Chapter 5

ELIZABETH

After placing the order, I bring up Claire's number . One click and I can call her back. I stare at the screen so long it again goes to sleep mode.

I placed the phone on my dresser and head to do the chores.

Oscar lifts his head from where he sleeps by the fire. "Don't get up," I tell him. "Just rest."

I pull my chore scrub pants over my sweats to keep the barn dust off them and zip my chore coat over my hoodie. My muck boots sit by the door to the barn, and I step into them gingerly. I probably should do something about the cut on my foot, but ignore the pain for now.

My brain is attached to the cabin by an enclosed porch. One door out of the cabin, then a few steps inside a glassed-in room, and another door to the barn. This is my favourite feature of my tiny farm. I can come and go from the barn without actually going outside. During pleasant weather, I open the glass doors. Icy wind blasts snow against the glass now. In my previous life, I used to yell Dave I didn't mind doing the chores, I just hated walking to the barn in the cold and wind. We'd tease that if we ever won the lottery, I'd have tunnels built to the barn so I could stay warm. The proceeds from selling our farm combined with Dave's life insurance wasn't the lottery I wanted to win.

My two pigs, Flora and Sam, jump from their sleep as I enter the barn. They eagerly push against the fence of their enclosure, dinner has arrived. Their silly antics bring a reluctant smile to my face. I pat Flora on her head.

"You're getting big, girl," I admire her swelling belly. "Not too much longer now until those babies come." I squash a sliver of concern at the upcoming litter. I've never had a pig deliver a little before, and hadn't planned on it this time.

I bought the pair of pigs off a man on Craigslist. He'd assured me Sam had been neutered. I didn't know much about pigs at that time. I just knew I wanted something to keep me company, a reason to get up in the morning. And Dave loved pigs.

The price had been low enough for the pair of KuneKunes, and the man agreed to meet me at the gate at the end of my long driveway. He'd handed the two squalling piglets over, and I handed him the cash. He didn't ask questions, and neither did I .

Looking at Flora's swollen belly, I should have.

Sam pushes his long nose against my hand, reminding me why I came to the barn. I scoop out their food and toss it in their pen. They push each other and grunt as they dig in.

After checking the heated waterers, another investment well worth it, I feed the chickens in the corner coop. Everyone is fed and tucked in for the night. I turn off the overhead lights and open the door to the enclosed porch, thoughts of my own dinner on my mind.

Something clatters at the far end of the barn. I freeze and listen. A shuffling sound follows the clatter.

I flip the light back on. The John Deere Gator sits in the far corner of the barn, close to the sliding door for easy access. My orange Kubota tractor sits in front of it. Between the two, something moves.

Flora and Sam snuffle at their food, oblivious to the intruder.

I take cautious steps towards the equipment, my nerves on high alert.

Automatically, I reach for my hip, although my gun is safely locked up at Claire's. Still, the habit dies hard.

Crouching how behind the fence's paltry protection, I peer around the corner.

A sudden blur of black springs onto the seat of my Kubota.

"Shit," I exclaim and jump away from the cat with a pounding heart and shaking hands.

The black eyes looks at me curiously, hungrily, his yellow eyes intend on my movements, ready to run of necessary. Ashamed of my reaction to the stray cat, I stand straight.

"Better not let Oscar see you in here," Ibtell the cat. Oscar has chased strays away several times before.

He protects "his" animals, the pigs, the chickens, bit draws the line at cats.

The cats jumps from the tractor to the closest fence post and meows in question. "Stay here," I tell him.

I hurry to the fridge in the cabin and grab a container of leftover mashed potatoes. Oscar eyes me curiously but lays back down.

In the barn, I sit on the feed bin, light a cigarette, and watch the cat devour the cold potatoes. My heart hurts for him, alone and hungry and scared in the cold. When the food is gone, the cat looks up and takes a cautious step.

I reach to pet him, but he skitters off. "I get it," I tell him. "I don't trust people either."

Lightning another cigarette, I sit in the barn. Sam and Flora settle down, their bodies pressed together as they sleep. The chickens have long since given in to the dark and sleep on their perches. At the far end of the barn, the cast sits on the hood of the Gator, his belly full.

Even with my new cat friend, my heart feels as empty as the mashed potato bowl.

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