“You live on that road out by the Free Will Baptist, don’tcha?”
“Uh-huh.”
“I’ll come by and get you then. I’m on my way.”
Lily threw on yesterday’s clothes and splashed some water on her face. She bumped into Ben on her way out of the bathroom.
“Was it that bull dyke veterinarian on the phone?” he asked, rubbing his heavy-lidded eyes.
“Now, now, dear, that’s not a very politically correct way to refer to her.”
“Nobody who calls at four o’clock on a Saturday morning gets the PC treatment,” Ben muttered.
“I shouldn’t be gone long,” Lily said. “I don’t think Mimi will wake up before I get back, but if she does, you can look after her, right?”
“Hey, what are self-proclaimed fathers for?”
Dr. Jack came to fetch Lily in a faded red Chevy pickup. It was impossible to imagine her driving anything else. “Hop on in, Mrs. McGilly,” she said, grinning. Dr. Jack, clearly a morning person, looked alert and cheerful despite the fact that it wasn’t even five a.m.
“Please call me Lily.” Pretty please, she thought. “Lily McGilly!” Dr. Jack laughed.
“Trust me. You’re not the first person to find my married name amusing.”
“I guess not. Well, some folks call me Jack, and some folks call me Doc. You take your pick —just as long as you don’t call me by my given name.”
“Which is?”
“Jacqueline. My momma got it outta some book she was reading. It never did suit me. Her giving me that name was just like her putting me in frilly dresses all the time. Pretty things just don’t suit me. I was always the plain, practical type. Not like Momma.”
“Is your mother still alive?”
“As far as I know. ’Course, the last time I heard anything was probably four years ago. She was still living down in Florida then. That’s where she went when she left Daddy and me. She left Daddy for another man when I was seven years old, but she didn’t stay with him either. She couldn’t be satisfied with nothin’ . . . she was the restless type. I think that’s one of the things that got on her nerves about Daddy and me: We were both content to stay in the same place and do the same thing. Not a restless bone in our bodies.”
“Hmm,” Lily said. “I think a lot of women in your mother’s generation were probably dissatisfied, always thinking they’d be happier with some other man, when the source of their unhappiness was really a lot deeper than that.”
“Huh,” Jack said. “You think a lot.”
Lily blushed. She hadn’t meant to get all theoretical, but she had just the same. All those years of living with a college professor, maybe. “I guess I do. Maybe it’s because I’m a writer. Of course, I don’t tend to philosophize like that in my books, since my usual audience is made up of seven-year-olds.”
Jack grinned. “You know, when you asked me if you could come along on some farm calls, I kinda wondered if you’d be a nuisance, since I’m so used to being by myself. But having some company for a change is nice.”
“We’ve not even gotten to the farm yet. I’ve still got plenty of time to be a nuisance.” It occurred to her that she had absolutely no idea what to expect when they arrived. “Say, when you called you said there was a sow in trouble. What did you mean by that? It sounded like she’d been caught writing bad checks or something.”
Jack laughed. “No, a pig’s too smart to get caught writing bad checks. This sow’s in labor, but she can’t get one of the piglets pushed out. It happens sometimes — a baby’ll get turned the wrong way in the birth canal. And the mother panics cause she doesn’t know what’s going on. It’s really just a matter of getting the piglet turned around the right way. It’s not hard if you know what you’re doing.”
Jack pulled the truck into a long gravel driveway at the end of which was a small, white frame house. The house was dwarfed by the huge, unpainted barn that sat behind it.
A craggy-faced man in a John Deere cap and overalls began talking to Jack before she could even get out of the truck. “She’s in the barn over yonder. I done got you some soap and hot water.”
“Thanks, Ed. Let’s go take a look at her.”
Jack was apparently in an all-business mood, since she didn’t bother introducing Lily to the farmer. Figuring that manners took the backseat in a medical crisis, Lily grabbed her sketch pad and pencils and tagged along behind Jack and Ed, feeling faintly ridiculous.
The sweet hay smell of the barn was soured by sounds of fear and pain. In a corner pen, the enormous sow paced and squealed. Her eyes were wild, terrified. Two newborn piglets lay a few feet away from her, tiny and pink, rooting blindly in the straw.
This was the first birth Lily had attended since Mimi’s, and while the mother pig didn’t have as colorful a vocabulary as Charlotte, the similarities between the two occasions were striking. Lily knew the party line was that giving birth was a beautiful thing, and she agreed with that sentiment up to a point. But the miracle of birth also had a dark, scary side. One only needed to look at the panicking sow and her frail piglets to remember that all living creatures are born helpless, out of their mother’s fear and pain.
Lily kept her distance and watched the vet do her work.
Jack began by scrubbing her hands in the basin of hot water Ed had provided. She nodded toward the sow. “Now, Ed, this un’s named Minnie, right?”
He nodded.
“I like how you name all your livestock, Ed,” she said, climbing into the pen. “It makes it easier when I’ve got somethin’ to call ’em.” She leaned down so the pig could see her. “Now, Minnie. You take it easy, ole girl. You’re gonna be just fine.” She looked up at Ed. “Hey, Ed, you got any little treats you could hand-feed this girl? Food’s better than anesthesia to a pig.”