“Well, it’s complicated.”
Rupert scoffs. “Most important things are.”
“Sierra’s my daughter.”
“Is she now? That doesn’t exactly make me fall off my chair. You’re doing right by her?”
“Of course.”
He nods approval, unsurprised. “What about the farm?” he prompts.
“I have to think about it,” I say.
He gives me a bright look. “You talk to Sylvia about it.”
I nod, although I’m not sure when I’ll do that. I wonder how paying support is going to affect my assets and figure it might be a tougher transaction to manage than it might have been a few weeks ago. I can’t suggest to Sylvia that we get married for financial reasons. I have to convince her that I want to be withher first.
I have to tell her how I feel. I was waiting, giving her time, but now I need to make that confession.
Maybe, in fact, that’s the last obstacle between us. If I tell her how I feel and propose, that might be exactly right.
“You get the farm assessed,” I tell Rupert. “You’re not going to offer me some pity price just because you’re trying to get my life in order.”
He grins at me. “It’ll be a fair price. My retirement and your future.” He offers his hand and I shake it, more than glad I came out this way.
“If we do this, you have to promise to come visit,” I say before I release his hand.
“I think I might need to take some breaks from Annette and Sarnia,” he muses. “Besides, Annie will be waiting on me to come tell her all the news.” I know he regularly drives down to the little cemetery beside the country church they used to attend, takes a lawn chair and sits there by Annie’s grave, bringing her up to date. Doesn’t make sense to me, but it’s not a habit that is hurting anybody else.
“Whether or not I buy your farm, you can come to Empire and stay with me as long as you like,” I say. “I’ve drive you down to Annie whenever you want.”
“Thank you,” Rupert says with evident relief. “I knew I could count on you, Mike.”
By the time I leave the farm, the rain is pouring down, drumming on the roof of my truck. The thunder is rumbling overhead and the gravel road has some killer puddles. I decide to stop at the café for dinner, mostly in the hopes of seeing Sylvia.
36
SYLVIA
In a way, I love how hectic life has become. In another way, I can’t wait for the tribute concert to be over. We’re run off our feet at the bistro, first with Luke’s crews stopping in every night, then with the first of the fans to arrive. I’m glad to have Cameron available when Una needs her and, miracle of miracles, Una does call her in. Sierra is working hard on the greenhouse and all her supporting materials – there’s a stash of flowerpots and crates and who knows what else gathering at one end of my studio, undoubtedly gathered with Willow’s help. I know Mike is working a lot of hours, too. We text and call but it’s not the same.
It’s more complicated now that Sierra’s here all the time. I’m glad, of course, that she’s here, but I’ll have less time on my own. I feel protective now of my days in the studio and my nights with Mike. There’s no way he and I can be together in the trailer, not with Sierra in the bunk bed above us.
And I’m haunted by his dad’s threats. In daylight, I can dismiss them more readily and tell myself to ignore them. Atnight, with Sierra sleeping above me, I can’t bear the idea of anyone doing her injury.
I’m glad when Mike arrives at the bistro on Friday night. Sierra greets him with visible pleasure and ushers him to his usual table.
“I want to talk to you,” he says when I go to take his order. “Alone and soon.”
My heart skips but I try to remain composed. “Do you want me to come to the house?”
“I was thinking we could go for a drive down to Port Cavendish and talk.”
I can’t help but smile. “We never used totalkthere.”
He grins. “Talk first.”
I mentally go through my calendar and wince. “Later tonight maybe?”
