"Harvard Comes To Montana" - Chapter Fourteen
By Griz
umgriz@protonmail.com
Hi, Guys;
To start: Grossly delayed, and I apologize. Winter has been more a challenge this year than any I remember. I believe Life is orbiting back toward Normal, whatever that is.
I hope January is going well for you. I don't have much to tell you before Chapter Fourteen gets underway, but there is one vital piece of information you'll need to know before you get to the end of it:
Die Zwillinge' is German for The Twins'. Don't worry; it'll all make sense.
I hope you'll enjoy this chapter. I wrote it with the weather a tropical -25F/-31.75C here, as well as a swing recently to much nicer (and workable) days. If this weather continues and I'm stuck inside here like it's Covid 2.0, I'll have fifty more chapters written to this story, and Jeff will go from 17 to 87 years old.
*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.
All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***
Marc pulled the truck right up to the barn where it had been hours ago. He got out, checked around the perimeter and walked back to where I was standing.
"Boyfriend."
"Boyfriend....."
I pulled him into a hug, which he returned. The wind whistled around us, but the farm was still, otherwise. Until it wasn't. Because my brother is an ass about 75% of the time. And this time, it wasn't just the wind that whistled.
"Hey! I want to remind you, this is a BARNYARD, Little Brother!"
Anders and I laughed, and Marc looked confused. I gave him a quick run-down, and he laughed along with us. Anders walked from the corner of the barn and joined us. Anders extended his hand to Marc, who shook it happily. I loved how welcoming my family were to Marc. I know this doesn't happen in a lot of families, and that's a grave error in parenting and Humanity.
Mom came out of the house and greeted Marc, also with a hug. My gosh. Again: Yes, Marc; I know I'm lucky. Mom was still being Mom, too.
"Marc, are you hungry? When did you eat? Probably not since you got to Great Falls, right?"
"That's true, and yes, Ma'am; I will say I'm a little hungry."
"Well, I'm not gonna feed you if you keep up this Ma'am' stuff! Marie' will get the job done! Now: breakfast or lunch?"
I tried to save him from being under the interrogation lamp.
"Mom, let's have lunch. It's almost 11:00. We can get cleaned up before The Team arrive. I'll help you."
"That'll work just fine, Jeff; and thank you. Now; all that needs to be decided is what you hungry boys will have. In the fridge, I have lots of stuff for sandwiches, and early this morning, I made a fresh Gazpacho with tomatoes, peppers and cucumbers from our own garden. I have two chickens in there I can fry. Otherwise, I can heat up a lasagna that's in the freezer. Any of that? All of that? I know how men are; there's never too much food."
Anders, Marc and I laughed. Anders spoke up, which I appreciated.
"I haven't had your Gazpacho for years. I'd like a sandwich and some of it."
"Same for me, Marie. I love Gazpacho."
"Lasagna and fried chicken for me, Mom!"
She and Anders scorn-laughed and pushed and shoved me, right back against Marc's chest. He reflexively moved his arms around me so I didn't fall, laughing. It wasn't exactly a public display of affection, but it was natural-----and felt right. Like being in his arms was.....well, where I should be.
Mom told us to come in the house if we wanted while she got lunch going. Marc said he'd like to see the puppies again for a moment, if that would be all right. I knew Lola Cola would need a potty break, so this was good timing. Mom and Anders headed into the house while Marc and I went in the opposite direction. The barn was cool, this still being morning. Bolt and Stan both were still in their stalls. That wasn't right.....it's a nice day, and they didn't need to be left in there.
I took Marc to the tack room and pulled down a hackamore and lead for each horse. I handed one pair to him and another for myself. Back at the horses, I went into Stan's stall and got him ready. Back out, I handed the lead to Marc, and then went in and prepared Bolt. Stan was a sweetheart, really; and he seemed to respond well to Marc. He and Dad both had deep voices, and with Marc's familiarity with horses, there'd be no worries about him leading Stan out to pasture.
Before going out, I opened the gate to Lola Cola's stall and asked her if she needed to go out. OH, YEAH-----as in, `get out of my way, Uncle Jeff'! She bounded over toward some grass and took care of everything. Poor Mama Dog.....you have only seven more weeks of this, but your human family will be with our canine family, every step of the way.
Old Cat was in the corner of the stall, and he replaced Lola Cola's presence with his own, even using a paw to gently move to barely-straying pups back to their brothers and sisters. OC had no milk-producing nipples, but I was pretty sure I saw two puppies latch onto them, anyway. Not that he minded; he was the guardian, the protector, the other uncle to those pups. Hmmmm.....was I beginning to love Old Cat? Probably. What's not to love?
Once Lola Cola was back with her family, Marc and I began our slow walk out of the barn into the corral. Through the gate there, we'd be in the little pasture. Stan was doing just fine with Marc, who was touching Stan's face and neck. Bolt wasn't presenting any anxiety about Marc's presence, which I'm sure he was reading off of Stan's reactions to him. We weren't riding today, but this was good for getting them used to Marc. I wanted the entire farm used to Marc, naturally and organically, and we'd proceed at the pace that worked well for everyone and everything.
We removed the leads from their hackamores and left them to run. Well, Bolt ran; Stan immediately dropped to the ground and rolled around, making the same funny noises humans do when we get a massage, but in Horse-Speak. We closed the gate, leaving the leads on it. I directed Marc back into the barn to show him where the phone was, but mostly, the bathroom.
I told him it would come in handy more than he realized when he was out here for longer visits. I also showed him where I wanted my bedroom. Marc didn't laugh at the idea; in fact, he thought it was practical, since it then increases guest space in the house. I told him about my room becoming a nursery for the next generation. He just smiled.
One virtue of Marc's that I learned early on and appreciated very much was his willingness to listen to me and accept whatever it was I was saying as relevant to the situation or moment. He had questions sometimes, but like at that moment, he never said, "Well, why do you need a nursery?" He already knew from context that I wanted future generations on this land.
When a man listens to you and hears you-----two different actions-----you know you're being respected. Respect, the rare commodity that it is, opens new lines of communication, new emotions, new possibilities for a relationship. My life will be well-lived, well-examined and well-loved, all three in all directions. So will my husband's, so will our children's.
For the moment, we were well-fed. We cleaned up in the barn bathroom and headed across the barnyard to the house. Inside, Mom was on the phone in the kitchen. Anders motioned for Marc and me to follow. We went through the dining room into the living room. My brother is a natural at hosting, instructing and making people feel comfortable.
"Mom is on the phone with the farm attorney, covering some of our questions earlier. I think she's almost done, and then we'll eat. Oh, right; you haven't been in the house, Marc. Want a tour?"
"Yeah, I would; old timber-frame houses are fascinating to me."
Anders led the way, pointing out different details of the ground floor, as well as changes that occurred over its 100-plus years of sheltering the family. We got up to the second floor, which had four bedrooms and two bathrooms. Anders showed Marc his and my bedrooms, and the guest rooms which were rarely used. In fact, I could not remember a guest being here overnight since I had been at least in high school (two months ago!). I sent brain waves to my brother: `Rooms for kids.....Anders, are you receiving the thoughts I'm sending your way? Pick up, Anders; pick up! KIDS' ROOMS, Big Brother.....for kids who look like you and Eva!'
We also took the very narrow stairs up to the attic, which was just one large, open room with a ten-foot peaked ceiling above us. Another place that could be my room. Marc liked the house, and made comments about historical architecture, which was something he took up as a hobby of sorts living in Massachusetts, where some houses were now 400 years old.
Once back downstairs, Mom was off the phone, singing to herself in the kitchen.
"Get washed up, Boys; lunch is on the table!"
We smiled at each other. I think this was the ten thousandth time I had heard her say those exact words. The three of us crowded into the main floor powder room and took turns lathering and rinsing and laughing. Marc didn't seem shy or uncomfortable. He had been here the night before, so he knew what to expect at meals.
Mom's sandwiches were works of art, really. And the cold Spanish soup? Incredible. She made it every Summer, and every Summer I wanted more and more of it. Mom and Dad both were good cooks. Dad could create breakfasts that were simple or extravagant. He knew, too, excellent soups, stews and chilis. Between them, and then later Anders and me as we got older, we all ate well.
Not just `plenty' well, though there was that, too; we ate good food, well prepared. Anders' specialty was spaghetti and meatballs, meatloaf and almost anything else using hamburger. Mine was a number of different casseroles, and I could also prepare some excellent (so I was told, anyway) Cobb or Chef salads.
We talked and laughed through lunch, mostly about Marc's trip to Great Falls and back. Mr and Mrs Taylor both were tearful when they left, worried that they'd saddled Marc with too much responsibility, when he wasn't entirely sure if he'd be staying in Lewistown. Marc said `just about anything that isn't grading freshmen history tests' wasn't nearly the responsibility that task was. As they boarded the plane, The Grandies told Marc, "We love you. Take care of the house, yourself and Jeff. And not necessarily in that order!"
Marc had assured them he would do lots of taking care.
Mom, Anders and I laughed at that, but not like it was a response to a joke; this was a laughter of recognizing compassion made light-hearted, but no less sincere. It was in that moment that Mom and Anders knew that Marc took me and our growing relationship seriously. That Mr and Mrs Taylor mentioned me once again made my heart sing just a little. My own commitment to take care of Marc, while not expressed at the moment, would be made obvious by my actions, at the very least.
Just as we were finishing up, the house phone rang. Anders once again turned in his chair to pick up the receiver and answer the call.
"Jorge! Hola! Si, Gracias. Come sta? Ah, bien! Donde estas? Aqui?!"
Anders got up and pulled the long phone cord with him to the kitchen window.
"I see you now! Please, come down; park your machines in the field close to the road. Everything is the same as last time. Yes, of course! We are happy you are all here! Okay, come down! We'll meet you!"
Anders smiled as he hung up the phone. The Team were up on the county road and called to make sure it was okay to come down. They were almost two hours early, and didn't want to get in the way. Heck, not as far as we were concerned; if they got an early start, they finished early, too. The four of us walked outside to see the huge combines come through the gate at the county road. We waved as eight combines caravanned into the field where they always stage their implements and trucks, and crew-carrying buses.
In about ten minutes, we were the target of 18 men walking toward us, everyone smiling and waving. It looked to me like some of the team were new; a few appeared younger than the typical men we see in their 30s and 40s. Regardless, all were welcome. Jorge and Miguel approached Mom and removed their hats. Following them were all the other team members. Classy and respectful. I loved that.
"Senora W; it's good to see you again, and your beautiful land. Hi, Anders! Hi, Jeff (which he pronounced Heff-ay', and coincidentally is the Spanish word for Boss!'"
"We are very happy to welcome you. All of you. We have had a good season, and I think this will be our best crop in years."
Miguel asked Mom:
"Where is Senor W?"
"Miguel, Ned died. It was unexpected. Not an accident; two strokes and a heart attack."
"Oh, no.....we are sorry, Senora W. Senor W was a good man. Honest and fair, and good to us."
"Thank you, Miguel. Anders and Jeff are like their father. You will find we appreciate and welcome you, and respect you and the work you're here to do. And this is our friend, Marc. Now, I have made sandwiches for all of you, and have different sodas on ice. Just go in the kitchen, grab what you want, including mayo or mustard, whatever, and come back out here. I have the picnic table there, and that'll seat ten men. Otherwise, lawn chairs are scattered around.
Also: through the end door of the barn, you'll find a complete bathroom. It's yours whenever you need it. Shower, too. My sons use it all the time; they don't clean up in the bathroom between their bedrooms! The only thing I'd ask, please, is to keep clear of the horse's stalls. We had a Mama Dog birth her litter two days ago. They are at a critical stage, so too many new people around them isn't a good thing right now. Any questions or concerns I can address for you?"
Miguel looked at his men. Some shook their heads `no'. He spoke to them in Spanish, and it became evident that some did not have a strong command of English. When he got to the mention of food, each of them smiled and said, "Gracias, Senora!" That was nice.
"Senora W, I remember you have on your land a cemetery. Is Senor there?"
"He is, Miguel."
"We pay our respects before we eat, ok? Then we will wash up in the barn and come get lunch, ok?"
"That's kind of you, Miguel. The cemetery is 50 yards west of the barn. There is a trail to it. My husband's grave is new; you will see it clearly."
Miguel turned to his team and spoke in Spanish. Heads nodded, and he, Jorge and Ignacio led the procession westward. Anders, Marc and I followed to the wall of the barn, and after a moment's hesitation, Mom did, as well. We stayed there. Someone began singing a song, and within only a second or two, everyone else joined in as they walked toward our cemetery, and to Dad.
Once at the cemetery, Miguel turned and spoke to the team. Everyone got down on one knee and crossed themselves. Ignacio led a prayer, which included responses from the team. It was very much like being in Mass. Tears streamed down my face. I was right back in the church for Dad's funeral. And while I don't know all what was said by The Team in their prayers, I felt the sincerity of the words spoken and the genuine intentions behind them. This was not our tribute; it was that of business partners and friends whom we liked and respected, and who felt exactly that about Ned Wojtowicz.
A period of silence followed, perhaps only one minute or so, and we heard the wind rustling the wheat around the cemetery. As they stood up again, each man was holding a rock they'd picked up from the ground. They took turns placing the rocks at the head of Dad's grave. It said, `I was here with you.' The youngest-looking man led the processional back, and he began another song, which everyone else joined. It was almost joyous; celebratory. Many were smiling. We watched from the side of the barn, holding each other's hands and feeling the love and honor The Team had just shown Dad----and us.
Washed up and laughing, The Team made their way through the kitchen, grabbing sandwiches, potato chips and cans of soda. They had come a long way, up from Oklahoma, Kansas Colorado, into Wyoming, and now to us. Five years ago, Mom began a tradition of photographing the entire team, including herself, Dad and me. We kept the photos on the wall in the pantry office. It was as Mom said only a couple of days ago; `the game never stops. We just rotate players on and off the field'. New faces this year, and I noticed Juan and Carlos were not with us. I hoped they were well.
After lunch (which was mostly laughter as The Team told their good-natured stories about situations on farms they'd been to previously), everyone pitched in and helped clean up. Mom was nothing but smiles and `Thank You!s'. Anders and I would pull out a map and show Miguel where to direct the first cut tomorrow morning. We couldn't do anything today; the grain trucks from Great Falls weren't here yet. As it was, we were in great shape for harvest. Marc and Mom went back to Puppy Nursing Duty for awhile. I had my hopes set on them furthering their acquaintance, particularly Marc's interview with Emil Boldonovic.
After the babies were fed and nestling in for a nap, Marc ducked into the barn bathroom and washed his hands. He came out the big door, looking up at the sky to see a hawk circling overhead. I suspected his visit to the petting zoo was over for the day. I was happy to get any amount of time with him, and really, I was mostly happy that he got his grandparents to their plane, and then him back here again. Other than running on one, Marc isn't familiar with our state highways.
It was only three hours away, and he decided then was the right time to get back home (that sounded so nice to hear him say home') and cleaned up, and into club wear'. I walked him to his fancy-schmancy Ford Pinto-On-Steroids and hugged him goodbye.
"Bye, Professor Boyfriend; and thanks for the Costco-sized box of Rice-A-Roni. I'm glad you could stay awhile."
"Thanks for having me. Jeff, I like your family. I wish I could've met your dad. The tribute paid him today was one of the most genuinely sincere events I've ever witnessed. I was almost in tears."
"I was in tears enough for both of us. I'll never forget this. Some of The Team didn't even know him, but they `knew' him by reputation from the others. I've known Miguel and Ignacio since I could walk. I've ridden with them in their combines so many times. They liked Dad and his harvest contracts. As far as I'm concerned, they'll have those for years to come."
"You farmers really do plan ahead, when the rest of us just think about the day we're in. I like seeing this perspective of Life. For now, I'm going home to take a nap for an hour or so. Grampy told me how to get to the country club. Doesn't sound difficult."
"Not at all. I wonder if anyone in town has ever seen that Mustang."
"They won't see it there. Being seen driving that when I'm looking at a public school administrator job could come off as just a wee bit pretentious. I'll drive Grampy's old truck."
"Your truck. Old, yes. Just like the man who'll drive it....."
"Impudent Jeff! You just keep pushing Sunday further and further back, don't you?"
"Even folks in Fergus County can do our own version of time travel. We can see the future; we just can't quite get to it when we'd like. Speaking of `like', I like your idea of the truck."
"I like the idea of you."
"I like you."
We smiled at each other and embraced for another hug. Marc got settled in the form-fitting Recaro seat. He drove back up to the county road, and then once on it, was driving so slowly on the gravel, I doubt he rolled out of second gear. It was good he wanted an evening to himself; he'd probably have to digest lunch and an interview at our version of a club at Pebble Beach.
I decided to take an ATV out and check on Sebastian in the big pasture, making a stop at the barn fridge for a treat. I'm sure he was just fine, but I missed my big guy, and wanted him to know I loved that purple ribbon-winning personality of his. Anders talked with The Team. They were staying at their usual motel in town, and in addition to the implements, the two crew vans were part of the vehicles now on the property.
Miguel thought this would be a good afternoon to enjoy some pool time at the motel, and the others agreed. They waved goodbye just as I was headed out through the little pasture. Anders would communicate with him when he got word from the truck leasing company in Great Falls, and then coordinate with The Team. `Farm Choreography' is a talent we all learn to keep The Machine running efficiently for everyone.
I also wanted to get away for a moment by myself, just to stay grounded with the ground, so to speak. We were still in our first week following Dad's death, Marc's arrival, Lola Cola's litter, Anders coming home and his possible reunion with Eva, and now involving ourselves in the welfare of our friends and neighbors. If roller coasters could be rocky, the biggest and rockiest one was on our property. I wondered if the ride would end anytime soon.
`Dad, this is going to be fine; just liked you'd planned it to be. I will make sure of that, myself. I didn't see any crops lying down. No hail and no low pressure weather forecast for the next ten days. Also no guarantees----but we can hope. And Mom, your Sweetheart, and your sons might've hatched a plan to help a friend and neighbor. I think you'd have smiled and just kicked back at the kitchen table while the three of us reached the same conclusion you would have in the first 30 seconds of hearing about the Sangers' plight, ready to pour the Rye at any moment. I hope this'll work, Dad. Please be with Mom when she calls Joe at King Colony this afternoon. Thanks, Daddy.'
Sebastian just looked at me when I rode up on the ATV, standing there chewing on something leafy. Dad and I had joked about planting marijuana here and there in the big pasture, just so we could watch the animals after they got stoned. I was laughing at the memory and turned off the buggy. Sebastian began his slow gait in my direction. I think he saw the bulge in my pocket, hoping it might be an apple. I was thinking it might be a good idea to treat him more. What harm is one apple a day going to do to a one-ton Black Angus steer, after all?
I gave him a rub between his eyes and then on his silly ears, action he loved. He told me all about his morning (in one single moo') and ate the apple wedges I cut up for him. Bovine domestication has not evolved to the point that cows, which seem like big, dumb dogs, start acting like canines, as well. A notable exception was Sebastian. He liked physical contact with me, and would turn himself so his hip contacted with mine. Then he'd lean just a little. And knock me over just a lot. Hilarious, because he'd just look at me like, What're you doing down there, Apex Alpha Predator Wanna-Be?'
He also liked playing tag, which was fine as long as he became and stayed It'. Having 2,000 pounds of mammal locomotive with fast, fast legs and slow, slow brakes chasing me down because I'M It'? Yeah, not quite the same fun and games. Still, I could deny my Big Guy nothing. We'd been together five years. Our time was running out. I knew it was all part of the big circle of agriculture and animal husbandry, but that didn't mean I needed to embrace and evangelize Sebastian's eventual final destination on someone's plate.
I was feeling, though, that adopting a new steer would not be a waste of time and resources. There really is something beneficial for cows, particularly pregnant ones, when a steer is present. I'd talk with Anders about it. Maybe we could just keep one of our own from the calves that'll arrive in February. Heck, I was already missing Sebastian, and yet we were hip-to-hip, enjoying apple slices together. Don't count your chickens before they're hatched, and don't mourn your cattle before they're roasts and steaks. And share apple slices slowly. There's no rush.
I looked around the huge pasture. Seemed like a lonely place to me. Maybe Julie Andrews could come out of nowhere, spinning around and singing about.....whatever. I still think The Hills Are Alive' was a metaphor for her newly-unfettered convent boobs. (Named affectionately Die Zwillinge' by Captain von T.)
Sebastian was still haltered and the gate to the little pasture was only 100 yards away. Might as well join him with his fag hags. I held onto him and we walked in the direction of the gate. We paused when Sebby wanted to sniff the air, eat something green, or nuzzle my pocket in hopes of conjuring another apple. Once we got him through the gate to mingle and be sociable, I ran (for the fun of it, and because Marc inspired me) back to the ATV and turned around, heading home.
I wanted to call or text my boyfriend, but didn't want to interrupt the groove or the nap he was likely getting himself in. This was an important opportunity, for both him and the school board. And Marc's life, really, was on its own wild ride. His only remaining family were now gone. Still alive, granted; but physically no longer in the house they built a long time ago, and was now Marc's home.
His career trajectory changed with his decision not to return to Harvard, but to take a chance on getting a job in a small town's school district. Just a chance; that's all he was getting. They could still say no. Marc could say no. Either way, at the end of the day, he'd have a house, an old truck, a new car, a really cool radio, a year's supply of 7-UP and root beer in the basement, and a boyfriend. But maybe not a job. As much as I envied his academic career and past, I did not envy his immediate future. The one that would begin soon, with a second discussion with Mr B.
Our farm would see hectic activity for four or five days (I was still betting 25¢ on four days), but at the end of it, we could rotate the crops and prepare for planting Winter wheat. I needed to talk with Anders and Mom, though: IF everything went according to plan and we assumed the Sanger farm, what would we do with the land? The question was now at the front of my brain. Anders was right yesterday; what to do? Maybe a bigger livestock operation there?
I liked cattle, although Sebastian set a very high bar for his fellow ruminants. Perhaps this requires deeper investigation, but it's possible I like large herds because if I ride through them, I get high from all the methane they produce. I've been known to program a Spotify playlist of nothing but Pink Floyd and Enya, spending hours letting the horse steer us through intoxicating Bovine Butt Burps, writing silly stories in my head about farm boys, and singing along with the music-----even in the parts where there's no singing. Or music.
I still laugh that Lewistown, Montana----population 5,000 and change---has both a country club and a One-Percenter `A List'. Still, it was where my boyfriend would be talking about a new career, a new home and a new town. I doubt the subject of a new boyfriend would come up. If it did, it'd be an interesting conversation to hear. Of course, I concocted my own waaaay pretend version of Marc and Emil talking:
"So, Marc; how's the salmon? The cook here knows what he's doing. Moved up from bathroom janitor to dishwasher to head chef, and it only took him six weeks. You said a few days ago that you had three house plants. Your `only family' at Harvard, I think you said."
"True, Emil. Even with teaching only two courses a day, life in Cambridge is pretty fast-paced. I've had no real time for relationships."
"Well, it's a slower pace of life out West, Marc. You'll need something----or someone---to help you unwind after a week of budget this' and deadline that'. I think you'll find the dating pool here will favor a new-in-town, young, educated, good-looking man. IF you get my drift."
"Well, eventually I'll want to get out and meet people, Emil; but I don't need to rush into that. Besides, I got myself a farmboy. He'll do."
"Oh, yeah? Who'd you rope? Wait.....don't tell me! Jeff Wojtowicz! Well, how about you!"
"Actually, he roped me. Sunday morning, when I was busy getting lost. Apparently he saved me from porcupines, skunks and owls."
"AND Lu Barney, I'd expect."
"Oh, yeah; AND Shanna."
"So you don't bat for Team Hetero, huh?"
"Nope, `fraid not, Emil. Jeff already got a little something from me when he figured that out. From what I understand, that's almost the same thing as an engagement ring in these here parts."
"Well, it IS, and good for him! At least there are three of us in town, I guess! So, tell me; top or bottom?"
"Oh, top. And he really had to squeeze in to fit."
"The hell ya say! That must've been something to see! But you know how these Polish farm boys are; just BIG everywhere!"
"He took his own sweet time getting in, and I think he intends to just stay in now as much and as often as he can. He was so cute, and so proud of himself. I could tell that was his first time going that far with a man. I'm afraid it's gonna be really stretched out once he gets done with it, though. Heh.....I've no doubt some morning I'll wake up, stand up and find it on the floor and half-way under the bed!"
"Umm.....Marc.....what.....oh, geez. You might need to get it `stitched up' again at some point.....I mean, won't you?? I hope they won't have to cut too much excess out."
"Oh, this isn't the first time. Got used to it long before Jeff. Never had to cut anything out, though.....no, just tucked it in, pinned it and stitched it into place."
"Um, you mean, you've had to do that.....before?!"
"Well, yeah; Jeff wasn't the first one to take it from me. Of course, it's the first time for him, but not for me. I'm kinda used to giving it up, actually."
"What the fuck, Marc? You didn't need major reconstruction?!"
"Well, no; it's not really that big of a deal, Emil. It might get really worn out from Jeff squeezing in and out of it all the time, but I can't really deny him anything. I'll just go to Missoula for a new one, if I have to. What do you mean, `major reconstruction'?"
"WHAT??! I feel like I'm about to pass out!"
"Emil, just drink some water and breathe! You'll be all right! Kinda funny, though.....you and me talking about `The Boyfriend Shirt' in a kind of job interview."
"`The Boyfriend Shirt'!?"
"Well, yeah! Isn't that what you were talking about? You asked if Jeff got a top or a bottom from me. He got my favorite Rugby shirt. Um, Emil, you know, you're really not looking so well....."
I then pictured the ambulance arriving and Emil being taken out on a stretcher. Heh.....I told you I write silly farm boy stories in my head when I get high on cow gas.
My future was never about only me in it. I have all the courage and self-esteem.....well, okay, mostly hubris.....necessary to get out of bed on my own. It's the following sixteen hours that I can't be and won't be an island in a sea of wheat. Now, particularly: Anders, Tom and Marc. Mom and Eva. Maybe Kristi. I wasn't seeing my future without them.
A ride across pastures is good for some deeper thoughts through my noggin. I hosed off the dusty ATV (which I had failed to name, but I kinda favored Amelia) and returned it to the vehicle shed. Note to self: buy another five gallons of fuel for it and the side-by-side thing (also unnamed. Seersucker'? Nah. Satchmo'! That'll work). Lots on my mind that day. Marc was by now at his interview. I hoped it went well enough that there'd be a subsequent---and hugely successful---interview with the school board.
Walking back to the house, my phone buzzed my pecker in my pocket. Just kidding-----it's the carrot I was going to treat Sebastian with, but I'll share it with him later this evening. I looked at the number. 406 area code, and a 761 number. I knew that was Great Falls. Uh-oh. What now.....
"Hi, this is Jeff."
"Jeff! Hi. I'm Lynn Padilla, state director for 4H. Am I calling you at a good time?"
"Hi; it's nice to meet you, Ma'am. Now is fine, although I'm outside on my farm at the moment. Spotty network here. If we lose a connection, I'll call you back from our house phone."
"That'll work! You're so polite. Ky Barris said you were. He was the judge at the fair this week. You met him, I believe."
"The livestock judge? I met him, but didn't know his name."
Our conversation continued, including details about Sebastian, my age, and then an invitation from the State 4H organization for Sebastian and me to show at the State Fair in Great Falls. I didn't commit, telling her that we were beginning harvest the following day, and I'd need to talk with my family.
Ms Padilla understood. She said she'd email me all the paperwork, in case I decided to register before the deadline (the following Monday). I thanked her again for the phone call and the invitation to show. My gosh. I did NOT expect anything like this to happen. Heck, I didn't expect a purple ribbon here; I'd have been happy with blue, but really, I just wanted people to see my big guy and how proud of him I was. A ribbon win was not necessary.
But oh, it sure was nice!
I stopped at the barn bathroom and peed, and washed my face. I heard Lola Cola make a little bark, so I went to check on her. She wagged her tail and barked again. I think she also needed `the back side of the barn', so OC and I spelled her so she could stretch her legs and attend to her well-stretched nipples. She really did need a bath. She didn't smell bad, but her coat was not clean, which meant her belly wasn't. No reason to introduce barn bacteria to the pups at this point. That's what Mama Milk is for. Well, and Uncle Jeff Fake Milk, still well-supplied.
I found my little guy and picked him up. He squeaked just a little. I don't think I was rough with him, but OC wasn't so sure. He was up on my lap immediately and giving the pup a check-up. Yeah, I really was loving OC. He licked my little guy right on the muzzle, getting his tiny nose and mouth filled with OC Scent to reassure him all was well. I reached for the formula nursing bottle and parked it in Little Guy's mouth. He wasn't too interested, so it seemed he was full, or waiting for The Real Thing. In either case, I wasn't going to insist.
Mama Dog returned and plopped back down. OC stayed on the bale of straw with me. We both looked at the pups. None of them returned to nursing. At least that sort of ruled out any issues with Little Guy. The squeak was curious, though. I put him down right next to Lola Cola, and she sniffed and licked him. She didn't seem concerned; she wagged her tail and woofed again at me. I reached into the little cooler filled with ice and a special treat: desiccated duck hearts. I gave one to Lola Cola and one to OC, who gladly accepted. I don't know if he'd had one before, but I was certainly going to give him more. Geez.....animals and me and treats. Their wishes are my commands.
I picked up each pup and gave them the once-over. OC stayed right with me, like he was the vet and I was the interning assistant. All twelve seemed like growing, healthy puppies to OC and me, so I left the entire menagerie alone. I saw Barn Owl up in the rafters, and since she and I had yet to talk and get to know each other, I fastened the net back on the stall gate. Maybe I have trust issues with raptors. Ever since Mrs Taylor pointed out Barn Owl's presence, I wasn't taking chances. I noticed heighten vigilance on the part of Anders and Mom, as well. We were committed to those pups getting the best shot at unanimous survival, so until they were the size of their mother, I was not giving any quarter to Barn Owl.
Back in the house, I found Mom at the kitchen table again, looking at other papers. Didn't look like farm stuff, or if it was, nothing I'd seen before. That seemed to be the new standard this week, though; `Anders And Jeff Go To Red Tape School'. Well, we'd need to know it all someday. Someday was here.
Mom smiled at me. I asked her if she wanted some iced tea or lemonade.
"Together, please. Get something for yourself, and let's sit and go over some things for a moment."
That was fine. I wanted to tell her about my call from Lynn Padilla in Great Falls, too.
"Jeff, Anders is up taking a nap. I wanted to talk with you about school again.....and please try to be open-minded this time!"
We laughed and I said I'd do my best.
"Anders filled me in on your recent discovery that you might be able to do college remotely, and that MSU has a degree that seems like a hybrid of ag and food science, but it's not really business management or administration at all. These are your decisions, but I'd like you to know I'm interested in your choices and paths. If I can be of any assistance, even with just listening to you, that's part of what the `Mom Degree' was that I graduated with as you boys were born."
"Aw, thanks, Mom. So, the MSU news was good; it was nice to know I have options at that school, too. Can I ask, what was Anders' undergraduate degree in?"
"Ag Science. He got a BS in AS, so to speak."
"And that wasn't so long ago; like six years? And then his Master's?"
"Agriculture Education. Essentially, teaching Agro at a high school or college level. Two years for that, and teaching for two years."
"Wait.....is he really only 28 years old?"
"29."
"And yet.....he looks 40....."
"HAHAHA!!! I WON'T tell him you said that!"
"So, I don't know much about the differences between his undergrad and his graduate degrees, because until this week, I wasn't focused on the science end of this. I wanted to just wind up a vet and focus on animals. Of course, that was before Dad died.....so everything has changed."
"It has for each of us, Jeff. That's part of why you and I are talking now....."
"Why? What do you mean?"
"Because everything has changed. You know about other education options. They won't come with scholarships, because those are for Montana, not Montana State. So, that's part of this. As you saw earlier, um, affording college isn't a concern for you. So I wanted to just let you know: if you want to pursue the ag and food science direction, don't worry about losing access to the scholarships. You earned those with your work up to high school graduation. Your dad and I looked at those as your own `purple ribbons', Jeff. You worked for and won some amazing and very rare accolades. You'll always have those accomplishments."
"`I'll always be able to say I was a Harvard professor'."
"Um, excuse me? Something I don't know about you?"
"What? Oh, no; sorry, Mom. What you said reminded me of something Marc said, when he decided he wanted to pursue the administration job here. He said what you said, just using different words. Wow, that's kind of amazing, and thank you, you're right. I'll always have those accomplishments. And they're just the start. So thank you; I don't have to worry about school if I don't have the scholarship money anymore. That's a relief, actually."
"We'd have made it work somehow, Jeff; even if there wasn't the other farm and money, or the life insurance money....."
"`Life insurance money'?"
"You dad and I have had polices since we were married. As you are finding out, just as I am, one person gone from a farming operation changes everything. While we reshuffle the Family Deck, we can't stop. We've had this conversation, and we'll have it again. The money from the policy was to help us keep moving as we reorganized everything."
"I guess insurance is insurance; a gamble against loss of some kind. Seems like a giant Ponzi Scheme to me, though; claims can be paid as long as new people buy in."
"Hmmm.....never thought about it that way. So, there's the money from your dad's life insurance policy. Your education was already assured; now it's just guaranteed, depending on your decisions."
"Monday I want to call Montana and find out who I talk with about applying the scholarships to distance learning. I'm still leaning toward a business degree, particularly since Anders has the ag education already. We would complement each other. With that said, MSU also offers distance learning degrees, including Agro Business-Farm and Ranch. I want to know more about that. Maybe when Sleeping Beauty awakens, I can find out what he knows about that."
"You boys work so well together. Your dad would love that. Now that The Team are here, you could take some time off and go to both campuses and actually meet people, if you'd rather. Anders and I can handle this for a week."
"Hmmm.....that's a thought, Mom. Thanks; I'll think about that. Right now, though.....we have to manage the most important part of this operation, all three of us together....."
"Crops? Pregnant livestock? Buying and selling acreage?"
"Feeding puppies, of course!"
"You're silly."
"Oh, don't tell me you don't worry about them! All three of us do!"
"Can't argue.....but we have more to talk about, once Sleeping Beauty is awake and can join us."
"I'll say at this point, as regards the MSU vs Montana debate in my head: I want to talk with Anders and find out more about his education. What he learned and how he thinks that'll benefit the farm. It's not just his work experience here from years ago; he got something out of all those hours in classrooms, as well.
Would my degree be similar to his? The same? Some overlap? Nothing? The reason I ask those is because what's the point of me getting a similar degree if we're going to team together here? To me, it would make more sense for me to stick to the original plan and learn business stuff. And just go with me on this, but if we're possibly/probably/definitely assuming management and operation of 1,000 more acres that we'll actually use, and get more familiar with what goes on at Hingham, the way I see it, I need at least an BA, and possibly and MBA. You know by now, and Dad did, too; my intention is to live here, work here, and wind up next to the ancestors, west of the barn."
"Great questions and considerations, Kiddo."
"Oh, c'mon!"
"`Jeffrey'?"
"WHYYYYY??!"
"`Jozef'?"
"Too late now for that to be me all the time, but from you? Any time, Mom."
She laughed and ruffled my hair, kissing my forehead.
Anders walked down the stairs rubbing his face, still trying to wake from his nap.
"What're you two up to?"
"Jeff's school options. We were covering those."
"Oh? So, Reform School?"
"Finishing School in Switzerland, Smart-Ass. I want to perfect my yodeling to cover up your snoring."
"Don't you have a boyfriend you can go annoy while HE'S trying to sleep?"
"Anders, if Jeff is with Marc, I don't think anyone will be asleep.....just a hunch."
I turned a million shades of red and we all laughed. MY MOM said that! HAHAHA!!!
I brought them up to speed on Marc's need for some alone time, which they both thought was a good idea. Mom wondered when we'd hear the results of the interview.
"Good question.....we didn't cover that last time we talked. Not gonna rush him; he'll say something when he's maybe done his own thinking and sleeping on it. It's a big decision for him, which I respect. Sounds arrogant of me, but I hope the only thing he's thinking about is the job, and if it's right for him."
Mom and Anders both rolled their eyes and Anders smacked the back of my head.
"Wasn't it right here, at this very table, you had to enlighten me that Eva was NOT bringing fancy doughnuts just so she could see puppies?"
"Well, yeah! She wasn't! She wanted to see you!"
"So, do you really think Mel Trapper is NOT going to be thinking about you, maybe just a little, when he considers wanting the job?"
"Anders, eventually you're going to run out of pseudonyms for Marc Taylor, but I've decided to play along and then laugh uproariously when the only name you have left is: Marc Taylor! And yeah, maybe, but he got three degrees----that I know of----just so he could teach at Harvard or University of Montana or the Sorbonne. He didn't study public school administration. I hope he'll do it IF he really wants the job. And I really hope he really wants the job. Really!"
"Jozef, I can bet good money right now Marc is not thinking at all about whether he can do the job. He knew that when he and Emil were first talking. If he didn't think he could do it after that conversation and then all the research he did in the library and online, this interview today would've been over before it began.
Marc is wondering if YOU'LL be happy, someone about ten years younger than he is, with the entire world at your feet, staying in the town you have lived all your life in, with him in your life moving forward. Anders? Disagree?"
"Oh, entirely."
"What??"
"Yeah, WHAT?!"
"Miles Trask will be wondering if Jeff really loves him.....or if the first man in Jeff's life is Sebastian. Or maybe Bolt. And how back-burnered Mr Harvard Professor will be, waiting impatiently until Jeff spends time with the two-legged mammal, not the ones with four legs each."
We laughed again, drank more lemonade and iced tea, and agreed to table conversation for the rest of the day about the logical path forward for two pieces of property----until the deeds are changed and a fence removed separating the Sangers' farm from ours. Honestly, I didn't want to think about that anymore right now.
I was interested in Marc's interview. No, not that; I was interested in how Marc was feeling about it. Good? Not good? Yeah, of course I wanted him to want to stay here for the job AND for me; but I will never be in his league. Any university would call him and offer Marc the world. If the job can't keep him here because something better comes along, how can I keep him if someone better comes along?
Maybe I am trying to do too much at once. College student. Farmer with expanded responsibilities. Grieve for and resolve my father's death. First-ever boyfriend, whom I'm taking seriously. Prioritizing those four wouldn't be the sum game; it would just be a fifth thing I'd have to deal with. That's where talking to Dad comes in. Talking with Anders and Mom. Tommy. And definitely Marc. I believe everyone in my life will be honest with me when I ask questions. I just hope they don't ask me any questions I don't want to answer, like prioritization.
Harvest begins in earnest tomorrow morning. Finally. I have to talk with Mom and Anders about Sebastian at the State Fair. I need to check into the distance learning requirements at Montana. I need to see Tom. That might wait until Saturday evening. Even MORE stuff to prioritize.
Anders got a nap. Marc got a nap. Puppies? Naps. I think I wanted one, too. Outside, beneath the huge maple tree. Marc, come take one with me, Babe. Tell me how you did, and what you want. I'll tell what I was working on, and what I want. Hold my hand. I'll put my head on your chest and we'll take a nap. Just a wee nap. With you, Boyfriend.