Chapter 63 Battling the Memories
There was a long silence. “I was just wondering if you are okay,” she said finally.
“I’m doing very well, really,” he replied.
“This is crazy, but I miss you,” she blurted out. “I was thinking of coming for a visit.”
“That’s up to you,” he replied. He didn’t want to give too much away. “You’re always welcome for a visit.”
“Not right now,” she said. “Probably next summer.”
“That’s fine,” he said. “Let me know, though. I don’t want you to surprise me again.”
“You didn’t like my surprise before?” she teased.
“I didn’t mind it at all,” he answered. “However, next summer I am planning on going on the road more, doing seminars. I don’t want you to come expecting to see me and I’m not here.”
“That’s rather odd,” she said. “You never leave the homestead during the summer. Hell, Evan, you don’t even take a pickup up there.”
“I know,” he said. “I’m going to start turning things over to Casey.”
“That’s not like you,” she mused. “What’s up?”
He knew that she would read more into it than he intended. “It’s just time to expand a little. Casey has earned the right to do that job, and I don’t really have to have the money.”
“I’ve noticed that you have several other books out,” she said. “I’m guessing they are all doing well.”
“None of them have topped ‘Sam and Lucy’ yet,” he replied. “But, yes, they are doing well.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” she said. “You sound happy, but there is something else in your voice.”
She was trying to analyze him. He hated that. It was her profession that made her do it. She had started doing less teaching and more clinical work and was starting to sound like a Psychiatrist. “No, my mind was on other things when you called,” he lied. He wasn’t sure if she would see through it. It was only a partial lie, and he was a pretty good actor. He waited for her response.
“Okay,” she said. “I’m glad you’re doing well. I will let you know before I come.”
“No problem,” he replied. He was thankful that the conversation was coming to an end. “It’s good to talk to you. Thanks for checking up on me.”
“It was late, but it’s the thought that counts, right?” she said.
“Sure is,” he replied. There was an awkward pause as he tried to decide how to end the call. In the past, it was “I love you,” but that didn’t exactly fit right now. It did; he would always have feelings for her, but it was no longer appropriate. “Talk to you later, then.”
“Bye, Evan,” she said simply and disconnected.
Evan put the phone down slowly. His mind was racing over the conversation. What did she want? Why did she call? Did she really want to get back together with him? They had simply gone their separate ways without much drama or arguing. A part of him wanted to draw her back, but another part of him had buried the past and moved on. In that moment, his mind jumped to thoughts of Alexandra.
Alexandra had helped him realize what was in his soul. He had seen his own happiness and his own freedom reflected in her bright eyes as she discovered those things which had been a part of his life since birth. She called forth a deeper part of him that had, in many ways, taken those things for granted. It was the deep cry of his soul that had drawn her to him. It had gripped him almost immediately and had never let go. At first, he had believed that it was just the fact that he had been isolated from mankind; from womankind even more. However, that first kiss had straightened that out. There was something deeper and more powerful to it.
“I think I’m going crazy,” he told the two faithful companions who looked up at him from the comfort of their places on the couch. True to form, Sam rolled over on his back and offered his belly to Evan. He couldn't resist, and he sat down to scratch his belly. The action brought Lucy over to put her muzzle in his face.
“I’m crazy just like my two dum-dums,” he cooed, petting and scratching them both. He absorbed Lucy’s wet kisses, a couple of which caught him on the mouth. He leaned his face in next to Sam and nuzzled his face. Sam gave a couple of kisses of his own on Evan’s cheek.
Things weren’t as comfortable as they had been only moments before. Memories of Alexandra had kept him in a quiet and peaceful state. Thoughts of the possibility of a miracle that she would return often came to him, but he let them go as foolishness and held on to the sweet memories. Grace, on the other hand, had been completely removed from his thoughts, and then she’d forced her way back in. He couldn’t help wondering if he had been too hasty in letting her go.
“A bird in the hand...” he mumbled to himself as he rose from the couch and moved over to slide into the recliner. He looked at his empty hands for a moment, chuckled to himself, and reached for the remote control.
“There are his feet,” Evan said. He had his right arm buried all the way to his shoulder inside the birth canal of a two-year-old Hereford/Angus mix heifer. “His nose seems to be lined out right, but his feet are tucked up behind him. The heifer strained with the contractions, which were a natural part of giving birth. When things were going normal, many first-calf heifers struggled with giving birth. The ranchers were always searching for a better type of bull that would help ease the process, but often times things still got hung up. A smaller calf at birth, but which grew rapidly, was the most desirable option, but often times there was a trade off and the producer either got a large calf at birth which grew rapidly or a smaller calf at birth which did not produce the desired growth.
“He doesn’t seem to be too big,” Evan commented, grunting as he struggled to pull the first of the two slippery feet toward himself. “She probably would have him by herself if he were in the right position,” he said.
“Let’s go ahead and get him out of there,” Bob replied. “She’s strained long enough.” Oftentimes, there were other issues with a first-calf heifer if she struggled too long during birth. At times, in her exhaustion, she would not get up and tend to her calf in the first critical moments after birth and therefore not create that bond which was essential for raising a calf. When that occurred, there were several steps that the rancher had to go through in order to help them along. Most of the time, the heifer would come around, but on rare occasions, they would completely reject the calf. In such cases, the rancher would “transplant” the calf onto another cow whose calf had died.
“He’ll come right along now,” Evan said. He had both feet protruding out of the birth canal. He attached the two loops of the stainless steel chain to the calf’s feet and gave a pretty good tug. The heifer grunted and strained as she felt the pressure. “Hand me the hook,” Evan directed. “I think I can get him without the puller.”
Bob handed him the hook, and Evan attached it to the chain. It was nothing more than a handle with a hook on it that made it easier to pull. He didn’t use it often, because it was usually easier to just attach the puller, a device which was nothing more than a long pipe with a band of metal that was pressed against the rear of the cow on one end, and a come-along attached to the other. The hook of the come-along was attached to the chain and then cranked slowly to apply steady pressure in aiding the mother in giving birth.
“I got him,” Evan said as he saw the tiny wet nose and tongue on the white face of the calf breaking through the opening. He waited for the heifer to push again. It was better to let her feel like she was doing all of the work, or she would turn out to be lazy and would always need help. The hope was that after the first calf was born, nature would take over and the mother would have no more issues. Ninety-nine point nine percent of the time, that was true. When the heifer pushed again, Evan tugged on the handle, and the crown of the head popped through.