Thicker than Blood

  May chuckled. “Can only imagine her version of the story.”

  They spent a few minutes searching the fields for cows needing assistance, and May explained how they kept the cattle corralled in the fields closer to the house during calving season.

  Christy didn’t know how they could keep this schedule up for two months. May must be exhausted.

  “It’s funny,” Christy said. “Neither of us got married.”

  May directed her spotlight toward a bunch of cattle huddled under some cottonwoods. “Not many guys could put up with me.”

  Christy thought of Vince. In the beginning of their relationship she’d imagined he might be the one. She used to lay awake at night daydreaming about what it would be like to spend the rest of her life with him. The feeling was all too short lived.

  “So you were never engaged or anything?” Christy asked.

  “Nah. I haven’t dated much since I’ve been here.”

  “But don’t you ever wish you had a guy in your life?”

  Her sister shrugged. “Don’t think about it too much, really. I’m so fulfilled here, and frankly I don’t have time for that kind of stuff.”

  “What about Jim?”

  May laughed. “What about him?”

  “Seems like a nice guy.”

  Her sister laughed again. “He’s like a brother. And I’m his boss.”

  “Hey, you never know.”

  “No, I do know.” May glanced over at her, a little more color in her cheeks. “I don’t want this to sound weird, but knowing I’m loved by God . . . that’s all I need.”

  Christy gave her an incredulous look.

  “No, really,” May said. “Think about it. How many guys do you know who’d love you no matter what you looked like or what you did? Even on bad hair days.”

  They both laughed. Christy thought of Vince again and how she was always trying to please him. No matter how hard she tried, he’d still criticize her. One day she wore too much makeup, the next day when she adjusted the application, too little. Even dyeing her hair for him wasn’t enough.

  “I kept thinking years ago,” May continued, “if He loved me enough to die for me, then I could trust Him with my life. Does that make sense?”

  It was Christy’s turn to shrug. Yeah, it made sense for people like May and Aunt Edna. They hadn’t screwed up their lives like she had.

  “What do you think about God?”

  She decided to be honest. “I don’t. Not if I can help it.”

  “He loves you. You do know that, right?”

  “That’s awfully easy for you to say. But fifteen years hasn’t gone by without . . . In case you haven’t noticed, I’ve changed.”

  May backed off, waiting a few seconds before answering. “I’ve changed too. Remember when we were talking about Aunt Edna rubbing off on me? Well, she’s the one who showed me all this. I always thought you had to be a saint for God to love you, which I’m definitely not, but I found out that isn’t true.”

  Good old Aunt Edna. Christy stared out the window, wanting to believe May. But her sister didn’t have all the facts. “I’ve done some awful things, and what I did to you . . .”

  May brought the truck to a stop and faced her. She started to say something, then looked away. “When you left, my heart nearly broke.”

  Christy tensed, but when May glanced over again, her eyes held no malice. “I thought I forgave you years ago, but I’ll be honest. When you showed up today, I started to wonder if I really had.”

  She couldn’t meet her sister’s eyes.

  “I don’t say that to hurt you. No matter how bitter I was, I never stopped loving you. You’ll always be my sister. We’ve got the same blood running through our veins.”

  “You loved who I was.”

  “No, I love you. And so does God.”

  Christy managed to keep from rolling her eyes. “Hard to believe. What if . . . I killed someone?” She didn’t wait for an answer, realizing that was saying too much. “I mean, what about thieves, rapists, drug dealers? What’s God think of them? He can’t love trash like that.”

  “Somehow He does.”

  “Can we please keep driving?”

  ***

  Vince shut off the TV. The hotel room went black except for the red glow of the clock beside the bed. Rolling onto his side, he stared at the empty pillow next to his head. If Christy were lying beside him, he would reach out and rest his hand on her warm back relishing that she was his. His prize. His possession. His alone. Then sleep would come. Vince grabbed the pillow and threw it to the floor. But Christy wasn’t lying beside him, and the darkness and silence he usually cherished mocked him tonight.

  She thinks she can dump me.

  I’m alone.

  I drove her away.

  He tossed to his other side. But he would get her back. One way or another. Walker’s Feed Store had all that he needed. He thought about the supplies he’d purchased earlier today and stashed in his rented Blazer: snow boots, a pair of snowshoes, goose-down jacket, insulated hat, flashlight, batteries, rope, tarp, shovel. He was going into this prepared, for once thankful for Christy’s sloppiness. By leaving that name and address out in her car she’d made things easy for him.

  ***

  They found the heifer straining in the snow, almost hidden against the fence. It took Christy and May half an hour to lead the animal to the calving shed and get her secured in one of the stalls.

  “She’s in hard labor and making no progress,” May said. “Gotta take a look.”

  May unzipped the top half of her coveralls, tying the arms around her waist. She peeled off layers down to a long underwear shirt that had the right sleeve cut off. Pulling a plastic bottle from one of the shelves nailed to the shed’s walls, she squirted it all over her hands and right arm. Christy guessed it was disinfectant.

  With a clean rag soaked in more of the liquid, May washed the genital area of the cow who lay huffing in the straw. Kneeling behind the animal, she gently pushed her hand and arm inside the vagina.

  “It’s okay, girl,” May said, leaning into the cow, palpating with her fingers, a worried look on her face.

  Christy stood behind May, admiring her sister’s skill. She seemed to understand what the cow was thinking and was completely in tune with the animal’s pain.

  “Your arm starts to ache after a while,” May said. “Contractions are pushing against me. But I can feel the calf’s front leg is caught. No wonder it wasn’t coming. I think I can straighten it, but it’s not gonna do much good.” She struggled, slipping in the straw. Despite the cold, a sheen of sweat appeared on May’s forehead.

  Christy stepped closer. It was amazing. She couldn’t deny it. Her kid sister was bringing a new life into the world. How many people could do that?

  May pulled out her arm and stood back, seemingly unaware of the crimson strands of mucus hanging from her arm. “Push, girl, push,” she said.

  The cow obeyed, but after several contractions only the tips of the calf’s hooves were visible.

  Christy watched the animal, whose eyes were wide and distressed, her breaths coming in chugs now. There was no way she could understand what was happening. She didn’t know the pain would soon end and she’d have a new child to nourish and protect. It was her instinct to give life, no matter the cost. There were no options.

  “We’re gonna need to pull it.” May produced two chains and looped one around each of the calf’s hooves above the joint. She attached a handle that looked like the top of a shovel to each end and nodded toward Christy. “Take one.”

  “But I . . . I don’t know what to do!”

  “Just grab it!”

  She didn’t take offense at May’s sharpness but lowered herself to the straw beside May, gripping the handle. This calf’s life was now partly in her hands.

  “We’re gonna pull with her contractions,” May said. “On my word, okay? Pull . . . now.”

  Christy tried to copy May, wh
o used her foot and pushed against the cow’s rump for leverage.

  “A little harder.”

  Christy leaned back, using her weight, and she felt some give from the calf. Slowly the legs slid farther out of the vagina. A white nose appeared. She smiled when she saw it. “It’s coming!”

  “One more, mama,” May urged the cow. “Give us another one. Good girl. Chris, get ready.”

  When the contraction came, she gave it her all, gritting her teeth. The head appeared. Then, in one smooth motion, the calf was lying at their feet in a steaming heap of fur and afterbirth. She stared at the helpless pile waiting for it to move. Christy looked at May, who only sighed and nodded grimly. The calf’s chest was still.

  “Shouldn’t you do something?”

  “It’s dead, poor fella. I could tell when I touched him inside.”

  Mama bawled and looked back curiously at the calf.

  “Sorry, girl.” May stroked the cow’s rump.

  Christy dropped her handle in the straw. “What happened?”

  “Not sure. Umbilical cord could’ve tangled up, I guess.”

  She looked at the calf again, a messy heap that never had a chance, his swollen tongue lolling from his mouth, his dead eyes half-open. A sickening heat rushed up her neck. She’d seen something like this only one other time in her life.

  After removing the chains and retrieving the handles, May dragged the limp calf out of the stall.

  Christy followed mechanically and slumped onto a bale of hay, holding her head in her gloved hands. But the instant she touched her face, she felt bloody wetness against her cheeks and jerked her hands away.

  May sat down beside her, and together they stared at the calf. The irony. Less than an hour before they’d been watching a healthy newborn nurse for the first time. Now they were gawking at a carcass. It wasn’t fair.

  “They say when losing a calf quits bothering you,” May said, “get out of the business.”

  Christy couldn’t speak. She was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion and grief. Please . . . she couldn’t lose it here. But she kept seeing that body in the trash can. How could she even think about fairness? At least both calves tonight had an equal chance. They both had mothers that tried.

  “I’m glad it still gets to me in a way,” May said. “But I always think about the things I should’ve done.”

  Christy swallowed. “You’re just going to leave it there?”

  “I’ll move him outside. Tomorrow I’ll take it to the graveyard.” May got up and took hold of the calf’s back legs, dragging him out of the shed. His body scraped the floor and left a dark trail.

  Christy knew he probably hadn’t suffered. Just never took that first breath. Fate had been kind. He hadn’t felt the agony of being ripped apart piece by piece. She squeezed her head with both hands.

  When May returned she sat down beside her again, and it was all Christy could do to keep from running away.

  “You okay?” May rested her hand gently on Christy’s shoulder.

  She nodded, but the tears poured out of her. She turned her head away.

  “We did all we could.” May obviously thought she was bothered about the calf.

  “You don’t understand. I’m not talking about the calf.” Christy faced May again, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “May, I did kill someone.”

  Chapter 17

  At sunrise May knocked on the sliding glass door of the Eckert’s kitchen. In a moment Beth appeared, hair tousled. When she saw May the lock clicked, and the door slid open.

  “What’s the matter?” Beth still wore her bathrobe and held a bowl of half-eaten Cheerios.

  “I’ve gotta talk to you,” May said. “Sorry it’s so early.”

  Beth stepped back to let her in, and May closed the door.

  “It’s Chris,” May said, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the back of a chair.

  Beth took a big bite of cereal and spoke with her mouth full. “What about her?”

  “Listen, I hate to bother you like this. Ruth left for town early. Otherwise I’d be talking to her.”

  “As you can see, I’m extremely busy.” Beth held up her bowl and smiled. “Dad left early on a call, and Mom’s still asleep. What’s going on?”

  May sat down in the chair, running her hands through her hair. She didn’t know how to start. She’d thought it was the dead calf upsetting Chris. Her city-dwelling sister had probably never seen such a gory sight. She never expected to hear what Chris revealed.

  “She told me she killed someone.”

  Beth’s smile disappeared.

  “Last night I had to pull a dead calf. It upset her a lot. I was trying to comfort her; then out of the blue she shocked me with that. I tried to get her to explain, but she clammed up.”

  “You’re kidding.” Beth pulled out a chair across from her. “Is she serious?”

  May had wondered that all night. Could it really be true? It would explain her sister’s aloofness, but she just couldn’t picture Chris taking anyone’s life.

  Was she drunk last night when she said it? Mom and Dad’s personalities had changed completely when they drank. Dad got angry. Mom got mushy.

  “And that’s not all,” May said. “Earlier, before she told me, I found her drinking. Right in the living room. She had a whole bottle of something.”

  “So maybe she wasn’t all there when she said it.”

  “But you should’ve seen her. The agony on her face.” May ran her hand across one of the cloth place mats. “What if she’s running from the law? Maybe that’s why she’s here. To hide out.”

  Beth pushed her cereal aside. “She actually said she killed someone?”

  “I know. It’s hard to believe.”

  “She seemed distant last night, but—”

  May threw her hands in the air. “What am I supposed to do?”

  “It’s not like you can force her to talk about it.”

  “But you think I should I bring it up?”

  “I . . .” Beth rubbed her chin, staring at the table. “I wish I knew what to tell you.”

  May hung her head. “And I can’t believe she’s drinking after what alcohol did to Mom and Dad. She hated their drinking just as much as I did. If anyone should know better . . .”

  She stood and walked over to the door. The sun was just rising, and like Midas’s finger, turning everything golden. Jim would be feeding hay by now. Chris was probably still asleep. “I wish I could’ve done something before she ran away. Maybe if I could’ve kept her from leaving none of this would’ve ever happened.”

  “You were a kid.”

  May stared out the glass door, her breath condensing on it. “What does she want from me?”

  “To know you again?”

  “I’d be surprised.”

  “People can change,” Beth said.

  May sighed and returned to the table. “I want to believe the best of her. I really do. And I do love her. I just wish I knew what she’s done.”

  ***

  Christy awoke in an empty house. She sat up, her hands and arms trembling even more than they had been yesterday. She hadn’t drunk nearly as much as she’d needed last night, and she could really feel it now.

  As soon as she dressed, she went for her car. Again she locked herself in the Honda and pulled out the vodka. This time she let herself drink more, but she still tried to monitor how much. She had to appear normal if anyone showed up. The vodka soothed like ice on a burn. Numbed her pain. It was hard to keep from guzzling the whole bottle.

  She’d been an idiot to get caught drinking. And then to run at the mouth like that to May. Now her sister knew how screwed up her life really was and how she’d spiraled into a weak, desperate nobody.

  Christy drank for the next ten minutes and thought about what she was going to say to May, but she emerged from the car with no answers.

  “Was wondering where you got to.”

  She jerked toward the v
oice. Jim. He stepped around the horse trailer.

  She stammered, “I was . . . getting something out of my car.” Oh, good, that sounded intelligent. Same excuse she’d given last night. “This makes the second time you’ve startled me out here. I don’t appreciate that.”

  “And this makes the second time you’ve run to your car for booze.”

  His bluntness caught her off guard. “Excuse me?”

  “That’s not cream soda in there now, is it?”

  Be calm. Don’t react. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Denial was the only defense she knew.

  He laughed, and it grated on her nerves like nails on a blackboard. “Relax. You’re not anywhere I haven’t been. I used to run for my drinks at all hours. Sometimes hid my stash in the hayloft like a good ’ol drunk.”

  “Did you hear me? I said I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Whatever. Only you’re not hiding anything.” Jim started to walk away.

  Without thinking, Christy caught up and jerked on his arm. He swung around and she flinched. They stood facing each other, Jim looking intently into her eyes. Didn’t she know better than to come at him like that? Yet he just stood there, not even angry. Not even close to hurting her.

  “You’re out of line here,” she said, pointing at his face. “You don’t even know me!”

  “No, I don’t, but normal people don’t keep liquor in their cars.”

  Christy squared her shoulders. “What’s it to you?”

  “Just trying to help.”

  “Save it. I don’t need your help. So what if I have a drink now and then? I don’t have a problem.”

  “That’s what I used to say.”

  She wanted to slap him for that remark but instead pivoted on her heels and marched toward the house. He followed her.

  “Just leave me alone, okay?” Christy yelled over her shoulder. He was punching every one of her buttons, and she couldn’t take much more. He came into the kitchen behind her anyway. What was he trying to prove?

  On the counter were two plates full of bacon, eggs, and toast, each covered with Saran wrap.

  “For you and May,” Jim said with a wave toward them. “Ruth made it.”

  Christy wasn’t hungry. She chose to ease her inner seething by finding a cup and pouring herself some coffee from the ever-present, steaming pot, hoping Jim would get the point. He remained hovering in the background. So he was obstinate as well as nosy.

  She held up her coffee cup. “This better? Or is caffeine a no-no with you too?”