying on her side, chewing hay. When her water broke and the birth didn’t progress further, Rowan began to fret.
With his heart in his throat, Harry let go of her hand. He set his teeth and moved behind the ewe, and gently grasped the lamb’s protruding legs. To the sheep and to himself, he whispered, over and over, “We got this.”
When the next contraction came, he gently pulled the lamb, and it was born in a rush. It was a tiny white thing with big triangular ears and knobby legs. Harry sat back hard on his ass, breath whooshing out of him, bewildered as the newborn. The hissing cacophony of rainfall gentled to a pattering rhythm.
Several minutes passed, and the ewe continued to chew hay, completely disregarding her baby. Rowan looked to Harry again, and frowned.
“What now?” Rowan said. The lamb quivered, covered in sticky fluids, its head weakly nudging around in the bedding hay.
“Maybe she doesn’t know what to do.” Harry scooted over to the baby and used his pinkie to swipe its mouth. He vigorously patted its damp little chest, then lifted it gently, moving it closer to its mother’s head. When the ewe finally sniffed the baby, instinct took over, and she stood to begin nibbling the wet out of its downy coat.
Harry and Rowan collapsed back in relief, sharing a tired high five.
Together, they cleared the paddock and laid fresh bedding hay. Then they stood side by side at the old sink, washing the mess from their hands. The adrenaline-fueled high of the last hour crashed down, leaving Harry feeling weak and scattered.
“You did it, Dr. Brady,” Rowan said. “You attended a patient.”
He looked behind them. The lamb was already on its feet, sturdily nudging at a teat. Its tiny tail whirled like a propeller as it nursed. “It’s a sheep, Rowan.”
“Sheis a living creature, and she needed your help. You came through for her.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.” Harry dried his hands on his sweater and went to the open doors of the barn to stare into the dark. The transient clouds of the storm blocked any light that would’ve come from the moon or stars.
Rowan moved in front of him, putting her body between his and the blackness. “It meant something to me.” Belligerence sharpened her tone.
He grunted. Nothing had changed. Managing to not lose his shit while a farm animal gave birth on the floor of a barn didn’t mean he was suited to practicing medicine. The only thing that had kept him grounded throughout had been Rowan’s presence. She gave him space to feel his pain, while freeing him from dwelling on it.
“I’ll call the vet in Linden in the morning so she can come check them both.” Rowan pulled the sliding door of the barn closed behind them and stepped away.
The dim yellow lantern outside illuminated a slick of mud. They made it three steps before Rowan’s feet slipped. She twisted, trying to use Harry for balance. Instead, she knocked his legs out from under him, and they both went down hard, backs flattening in the muck.
The impact knocked all the air from his lungs. Cold suffused his ass and the backs of his thighs, and icy mud oozed into his hair and against his scalp.
Beside him, Rowan whooped with laughter.
Rolling his head to the side, he watched her attempt to stand, only to slip and fall again. This time, her legs did a cartoonish scramble before sliding sideways underneath her. Another hoot of laughter followed.
“You’ve lost your fucking mind,” Harry said, looking back to the sky in a daze. The misty rain had transformed to wet snow. It fell toward his face in slow motion, dimly illuminated by the light on the barn.
Rowan crawled over to him and extended her hand to help him sit up.
With a playful snarl, he gathered a handful of mud and slapped it into her outstretched palm. She froze. Her eyes flashed white, going wide with surprise. A big, visible breath billowed from her open mouth. Harry squeezed her hand, making mud ooze out between their joined fingers with an audiblesquish.
Rowan’s retaliation was swift. With her free hand, she flung a lump of mud straight at his chest, and it hit with a dull splat. He growled and sat up fast, bearing her backward, pinning her to the ground. Cackling with laughter, she wriggled under him and tried to stuff a handful of mud down the back of his jeans. Harry snatched her wrist before she could.
Her face was flecked and splattered with black mud. A wet streak of it crossed her chin and jaw. She was lit up like a bonfire in the darkness, breathing hard and shimmering up at him with a wide-mouthed smile.
They both panted with mirth and exertion. Their hazy exhalations dispersed together in the air between them, and time slowed.
