Page 16 of Sunshine
“We’ve decided marriage can wait.”
I grit my teeth. I can practically see his smile.
“Perhaps indefinitely,” he says breezily. “It’s just a piece of paper after all.”
My jaw clamps tighter. But I remind myself living together in a conjugal relationship in Canada is just as legally binding as marriage—at least it is after three years if they stay in Ontario. Or sooner if they have a child. My gut burns at the last thought.
“Is this because the mediator sided with me on my Gran’s estate not being a part of our assets, since you had already moved on by then?”
The only reason I won this little challenge was because Gran didn’t have much else besides the property and my lawyers made it clear since the property held great sentimental value,far greater than monetary, and Gary had already been having a long-term sexual relationship before Gran died, it should stay with me.
To which Gary made the mistake of blurting that if it meant so much surely I should be willing to give up more money to keep it.
The judge, having just lost his own grandmother at the ripe old age of a hundred and four, sided with me. For once.
“I’m not answering that, Tess. Is that where you are? I went by the condo to talk but the doorman said you’d moved out. Did you run back home?”
This phone call was simply to poke me. To get me to say something he’d somehow use against me. So I gather a breath and release it slowly.“That is none of your business now, Gary. From now on if you need to communicate with me, do it through our lawyers.” I don’t wait for a reply, I simply end the call. And because I’m so freakin’ zen, I don’t slam my phone on the table, but gently place it next to my laptop.
I may have learned that lesson the hard way.And I can no longer afford to purchase a new phone for the sake of my temper.
And okay, I’m totallynotzen. I may appear it on the outside, but inside? I’m kicking things and screaming—loudly—and in curse words. I plop down in my chair and open my laptop but when I pull up the document I was working on, which isn’t the one I need to be working on, I only get angrier. At the noise, at Gary, and at myself.
Rage boils in me, especially at how helpless I am. Gary and the judge stole my independence, no, my autonomy. And…
A loud grinding sound has me flying to my feet. Glaring out the window, I grit my teeth. I can dosomethingthough. I’m not helpless with everything. I can damn well stop that noise.
With all my anger focused on one thing —the noise— I pull the set of binoculars Gran kept for wildlife watching off the window ledge. Training the lenses at the trees, I see a huge pile of dirt… My eyes narrow…on Gran’s property—my property.
There’s a backhoe, and a dump truck with Wolfe written on the side and what clearly looks like the makings of a construction site. Setting down the binoculars, I spin on my heel, heading to the pile of mail I’d ignored yesterday and since already forgotten about.I’d seen that name, Wolfe, on some mail, hadn’t I?
I flip through several envelopes before finding the ones I want.As I scan the first few letters I realize Gran had a portion of the property severed. A few acres right where the former house and barn stood way back in the early nineteen hundreds. And she’d sold it to someone named C. Callen. Who was building a house. The letters warn about the upcoming construction and welcoming Gran to call with any concerns. Another letter thanks her for allowing them access through her land for ease of the build.And the last one contains a cheque. A large one. Which I toss aside because I’m suddenly wondering if Gran was even of sound mind when she severed the property. Maybe I didn’t notice when I was at her bedside that she was slipping. I mean she kept a pet chicken for heaven’s sake. Had they taken advantage of my poor sweet gran?
Beyond angry, I grab my cell and dial the number for the company, but I only get an answering machine message telling me to call back between 9 am and 5 pm. Looking at the screen of my iPhone, I see it’s only eight thirty. I head into the spare room and start riffling through papers left in a tidy stack on her desk. It’s there in the innocent-looking pile that I find a rental agreement for the trailer gran kept hooked up to the property about two kilometers up the road. I knew my parents had lived there a while when they first got married, but now it was rented to the same C. Callen.
Dropping the paper, my jaw shifts to the side as I remember my neighbor from last night. He’d said he was renting a trailer down the road while he built his house.Oh, hell no.
Grabbing Gran’s shawl from the back of her chair, I slip on a pair of her house shoes and head through the back door to walk across the field.
“How dare you, C. Callen,” I grumble as I storm through the overgrown grass. Well, storm would be how I’d walk if I wasn’t waylaid by the long arduous weedy grass and Gran’s slippers, which are a size too large for me.
I’m almost there when I’m suddenly thrown off balance, and pitched forward. I yip as my ankle twists, and I stumble. Cursing loud enough for the cow to stop grazing and look at me from the field to my left, I examine my ankle and the hole in the ground that caused it to burn and throb.
As I stand—well, attempt to stand, tentatively putting a foot down—my ankle burns hotter, and pain shoots up my leg. I whimper a moment, but it’s mostly because I’m throwing a pity party for myself in my head.
“You okay?”
Startled by the voice, I yelp. And once again, just like the night before, I’m in fighting stance, sore ankle screaming, staring at the ‘not a badguy biker.’ And curses, he looks just as ruggedly handsome as I remember. Today in a clean white tee that shows off every rippling muscle, jeans complete with tool belt—yum, and big tan leather work boots.
“Is that all you can say?” I snark to hide my embarrassment and pain.
“I believe I said a lot more than that yesterday.” He smiles easily, his relaxed expression annoying me further.
I start to step forward but when a jolt of pain shoots up through my ankle, I stop and put my hands on my hips, hiding my pain. Remembering why I’m in the field with a throbbingankle, I shout, “You!” Scowling at him, I point at his chest, a hot flush running through me at its perfection. “This is all your fault.”
“I saw you coming…” He stops as my words hit. I watch his brow wrinkle a moment before it rises. “My fault? How is you struggling through the grass and falling on your ass my fault?” He points to the right of the cottage. “There’s a better path over there. Your grandmother let me clear it so I could get back and forth without…” He looks down at my ankle. “Getting tangled up in the weeds and rabbit holes.”
“Rabbits aren’t native to the island, only snowshoe hares and they don’t burrow.” I cross my arms. I don’t know much about animals, but I know this.
