Trading Secrets Page 7

  “The foal is in good position,” Mr. Miller announces. “Maybe it’s just a matter of time.”

  “Ja,” Zach agrees. “I hope you’re right.”

  “God will answer our prayer,” his father says with confidence. “You will see.”

  “Do you want me to stay here tonight?” Zach asks. “Just in case.”

  “Ja. That will be good.” They talk a while longer, then Zach’s dad tells him goodnight. I hear footsteps, and the door opens and closes again.

  I remain frozen in place, trying to decide what to do. Zach is obviously unaware that I’m still here. What will he think if I come creeping down the ladder? For all I know, he might assume I’m an intruder and meet me with a pitchfork. I know the Amish are by nature nonviolent, but still, you never know.

  Feeling silly and awkward, I listen as he moves about down there. I hear a rhythmic scraping sound of metal against wood, and I imagine he’s cleaning the stall, perhaps putting in some fresh straw. Then I hear some clunking and scraping sounds, and finally it gets quiet. I assume he’s settled down for the night, and I feel more trapped than ever. But it’s not long until the sound of contented whistling begins to waft up through the shadowy wooden cavern. It’s not a familiar tune, but it’s pleasant just the same. I’m not sure why, but I’m not surprised that Zach’s a pretty good whistler.

  The music is strangely comforting, but I still feel trapped and uneasy. I toy with the idea of announcing my presence, but as more time passes, I feel less inclined to reveal my whereabouts. I can only imagine how annoyed he’ll be to discover I’ve invaded his barn and have been eavesdropping on him and his father and listening to him whistling. However, there is one thing I haven’t taken into account. What do I do when nature calls—as I know it will? I’m aware that there’s an outhouse behind the barn, but how can I possibly reach it without having a confrontation with Zach? And what then?

  7

  I decide my best plan is to wait for Zach to turn off his light and fall asleep. Surely he doesn’t intend to stay awake all night. After all, he’s a farmer. Early to bed, early to rise and all that stuff. After I’m sure he’s soundly snoozing, I’ll sneak down the ladder, exit the barn, and make my way back to the house, where I hope everyone will be sleeping. Then I’ll slip upstairs and accept Katy’s kind offer of a nice warm bed.

  In the meantime, I’m trying to be quiet as a mouse, but thinking about mice makes me uneasy. Where are all those barn cats anyway? I’m just obsessing over the possibility of a creepy critter crawling over me—which would probably elicit a scream—when I hear the sound of the latch and see the light from another lantern as the door squeaks open.

  “Katy,” Zach says with surprise. “What are you doing out here?”

  “I—uh—just thought I’d check on you and Molly,” she says a bit nervously.

  “What time is it?” he asks.

  “Oh, it’s late. Almost 11:00, I think.”

  “You should be in bed,” he scolds her. “You have school tomorrow.”

  “Ja, I know. But I brought you a snack.”

  “And a blanket,” he says. “Thanks, Katy. It was starting to get a little cold out here.”

  I want to add, “You can say that again,” but control myself. I vaguely wonder if she really brought that blanket for me. Not that it will do me much good now.

  “What are you reading?” she asks.

  “Nothing much.”

  “Biology?” she questions. “What’s that?”

  “The study of living things,” he says quietly.

  “Oh.”

  “You won’t tell, will you?”

  “No, Zach. You know I won’t.”

  “Want me to relieve you for a while?” Katy offers. I suspect she’s doing this for my benefit, trying to give me a chance to escape into the house so I’m not stuck here all night. “I can sit with Molly and—”

  “No thanks, Katy. I’m fine.”

  “I don’t mind,” she tries again, but Zach is not buying.

  “Thanks for the cookies,” he says abruptly. “Now you need to get to bed.”

  “I hope you can get some sleep.” Katy speaks loudly, almost as if she’s saying it for my sake. “I’m sure Molly will wake you up if she needs your help.”

  “Ja, you are probably right about that.”

  After Katy leaves, I wonder if Zach will ever turn off his lantern and catch some shut-eye. And why is he reading a biology book? Good grief, you’d think that would put him to sleep.

  I wake to the sounds of banging and clunking and Zach’s voice. “Easy does it, Molly,” he’s saying in a calm but firm tone. “Take it easy, girl. You’re going to be fine.” This is followed by more loud banging as well as some startled exclamations from Zach. Is the horse kicking the walls of the stall? Is Zach in danger?

  “Come on, Molly,” he urges. “Settle down, girl.”

  I’m just starting to feel worried when I hear more thrashing and a loud bang followed by a sharp cry from Zach—as if he’s been kicked. I can stand it no longer. What if he’s been seriously hurt? At the very least, I know he could use some help. I turn on my lantern and scurry down the ladder, finding Zach pinned between the big brown horse and the back of the stall.

  “Hey, Zach,” I say casually. “Looks like you could use a hand.”

  His eyes, which first look startled, quickly transform to angry. “What are you doing here?”

  “Trying to sleep,” I tell him as I quietly step into the stall. “But with all this ruckus down here, it’s not easy.”

  “I thought you went home.” He’s attempting to push Molly’s back end away from him.

  “Come here, Molly.” I calmly grasp either side of her halter and gently tug her toward me. “Come on, girl. Give Zach some space.”

  As Molly gingerly steps forward, Zach extricates himself from the tight corner, still scowling, and joins me on the end by the door. He’s barely out of harm’s way when the agitated horse starts stomping and kicking again.

  “You better get out of here,” Zach warns me after Molly settles down. He reaches down and rubs his thigh. “Before you get hurt.”

  “I’m not worried,” I tell him. “Are you hurt?”

  “Nothing serious,” he grumbles.

  “Well, it looks like you need some help.”

  “You think you can help with this?” His tone is challenging. I can tell he has no faith in my ability to assist. Really, who could blame him?

  “Why not?” I try to appear more confident than I feel. “Remember, I worked in the vet clinic last summer. I wrote to you about it.”

  Zach frowns. “You mean Micah wrote to me.”

  “I am Micah,” I insist.

  “Not the Micah I knew,” he snaps. “But never mind—Molly is getting ready to foal. No time to quarrel over the past.”

  “What should I do?” I ask nervously. I almost suggest boiling water like they sometimes do in old movies.

  “Keep her head still,” he commands. “And keep her calm and toward this end of the stall—if you can.”

  Zach goes to the back of the stall again, not directly behind her but off to one side, where he perches on a sturdy shelf above her. “She’ll probably lie down soon,” he tells me. “Get out of the way and give her room when she does.”

  Having no idea of what I’m doing, I talk calmly to the horse, trying to soothe her as she moves from side to side. After what feels like an hour but is probably not, she finally does lie down on her side, just like Zach predicted.

  “It’s coming now.” I can hear excitement in his voice as he quietly gets down from his perch, positioning himself near Molly’s back end.

  “Do you need any help?” I ask.

  “No. Just keep talking to her like you were doing—keep her calm. It seemed to be working.”

  I kneel down next to her head and continue talking to her as she thrashes around. Before long, I hear Zach announcing that the foal has come. “It’s completely out,” he says
with relief. “And it looks all right. Toss me those towels hanging on the door, will you?”

  I stretch over Molly to hand an old towel to Zach, looking on in wonder as he helps to clean and dry the small, dark horse’s face. Then I hand him another one, watching as he rubs the animal’s body vigorously. Before long the fuzzy foal makes several wobbly attempts to stand, and eventually it is standing by itself on thin, shaky legs.

  “Something’s not right here.” Zach throws the soiled towels aside.

  “With the foal?”

  “No. The colt seems okay. But can you get him out of here?”

  “Sure,” I cautiously step past Molly, who is lying very still.

  “Just hold him like this.” Zach wraps both arms around the foal and hands him over to me. “Take him over to the stall next to this one.”

  “Okay.” I carefully step past Molly again, carrying her still damp baby over to the next stall, where I gently set him down. I just stand there and stare at him in wonder. To think this living creature just emerged from the mare—it’s amazing.

  “Did you learn anything about horses when you worked at the vet clinic?” Zach calls out in a worried voice.

  “What do you mean?” I ask as I go back to the stall where Molly is still lying down and not moving much.

  “Something is wrong,” he says solemnly.

  I look back to where Zach is staring at Molly’s back end with a perplexed expression. To be honest, it looks like a giant mess to me. The afterbirth or whatever it is looks so grotesque that I’m almost afraid I’m going to be sick. But I try to act brave. “What is it,” I ask quietly, “that you’re concerned about?”

  “It’s not right.” He looks up at me with frightened dark eyes. “I’m worried for Molly. Maybe you should go get my dad.”

  I bite my lip, trying to imagine myself busting into the darkened house and waking up Mr. and Mrs. Miller. It’s more than a bit intimidating. “What about a vet?” I suggest.

  “My daed wouldn’t like that. An emergency visit at night is costly.”

  “What if I call my uncle?”

  “Your uncle?”

  “He’s the vet I worked for last summer.”

  He looks at me in disbelief. “Your uncle’s a veterinarian?”

  “Yeah. I guess I didn’t mention that part.”

  “Can you do that?” He gives me a hopeful look. “I mean, call him at this time of night?”

  “Sure. I think he’s still with my dad in Chicago.” I pull my phone from my sweatshirt pocket. Feeling the desperation of this situation, I quickly dial Dad’s number, and he promptly answers with an anxious voice.

  “What is it, Micah? Is something wrong?” he demands. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” I assure him. “But I really need to talk to Uncle Brad. Do you know where he—”

  “Uncle Brad? It’s past midnight, Micah. What’s going on?”

  I quickly explain about Molly.

  “Well, you’re in luck. Brad and I are sharing a hotel room. Hey, Brad,” he calls out. “Micah has a medical question for you.”

  My uncle answers, and I explain about Molly and birthing the foal.

  “Is the foal okay?” he asks. “Breathing and walking and—”

  I quickly fill him in. “It’s the mare that’s not doing so good.”

  Uncle Brad asks who else is there to help, and I explain about Zach. “But it’s just the two of us.”

  “Zach’s experienced with horses?”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Give the phone to Zach.”

  “Here.” I hand Zach my phone. “Talk to Dr. Brad.”

  I stand by listening as Zach describes what’s going on with Molly and how things look. They talk back and forth for a couple minutes, and then Zach hands me the phone. “Hold this up so I can hear it,” he says as he rolls up his sleeves. “So your uncle can talk me through this.”

  Leaning over Molly’s back, I put the phone on speaker and turn up the volume, then stretch my phone toward Zach’s ear, but when he follows Uncle Brad’s direction by starting to handle the mass of tissue that’s hanging out of Molly’s rump, I’m forced to close my eyes. This is when I begin to silently pray—both for Molly’s welfare and that I don’t lose my supper and make a bad situation worse.

  I continue to pray with closed eyes, trying to block out the disturbing conversation going on between my uncle and Zach. To further distract myself, I run my hand down Molly’s side. I can feel her breathing hard, and I suspect she’s in pain. Fortunately, other than the occasional kicking of her hooves, she’s remaining fairly calm. I wish I were better at this sort of thing, but my summer of working for Uncle Brad convinced me that I don’t have the stomach for veterinary medicine. I’m impressed that Zach seems undaunted by it.

  Despite my weak stomach, I’m determined to be strong. For Molly’s sake—and for Zach’s. After what seems like hours but is probably less than ten minutes, Zach finally stands up straight. “There.” He reaches for a nearby towel, wiping his hands in a satisfied way. He reaches for my phone and I take it off speaker.

  “I think it’s all back in place just like you said,” he says into the phone. Then he listens for a while as my uncle gives him some more advice and Zach asks some more questions. Finally, Zach thanks my uncle and hands the phone back to me.

  “Is she going to be okay?” I ask into the phone.

  “Hard to say. Prolapse is relatively rare in mares. Especially ones that have successfully birthed before. Like I told Zach, she should definitely be seen by a vet tomorrow. At the least she will probably need antibiotics.”

  “Thank you for helping,” I say gratefully. “Sorry to call so late.”

  “No problem. Is she standing yet?”

  I look at the big brown mass, still breathing heavily as she lies on the straw. Poor thing. “Not yet.”

  “Well, you kids get the foal back in there with her. That might help get her to her feet. Besides, the foal needs its colostrum.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Never mind right now, Micah. Just get the foal in with its mother.”

  “Yeah,” I assure him. “Zach is getting the foal.”

  “Let me know how they’re both doing . . . tomorrow,” he tells me. I thank him again and promise to call back after the other vet checks her. I tell Uncle Brad goodbye as Zach carries the colt back into the stall.

  “Here you go, Molly,” Zach gently sets the colt near his mother. “Here’s your baby. A fine, healthy colt. You should be proud.”

  The colt nudges his nose against his mother’s side, and after about a minute, she gets to her feet. Just like that, the colt is nuzzling beneath her and the two are reunited as if nothing traumatic ever happened. Leaning over the stall door, Zach and I both watch this scene in wide-eyed wonder.

  “It’s so peaceful,” I whisper.

  “Ja, and miraculous.”

  I nod in affirmation. “For sure—and on more than one level.”

  Zach turns to look at me, and for the first time I see what looks like genuine kindness in his dark brown eyes. “Thank you for calling your uncle.”

  “I was glad to.” I slowly shake my head in amazement. “I’m so glad Uncle Brad and Dad were together.” I explain how Dad flew my uncle to Chicago this weekend. “Otherwise it might’ve been tricky trying to reach my uncle. I’m not even sure if I still have his cell number.”

  “Brad sounds like a good guy,” Zach tells me. “I really appreciated his help.”

  “He thinks you should get a local vet to look at Molly.”

  “He told me that too. And I agree. I’ll run over to Daedi’s farm first thing in the morning. He has a phone in his barn I can use.”

  “Your grandfather has a phone in his barn?”

  Zach makes a half smile. “Ja. Phones aren’t allowed inside the house. No wires can go into a home. But some farms have phones outside of the house, sometimes in an outbuilding or in a barn—but only to be used for business.
” He shakes his head with a dismal expression. “Not my daed, though. He would never allow a phone in here. He’s very conservative. Both my parents are. You may have noticed.”

  Suddenly I feel awkward again. Although Zach has warmed up some, I know that he’s probably still irked at me for tricking him—and for embarrassing him in front of his family. “I know you got the note I wrote to you this morning,” I begin slowly. “But I’d like to apologize face-to-face too, Zach.”

  He waves his hand. “Never mind.”

  “No,” I insist. “I want to say how sorry I am for deceiving you. I want you to know that I never set out to do it. And when I came here, I didn’t mean to embarrass you like that. I just couldn’t think of any other way to meet you. I wanted to meet you, Zach. I wanted you to know why I never told you I was a girl. I wanted to make you understand that—”

  “I understand how it happened,” he says abruptly. “I picked you as my pen pal. I thought you were a boy. You went along with it.” He shrugs like it’s no big deal, but I can tell he’s still not okay with it. “I know all that now.”

  “Good, but I want you to know that early on, I’d planned to tell you I was a girl, but the more I got to know you, the more I got worried. I was afraid you’d stop writing to me. I didn’t want to lose you as my friend,” I continue meekly. “You felt like such a good friend in our letters. You understood me and I understood you. I know it was futile, but I just wanted to keep our friendship going.” I let out a long sigh. “Because there were times . . . when it felt like you were my very best friend, Zach.”

  He barely nods and his eyes are sad. “Ja. I know.”

  “And the way you helped me”—my voice cracks with emotion—“when my mom died. Well, I’ll always be grateful for that. You’ll probably never really understand how much that meant to me.” I look into his dark eyes. “But I do hope that you’ll forgive me—I mean, for deceiving you. Not right now . . . but in time, anyway.”