“Won’t it bother you if I’m in here cooking meat?”
Becki hesitates, and her brows scrunch up. “Yeah, I guess it does, but I realize not everyone lives this lifestyle, and the way I think about things isn’t for everyone. The haters say I live in this fantasy world, but I’m actually quite realistic. So, go ahead. I’ll just try and stay outside when you’re cooking it and when it’s in the fridge, I’ll make sure I don’t look at it.”
“I can keep it in the grocery bags.”
“Thanks.”
“I could give you a warning when I’m going to cook it.”
“That’s fine. I think it’s pretty obvious. Anyway, this is about you and the sanctuary. It’s about what your grandfather wanted, and I’m going to do my best to make it happen, which is why I’m opening my home and making an effort to get along.” Becki picks up the second last lettuce leaf, gives me a big grin, and walks right out the back door.
I stare at the one remaining lettuce wrap thing she’s made. She left it there, no doubt on purpose.
On impulse, I lunge for it. I inspect it closely for insects and dirt, seeing as improperly washed lettuce can be seriously risky, but it looks fresh, green, and crisp. I take a bite. It’s surprisingly not that bad. Even the hummus. And the avocado. The tomato is tangy, and the lettuce has a different taste than what comes from the store. It’s more fresh and delicious.
Since I’m in the mood for a distraction, I eat the whole thing. Thinking about Becki was simpler than thinking about my grandfather but eating the lettuce wrap is simpler than thinking about either.
Because neither is easy.
CHAPTER 4
Becki
I always save time after lunch for animals who need physical therapy. Luckily, right now, almost everyone is doing okay. I just have a lamb named Lindy to work with. She’s my newest rescue. I’m just about at full capacity, and it terrifies me because I can’t imagine saying no to someone who really needs me. Like I was telling Finn, I can always contact other rescues as we have a pretty good chain of communication. I could also do some driving to make sure an animal in need gets a great forever home where they’re going to be safe and loved, but other than that, it feels like my hands are tied, which sucks when they are animals in need.
I walk into Lindy’s stall in the barn and find her huddled in a corner—not painfully, just lying down and resting. She doesn’t exactly need physical therapy. At least not on her body. But her spirit? Well, that’s another thing.
Lindy’s mom died shortly after giving birth to her. The vet couldn’t save her mom, and since the people who owned those sheep didn’t have time to bottle feed a baby, the vet recommended she be given to someone who could. Lindy’s previous owners really dragged their feet on that, as losing one sheep is bad enough. Losing more of their livestock meant less profit. They thought Lindy could just find another mom—another sheep who would nurse her. It was two days before they found her, collapsed in the barn, too weak to move.
They did the right thing. I mean, they could have just given up on her, left her to die, and written her off as one more loss, but instead, they drove her to Topeka, to the vet’s office. The vet called me, and I rushed down to get her. The vet did what he could to get her hydrated and fed, but at the time, we weren’t sure she’d make it.
It’s been a few weeks, and while Lindy’s body is getting stronger and she’s proved to be a fighter, she still prefers to be alone instead of bonding with the other sheep. I’m a really small sanctuary, and I only have three other sheep, but they are all very friendly. Lindy isn’t just intimidated; she’s a bit of a lost soul. I’ve tried gently introducing her to other animals, hoping she might find a friend, but so far, she hasn’t.
“Hey, Lindy,” I whisper as I drop onto the fresh hay beside her.
She doesn’t lift her head, but her dark eyes tilt up at me. She doesn’t wag her little tail like other lambs do. I run my hand over her soft face and continue down her chin. Slowly, but eventually, she lets me ease her head into my lap to stroke.
“You’re safe, honey. You’re always going to be safe here. I love you. You have such a great life waiting for you and so many friends to make.”
Lindy breathes softly under my caress.
“We have someone new here. No, he’s not a rescue. At least, I don’t think so. Not mine, at any rate. It was his grandfather’s idea. You never got to meet Henry. He was amazing. He wants his grandson to learn that there are other beautiful parts of life, but I’m sure, right now, he just sees it as a huge mess. I can tell. He looks at me like he’s never seen a pair of overalls or rubber boots before, and he looks at this place like it’s the butthole of his entire world. For him, maybe it is, but for me, this is my everything. No, I’m not offended. I knew it would be like this. Honestly, I’d try and purposely annoy him, but I know it’s not going to get anyone anywhere. Making him shovel poop out here or help with feeding or help with anything—yeah. He’s not into it. I’m not going to ask him to do it until he is more receptive because it wouldn’t mean anything otherwise.”