Leaving Time(118)

Grace reached for a bucket, turning it over to make a step stool. “Come on up here, pumpkin,” she said. “See those apples? Can you hand them to me one at a time?” She glanced over her shoulder at me. “We’re fine,” she said.

I drove up to the hay barn to find Gideon in a standoff with Clyde, who supplied our bales. Clyde was a guy we trusted; too often farmers tried to unload their moldy hay on us because they figured it was just elephants, so what was the difference? He had his arms folded across his chest. Gideon stood with one foot braced on a hay bale. Only half the load had been moved into storage from Clyde’s truck.

“What’s the problem?” I asked.

“Clyde says that he won’t take a check, because the last one bounced. But I can’t seem to find any of the spare cash, and until I do, Clyde isn’t inclined to let me unload the rest of the bales,” Gideon said. “So maybe you’ve got a solution.”

The reason the last check bounced was that we didn’t have any money. The reason there was no spare cash was that I’d used it to pay for produce this week. If I wrote another check, this one would bounce, too—I had used the last of the funds in our account to pay the vet’s bill.

I didn’t know how I was going to pay for groceries for my daughter next week, much less hay for the elephants.

“Clyde,” I said. “We’re going through a rough patch.”

“So’s the whole country.”

“But we have a relationship,” I replied. “You and my husband have been in business together for years, right?”

“Yeah, and he always managed to pay me.” He frowned. “I can’t let you have the hay for nothing.”

“I know. And I can’t let the elephants starve.”

I felt like I was in quicksand. Slowly, but surely, I was bound to drown. What I needed to do was fund-raise, but I barely had time for it. My research had been long forgotten; I hadn’t touched it in weeks. I could barely stay ahead of operations without trying to gauge the interest of new donors.

Interest.

I looked at Clyde. “I’ll pay you ten percent more if you give me the hay now and let me settle with you next month.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because whether or not you want to admit it, Clyde, we have a history, and you owe us the benefit of the doubt.”

He didn’t owe us anything. But I was hoping the guilt of being the straw that broke the sanctuary’s back would be enough to make him pretend otherwise.

“Twenty percent,” Clyde bargained.

I shook his hand. Then I climbed into the truck and began to haul the hay bales.

An hour later, Clyde drove away, and I sat down on the edge of a bale. Gideon was still working, his back flexing as he stacked the bales for more efficient storage, lifting them higher than I physically could manage.

“So,” I said. “You’re just going to pretend I’m not here?”

Gideon didn’t turn around. “Guess I learned from a master.”

“What was I supposed to do, Gideon? Do you have the answer? Because believe me, I want to hear it.”

He faced me, his hands resting lightly on his hips. He was sweating; bits of chaff and straw were caught on his forearms. “I’m sick of being your fall guy. Return the orchids. Get hay for free. Turn fucking water into wine. What’s next, Alice?”

“Should I not have paid the vet, then, when Syrah was sick?”

“I don’t know,” he said brusquely. “I don’t care.”

He pushed past me as I stood up. “Yes, you do,” I called, running after him, wiping my hand across my eyes. “I didn’t ask for any of this, you know. I didn’t want to run a sanctuary. I didn’t want to worry about sick animals and paying salaries and going bankrupt.”

Gideon stopped in the doorway. His silhouette was framed by the light as he turned. “So what do you want, Alice?”

When was the last time anyone asked me that?

“I want to be a scientist,” I said. “I want to make people see how much elephants can think, and can feel.”

He walked forward, filling my field of vision. “And?”

“I want Jenna to be happy.”

Gideon took one more step. He was so close now that his question drew across the bow of my neck, making my skin sing. “And?”

I had stood my ground before a charging elephant. I had risked my scientific credibility to follow my gut instinct. I had packed up my life and started over. But looking into Gideon’s face and telling the truth was the most courageous thing I had ever done. “I want to be happy, too,” I whispered.