Christmas Lights by RJ Scott & V.L. Locey

Author:RJ Scott & V.L. Locey [Scott, RJ]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-1-78564-195-4
Publisher: RJ Scott

6

Jacob

They said they wanted a shinny game, and so they were getting one. Just as soon as I got the tractor engine put back in place. I breathed a sigh of relief when it was settled and off the engine hoist. Hours of work lay ahead yet, but things were looking good. Maybe we could avoid rolling hay bales through snow and ice and cow shit today. What a novel idea!

Wood stove roaring in the corner, I gathered up my tools and got to work. I’d moved away from my warm boyfriend at quarter after two, leaving him and everyone else sound asleep to come here to wrap up this job. I’d filled a thermos with disgusting instant coffee, skipped eating, and crept out the front door, wishing against wish I could stay in bed, cuddle with Ryker, and enjoy Christmas morning, just this one time. But cows do not milk and feed themselves. There’s no such thing as a day off for people who care for animals. No vacations either. We had never had family holidays like so many other kids did. No trips to Disney World. There was no one to tend to the cattle, and we simply couldn’t afford it. That trip to Canada where I’d met Ryker had set us back financially. I thought, when the nights were cold and long and sleep eluded me, that even with a small bursary, the trip had been another step the money issues we now were buried under.

I refused to dwell on the ring. I’d have to come up with something else to give Ryker, but I had no idea what. It was Christmas Day. I had nothing for the man I loved. Nothing. Unless he could enjoy the sounds and sight of a working tractor, he’d get nothing from me. It made me sad and mad, both emotions vying for that gold medal. Right now, anger was winning. As I worked and ratcheted and skinned my knuckles more times than I could count, my resentment for this damn tractor and this farm grew. By the time my mother, dressed for morning chores, arrived with more coffee and an egg sandwich wrapped in foil, I was seething.

“Take a break and eat, son.” She walked over to me, holding out the food and drink. I waved her off. “Jacob, you have to eat. Now take five minutes and—”

My greasy fingers slipped off the wrench, and my knuckles raked over the engine block. Again. This time I didn’t just cuss. I whipped the wrench across the equipment shed and rounded on my mother. It was ugly. I was ugly.

“Jesus Christ, Mom, I don’t have five minutes! I don’t have one minute! This fucking farm is sucking every second of my life away from me. I don’t even have time to spend with my friends or my boyfriend because of this miserable place. So stop trying to make me feel better because there is no feeling better until I can get this

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