Page 65 of Eyes Like a Hurricane

Lachlan

The appointment was a success. Ms. Easton will draw up all the required paperwork to file with the court this week. I feel a little more at ease. We are one step closer to removing Cody from our lives.

After thirty minutes of driving, the exit signs for Whitefish appear ahead.

“Which exit do we take?” I ask Aislinn as she stares at the directions on her phone.

She looks over at me, offering me a wide smile.

“It says to get to Whitefish Alpaca Farm, we need to take the next exit. At the stop sign, take a left to go across the overpass,” she explains, using her hands like an air traffic controller.

I put on my right blinker and take the off-ramp. Following Aislinn’s directions, we pull up to wrought iron gates with alpacas running across the center. A large wooden sign hangs above the gate. ‘Whitefish Alpaca Farm’ is burned in bold letters.

We ease the truck across the slotted grate and bump our way down the gravel road. When we arrive, there is a large barnwith lots of smaller fenced enclosures. Putting the truck in park, we open our doors and jump down onto the gravel. My boots crunch against the small rocks, and I reach for Aislinn’s hand. She looks up at me and smiles before tugging me toward the door to the main office and gift shop.

An older woman with gray-streaked hair opens the door and steps out to greet us. “You must be Aislinn and Lachlan,” she inquires. “I’m the owner, Marta Owens. Thanks for coming out here. You said you were interested in two baby alpacas for your therapy ranch?”

Aislinn nods and extends her hand. “Yes, I’m Aislinn. It’s a pleasure to put a face with a voice. This is my boyfriend, Lachlan. He is the owner of the ranch.”

I grin, reaching for Marta’s hand and giving it a firm shake. “Good evening, ma’am. We would love to see what kind of selection you have and whether they would be a good fit for our ranch. We have an equine therapy program, and one aspect of the program involves learning the shearing process, spinning, and knitting. We have a small herd of sheep and thought some alpacas would be a good fit. I was sent with explicit instructions from my sister to find two, which have already been named Dewdrop and Sunray.”

She smiles warmly and grasps my hand in both of hers. “I think I have just the babies to choose from over here in the nursery. There are five between four and eight months old. Come and have a look. We have two bay black, one light silver, one light fawn, and one medium rose gray. Why don’t you come this way? Sounds like my light silver and light fawn might be right up your alley.”

Aislinn and I walk hand in hand behind Marta as she leads us to one of the fenced-in areas to the left of the barn. Aislinn laughs as all five wobbly-legged alpacas run to greet us.

“Oh, how can we choose?” she whispers.

“You can go in and see them if you want. They are extremely friendly and affectionate,” Marta explains.

Without a second thought, Aislinn is diving between the split rail fencing. She stands up and is immediately surrounded by all five juvenile alpacas. She hops and skips around the pen. They follow her like a mother duck. I watch as she reaches her hands out to pet each of their necks and backs.

Folding my arms across my chest, I stand there smiling, watching the antics play out before my eyes.

“Lachlan, you have to come meet them!” Aislinn laughs.

I shake my head, grinning. Placing my hands on the post, I proceed to climb the split rails until I’m straddling the top rung.

I hear a squeal and look up to see Aislinn’s arms windmilling. The alpacas have her backed up to a small plastic kiddie pool in the corner of their area.

“Lachlan!” she shrieks.

I hop off the top of the fence, landing with both feet in the dirt, and take off toward her just as a large splash echoes through the paddock. The water she displaces when she lands sprays the alpacas, dousing them. All five babies honk and begin pronking away as fast as they can. They scatter across the paddock as belly laughter comes from Marta.

I skid to a stop in front of the small pool and look down to see a drenched Aislinn looking back at me. I bend over to offer my hand, but her fingers slip from my grasp, and she plops back into the water with another small splash. I bend at the waist and grab my sides, laughing hard.

She tilts her head up, causing water to stream down her cowboy hat. She smirks before reaching for me one last time. While bent over, I brace one hand against my knee and offer myother hand toward her. She digs her heels into the soft dirt to get traction, then lifts herself up just enough so we are at eye level.

“You think that’s funny, huh?” she whispers. The glint in her eye tells me there may not be a correct answer to this question, but I can’t stop laughing.

The alpacas are humming and honking behind us in pure confusion about what is happening in their pool. Aislinn reaches up so quickly that I don’t have time to register her hand grabbing onto the back of my neck. Before I can blink, I’m falling face-first into the pool beside her. My hand reaches out just in time to catch myself before my face hits the water.

Laughing hysterically, Aislinn says, “Now it’s really funny. You’re the Lach-ness monster of Whitefish.”

I swipe my hand across the top of the water, spraying her chest. With two hands, she shoves water back at me, coating my torso and face. I sputter, water dribbling down my face, and tackle her back into the pool.

“Uncle! Uncle!” she shouts, and I prop her up. “Okay! You win!”

I smile smugly. “I won the night you agreed to dance with me. Are you ready to get out, or are you having fun cooling off?”

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