Zoey to a row of chicken coops set away from the house in the shade of scrub oak. They were on a good-size plot, encompassed by a sturdy wire enclosure. “You have a lot of chickens,” she said, pausing to latch the gate behind her.
“Erma uses a lot of eggs. Wait until you see how many Benny and Eldon eat at breakfast.” Zoey unhooked one of the coop doors and exposed two shelves of nests, empty of chickens.
“So Erma cooks meals for the ranch hands as well as for your family?”
“We all eat together.” Zoey reached into a nest and began placing eggs in one of her baskets. J.J. picked up a second basket and scooped the eggs out of the higher nests. They collected about twenty eggs, closed the coop and moved to the next. Hens were sitting on the nests in this one. One screeched and flew straight at J.J., pecking her arm.
“Ow!” She jumped back and dabbed at a trail of blood, trying to keep from dropping her basket.
Zoey unhooked a long-handled whisk broom off the inside wall of the coop and swatted the squawking hens. “Shoo.” She flapped her arms at birds dive-bombing their legs. “We need to hurry and grab the eggs. The hens get braver the longer we stay.”
J.J. filled her basket and topped off Zoey’s while the girl used the broom to keep the two most determined hens away.
“Phew, that was a new experience for me,” J.J. said as they dashed from the pen.
“You never kept chickens?” Zoey fastened the gate and took her full basket back from J.J.
“I went to college with a few ranch kids, but I lived on campus. And most of my friends lived in town. My stepdad was a math professor.”
“You had a stepfather?” Zoey hesitated. “Was that okay?”
J.J. thought about how to answer. “It was fine. Unlike in your case, Zoey, my mom married Rex when I was a toddler. I never knew any other father.”
Zoey hung her head. “I guess you read my essay, huh? I kind of hinted about wanting a mom.”
J.J. wrinkled her nose and laughed. “That was more than hinting, Zoey. I’m guessing that’s why you and Brandy didn’t want your dad to read your contest entry at the library?”
“Yeah.” She kicked a clod of dirt off the path. “I almost didn’t mail it in. I figured anybody who read it would think I was nuts.”
“Nope. The committee members were touched by what you wrote, but I should tell you, Zoey, if I’d been on the committee I would have voted no.”
“Because you and my dad went to college together?”
“No, because matchmaking is difficult to pull off. A one-time evening out... Well, I’m trying to say—don’t get your hopes up, Zoey.”
“Brandy’s mom said I can’t shop for a mother...” They reached the back door and Zoey trailed off. Mack threw the screen open and stepped out onto the porch.
“Good, you’re back. Erma’s had her pills and she’s already woozy.” J.J. tried to sweep past him into the kitchen, but he grabbed her arm. “You’re bleeding. What did you do?”
“A hen got her,” Zoey announced matter-of-factly.
Mack pulled back his hand. “Wash that wound out. I’ll grab the first aid kit. Chickens peck through all kinds of barnyard crap. I don’t need your magazine suing me if you get blood poisoning.”
J.J. rolled her eyes. “Your concern for my welfare is touching.”
“I...” He sounded half rueful, half apologetic.
“Never mind,” J.J. said, waving him off as she put her basket on the counter. She stuck her arm under the kitchen faucet and was drying it with a paper towel when Mack came back in. He was holding antibiotic cream and a plastic bandage. J.J.’s heartbeat quickened as he dabbed the cream onto her skin. Old feelings crowded in. Good and not so good, since this was the same kitchen where she’d stumbled upon him wiping away Faith’s tears. Faith, who subsequently became his wife and Zoey’s mother. Unwilling to deal with memories that still hurt, J.J. yanked back her arm. “That’s good. Which way do I go to
“Erma uses a lot of eggs. Wait until you see how many Benny and Eldon eat at breakfast.” Zoey unhooked one of the coop doors and exposed two shelves of nests, empty of chickens.
“So Erma cooks meals for the ranch hands as well as for your family?”
“We all eat together.” Zoey reached into a nest and began placing eggs in one of her baskets. J.J. picked up a second basket and scooped the eggs out of the higher nests. They collected about twenty eggs, closed the coop and moved to the next. Hens were sitting on the nests in this one. One screeched and flew straight at J.J., pecking her arm.
“Ow!” She jumped back and dabbed at a trail of blood, trying to keep from dropping her basket.
Zoey unhooked a long-handled whisk broom off the inside wall of the coop and swatted the squawking hens. “Shoo.” She flapped her arms at birds dive-bombing their legs. “We need to hurry and grab the eggs. The hens get braver the longer we stay.”
J.J. filled her basket and topped off Zoey’s while the girl used the broom to keep the two most determined hens away.
“Phew, that was a new experience for me,” J.J. said as they dashed from the pen.
“You never kept chickens?” Zoey fastened the gate and took her full basket back from J.J.
“I went to college with a few ranch kids, but I lived on campus. And most of my friends lived in town. My stepdad was a math professor.”
“You had a stepfather?” Zoey hesitated. “Was that okay?”
J.J. thought about how to answer. “It was fine. Unlike in your case, Zoey, my mom married Rex when I was a toddler. I never knew any other father.”
Zoey hung her head. “I guess you read my essay, huh? I kind of hinted about wanting a mom.”
J.J. wrinkled her nose and laughed. “That was more than hinting, Zoey. I’m guessing that’s why you and Brandy didn’t want your dad to read your contest entry at the library?”
“Yeah.” She kicked a clod of dirt off the path. “I almost didn’t mail it in. I figured anybody who read it would think I was nuts.”
“Nope. The committee members were touched by what you wrote, but I should tell you, Zoey, if I’d been on the committee I would have voted no.”
“Because you and my dad went to college together?”
“No, because matchmaking is difficult to pull off. A one-time evening out... Well, I’m trying to say—don’t get your hopes up, Zoey.”
“Brandy’s mom said I can’t shop for a mother...” They reached the back door and Zoey trailed off. Mack threw the screen open and stepped out onto the porch.
“Good, you’re back. Erma’s had her pills and she’s already woozy.” J.J. tried to sweep past him into the kitchen, but he grabbed her arm. “You’re bleeding. What did you do?”
“A hen got her,” Zoey announced matter-of-factly.
Mack pulled back his hand. “Wash that wound out. I’ll grab the first aid kit. Chickens peck through all kinds of barnyard crap. I don’t need your magazine suing me if you get blood poisoning.”
J.J. rolled her eyes. “Your concern for my welfare is touching.”
“I...” He sounded half rueful, half apologetic.
“Never mind,” J.J. said, waving him off as she put her basket on the counter. She stuck her arm under the kitchen faucet and was drying it with a paper towel when Mack came back in. He was holding antibiotic cream and a plastic bandage. J.J.’s heartbeat quickened as he dabbed the cream onto her skin. Old feelings crowded in. Good and not so good, since this was the same kitchen where she’d stumbled upon him wiping away Faith’s tears. Faith, who subsequently became his wife and Zoey’s mother. Unwilling to deal with memories that still hurt, J.J. yanked back her arm. “That’s good. Which way do I go to
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