The Farmer's Wife Read online

  “Never mind. I’m not going.”

  “Mom. We’ve been over this. You’re going.” Kim hung up before she had to argue anymore.

  “Your mom okay?”

  “Fine. She just hasn’t had a check up in several light-years. I’m going to make sure she gets one. Today.”

  “All right. We can finish this later.”

  That sounded like a threat, even though Brian leaned against the counter with lazy grace and smiled with more ease than Kim had seen in him since coming back.

  For a moment she was struck by how handsome he was, and the familiar longing consumed her. Not that she lusted for him only because he was beautiful. He was strong and sweet, responsible and funny—everything she missed. The problem was she not only lusted, she loved.

  “Later,” she echoed. A goodbye, not a promise. “I—I’ll get groceries on the way back. What do you like?”

  “Surprise me.”

  How could he be so nonchalant? How could he behave as if nothing had changed? As if what she’d just revealed meant as little to him as what they’d for supper last night? Could that truly be the case? And if so, what did it mean? Could she allow it to mean anything?

  Kim stepped onto the porch and stopped dead as Ba bucked through the yard, Precious clinging to her back.

  “Hey!” she shouted. “Drop that cat!”

  “It wasn’t Ba’s idea.” Brian appeared at the screen door. “Precious jumped on her.”

  “Make them stop.”

  Brian squinted at the cavorting sheep. “Yeah, right.”

  “I mean it! Someone’s going to get hurt.”

  Oh, dear God, she sounded like her mother. When had that started?

  “I think they’re playing,” Brian said, and his voice held a note of wonder.

  Set to charge down the steps, grab the ewe by the ears and rescue her baby, Kim hesitated.

  Ba stopped leaping. Her sides heaved and her head hung low. She appeared done in. Precious could have jumped down and been away. Instead, she continued to perch on the sheep’s back, reaching forward with sheathed claws to bat at Ba’s twitching ear. Ba folded one leg underneath herself and leaned forward.

  “Oh-oh.” Kim tensed, afraid Ba meant to flip the kitten onto the ground and pulverize her.

  But the ewe lay down; the kitten tumbled off, then promptly curled into a ball between Ba’s outstretched hooves and fell asleep. Ba nuzzled the orange-white-and-gray speckled fur. Kim had never seen her behave with such gentleness and care.

  “They’re in love,” Brian murmured.

  Kim couldn’t bring herself to look at him, terrified he’d be looking at her with the love he spoke of so freely in his eyes.

  Instead, Kim did what she always did when she was afraid. But this time she ran to her mother.

  An hour later, Eleanor left the doctor’s office with a prescription, her daughter and the truth.

  Life as she knew it was over.

  “I was right, wasn’t I?” Kim held out her coat. “You are.”

  “Shh,” Eleanor warned, and glanced at Señora Stonefield. The woman listened avidly, as did the rest of the packed house.

  Kim frowned and pulled her nearer the door. “The señora was here this morning.”

  “She’s here every Thursday.” Eleanor slid into her jacket.

  “Is she sick?”

  “No. She spends every Thursday in that chair. She says the place has better shows than Jerry Springer.”

  “What is it with Jerry Springer around here?” Kim muttered.

  “The winters are long.”

  Kim opened the door. Eleanor went through. They met in the hallway.

  “So I was right?” Kim pressed.

  “Yeah.”

  “I don’t understand why you’re so upset. It’s not the end of the world.”

  “It’s the end of my world.”

  “But why?”

  Eleanor shook her head and stalked away. She didn’t want to talk right now; she wanted to think.

  How was she going to tell John? What would he do? Would it be out to pasture for her? Or worse?

  Kim climbed into the driver’s seat. She appeared concerned. The novelty of that was outweighed by uncertainty, If Kim was worried about her, Eleanor must be behaving more strangely than even she was aware of.

  Making no move to start the car, Kim turned toward her. “Explain what’s so terrible about menopause, Mom. I really want to know.”

  “Besides feeling crazy half the time?”

  “The meds should take care of that. You’ll feel good as new in no time at all.”

  “But I won’t be good as new.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m defective and old.”

  “Old? You’re fifty. These days that’s middle-aged.” Kim shook her head. “And defective? Where do you get this stuff? Menopause is a natural occurrence.”

  “Your father isn’t going to think so.”

  “What does this have to do with Daddy?”

  “When cows can’t have calves, what does he do with them?”

  Kim rolled her eyes. “You’re not a cow.”

  “No, I’m an ellie-phant.”

  “You know, I thought the joke was in poor taste myself, but let it go already.”

  Eleanor didn’t bother to dignify that with a response. “I wouldn’t be surprised if he goes out and finds a younger model the minute he hears.”

  “You’re being irrational. Daddy loves you.”

  “He told you this?”

  Kim’s brow creased. “Well, not in so many words.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  “You’ve lived with the man for over thirty years, had six children, and you don’t think he loves you?”

  “I think he did.”

  “I think we better get that prescription filled on the way home so you can start tonight.”

  Eleanor’s lips tightened. “You’re saying I’m crazy.”

  “If you think Daddy doesn’t love you, then yeah, you’re crazy.”

  “You know he hasn’t touched me in months?”

  Kim clapped her hands over her ears. “Too much information.”

  Eleanor reached over and pulled Kim’s palms away from her head. For an instant she felt like a mommy, and the longing made her dizzy. Would she forever miss what she could never have again?

  “You wanted to talk about this. Your friend’s mom thought you should know all about menopause, and she’s probably right. But let’s talk about how it feels to have one of the most important things in your life taken away and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Kim gave her a wary look. “What’s been taken away?”

  “One of my greatest joys was having kids and raising them. I was good at it.”

  Or at least I was until I messed up with you, Eleanor thought.

  But she kept her mouth shut. One thing the two of them never discussed was what had gone wrong between them. Kim had a way of shutting down and running off whenever things got sticky. No doubt another black mark on Eleanor’s maternal scorecard.

  Silence fell between them. Eleanor laid her head back against the seat and closed her eyes. “No one needs me anymore, and now no one ever will.”

  “You believe that the only thing you have to offer is being someone’s mother?”

  Eleanor didn’t bother to open her eyes. “That’s all I’ve ever had to offer, and now it’s done.”

  “You’re really pissing me off, Mom.”

  Her eyes snapped open. She glared at Kim, but her daughter had always been beyond any evil eye Eleanor could manage.

  “This is why I never wanted to learn what you had to teach me,” Kim muttered. “You thought all there was to life was being someone’s wife or mother.”

  “And you thought being a wife and mother was a life sentence and not a life.”

  Kim flinched. “That’s not true.”

  “What is true?” Then, because Kim’s lips tightened muti
nously, Eleanor put a hand atop her daughter’s and urged, “Tell me. Please. I want to understand.”

  Kim searched Eleanor’s face. What she saw there must have convinced her that her mother did want to know the truth—even if it hurt. The time had come to settle a few old questions.

  “I felt pushed—into staying here, living the same life as you had. Even in school, girls were cheerleaders and not basketball players. We took home ec, not shop. We were supposed to become teachers, nurses or secretaries, never professors, doctors or lawyers.” She spread her hands. “Telling me I couldn’t only made me certain that I could. Telling me I should only made me certain I shouldn’t. I’m sure having five older brothers had something to do with my attitude. But I wanted more, or at least the chance to try.”

  “I didn’t mean to push you. It was just . . . I’d dreamed of having a little girl for a long, long time. I wanted to share what I knew. It was one of the few things I had to give.”

  “And I didn’t want to be like you,” Kim murmured. “Working as hard as any field hand, so many kids, so close together. You were always tired, forever busy.”

  “I was a mom. It’s part of the job description.”

  Kim took a deep breath, hesitated.

  “Tell me,” Eleanor insisted. “It’s time we got this out. Both of us.”

  Kim gave one sharp nod of agreement. “Every time I fell, you told me I was too big to cry. When I asked to be rocked, you had somewhere else to be. Whenever I hugged you, you always pulled away first.”

  Every word was like a needle to Eleanor’s already sore heart. But she couldn’t deny what she knew to be true.

  “I was overwhelmed. Excited to have a girl, but a sixth child . . .” Eleanor sighed. “I have so few memories of when you were a baby. I was hanging on by my fingernails then. By the time I felt more in control, you were out of diapers and I wondered what had happened. The proverbial, Where did the time go?”

  She shook her head. “You were different from your brothers. The way I handled them didn’t work with you. When I held the boys, they pushed me away. So I learned not to hold on too long. If I wasn’t on the ball, they rolled over me. I learned to be quick, get ahead, get on top of things or I was sorry. But I ended up being sorry anyway.”

  “Why?”

  “I wasn’t the mother you wanted.”

  “I wasn’t any prize of a daughter, either.”

  “I thought so.”

  Kim laughed. “You did not. I was a pain in the ass, Mom. I know it—you know it. All of Gainsville knows it.”

  “Well, if we’re telling the truth . . .”

  They shared a smile.

  “None of us gets the mother we want,” Kim said. “But if we try, we might get the one we need.”

  Kim held out a hand. Eleanor took it, then pulled her daughter into her arms and held on tight. She almost forgot her life was over, because something wonderful had just begun.

  The food began to arrive five minutes after Kim left. He was surprised it had taken this long. News usually traveled faster than Amtrak in Gainsville.

  Casseroles, banana bread, Jell-O molds. Cake, cookies, pie. There was no way Brian and Kim could eat everything the ladies of the town brought by.

  Along with the food came offers of help from the men. Beau Radly would spread manure. Jerry Potter could pick up and deliver feed. Lou Ferrenge would send his son, Stew, to do whatever Brian could think of. Patrick Sopol planned to spell Dean at the milking whenever Dean needed him.

  Considering Brian had pretty much kept to himself ever since he’d taken over the farm, he couldn’t fathom the outpouring of generosity. He was still scratching his head when Dean showed up.

  “It’s called being neighborly, moron. If you weren’t such a social reject, you wouldn’t have to ask.”

  “Takes one to know one.”

  “Gee, did you need all day to think that up?”

  Brian would have punched him in the arm, just to be neighborly, but in his current condition a friendly tap could cause serious damage.

  Then Dean’s dad climbed out of the cab of Dean’s pickup and all Brian’s humor vanished beneath the wave of guilt that overwhelmed him every time he saw John Luchetti.

  Dean’s grin disappeared, as well. “Dad wanted to come over and talk.”

  A chill ran down Brian’s back. What could Kim’s dad want to talk about? He’d never wanted to talk before—a fact for which Brian had been eternally grateful. He was just lucky John hadn’t beaten the crap out of him on principle after he and Kim had run away.

  Panicked, Brian watched Dean desert him for the barn. John crossed the yard, climbed the steps and took a seat on the porch just as Ba skidded around the corner, her new best friend on her back.

  John stared at the animals, then raised one brow in Brian’s direction. “Cat jockey?”

  Brian snorted. “Maybe. They seem to like each other, and since Ba doesn’t like much—” he shrugged “—I decided to ignore them.”

  “Your farm has always been interesting, Riley. I’ll give you that.”

  Brian wasn’t sure what to make of “interesting,” so he ignored that, too.

  Ba trotted over and butted Brian in the hip. When he tried to rub between her eyes, Precious attacked his cast, then fell on her head. Ba immediately lay down so the kitten could climb back on.

  “Well, if that isn’t the darnedest thing,” John muttered. “I’ve never seen a sheep like that.”

  “You and me both.”

  “You could probably sell her for a pretty penny.”

  “Sell her?”

  “Well, you aren’t going to eat her, are you? I know we’re farmers, but I’ve always drawn the line at eating pets.”

  Brian stared at John wide-eyed. “Eat Ba?”

  “Baaa!”

  John blinked. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think Barbara there understands what we’re talking about.”

  Brian glanced at the sheep, who appeared to be staring at him with reproach. “I didn’t say it,” he whispered.

  Ba stuck her nose in the air, then trotted off toward the barn, taking Precious with her.

  John patted the pocket of his shirt, glanced around as if searching for someone, then withdrew a cigarette. “You don’t care if I smoke.”

  The words weren’t a question, but Brian answered anyway. “Uh, no, sir. But—”

  John squinted at him through the haze of smoke he’d already exhaled.

  “No, sir,” Brian repeated.

  “Take a load off,” John offered, as if this were his house and not Brian’s.

  Brian did as he was told. No sense avoiding the inevitable, or making the man any angrier than he already was. Though to be honest, John didn’t look mad. He looked . . . peaceful, content, darned near joyous, in fact, as he sucked on his cigarette and blew smoke rings at the afternoon sky.

  The weather was fine—doubly so for October in Illinois. The sun shone brightly in a sky of purest blue, and the breeze that had held a chill that morning did so no longer.

  “Don’t suppose you’ve got anything to drink around here.”

  “Uh, sure. But I have a hard time playing host with these.” He held up his casts.

  “Go Bears,” John said dryly.

  Brian spread his arms. “It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

  “It always does.” John got up. “I’ll be right back.”

  Seconds later he returned with two bottles of beer and handed one to Brian. Brian didn’t think John was supposed to drink either, but he wasn’t about to mention it.

  “Thanks.” He took a long swig, managing the bottle with some difficulty, then he took another and waited.

  John seemed perfectly content to drink, smoke and stare at the sky. So Brian let him until he could stand the silence no longer.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Damn good right now. You?”

  Nervous. Guilty. Embarrassed.

  “Fine,” Brian said quickly.
>
  “We could play checkers or cards, but—” John tipped his beer to indicate Brian’s casts.

  “Yeah. I seem to knock things over more than I pick them up.”

  “Well, that’s what Kim’s here for. Where is she, anyway?”

  “She took Mrs. Riley to the OB-GYN.”

  As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Brian wanted to snatch them back, because John sat up so fast his chair nearly tipped over, and he spilled beer on his shoe.

  “What?”

  “Uh, I thought you knew.”

  Duh, his mind mocked, obviously not.

  “I knew they went somewhere, which I thought was weird, considering. But with my wife lately— he shook his head “—weird has taken on a whole new meaning. What did Kim say?”

  “Just a checkup. That’s all.”

  “Ellie—I mean Eleanor—” John rolled his eyes.

  Brian wasn’t sure what was up with that, so he kept quiet.

  “She never goes for a checkup.”

  “That’s what Kim said.”

  John took a hard pull on his cigarette, which he’d smoked down to the filter. He didn’t seem to mind—or even notice. “If it’s only a checkup, then why did Kim drive her there?”

  “To spend some time together?”

  John snorted and got to his feet. He flicked the remains of his cigarette over the railing. The butt landed on the autumn brown grass and began to smolder. Brian didn’t have the guts to mention that, either.

  “Tell my son I borrowed his truck.”

  Alarmed, Brian jumped up. “But—”

  “I’ll be back. I’ve just got to go into town a minute.”

  Brian’s mouth opened, then closed. He’d been sitting here waiting for the explosion with his name on it, expecting it, even wanting it, because then he’d no longer have to fear the tongue-lashing or worse that he’d deserved for eight years. But John appeared in no hurry to give it to him, and Brian couldn’t wait any longer.

  “I thought you wanted to talk,” he blurted.

  John stopped, then slowly turned. “And I thought you broke your wrists and not your fat head.”

  Being used to Dean’s idea of affection, Brian didn’t even blink at the sarcasm. “Sir?” he asked.

  “Enough of that ‘sir’ stuff already. It’s John. And we’ve been talking since I got here.”