Amy's Thursday through Sunday
With all mementos of her past romantic relationships stowed carefully out of every day sight, Amy returned from the Quonset hut to her loft. Shucking her boots at the stair landing, she slipped into bed. Swaddled in a calming sense of closure, she fell into deep sleep quickly, but it did not last. A little while later, she laid wide awake, perfectly still, hoping that sleep would take her again.
"Please. It's been a long day." Amy begged in a quiet voice, hoping somehow the sleep gods or the sandman would hear her plea, take heed, send her drifting back into lala land.
Waiting for her eyes to grow heavy, her mind began to wonder, flitting from one thought to another, morphing from one thing to the next, without rhythm or reason. Random thoughts began colliding, growing into irrational worries and nagging doubts until she gave up the hope of sleep.
Getting out of bed, Amy got a glass of water then plunked down at the round dining room table, stacked with textbooks. Opening her chemistry book, she began to reread the first three chapters for a third time.
Simon's voice outside drifted in, startling her awake. Lifting her head from the table, her cheek was stuck to page 37 with a dried puddle of drool. Carefully releasing its bond, she checked the time.
"Shoot!" She spouted, knowing if she didn't leave in 11 minutes, she would be late for Chemistry lab.
Quickly washing her face and brushing her teeth, she dressed in usual ranch attire, faded jeans, tank, plaid shirt, all clean but somewhat rumpled as they came straight from the dryer. She grabbed her backpack and chem textbook from the table, stepped into her old boots, shoved her white cowboy hat on her head and bolted down the stairs.
"Morning!" She said, running right past Simon. "I'm late."
"Morning to you too." He laughed. "But, don't worry about me. I can do all the chores by myself."
Her Thank You lingered in the barn as she ran to Old Blue and hopped in. She turned the key, pressed the gas to the floor but the old GMC wasn't having any of it.
"Urgh. Come on Blue. Help me out. I'm gonna be late." She pleaded, rubbing the steering wheel, turning the key once again, tapping the gas more gently, hoping that this time would do the trick.
The GMC responded with a pitiful, waa waa waa, before dying with a punctuated sputter.
In frustration, Amy lowered her forehead, resting it on the steering wheel. "Pleassseee. I can't be late."
A sharp rap on the glass over her left shoulder, she jerked up in her seat. She rolled down her window.
"It's flooded." Simon stated the obvious. "You should take Lisa's." He held the keys up.
"Yeah." Amy opened the door. "Maybe it's time to sell her."
"Nah. She's just having an off day."
"She's not the only one." She groused as she slammed the old blue door shut, then accepted the keys.
"It'll get better, you'll see." He said as she headed towards Lisa's Porsche.
"Since when did you become Mr. Glass Half Full." She yelled over her shoulder.
"When you became Ms. Glass Half Empty." He retorted.
Not turning around, she raised her hand in acknowledgement.
"Have a good day Amy!" He yelled, scooping up Norton who join him to see her off. "Hey there, little man! Did you get breakfast?" He ruffled the fur on the kitten's neck. "Bet you didn't."
Barely in the seat Emma saved for her before professor walked in, Amy's heart was still racing after jogging from the parking lot. Sweaty and distracted, she pulled her laptop from her bag and opened it. When mostly settled, she looked around the room. Several eyes were glued to her, whispers accompanied their stares. Realizing that she hadn't brushed her hair, she reached up to smooth it only to find a crumpled up orange sticky stuck there. Now embarrassed, she ran her her fingers through her hair looking for more foreign objects, thankfully finding none.
The professor stepped to the front of the room commanding the students attention away from her, much to Amy's relief.
"Welcome. This is Chemistry Lab 201. As you know from lecture, I am Dr. Brownstein. Mr. Mac White, our TA, is standing in the back." Mac raised his hand. After reviewing the class rules, grading system, and syllabus, Mac took attendance before the professor took over again.
"Stoichiometry. In our first two lectures, we explored stoichiometry and how that relates to chemistry. In this lab, we will apply and experiment with those principles." The professor commenced her lecture, then looked at the seating chart.
"Ah. Ms. Fleming, you were the last to be seated today. Tell us in laymen's terms what is meant by Stoichiometry."
"Um. Stoichiometry is the math associated with chemical reactions and the proportions in which elements or compounds react with one another." Amy answered.
"Good. Give an example."
"Water. When oxygen and hydrogen react to produce water, one mole of oxygen reacts with two moles of hydrogen to produce two moles of water. Or 2H2O."
"Right. Ms. Pottier. Remind us, what is a mole?"
Completely engrossed in the class, the 90 minute lab flew by. As students emptied out of the lab, Jason waved Mac over to the study group.
"Hey. This room is available if you want to study here instead. I'll be in the back grading papers and stuff." Mac informed them.
"We'll stay here then." Taking the lead, Jason decided, everyone else nodded their agreement.
"Let's take a 5 minute bio break first." Mary suggested. "I had way too much coffee this morning."
As the others left the room, Amy checked her phone for messages. Twelve texts and two voicemails were waiting, all were from Andrew except one from Alicia about dinner.
"Amy. Why won't you answer me? We need to talk as soon as possible. It's important. Call me back. PLEASE." His last text was followed by two yellow faced emojis, one anxious and sweating, the other pleading.
Immediately she pulled up his number from her contacts to call him, but stopped. Alicia's words floated into her brain.
"Slow your roll, Amy." She muttered aloud.
As much as she wanted to talk to him and find out what had happened, what was wrong, she decided to text instead.
"Andrew. I'm at school. Are you okay? Is Dandy hurt?" Her lips mumbled each word as she read it over twice, then pressed Send.
Three dots appeared, indicating that he was texting, then they stopped. A couple minutes later his text came.
"We're both fine. Not an emergency. But we need to talk. It's important. Call me as soon as you can."
"Relieved that you're both okay. I'll call after study group on the drive home."
"Don't call while you're driving." He texted back immediately. "Promise me." He added.
"Promise." She said as she typed.
Putting her phone away, she looked up, realizing she was not alone in the room.
"Oh hey. Didn't realize..." She startled, somewhat chagrinned.
"Yeah." Mac replied with chuckle. "Sometimes I talk to my phone while I text too."
"Yeah. Bad habit." She screwed up her lips, trying to remember if she said anything embarrassing.
"Sooo." Mac hesitated a bit. "You're the famous Amy Fleming in the article on Andrew Pierson."
Catching her off guard again, she froze except a single blink. "What article?"
"The one in yesterday's Herald. In the sports section."
"Oh" was all that she could manage. A tightness grew in her chest.
"So, you coach him?" He asked more pointedly.
"Used to, but not for long." Still a bit stunned, she mumbled her reply, not giving much away.
"Well, in the article he gave you a lot of credit for turning his career around and getting the spot on the team." Mac countered.
"Andrew is just being modest. He and Dandy earned that spot all on their own." She deflected any credit as the hairs on the back of her neck stood in alert, worried about what else was published.
"You really should read it." He encouraged.
"I usually don't generally read the sports section." She didn't want to do so today either.
"It's not the typical article on high profile athletes." He continued though she wished he would stop. "He was pretty frank about everything. Including you."
"Me?" She blurted, her eyebrows shot upward.
"Read it." He urged again. "Alls I can say is you must be one helluva coach...and very special friend." He smiled as though he meant it as a compliment.
Her stomach flip flopped right up to her throat, almost tasting the bile from her empty stomach.
Before anything more could be said, the others returned, interrupting the awkward exchange, much to her relief. Over the next two hours, the group reviewed the end of chapter questions, quizzed each other and checked homework. Amy tried her best to focus but her mind returned repeatedly to Andrew and the article.
After study session ended and goodbyes uttered, she went in desperate search of a quiet corner. With the changing of classes and students rushing to and fro, it took several minutes. By the time she found an empty classroom and closed the door behind, her mind was running wild, filling her with dread.
After debating whether to find and read the article first or call him, she decided to give him the first say.
He picked up on the first ring.
"Amy. Thank god. Please don't be mad." He blurted out before even saying hello. "I didn't think it would be written like that. Or picked up by the Herald."
"Andrew. Start from the beginning." Her voice was steady even as a wave of nausea continued to roll her stomach.
"I had no earthly idea this would happen. I mean, who reads the Brome County News anyhow? It's just a weekly local paper..school board meetings, snow conditions, baptisms. That kind of thing." He rushed through, clearly stressed. "Sacrebleu!" He muttered under his breath.
"Andrew. Please tell me." She was firm.
"Okay. Katheryn started last week at the Brome County News. As a reporter."
"Katheryn?"
"Katheryn Leblanc. We, ah, dated...but I mean, before I met you."
"Okay." She didn't need to know more.
"She just finished her masters from McGill. In journalism." He explained. "I had promised her an interview when she got her first job as a reporter."
"So she wrote an article on you."
"Yeah." He answered, then admitted quietly. "You're in it."
"Me? What about me?"
"Um. How we met. That you were my trainer and coach...Heartland, your mom, 2014 World Games." He gathered his courage, took a shot. "That we love each other."
"My mom?" It was though she hadn't heard anything else. "You told her about mom? You didn't even..."
"I know. I just..well, my dad, your mom..we both know how hard it is to lose...our hero. How hard it is to...carry on. But we did." He tried to explain. "You and me. We're alike in that way."
She nodded in agreement, but didn't respond, letting his words sink in instead.
"Amy. I'm so sorry. I know you how hate publicity. I didn't mean for it to happen. We were just talking, catching up mostly...I didn't think she'd put all that in there. Then it got picked up." He was desperate to fill in the silence. "Please say something."
"Honestly, I don't know what to say." She sighed audibly. "Is there anything in there that's untrue, hurtful or embarrassing?"
"No!" He was adamant, then hedged a bit. "Or at least, not from my perspective."
"Oh well. Thanks for telling me." She let him off the hook. "What's done is done. Nothing we can do now."
"Wait. You're not mad?" He was astounded.
"No." She softened as she rationalized. "I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later. You're famous now. You're a public figure. People want to know more about you and your career. And, your personal life."
"Bébé." The pet name slipped automatically from his tongue. "I am truly sorry. How can I make it up to you?"
"Just promise me that I am off topic from here on out. Okay?"
"Promise." Relieved, he replied immediately.
"Andrew, could you send me the link to the article? I'd like to read it."
"Really?" Surprised again. "I mean, yes, of course, I'll send it."
"I have to get going. I have clinic." She used Alicia's line.
"Oh. Okay. I understand."
"Bye." She replied, then disconnected.
Before she left the building, the familiar ding of an incoming text on her phone sounded. Resisting the urge to check it, she hurried to the parking lot, to the relative privacy of Lisa's SUV.
Alone, behind the wheel, she read the article, twice. She sat there, still, feeling laid bare by details she didn't ever expect to see in print. But, more than that, her heart ached for Andrew as clearly his hurt, grief and insecurities had resurfaced in a very public way. She needed to talk with him, make sure he was okay. Make sure to reinforce that they were friends. But, just friends.
"Amy. Everything okay?" He answered immediately.
"I read it."
"Oh." He replied hesitantly. "What do you think? Is it okay?"
"The article does a nice job describing how hard you've worked and how much you've overcome in your life to get to this point. Your success didn't come easy as some may have thought." She said tactfully.
"But, what do you think?"
"It was..." She stopped, searched for the right words but still stumbled. "I don't know, sorta hard to read. Not sure how to explain."
"I know. It was hard for me too." He said quietly. "It was like my whole life was laid out there for everyone to see. Yours too. I'm sorry for that Amy. Really."
"Andrew. When were you interviewed? For the article I mean?" She asked.
"After I got back to Bromont from Hudson. Tuesday, I think." His somber tone continued.
"Oh." She had guessed as much.
"I know I came across kinda pathetic." He sighed. "We were just talking, Katheryn and me. I just kept thinking back. Dad, mom and now you. How everything I love, I've managed to lose. I'll probably lose in competition too."
"You haven't lost me. We're still friends. We love and support each other. That hasn't changed."
"Yeah, I guess." He halfheartedly agreed.
"And, you're not going to lose the competition either. You're too talented and you've worked too hard. And, Dandy won't let you."
He scoffed. "I wish I was as confident as you."
"Andrew. I'd like to talk to Katheryn." Her request came out of no where.
"What? Like for an interview?" He voiced his surprise.
"I don't know, maybe."
"Why?"
"Because for some reason, you don't see, what I see. What I know to be true. Andrew, you and Dandy got that spot on the team because of your hard work, your talent, your innate abilities. You hired me to make you two work hard, away from Bromont and away from all that.." She waved her hand in the air. "That..that loss and expectation. That's all. I want the record set straight." She was adamant.
"But...you abhor publicity."
"I hate inaccuracies more." She countered. "The article says I'm 25. I'm 26." She chuckled.
"Oh damn. I missed that." He didn't laugh. "Are you sure? Because she really wanted to interview you. I told her No, that you didn't do those."
"I'm not agreeing to an article. I just want to talk to her."
"If that's what you want, I'll let her know and text you her number."
"Thanks. If any article comes of it, you and I get to approve its publication first. That you can be sure of."
"I should have done that." He lamented. "I'm sorry."
"Water under the bridge."
"I guess."
"One more thing Andrew."
"What's that?"
"I truly want the best for you in your life too. You deserved good things, happiness, adventure. You deserve to find someone who will love you like you love them. As your friend, I want that for you. Okay?"
"I miss you." He said quietly.
"I miss you too. Now. I better go. I am going to be late for clinic." She was firm.
"Okay. Thanks Amy."
Hanging up, she sat there for a moment, lost in a tangle of relief, regret and sadness. Her phone dinged alerting to his text and Katheryn's phone number.
She fired off her own texts, one to Scott to let him know she'd be late. Then to Alicia back.
"A. Dinner tonight sounds good. A."
"Roasted Beet. 6?" Alicia texted back.
"See you there."
Driving straight to the clinic, she pulled into the lot and parked next to Scott's truck. He gave a wave before raising the tailgate.
"Hey Scott." She emerged from the vehicle, her cowboy hat on her head. "Sorry I'm late..again. I came right from school."
"Hey Amy. No worries." He grinned. "Lisa's SUV, huh? Old Blue must be giving you fits."
"Yeah. Like everything else." She rolled her eyes.
"One of those days, huh?"
"Yeah."
"Come on. Let's get going. We have a full schedule ahead of us." Opening the passenger door, she climbed in.
Settled behind the wheel, Scott backed out and pulled onto the highway. "I see you dressed for the occasion."
The corners of her mouth upturned as she looked over at him. "So Dr. Cardinal, what occasion am I dressed for?"
"Well Ms. Fleming, the Bailey farm is up first. Ten of their Jersey senior yearlings have diarrhea." His eyes were affixed to the road ahead.
"You mean Kit Bailey...?" She asked, skipping right over the diarrhea.
"Yeah." He gave her a sideway glance.
"Oh. I thought they ranched only beef cattle."
"They diversified with dairy after they lost 50 some beef head to cattle rustlers a few years back. Remember?"
"How could I forget? Dad had a truckload stolen that same year." She stared straight ahead, out into the distance, seeing nothing but unpleasant memories.
"That was a tough year for Hudson ranchers, for sure...So. Any thoughts on the Bailey cows?"
"Um. How old are they? And, how long have they had diarrhea?" On topic again, she posed the first of many questions in what become their habit when discussing a case.
"Little over two years. Not yet producing. We've been treating the diarrhea over the last several weeks. But, the frequency intensified this week."
"Consistency?"
"Some loosely formed. Watery, mostly."
"Okay. Aside from the diarrhea, what are the other symptoms?"
"Lack of weigh gain. In some cases, weigh loss."
"So, they're not eating and drinking?" She guessed.
"No, they have a normal appetite. But they aren't making weight targets."
"Huh. What about their diet?"
"Field forage with supplemental grain and hay."
"Their mommas?"
"Not there. The yearlings were purchased from an auction about a year ago."
"Oh. Any other animals with symptoms?"
"No symptoms as of yet. Just these."
"Hmm. How are they housed?"
"The sick yearlings are now penned outside separate from the rest of the herd. Calves born on the ranch this year are still with their moms. The remainder in milking pens with outside grazing."
"Some kind of parasite then?" She guessed. "Or bacteria?"
He smiled.
"I must be warm. What do you think?"
"I'm hoping that it's not Johne's disease." He flinched ever so slightly.
"That sounds familiar. What's that?" Curious, her eyes glanced over at him.
"It's a highly contagious, fatal disease that affects the small intestines of all ruminants, cattle, sheep and goats. It's caused by the MAP bacteria."
"MAP? What's that stand for?"
He thought for a split second. "Mycobacterium Avium Subspecies Paratuberculosis. It's closely related to the organisms that cause tuberculosis. Anyhow, it blocks the absorption of minerals and nutrients." He sounded like one of her text books.
"Sounds bad. How is it transmitted?"
"Through the ingestion of infected manure and milk. Usually, it's a calf drinking from its mother. The disease has a very long incubation period of at least two years."
"Is it rare?"
"No. Actually, it affects about 50% dairy herds and 15% in beef herds in Alberta. But, only 5% of those infected actually show outward symptoms." He spouted off the statistics.
"I had no idea. How do you diagnose it? Labs?"
"Well, MAP bacteria detection in feces and antibody detection in serum or milk. These aren't producing milk so we'll draw blood. Neither tests are 100 percent, so we'll do both today."
"How big is their herd?"
"Forty-five or so dairy head. Two hundred some beef head."
"That's a lot of labs."
"A lot of feces." He grinned as he pulled through the gate at the Bailey ranch.
"Now I know what I'll be doing the rest of the day." She made a funny face. "So. What's the treatment?"
"There is none. They will eventually die of the disease so cull for slaughter. Improved herd management and prevention going forward. That's about it."
"That's terrible. Poor Kit." She lamented.
"Yeah."
"Wait. Does that mean a quarantine for the ranch?
"Possibly. If it's Johne's, we have to report it to the province officials. They decide."
"Oh boy." She frowned. "Remember having to quarantine Heartland for strangles?"
"How could I forget? Pegasus succumbed to it." He quickly glanced at her. "If I recall correctly, Kit's horse was the source."
Amy nodded.
"Here's the thing, Amy. When we have our vet hat on, we have to put aside our personal feelings and focus on the animal and the owner." He schooled her gently.
"Scott. I don't harbor any ill will towards Kit over that. We made our peace a long time ago and have moved on."
"Glad to know." He seemed relieved. "As vets, we must always be objective. We give our best clinical diagnosis, options for treatment, pros and cons, and our recommendation. But, in the end, it's the owner's decision that counts. Not ours. Okay?"
"Okay."
Scott parked in front of the red-sided dairy barn. Both emerging from the truck, Scott pulled a vet bag and white cooler out of the truck bed. Kit and a tall, slender man, besting her height by at least a foot, exited from the barn and approach them.
Offering his hand to Kit first, then to the man, Scott greeted them. "Kit. Brett. Thanks for calling."
"Thanks for coming Scott." Kit replied. She hadn't changed, her dark brown hair was still in long ringlets, a silver belt bucket hung low on her slim hips. "Amy. I wasn't expecting to see you."
"Hi Kit." Amy said.
"Amy is our vet tech these days." Scott jumped in. "She's starting vet school in the autumn."
"So the horse whispering thing isn't enough for you anymore." She said sarcastically, her manner still slightly rough and tumble.
Amy didn't take offense, but said nothing.
"Hi. I'm Brett Evans. Kit's husband and lesser half." He offered his hand which Amy took.
"Amy Fleming." She introduced herself. "Nice to meet you."
"Let's go see those yearlings." Scott suggested just as Kit's phone rang.
She looked at her phone screen. "It's Chet. I got to get this. Brett, could you take them out back?"
With his nod, she walked away hard, back into the barn. Her angry voice carried out into the sunshine, though her words did not.
He motioned for them to walk with him.
"Don't mind Kit. She's under a lot of stress. With her dad recovering from that fall, we're trying to run the entire place, two men down. Now this." He explained as he rubbed the back of his tanned neck.
"How is Paul?" Scott asked.
"Dr. Kennedy says he'll heal with time."
"What happened?" Amy asked.
"He fell 10 feet from that windmill." He pointed to the tall metal structure, it's blades slowly turning in the faint breeze. "And broke his leg, arm and tail bone, gashed up his face. Found him lying there, out like a light. He's lucky that he didn't break his neck."
"Wow. He is lucky." Amy shook her head.
"So, I take it Chet's out on the rodeo circuit?" Scott asked as he looked around. "I don't see his truck."
"Yeah, he headed out yesterday. Falkland Stampede.
"BC?"
"Yeah. Big deal this year. It's their 100th Anniversary. By the way, don't say anything about that to Kit. She not too happy with him, as if you couldn't tell." He said alluding to the phone call. "She was planning on competing before this all happened."
"Still barrel racing?" Amy asked.
"As much as possible. Heard that you two roped together back in the day."
Amy chuckled. "We even managed to win a couple of buckles."
Brett came to a stop at the metal six rail fence that rimmed a round field of green grass and pockets of sludge. Ten fawn brown jerseys with dark brown eyes and noses and sweet faces calmly looked up from chewing. Unimpressed, one by one, they lowered their heads to graze again, their dark tipped tails swishing contentedly. A metal trough full of water sat to one side next to a mostly empty bin of grain. In the back corner, a bright blue Priefert squeeze chute had been already set-up.
"Here they are. We're hoping it's not Johne's." Brett cut to the chase.
"Me too." Scott's face was serious. "Brett can you push them into the chute? Amy and I will get the specimens."
"Will do. They're a pretty docile bunch."
"Let's suit up." He suggested to Amy.
Dressed in gray coveralls and plastic boot covers, they circled around the pen, headed towards the chute. Brett led the two.
"You know how this chute works, right?" Brett asked. "Here's the lever. Pull it down once the yearling has her head through the head gate. It won't hurt her."
"Yep. Done it at least a thousand times." She replied confidently.
"Good." Brett smiled.
"I'll work the lever." Scott said. "Amy, you're handling supplies, needles, specimen containers and paperwork. We'll start at the head finish with the hind end."
"Okay."
"Here's the order. Cow in chute, ear tag check, bottle jaw check, jugular draw, feces specimen. Put everything, specimens and paperwork, in the specimen bag then in the cooler. Change gloves. Repeat. Questions?"
"What's bottle jaw?"
"It's swelling under the jaw." He put his hand to his throat to demonstrate. "The intermandibular edema is due to protein loss from the bloodstream into the digestive tract. Amy, moderate swelling indicates an advanced disease state and the animal won't live much longer, a few weeks at most."
"Oh."
"We may have to euthanize, but it's up to Kit and Brett." He said just to prepare her for the possibility.
She nodded.
"Okay. How many are we gonna to do?"
"These ten to start."
Getting the first yearling into the chute was a piece of cake. Brett adeptly herded it into the chute and Scott pulled the lever to restrain the animal, it's head poking out one end, her rear end out the other.
"Hi there sweet girl." Amy cooed, petting the cow's cheek, reassuring the animal then noting the ear tag on paperwork on the clip board.
Tenderly, but firmly, Scott felt the cow's neck and jaw looking for swelling.
"Here, feel." He placed her hand on the young cow's neck.
"I don't feel anything." She admitted after searching for some sign of swelling.
"Good. Cuz' there's no swelling. Mark that down."
Waiting until she finished documenting, he said. "Now the blood draw."
He put his gloved hand on the cow's neck. "First, using your left hand, find the jugular groove at the base of her neck. Like this." He explained.
She leaned in to get a closer look.
"A bit of pressure from your thumb helps to raise the vein, prepare it for draw. You try."
She touched the young cow's neck.
"Feel that?"
"Ah uh."
"Good. Disinfect the area with the alcohol wipe. Now, prepare the needle in the vacutainer holder."
He watched her tread the needle through the small hole in the plastic holder.
"Good. Then place your thumb there again. When you feel the vein rise, position the needle over the jugular groove. Hold the needle at an angle of about 45 degrees to the skin surface. Push the needle through the skin and into the jugular vein following the direction of jugular with the needle."
She did as told. "How's that?"
"Good." He replied. "Now fill the two red tops."
Finishing the draw, she put the tubes in the specimen bag and the waste in the sharps box, then they moved to the tail end.
"You fill the specimen jar about halfway. You know what to do."
"Hold this." She handed him the paperwork and specimen bag.
Scott then lifted the tail, she put her hand into the cows rectum. Pulling out, her glove was covered with feces. She made a face as she scraped the runny stool into the cup.
"You're becoming an expert."
She chuckled. "Poop expert. Great. Just what I always aspired to be."
The remaining nine weren't as docile and cooperative as the first, making Brett sweat jogging around the pen to trying to herd them into the chute. In the end, four of the yearling had swelling, in varying degrees around their neck and jaw.
Sometime during the process, Kit returned to watch, though neither Scott or Amy took notice.
As Amy filled the last cup with excrement, Kit asked her. "What's the verdict?"
Scott nod once in Amy's direction, signaling for her to answer.
"Well. No verdict yet. We have blood and fecal samples now. Until we get the results, anything more at this point would be speculation."
"Speculate."
"Four had swelling around their neck and jaw. It doesn't confirm anything. It's just another symptom."
"What are we trying to confirm?" she asked pointedly.
Amy looked to Scott, who simply stated. "Johne's."
She sighed heavily, shook her head. "If it is?"
"Cull. And we'll have to notify the province. They may require a quarantine."
She grimaced, then swore like a sailor.
"Whatever the outcome of those samples, we'll be fine, hon." Brett rubbed his wife's shoulder.
She nodded, tried to smile. "Well, you know what ranchers say... there's always next year."
As they walked back to the truck, Amy and Kit trailed behind the men.
"So vet school?" Kit asked.
"Yeah. I'm not accepted yet. Depends upon how this semester goes." Amy shrugged.
"I meant why did you decided to go in the first place? You've got a pretty good gig rehabbing and training horses."
"Yeah, I do." She conceded.
"So?"
"I want to help horses with the best combination of treatments. To do that, I have to know the science, biology, chemistry, you know, and diseases, treatments and medicines. All that stuff."
"Seems like overkill. You could always call a vet."
"Yeah. And I do." Amy sighed. "But, without schooling and a degree, it just seems that I am always waiting for someone else to validate my diagnosis and treatment methods."
"I get that. Sometimes I wish I had gone to college when I had the chance right after high school."
Amy nodded. "Yeah. Me too."
"Well, good luck with school."
"Thanks Kit."
The rest of the day didn't go as planned. In addition to all the labs to be processed, the other field calls Scott had scheduled lasted longer than expected.
An hour outside of Hudson, Amy called Alicia from Scott's truck.
"Hey. It's me. I'm still with Scott, I have to cancel. The day got away from us."
"You're supposed to use that excuse with Andrew, not with me." Alicia retorted.
"I know. I'm sorry. Can we reschedule for tomorrow night?"
"Are you going to bail again?" Alicia teased her.
"No. No. I'll be there. I've got something to tell you. I took your advice." Amy hinted.
"What advice was that? Does it have to do with Andrew?"
"Yes. But, I'll tell you all about it tomorrow."
"Sure. Keep me in suspense." Alicia groaned, then evened the score. "Oh. By the way. I have something to tell you too. It's very exciting."
"Is it about our vacation?" Amy hoped.
"Yes. But, I'll tell you tomorrow."
Amy pouted. "No fair!"
"All's fair in love and war."
"Oh really?"
"Love you!" Alicia said genuinely.
"Love you too." Amy signed off.
Nearly 7pm when she returned home, tired and hungry, she made two peanut butter and strawberry jam sandwiches and poured a tall glass of orange juice. Standing at the sink, scarfing down her dinner, she stared at the dining room table stacked with books, papers and flash cards. Finished, she reluctantly sat down at the table to study.
His voice downstairs seeped into the loft upstairs, easily distracting her.
Downstairs in the barn, Simon was saddling up Maggie May.
"Going for a ride?" She asked, making her way down the stairs into the barn below and to Spartan's stall.
"Yeah. Hectic day and it's a pretty evening. Wanna join me?"
"Yeah me too. A ride sounds nice." She pet Spartan's cheek, who responded by lipping her cheek back. "You want to go for a ride, don't you, my handsome boy? Let's see if Harley wants to go too."
"Dad rode Harley to check fences today. Hope that's okay."
"Oh? Um. How'd he do?" She moved to Harley's stall to pet him. Inside, Norton was rolled up in a ball in the corner on a pile of hay.
"He said he's a solid ride. That's high praise coming from dad."
"Harley. Hear that? You were a solid ride so you get the evening off. You and Norton can relax."
Hearing his name, the kitten opened one eye, stretched into a new position and went back to sleep.
"I see Norton is getting used to being a barn cat." Amy commented.
"Yeah. He still gets in my way though." He groused, though Amy didn't buy it.
Racing to the rushing river's edge, they dismounted so Spartan and Maggie May could rest and drink from the cool water. Standing side by side, they watched.
"We got a bunch of calls and e-mails today. Folks from all over wanting the famous Amy Fleming to fix their horse."
She laughed. "The famous one, huh? What did you say?"
"She doesn't work here any more." He deadpanned.
"Really?" She raised a brow, slight amused.
"No. I said we were full. To call back in 4 years." He smiled at her. "I didn't actually say the 4 years part."
"Wonder why people are calling all of a sudden."
"Andrew was in the paper." He informed her.
Amy nodded. "Oh. That."
"So you knew about?" He was surprised.
"Not until today, after it was already published."
"Oh. What did you think?"
She shrugged. "Andrew's worked hard to get the spot on the team. The death of his father was tough."
"I meant about you."
"Me? I don't know. He was being modest, gave me way too much credit. What do you think?"
"I think he was being honest. He wouldn't be on the team without you." He paused, then added. "He's in a bad way right now."
"What do you mean?"
"Come on Amy. Surely you can see that. You delivered a blow to his ego. Bet he's never been rejected by a girl, let alone a woman before."
"I didn't reject him. We're still friends."
"Don't kid yourself. Relegation to the friend zone is a rejection. You just can't get angry."
She sighed, ready to end the conversation. . "Let's get back. I want to work on Silvie a bit. Maybe I can get her to join up. Will you help?"
"Of course."
Simon watched her work with Silvie in the round pen until dusk. Loop after loop, the headstrong gray wildie kept running, disregarding her commands, resisting her attempts, pulling further away. Disappointed, Amy finally gave up. Silvie clearly wasn't ready, but more importantly, she realized that her mind wasn't focused or not v ncalm.
After studying for a bit, Amy showered, then fell into bed exhausted at 10. She was sound asleep by 10:02, Norton snuggled by her side.
Friday wasn't any less hectic, starting with a full day of class, including two quizzes, one she aced, the other she received a C minus, and a load of homework. On top of that, Cass came down with the flu so Scott asked her to work through evening shift, 4 to midnight, at the clinic, both Friday and Saturday nights. And, even though she agreed, she felt awful when she called Alicia to cancel their dinner plans again.
"I'm sorry, Alicia."
"Likely story Fleming. I feel like it's me that you've broken up with." She pouted.
"Alicia. It's not that." She admitted. "I can barely keep my head above water with clinic and class. And, even though I studied until I can't keep my eyes open, I almost failed my stat quiz today. I can't imagine what vet school is going to be like." Her voice was stressed. "If I even get in, which seems very doubtful at this point."
Alicia chuckled. "Oh Amy. That's how everyone feels when they start college."
"Yeah right. Bet you didn't."
"Ha! I was overwhelmed just like everybody. Did you know that I had to take chemistry twice? I had to drop it my first semester because I was failing the course."
"Really? I figured you breezed right through college. I mean, weren't you on an academic scholarship?"
"I was. But, college was different than high school. It wasn't the breeze like I expected it would be."
"So what changed?" She asked honestly.
"Me. I decided to become a doctor for me, instead of my dad. I recommitted to doing whatever it took. After that it was easier. I focused, buckled down and got through it. And, so will you."
"But, I can't even do a simple join up anymore." She groused.
"Silvie's a wild horse. You've always said that you have to give them more time."
"Still."
"What does Silvie have to do with becoming a vet?"
"May be school was a mistake." Amy lamented.
"Ridiculous. It only been a week, it's all new. You'll figure out how to balance things and establish a routine that works for you. Cut yourself a break. It will get better. I promise."
"Doubtful."
"Amy, you have to decide. Is becoming a vet what you really want to do?"
"I thought so. But now I don't know." She confessed.
"Amy. Did you have dinner?" She asked.
"No, but I'm not hungry anyhow."
"How about I bring by a veggie burger? Sweet potato fries? Your favs. My treat."
The clinic door bell rang. "Hey. Someone's here. I'll call you back."
As she disconnected, a sweaty Scott hurriedly walked in
"Hey Scott. I didn't expect to see you."
"I just left Big River. Sam Langston is headed over with his stallion. We need to prepare the surgical suite for an exploratory celiotomy."
She followed him into the back room. "Colic?"
"Yeah. It seems the large colon is impacted."
"Like Spartan?"
"Yeah. Are you up for this?"
"Yes." She responded without a second hesitation.
Darkness slowly gave light to a tranquil Sunday dawn. Slipping out quietly of the barn, riding Harley and ponying Spartan, Amy headed toward an open field of grass and wild flowers. Stopping at high point for the horses to graze, she dismounted, spreading a old gray tartan blanket on the ground. Gazing west toward the still snow capped mountains and the lush valley below, she sat crossed legged on the blanket, pondering her next words.
With a determined exhale, she muttered to herself. "Might as well get this over." She pulled out her phone and called his number.
He answered after a couple of rings. "Amy. Everything okay? It's early there."
"Hi Andrew. Everything is fine. We're out for a early ride. Spartan, Harley and me. How are you?" She started off on a positive tone.
"Okay, I guess. I hadn't heard back from you...you know, since the article."
"I know. I'm sorry. With school and clinic and everything, I have been crazy busy." She admitted.
"Yeah. I bet. How is school?"
"Harder than I thought. But good. I have so much to learn. What have you been up to?"
"I've been busy too. Practice, getting ready for competition, press conferences. Don't worry. I haven't mentioned you."
"I'm not worried. What competitions have you registered for?" She made conversation, just to steady her resolve.
"The Bromont National CSI. It's next week."
"That's a big one. I didn't realize you were staying in Bromont."
"We decided to give the horses a break from travel. We can get our points here."
"Makes sense. How is Dandy?"
"She's great, healthy. Sailing right over every jump. Even at 1.3 meters."
"That's a new record for her."
"Yeah. She misses you." He hedged. "I do too."
"And, I miss you both."
There was an awkward pause.
"Katheryn said you hadn't called. Her editor wants her to do a follow-up article."
"Sorry. I hadn't had the chance. I might this week."
"Okay. I'll tell her."
"Um. So..I've been thinking about the World Games."
"You're still coming, right?" He asked, uncomfortably.
"Yes. Absolutely. Alicia and I will be there, cheering you on. I'll be wearing the maple leaf too." She reassured him. "Or at least bring the flag."
"Good. I need you there."
"Andrew. I am sending you back all the tickets. Airplane, hotels, game seats." She dove in.
"What? No! You just promised you'd come." His voice went up an octave.
"We will be there. But, we're going to pay our own way. Andrew. Your gift is very generous. But, I can't no longer accept it now that we are just friends." She tried to be even and calm.
"They were a gift from me to you. You can't give it back."
"Andrew. You should give them to someone else." She ventured. "Maybe Katheryn?"
"Katheryn?" He repeated, surprised.
"Sure, why not?" She quickly added. "If she was there, she could write some great articles on you."
"Amy, please."
"I'll put them in the priority mail tomorrow. Okay?"
He said nothing for a few moments. "Is this because of the article?"
"No. Not at all. This is me wanting you to find happiness. You deserve it."
"You do too. Deserve happiness." He said quietly. "I just wish you could be happy with me."
They both fell silent.
"Andrew. Listen. I got to go. I'm doing field work with Scott again today. We'll talk later this week. Okay?"
"Okay. Bye."
After a good breakfast, Scott picked her up to do field calls. Once again, the day got away from them. Between delivering a colt first thing, stitching a donkey's hindquarter that torn open by a barbed wire, euthanizing the ten yearlings at the Bailey ranch and vaccinating Sam Langston's horses at Big River, Amy was once again on the phone with Alicia apologizing.
"Amy. I can't believe you're cancelling again. I am already at the Beet!" Alicia said in mild frustration.
"I know. I'm sorry. Scott promised to give me tomorrow night off."
Amy looked over at Scott, who nodded his okay, as he continued talking on his own phone.
"Paul. I'm sorry. Tell him we'll have to reschedule his visit to see Silvie. I'll check with the proprietor and get back with another date."
"We can have dinner together at my house. I'll even cook." Amy continued to plead with her friend. "Please?"
"You can't cook." Alicia shot back, half playing.
"We can have breakfast for dinner. I make a pretty descent breakfast."
Alicia thought for moment. "You actually do. Alright missy. I'll give you another chance."
"Good. Is 7 too late?"
"How about we meet at the Beet instead? You don't need to be cooking after a long day at school."
"Perfect. See you then." Amy readily agreed, relieved that she wouldn't have to cook.
As Alicia hung up her phone, Samuel, the Roasted Beet's owner, approached the usual table in the back corner.
"Hey Alicia. Amy not coming?"
She looked up at him. "Hey Samuel. Unfortunately not. She got caught up at work. How are you?"
"Can't complain." He answered the question the same way every time. "So. What can I get you today?" He pulled out his pad, pen poised.
"I'll have smoked salmon on an everything bagel, cream cheese, purple onion and capers. To go. Please."
"Very good." He made a note. "Salad or soup?"
"A salad sounds good." She looked at the menu again, pursed her lips. "Hmm. How about your clementine, avocado, pistachio, spinach salad?"
"With the cilantro lime dressing?" He asked.
"Yes. That sounds good. Thank you."
"Can I get you a hot tea or lemonade while you wait?"
"Oh a lemonade. Please."
"Coming right up." He made another note, then walked back toward the kitchen.
As she waited, Alicia pulled out a hardback book, Glass Houses, a murder mystery written her favorite author, Louise Penny, opened it to the marked page, and began to read. In high school, she had read the author's first book, Still Life, and had fallen in love with the main character, the Chief Inspector Gamache and the town of Three Pines. To her, the inspector was a perfect mixture of her dad and the Atticus Finch character in To Kill a Mockingbird, wise, humble, fair, gentle. Since then, she had read every single one of her 13 books, some more than once.
"Here's your lemonade, Alicia. Five more minutes on your dinner." Samuel said as he set the tall to-go cup of fresh squeezed lemonade in front of her.
"Thank you. No hurry." She looked up from her book, smiled, then took a long sip. "Good."
Returning to her book, she got lost in the court drama being played out on the pages. So engrossed, the jingle of cafe's door as it opened didn't catch her attention, nor did the conversation in the cafe.
"Welcome to the Roasted Beet Cafe." Samual approached the customer from behind the counter of the open kitchen. "Please sit anywhere you like."
"Thank you. Nice place you have here." The tall, fit man, handsome in the boy next door way, pulled out a chair and sat down at a table near the back.
"New to town?" Samuel handed him a menu.
"No. I had an appointment cancel last minute, so thought I'd have dinner before I headed back to Calgary." He explained.
"Gotcha. Well take a look at the menu. I'll be back shortly to get your order."
"Thanks." His eyes began to read over the menu as Samuel stepped to the next table.
"Can I get you anything Alicia?" He asked.
She looked up from her book. "No. I'm good. Thanks."
"Just a few more minutes."
She nodded. "No worries. Take your time." Her eyes dropped back to her book as he walked away.
Even though he held the menu before him, she caught his attention, she was all he could see. He was mesmerized by the way she twirled her long dark hair around her finger. How her downcast brown eyes seemed to reflected an inner light. How her nude lips parted, pursed, then parted again as she read. He imagined kissing them.
Several minutes later, Samuel placed the white paper bag, complete with paper handles and a big purple beet printed on its front, on Alicia's table.
"Salmon on an everything bagel, cream cheese and capers and a clementine spinach salad with cilantro lime dressing. Here's the check. Anything else, Alicia?"
"No thanks Samuel." She looked at the tab, pulled cash out of her wallet to cover her meal and a healthy tip. "Keep the change. Thanks!" She said, handing him the cash.
"Thank you. See you tomorrow night." He said.
"Right. Tomorrow night!" She chuckled, sliding her book into her purse. She gathered her things, then stood to leave.
"How do you like Glass Houses?" He blurted out the first thing he could think to say as he stood.
"Excuse me?" She noticed him for the first time.
"Your book? Are you enjoying it?" He tried again.
"I am. I'm actually reading it for the second time." She was intrigued by his boyish grin, his sincere eyes. "Um. Have you read it?"
"Yes, that one and the other twelve. I am big fan of Louise Penny and Gamache, especially."
"Me too. You know there's another one coming in November." She informed him.
"So I hear. Kingdom of the Blind. I can't wait." He swallowed to gather his words and confidence. "I know this is very forward of me...but, would you join me for dinner?"
"Well, I don't..." She hesitated, though she was tempted to say yes.
"Please. I'd like to just talk...about the book." He said, then gave her an out. "But, I understand if you have other things to do."
"Yes." She answered.
"Oh. Okay. I hope you have a nice evening." He held out his hand to shake hers.
"I mean, yes, I'd like to have dinner with you." She grasped his warm hand, held it. "I'm Alicia."
"It's my sincere pleasure to meet you Alicia." He never wanted to let her go.
Happy Sunday. And, happy reading.
SBR