Page 4 of Till The Cows Come Home
Chapter Four
Sage
R uby followed behind me as we trudged through my apartment door, both our arms full, balancing bags of what some may consider an excessive bounty.
I couldn't help myself, though. Being back at the market did something to my brain, and I blacked out, practically handing over cash the moment anything looked remotely enticing.
I took a deep breath, plopping the haul on the counter, and as I began unloading, I relaxed, letting the familiarity of the task settle the last of the adrenaline coursing through my system.
“I feel a little bad now,” Ruby mumbled as she took the things I unloaded and stocked them into my refrigerator.
“Why would you feel bad? You didn’t even say anything!
” I huffed, silently cursing Ruby’s soft side.
Ruby was one of the nicest people I’d ever met, and our differences in personality made us perfect friends.
The polarity allowed us to have a system of checks and balances.
She told me when I was a little too callous and, in return, I told her when she needed to grow a backbone.
“I laughed, though! He just actually seemed kind of nice. He called you Miss and when you yelled at him, he just looked like a sad puppy. You never told me that your parents sold the farm to a sexy lumberjack whose manners resembled a western cowboy.”
I rolled my eyes. “I never met the buyer. My parents and I weren’t exactly on perfect terms back then.
Every time they tried to talk about logistics or prepare me for life after, I just begged them to keep the place.
I’m sure they didn’t want to make things worse by rubbing it in my face that someone my age with less experience could take it over when I couldn’t. ”
“I mean, your parents were the ones paying you. They obviously knew they weren’t setting you up to have massive savings. Isn’t that the whole reason they wanted to sell in the first place?”
“I didn’t care about savings; I still don’t. I loved that place and was willing to live whatever humble lifestyle that would bring. Now some lumberjack gets to enjoy my cows.”
“A very sexy lumberjack,” Ruby added.
“Motherhood has made you soft,” I teased, knowing damn well I didn’t mean it. Ruby was a warrior. She and her wife went to hell and back to have Asher and I silently cringed, remembering all the needles involved in the process.
“What are you going to do next time you see him at the market? Just pretend you didn't verbally assault him?”
“Next time? Ruby, I'm never stepping foot in that market again. The plan was to be mature and avoid him. We did the opposite because, for some reason, I’m being punished, and he just had to make himself unavoidable.”
“I give you one week without Beth’s bread before you’re crawling back.”
I nudged my shoulder into hers. “Speaking of, you want to stay for lunch? I’ll make sandwiches?”
“I can’t. I gotta get back home. Ali has to go into work for a few hours, which means solo baby snuggles. ”
“Give Asher a kiss from Auntie Sage,” I grumbled, begrudgingly walking Ruby to the door.
“Of course, but can we take a moment to just fantasize about how cute it would be if Asher had an Uncle Lumberjack,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows up and down.
“Out!” I laughed, playfully closing the door on her.
“Think about it!” echoed on the other side of the door as she made her way down the hall of my apartment building.
My love life was almost nonexistent, and I’d lost count of the amount of men that saw me covered in cow shit and decided not to stick around.
I admit, it wasn’t a glamorous lifestyle, but I just didn’t have time to get dolled up for dates, even if I’d love the break.
I was content navigating life alone if the only other choice was pretending I needed a man to survive.
If he didn’t tick certain boxes, I chose not to waste my time, because I quite literally had none to waste.
I wasn’t sure what type of man this lumberjack was, but he didn’t seem like the type who could handle a feisty woman, judging by his response to my verbal lashing.
I was desperate to shake the mishap from my mind, so I texted Jane.
Anything needed down at the library?
While waiting for her response, I made myself lunch, pulling out two slices of Beth’s forgiveness loaf.
My mouth watered as I layered on a fresh tomato, salt and peppering it to perfection before adding a thin layer of mayonnaise.
As I took the first bite of the masterpiece I’d created, I saw the bubbles appear at the bottom of our texts, the telltale sign that Jane was considering my offer.
I hate giving into your whole overwork as a coping mechanism thing, but I could actually use you. There was a birthday party today and the little gremlins unshelved so many things, it looks like a damn tornado went through here.
I giggled while responding.
Be there in twenty.
Jane was right. When I arrived, there were books everywhere.
“Jesus, where were the parents?”
“Chasing them,” she said, as if she was recollecting a horror scene. “We set things up as usual with a reading, and then when it was time for everyone to find a book to check out, all hell broke loose.”
Jane had already put in plenty of hard time with the youth of Lox, Virginia, and I couldn’t help but feel sorry for her as she rubbed her temples, taking in the scene before us.
“Why don’t you go home? I’ll take care of this,” I offered.
“Ruby texted me,” she said matter of factually, and the silence was deafening as she waited for me to fill in the rest. Refusing to bite, I decided to play dumb.
“Oh, yeah?” I asked.
“He comes in here, you know.”
“Who?” I asked, knowing damn well we both knew who she was talking about.
“You’re trying my patience, Sage. Don’t make me fire you.”
I cackled in response, knowing the threat held absolutely no weight. “What could he possibly be coming in here for?”
“He uses the resource section. When he first moved here, he mostly checked out books about the dairy industry, animal husbandry, things you’d expect a farmer just starting out to need information on.
Lately though, he’s been interested in their emotional satisfaction, reading more recent stuff about ways to improve quality of life. ”
Slightly offended, I responded ruder than intended.
“I’ve read every book remotely involving cows, Jane. Not to mention the crusade I completed on the business section. I did everything I could.”
“I know you did, so it may be wise to recognize that you two may not be as different as you’re trying to make yourselves out to be.”
Stunned by her scolding, I sat in silence, allowing myself to feel the shame she intended for me, and after a few moments she squeezed my shoulder, coming to face me.
“We all know you're a tough cookie, Sage, but that doesn’t mean you should be stomping around, assuming you know things about people you don’t. You’re better than that sweet pea. I know for a fact, because this old lady is going home to rest thanks to you.”
I placed my hand atop of hers. “You’re right. I saw him being successful when I couldn’t, and I let my emotions get the best of me. I would have been better off ignoring him like I’d intended.”
“You’ll figure it out. You always do,” Jane called as she made her way out the library doors, leaving me in the toddler induced carnage.
I happily accepted the disaster with open arms, though, because it meant I could immerse myself in something other than the guilt of berating a man I didn’t know.
The remorse settled in as soon as I knew he was even slightly attempting to take care of the girls the way I did.
I wasn’t required to like him, but I also didn’t have to treat him like a monster if he wasn’t.
I turned on the radio, rotating the dial away from Jane’s relaxing tunes until I landed on the oldies rock station.
After a generous increase in volume, I got to work putting the library back together as best I could, attempting to achieve some semblance of normalcy so my shift in the morning wasn’t overly disastrous.
When my tank was empty and my brain could no longer obsess, I threw in the towel.
I’d scraped copious amounts of unknown sticky substances from tables and returned almost all the books back to their rightful spots, but not even coffee could continue to keep me running.
I drove home with the windows down, allowing the cool evening air to keep me awake, and as soon as I got home, I crawled into my bed for a few hours of rest, welcoming the exhaustion-induced sleep.
The week flew by, and I woke up slightly later than usual Saturday morning, my body and mind apparently in agreement that my lack of plans and exhausting week meant I needed more sleep.
Ruby had checked in with me almost daily, asking if I’d changed my mind, but I stood my ground, deciding it was best not to show my face again at the market.
The library had two additional parties during the week, each a tornado of mayhem, and my body and mind were feeling it.
I loved immersing myself in work, but five days of constant shrill screams had me driving home in complete silence, contemplating if I really wanted a lifetime career involving toddlers.
As my coffee brewed, I shuffled into my morning routine.
Most days started with a cup of coffee and a slice of toast, sitting on the balcony.
I usually rose before the birds, and there was something humbling about listening to their songs start one after another as the world began to wake.
I’d started off most mornings of my life like this, usually rocking with my mom on the porch swing, and although I’d distanced myself from my parents, I couldn’t help but adapt my own version of the tradition.