Page 140 of Faking the Shot

“I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do. Because I liked your aunt.”

“She’s not dead yet,” Mack snapped.

“Sorry. That was a slip of the tongue. I like Winifred. And I think she’d get a kick out of knowing the house was sorted, if there truly is as little time as everyone seems to think.”

Mack eyed him for a long moment, then nodded. “Fine then.”

Zac exhaled.

“Ainsley has sent me a lot of stuff about the house, some of it from her lawyer, but I don’t read it all.” He moved to a table and pulled out a folder. “I’ve got most of the documents here.”

“Do you mind if I get a copy of this? I can take a photo with my phone. I just might know a few people who could help expedite matters.”

“Really?”

Zac shrugged. “Some people think having celebrity status is unfair, but when it comes to matters like this, I don’t mind pressing on the ‘Vancouver-won-the-Stanley-Cup’ button.”

Emmett giggled. “Bravo.”

“And if it means it’s one less thing for Ainsley to have to worry about, I’m happy.”

“Even if she doesn’t get back together with you?”

Zac nodded. “I love her. I’ll do whatever I can to prove it.” And love was patient, love was kind, love kept hoping, love persevered. “But hey, like I said earlier, I’m hoping that this will bless her and your aunt while there’s still time. And I know that with everything else going on in Ainsley’s world, this is just something small, that might not even work, but if it does and it helps her just a little bit, then I’ll be glad.”

Mack leaned back against the plush sofa and studied him.

“What?”

“You’re the real deal, aren’t you?”

“I’ve always tried to be.”

Mack shook his head. “I told her this fake relationship between you two was a dumb idea, that she’d end up regretting it. If it makes you feel any better, she does.”

His heart flickered. But no, he wouldn’t go down that path. Not yet. He cleared his throat. “So the house zoning stuff?”

“Sure. You might as well take the folder. It’s all on emails. I can print them off again.” He handed Zac the folder. “Good luck.”

“Thanks. I’ll let you know if I hear anything.”

Mack nodded. “Keep in touch.”

* * *

Some days,it felt like she lived a dream. Like she was Anne of Green Gables living on windswept Prince Edward Island, making the most of the time as they headed into spring. On those days, she could play pretend, just like she had when she was younger, and she imagined herself with red hair and not brown, imagined a life that wasn’t filled with tragedy like what she’d known.

On those days she tried to focus on the good things, the little heart buoys of life, like the smell of sea air, or watching leaves dancing in the air, or spotting the unfurling of pink blossoms on the fruit trees in her aunt’s garden, each one a tiny pinprick of light and life and hope. For most of the time, life seemed gray, as her aunt’s demise grew more certain every day.

In some ways, she was glad to have been fired from her job. She didn’t have to be Abigail anymore, didn’t have to pretend anymore. She could be grieving niece and chief cook and bottle washer, while her mother and aunt made the most of their time together.

Aunty Win was too sick to paint now. She slept a lot, and when she was awake she talked with Ainsley’s mom. That allowed time for Ainsley to take long walks on the beach, to lift her hands and let the wind buffet her cheeks, to just be. Just herself, God, and the wind and rain.

The world had shrunk into this space. Benson was here some of the time, Mack had come a couple of times too. He’d be here on the weekend, and she’d return to the city, do some of her commitments, say hi to Louie, who was being looked after by Michael, before returning. She could not regret this time, knowing her family would soon shrink again, as four blood relatives would become three.

The worries about her job, her career, the stupid photoshopped images seemed to fade into insignificance. Her one regret? That the house wasn’t ready. Well, it might be ready on the inside, thanks to the builders and decorators, but without the planning permission, it would never be the safe space that women needed.

Her lawyer had emailed many times, but there was still no progress. She wondered sometimes if the application had fallen through a bureaucratic crack, but even that was not helpful for her peace of mind. She needed to stay calm to keep her focus on what was real, on her family, on God. And in this bubble of precious time, remember that in the midst of everything, God’s love still flowed.

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