Country swore under his breath. They'd had the same issue last winter, and he was positive it'd been taken care of. This was an all-hands-on-deck issue. He had to go, but the last thing he wanted to do was leave that bed. He texted Polk back one-handed.
In Calgary. On my way
Setting the phone on the bed next to him, he closed his eyes and draped his arm over Jenna. He inhaled and let the soft scent of her shampoo wash over him. He wanted to stay. He wanted to be here every night holding her while they slept. I won't do that to you. I can't. He'd wanted to argue—to fight back with proof that a family wasn't more important than her, than them. But the words had died on his tongue.
He thought of the look on Polk's face as he'd walked out of the barn. Had Jenna made the right choice? Could he accept not having children of his own? As much as he loved Jenna, could he give that up? Jenna's breathing changed and he froze, worried his movement had woken her. As soon as she settled into a regular rhythm again, Country extricated himself from the bed.
He dropped his phone in his pocket, closed his hands over his keys still on the nightstand, and padded out into the hall, searching for anything he could find to leave Jenna a note. He'd left the hall light on when he'd come in and enough illumination drifted up from downstairs for him to see a desk in the loft. There was a notepad and pen next to the keyboard.
Country scrawled out a quick explanation for why he'd had to leave before she woke, then tore off the paper and crept back into the bedroom. He left it on the nightstand then reached over and pulled the covers up over Jenna's shoulders. The pull to lean over and kiss her was as strong as when a speed boat pulled him out of the lake on waterskis, but Country forced himself to let go of the rope. He backed up to the bedroom door, then slipped out and left the house, locking the front door behind him.
His truck complained as he started the engine in the pre-dawn cold. He probably should've plugged in the battery overnight since it was sitting out on the street instead of in his garage, though in his defence, he hadn't planned on staying. The cold that morning was only going to get worse for him.
Strawberries. Jenna had whispered something about eating strawberries last night. He wanted to ask her about it. He wanted to stay next to her and talk all morning—all day. As long as it took for them to figure this thing out.
Country gripped the steering wheel of his truck, his eyes fixed on the road lit up by the twin beams of his headlights. The sky was a canvas of navy blue and indigo as the sun crept up the horizon. He already missed the feel of Jenna in his arms. Her soft sheets and skin. The way she curled into him like he was all the protection she needed from her hurt and frustration.
He wasn't, though. He was the cause of at least part of it. Would she have made the same decisions if he hadn’t pushed his dreams to the forefront of their relationship? But he knew all too well what it looked like to hold back. He'd mastered that skill over the past decade, and it didn't produce good results either. He'd always wanted a family, but saying it out loud or not saying it left him in exactly the same place.
Alone.
Without Jenna.
Country’s truck rumbled as he turned onto the county road leading to the ranch. The sight was so familiar, it took him off guard when his heart swelled at the image of the barn pressed up against the fiery horizon line burning across the bottom of the sky. He didn't usually drive in at this hour.
He passed his house, pulled into the long driveway next to his parent's home, then parked his truck near the barn, the gravel and frozen snow crunching under the tires. Just as he'd expected, the damage was in the same place it was last time. Polk was already knee-deep in frozen mud, wrestling with the remnants of the pipe. He reached into the backseat and pulled on his waterproof coat, toque, and over-the-elbow work gloves, then stepped out and shoved his feet into his boots and gaiters.
"You've already shut off the main valve?" Country called out as he strode toward the yard. Ranch hands buzzed around the barn, their breath swirling like clouds. Country assessed the pool of water, calculating how far it had spread and whether it had seeped into the hay storage.
"Yep," Polk grunted. The timing was terrible for temperature, but more convenient that everyone else on the property was asleep and wouldn't miss the water being turned off.
Country stopped next to his brother. "Same spot as last time?"
Polk shook his head and pointed in the centre of the hole in front of him. "Probably cracked a few weeks back, then widened with the low temps." Country nodded. Not the same place. A crack several inches long split the pipe a metre or so from the joint they'd replaced last winter.
"We'll have to cut out the damaged section and replace it. It's too wide for a patch. I'll be right back." He jogged to the tool shed and retrieved a hacksaw and replacement piping, along with couplings and pipe sealant.
Polk measured the damaged section, marking a few inches beyond the crack on either side to ensure no weakened pipe was left. Using the hacksaw, they worked together to cut through the pipe. With the damaged section removed, they cleaned the remaining pipe ends, ensuring a smooth surface for the new section to join. Country measured the replacement pipe to fit the gap.
A ranch hand knelt next to Polk and switched out his gloves for clean ones. When they were tight, Polk reached up. "Pass me the sealant and those couplings." He applied a generous layer of waterproof pipe sealant to the ends of the existing pipe and the inside of the couplings. Country positioned the new section of pipe, Polk slid the couplings over the junctions, and Country tightened them with a wrench.
They moved to the side, panting and rubbing their hands together while they waited for the sealant to set. After ten minutes, Country took the long iron pipe that acted as a key for the water valve and tromped behind the barn. He lifted the cover and put the key in place, then turned it clockwise. The rush of water rumbled deep beneath him, and he waited for Polk to scream at him to turn it off.
Instead, a ranch hand waved at him from the side of the barn and gave a thumbs up. Country pulled the bar out and replaced the cover then walked back to find Polk, who was already filling in the hole around the pipe.
"Why the hell were you in Calgary overnight?" Polk asked as he shovelled.
"A simple 'thank you' would suffice." Country grabbed the shovel next to him.
Polk ignored him. "Saw the broadcast last night. Had some good clips."
Country grunted and dropped a shovel full of half-frozen dirt into the hole. "Glad you approve." They finished backfilling, then stepped out of the way so the ranch hands could cover the mud with hay. Once the sun hit the area later in the day, it was going to be a bog. "I'll put PEX piping on the list for this area in the spring."
"We could just bury it deeper. Should've been done in the first place."
Country propped the shovel outside the tool shed so he could clean it later. "Dad thought he could do everything himself."
Polk raised an eyebrow. "Wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"
