Chapter 25

Cal was driving along the County Road. The sun was climbing over the horizon of waist-high corn in the fields, but his attention wasn’t on the sunrise or the corn. His family’s farmhouse and barn weren’t too far in the distance. The call from Edwin had awakened him twenty minutes before.

“Hey, Cal, I think you better get out here,” his brother had told him over the phone. “I think Dad’s havin’ a heart attack.”

“Heart attack—are you sure?” Cal asked.

“Well, I don’t know,” Edwin had said. “He got chest pains when he came out to the barn this mornin’. He says if we leave him be that he’ll be okay in a few minutes. I don’t think I know what to do.”

So Cal stepped on the gas a bit harder as he saw the barn come into view. He had always wondered how many more years his father would be able to run the farm. If only Edwin had grown up a bit more...

Cal parked his car alongside Edwin’s and his father’s pickups. He hopped out and ran to the barn. Through the open the barn door he saw his father sitting on a hay bale, bent over and clutching his chest, panting to catch his breath. Edwin was standing alongside him. When Cal stood in the doorway he cut off a beam of sunlight shooting through the length of the barn and his father looked up at him.

“The worst is over now, Cal,” his father said between short breaths. “I’ll be able to start milkin’ in a few minutes. Sorry you had to come all the way out here for nothin’.”

“Like hell!” Cal said and then turned to his brother. “Where’s Ma?” he demanded.

“In the house; she don’t know nothin’ about this,” he answered.

“Oh, for crissake, Edwin! Go get her—go now!”

His brother turned to do what Cal said, but stopped in his tracks.

“That won’t be necessary!”

It was their mother standing at the barn entrance.

“What’s the matter out here?” she asked. “I was in the kitchen and heard the cows making a terrible racket. Why haven’t you let them in for milking?”

“Dad has chest pains, Ma,” Cal said. “You better take him to emergency in the pickup. It’ll be faster than waiting for the volunteer ambulance. I’ll call ahead and tell them you’re coming.”

He bent down to help his father to his feet. Edwin and his mother were standing frozen in place.

“Get the pickup over here,” Cal said to his mother. “Edwin, give me a hand.”

His mother ran for the house to retrieve the keys to the pickup truck and Edwin came to his father’s side to help him to stand up. By the time the three had shuffled to the entrance of the barn their mother was waiting in the pickup with the motor running. They helped their father into the passenger’s seat and fastened the seatbelt around him.

“Give us a call when you know anything,” Cal called after the truck as it whipped onto the county road.

Cal started to make his way to the house to call the hospital to alert them. As he ran, he paused and looked over his shoulder. The cows were mooing loud at the far end of the closed barn door. Their udders were overfull and the milking routine was behind.

“Get those cows in the barn, Edwin. I’ll be out to help you as soon as I get off the phone.”

His brother disappeared inside the barn to open up the far door. Cal ran to the house and made the call to the hospital. By the time he returned to the barn Edwin was starting to line up the herd at the stations.

“I called the Emergency Room,” he yelled to Edwin at the far end of the barn. “I’m sure Ma will call us when she knows anything.”

Cal and Edwin went to work as soon as the cows were lined up. Edwin began cleaning the udders and hooking up the cows in the first row while Cal took car of loading feed into the mangers. After he was done with that Cal got busy cleaning and hooking up in the second row. It reminded Cal of his old days on the farm.

Cal saw Edwin look at him a few times, as though he wanted to talk about something. But his younger brother had turned away each time. Cal wondered what was on Edwin’s mind, but it wasn’t the right time or place for conversation, anyway. Cal led the cows out to the pasture and then returned to help Edwin clean out the stalls and load manure on the conveyor for the honeywagon.

“Why don’t you go out and spread that and I’ll make us some breakfast while you do,” Cal offered.

Edwin nodded and started the conveyor motor. Cal waited a minute to make sure that all was working as it should and then turned toward the wash-up sink. He kicked off his rubber boots and lathered up his hands and arms with the disinfecting soap. The sudsy water disappeared down the drain. Farm work could make a man tired and dirty, but it felt good when the job was done.

He ambled off to the house to see what he could scratch together for breakfast. He found that his mother had been getting ready to make pancakes before she’d come out to the barn. Cal figured to just finish that. There was also a coffee maker with the makings nearby, so he got that going, too.

It was a little bit past eight. His mother hadn’t called from the hospital. Cal figured that was a good sign.

“If it was real bad they would have taken him in right away and Ma would have called us. They’re probably just waiting for some tests to come back and that’s why she hasn’t called yet.”

He knew Edwin would be busy for a while spreading the manure, so there was no hurry to mix up the pancake batter. Being in the kitchen reminded him of Roxie, whom he hadn’t thought about since the night before. He’d planned to look her up at the diner that morning and explain things.

“When she finds out why I had to come out to the farm she’ll understand why I didn’t look her up at the diner,” he reasoned.

The coffee finished brewing and he poured himself a cup. He sat at the kitchen table and told himself to relax. He glanced around the kitchen and out into the fields, where he saw Edwin on the tractor pulling the honeywagon. Nothing within his view seemed to have changed since he was a farm boy in that very place, not that many years ago.

He conceded that the microwave was new, but not much else. The old breadbox that he gave his mother one year for Mothers’ Day was still in its familiar, old corner. Cal wondered if his mother ever figured out that the old breadbox was never brand new—just a relic that he salvaged when they tore down the old Hurley Place and cleaned up and repainted.

“Well, there is one thing on this farm that isn’t the same as it used to be,” he sighed, knowing that no one was present to hear him. “That’s me. I’m not who I used to be. It was a good life, but I left it and I can never come back.”

He felt himself gasp in a short breath. He knew that what he’d just uttered was true—and final. He felt something heavy in his chest that was new to him. It was unpleasant, but the moment that he accepted the discomfort for what it was it began to fade...

“Do you think that Dad had a heart attack?”

Cal hadn’t heard Edwin come in. He spun around and his brother was standing at the entrance of the kitchen. He wasn’t wearing his wise-guy expression, for once. He was looking at Cal in a funny way—like he expected the answers to all his questions would flow out of Cal at any moment.

“Maybe a small one,” Cal answered, “but more likely a warning to get his attention. At least, that’s what I hope it is.”

“Ma didn’t call, did she?” Edwin asked.

“No. I think if it was really serious she would have called right away. The fact that she hasn’t called means that they’re doing the waiting game that most people do in the hospital.”

“I suppose so,” Edwin mumbled.

Cal finished his coffee and stood up. He went to the counter where the ingredients to the pancake batter were waiting in a big mixing bowl. He put the griddle on the stove and turned on the burners to warm it up.

“Pour yourself some coffee and set the table. By the time you do that, I should have some pancakes ready.”

Edwin put out some plates and utensils, and some butter and syrup. He picked up his coffee cup and sat at the table waiting for Cal to finish.

“Whatever it is, I don’t suppose Dad will be back to work soon,” Cal heard his brother say.

Cal glanced over and he saw his brother looking at him. Cal knew what Edwin had on his mind.

“Hard to tell, Edwin. He’ll be out for a short time, at least. I’ll give you a hand to keep the farm running for a while. If it gets to be long-term, you might have to think about bringing on a hired man—or doing it yourself.”

Edwin turned his head and was staring out the window.

“I hadn’t even been thinking along those lines,” he said.

“Well. You’re going to have to start thinking about a lot of things, Edwin. Even when Dad comes back he won’t be able to work at the pace he used to. You’re going to have to step up and...”

“I got an idea,” Cal’s brother interjected. “Why don’t you move back out and work on the farm full time? It could be...”

“What are you talkin’ about, Edwin?” Cal scoffed.

“I saw you workin’ in the barn this mornin’. Ya haven’t forgot a thing,” Edwin said. “You’ve always been good at it—better’n me, for sure. And I’d bet that you’d be a lot happier out here on the farm than in that stuffy office downtown doin’ whatever lawyers do.”

Cal shook his head. After all the fighting he’d done with Edwin over the years—the latest only a few weeks ago—how his brother could be thinking ... His brother’s face rose and his eyes were big and full of life.

“We could buy Slater’s Hundred across the creek and add more stock. We could make the farm big enough to support three families. You, Dad, and me. What d’ya say?”

Edwin slapped his hand on the table, like an auctioneer closing the bids. Cal lifted the pancakes off the griddle and onto a waiting plate. He joined his brother at the table.