A Family for the Farmer (9 page)

Emily leaned even closer. “You're right. Why didn't I see that?”

“Most people wouldn't have. You've got a good eye, son. The legs are doubled back. We'll have to pull them forward.” He rummaged in the medical kit he'd left behind in the straw.

Phoebe was standing in a corner looking uneasy, two fingers in her mouth. “Eww,” she said softly, and he turned back to see that the sac had ruptured.

Cherry was putting him through his paces this time. “Okay. We're on the clock now,” he said aloud. “This baby needs to come into the world fast, or she'll suffocate.”

“It's a girl?” Phoebe asked excitedly. “The twins are going to be one boy and one girl like me and Paul, Mama!”

“Sure looks like it,” Abel said, grinning.

“You think so?” Emily sounded skeptical. “How can you possibly tell at this point?”

“Well, I'm guessing, but that's a pretty slender little nose there. I'd say we're looking at a doe this time.” He pulled a pair of plastic gloves over his hands and squirted a lubricating gel on his fingers.

“What are you doing?” Phoebe had drawn closer again.

“I'm going to pull her little legs forward so she can be born,” Abel answered. He carefully hooked his finger behind one of the forelegs at the shoulder and pulled it gently forward until the tiny hoof was pointing in the right direction.

“Yay!” Phoebe clapped. “That's one!”

“One to go.” Abel fought a smile as he went after the other leg. Phoebe clapped again and cheered when the second little hoof was pointed outward.

Abel gave up and let the grin spread across his face. He'd helped Cherry with several tricky births over the years, but he'd never had a cheering section before. It was kind of nice.

He could get used to it.

With the legs in the right position, the birth went fast, and soon a little doe was nuzzling next to her brother. Cherry struggled to her feet, anxious to look her new babies over.

“Here.” Abel handed Paul an empty feed pan. “Go out and put some feed in this dish for Cherry, and then you'd better pour the rest of the food in the trough outside for the others.”

“Why don't you go and help him, Phoebe? Mr. Abel and I just need to clean up and then we'll head back to the house.” Emily was already gathering up the supplies he'd strewn all over the straw and packing them neatly back into the medical kit.

“I'll wait here until Cherry passes the afterbirth,” Abel said, “and then I'll head home myself.”

Emily groaned. “I forgot about that part.” She swiped her hair out of her face with one hand, leaving a generous smear of dirt on her forehead. She looked as wilted as a pretty little rag doll with only about half her stuffing in.

“You can take the twins and head back like you said. I'll wait. It can take an hour or two, and the little ones are tired out.”

“I can't ask you to do that.” Emily's voice was quiet, and he noticed that her hands were shaking as she picked up the bottle of iodine and placed it back in the bag. “You've already done more than you should have. I'll manage. Just tell me what to do.”

Not this again. “You're not asking me. I'm offering. Don't be bullheaded, Emily. There's already been enough of that for one night.”

She froze and tilted her head to glare up at him. “I'm not being bullheaded. I'm being responsible.”

“That may be what you're calling it, but I don't think that's what it is.”

“Really?” The chin tilted up another notch. “So, what would you call it, then?”

He waited a beat and then answered her quietly, “Fear. I think you're scared to death.”

She stared at him, and he saw something shift in her expression. She went from looking about two inches away from blowing up to looking about two inches away from tears. Abel felt a tickle of uneasiness. All in all, he'd rather she blew up.

“Mama?” A worried voice spoke from the door, but neither of them looked in that direction. Their eyes were locked on each other.

“I'll be right there, Paul.” Emily's voice cracked a little, and Abel felt guilty. She'd obviously had a tough day, and she was stressed and tired. He shouldn't make things worse.

“There are no strings attached here, Emily. This is nothing but an old friend offering you a hand. You might better take it.”

“Mama?” Paul's voice sounded a little more urgent.

“Just a minute, Paul.” Emily swallowed and looked down at her hands. “It's not that I don't appreciate the offer, Abel, but...”

“No more
buts
tonight.” He offered her an encouraging smile. “Save those for tomorrow. Go on. Take your kids and put them in the bed. I'll handle the rest of this.” He could see her wavering, which proved just how tired she really was.

“Mama!”

Emily made an exasperated noise. “Paul, you're interrupting. We're about to go home.” She got stiffly to her feet, winced and gave in. “Mr. Abel is going to finish up with Cherry so that I can get you two in the bed.”

“That's good, but, Mama?”

“What?”

“Before we go to bed, I think we're going to need some more flashlights.”

Emily and Abel both frowned. “Why?” she asked her son suspiciously.

“Because Phoebe forgot to close the gate when we went to get the food. All the goats got out.”

Chapter Five

“I
s this where Mr. Abel lives?” Phoebe spoke from the backseat. “Wow!”

Emily parked the car and stared. Wow, indeed. She'd only been to Abel's home once, when her grandmother delivered some chicken soup because Abel was down with a bad summer cold. Abel's father had been living then, and Emily remembered the ramshackle log cabin looking stark and unkempt, surrounded by a generous litter of bottles and trash. She also remembered the tightness of her grandmother's lips as she'd maneuvered her pickup truck back down the slope of the mountain.

Things had changed.

Before, the small cabin had sat like a scab on the mountain, unattractive and out of place. Now it looked as if it had grown up naturally there, as much a part of the hillside as the pines that surrounded it. The yard was spotless, and a meandering path of flat stones led the way to the front porch, which sheltered a man-sized rocking chair and a small table. Just one chair, Emily noticed. Abel must not be much for company.

Sparkling new nine-paned windows had replaced the cracked ones, and the round curve of the logs gleamed a warm golden brown in the dappled sunlight. As she opened the car door and stepped out, she could smell the tang of the dry pine needles under her feet and hear the birds trilling in the treetops. The cool air beneath the bristly pine canopy was heavy with peace.

Under Abel's care the Whitlock place had gone from being an eyesore to the kind of cabin city people spent big money to vacation in. Deep down Emily wasn't really surprised. Abel seemed to have a gift for coaxing calm out of chaos.

She took a fresh grip on the foil-covered plate she held in her hands and smiled at the twins, who had clambered out of the car to stand beside her. “All right, guys. Let's go have a talk with Mr. Abel.”

Up on the lofty porch, she knocked on the dark green door and waited. Nothing happened.

“Maybe he's not here.” Phoebe sounded disappointed. The prospect of seeing Abel had kept Emily's daughter bouncing happily in the backseat during the whole of the short drive over.

“His truck is here,” Paul argued. “I saw it parked around back.”

“Well, we'll go around back, then.” Emily hoped Abel was home. She wasn't sure she could screw up her courage to do this a second time.

Behind the cabin they discovered another small log building, and Emily could faintly hear the strains of country music coming from it. This time their knock was answered.

Abel stood in the doorway, the front of his shirt dusted over with tiny tendrils of wood, a chisel in one hand. At the sight of them his expression warmed, his lips crooking upward in his easy, lopsided smile.

“Well, now! Look who's come to visit. I had a feeling this day was going to bring me something special.”

“I hope we're not interrupting your work,” Emily began before Phoebe broke in.

“Mama brought apple bread for you to say thank you for helping us with the goats last night. And I'm supposed to 'pologize for letting the goats get out. I already did, but Mama said to tell you again because you had to chase them for
hours
.”

Abel flicked Phoebe's nose with a gentle finger. “It's all right, sweetheart. Gates are tricky things sometimes. I've left a few open myself, and so has your mama.” His eyes twinkled over at Emily, reminding her silently of the many times he'd had to round up animals
she'd
accidently let out. She flushed, and Abel grinned. “So, apple bread? Is that what I smell?” His glance dropped down to the plate Emily held in her hands and then came back up to her face.

She nodded, hating the blush she felt brightening her cheeks. What was it about this man that made her act like a self-conscious schoolgirl? “I hope you like it.”

“I'm sure I will. I've never had apple bread before, but it sounds like something that would go good with a cup of coffee.”

“You've never had it before, because Mama just made it up this morning.” Paul tilted his head to peer around Abel into the workshop. “She's all the time making up new recipes. Are you making something? Can we see?”

“Paul.” Emily was mortified. “Mr. Abel's busy.”

“Sure you can. Come on in.”

Like the cabin, Abel's workshop was neat and bright, its walls studded with shelves of tools and carvings in various stages of completion. There were a lot of them, and the place had a professional air to it. Emily blinked. She hadn't realized that he took his carving so seriously.

“We won't stay long. We don't want to bother you,” she said.

“I'm ready for a break. You've timed it just right.” Abel tousled Paul's hair as he walked past the boy to his workbench. Emily watched as Abel quietly gathered up a set of sharp-looking chisels and set them carefully on a shelf out of the twins' reach. “Now, then. Look around all you like.”

“But don't touch anything,” Emily cautioned quickly.

“Don't worry about that. My carvings are meant to be handled. Phoebe and Paul can't hurt them.”

“I hope you're right, but we'd better keep an eye on them just the same. Phoebe means well, but her enthusiasm gets the better of her a lot of the time. And if you turn your back on Paul, he'll be taking every machine in here apart to see how it works. Unfortunately he's not always successful at putting them back together.” She was babbling.

“They'll be all right,” Abel replied easily. “They're good, smart kids. They're welcome here anytime.”

“Oooh, Mama,” Phoebe called in an awed voice from the far corner of the workshop. “Look at this!”

Her daughter was standing in front of a life-size carving of a beautiful white-tailed buck. Emily felt Abel gently take the plate of apple bread out of her hands as she walked over to get a closer look.

The buck had been carved out of a single massive piece of wood, and he stood frozen on his pedestal in an alert pose as if he had just lifted his antlered head at an unexpected sound. Emily didn't know anything about wood carving, but even she could see how Abel had skillfully incorporated the gnarl of the wood into the shape of his final creation. It looked so lifelike that Emily reached out to touch it, forgetting her instructions to her children. She was almost surprised when she felt cool, hard wood beneath her fingertip instead of the warmth of a living animal.

* * *

From across the room, Abel watched Emily admire his buck for several minutes. He hesitated, then finally set down the plate and crossed over to stand beside her.

“He's incredible,” Emily breathed. “I can't imagine the time this must have taken.”

“He was a little troublesome,” Abel agreed with a wry smile. “I traipsed around in the woods for months trying to catch glimpses of that particular whitetail so I could sketch him, and then the carving took close to nine months of steady work.”

“I see it paid off.” Emily indicated the huge blue ribbon tacked on to the side of the pedestal. “First place at the Georgia National Fair? That's impressive.”

“Yeah, well.” Abel felt embarrassed. “I'm generally not much for contests, but your grandma badgered me into it.” He fingered the satin ribbon gently. “I guess you think it's kind of prideful keeping it tacked up like that, but nobody comes in here much but me. It's the first thing I ever won.”

“You have every right to be proud of it, Abel. It's wonderful!”

He watched uncomfortably as she read the newspaper article he'd pinned up next to the ribbon. He'd kept that, too, because it was the first time a Whitlock had ever made the front page of the
Pine Valley Herald
for anything that wasn't a felony. God had done some mighty things in Abel's life, and this little corner reminded him of them. That was why he'd held on to the buck, even when people offered him crazy money for it. Whenever Abel looked at it, he felt a wave of gratitude and a fresh determination to use whatever talent he had to draw people's attention to the beauty God had sprinkled all around them. He had no words to explain that to Emily, though, and he worried that she'd think he was stuck on himself keeping all this out on display.

But that wasn't the only reason he'd just as soon she didn't look too hard at that article. The reporter had insisted on a photo of Abel standing next to the carving. Miss Sadie had hooted when she saw it. “The next time somebody points a camera at you, sonny, smile! You look like somebody just poked you with a stick.”

“Look, Mama! It's our cow!” Abel felt a surge of relief as Phoebe called from across the room. “Come see!”

He followed as Emily walked over to the shelf her daughter was pointing to. When she saw what was on it, she glanced up at him and smiled. The animals of Goosefeather Farm marched along in miniature, one after the other. Beulah was there tossing her head, Glory had her neck and wings outstretched and Newman the tiny rooster had his feathers ruffled out. The rough shape of a goat was laid on its side next to the others, unfinished.

“I was making this set for your grandmother's birthday.” He picked up the incomplete carving, weighing it in his hand. “I haven't had the heart to work on it since...lately.”

Emily shook her head slowly. “Oh, Abel. It's too bad. Grandma would have loved them.”

“Can I play with the little animals?” Phoebe asked hopefully.

“They aren't toys,” Emily began, but Abel interrupted her smoothly.

“Of course you can, sweetheart. Here.” He gathered the carvings up and handed them to Phoebe. She plopped happily down on the floor and began to chatter to herself as she moved the animals around.

“If Pheebs can play with that, can I play with this chess set?” Paul looked longingly at the intricately carved board and pieces that were set enticingly at his eye level.

“Paul just started learning how to play,” Emily explained with a nervous smile.

“Sure. Help yourself. Your mom and I are going to have a cup of coffee, and I want to try some of this bread that smells so good.”

“We won't be long,” Emily repeated as he led the way over to a little table with a coffeemaker. The carafe was already half-full of inky liquid, and he took two of his mismatched mugs from the nearby cupboard and poured them each a cup.

“Stay as long as you like. You're not bothering me,” he said, motioning for her to sit down on the bench that was pushed up against the log wall. He peeled up the foil that covered the plate and took a piece of the apple bread.

It tasted every bit as wonderful as it smelled. He closed his eyes and shook his head in appreciation as he chewed. “This is good. Really, really good.”

“Thanks.” The compliment seemed to settle her nerves. “I'm glad you like it. Like Paul said, making up recipes is kind of a hobby of mine.”

“If this is what you call a hobby, I think you should go pro.” He took another big bite.

“I could say the same thing about you. I mean, I've seen you whittling, but I had no idea—” she gestured widely “—about all this. Your carvings are beautiful.”

“I'm glad you like them.”

“Do you ever sell your work?”

“Now and again,” he replied evasively.

“Maybe you'd sell me one of your small pieces. I'd like to take something back to Atlanta with me.”

Now, why was she spoiling a perfectly pleasant morning bringing that thought up? “I'll not take your money. If you see anything you'd like to have, take it as my gift, or I could make you something special if you want.” Instantly he knew just what that would be. A slender branch of dogwood caught in blossom.

“That'd be nice if you're sure you don't mind,” she said shyly. “But just something small. You know you should definitely find a market for these pieces.”

“Like I said, I sell a few things here and there.” Abel took another big bite of bread and hoped Emily wouldn't ask any more questions.

The truth was, his business was booming. He had more orders on his computer than he could fill in a year's time, and no matter how much he raised his prices, more commissions kept pouring in. Abel wasn't sure exactly how to handle that or how he felt about carving for money instead of for the joy of it.

It almost seemed dishonest to him to take so much money for something he loved to do, something he honestly couldn't help doing. When he picked up the right piece of wood, he saw the finished piece curled inside it, and he just couldn't rest easy until he'd chipped it free. The fact that people were willing to pay hundreds, even thousands, of dollars for his work was a genuine puzzlement to him.

“Well, we're taking up too much of your time. I'm sure you're wondering why I came,” Emily began in a businesslike tone.

Abel smiled at her. He'd designed this workshop to catch the best and brightest of the available light, and the sunlight was now highlighting her hair, making its strands sparkle warmly. It traced the curve of her cheek and accentuated her features like only natural light could do. Unfiltered sunlight could be a harsh critic, but it loved Emily.

“No, I'm not wondering. I'm just glad you're here.” It was true, he realized. Opening his workshop door to find Emily and her children on his doorstep had been as sweet and unexpected as finding a bluebird nest in a tangle of brambles.

She offered him an uncertain smile. “That's nice of you to say, especially considering how I've been acting.” She firmed up her lips and looked him straight in the eye. “I came up here because I owe you an apology, Abel.”

He shook his head. “No, you don't.”

“I do. I realized it when Phoebe let the goats out. You couldn't have been any nicer to her about all that even though it took you forever to round them all back up. And you've been nothing but nice to me since I got here, and I've been fighting you at every turn. It's just...” She took a deep breath and forged on. “It's a little hard for me to trust people.”