Sweat glistened on her forehead as she finally careened to a stop beside me, squinting in the brightness. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I smiled as she threw herself into me, wrapping her arms around my waist. Sometimes, I was taken aback to find her head reached my ribcage when only yesterday her face was the very inconvenient height of my groin. “Have a good day in town?”
“Meh, it was okay. Just hung at the mall. I’m getting bored of doing that. Would much rather be here with you.”
“I’d rather you be here, too.” I kissed her hair as she pulled away, looking at the unusual traffic on the paddock.
Her nose wrinkled as two incompetent city folk struggled to lift a bale and place it into their shiny new Ute. “What’s happening?”
“Free for all.”
“Uncle John is giving his hay away for free?” Her mouth fell open. “Whoa.”
“Not free, free.” I moved position and rested my elbows on the moss-covered gate. “I have to charge them as they leave.”
She eyed me carefully. “Having fun?”
I snorted. “Does it sound like something I’d do for fun?”
“Nope.” Her giggle made me so grateful that I had at least one person I could be honest with. Who knew me. The real me. Not the Ren Cassie flirted with, or the Ren John and Patricia nurtured. Ren, the runaway who’d never learned how to read and write.
She climbed the gate, her white sneakers blinding compared to my dirt-covered steel caps. “I can help…if you want?”
I ordered myself not to nod like a demented dog. Instead, I cocked my head and looked at her critically. “Think you can handle adding up hay bales and then multiplying by eight dollars?”
She frowned. “I think so? I dunno…”
“Well, how about you try one?” I suggested. “If someone had ten bales, how much would they owe?” I had to look away, hating that I was using her to double check I hadn’t been screwed over. A kid helping an adult do his job. What sort of asshole was I?
Della looked at the sky, her little lips moving before she announced with a flourish, “Eighty dollars.”
Great, he didn’t screw me.
I gave her a high five. “Awesome work. Your brain is a flawless machine.”
She beamed. “So…can I help?”
“I’d love your help.” The urbanites and their new Ute rolled toward us, their windows down and the wife fanning herself with her hat. “In fact, here’s your first client.”
Thank God, I had Della beside me because my heart itched with panic as my eyes flew over the stack of bales they’d chosen.
No way could I count and add that many.
The driver with his thin beard said, “We have twenty. What’s the damage?”
I should be able to snap out a figure. I wanted to. But unlike when it came to building something or surviving in the elements or seed management and crop rotation, my mind shut down and went numb.
Della’s soft, pretty voice piped up beside me, “That will be one hundred and sixty dollars, please.” She flashed me a look as the guy fisted out the bills and passed them to me.
I grunted a thanks and shoved it into my pocket with the rest.
As the car accelerated, giving room for a new customer to trundle across the paddock, I inched closer to Della and squeezed her shoulder.
She gave me a sad pout. “I forgot. I’m so mean.”
“Forgot what?” I whispered under my breath.
She kicked the gate, her spine rolling. “That you can’t calculate.”
I stiffened. “It’s not something I need to know in order to live my life.” Forcing a grin, I added, “That’s why I have you.”
She gave me a weak smile, moving away from my touch and toward the customers pulling to a stop in their black SUV.
The elderly man beamed at her. “We have three bales.”
She looked at the sky, counted, then said, “That is twenty-four dollars, please.”
The guy passed over three tens and Della turned to me. “Do you have change?”
Aside from yanking out all the bills in my pocket and checking what I’d stuffed in there, I didn’t know. Instead of embarrassing myself, I shook my head. “Sorry. We did specify correct change only.”
Della stood frozen. “What do I do?”
The driver assured her, “Keep the change, honey. Buy yourself something nice for the holidays.”
He took off before I could punch him for calling her honey.
For the rest of the day, Della was my calculator, business manager, and boss.
And each time she gave a customer a figure, I battled with the knowledge that I would never be her equal again as she was utterly brilliant, and I would forever remain adequately passable.
* * * * *
That night, I lay staring at the ceiling, doing my best to figure out how people took one number and multiplied it by another to form a different one.
I did what the TV show had mentioned, but try as I might, steps were missing that I didn’t have.