It was a fluke that our investigative team arrived after the rainstorms of that spring and captured the images of Bull fumbling in the field with his cows. Frolicking is how the cameramen had captioned his video. We laughed, wondering unfairly what they were doing in the meadows of Vermont. I recall feeling uncomfortable reporting such a suggestion as the fine-assed cowboy was humping his animals, but it was a slow summer season, and I remember thinking the story wouldn’t be viewed by many. It hadn’t, actually. The statistics showed it was one of our least watched episodes, but something happened over on social media, and the video went viral. Perhaps it’s what Bull said; an animal activist group got involved. We didn’t follow up. Without a direct interest in the television airing, we moved forward.
I’m so ashamed.
The story made a revival all these years later due to the social media sensationalism. Lex wanted to try a new segment, highlighting old news with follow-ups. We sat around in office chairs, and he reported out former stories, flashing snippets of them before we commentated. We filmed an entire series about eighteen months ago, intending to use the news flashes as this one was used as a filler. I’m a little surprised the network would play a video with me in the picture, given I no longer work for them, but they hold all the rights to what they’ve produced, present example included, even if I’m currently not employed by them.
My pace slows as my feet grow heavy, the weight of what just happened pressing me down. Bull will never forgive me, and I don’t blame him. Reporting on the average person never made me comfortable, but then again, mega-stars are just people too, and it shouldn’t have felt right to expose their dirt either. I’d always had a twinge of guilt covering divorces when the husband cheated with a nanny or reports of a woman losing her child before birth. How is that newsworthy? It’s not. It’s private, and a good reminder that I no longer have what it takes to report such sensationalism.
As I continue down the gravel drive to Bull’s house, my thoughts race. What will I do? Rita is my first thought. Bull will not want me at his place, and I’ll need to call my best friend once again for support.
“Scarlett, hold up.” A deep male tenor behind me stops me in my tracks, and I turn to find Bull’s father coming down the lane.
“Harland?” I walk toward him, wondering if something else happened after one of the most humiliating moments of my life.
“Hang on,” he says, drawing closer to me, moving faster at sixty-something than I am.
“Harland, are you okay?” He’s my first concern as he’s breathing fast when we catch up to one another. He reaches for my hand extended toward him.
“Let’s walk a bit,” he says to me, waving out an arm, turning us back in the direction of Bull’s home. We begin in silence, and the anticipation of what he has to say rattles my weary bones. The evening is warm, and I’m suddenly exhausted. With the tension between us, I break first.
“I’m so sorry, Harland. I never meant any harm to your family or the farm.” I wish I could explain myself better. Saying it was my job feels like a weak and unworthy excuse. I don’t have a good reason for what I’ve done or what the network did.
“Darlin’, I’ve never met a person without regrets, and anyone who says he doesn’t have any is lying.” He softly chuckles. “Everyone makes mistakes. Bull’s made at least three, named Jennifer, Sabrina, and Gisela. Might even be a few more in there I don’t know about.”
I offer a weak smile, recalling my own major mistake named Dr. Shelton Blake. Somehow, my error seems so much bigger than anything Bull could have ever done. He deserves someone better than me. Better than Jennifer, Sabrina, Gisela, and now Scarlett on his list of women who have scorned him.
“It's what you do about a misstep once taken that’s the real lesson. Once you learn the wrong you’ve done, what matters is the next steps you take to make it right.”
I nod to agree as I look up at the dirt path before us. In some ways, I’ve just learned a valuable lesson. Reports such as the one the network made have consequences. It’s a lesson taught to a child but not necessarily understood until you’re standing in the middle of a poor decision. It occurs to me that Harland is patient and calm as he speaks to me. He isn’t scolding me or accusing me of wrongdoing as my parents would.
“I don’t know how I’ll make this right.” My eyes scan the lane and the pasture fenced in beside it. Somewhere off in the distance is that romantic tree, and Bull could have lost all this because of the network’s false reporting.
“Things happen on farms. Sometimes, it’s misinterpreted. Typically, it doesn’t make the news, but . . .” Harland shrugs.
I find little comfort in what he’s said as the initial story wasn’t really about the farm but a man who’d headed to the altar more than his fair share of times.
“I’ve hurt him,” I whisper. “I’ve hurt all of you.”
Harland sighs heavily. “That happens too, darlin’. It won’t be the last time, but hurt comes in waves.” He swipes his hand up and down like the rolling hills around us. “So does forgiveness.”
“I don’t think he’ll forgive me,” I whisper.
“First, you’ll need to forgive yourself.” Harland’s squinting, his gaze focused somewhere off in the distance. “You’ll need to accept what you did, realize what’s done is done, and then take steps to do right by it.”
While I understand what he’s saying, I don’t know how and say as much. “I don’t know what to do.” Apologizing will never be enough.
“I think it’s about time you learn more about this land and how we operate, seeing as it holds our future, and so do you.”
He continues to gaze forward when I turn to look at him. “I might be old, but I’m not blind. I know a pregnant woman when I see one. With life churning inside her, she has a certain glow about her. You have that same dazed, dreamy look my Rose had when she was carrying the boys.”
“The girls I work with call that dopey look pregnancy brain as I’m a bit forgetful at times.”
“The girls at work know you’re pregnant before the family?” Harland chides another slap of hurt in his tone.
“I had morning sickness at work. It was difficult to disguise as Audrey and Zara have both had babies.”
Harland nods. “You and Bull keeping it a secret for some reason?”
“No, sir, but there are some . . . complications surrounding my pregnancy, and I think we just wanted to be certain of a few things before we shared with everyone.”
“You feeling alright? Taking your vitamins and such?” His concern comforts me. His simple questions are more than my own parents have asked. Then again, they don’t know I’m pregnant yet unless Shelton told them, which I doubt he did.
“It’s nothing physical. Sprout is doing great.”
Harland makes a funny face, scrunching up his nose and forcing the crow’s feet near his eyes to fold. “Hope Sprout isn’t really the name you’re giving my grandbaby. It was difficult enough when Rose wanted to name Blade after a piece of grass.” He chuckles, and my smile grows.
“Bull’s been around the block some. Is the complication his reckless desire for love? Are you questioning your relationship status?” The question surprises me and sounds rather social media-ish. Does Harland know something I don’t? Is Bull unhappy with me? If he wasn’t before, he certainly is now. I have no doubt he’ll want nothing to do with me after this mess. He’ll decide he doesn’t want the baby after all if we learn it’s not his.