Exeter Ecstasy
"Veterinarian Nneka treats animals with care—but the thick Togolese farmer who brings her sick livestock keeps returning with healthy animals just to see her again."
The sheep was fine.
Nneka knew it. The thick Togolese woman bringing it in knew it.
"There's nothing wrong with this animal," Nneka said.
"Are you sure? Maybe you should examine more closely." Akouvi stepped closer. "Maybe you should examine me."
"That's not my specialty."
"It could be."
The farm visits became regular.
Animals that didn't need treatment. A farmer who needed something else.
"You're wasting my time," Nneka said without conviction.
"Am I?" Akouvi's thick body blocked the barn door. "Or am I making the best investment of my life?"
"What's the investment?"
"You."
In the barn, among hay and honest animals, they found each other.
Akouvi's farming hands were rough. Her heart was soft.
"I've never felt this way," she admitted.
"About a vet?"
"About anyone."
Rural Devon kept secrets well.
The vet who made too many farm calls. The farmer who smiled too much.
"People will talk," Nneka warned.
"Let them." Akouvi pulled her into the farmhouse. "I'm tired of hiding."
"Hiding what?"
"How much I want you."
Exeter's best vet moved to the country.
Not for the animals—for the woman who came with them.
"Best patient I ever had," Nneka said.
"I'm not a patient."
"No. You're much better."
Some treatments, they learned, cured the healer too.