"Harvard Comes to Montana", Chapter Two
by Griz
umgriz@protonmail.com
Howdy, Pardners;
(Okay, we don't really say stuff like that.....)
Thanks for continuing with the story. Jeff and Marc are having night-and-day differences in their Summer in Montana, and they're definitely on each other's mind. Part of this story is autobiographical, but I'll admit most of it is just a fantasy. One particular aspect of the story, though: the different old-world cultures in Fergus County. Jeff's family name, Wojtowicz, means "from the town of Wojto". It's pronounced "Voy-TOY-vitch". You know; just like it looks! Gremaux is another old name there. French. "GROO-mow" (as in "mow the lawn"). Tuss is.....well, that one IS what it looks like. We also have Welsh folk here, and several Croatian families who were master stonemasons.
You'll meet more of the people who ARE Fergus County, Montana.
This chapter, like One, is focusing on the two understanding each other, as well as themselves. The attraction is mutual, but this is kind of like the dog that chased the car and caught it: now what? I promise these guys are not in the story to be celibate (that's my job, apparently.....)! This is a romance, but Jane Austen, I ain't; and the length of this chapter might make you think I'm inspired by Leo Tolstoy. Subsequent chapters will be more like the first. Thank you for reading more about Jeff, Marc and the farm.
*** The following story is a work of erotic fiction. If you are under the age of 18 or if this type of fiction is prohibited in the location where you are reading this, do not read any further.
All characters and names are creations of the author. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental.
Please show your support for Nifty, a great organization that gives opportunities to all types of authors to express themselves. To find out how you can contribute, go to donate.nifty.org/donate.html ***
I ran back to my old truck, roared it to life, racing on the gravel road back to town. I didn't know what was involved in someone having a stroke; it hadn't happened in our family before. But for anything and everything, there has to be someone in every family who is The First to experience a disease. To keep my mind from racing faster than my truck, I turned the radio on and got the NPR station's Morning Edition. I felt around for my phone, but I must've left it in the house before I drove out the first time today. Not smart, Jeff.
I saw Eva still in her coffee hut, and no one else in line. I pulled up and broke hard. She opened the window and smiled at me, but once she could see I wasn't smiling, she stayed quiet.
"Eva! My dad is in the hospital. Mom took him. I don't have my phone. Write this number down and call my brother. Tell him what's going on, and to call me at the hospital!"
I gave her Anders' number. She nodded and reached for her phone as I drove off again. Maybe another ten minutes and I was in the hospital's parking lot. I ran in the building, and before she could greet me, good ol' Maretta de Marco pointed in the direction where my parents were. I'd say "hi" to her later.
I got to the nurses' station, and Beth Petersen looked right up at me and told me my dad and mom were in the intensive care unit. I asked if I could go in, and she led me down the short hallway to the glassed-in room. A doctor and nurse were at my dad's bedside. Mom was on the other side by the window, holding his hand. Dad didn't look well. He had no color in his face, but I could tell he was still alive. I ran right over to my mom and gave her a big hug. She hugged me, but with only her free arm. I knew she would not let go of Dad.
"Hey, Doctor Avery. Hey, Bron. What's going on with my dad?"
"Jeff, your dad had a couple of strokes. The first one was at your house, and wasn't very severe. Your mom was able to get him into the car and bring him here. He suffered a subsequent stroke, and is now unresponsive. This is going to be a big challenge for him. At this point, I don't know what his prognosis is. Maria, if we're going to get him to Billings, we need to move fast."
"How long will it take the plane to get here?", I asked.
"An hour, once they get a crew. I'd say 90 minutes, give or take."
"So, then another hour to get back to Billings airport, and an ambulance to the hospital?"
"That's about right, Jeff."
"Get the plane. Mom, you and I are driving there. Give me the keys to your car. I'll get you some clothes and stuff, and be back here in 30 minutes. We can fuel up at Wrangler Mart and be in Billings before Dad gets there."
My mom just looked at me like she didn't know who I was. She wasn't used to me going all Alpha; it just wasn't my personality. She told me she always keeps an overnight bag packed, just in case she has to go anywhere, like to a neighbor's (what did I tell you?). I got the keys from her, and gave her a kiss on her forehead. I leaned over to my dad and kissed him, too. I walked quickly back to the nurse's station.
"Hey, Beth; I'm going back to the ranch to get some stuff. Dad's going to Billings, and I'll be back to get my mom and drive her there. My brother is going to call here for me. Please relay all this to Anders, and have him call me on my cell in about 30 minutes."
Just as I finished, her phone rang. She answered as I walked away. She called after me.
"I just told Anders. He wants you to call him as soon as you get to a phone, Jeff!"
I shouted back to her, "Okay! Back as fast as I can."
I tore out of the hospital fast. Much faster than I ran in, and that was already probably my personal best. My old truck, a trusty steed if ever there was one, got me back on the highway and in no time, I was in the house and up the stairs to find the roll-on suitcase my mom told me about. I grabbed my gym bag and stuffed in some clothes and hygiene things for me, too. I didn't know how long I'd be there, but I was packing for two days. I wanted none of us to be there past tomorrow morning, but I am not a medical student, and this is the first such medical emergency in our family.
All I wanted was for my mom to be okay. My dad was getting the best care he could at the moment. Nothing was being done for her, if only because she was her own least concern. Always putting everyone else first, my mom. I grabbed my phone and the charging cables for it and my watch, threw (really) everything into the second row of Mom's Expedition, and was back on the graveled county road in no time.
I drove at probably the top speed her Blue Beast was capable of on that road, and noticed red and blue lights flashing as I approached the intersection with the highway. My immediate thought was someone had an accident right there. Or the highway patrol already anticipated me speeding and was laying in wait. Sure enough, he was: Dan Gremaux. My brother's best friend in high school, now one of two state police for Fergus County.
As I was within 50 yards of him, Dan pulled out onto the highway, lights flashing, and drove ahead of me into town. He sped up to 85, a clear sign he was piloting me back to town. Damn, word travels quickly. I passed the coffee shack and Eva smiled and waved at me as I passed. No doubt she alerted Dan, since he'd frequent the shack throughout his shift. Regardless, I was grateful to them both. This would never happen in Marc's Cambridge or Seattle. Not even Missoula.
Marc. Ah, geez.
I caught myself thinking with regret that our `second date' was almost certainly not going to happen; not with this emergency. Nor would I think he'd expect it to. Today had been.....incredible. I knew I was making more of it than I should have, but holy fuck, is that man hot. And brainy. I didn't know it at the time, but my attraction isn't just to a nice face and body. If the brain isn't engaged, I'm not going to stay interested for long in a handsome face and hot body. He's going to be in the state for another week or so. That's good. I hope we can see each other again while he's here. I really hope so, whether he's in full professor of history garb or running shorts. Okay, so maybe more running shorts and less dress slacks, but with Marc? I'll take him however I can get him. Anyone with sense would.
I could feel my dick get hard for the how-many-times-already-today. I stopped keeping count. I think Paco didn't care, either; he just liked standing up and stretching, and I wasn't about to object. Dan slowed right down, and I did, too. He led me right up to the covered parking lot where the ambulances were kept. I leapt out of the car and waved at him as I raced back inside.
"Thanks, Dan! I owe you, Bud!"
Dan smiled, shook his head "no!" and waved back at me. That's Dan. Always The Other Brother in our house, and despite ten years having passed, he was as much "one of us" now as he ever was. And for that, I'm grateful. We are a small community, but with acres and acres of heart. It's Fergus County's most bountiful, valuable crop.
I got inside and autopilot took me right back to my dad's room. Mom was now getting anxious and fidgety, wanting to get Dad to Billings so we'd know what his outlook would be. Both of us are practical, and we know it's in everyone's best interest to be prepared for the worst while hoping for the best. A full disabling stroke would present more than just a challenge for Dad; it would double my work load, if not increase it exponentially. Would we have to hire someone? Well, there I go again.....counting chickens before they've hatched. Gotta work on that someday, but not today.
"Mom, I'm ready to go if you are. Dad, we'll see you in Billings. Enjoy your flight, and don't give the flight attendants any problems!"
I leaned and gave a longer kiss on his forehead while holding his hand. Oh, Daddy; please wake up. Let's go ride the horsies and see the baby geese, Daddy!
Please, Dad. Just one more ride?
Mom hugged and kissed Dad one last time, and she began to drop tears. She asked the doctor if he was sure she couldn't go with him on the plane, but there just wasn't the room necessary for that. Driving there with me would get us there before Dad, and give us time to meet the team of doctors and nurses who would be attending a 55 year old stroke victim.
We got out of the hospital and to the car, and drove to the gas station. Five minutes and ten gallons later, the tank was full and my wallet was empty. I'd hit an ATM in Billings, and could also rely on Mom to have cash in her purse. Once on the road, my phone rang. My brother. I handed the phone to Mom and she slid the call open.
"Oh, Andy! Yes, we're going now. Jeff's driving. I couldn't even think of driving at the moment. Oh, you are? Jeff, Andy is going to meet us in Billings. That's wonderful, Honey. Thank you. It'll mean so much to your dad. All right, we'll see you there. Drive carefully!"
The call concluded, the car returned to silence as we drove East toward Montana's largest city, Billings, population 85,000. Dan was laying in wait at the truck weigh scales, and like before, pulled out in front of us and had his lights on and engine roaring. That allowed me to increase from 65 to 80, and I took it. He could only go to the county line, but that would be 50 of the 115 miles to Billings. My phone rang again, and it was Dan.
"Jeff, you're talking on your phone while you're driving. That's not a good idea! And now I see you're doing 15 miles per hour over the speed limit. Kids these days!"
"HA! Dan, you are my enabler! Thanks for the escort earlier this morning, and for now. We'll get there ahead of schedule. Oh, Dan; really? You are incredible. Mom, Dan has a trooper ready to bring us fast into Billings when we hit the county line. Dan, Mom is smiling and crying. You'd better count on a thank-you dinner of Black Angus rib steaks and all the fixin's when we get this all sorted out. Hell, you can choose the steer! Okay, I'll tell her. Thanks again, Dan. I'll tell him when we see him at the hospital. Okay; talk with you later!"
For the rest of the drive, Mom and I talked about contingencies, depending on Dad's health. She pulled a yellow pad out of her purse and began making notes about everything: conversations with the health professionals; moving furniture; farm logistics; updating his will; conversations with the accountant. Lots more, too, no doubt. Mom is very organized, and the best person to get ink on paper with goals to be met. It'll also give her something to do for 65 more miles of travel.
I was lost in my own thought.
What could this mean for college? If Dad recovers, that's one thing. That's also a big if. He and Mom both are 55 years old, but have lived 75 years in their bodies running a ranch. Two strokes in two hours.....I don't know what that could mean. Full recovery? Partial? If he doesn't get out of this unscathed, then of course I'll have to stay and assume responsibilities. Not the future I'd planned, but I know the job and can handle the work I was born and raised to do.
I thought of many things.....including Marc Taylor. I wanted to see him again, although it could be for the second and last time. With his grandparents moving out of state, he'd have no reason to return to Fergus County. I got my handsome stud for a few minutes, and that's gonna be a memory I'll enjoy for a long time. I'll at least have that.
Mom would alternate looking out the passenger window and then resume writing on her notepad. I couldn't see what was consuming three pages already, but I didn't interrupt her. My own mind was making lists, and I'm sure much of what we were thinking was mutual, immediate concern for the ranch. Just as we passed through Roundup, my phone rang. It was my brother. I had connected it previously to Mom's car radio, so this would be an easily understood speaker call.
"Hi."
"Hey. Where are you and Mom?"
"Passing through Roundup. We're getting a patrol escort by another trooper all the way to Billings, and should be at the hospital in maybe 30 minutes."
"I'm about the same distance way. St Vincent's? How's Mom?"
"I'm hanging in there.....I just want to get there and see your father walk out of the hospital later today, but I don't think that's how this will work....."
"No, maybe not. I got two hotel rooms at the Sheraton across the street. You can get some rest, Mom."
"Thank you. I don't know how I'd manage without you boys. Jeff and I will see you soon. You're driving carefully.....right?"
"As carefully as Jeff is. You know how we do."
"HAHAHA!!! That I do! See you soon, Dear; and thank you for coming. Your father will be happy to see you."
I said my goodbyes to my brother, too. Being the Antediluvian Luddite he is, not only was his phone not connected to his car's radio, it wasn't connectable at all, to anything. Not even a speaker. He bought the last flip phone ever made, and was probably on a 100 minutes per month calling plan. It is not the only example of my brother being either very foolish or very wise.
In no time, we were in Billings and speeding down the streets of a still mostly-empty town at 8:00 on a Sunday. We drove 135 miles in 80 minutes. As we approached the hospital, the patrol car turned its lights off and honked, the officer waving his hand out the window at us. I would later learn from Dan who the officer was, and thank her or him for the fast trip.
I found a parking space right at the front door, and Mom and I hurried in. It was good to stand after the stressful drive and stretch our legs. Another 50 feet and we saw presumably a doctor talking with two nurses. When the three saw us, they looked at each other and then us, and approached. We identified ourselves, as well as our father coming in by plane.
The doctor asked us to come with him to his office so we could talk. The look on the nurses' faces communicated everything I was dreading. My mother did not notice, and walked along side the doctor away from the station. I looked at the nurses. They could see by my own expression that I was reading them correctly. The smaller of the two said,
"You should join your mother and Doctor Phelps....."
Both of them walked with me, and one knocked on the closed door. Doctor Phelps bid us to come in. Soon five people were in the small office. Mom was the only one sitting. No one spoke. Finally the doctor sighed and looked at Mom and me. I felt like I was about to faint.
"I'm sorry. While in flight, about 30 minutes ago, Mr Wojtowicz suffered a heart attack, and could not be revived. At this time, I'm fairly certain it was directly related to the two strokes he had already suffered."
"Oh....." was all Mom said, as her entire body just slumped. She looked at her hands. I moved to stand closer to her side, and put my hand on her shoulder. She leaned against me. Tears had not yet begun to flow from either of us, but it was only a matter of time. My only thought now was not the health of my father---that was no longer a concern. Now I was thinking only of getting our mother through this moment, and all those that would follow. I had the strange thought that all of us were stranded for awhile now.
A moment later, a knock at the door, and the nurse opened it. My brother walked in, exchanging places with one of the nurses. As college professors seem keenly able to do, he read the room and knew what had happened. He moved immediately to the other side of our mother, and took her hand in his own. He had the foresight, though, to get more information.
"How long until the flight arrives, and he's brought here? And when can we see him?"
"I expect Mr Wojtowicz will be here in less than half an hour. You are welcome to stay in this office, if you'll be comfortable until.....he is here. Can I have something brought for you to drink?"
My brother, mom and myself all wanted coffee and cream. The nurse said she'd return with plenty for everyone, and walked out for that mission. The four of us remained, and although no one asked questions, the doctor answered what we'd likely have asked. Pa was monitored and attended the entire flight by both an EMT and a nurse. They attempted CPR as well as use of the shock device. We were not contacted by phone while we were driving as that could've put us in dangerous situations.
Once in the hospital, an autopsy could be performed, but was not mandatory, if Mom would rather not submit Dad to one. She decided there would be an autopsy to determine the exact cause of death, if only for us boys' sakes. We were carbon copies of our father, and we'd often compared our health and health history with his own. I knew why Mom wanted to understand any causes that could be a concern for us, too.
We had the coffee and while we waited for the plane to arrive at the airport and then the ambulance to the hospital, I excused myself from the office to walk around and process all that had happened today, and use the restroom for the first time since I got up this morning. I walked back toward the front of the hospital, the entire wall of glass, and looked out at the Sun now higher in the sky, and workers in commute to their jobs. I felt my phone buzz in my back pocket, and pulled it out to see a text message from a number I didn't recognize. I looked to see it was a text from Marc:
"Hi, Cowboy; did that huge breakfast put you into a diabetic coma? I wasted no time organizing my Grampy's garage so only the things he wants to take will be boxed up. I'm optimistic this process will go more smoothly than I thought."
I smiled, but it was a bittersweet smile. He shared some good news from his end, but I needed to counter that with my own less-than-pleasant moments since he and I parted only two hours ago. I called him rather than respond via text.
"Coma.....my father fell into one early this morning. He had two strokes, and was then life-flighted to Billings. He suffered a fatal heart attack during the flight. The plane has not yet arrived where my mother, brother and I are waiting for him. I don't know anything more at this point. I am numb. I have not cried for my father. I am scared for my mother. I now have a thousand things to do, and I don't know how to prioritize everything. Anything. I am not prepared for this, Marc."
"Jeff. I'm sorry. I'm sorry too for my comment.....I....."
"Thanks, Marc. You didn't mean anything bad by it. There will be an autopsy here for the exact cause of death. So, probably back in town Sunday, but maybe today. Funeral arrangements will have to be made, but I think Mom and Dad had all that preplanned."
"Please don't hesitate to tell me how I can help you and your family. And I'm so sorry about your father, Jeff."
"Thanks.....my brother will probably come back to Lewistown for awhile after.....well, the funeral. We need to talk about everything. I'm unprepared for the rest of my life, which has changed suddenly. The only thing I'm focusing on right now is helping my mother. I'd like to see you, Marc; but I don't know how or when. You'll probably be long gone before I'm ready to be pleasantly social again."
"I committed to my grandparents to be here to help them prepare for their move, and to get them to their new home and settled in. I hope we can meet again. I will certainly pay my respects at your father's funeral, if you choose to have one."
"Okay, thanks. I'd better get back to my mom and brother. Dad should be here soon. Thanks for the conversation. Talk with you later, Marc. Um, I'll keep you up-to-date on my movements here."
"You have no obligation to acknowledge or answer texts from me. Please just think of my texts as me waving to you. That's all. Until whenever: I will be available to you if you'd like to talk. Later, Jeff."
"Thanks, Marc. Later."
I ended the call feeling.....I don't know what. Distracted for a moment, I guess. Marc was a decent man, and I know he didn't mean anything with his coma comment. Under other circumstances, I'd have laughed. I looked out at the parking lot of the hospital begin to fill with vehicles. Visiting hours must be beginning. I turned to walk back to the doctor's office. I saw my mother standing, held in my brother's arms. No wracking sobs....she just looked tired. My brother looked as lost as I felt. He and my father were not close. I don't think my father understood Anders' desire to pursue a career in education, even if it was agriculture. Anders has a natural and patient ability with teaching, and he was regularly on the "best-loved" list of teachers and professors at Montana State University. I wondered if he was thinking along the same lines I was: what happens now?
My brother, mother and I huddled alone for a moment or two. The doctor returned to advise we could see my father now. He was in a private room just off the emergency ward. We walked into the darkened room, and mom wailed immediately. My brother and I were on either side of her and reached for her just in time. She collapsed, and the nurse who followed us in brought a chair up behind Mom. Dad looked.....like Dad, but asleep. There was no indication of trauma. He was at far more peace than the rest of us would be for a long time.
The doctor entered the room to ask if we had any immediate questions he could answer. I asked if Dad had been declared officially dead. The doctor himself had completed that responsibility, although unofficially, he'd died 45 minutes earlier. I decided to voice the concern I knew my brother and mother shared with me.
"I think we'd like you to proceed with an autopsy, please. Do you know when that can be performed, and how long until we get the results?"
"I will make an immediate request for it. I already looked at the schedule for the procedure, and only one other person is in line. I will switch the two, since the other procedure is not a priority. The autopsy will take two to four hours, but for your father, I suspect closer to two hours. I would like to ask, though, if he was feeling ill before today. Any cold or flu-like symptoms? Was he diabetic?"
My mother spoke for the first time since in the room.
"He did not have a cold or flu, but he was getting tired earlier in the day, and said he was having headaches. I knew he was working longer hours since harvest is around the corner, but this was normal for us. Neither Ned nor I are exactly Spring chickens."
"Understood. Here is how we can proceed, if it will work for you. I can have Mr. Wojtowicz taken to the procedure room, and likely release him to you by 10:00. If you choose to take him back home with you, we can prepare him for the journey. This isn't pleasant to discuss, but it means dry ice and a tight container of sorts. I'm sorry for our language having no words for moments like this that aren't indelicate....."
"That's fine, Doctor", I responded. We drove here in our Expedition. Mom, is this plan acceptable to you?"
"Oh....yes. Thank you, Doctor; I just want to take Ned home. I'm sure what you propose will work fine."
"I understand, Mrs Wojtowicz. Please be my guests at the café for breakfast, if you would like. I suspect your day began without eating. Let me encourage you to eat before getting back on the road. At this time, I think we should get Mr Wojtowicz to the procedure area now, so we can perform sooner than later."
We accepted the offer for breakfast. My own stomach was rumbling, although I'd eaten a big breakfast with Marc only three hours earlier. I don't know if I was really hungry, or if nerves were talking to me. Regardless, I know Mom hadn't eaten, and I doubted if Anders had, as well. We found our way to the cafeteria. We were offered a table in a far corner, which was comforting. I did not think the meal would be anything but fuel consumption, and that we'd likely talk, too.
Two hours and a lot of walking around the hospital campus later, I returned to the little room where Anders and Mom sat waiting for Dad's return. The doctor visited us with a nicer portfolio, which he handed to Mom.
"Here are all the documents. Please present them to your funeral director, and she or he will take care of them with the county. We have Mr Wojtowicz at the South side of the building. There is a large roll-up door you'll notice. If you will please back your vehicle up, we will take care of getting him inside. May I answer any questions for you at this time?'
"No, Doctor. On my mom's and brother's behalf, we appreciate all you've done for Dad and for us. I wish Dad were going home with us differently, but for what has happened, you've made this as bearable as I suppose it could be. Thank you."
We said good-bye to the doctor and nurses, and both vehicles made their way back to the loading dock. Once Dad was inside and Anders and Mom talked, my brother hugged me for probably the first time in our lives. He told me he'd be following us back to Lewistown, something I was relieved to hear. Not that he had any experience beyond my own in these matters, but I still felt both Mom and I needed him.
Our return to Lewistown was not expedited. Dan called my phone, which I handed to Mom. Dan had offered to pilot us, but there was no hurry now. I wondered if anything ever needed to hurry again. I was in no hurry for Summer to end. I wanted to grab onto July's tail and hold it firmly to the ground. Everything had just changed, and I wanted nothing else to follow. I realize it sounds all kinds of arrogant to be thinking about myself when my father had just died, but his death meant no more worrying about him and his increasing fatigue. That worry was now projected onto my mom, brother and myself.
Because my mind was obsessing at the moment, it seemed like Mom's big SUV drove itself back to town. Time had passed for me instantly. I thought the rest of my life would, too. Anders had called Jerry Morrison, the county coroner and owner of the funeral home in town. We were to drive Dad right over there. Jerry was also in Dad's graduating class. He was waiting for us, standing outside of the building, his "I'm sorry for your loss" look on his face, yet he looked sincere. They were friends. We got Dad inside and into the roll-in refrigerator, then went to Jerry's office.
Dad and Mom had pre-arranged everything. All we had to do was sign papers. No money changed hands, no wan smiles of having avoided making arrangements now. We finished and as we were walking back to the truck, Mom said she needed to call Father Tim to tell him Dad had died, and to schedule his funeral Mass. On the way to the farm, I drove and she was able to cross that off her list. Lots of other lines remained.
Once back at the farm, Mom said she needed to sleep. Anders was with us now, and he, too, wanted to rest. Curiously, I'd been awake since before 4AM, and yet I wasn't tired in the least. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through my veins, hyping me up with myriad concerns I would not be able to avoid. I looked at Mom's list. Not as much as I'd thought. I imagined what my own would look like.
"Notify scholarship benefactors" "Notify UM" "Review ledgers and files with Mom" "Discuss all this with Anders" "Paint bedroom finally and get new a new bed, since it looks like I'm never moving out of it" "Start crying and don't stop" "Stop crying and get the harvest in" "Top Priority: Get Mom through this" "Time with Marc, if only on the phone"
I stopped thinking. I was wide awake and numb. I decided I should try to relax, even if I didn't sleep. I climbed the stairs to my room, took off my boots and pants and shirt, and laid back on my bed, looking up at the ceiling fan. I graduated last month. Valedictorian and Honors student. The most awarded in the entire class in scholarship funds. Offers from schools I didn't even apply to.
My trajectory was to get a BA in Business Management from UM, then go to Colorado and get a Veterinary Science degree, THEN come back to the farm and live there the rest of my days. I'd be 25 or 26 years old, I'd have seen the World, and ready to be the sixth generation on our property. It's all I ever really wanted to do, anyway. It appeared now that I'd take over the 3,000 acres of operation after all; just seven years too soon and without the education I felt would help us to be viable, well organized, and diversified into animal husbandry, too.
I found myself drifting off. It was welcome. I might be lucky and awake from this entire morning having been just a dream. Well, not the entire morning; I didn't want the part after meeting Marc and then having breakfast together to have been the dream. Everything after that. More than I needed to dream, I needed to cry and then to sleep. I was going from 17 years old to 17 days, when all a baby needed was to cry and sleep. Someone was always there to make things better to get the crying to stop.
I woke to the sound of the kitchen phone ringing, and looked at my watch to see I had slept two hours. I hurried into my clothes and ran down the stairs to see my mom sitting at the kitchen table, again in tears. The agony of this day would not leave her alone soon enough. The phone conversation was brief, and I was near her so took the receiver and hung it up.
"Mom, should I just take it off the hook?"
"No, don't.....people will start driving out here if they can't reach us on the phone. Right now I don't want to see anyone, but I'll talk. This can't be avoided. Your dad is known well in three counties. His.....death will be felt far beyond the fences on this place."
She was right. I asked her what she needed me to do at this moment. She couldn't think right then, so I said I was going to take care of the afternoon chores. I asked where Anders went.
"He's doing chores, too. The heifers need more hay and water, so he's doing that."
"Good. I'll get Bolt saddled and ride out to help him. I'll have my phone on me. If the calls overwhelm you, just call me and I'll come back in, Mom. I'll answer them and talk with folks. Seems like word is already getting around."
"Yeah, it is, Jeff. I've made many calls myself over the years. Now it's my turn to answer them."
I kissed her forehead and walked out to the barn. Before going in, I got in Mom's Expedition and drove it to the back of the barn, out of view of anyone driving past on the county road. I hoped anyone intending to stop would see the gate was closed to our property, and the appearance that Mom wasn't home. I walked into the barn, greeted by the welcome and mistakable aroma of Horse, Hay and Old Barn Age. I wanted to get my horse ready for a ride about a mile out. He was happy to see me, and started talking when he saw me get the tack off the wall. My dad's horse, Stanley Cup ("Stan" to the rest of us), was in the stall next to Bolt. Once I got saddled up, I opened Stan's stall and attached a hackamore and lead to him, and then to my saddle. I knew he needed exercise, and his human of seven years would not be doing it anymore.
15 minutes later, I found Anders using the four-wheeler to herd some of the cattle to a new pasture for them to graze in, and which had a stream running straight through it. It was efficient, but rounding them up again to come back in for the night would be the challenge. I knew Bolt and I would earn our keep later.
Once the Black Angus were all in the big pasture, Anders and I talked.
"Oh.....dad's horse Stan. I'm sure he's happy to get out and stretch his legs. You ever ridden him?"
"Yeah, he's fine with me. Dad always directed Stan with his legs. Rarely had to do anything with the bridle; that's how in sync they were. I'll need to ride him more often now so he stays used to me. Anders, I'm glad you're going to stay with Mom and me for a few days. Not just for moving herds, but we all need each other now."
"Jeff, I'm going to be straight up with you here, and you're not going to like what I have to say. I can never tell Mom this, and I hope you won't. Still, I need you to understand me. The man who died today......your father, my father, our mother's husband. All of those are not the same man, and we're all three going to respond to his death and our memories of him differently. You're going to think I'm an absolute asshole who won't be missing Ned Wojtowicz. I am not going to try to change your mind on that.
Telling you this is risking your and my relationship, but you're a man. You were, we all were, born to be disappointed in the World, maybe more than it will be in us. I'm not going to barrage you with my reasons, but if you ever want to understand them and me, just say so. I'll tell you. Until then, I am here for you and Mom. But I am not grieving. At least not like you are. Maybe I am, for a relationship between a father and a son that didn't happen, and now never will."
"Okay, that sounds straight out of "Death Of A Salesman", Anders. I believe you. And yeah, I will want to understand. But not today. I won't say anything to Mom. I know kids each have a different relationship with their parents, unique from the others. I saw that with Gus, too; though I was just a little kid.....then."
"Jeff, I'm not teaching any Summer classes, and my curriculum for the fall semester is the same as last year. I don't have to rush back to Bozeman, but I want to go get some stuff, like my laptop and some clothes. And my dog. Four hours in each direction. I think I'll leave here tomorrow morning, early; get back before dinner."
"No shit! Damn, yeah! I'm.....so glad. It's the perfect day to be glad about something. And you know Mom will be over the Moon about it."
"Yeah, well, I hope so. My job is to help get the harvest in. But I wanted to talk with you about that, too. You're really the farm boss here now. You've had day-to-day communication with Mom and Dad about what needs to be done. Stay open with me about everything, and don't worry that I have some ego that won't allow me to listen to you. That's not the case at all. Taking off with my bad memories and attitude back to Bozeman, leaving you with all.....this to handle on your own? Nope, that's not me, despite anything and everything."
"Thanks for that. We'll manage the rest of Summer and harvest together, but along the way, I need to talk with you about.....well, the future. Admittedly, that has been on my mind throughout the day, battling for Brain Time with Dad's death, and Mom's emotional well-being."
"We'll talk about everything, Kiddo."
That was reassuring. With the cattle grazing for a few hours, I could focus on anything emergent with Mom. Anders took off on the four-wheeler again, so it was just Bolt, Stan and me. I walked them over to the little stream so they could drink free flowing water and eat some of the tasty rye that was growing wild in the smaller pasture. While they were snacking, I took out my phone and saw that I had a decent signal, out here in the middle of Nowhere. I decided to take Marc up on his offer.
"Hey, Jeff."
"Hey, Marc. Is now an okay time to talk for a moment?"
"Yeah, it is; let me step outside, though. Kind of noisy in here. Some of Grammy's friends are over, helping her pack up the kitchen." Marc made his way to the back yard and we resumed the conversation.
"Jeff, this is the most awkward of questions, but I don't know what else to ask. How are you and your mother and brother?"
"Oh, that's not awkward at all. I actually asked the most awkward question when I was in Missoula to check out the campus, and thought hooking up with a girl from Kalispell was the most important activity. My question to her was, `when was your last herpes test?'. Suddenly I found that I would not be re-losing my virginity. But, umm, we're all right, I guess. For the circumstances. Mom has been answering all the phone calls. Word is out. Anders just told me he's staying through the rest of Summer and harvest. He doesn't have his first semester until mid-September. Just in time to tidy everything up and put the farm to sleep for Winter."
"My gosh.....I want to laugh at the first part, but I don't want to be insensitive to the second part! Oh, fuck it; HAHAHA!!! That was funny! Um, it would seem like Sebastian will not be going to the fair this year."
"Oh, he's going. We all are. If we didn't, we'd betray the strength that everyone in this county has. It would be something my dad would want. I also have our five grains to show in the exhibition hall. Dad has always done well there, too."
"Okay, well, Jeff; if the offer stands to go with you Thursday morning, I'd like to. I believe you and I can be friends, and that would be my focus."
"The offer stands, Marc. I need to go for now and get my horse back. We'll talk between now and Thursday, so we can go over logistics and stuff."
"That'll work, Cowboy. I think you're a very brave man, what you're enduring right now. All of your family. Thanks for calling."
"Thanks for answering. Oh, I didn't ask: how're things going there?"
"Better than easy, thanks. They've decided they're not taking any furniture. Kitchen stuff, books, family things, a couple of Grampy's hand tools and clothes. Everything will fit in a little trailer."
"So.....everything else is an estate sale, and the house sale, too?"
"Looks that way. This is a great house, really. Too much for them now, in terms of maintenance. I can only imagine living in this in Massachusetts. Still, my grandparents will be with their close friends, and no maintenance required in their condo."
"Will the estate sale be soon? I doubt the house would sell in only a week, but if everything was cleared out of it, you could still get back to Harvard on schedule."
"I'm not too worried about that now. I'm teaching the same class this year, and with the same text. Sounds like your brother's academic planning. Grammy and Grampy will leave on time, and I'll get the Bass Brothers in to auction everything else. Maybe someone who comes to see stuff will decide they want the house, and furnished. Heh.....I should be so lucky. A week, two weeks, three; I'll stay however long it takes to make everything right."
"Then, once I get through this coming week.....I'd like to have you out here to see my farm. You can meet my mother and brother, too."
"And your horse?"
"Don't see why not. I'll check with him to see if he'll be receiving gentlemen callers that day."
"I'll bring carrots and apples."
"In that case, you'll be most welcome by Lightning Bolt, known as Bolt out here. We're back at the stable now, Marc. Thanks for riding back in with me. I'm glad things are going well there."
"It is my pleasure. I look forward to talking again, and then seeing you and Sebastian Thursday, 5:30, sharp. Bye, Jeff."
"Bye, Marc."
Between Anders telling me he was sticking around through harvest and Marc saying his plans are more flexible, I was feeling less.....trapped. If I felt that way, I was forcing it on myself. Anders had me more than curious about his candor earlier. I knew he and Dad were not close, but for my brother to say (but not say) he was glad Dad was dead.....I didn't know what to think about that. I didn't WANT to think about it. It's none of my business until Anders makes it my business, and I had plenty of things on my own list to worry about now.
The conversation with Marc was brief and nice. Talking comes easily with him. I knew we'd talk again, if only to confirm Thursday morning. And at the moment, Paco was being the horny teenager again, as if to say, "A lot of shit has gone down, but don't forget about me!" I could never do THAT, Buddy. I was already planning some Alone Time with him while recalling a hot, handsome, furry, barely-there-nylon-shorts-wearing college professor and our chance meeting twelve hours earlier in the day.
I told Marc I didn't kiss on the first date, but I was feeling within moments of meeting him that I wanted to do a lot more with him than ride in my truck and go for breakfast. I wanted Marc to BE breakfast. My hormonal mind was spinning with what I wanted, and with Marc. "No kiss on the first date"? Since when was I so provincial? I had wanted almost immediately to get and stay naked with him, to be rubbed raw by all that hair on his face, chest and legs. And, I imagine, ass. I wanted his scent on me, and mine on him.
And unless I was misreading him, he wanted the same with me. Harvard came to Montana that Summer, just as the most essential part of Montana, of me, was crushed. Hearts break all the time here, but we weld them back together with a new piece here and there, stronger than before. This is definitely not a boring life. Don't let anyone tell you nothing happens in Fergus County, Montana.