Page 64 of Higher Ground
The lawyer sighed again, and a small tinge of doubt began to creep into the corners of Byron’s vision.
“Could he contest it, if I transfer the farm to Tucker?”
“Not really, no. There’s always a chance he could try, but given the strained relationship and the cottage already being in his name, it would be unlikely to progress even if he tried.”
“Good.”
The old man was silent. Byron could make out the creak of his chair and the sound of gentle tapping.
“So, can we do that? Start the process to move the farm into Tucker’s name? All the other investments will stay with me.” Now that he knew it was possible, Byron was eager for it to be sorted as soon as possible. His foot tapped underneath him.
“If you’re sure, it’s easy enough. There’ll be taxes involved that one of you will need to cover, but otherwise there’s no issue with transferring the title as a form of early inheritance.”
“How soon can you draw up the paperwork?”
“A day or two, I’ll get one of the contract writers started on it tomorrow.” He clicked his tongue before continuing. “Byron, have you thought this through?”
Byron thought for a while, wondering if he should tell the old man his plans. It wouldn’t hurt, he supposed, to let someone in on his secrets, but it wouldn’t be fair on Emory. “I have.”
His lawyer didn’t say anything. Byron could hear heavy breaths through the phone and held his own as he waited for the old man’s response.
“Fair enough,” was all he said. There was no questioning in his dry tone. Byron supposed the lawyer was probably just indifferent. He wasn’t paid for his opinions on the legal choices of the people he wrote contracts and wills for.
Byron thanked him and hung up the phone. One step down, and only a few more before he could tell Emory.
Spotting Clayton rushing toward the study, Byron clambered after him. He scooped the boy up before he reached the door, hushing him and moving back towards the toy trucks. He glanced back, expecting to see the old sliding doors still shut, but Emory pushed them open as he looked over his shoulder.
Her hair hung around her face in messy strands, and the top few buttons of her shirt were undone, revealing the beige lacy tank she wore underneath. Byron swore she had one in every colour, and he would not be satisfied until he had seen her in all of them. And torn each one from her body so he could enjoy what was underneath. The glistening of Emory’s cheeks drew Byron’s attention away from her breasts. She’d been crying. Mascara had smudged under her eyes, but the corners of hermouth pushed her cheeks into the widest smile Byron had seen on her.
She moved towards him, and, still carrying Clayton on his hip, Byron closed the gap between them.
“I got it,” Emory whispered when they were close. Her hands lingered on Clayton’s back, and she kept her body a half step away from Byron. “I mean, there’s a group interview after exams, but she said it was just a formality and she will send me an offer tomorrow.”
She tipped back on her heels and tilted her chin up to look at Byron. Despite the wide smile, there was a hint of sadness in her eyes. The way they still glistened from tears he knew weren’t of the happy kind. Byron shifted Clayton on his hip, adjusting the boy’s weight so he could free a hand. He used his thumb to wipe away Emory’s tears, but she flinched at his touch.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
“We still have time.” Byron hoped, at least. She’d mentioned exams before, but they weren’t for another couple of weeks. Emory had mentioned how she wouldn’t need to go all the way to the city for them, because the university held rural exams only a few towns over. She and Mya had organised to spend the week there. It would be close to a month before she had to go to the city and even more before the graduate position would start after Christmas. They had time.
He had time to finish getting everything sorted and surprise her with his big plan.
Emory didn’t respond. She looked away from Byron and grabbed Clayton under his arms. Byron let her pull the little boy against her chest. Clayton hugged her, splattering kisses all over her wet face.
“We have time,” Byron repeated. He could feel her slipping through his fingers even as she stood firm in front of him.
“We don’t,” Emory said. “I don’t. If I stay here, I’ll convince myself not to go. And I have to go.”
“Of course you have to go, Em. There’s not a single piece of me that thinks you should stay in this town. But that doesn’t mean we don’t have time. That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy the time we have left.”
“Byron, please, don’t.” Emory took another step back and steered herself towards the hallway. “Please don’t make this any harder.”
She disappeared into Clayton’s room, but Byron followed her in. Emory dropped Clayton playfully on the bed, then moved about the room, packing away toys and folding laundry. It was busy work; Byron could see she was tidying what was around her because she couldn’t tidy her thoughts.
“Em, the other day, I promised I would never let you go. I meant it. And I don’t mean I’m trying to stop you from taking this job and leaving town because I know how important that is to you. I know you need to do it, and I would never hold you back from your dreams. But I need you like I need air. I need you to understand that you leaving town will not be the end of us.”
Pain clawed through his skin, in his chest, in his head, in his bones.
“We have time, Em,” he pleaded.Give me time.
