Milk Money

Dumbfounded, the accountant gazed at a cow giving birth. He dropped his briefcase when he saw the feet of the baby sticking out of the mother’s canal. A rope was looped around the legs of the young animal, and a brown-skinned woman pulled so hard that the muscles in her slender arms flexed. Her eyes squeezed shut while she grunted, reminding him of the noises people made when they bench-pressed weights. She opened her eyes. “Casey, hold on,” she cooed. When he watched the birth, his sour stomach worsened, and the bagel and cream cheese he’d managed to eat for breakfast felt like a dead weight in his belly.

Her tears mingled with the sweat rolling down her face. She continued to pull and glanced in his direction. “Oh, thank God you came. Come and help me.”

A plethora of unfamiliar scents tingled his nose. He swallowed, losing his voice. What was he supposed to do?

She continued to look at him, pulling on the rope periodically. “I already left a message on your answering service that it was coming out backward.” Pushing the door open, he entered the room adjoining the barn, still hoping he wouldn’t throw up. She nodded toward the rope, still tugging. “With both of us pulling, maybe we’ll be able to get the calf out.”

“Okay.” He swallowed his nausea and pulled, mimicking the way he used to grunt when bench-pressing heavy weights. He followed her example, keeping tension on the rope and pulling each time the cow had a contraction. She grunted also, and their noises continued until the calf exited the birth canal minutes later. She dropped the rope, and he rushed behind her to look at the young animal. He touched the newborn, awed by the birth. She glanced at him as she cleaned gunk off the calf’s nose and mouth.

Her sigh filled the space when she noticed the animal was breathing. “Aren’t you going to examine the cow and calf?”

Before he could respond, a young man holding a large black plastic tote entered the pen. “This the Cooper farm?”

Confusion marred her face when she glanced at Frank. Then she focused on the new arrival. The newcomer rushed to the baby cow and began examining it. “I’m Dr. Lindsey’s son. I’m taking over my daddy’s practice this week since he’s on vacation. He told you that, didn’t he?”

She nodded, still looking confused. “I left a message on your answering service earlier.”

The vet grunted. “I was down the street at the horse farm helping out with another birth, so I couldn’t leave.”

“Are the cow and calf okay?”

“They both look fine.” He stopped his examination and looked at them. “I’m glad you had somebody helping you. You might not have gotten him out in time if you’d been pulling him on your own.” He pulled a tool out of his bag. “You have antibiotic on hand for the calf, right? If not, I’ve got some.”

The attractive woman nodded, her dark hair clinging to her sweaty neck as she promised the vet she would give the new calf the medicine. Frank watched, mesmerized by the whole process. A short time later, the newborn nursed from the mother. “Thank you, doctor,” said the woman, patting the man on the shoulder.

The doctor shook his head, placing his tools back into his bag. “Don’t thank me. You two got him out in time.” He told Emily he would send her the bill, and then he left the farm. Emily glanced at Frank, as if taking in his khaki slacks and oxford shirt.

Noticing his bloody hands, she beckoned him over to a room containing a sink and a large steel tank. After ripping off the long plastic gloves covering her hands and forearms and dropping them into the trash can, she turned the water on, pumped out several squirts of soap, and washed. “I thought you were the vet,” she said, continuing to scrub her hands and forearms. “I’ve never met Dr. Lindsey’s son, so that’s why I assumed you were him.” After rinsing, she pulled paper towels from a dispenser and gestured for Frank to use the sink.

Frank shrugged and walked to the sink, placing his hands under the running water. “Sorry. I helped you out, but I didn’t have any idea if I was doing it right. It’s probably good I showed up when I did. It looked like you’d been trying to help that cow for a long time.”

She shook her head. “Cows are tough. They can be in labor for hours before giving birth. When you came, I’d just started pulling the calf out with the rope.” She continued to stare, frowning. “Well, if you’re not Dr. Lindsey’s son, then who are you?”

He offered his recently washed hand, glad the nauseous feeling had evaporated from his stomach. “I’m Franklin Reese, Certified Public Accountant.”

Emily ignored his hand, narrowing her eyes. “You’re kidding!”

“Why would I kid about this?” He beckoned her over to his abandoned briefcase and slid the golden locks open, removing a sheaf of papers. He held the documents toward her. “It’s all right here. You called us to come out here because you said you lost your bookkeeper and you needed somebody to show you how to properly do the accounting for your farm.”

She shook her head, refusing to take the papers. Gritting her teeth, she recalled the countless arguments she’d had with her stepmother, Laura, during the last several weeks. “So, you’re the accountant from Bryer’s and Ridge Accounting Firm that just opened in Monkton?”

He nodded. “The main office is at the Inner Harbor. They just opened this new branch to service the Monkton farm community.”

She folded her arms in front of her. “I didn’t call you; my stepmother did.” She failed to admit that she was totally against hiring the accountant.

“Look … what’s your name?” His mouth hardened into a thin line, and she found it hard not to stare at his cocoa brown, long-lashed eyes.

“My name is Emily Cooper.”

He still clutched the papers, looking bewildered. “Did you want to call the office and reschedule?” He gestured toward the barn. “I see you’ve had a rough morning, so you might not be in the mood to talk about your finances right now.”

“Just give me a second, okay?” She stepped away, noting how the cool scent of his cologne wafted around her, teasing her nose. She removed her cell phone from her pocket and hit the speed dial to call Laura. Emily left her stepmother a message, clutching the phone and speaking in a low voice so that Franklin would not hear her. “Mom, I thought we’d agreed you wouldn’t hire that accountant until we talked about it some more. He’s here now, and I’m not sure what to do.” She ended her message and placed her phone back into her pocket. She gazed at the silos in the distance, still wondering how to handle this situation. The heated arguments she’d had with Laura about hiring an accountant played in her mind like a broken record.

“Did you want me to leave and come back another time?”

She jumped when his deep voice sounded behind her. “What’s the phone number for your firm?”

He held the papers toward her. She took the cream-colored stationery, noting the number on the top. She called and spoke with the secretary, who confirmed Franklin’s appointment.

She snapped her phone shut, and he presented her with a laminated ID card. “I usually show this as soon as I get to a new house. But since you were busy in the barn, my routine was messed up. Did you want to call the office back and reschedule?” he asked again.

Shaking her head, she figured it was wrong of her to go against Laura’s wishes. “No, come on.” She gestured toward the house, wiping sweat from her brow. They walked to her home, and she opened the door and entered the shaded, screened-in porch. Emily removed her barn boots and noticed dung stuck on his footwear.

“Oh no.” She cringed, feeling bad about the mess on Franklin’s shoes and clothing. After leaving her boots on the porch, she told him to remove his shoes. They entered the kitchen, and she showed him the bathroom in the hallway. “You can wash up in there. I have some spare clothes you can wear so I can wash your shirt and shoes.” He nodded, entering the bathroom. She soon reappeared with an old shirt and shoes that belonged to her father. She heard the water running from behind the closed bathroom door, and she left the clothes in front of the room’s entrance.

When he returned to the kitchen, a strange, funny feeling rushed through her when she saw him wearing her father’s stuff. “I’ll get started laundering your clothes, and I’ll clean your shoes. When you leave today, I’ll have everything done.”

He waved her comment away. “Can you just show me where you keep your files?”

“They’re in my father’s office.” She approached the closed door, hesitating before opening it. She took a deep breath, beckoning him to follow her into her dad’s space. Her arms ached from pulling the calf earlier, and the effects of her sleepless night made her want to take a long nap. When Franklin stood beside her, she became aware of his height. He glanced around before focusing on the filing cabinet. “Do you know where your father keeps his P & L statements?”

Emily frowned, looking around the cluttered room. “His what?”

“You know, his profit and loss statements.”

Emily shrugged, now wishing she wasn’t so ignorant about bookkeeping. “I don’t know.”

“Okay. How about his tax returns? That’ll be a good place for me to start.” He gestured toward the cabinet. “Are his tax forms in the filing cabinet?”

Emily glanced around the room, feeling out of her element.

“I’m not sure.”

“You don’t even know where your tax returns are?” She cringed as the exasperation in his voice settled around the room like dust.

Gritting her teeth, she glared at him. “No, I don’t know.” Wringing her hands, she gazed at the piles of paper scattered around the office.

“Why did you call us for our services if you don’t know where the paperwork is?” He threw his hands up in the air. “I feel like I’m wasting my time here. You know we charge by the hour.”

She snapped, whipping her head toward the newcomer. “I’m sorry! I don’t know where anything is. You’re welcome to look and charge us for your extra time!” Hot tears pricked her eyes, and she turned away, not wanting Franklin to see her cry. “I have chores to do in the barn.” She turned and exited the house, welcoming the intense heat as she ran down the hill toward the barn.