Unlike the black and white dairy cow named Tootsie, who for the most part remains in the pasture at all times unless it’s time to milk her—which is an interesting fucking experience—Agatha doesn’t have to follow the same rules. When I asked Aunt Colette about it, she compared Agatha to Houdini, and said when shewas a calf, she always found a way to escape the pasture. All she ever wanted to do was be in the yard where the chickens were, so eventually, my aunt stopped trying to contain her.
Essentially, Agatha thinks she’s an oversized dog, and to be honest…I don’t disagree. She’s really fucking cute and soft, and sometimes, it’s like she forgets she has huge horns coming out the side of her boxy head because she’ll bump them on this or that on the porch or in the yard. She’s started following me out to the barn as I feed the animals—including her—and get the horses out to pasture. When it comes time to muck the stalls, she’ll hang out at the door of the barn, observing as I go from stall to stall. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think she was a robot my aunt put into place to make sure I was properly caring for her animals.
Like clockwork, I’ve been out on the porch for about ten minutes, and up walks sweet Agatha. Her hair is flattened on one side of her head, like bedhead, further proving my guess that she strolls up here upon waking up.
“Good morning, Aggie girl.” I’ve found myself speaking to her like I would a baby. She seems to like it. “Did you sleep well last night? Get up to any trouble after lights out?” She, of course, doesn’t respond, but I continue as if she did. “No trouble for me either.”
My aunt’s been in the hospital for all of two days, I’ve been in town for five, and I’m already speaking to animals like I’m Dr. fucking Doolittle. Lord help my sanity when it’s time to leave this town.
Another new constant that seems to have made its way in my day-to-day since arriving strolls up the steps to the porch, dark brown cowboy boots pulled up over a pair of sinfully fitting gray sweatpants. Baseball cap flipped backwards on his head, Cope’s rich brown eyes light up as they meet mine, a blindingly white grin pulling on his lips. “Morning, city boy.”
As if this were his own porch, and he has all the right in the world, he plops down in the rocking chair beside me, reaching down to run a few stroking pets up and down the side of Aggie. In his lap is a clear Tupperware container with a red lid, the contents inside could be anything.
“You know you don’t have to come check up on me every morning, right?” Which he has. Monday rolled around when my aunt left for the hospital, and here showed up Cope, bright eyed and bushy tailed, ready to help. He also brings some sort of breakfast pastry each day, too. Yesterday, they were bagels that tasted so fresh, I could’ve moaned with each bite.
Cope chuckles, the sound deep and gruff, as he eyes me, a lazy shrug lifting his shoulder. “But if I don’t, nothing’ll ever get done properly. You city boys don’t know how to do nothing right,” he teases.
“Right,” I reply with a small laugh. “I was sure after Meadow kicked you yesterday, making you fall nearly in a pile of her shit, you’d never come back.”
He scrubs a hand down his face, fighting a smile, almost looking…bashful? “It was my fault for spooking her like that. I know better than to approach a horse where she can’t see me.”
“Yeah, rookie move,” I reply in a taunting tone. “I thought one of us was supposed to be a professional horseback rider.”
“Broncrider,” he groans. “There’s a big difference.”
I know that. Teasing him is just really fucking fun. Seeing him get all exasperated and huffy; it’s too cute to pass up. Guilt hits me thick and heavy at that thought. I shouldn’t be doing anything to cause acutereaction out of anybody who isn’t Henry. We’ve talked a few times over the last several days, finally. A few text messages throughout the day, some phone calls, we even FaceTimed the other night like I’d wanted. He’s busy with work; I get that. It just seems like ever since I toldhim I was coming here for a few weeks, things between us have been…distant. And I don’t just mean geographically.
Whatever. I can’t sit here and stress over the status of my relationship. Not when I currently have a million and one things to do on a daily basis.
Nodding toward the container in his lap, I ask, “What treat did you bring me this morning?”
Glancing down like he forgot it was there, he grabs the Tupperware, handing it to me. “Muffins,” he replies. “Apple cinnamon. I made them last night.”
“You…made them?” Taking them from his offering hand, I peel open the lid, the sweet scent wafting out, making my stomach grumble. I’m not normally a big breakfast person, but all this food he’s been bringing every day may just turn me into one. “These smellsooooogood.”
“It’s nothing special,” he replies, clearly trying to downplay himself. “They’re from a box.”
I take a bite out of one, the flavor exploding on my taste buds. A moan slips out before I can stop myself, and I fall back into the rocking chair. “Holy fuck, Cope. These are delicious.”
When I glance over at him, he’s watching me intently. Almost studying me, and when he swallows, I can’t help but track his Adam’s apple as it bobs in his throat. “Glad you like ’em.”
Holding out the open container toward him, I ask, “Want one?”
Cope nods, taking one. “Thanks.”
We eat a couple while I finish my coffee, and when we’re done, we head out to the barn to get started. He’s been coming here for several days now, and I feel like I’m getting the hang of what I’m supposed to do, so we work together and check everything off the list efficiently while still chatting. I’ve started to look forward to these mornings. When I first made up my mind to come here, I thought everything about this trip wouldbe dreadful, but between the gorgeous sunrises, Aggie, and Cope coming to help me, there’s nothing dreadful about this.
As we’re walking the horses out to the pasture, Cope asks, “What’s Washington like?”
“Nothing all that special,” I reply with a laugh. “I live in the eastern part of the state, which is desert-like. It gets hot as hell in the summer, and really fucking cold in the winter. It’s also flat and brown and boring. Not anything like the Seattle area where it’s lush and green and wet.”
“Have you traveled a lot?”
“Nah. I went to college in the next city over, and I’ve, of course, visited Seattle a few times in my life, but aside from coming here, I’ve only been to California once. And that was only because I went with Henry on a business trip he had to go on. It was pretty there, but too damn expensive.”
“Who’s Henry?” Cope asks curiously, and I freeze.
I didn’t even realize what I said. What if he’s a homophobe? Cope seems like a nice, genuine guy, but you never know, I am in the country after all. I could lie…but I kind of suck at lying, and the idea of not being truthful with him makes a pit grow in my stomach that I don’t quite understand.
