move toward the animal while Keaton pulls out a few tools and a needle full of something that he injects her with. I hope to God it’s the best epidural a sheep can get.
Something in me moves without a thought passing through my head as if my limbs are on autopilot. I go to her, this wounded female animal, and take a hold of her chin, directing her eyes up and into mine.
“Shh, baby. It’s going to be okay.” I stroke her fur rhythmically.
“All right, hold her steady.” Keaton’s fierce eyes flash to me.
We all hunker down, and I try to keep my focus on her pained eyes. The minute Keaton begins to deliver the baby, I feel it radiate throughout her body. Her limbs go stiff and start to shake, and the sounds coming out of her throat are a hundred times worse than anything I’ve ever heard.
“Hold her!” Keaton snaps, and while I can’t see what he’s doing from my vantage point, the frustration on his brow is making me nervous.
What feels like a lifetime, but is probably only another minute, later, I hear the sigh from the mama sheep and a mewling cry from what must be the baby Keaton helped her deliver.
“All right, mama, one more.” Keaton strokes her belly.
There is a lapse between the babies, and I feel the animal breathe some relief. She’s gathering strength, regaining some of her wits now that the pain of the botched delivery is subsiding.
“She’s contracting. Here we go!”
The compassionate, thorough vet, the one I met all those months ago, is deep in the middle of doing what he does best. To watch him in the environment he excels the most in … it’s an honor. Watching Keaton work is an art form.
With one last push, grunts emitting from her throat, the second lamb slides out.
“Good job,” I whisper in her ear, a tear of joy sliding down my cheek.
Being in that moment, with this animal and with the man who helped her through it … it was breathtaking. There is a buzz in the air that pierces straight through my body. It’s life itself, creating sparks of electricity all around us. I’ve never felt more invincible, or more human. The juxtaposition is so intense that I might start to weep.
I stand, moving to the side of the pen as the farm owners and hands tend to the mother and babies.
“That was incredible.” I breathe, clutching my chest to make sure my heart is still beating.
He comes toward me, pinning my back to the wooden wall of the stall. His lips cover mine, his gloved hands staying at his sides. I’m not even worried about the slime and blood getting on me, which is odd, but …
I can only focus on the single point of contact. His mouth on mine. Possessing it so wildly that I might pass out from the assault.
The kiss is brutal and passionate, a lifeline connecting the two of us. Keaton stokes my body like it’s a flame and he’s an arsonist, just from the skilled use of his tongue and teeth.
We just watched life being born, a soul come into the world. It was beautiful and painful, all of the emotions mixing into one.
Only when one of the newborn lambs whimpers does he pull away, his forehead pressing into mine.
“You just keep surprising me.” The words are whispered reverence.
My eyes stay glued to his, words failing me.
Keaton swivels his head around to check on the baby lambs. “Let me tend to them. Go wash up and I’ll meet you back at the truck in ten.”
I take the opportunity to go wash up, because as much as that was incredible, no one likes the stench of blood and afterbirth on them. I hose down, even spraying some of my hair because the night is hot and humid, and my blood feels like lava. Something about watching a life come into this world has my adrenaline jacked to eleven.
Ten minutes later, Keaton joins me where I sit on the hood of his truck.
“Thanks for coming out here.” We aren’t touching, and both of our gazes look off into the dark fields beyond.
“That was truly amazing, Keaton. How do … how are you so sure of yourself?”
I think that’s the thing I both envy and love about him. He always seems so confident in what he’s doing. I can’t even pick out tea without changing my mind six times, and yet he could be thrown into a