The Borrowed Goat

The first time the goat went into Eli’s garden, he assumed it was a mistake.

It stood in the middle of his vegetable patch as if it had a right to be there. It was chewing on lettuce that he had planted three weeks ago. When he stepped closer, it looked up at him, still chewing, unbothered.

“You’re not mine, “he said.

The goat disagreed by continuing to eat.

An hour later, there was a knock on his door. When he opened the door, a woman stood there, wind-tousled and slightly out of breath.

“Sorry,” she said, glancing past him toward the yard. “That would be Benedict.”

“Benedict,” Eli repeated.

“My goat.”

“Your goat ate my lettuce.”

Benedict, visible over his shoulder, chose that moment to sample a tomato plant.

The woman winced. “He’s got a wandering spirit.”

Eli crossed his arms. “He’s got expensive taste.”

“I can pay you back,” she said quickly, “or trade. Jam? I make a decent peach preserve.”

He hesitated. The apology in her voice felt real. “Jam.”

She gave a big smile. “Deal.”

---

Benedict came back two days later.

This time, Eli caught him earlier. Before he could decimate anything beyond a nibble, he walked him to the fence and found the same woman already heading his way, a jar in her hand.

“Peach,” she said, handing it to him while grabbing the goat's collar.

‘You trained him to do this,” he said.

“I did not, she said, though Benedict leaned against her leg like a co-conspirator.

“My name is Mara.”

“Eli.”

Benedict sneezed.

---

By the fourth visit, Eli stopped being surprised.

Benedict showed up. Mara followed. Sometimes with jam. Once with fresh bread. Another time with a small smile and a shrug.

“How’s the fence repairs going?’ he asked one afternoon.

“I keep thinking I have it fixed,” she said. “He is creative.”

Eli glanced at the goat, chewing on his shoelaces. “That’s one word for it.”

Mara laughed soft and warm. It settled in his chest like it belonged there.

They talked more while Benedict wandered. About the weather, the crops coming in, and then on to other things.

Favorite seasons. Bad habits.

----

The day that Benedict didn’t show up, Eli noticed.

He told himself it was good—no lost vegetables.

Still, by afternoon, he found himself near the fence, looking out toward the neighboring property.

He lasted another hour before grabbing his jacket.

Mara was in her yard, fixing a loose board.

“No goat today,” he said.

She looked up, surprised. “He is sulking. I reinforced the fence.’

“Oh.” He shifted his boots in the dirt. “Good.”

“Good,” she echoed, but neither sounded convinced.

Benedict bleated faintly from behind the barn.

Eli glanced towards the sound, then back at Mara. “Shame,” he said. “I was getting used to the company.”

Mara looked at him, then said. “Would you like to come in for some jam and fresh bread?”

Eli smiled and nodded.

Benedict Bleated.