Chapter Notes
YES! Finally, I get to set up camp in Sam's head!
See the end of the chapter for more notes
Sam's POV
I am a child of my city, my status, of abandonment by a stranger right out of the womb, of a lonely,
rigid woman looking for a last chance to try and find love. Frankly, she wasn't good at it.
I learned to be independent early, to look for any opportunity, every route of escape, file away
every scrap of information. I was a skinny, feral little thing, gawky and tall, quick on my feet and
even quicker between my ears. If I were smarter and more clever than everyone else, I could stay
ahead. Stay ahead of my fears and demons and the endless chant of 'what if' that came from being
raised by a cold mother.
Looking back, it was inevitable that things would implode so spectacularly.
Desperate for the love I'd been missing all my life, the mistake happened and in an instant I was
sixteen and pregnant, thrown out of the only home I knew with barely enough time to grab a
backpack full of clothing and a few keepsakes. No amount of therapy will get rid of some of the
memories like a tar pit in my head. Still, there were those that saved me too, teachers and church
folk and those that remembered what it was to have an old-fashioned neighborhood around them,
and not what modern New York has mostly become.
They all convinced me to give the baby up. It would be too much of a drain on me, it would be
dangerous they said. Through the rending pressure and pain of birth, any of my doubts seemed to
wither and die.
Until I looked into that baby's scrunchy little face and everything else faded away. For the first
time in my life, I felt like I could breathe.
I'll never know where I found the strength to reach past terror and pain and the clamor of everyone
else's words and condemnations in my head, to catch the nurse's sleeve. Yes, I knew the nice
churchies would shake their heads sadly, yes I knew the nice lady eagerly waiting to adopt my
baby would be crushed, yes, I knew all of that.
But I couldn't let her go.
So I waited a day for my insides to feel less horrible, refused to have any visitors, and when they
brought me my daughter to feed, I stayed quiet and alert until I could slip away.
Somehow, I made it work. Alone and scared and with my infant held close, I found allies and scut
work to scrape together some money out of sight of the authorities. I named my sweet little kitten,
Ruby, a bright gem in my dull world.
I wish I could have given her the world, doted on her night and day instead of having to work two
full-time jobs and sometimes more, Ruby staying with neighbors in our fleabag apartment building
or alone at far too young an age.
But we survived.
A coworker at whatever thankless job I'd gotten stuck in gave me a lead to a step up and a way out
of the inadequate living situation. I had to find something better and get away from ducking Ruby's
teachers and school staff wondering over her threadbare clothes and lunches of oddball leftovers
from my jobs.
We packed what we could carry or stuff into a rental car and headed out to Queens to make a new
home in a neighborhood that would soon be ground under gentrification and have the individuality
strangled out of it. Until then, I could make a marginal living with the other rats.
The bar was an unexpected haven for me with halfway decent pay, the occasional nice tip payout
and a policy of careful retaliation against the asshole handsy sorts. Mugs slammed down on fingers
was a favorite of mine, guaranteed to make them leap away and give me a few moments to brace
myself for a secondary reaction.
Sometimes they'd lash out and sometimes they'd skulk off like the cowards they were.
Unfortunately, they were the backbone of the business and I navigated the chaos as best I could.
Though, if they were the bread and butter, the rich kids looking for some rough trade were the
unexpected fifty dollar bill found on the sidewalk.
That analogy brings back memories. To be honest, I don't really remember meeting Lena. She was
just another bored college brat and her brat entourage that I could flatter and fleece, leaving them
with dented bank accounts and some fun memories. They were a dime a dozen in my work and in
this neighborhood.
That fateful day she and her idiot friends wandered into the then-scruffy bar downstairs, I could
never have known how she would change my life, give Ruby and I the strength of family we
needed so desperately.
And the temper tantrum in buying the whole building simply to get revenge on me? What a drama
queen! Though admittedly, she did scare the shit out of me. In a shithole bar like the Boiler Room
used to be, new owners could only be bad news.
Instead of having the rug jerked out from beneath me yet again, I found a soulmate and a home.
Lena turned out to be so much more than just another rich girl making me feel lower than I already
was. She is kind, tough and has the sort of mercurial, endlessly adaptable and brilliant mind that
still leaves me in awe.
We saved each other in so many ways. Lena was being crushed under the weight of expectations,
of being a new mother with too much money and not enough help. Her money started to save the
funky old building and slowly scrub the shithole into a business to be proud of. She left me the
functioning of the bar and didn't micromanage, and I tugged her head out of the clouds when her
plans grew larger than the brick and wood around us. We were a hell of a good team right out of
the gate, a balance for one another and our daughters.
Because I got Lily in the deal too.
I couldn't love that kid -full of wild energy and enough creativity to reshape the world into
something messy and beautiful- more if she were my own. Just shy of a year and a half old, Lily
was barely wary of me and my too-smart-for-her-own-good daughter, and her easy acceptance was
humbling. In an instant, they were friends. In days, they were sisters.
Lena's massive intelligence and quick wits were a welcome balance to my more linear thinking. In
her, Ruby found a mentor every bit as smart and quick as she is and they were inseparable almost
instantly. Her grades -already solid- climbed into the top four percent of her school. After a year,
I even let Lena talk me into sending Ruby to a private school to really get that brain in shape; even
if we all hate being separated during the week.
In turn, I became a playmate and mentor to Lily, all chaos and mess and loudness. As Ruby had
always been a more cerebral child, my having the little human hurricane to roughhouse with made
me feel like the kid I had never gotten to be.
In them, in the dynamic we built between the four of us, I found a new strength and purpose.
Five years later, and we're a real family through and through… even as the fearful, feral part of me
constantly itches to run and never look back.
If not for Lena, I have no idea what sort of person I might have become. A cold and reluctant
mother like the woman who raised me who became a monster with the spark of Ruby alive within
me? Would growing up dirt poor and with a mother capable of little more than work and sleep have
ruined my smart girl?
But I got Lena somehow, and she is the balance I needed, even if I didn't know it at the time. Me
and Lena? I've never known quite how to explain me and Lena.
Even after six years of connection, of friendship and love and partnering in all ways, I still feel like
she's going to wake up one day and wonder what the hell she's doing in this plebian life. So I feel
like I have to keep my foot in the door, an eye on every window, ready to pick up the pieces and
grit my teeth and survive by whatever means necessary.
Sometimes I think our daughters are the only thing anchoring her to one place.
The scent of coffee cuts through my drowsy reminiscing and I slowly force myself to come to life.
Good god, I feel like I was dropped from too high up and left to not move for too long. Dragging
myself to the bathroom to clean up helps, as does the pounding of almost painfully hot water.
There are some real benefits to being Lena's partner.
Like the magnificent way we eat. Not fancy, but with the best ingredients she can find, and she has
a very long reach when she wants it.
The great room is empty, though I can hear her close by. There's an off and on strain to her small
noises that means she's stretching, probably on the other side of the dining table. Though going to
find her is aborted by disembodied words that have me freezing like a hunted animal.
"Lena? Are you there?"
The unexpected voice is a guy on her computer screen in a suit that probably costs as much as the
booze the club goes through in a week. He's silvering around the edges and looks distinguished in
the same way as the paintings and photos of Lena's late father. He also seems dimly familiar and I
let the fear response go, smooth down the fight or flight.
"I'm still here, Brad, hold up!"
Bouncing up from her stretch on the floor, Lena flops down onto the chair, feet tucked awkwardly
under her.
"Shaking off a long weekend?" The-suit-named-Brad teases and Lena laughs that throaty laugh that
does things to my heart and hormones.
"Hardly! Just a school play for the eldest and a quiet weekend in. Our transaction has definitely
been the most exciting thing since that hassle in Los Angeles."
"Oh, speaking of that…"
I zone out on their conversation as much for their privacy as my own disinterest. Frankly, I have
never had the faintest gleam of curiosity in the Luthor part of Lena's life. She keeps it very
deliberately separate from our lives here and I fully respect that. Being a Luthor means a hell of a
lot of zeros to your name, but the stress -and often, isolation- barely seems worth it.
From the snippets I catch, it's clear Brad is from the bank, knew her daddy and a large sum of
money has been moved at her request. Call me crazy, but I have a hunch what that is about.
It's weird, to be honest, how into those videos Lena has gotten. Oh, I get Alex's appeal, and I
absolutely wouldn't kick her out of bed, but the softness of Lena's smile says there's more to it.
Admittedly, there's something special about that stranger's grin and the adoration she has for her
weird little family and the creatures in their care and that beautiful land they've made their own.
Alex has a steadiness that I feel like I lack and it makes me wonder if that -plus the absolute drop
dead sexy of her- is enough to send Lena running to the Oregon Trail.
Shaking off the dark thoughts, I busy myself with coffee and looking for something to calm the
hungry beast in my gut trying to claw its way loose. It feels like I'm always hungry, always restless
and ready to leap into action. I've always been like that. As is the norm, Lena has left me a large
portion of what I bet her own breakfast was. She's sweet that way. In return, I grab a tiny
cappuccino cup and pour in the whole goat's milk she loves in her coffee as a treat.
Call over, Lena rearranges herself in the chair to tap away busily at the computer. Something a
very sparse few know about her is on full display at the moment. It's yet another endearing habit,
though certainly one the children never really see. In defiance of her stuffy upbringing, Lena loves
to sit like an absolute wacko, pretzeling herself up like some feral animal who has never seen a
piece of furniture in her life.
It's adorable.
In no hurry to do anything or be anywhere, I just lean against the kitchen counter and nibble at my
breakfast, waiting until my lover notices me.
Which she eventually does, jumping a little in surprise. I do love doing that!
That's my cue to juggle over my supplies in addition to the carafe of coffee. The fleeting wisps of
dark thoughts fly out of my head at her smile, the touch of her hand on my cheek when I lean down
to kiss her. With this beautiful soul beaming love out at me, how could I think I wasn't good
enough? Those niggling worries about a handsome stranger coaxing her away are quieted by her
voice and touch, both of which soothe and reassure my restless soul.
After humming happily over her freshened coffee and milk, Lena speaks up casually. "So I made a
contribution to Rainbow Haven Acres."
The faint note of sheepishness is endearing. After the mileage we got out of our internet crush last
night, I'd think she'd be over any small embarrassment. There's no hiding my smile, not even
behind a large coffee mug.
"I gathered that would be on your agenda after the banter last night."
Blessed with mostly not having to deal with the bullshit of the Luthor empire, Lena is very sweet
about being the sort of bored philanthropist to browse through sites like and Kickstarter.
She doles out just enough money, just often enough, to not call attention to herself. She's just that
sort.
Knowing she hates being fawned over for her donations, I easily shift to affectionate teasing. "Did
you send a compliment along with the money? After last night, a card and flowers would seem
appropriate."
Green eyes twinkle with confrontational mirth as her quick wit comes out in a dry, "I hardly think
there's a Hallmark card that reads, 'thank you for the orgasm.'"
Never one to back down from a fight, no matter how loving, I zing back, "are you mocking me
with the singular, or did I just burn out some of your memory circuits?"
"Arrogant."
While my memories of our first meeting blurred in with every other college student that comes
through this place both then and now, getting to know her remains treasured memories.
Lena is a gem in every sense of the word, and she makes me better. Yes, I could live without her,
but I'd hate it. We've hovered somewhere between, 'old married couple,' and 'best friends who love
to bully each other, but out of love,' since that fateful meeting in the shithole bar so long ago.
I wouldn't want it any other way.
Lena's POV
After a lovely morning with my Sammy and a long, boring day of the endless and fiddly details of
care and maintenance to this old building, the workday is drawing to a close. Better, I get the email
I've been waiting for. It's from a Winnsome Creatures Technology, and titled, 'regarding your
donation'. The name gets a smile. I'd have been shocked if there wasn't some sort of playfulness
from this gang of friends!
The email does its best to be professional, but is a thinly veiled 'omg, are you #$*!ing serious?!'
that makes me laugh. I forget sometimes what a long number can do to most people. Yes, I own
that extreme privilege has left my perceptions a bit skewed.
Pulling up Skype on my computer, I tap out the phone number and wait. It doesn't take long.
"Winnsome Creatures Technology, this is Winn."
"Good to put a voice to a name, Winn."
I have no idea what makes me be so familiar with a complete stranger like this, but all I can do is
figure that I've indulged too much in his friends. There's a long pause and Winn sounds so hesitant I
have to stifle down a giggle.
"Uh… is this Brad from Luder Bank? Because if it is, damn Brad, you have a sexy voice."
That does it, my laughter pealing out. He garbled the pronunciation of the family bank, but that's
hardly new. The bank is as old as my forbearers immigrating to the new world and one of the few
things to bear the original German spelling. Like many families back in the day, our last name was
altered in the process of becoming Americans. Ironically, sometimes the separation of name has
been a blessing.
"Turn on your camera, you goof," I giggle-speak as though we're old friends and a moment later, a
pleasantly ordinary-looking fellow that could be anywhere in his twenties or thirties is smiling on
my screen.
"Now, see, I'm almost disappointed in you, Brad, I was expecting a fancy three-piece suit. You'd
look great."
"With a good tailor, everyone looks great in a suit, flatterer. A pleasure to meet you, Winn. I'm
Lena."
"Same, Lena!"
We chat amiably about the money and Winn is clearly far less intimidated now that he has a face
to the funds. That's pretty normal and I go with it. This is no business transaction and the informal
suits us both better.
"'Winnsome Creatures' is pretty clever," I tease my new pal with a chuckle, amused when he rolls
his eyes.
"Oh, that was all Alex. She went full 'dad joke' mode when I asked for suggestions."
Always curious about my crush, I try for nonchalant. "Oh? What were some of the rejects?"
Winn pauses in his tapping away at his computer to look thoughtfully off into the middle distance.
"Lemme see what I can remember. It was years ago. Winn Some-Lose Some, Winner Takes All,
The Winner's Circle." There's no keeping in my little scoff of amusement and Winn grins
wickedly. "It was one of the many times when I asked Kara how was it that her sister is both
charming and a complete pain in the ass."
It's easy to envision how Kara must have just sighed and shook her head, fond smile on her face.
"Are they as great as they appear to be in the videos?"
Even I can hear the wistfulness in my tone and Winn pauses his typing to smile warmly.
"They're better."
Feeling unaccountably shy, I force myself to ask, "so, if I were to take up the offer of a not-soglamping
trip to the farm, do you think I might persuade your team to take on just one extra body if
she is a somewhat small seven year old?"
"Lady, for this donation, I will make damn sure those idiots will definitely accommodate a half
more!"
After a pleasant chat, I freely give Winn permission to tell Team Lanvers what he will, though I do
insist that I communicate only through him; at least until I talk things out with my family. He
readily agrees and we both sign off. Excited, I race for the master bedroom to dress high-end
casual, sweeping my hair into a ponytail as I make my way to the elevators.
The building lobby was the first thing I tackled when I bought the place, refurbishing it top to
bottom, moving walls, maximizing the space. It's actually far smaller now, but better thought out,
with living plants and pleasant décor and the banks of antique mailboxes discretely set off to the
side. Aside from the expanded manager's living space and office, I had the entire double-height
ground floor cleared out of ragtag little business spaces to shake up the shithole bar and turn it into
a profitable club. The bar stayed open while we converted everything else, then the staff simply
switched over, expanded and grew into the space. The original bar is now a quiet side club, a
surprisingly pleasant gem of old wood and stone beneath lifetimes of grime.
There are discrete doors in the lobby for access to back-of-house, but I rarely remember to grab my
keycards for access. My staff knows what they are doing and I try to keep out of their business
unless I need to, be it housekeeping or the club.
Stepping into the sweltering early evening, I breathe deep of our neighborhood and head north. The
entrance lobby for the apartments is well off to one side of the street-facing side of the building,
the club, the other end. Each has been carefully worked to look completely different, with the
intent to reduce confusion.
There's a new bouncer at the door, so I wait a few minutes off to the side until a more familiar face
shows up.
"Lena! How you been, chica?"
Mario has been with The Boiler Room even longer than Sam and is one of her staunchest allies. He
is also built like a grizzly bear and gives the most amazing hugs. After getting squashed and
trading a few flirtatious barbs, I'm waved in. Inside it's pretty empty, the crowds finishing up their
day before heading out for some fun. Canned dance music is just at the edge of obtrusive for now,
the rotating DJs slated for later hours. My destination is the old bar, kept remarkably quiet by two
sets of thick wooden doors and a hallway between.
Unlike the former life of the bar, it smells reasonably clean and almost entirely free of decades of
tobacco smoke. That smell never truly gets out of wood. At least it's been illegal to smoke indoors
since 2002, that's a boon.
The gorgeous old bar is a behemoth of wood sealed glass smooth and heavy brass rails that once
supported the hands and feet of the people who built this city. I love the history here, details lost to
time and neglect, but pressed into the booths and walls and wood.
The thin crowd hardly warrants three bartenders, but Sam likes it that way. The more she is merely
an extra set of hands, the better. It also lets her rotate around the entire business to keep an eye on
things, be it creating exotic drinks to wow the crowd, or scrubbing down the bathrooms. A
business needs everything to work well to be successful.
I can see that familiar grin curl to life as I grandly sweep in and take the center barstool. Tonight is
Sam's protégé, Nat, and a new girl I haven't met. The former greets me cheerfully, the latter looks
speculative. A shame we have a 'no one work related' policy, because she's cute. Oh well.
With a few precise, fluid moves, Nat has a tallboy glass prepared and gives it just enough of a slide
to come to a perfect halt beneath my nose. I daresay that Nat is an even better barkeep than Sam
herself, with a unique flair the patrons love. She can keep everything together when I drag my Sam
off to the wilds of Oregon.
The mint julep is perfection, just a little too tart, and easy on the booze.
"Perfect for the end of a hot day! Thank you, Nat."
As expected, I am treated just like another patron, though admittedly a VIP. Inside these walls,
business comes first. Though Sam does finish up her stocking and comes over to lean on the bar
beside me.
"You look very pleased with yourself."
Grinning coyly around my straw, I tease, "do I? I can't imagine why."
A quick, hard kiss makes me giggle, uncaring that she's mussed my lipstick. I like the flash of my
hotter red on her mouth.
"So when are we going?"
I pout dramatically at her guessing, not that I expected anything less, and earn another kiss, longer
and hotter, with a little nip at my bottom lip for good measure.
"Tease."
"Oh you just wait until I'm sure everything's running well here and I'll do more than tease."
Pleased with that, I grin and get one more lingering kiss before I'm left with my drink.
By the next afternoon, we three adults have plotted out the best dates and a few alternates.
By the time breakfast is over on Saturday, the girls are alight with excitement over the idea.
By the following Monday, I have coordinated with Winn for a vacation out to Rainbow Haven
Acres in less than three weeks.
Let the countdown begin.
So, it started out like an ordinary week… September 20- September 26.
8458 views
Rainbow Haven Acres
Published on October 2, 2017
"So, yeah, sorry we're a couple days late posting, but things got a little… crazy."
Frankly, Kara was still in a state of shock. Like nearly-hit-by-a-bus state of shock.
They all were. No matter that she'd tried to scrawl out a bit of a script to get through
this, the words looked like the chickens scratching at the dirt.
So she tossed the paper over her shoulder and took a deep breath.
"Okay, let me see what I can cover. So, uh… oh! Right. The kittens have recovered
well from being fixed and are whining and crying to be let loose. They're also stinky
messes from being unable to groom themselves. A couple days ago me and Alex held
each one down and brushed them out and used some pet wipes on them." Kara knew
Winn would later voiceover her onto the various bits of footage and continued
rambling away. "The hay we cut is all stacked neatly into the west side of the low
barn, which is why it was built to be mostly open to the air. We did a lot of reading
and hay has to have some air circulation to stay dry and nutritious. The five foot walls
will keep out rain and snow. We're still looking for more, but it's hard to negotiate with
finances low."
Remembering something, Kara brightened and gestured for Brainy to follow her as she
set across the shorn field, skirting the dilapidated garden and long fence lines that kept
their animal friends safe.
"We've been focusing on winterizing what we can before the weather turns ugly again.
Like, we've been slowly moving the beehive closer and closer to the nearest hoop
house, y'know, so the bees don't get lost getting home. Once they're inside the plastic,
we'll insulate in the back three sides to help get them through the winter. Alex also put
together a nice little canopy to keep their landing ledge dry. It even matches the look of
the box! Alex is the best."
Suffused with affection for her sister, Kara stroked the wooden box where her bees
still worked busily, her smile soft.
"Also, Alex and Lucy finally took a good look at the pond. We'd kinda seen it when
we trimmed back the forest to get in the low barn, but there's a lot of underbrush
around the water and that's not even getting into the damn blackberry brambles!"
For once, Kara didn't bother to fret over the cussing. The blackberry deserved worse.
Alex had done a lot of painful things at this farm. This one was right up there with
handfuls of blisters in those early days. You can, in fact, blister through gloves. Who
knew? Her healer's hands were rougher instruments now, though they could still
accomplish delicate tasks.
Wielding a honest-to-Indy machete was no delicate operation.
Here she was, hacking her way through enough deadly blackberry to eat a thousand
sheep and sing, "feed me Seymour," for more.
But the last time she'd used the chainsaw, on this very task in fact, the damn thing had
tried to leap out of her hands like the ghost of Michael Meyers had come for her soul.
She'd been nervous about the machine ever since.
One of the earlier videos they watched on this journey was an only slightly cheeky talk
on how brambles were the largest carnivorous plant in the world. Seeing the vile,
backwards-facing barbs often as big as a large cat's claws, and how they would twist
and dig into sheep fleece until there was no hope of escape? Yeah, it didn't seem so
funny anymore. About the only damn thing they couldn't get a good grip into was the
thick Carhartt cotton duck fabric. So here Alex was, deep into brambles often lumping
up higher than her head, swinging around a sharp knife as long as her forearm and
sweating like a racehorse.
"Behold our romantic farm life!"
As though mocking her complaints, yet another thorny vine found her bootlaces and
sent her sprawling into yet more bramble. With reflexes honed from being an urban
bicyclist and risking her neck in the ER, Alex got her arms up around her head and lay
there listening to the woody scrape of hundreds of thorns against her heavy work
clothes as she settled into the mass.
It did nothing to drown out Lucy's laughing concern.
"Christ, Alex, that was some header. No proving the flesh-eating plant theory true.
Think you can get a knee under you?"
Brainy set aside his camera on the tripod to lend a hand with the rescue. With handfuls
of jacket and waistband, Lucy and Brainy set their weight and pulled with all their
might. The cussing and yelling reached epic levels as the brambles found every
vulnerable spot in defiance of losing their catch.
"Oh shit…"
Lucy's faint words were hardly a shock by the way the scratches at Alex's ears, neck
and scalp burned.
"Remain still," Brainy ordered gently and picked at the leaves and thorns tangled in
red hair. "It is fortunate that you had your hair trimmed shorter, Alex, or this would be
a far more difficult task."
"All this and my scalp was cooler all summer. Bonus."
The grouchy tone was earned, blood smeared on her gloves when she lightly touched
her scratches.
"Let's get this over with so I can go carefully strip and clean up. Don't worry about
these scratches, none of them are deep. A good scrubbing and I'll let you fuss over
them if Kara doesn't elbow you aside."
It only took a few more feet to reach the pond, their aim dead on to leave them at the
old dock, rickety under dead leaves and slime mold. The universe evened up the score
when Lucy slipped and went into the gross brown water, arms flailing. Laughing, Alex
lay down and shoved her arm into the water to drag a spluttering Lucy up.
"Guess the brambles aren't the only hungry thing, eh?"
Knowing that Winn would come back to her after the brambles and lake incident,
Kara grinned wildly. "And Lucy's pretty sure that she saw signs there were small
animals living at the edge of the pond that might be otters!" Expression going wry, she
continued on. "There are also signs of beaver, but they might be gone by how old the
lodge looked, not to mention the lack of flooding on the farm. I tried to get more
details, but she and Alex were making too many dirty jokes!"
She loved them both, but honestly. After rubbing her forehead as though annoyed,
Kara's smile gave her away, and she carried on.
"Also we got some winterizing done on the fancy-pants telecom set up Brainy's been
slaving over since we got here, but wouldn't let any of us film!"
Her pointed look made Brainy speak up behind the camera. "Perfection first, then
sharing."
"Fiiiiiiiine."
Clearly it was an old joke between the friends.
"We were looking at adding some cattle to the farm earlier in the year before we
rescued the sheep, and are still gonna do that. There are some useful heritage breeds
we'll add to the links below and if anyone has a lead on some miniature cattle that
won't break the bank? Oh my god, so cute!"
A deep breath and Kara's demeanor sobered, becoming that baffled joy when she
started this little video.
"Okay, so yeah, we have big news. So, we have a page, and some of you have
been awesome and helped us out, so thank you. But it got… a little crazy last night.
Winn gave us a call and told us the big news that he'd been sitting on for a day to make
sure it wasn't a sick joke. It wasn't. So, some generous stranger out there -and I'll add
in what little footage we caught of our reactions because even Brainy was too shocked
to grab a camera- some stranger donated to us -and I still can't believe I'm saying
this- one hundred and fifty thousand dollars."
Those big blue eyes filled with tears and her voice was a little hoarse then.
"So, whoever you are, I don't know how we'll ever thank you, because we're already
on the hunt for all the hay and goodies our animals could ever eat in a winter, and
have tons of plans to fulfill now to make this place as amazing as we all know it can
be. Thank you so much for helping us save them and we're gonna save so many more.
Whenever you want to come see the Oregon Mountains, you just let us know, 'kay?'
Then she signaled Brainy to cut so she could cry again in peace.