Page 2 of Till The Cows Come Home

Chapter Two

Sage

Present Day

M y involvement in the world of agriculture dwindled until it became almost nonexistent, my hiatus rapidly evolving the moment I walked off the farm for the last time.

My parents purchased a small renovated farmhouse on the outskirts of the town, but I settled into an apartment as close to the heart of Lox as I could, a conscious choice made out of spite to be as far from my roots as possible.

Unfortunately for me, though, nothing could halt the circadian rhythm ingrained into my very being.

I still woke at five every morning, rising to the smell of coffee, but instead of feeding cows, I fed strays, which I shamefully bribed into companionship.

All the time I used to spend doing chores was now spent working at the library.

It wasn’t an even exchange by any means, but it was all that I had.

Jane had been the town librarian for as long as I could remember, and she offered me a spot under her literary wing when she heard of my displacement.

She was your typical mid-seventies librarian, crotchety, but in an almost endearing way, and without her I’m not sure where I’d be now.

Through toddler birthday parties and teen breakups, she was there, whether it be handing out cake or a book to cry to, so it only made sense that she also showed up when my life fell completely apart.

But having a boss that cared for you deeply had its downfalls, the major being that she prohibited me from working myself to death, strictly capping my hours at forty each week.

But idle time was not a friend of mine, which is how I ended up at the farmers market after boycotting it for the last three years.

I had avoided it like the plague, dodging the embarrassment I thought I’d face showing up to a place I used to thrive, but after a few too many empty weekends, I couldn’t stand the quietness of my apartment any longer.

I knew how good it would feel to be surrounded by the world I grew up in and after some drawn-out internal deliberation, I spoke it into existence, which then damned it to fruition.

Before I knew it I was parked next to the center of town waiting for Ruby, who pulled in next to me five minutes past our meeting time.

Quite honestly, this was no surprise. I swore the woman scheduled her tardiness, but she was my best friend and I loved her, nevertheless.

She also happened to be the one person who continuously urged me to surround myself with the lifestyle I left.

I think deep down she could sense the grief I carried despite my efforts to bury it, and a part of her believed the only way to heal was to face the life I ran away from.

When I mentioned the farmers market earlier in the week, her eyes lit up immediately.

The excitement was palpable, but she feigned indifference to our weekend plans, nonchalantly agreeing while simultaneously attempting to hide the extent of her enthusiasm. This morning she chose no such thing.

“Good morning, Sage Baker!” she sang as she exited her car. “Are you ready to market your ass off?”

I rolled my eyes, but in reality, I was ready to market my ass off. The smells in the air had my mouth watering and the thought of fresh everything made me giddy.

I linked my arm with hers and we crossed the road together, entering the hustle and bustle at the beginning of the familiar loop, and as we looked forward we could see the vendors strategically arranged in the same circular pattern that always wrapped around the center of town on Saturday mornings.

The space was carefully curated to funnel patrons into a makeshift tunnel, guided only by the constant force of traffic moving everyone forward.

I had spent every weekend here with my family and when we moved on, I not only lost a part of my routine, but also access to the products we produced.

Store-bought milk just wasn’t the same, and I found common dairy products lackluster to where I oftentimes chose to just go without.

“Before we get too far,” Ruby said, momentarily pausing us in our tracks, “there may be someone new in your old spot. I haven’t been in awhile. Sometimes it’s empty…but sometimes that’s where the newer vendors are. Just so you’re not blindsided.”

“Thanks, but I think I got this.”

“You do. You really really do.” She smiled, relinking her arm with mine.

I smiled back at her, but as we rounded the curve, I couldn’t stop my heart from quickening.

Scenarios flooded my mind, and I half heartedly imagined my parents would be there, smiling proudly as they conversed with patrons.

They’d claimed that spot for as long as anyone could remember and I had a hard time imagining it without them there.

The breath left my lungs, time seemingly standing still as the stall finally came into view.

That motherfucker.

Ruby walked past me, stopping to turn to me when she realized I was no longer moving with traffic.

“What's up?” she asked, and when I didn’t respond, she followed my line of vision until she, too, unearthed what I was staring at.

A man our age was running the booth, standing behind a table smiling as he did business with the people passing by.

I blinked aggressively as if the collision of my eyelashes could erase the image in front of me, but the only thing it accomplished was clarification.

In front of the table proudly hung a banner with a name that no longer belonged.

Baker Farm.

“He didn’t even change the name,” I whispered, shock coursing through me as my mind pieced together the information in front of me.

I’d never met the buyer, choosing to be as far removed from the process as possible, but I didn’t expect him to be so young, and I surely didn’t expect him to operate under our name.

I was supposed to be the one who proudly accepted the baton from my parents, running the homestead when they became too old to do it themselves.

Instead, I stood eerily still, ignoring the pressure of the bottlenecking tunnel behind me, stuck as my body forced me to endure the scene.

“Let’s go,” Ruby whispered, shooting a sympathetic glance at the people stuck behind me.

She tugged at my forearm, attempting to steer me away from the chaos I was creating, and thankfully after a moment my feet released the hold they seemingly had on the ground, propelling my body forward away from the whispers of the people behind me.

“No,” I muttered. “Let’s just keep going. I want to see Beth before we leave.”

Ruby gave me a questioning look as if she was going to argue my decision, but after the years I spent rebuilding my life, the farm was no longer a topic of discussion, and especially not criticism.

We began our shopping, and I ignored the concerned glances she kept sneaking as I browsed my options.

My feet had no longer failed me, stopping only when the tang of yeast and cinnamon flooded my senses, and as if she was expecting my arrival, Beth emerged from behind her booth, searching my face to see if I too had noticed the newest addition to the market.

“I saw.” I sighed.

“I made you your favorite cheddar jalapeno sandwich loaf as an apology for not warning you. I didn’t know what to say, sweetheart.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” I choked out, desperately trying to convince myself that the words I spoke held an ounce of truth.

Beth just placed her hand over mine, looking at me with pity filled eyes until a symphony of “excuse-mes,” harmonized around us.

“Sorry,” she mouthed before turning her attention to the group of people waiting with questions.

Not quite ready to leave, I sorted through the homemade loaves, reading each ingredient to buy myself time before stepping from the familiarity.

The last thing I needed was for the ounce of remaining dignity I possessed to be wisped away as I cried into baked goods, but against better judgment, I looked over my shoulder anyway, knowingly a glutton for pain.

My plan was to reminisce on my days behind that very same table, but when I looked over, it was empty, customers passing by the unattended booth.

It didn’t take me long to spot the mass of man that once stood in its place and, to my surprise, he was barreling towards me.

Too stunned to move, I stood wide-eyed and confused as he closed the distance between us, stopping right in front of me.

He had to be well over six feet and built as you’d expect a farmer in their late twenties to be, stocky yet refined, which quite honestly just pissed me off.

As he smiled down at me, I could feel the anger beginning to simmer and I could tell my face mirrored those feelings as his smile dulled to confusion.

“Hi. I’m sorry to interrupt you miss, I saw you from across the market and I just wanted to tell you how?— ”

“Are you kidding me?” I interrupted, looking up into his eyes with fury I hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Excuse me, ma’am?” he stammered, but before he could continue, I cut him off again.

“Don’t even bother introducing yourself. I don’t know who you are, and I don’t want to.”

I stomped away until my anger bubbled up, begging for an outlet. I knew the last thing I should do was turn around, but I did it anyway, marching my ass back to him until we were toe to toe.

“Are you not ashamed, parading yourself around this market as someone you’re not?

Truly so dull that keeping the name of a failed farm trumped creating your own?

Because I can assure you without a conscience, your looks and charisma can only get you so far, and it’s nowhere near me.

I don’t associate with wealthy men that swoop in and prey on others misfortune. ”

Surprised by my own verbal tyrant, I clung to Ruby’s elbow and swung us away, leaving the tower of a man with his mouth slightly open.

“You’re my hero,” Ruby squealed, but all I could focus on was thrusting myself forward, eager to escape the disaster that was this day.

Before we could get too far, I heard his deep voice directed to sweet Beth, who was still feverishly running her bread stall.

“Uh. Should I know who that is?” he asked, gaze fixed on the spot I was moments ago.

Beth paused amidst the chaos, smiling back at him, her grin acting as a warning.

“Oh baby, that's Sage Baker.”