When Tomorrow Comes, page 5
“Some do not care for being picked up or petted, but I raised Miss Hennie from a chick and handled her often so that she enjoys it.” She watched Miss Hennie settle against Baye’s chest and resume her low clucking. “Did you know that a hen can transition to become a rooster?”
Baye looked up, her hazel eyes wide and gray-green in the sunlight. “There are trans chickens?”
“Yes. It is a rare genetic condition, but if a hen’s only functioning ovary is damaged, the non-functioning ovary can develop into a structure known as an avo-testis, which produces male hormones that cause her to grow male plumage. They are not capable of fertilizing eggs, but it does not keep them from acting like a rooster.” Teague liked passing along knowledge and was pleased that Baye seemed interested instead of bored with her mini-lectures.
Baye stroked Miss Hennie. “I knew that with some animal species, same-sexes might pair off, but I had no idea there were also trans animals.” She looked up at Teague. “We humans are not as unique as we think, are we?” she said softly.
Teague briefly met her gaze. “No. We are not.”
Baye gently placed Miss Hennie down so she could rejoin her flock, and they stepped into the barn, dimly lighted by the sun shining in from the large rollback doors at either end. Teague opened a door to their immediate right to reveal a room packed with various bags of feed for the different animals. She filled a small cloth bag with alfalfa cubes, then scooped out a handful of cracked corn and tossed it into the barn’s hallway. The chickens scrambled to gobble it up.
“Is that what you feed them? Corn?”
“No. That is an occasional treat. A more balanced chicken feed goes in their feeders in the morning and at night.”
The door opposite the feed room opened, and a young man stepped out. “Hey, Teague. I thought I heard you out here.”
“Bruce, this is my neighbor, Baye. I am giving her a small tour of the estate. She and her cousin own the pet rescue next door.”
He held out his hand to Baye. “Nice to meet you. We’d been wondering about all the construction going on there for a while. Then I noticed your sign went up a few months ago. I love the name…Heavy Petting.”
Baye shook his offered hand. “Thanks. It was my idea but took some convincing to get my cousin to go along with it. She was afraid people would drive by and think it was a massage parlor.”
Bruce laughed. “Good thing that you added ‘pet rescue’ in smaller letters. But don’t let me interrupt your tour.” He stepped back so Baye could see the room behind him. Several saddles and a dozen halters with lead ropes attached hung on the wall opposite a battered desk. Cappie immediately jumped from Teague’s shoulder to climb among the halters and lead ropes. “This is the office. I’m a third-year veterinary student at State College, so I’m normally only here before classes, then in the early evening after classes to feed and clean pens.”
“Coming up on exam week?” Teague asked.
“You know it.” Bruce turned to Baye. “Teague lets me study in the barn office because my roommates are too rowdy and the library too distracting as people come and go. There’s nothing to divert my attention but an occasional visit from one of the curious animals. I don’t usually close the door, but Abigail’s twins keep coming in and trying to snatch my notes and eat them.”
As if summoned, the two kid goats tried to clamor past Baye and Teague, who each caught one before they could reach the tasty papers on the desk.
“We will leave you to it and get the goats out of your hair,” Teague said, tucking the small kid under one arm and patting her shoulder with her free hand. “Come on, Cappie. No. Leave Bruce’s pencil here.” She took the pencil from her pilfering monkey when he returned to her shoulder and handed it back to Bruce. “Sorry. He has chewed off the eraser.”
“There’s more in the desk,” Bruce said, smiling as he returned to his studies. Teague closed his door, and they set the kids down to rejoin their mother.
“Do you ride? I saw the saddles and stuff,” Baye said.
“I used to show in hunter classes but do not have the time now. I still ride occasionally with Mary Anne.”
The rest of the barn was sectioned off into five large stalls filled with wood chips, while a sixth had been converted into a chicken coop.
Teague watched as Baye peeked into each one, stopping at the last stall on the right. She turned to Teague, wonder illuminating her features. The sun was much lower now, its rays highlighting the blond streaks in the light brown curls that draped over Baye’s shoulders. Beautiful. She mentally shook herself when she realized Baye was speaking to her. “Sorry?”
“The cat…Leo is licking those big rabbits,” she said.
Teague stepped up beside her, maybe a little too close, and cleared her throat, which tightened as she inhaled Baye’s lavender scent. “Um, yes. I am never sure if he is grooming the rabbits or tasting them, but he has never hurt either.”
“Do all the animals sleep in the barn at night?”
“Only in rainy or very cold weather. The hens do come in to roost each night, and Bruce or I lock them up to keep them safe in case a fox tries to creep into the barn. Then I let them out around mid-morning after most have finished laying eggs. The rabbits generally are nocturnal animals and wander the yard at night. They are Flemish Giants, large enough to defend themselves against most danger, and Snow is on guard against big predators like coyotes. Lucky, the llama, and Asset, my donkey, come in some nights, but they usually prefer to stay out on nice ones. The barn and stalls are always open to give them a choice unless a storm is coming and I want them tucked safely inside.”
They left the barn and walked toward the wood fence that enclosed the pond and the large pasture that separated their homes.
“This is like a real farm, isn’t it? We’re only set up for dogs and cats at the rescue, but I wouldn’t mind taking some pigs or chickens, too.”
“Well, this would only be a real farm if the animals were used for food production. These are pets. I bought the sheep, all ewes, because they were destined for the butcher since they were too old to breed. The hens are the only food producers. They lay eggs pretty much year-round. Their peak production is during the summer, and I pass along what I can’t eat to the local food bank.” She smiled at Baye. “So, do not buy eggs this summer. When you run out, just pop over and get a fresh dozen from me or Connie.”
“I’ll do that.” Baye fell quiet as they walked.
After a while, Teague spoke. “I guess you stay pretty busy with the day-to-day business of running a rescue.”
Baye nodded but stared at the ground. “My grandmother left a trust that pays for John, and he lives in a cottage on the property. Grams called him her gardener, but he’s much more than that. He also our handyman and kennel cleaner. He doesn’t have any close family. He’s in exceptionally good health, but he’s approaching eighty and not physically able to do everything. I’m trying to figure out how to pull in more donations so we can hire some help for the kennels.”
Teague’s ears pricked up at this news. It could work in her favor. “What if—” Asset’s raucous brays drowned any hope of conversation as he ran across the pasture, obviously having just spotted them. Lucky strolled sedately behind him. Teague opened the small bag of alfalfa cubes she’d hooked onto her belt, handing several cubes to Baye and one to Cappie. She was pleased that Baye seemed familiar with the treat and held one out to Asset as he reached the fence.
“Hello, handsome,” Baye said to Asset, scratching his chin. She laughed when Cappie jumped from Teague’s shoulder to the board fence and held out a cube to Asset. When the donkey took it, Cappie jumped from the fence to cling to Asset’s neck, then sat on his back and began grooming his spiky mane. Baye’s delighted laughter made Teague smile again.
“They are great friends,” she said. “I occasionally take walks through the woods beyond the pond, and several of the animals like to follow. Cappie feels safe with Asset and will ride on his back during those walks.”
“What happened to Asset’s ear?”
“A roaming pack of dogs attacked and nearly killed him when he was a yearling. Several other donkeys in the field chased them off, but not before the dogs chewed his ear so badly it had to be amputated. His owner said he could not afford the vet bill for an amputation and told the vet to put him down. I paid for the operation in exchange for ownership. He boarded at Mary Anne’s for a while to be with other equines, but his friendly nature distracted her riding students. He does not appear to mind that his friends here are not horses.”
Baye—brown, green, and gray swirling in her eyes as she faced the sun—turned to gaze at Teague. “All of your animals have a story, don’t they?”
“They are all rescued from some tragic situation, except for Leo the cat, whose owner died. I am sure a rescue group would get multiple applications from potential adopters, but I promised my cousin I would take care of him.”
Lucky finally arrived and took several of the alfalfa treats from Teague but refused the one Baye held out for him.
“Llamas can be very suspicious, distrustful animals. He will not take food from you or let you pet him because he does not know you.”
“How did you get him to like you?”
“Llamas, as well as most equines, are very curious. I just sat in the middle of their pasture, reading a book, and after a short time, Lucky was looking over my shoulder, then sniffing my book. So, I laid a couple of cubes on the book, and she began swiping them. Soon, she was taking them from my hand.”
“I didn’t know that about llamas…Actually, I don’t know much at all about them. I do know about horses but didn’t realize they were so curious.”
When Teague gestured to the pond in silent invitation, Baye nodded and followed. Flower was wallowing in a muddy puddle on the bank, and two Canada geese were paddling toward them with five goslings trailing in their wake. Teague pulled a sandwich-sized plastic bag from her pocket and poured seeds from it into her hand, then tossed it across the water. The geese hungrily gobbled up the seeds floating around them.
“What are you feeding them?”
“Wheat. It is part of their natural diet. A lot of people think they are looking for insects when they peck away at a lawn, but they are eating the grass. They enjoy a variety of land and water plants and grains, and they will browse a wheat field after it has been harvested to pick up seeds that were left behind.” She held out the bag. “Do you want to throw them some?” She poured the rest of the wheat kernels into Baye’s cupped hand, which she unnecessarily held in her own as she emptied the bag. Her slightly larger hand seemed coarse, and her nails unpainted, compared to Baye’s slender fingers and manicured nails.
The watchful adults swam as close to them as they seemed to think safe, eyeing Cappie, who was chattering at them from his perch on her shoulder, and Flower, who was grunting happily in her mud bath. Still, they again gobbled up the wheat grain Baye cast across the water near them.
“They’re so beautiful.” Baye tilted her head thoughtfully. “Isn’t it amazing how nature creates such detailed markings, then duplicates those markings on each generation after?”
“Genetics are a mystery that scientists are only beginning to unlock.” Teague shook her head. “Do not get me started. I could discuss the subject for days. I believe genes could be at the root of future scientific advancements, even areas we now see as unrelated to genetics.” She’d solved many problems that stumped other scientists and engineers simply because they were too focused and failed to consider a broader view of possibilities.
Baye laughed suddenly and pointed to Flower, who had emerged from her mud pit and plunged into the pond to swim toward the geese, scattering them. “I’ve never seen a pig swim before!”
“Flower enjoys swimming. After she has had a bath, I sometimes let her in the pool at the house. She will swim laps with me, which helps keep her fit and lean.”
Teague watched Flower swim after the geese but could feel Baye’s gaze on her and wished she was wearing something better than her faded T-shirt, jeans, and worn leather flip-flops. But Baye had caught her off-guard. She normally hated unannounced intrusions and was surprised that Baye’s did not bother her. In fact, it pleased her. She mentally shook herself. Back to business. “I have a proposal for you.”
Baye’s wide smile seemed to brighten the already sunny day. “Really? We just met, and you’re proposing already? We haven’t even kissed yet.”
“What? No.” Heat rose from her chest to her cheeks as she whirled to face Baye, even though she couldn’t meet her gaze. The strange communication horrified her. “Of course not. That would hardly be proper.”
Baye clasped Teague’s forearm. “I was kidding.” Her laughter bubbled up even though she put her free hand to her mouth to stifle it. “You should see the panic on your face.” She lowered her hand and mimicked Teague, but in a poor imitation of a British accent. “That would hardly be proper.” She giggled again. “Are you British? You speak so properly sometimes that it reminds me of the Brits’ stiff upper lip.”
“I have no accent. Just because I use proper English does not mean I am British.” She pulled her arm from Baye’s grasp and glowered at her. Her lack of social skills was a sore nerve. “Most educated people speak proper English.”
Baye took several steps back, her smile faltering. “Whoa. I was not disrespecting you.”
Baye had hit on one of Teague’s biggest pet peeves. “You were not showing disrespect. It is a noun, not a verb.” Teague growled the correction. It was one of a handful of words she detested.
Baye’s smile vanished, and she returned Teague’s scowl. “It’s in the dictionary.”
“I refuse to acknowledge what the people we call scholars today add to the dictionary. They probably learned their language skills by wasting time on social media and playing video games. Those younger generations can concentrate on video games for hours but cannot focus enough to earn a college degree.”
Baye’s face was growing redder by the second. “Maybe I don’t have a wall full of college degrees like you, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid or undereducated.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I thought we might become friends. My mistake. I know you’re really smart, but I don’t need another person in my life who looks down on me.” She whirled around and headed across the pasture toward her property.
Teague stared after her, the shock of Baye’s sudden departure warring with Teague’s indignation. “Fuck.” People always made fun of her quirks. Her lack of eye contact and stilted manner of speech, refusing to use contractions, were two of the first things they usually noticed. That was why she preferred the company of her animals.
Chapter Five
What a high-and-mighty bitch.” Baye stormed into the farmhouse. “I don’t care how sexy she is, I can see now why she doesn’t have friends and lives like a recluse.”
“Who has you so worked up?”
She jumped and slapped her hand over her chest. She was sure her heart missed a few beats. She hadn’t noticed Libby seated at the dining room table with the month’s bills and receipts spread around her laptop. “Holy crap. You nearly made me have a heart attack.”
Libby snorted, her gaze never leaving the spreadsheet she was updating. “Considering all the crazy things you did when we were growing up and all the drugs you’ve smoked or ingested during your short lifetime, I seriously doubt you’ll get a heart attack from being surprised.” She looked up at Baye. “I’ll ask again—who has you so worked up?”
“Teague.”
“Who?”
“The neighbor who came to the adopt-a-thon.”
“Ah. Tall, dark, and mysterious.”
“More like stuck-up, condescending, and rude.”
“She seemed nice on Saturday.”
She took a breath…or two. “She can be, but watch out for her to explode into a raging snob.” She waved her arms about as she ranted. “She was proposing to me one minute, and then it was like I stepped on a land mine a second later. She started ranting about uneducated people and misuse of the English language.”
Libby’s eyebrows shot up. “She proposed to you? I thought Saturday was the first time you’d met.”
She shook her head. “Yes…no. Argh. Saturday was the first time we met. This afternoon, she said she had a proposal for me, and I teased her that it was too soon since she hadn’t even kissed me yet. I meant it as a teasing invitation to kiss me.”
“You wanted her to kiss you?”
Baye made a dismissive sound. “Who wouldn’t? You’ve seen her. She’s walking, talking sex on a stick.”
“She’s tall for a woman, but I’ll admit she is attractive in a lesbian sort of way.” Libby was decidedly heterosexual but had no problem with Baye’s preference for women.
Baye hesitated but didn’t want to get into a discussion about what “lesbian sort of way” meant. “Instead of kissing me, she got all flustered and said a proposal after knowing each other such a short time—and I quote—‘would hardly be proper.’ Then I made small joke about her sort of formal way of speaking, hoping she would relax again.”
“But she didn’t?”
“She turned into an attack dog—not literally—and said educated people knew how to speak proper English. I said I didn’t mean to disrespect her, and she corrected my grammar.”
“Oh, no. I know how much you hate that.”
She drew herself up to stand stiff and straight with her nose tilted upward. “Disrespect is a noun, not a verb,” she said in a snobby imitation of Teague.
“What did you say?”
“I told her that just because I didn’t have a college degree and she had”—Baye searched her memory of the afternoon—“like four advanced degrees, didn’t mean I was uneducated.”
