Chapter Three

THE NEXT DAY I washed and dried the lions as Charity and “Allan” dipped hippos into the chocolate pudding watering hole. The elephants were in the dish drainer. My beast of a Momma tormented folks at the medical clinic, Dad and Kenny were at work at the lumber yard—Charity had joined me to play African jungle with Little Man. Shit, I’m supposed to call him Allan.

The day was muggy for being only June. The only cool spot was directly in front of a dusty oscillating fan in the kitchen or standing in front of the refrigerator with the door open. Momma didn’t believe in air conditioning. She heard that people who were comfortable on a regular basis had a higher incidence of cancer.

I did my best to create a fun African scene. Charity had seemed mad at me the night before. I wanted her to have a good time with me and Little Man. I mean Allan. I’d placed every house plant and potted outdoor plant my momma owned in the kitchen. Stuffed animals flanked a homemade jungle. I’d lined up all Momma’s cake pans including her sacred, giant cinnamon roll pan and filled them with chocolate pudding representing mud, butterscotch pudding representing the dry grassy plain, and vanilla pudding just because it tasted good. I’d wanted to dress in a loincloth, but I figured with my luck the church choir and Charity’s minister dad would happen by and I’d have given them more ammunition to call me depraved.

I nuzzled next to Charity’s ear.

Charity shrugged me off. “Raine, it’s too hot.”

Momma had given me strict orders: Little Man should not and would not witness any messing around. She didn’t mention Charity specifically, but her meaning was clear. Keep my lust in my heart. Still, I had hopes for nap time and hadn’t expected Charity to put me off. It wasn’t like Little Man’s head would explode if he witnessed us kissing. I don’t think Little Man thought much about it. He liked to kiss everybody: Momma, Dad, all the dogs.

I tried a different approach. I stood behind Charity with my arms laced around her waist.

“Did you write them and tell them when you’re coming?” Charity said as she turned to face me.

She looked hot, but her words made me shiver. I played dumb. “Who, where?”

Charity ducked out of my embrace. Her face got red and she put her hands on her wonderful hips. “You didn’t contact the college yet?”

I knew darn well what she meant. I had received an acceptance letter for a college with a pre-veterinary science program and needed to decide once and for all on an entrance term—fall or spring or not at all. They had made it clear they would not defer my enrollment again. I’d put them off twice already: once when I lost my scholarship to go there because my own momma had told the holier-than-thou scholarship benefactor, McGerber, and Pastor Grind I was queer. I postponed once again, when I decided to stay home and care for my nephew, after my sister died and my momma went off to nursing school. A year had passed, and both the vet school and Charity were getting impatient.

“Can’t we just keep playing Africa?” I whined and lowered my head, hoping my big brown cow eyes would charm her into letting the topic drop. I moved closer. I wanted to bury my face in the creamy pink skin of her neck. I wanted to touch and smell her auburn hair. “I’ll show you my zebra if you show me yours.” I don’t even know what I meant. Bless her heart, Charity kissed me quickly on the lips but frowned at me.

“Show me your zebra,” Little Man said.

“What difference does it make if I go this year or next? I’m doing the work I like with Twitch already without my degree, and we’re going to come back to Bend anyway. You’re doing your art. What difference does it make that I haven’t left yet? We’re going to end up back here anyway.”

Silence.

Why isn’t she saying anything?

“Charity, that’s the plan, right?”

Charity didn’t answer. She turned away from me, took a kitchen towel from the counter, and dried her hands.

I looked at Charity standing in my kitchen and goose bumps pattered up and down my arms and my nipples got scared hard. I saw her anew. Charity, unattainable again, older than me, more educated than me, more experienced than me. She’d already finished college. She’d had lovers before. What made me think our getting together could last? I may have made good grades in school, but I was pretty damn stupid.

“Raine, I want Grandpa in Africa.” Little Man licked his fingers, but still had pudding up to his elbows. Little Man, Little Man, my drug. He saved me from feeling all the pain the world willingly heaped in my direction. I turned from staring at Charity.

“Kenny and your grandpa will love seeing your plastic animals in pudding. Your grandma, however, will blow a gasket.”

“What’s a gasket?” he asked.

“It’s your grandma’s biggest organ.” My momma had no patience for messes—especially mine. She only tolerated messes she’d made herself, but she denied ever having made any.

“You know what I wish? I wish your mommy, Becky, could see you play with your plastic animals. She’d be so proud of you.” I invoked the name of my dead sister like a shield against the world and today even against Charity. Who could possibly harangue me about anything when they thought about my poor sister? The invocation may have safeguarded me from questions from Charity, but it opened the door for other messy questions from Little Man. Shit, I mean Allan.

“Where’s she at?” Allan galloped giraffes through the pudding and into the soapy water in the sink.

I looked at Charity again. She faced me with a sad smile. She knew because I’d told her often enough I hated this part of taking care of my nephew. There was no place to get away from the memories of my sister killing herself. I hated telling Li—I’m supposed to call him Allan—anything about his mommy’s death.

“Your mommy was an angel from God. She was the most beautiful and smartest girl who ever lived in Bend, Minnesota.” Saying those words would have gagged me before Becky died, but now they were just part of the scripted lie I told him every time he asked about her.

“Your daddy couldn’t help but fall in love with her, marry her, and have a baby.” I fudged the order of things when I told him the story. The truth is Becky and Kenny made a baby before they got married and before either of them graduated high school. “That baby, what’s his name?”

“Little Man,” he giggled.

“You’re right. Your mommy loved you so much, she couldn’t wait to go to heaven to tell Jesus thank you.” I choked back tears every time I told this story.

The lie wasn’t my idea. Pastor Allister Grind had advised Momma to tell the story to the boy. Momma never defied Allister Grind. He’d been Momma’s love as a teen and Momma trusted anyone she thought had the inside track with God. I didn’t trust Pastor Grind and I didn’t honor all things he said because he hated queers and I was queer and secretly dating his queer daughter, Charity. However, on the topic of what to tell my nephew about the death of his momma, I followed his advice. No way I wanted to be the one to tell him how his momma really died.

He slipped off the kitchen chair, bent over stretching his arms out in front of him, and let the dogs finish cleaning the pudding off his hands and face.

After his canine tongue lashing, he pushed his overgrown bangs out of his eyes. “I’m taking the tractor to heaven.” He made vroom vroom noises as he pulled trucks and cars out of his toy box looking for his green John Deere tractor Grandpa had given him.

My heart shattered every time the little fart said something sweet. His grief seemed more important than the ways Momma, Dad, Kenny, and I missed Becky. So what if my feet were nailed to the floor and I hadn’t left yet? Allan had been robbed of a mother and was too young to have any memories of his own. It was my job to seed his mind with stories of Becky and fertilize the soil with the necessary embellishments. Some of the stories I planted happened and others should’ve happened or would’ve happened if Becky had lived and gotten well.

As long as I had Allan and Kenny with me at the farm, by God I was going to do everything in my power to give Allan the best childhood and the best memory of a mom who loved him. It was the least I could do, and it was the most I could do now Becky had died, and I failed to save her.

Charity and I began cleaning the kitchen.

Silence.

“I know you came to Bend against your will. You came here to protect Kelly from being fired and maybe prosecuted for being your lover at the same time she taught you art.” I knew the risk of bringing up these old, but sensitive facts about the circumstances of Charity moving back to Bend.

Kelly had been an adjunct professor at Charity’s college. The two became lovers. When they were discovered, Charity convinced the school it was better to tell her dad she’d be finishing her last few credits by correspondence rather than telling him a professor had been dating his daughter. Charity avoided being outed, the school dodged being disgraced or sued, and Kelly ducked prosecution.

Charity kept scrubbing the plastic animals.

I went on with my speech. “You didn’t plan on meeting me and us getting together.”

It would have been a fine time for Charity to say she wouldn’t change a thing and meeting me was the best thing that ever happened to her. Charity didn’t speak. She moved the animals to the rinse water.

What I couldn’t bring myself to say is she had left Kelly for me. She had delayed art school in St. Paul. Sure, she completed some commissioned artwork in Bend and fattened her portfolio, but her dream had always been full-time art school in the city. Commuting back and forth to St. Paul like she’d been doing hadn’t been her first choice, and it showed. I wished I could tell her I understood why her patience waned, but I didn’t. I wanted her to wait for me and my own timing.

I put the stuffed animals and plants away, washed the pans, looked high and low for any remnants of pudding. After I dried my hands, I took Little Man into my arms. I twirled him in the air and kissed his face and head. Little Man, Allan, the big rock that changed the course of my stream, my life. I didn’t have the drive to be anywhere else.

I had barely finished removing the remnants of pretend Africa from the creases and crevasses of the kitchen when I heard a vehicle barrel up the drive and park next to my truck.

Ben “Twitch” Twitchell was my Dad’s best friend, current boss and my veterinarian mentor, boss, and friend. When Becky got sick, I had learned Twitch was our biological father. He owned the sperm that scrambled my momma’s eggs. Momma and Twitch had gotten together briefly when Momma first moved to Bend before she met and fell in love with my dad. I bet Momma doesn’t have that little tidbit in her notebook of sins.

Twitch entered the kitchen jabbering, gesturing, and searching our refrigerator for a cold beer, which he would not find because Momma hid them from my dad anytime he brought some beer in the house. At that moment a six-pack of Grain Belt rested in the colored rock of the fish tank confusing four goldfish and a guppy.

“Don’t say no! You’re going to want to say no, but I need you to say yes.” Twitch yapped at me. “What’s happening here?”

“Hey, Twitch, we just finished playing Africa with Little Man if you have to know,” I said. “What do you want? It’s my day off.”

“Africa? Good. Say, I’ve got a little safari for you. Besides, if you aren’t going to go to vet school you might as well play one at home. Hello, Charity.” He bowed.

“Hey.” Charity smiled at Twitch without enthusiasm. She probably thought if he weren’t letting me work with him I would get my butt moving out of town.

“No wonder you’re not married. You’re a horrible salesman, Twitch,” I said.

“Horrible salesman,” Little Man repeated.

I had Little Man on my hip and the dogs were at my side, whipping my legs with their tails. I put Little Man—Allan—down on the kitchen floor. He ran to Twitch.

Twitch picked up the boy and swung him in the air nearly taking out the ceiling fan.

“Hello, big boy, how’re you doing? Anybody give you a real name yet?”

He put the boy back on his feet. Little Man stumbled around dizzy.

“Last night Kenny made a declaration that Little Man is from this day forward to be known as Allan. So, his name is Allan. I just don’t like using it.”

“Hmm. You’re stubborn just like your parents.” Twitch blushed after he said it.

Allan looked over at me and mimicked Twitch, “You’re stubborn.”

Twitch laughed. “I could listen to this parrot all day, but there’s work to do.” He rubbed his hands together. “You’re right, Lorraine. I’m not good at sales, but I could become good at begging if needed. I just want you to know I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I really didn’t need you to promise me you will.”

“Well, it looks like you two have plans,” Charity said and headed for the door.

“Wait, I thought we were going to spend the day with Allan, and then go out by ourselves later,” I said.

“It looks like Twitch needs you for something,” Charity said. “I’m going home or maybe back to St. Paul.”

Charity may have been smiling, but I saw the sadness in her eyes. Yet the easy way Charity let go of our plans bothered me. That discussion would need to happen privately another time. I knew Twitch still cringed at talk about me being queer.

“I’ll call you later.” I said the words to a slamming screen door. I turned to Twitch. “Okay, I’ll do it as long as I am done by supper.” I watched Charity speed out of our yard. She’d left without kissing me. I couldn’t remember that ever happening since we got back together.

“You’re still seeing that girl?” Twitch asked. “I thought she moved away.”

“Yes, I’m still seeing Charity.” I think Twitch enjoyed teasing me about stuff as much as I enjoyed razzing him. “Although, I haven’t seen her much lately. I had planned to spend the night at her place tonight. So just tell me what you need me to do so I can get it over with.”

“I need you to go over to McGerber’s farm…” Twitch started.

“No way in hell!” I finished.

I turned away from Twitch and walked out onto the front porch letting the screen door slam behind me. The dust Charity had stirred up hung in the air. Damn it. Why didn’t I ask him the specifics before Charity left? If I’d known he wanted me to go to McGerber’s place, I would have said no and kept my plans with Charity.

Twitch had scooped up Little Man and followed me outside. The dogs raced out on his heels and chased after a squirrel in the yard.

The nerve of the man. Twitch of all people knew better than to ask me to ever step foot on J.C. McGerber’s farm. I wanted absolutely nothing to do with J.C. McGerber. I paced, kicked at the dirt, and swore under my breath.

“If you’re done with the Irish dancing, I’ll tell you what I need you to do.”

I flashed a look at him I hoped would register on a Geiger counter.

“Look Lorraine, the calf is already lost. If somebody who knows what they’re doing doesn’t get over there the cow is going to die too.” He put a hand over one of Little Man’s ears. “God damn it, Lorraine. That’s why I asked you to promise me.”

“God damp it!” Allan said.

“You do it.” I went back into the house. Suddenly, being outside with him felt like the fires of hell. I let the screen door slam.

Twitch followed me into the house. “I would if I could, but I can’t. McGerber won’t let me on the place.”

“Why not?”

Twitch glanced at Allan and whispered to me, “There’s some unkind gossip making the rounds about some married ladies in town and a certain sensitive bachelor.”

“Christ,” I said as I took the boy out of Twitch’s arms and put him down on the floor with a cookie.

“Christ,” Allan said as he slapped his thigh with one hand and then took a bite of cookie. Never missing an opportunity for breaking bread with the messy toddler, the dogs had hightailed it back in the house and sat at Allan’s feet watching for crumbs and ready to lick him clean.

I had to laugh. My sensitive bachelor, biological father had leanings toward affairs with married women. No surprise to me.

“Don’t laugh. Those ladies had their reputations soiled by malicious busybodies.” He shook his finger at me.

“What about your reputation?”

Twitch looked at me and rolled his eyes. “Hell! My reputation’s shot already. Anyway, McGerber’s on his high horse and won’t let me on the place, but he has a contract with my vet service and as long as the work gets done, he still has to pay me.” He kept looking at me waiting for me to say I’d do it for him.

When I didn’t say anything, he tried again.

“Sorry, but since you don’t have a date, you have plenty of time to see McGerber’s cow.”

“Thanks for your support, Twitch.” My dating and disappointments didn’t seem to count to Twitch or anybody else. I didn’t want to deliver a calf and save a cow—well, I did, but I also wanted to brood. I had good reason: Charity broke our date and planned to leave town again. What does it mean? I worried she’d lost interest in the little town of Bend and her late-blooming-uneducated-girlfriend. Me. I still hoped she’d stay patient. Momma had finished her classes and began her clinicals at Bend’s new medical clinic. I had completed two biology classes, anatomy, physiology, and plowed halfway through chemistry. Allan could start the new pre-school program for three to five-year-olds. I just needed a little more time to… I wasn’t sure. I just needed a little more time and to leave on my own terms.

So, even though I didn’t want to go to McGerber’s farm, I said I would. The work would be a good distraction so I didn’t have to think about losing Charity.

“I’ll save the cow, but I hope I don’t have to talk to the old fart.”

“Just deliver the stuck calf and drench his sheep. He’s probably not interested in conversation with you either.”

“Damn. What about Little Man?” I asked.

“You mean Allan?” Twitch smiled.

“Damn!” Little Man shook his head. “What about Allan?”

“Kenny and Dad are at work at your lumber yard and Momma’s at the clinic.”

“I’ll take him with me back to town to my office,” Twitch said. “He can play with my hypodermic needles and wrestle a rabid coon I have in a cage. I’ll look after him until your folks are free to get him.”

“Sounds safe. Just don’t visit any of those soiled ladies with Little Man along.” I tied my hair back and corralled it under a hat.

“Soiled ladies,” Allan said.

Twitch transferred a cardboard box from the back of his Jeep into the back of my beat-up pickup while I put on some work clothes and boots. I stuffed a couple of extra pairs of coveralls in the truck cab.

“The supplies you’ll need are right there. McGerber has two hired hands. Lewis and Petey have worked on farms all over Minnesota. They know how to manage ornery critters—they’ll help you with McGerber and that cow.” He handed me a cardboard box of stuff. “Oh, try not to take all day!”

“Really?” I couldn’t believe he had the nerve to ask me to step foot on McGerber’s farm and also be quick about it. I transferred a car seat into the back of Twitch’s Jeep and strapped in Allan. “Remember to remind him to use the bathroom. Sometimes he’s playing so hard he forgets and pees where he stands.”

“Sounds like me,” Twitch said.

“Try not to tarnish any reputations in front of…Allan.” I placed a backpack with a change of clothes, a banana, baggie of carrots, and some toys in the front seat of Twitch’s Jeep.