“Still a bit small,” Bodhi said, chewing on a piece of hay while he watched Buttercup.
“I’m working on it,” Rose said.
They were standing at the fence in the back field, watching the cows graze. Bodhi had been on the farm for a couple of weeks, but Rose had turned down his offers to help with Buttercup. The calf felt like her responsibility, even though she couldn’t explain why. Sometimes when Rose was trying to bottle-feed her, Bodhi would open his mouth like he was going to say something, then close it real fast like he’d changed his mind. But Rose knew the calf wasn’t doing well. She saw it in the way the animal refused to run, and in her eyes and mouth, both of which were drier than they should have been. She saw it in Buttercup’s lethargy, in the way she watched listlessly as the other calves romped around the field.
Rose was being stubborn and she knew it, but the farm was the one place where she felt like the ground was solid under her feet. She may not know what to do about her dad, may not have any idea what her future held, but she could manage the farm. Okay, she needed help with the day-to-day stuff, but she knew what she was doing, and part of her was clinging to that knowledge with everything she had, because if she didn’t know what she was doing here, what else was there for her?
She looked at Bodhi in her peripheral vision, surprised to realize they hadn’t spoken for the past few minutes. Somewhere along the way, their silences had gotten less uncomfortable, probably because she was getting used to their routine, which was leisurely compared to what she’d been dealing with on her own. Bodhi took care of the animals in the morning, allowing her two glorious extra hours of sleep. She joined him once the sun was up, and they cleaned out the barn before breakfast. After that, Bodhi spent the morning and early afternoon seeing to maintenance on the fences, irrigation systems, and outbuildings while Rose took care of the kitchen garden, did any paperwork that was required to keep the farm running, and checked on her dad. She still ate lunch alone, although she’d gotten used to bumping into Bodhi in the kitchen while they made something to eat in the middle of the day. After lunch, Rose walked over to the Breiners’ farm to say hello or went swimming. Sometimes she’d be lying on the bank of the pond, the sun warming her face, when she would sit up, suddenly sure there was something she should be doing, some chore on the farm that must need tending. But then she’d remember: Bodhi was there. He had everything under control, and she alternated between being relieved and annoyed that she was coming to rely on him.
She didn’t know what he did in the afternoons. She imagined him up in the hayloft, the smell of burned wood and hay scenting the air as he read one of the books she saw him carrying around. That had surprised her, that he liked to read. She wasn’t sure why. She knew that farming and intelligence weren’t mutually exclusive. But he hadn’t seemed the type, and the first time she’d seen him reading at the kitchen table, she’d felt almost embarrassed, like she’d caught him in the middle of something personal.
“Could do with some rain,” Bodhi said next to her, shaking her from her thoughts.
She nodded. “Could.”
They stood there a few more minutes before she heard the sound of gravel crunching behind them. She turned to see Marty approaching, looking half her age in jeans and a T-shirt, her hair loose around her shoulders.
“Hey!” She smiled as she kissed Rose on the cheek. “How’s my favorite niece?”
Rose laughed. “I’d be flattered if I wasn’t your only niece.”
Marty waved away her comment. “Details!” She looked at Bodhi. “How’s it going, Bodhi?”
He nodded. “Getting the lay of the land.”
“Glad to hear it,” Marty said. Her gaze scanned the field and rested on Buttercup. “Is that the little calf you birthed in the spring?”
Rose nodded.
“Is she sick?” Marty asked. “She looks small.”
“She’s not feeding as well as I’d like,” Rose said. “But I’m working on it.”
“Did you tell your dad?” Marty asked.
“Not yet.”
Marty’s expression grew thoughtful. “You might need to get Doc Russell in here.”
Rose swallowed the lump in her throat. “I will if she doesn’t get better. I’m going to give it another week.”
“Don’t wait too long,” Marty said.
Rose nodded. “What are you doing here?” she asked, anxious to change the subject.
“I had to journey to civilization to pick up a few things.”
Bodhi looked confused. “Civilization?”
“Poughkeepsie,” Rose explained. “And honestly, I’m surprised she even counts that as civilization. She’s lowered the bar since she first came back from Thailand.”
Marty grinned. “Desperate times call for desperate measures. Poughkeepsie is as close to civilization as I’m going to get without going into the city.” She looked at Rose. “I stopped at that market you like and picked up a few things. Want to come see?”
“Definitely,” Rose said. “Did you get those chocolate-covered cherries? Lexie’s staying tonight. She loves those.”
Marty draped a slender arm across Rose’s shoulders. “Only one way to find out.”
Marty lifted one hand in the air as they turned to the house. “Bye, Bodhi.”
“See you, Marty.”
“So?” Marty asked Rose as they stepped into the house. “How’s it going?”
“With Bodhi?” Rose asked.
“Yes, with Bodhi.” Her aunt laughed. “Is he working out okay?”
Rose bit her lip. “It’s a big help, having him here.”
“Why do you make that sound like a bad thing?” Marty asked.
Rose followed Marty into the kitchen. “I don’t know. I don’t mean to.”
She leaned against the counter while Marty started taking things out of the paper bags lined up there. She handed Rose two plastic containers of chocolate-covered cherries on her way to the fridge.
“Thank you!” Rose said. “I’ll hide one of these before Lexie gets here.”
But Marty was frozen in front of the fridge.
“What’s wrong?” Rose asked.
Marty looked at her. “I should be asking you that question. There’s no food in here. What on earth are you guys eating?”
“What?” Rose walked to the fridge and stood next to her aunt. “There’s food! Tons of food!”
Marty shut the door of the fridge and crossed her arms over her chest. “Premade casseroles, orange juice, and condiments don’t count as food.”
“I need to go to the store, that’s all. I went last week. I just haven’t had a chance to go back.” Rose crossed to the paper bags and removed a container of goat cheese and a package of French bread.
Marty spoke quietly behind her. “Tell me you’ve been making meals for him, Rose.”
Rose tried to laugh to lighten the mood. “I don’t need to cook for him! He’s an adult. He makes his own food, and I make mine. It’s working out fine.”
Marty rubbed her forehead like she had a sudden headache. “It’s not fine, Rose. It’s part of the deal that we make him feel at home here. That includes making meals. You know as well as I do that farming is hard work. You can’t expect him to live on casseroles cooked four months ago, not with all the labor he’s doing here.”
“He can make something for himself if he’s still hungry,” Rose said, but she hated herself even as she said it. Hated how careless and selfish she sounded. Bodhi was lightening her load so she could rest and swim, and she hadn’t even made him a meal.
“You know how to cook,” Marty said softly. “You even like cooking.”
“Not anymore,” Rose muttered before she could stop herself.
Silence filled the kitchen in the moment before Marty spoke again. “I know it’s something you did with your mom. Cooking, baking . . . You spent a lot of your time together in here. I understand how it might be hard for you to do it without her.”
Rose felt tears sting her eyes and had to resist the urge to cover her ears. She didn’t want to talk about this with Marty. She was okay as long as she didn’t think about it too hard. As long as she didn’t remember. Because remembering—the sound of her mother’s voice, the feel of her mother’s hand on hers when she was teaching Rose to knead bread dough, the smell of her peach pie in the oven—that just hurt too much.
Rose crossed her arms and leaned against the counter. “I’m fine. I’m just busy.”
Marty’s eyes flashed. “That may be true, but so is Bodhi. And you will make him feel at home here. Have you even thought how it must be for him? Far from home without a single friend? Working all day and then heating up old casseroles in the microwave? You probably make him eat alone, too.”
Rose felt her cheeks grow hot.
“Oh, Rose . . .” Disappointment and sadness mingled in her aunt’s voice.
Rose couldn’t stand it. “Stop feeling bad for me! I’m fine. Bodhi is fine. It’s not like he’s complaining.”
“Well, I am. I’m complaining, okay? And if your mother were here, she’d be complaining, too. She would never allow you to be this inhospitable. You know it’s true. Bodhi is here to take care of the farm. You are to make things easier for him while he does.” Marty’s voice had turned steely, and Rose knew there was no point arguing. “Are we clear?”
“As a bell,” Rose muttered.
“Good.” She hesitated, then walked over to Rose and pulled her into an embrace. “I love you, honey. I know you’re hurting. I’m hurting, too. But when I look at you, I see her, and suddenly everything’s okay.” She kissed the top of Rose’s head. “I have to go, but I’ll check in on you soon. Enjoy your sleepover with Lexie.”
Rose listened to Marty’s footsteps recede down the hall. She didn’t start crying until after she heard the screen door slam, and she stood there for a minute, swiping at the hot tears on her cheeks, remembering Marty’s words.
But when I look at you, I see her, and suddenly everything’s okay.
If only it were that simple.