Page 62 of Finding Forgiveness

“Porkchop,” I whisper, and when she gives me a little grunt, the first tear falls. Something is wrong with her, but I’m still new to this farming gig, so I have no clue what’s going on. “I’ll call Martha, she’ll know what to do,” I say, not sure if I’m talking to myself or the pig.

Shit, my phone is still back at my cabin.

Turning, I run from the pen and up towards the house. My hands tremble as I pull the keys out of my pocket and climb into my car. I leave a big cloud of dust in my wake as I speed down the dirt road towards the back of the property.

I leave the car running as I dash inside to grab my phone from the bedroom. A few weeks ago, this device was attached to me like an extra limb, but I can’t say I’ve missed being without it. It’s been freeing.

I’m shaking so much that it takes a few attempts to turn it on, but once I do, I’m heading straight back out the door. As I’m running towards the car, all I can hear is ding after ding as all the messages and calls I’ve been avoiding the past week come through in rapid succession. They are the least of my worries right now.

My hands are still trembling as I pull up my Safari app and type in The Dancing Goat Café. My leg is bouncing up and down as I click on the call icon and wait. “I need to speak to Martha,” I say as soon as the phone is answered. “Something is wrong with Porkchop.”

I have no idea who’s on the other end, but I hear them reply, “Okay,” before Martha comes on the line.

“Cassie?”

“Yes,” I say, my voice cracking as I speak. “Something is wrong with Porkchop, she didn’t come out for her breakfast. I found her lying on her side in the pen.”

“Do you think she’s in labour?”

“You said she wasn’t due for a few weeks.”

“That was just a rough guess.”

“How can I tell?”

“You’ll need to squeeze one of her teats and see if she’s lactating. That’s always a sign the piglets are due.”

The Bluetooth has already connected to my car play, so I drop the phone onto the seat and move the gearstick into drive. “I had to go back to the cabin to get my phone. I’m heading down to the main house now.”

“Take a deep breath, hun, I can tell you’re stressing.”

“You think?”

“You did the right thing by calling me.”

“I’m scared, Martha,” I admit, biting my thumb nail.

“It’s going to be okay; you’re doing great.”

Who is she kidding;I’m a hot mess.

I wish I had her confidence. The last thing I need is Porkchop’s demise on my hands. Running back into the stall, I find her just how I left her. Moving around her extremely large body, I squat down in front of her. I was so intimidated by these oversized animals when I first met them, but over the past week, I’ve relaxed. They’re actually quite sweet and have individual personalities.

“I’m back, Porkchop.” She doesn’t lift her head or acknowledge me, but does give me the side-eye. “I’m sorry,” I say as I reach for one of her teats and give it a firm squeeze.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” Martha replies.

“I was apologising to Porkchop for groping her teat.”

Martha barks out a boisterous laugh. “There’s never a dull moment with you around, Cassie. You say the most random things.”

“There’s milk,” I screech. “It’s a teeny tiny drop, but it’s there.”

“Okay. Here is what I need you to do.”

“I can’t deliver her babies, Martha, I’m not a doctor. Technically, my mother is a surgeon so I may have some medical genes floating around in me somewhere, but I’ve never watched her cut someone open.”

She laughs again. “There’ll be no cutting anything open. I need you to go up to the house and get the box in the laundry … it’s on the bottom shelf. Everything you need is in there.”