I realize this is indeed what my grandfather fell in love with when he met her—her passion and the way she sees the world. That’s what he wanted me to see. No, Becki would never fit in with most people’s idea of success or inspiration, but she certainly is—successful and inspiring. And a thousand other things, all in her own right and in her own way.
“Well, now that another long-winded speech is out of the way—you know all about the sanctuary, and now you know my life story as well—how about we shovel poop?”
“It seems like a never-ending job.”
“Believe me,” she says, grinning and pointing to a shovel at the far side of the wood wall. “It is.”
CHAPTER 10
Becki
Well, all heck on deck, I think I’m going to be able to trust Finn with more than just shoveling manure, which he did with fervor and gusto. It’s amazing how one big, strong, muscly man can get a mountain of poo taken care of. We got the barn clean in less than half the time it usually takes me, and I was able to go out and enjoy the afternoon with the animals while telling Finn all about them. It was a good afternoon. After that, he helped me whip up everyone’s dinner, and we also weeded the garden, ate our own supper, and got everyone settled for bed.
I have the animals on a schedule, and I made sure we didn’t deviate from it, but now that I’m back inside the house, ready to jump in the shower, I have to say, I’m astounded by the amount of potential free time I’ll have during the day.
I’m not bone dead exhausted like I usually am, either. The night is still young, my friends, and I have the energy to tackle a ton of social media updates. I had my camera out while we were walking around, taking photos of the animals for long-needed updates. I also photographed the barn and garden, and I had the idea of doing an update on both. The garden post will be packed with recipes for fresh vegetable dishes, and I’m also going to do a thank you post for the shelter and for the group who took on the little calico sweetheart. I usually try to write posts about medical issues as they arise, partly to raise awareness and partly for fundraising. Every rescue group could use more courtesy posts and people who fall in love with what rescue means and want to support that, even if it’s just sending good vibes.
Believe me when I say, on some days, I wouldn’t have made it through without those well wishes, thoughts, good vibes, and positive words of encouragement.
Normally, I shower the way a person leaps in front of a train careening down the tracks—in and out with the speed of light. It’s a miracle I even have time to get wet in there.
But not tonight.
Tonight, I take my time.
Under the hot spray, my muscles relax. I can’t remember the last time I actually enjoyed the cascades of warm water without worrying about what I should be rushing off to do. I also can’t remember the last time I used the bathtub upstairs. Down here, in this bathroom, there’s just a small walk-in shower. The bathroom down here was redone in the late nineties to add a shower and remove the ancient tub, but it was so much work that the upstairs bathroom still remains the same, clawfoot tub included. The sucker weighed so much that I don’t think anyone could think of how to get it down the stairs. Short of opening up an upstairs wall and pitching it out, they were likely out of options. My Great Aunt would never have stood for someone throwing a bathtub off the second story of her house, so it’s still there.
I’m glad. Clawfoot tubs are big, luxurious, and romantic. I know I could fully stretch out up there. You know, if I ever had time. Or the inclination.
I let Finn have that bathroom up there, but now I’m kind of regretting it. It would be nice to soak my weary muscles once in a while. Unfortunately, as per the usual way it is with people, I’m only now realizing it, now that it’s off-limits to me. I never missed it before.
The shower will have to do.
I turn up the warm water and let it cascade over my long hair and down my back. It feels like heaven. My shoulder muscles are stiff, not sore, but the hot water works miracles. I know I’m awake, but I kind of feel like I’m dreaming, especially when the thoughts come stealing back into my brain.
Thoughts of Finn.
Not just thoughts. I can see him as he was earlier this afternoon, bending over in those jeans that flexed just right around all his rock-hard bits, and every bit of him is clearly rock hard—his giant legs with his powerful thigh muscles, and his abs, straining through the fabric of the world’s most sinful and tempting t-shirt. Even his feet looked sexy, clomping around in those big boots. Okay, so it wasn’t his feet I was looking at because the combination of his abs and bottom just about killed me. I didn’t know shoveling poo could be so…so…sexy. Provocative? Deliciously magnetic?