“Maybe both of those things are true.”
I sigh. “Maybe.”
“You know, it’s common for men as they age to become, for lack of a better word, grumpy. It has to do with their decreasing testosterone levels.”
I cringe. “I don’t want to talk about Roy’s testosterone levels, Simon. Besides, according to Muriel and Teddy, he’s been this way since he moved here.”
“Hmm … You said he was married once?”
“Yeah. And I think he has a daughter. Or had one.” My curiosity about Roy’s past has taken over my idle thoughts since I saw that portrait yesterday. I’m intrigued about what might have happened, and if it made him into who he is today.
“Well, my dear, it sounds like you don’t really have options, then.”
Simon’s right. Whether it’s my guilt or sense of responsibility, or because I know it’s the right thing to do, I have to go to Roy’s in the morning and offer my help again. Even if he doesn’t deserve it. “How do I do it in a way that won’t make him reach for his gun?” Not that he could fire it at me at the moment, thank God.
“By beguiling him, of course.” I hear the smile in Simon’s voice. “If he’s isolated himself for this long, perhaps it’s best to let him get used to you being around, for starters.”
I shake my head, though he can’t see it. “I can’t believe I’m actually trying to find a way to help that asshole milk his stupid goats.”
Simon chuckles. “Remember when you used to be terrified of those things?”
“Vaguely. Funny enough, next to bears, they don’t seem so scary anymore.”
“Yes, perhaps we best not mention that part of this story to your mother, okay? She already worries enough.” He pauses. “And how are things otherwise?”
“They’re fine.” My stock answer these days. “Jonah’s been working all the time lately.”
“And how does that make you feel?”
I stifle my groan at Simon’s favorite question. “Lonely?” I offer casually, but there’s nothing casual about that. “Sometimes, it seems like working is more important to Jonah than spending time with me.” It’s the first time I’ve ever said that out loud, and it feels like a betrayal.
“Have you talked to him about it?”
“Not in so many words.” Not at all, really. “I’m trying to be supportive.”
“Are you feeling resentment toward Jonah because of it?”
“No. I mean, how can I? I told him to take the job.” Mainly because I felt guilty after overhearing his conversation with Marie. “And what he’s doing is important. The wildfires are really bad this year.” The smoke has gotten so dense, the Chugach Mountains aren’t even visible from Anchorage right now.
“It is important,” Simon agrees. “But so is acknowledging your feelings and deciding how you want to deal with them.”
“I’m dealing with them by keeping myself busy and looking forward to things like my birthday.” A weekend away is exactly what Jonah and I need. “Besides, it’s only for a few more months.” And then he’s gone for three weeks to fly Jack Thomas’s rich hunters around. Quiet days are one thing. My stomach clenches with dread at all those nights alone, listening to every creak the house makes, my overactive imagination conjuring up what might be lurking outside.
I need to start looking at flights to Toronto.
There’s a long pause on the other end of the phone, so long that I begin to think the line has cut off.
“Simon?”
“I’m here, I’m here. I thought I heard your mother stirring.”
I smile at the thought of my stepfather scrambling to hide his guilty pleasure from her.
And realize how much I miss them both.
The front tire of our pickup rolls through a deep pothole in Roy’s laneway, jerking my body.
“Crap!” I scowl at the splash of foamed soy milk on my track pants. I was already annoyed about being up this early.
Why am I doing this to myself again?
Roy appears at the opening to the barn with a rake in his one good hand, his face looking as battered and ashen as it did yesterday.
Right, that’s why I’m doing this.
Oscar and Gus charge out of the barn, barking. But the moment I hop out of the truck, they calm, coming in close enough to catch a sniff of my leg before darting off again.
“What are you doin’ here?” Roy grumbles.
I trudge forward. “Do you like strawberries?”
His gaze drops to the bowl in my grasp, narrowing. “Maybe.”
I fight the urge to roll my eyes. “It’s a yes or no answer, Roy.”
The corner of his mouth twitches. “It’s been awhile but, yeah, I like ‘em. Who doesn’t?”
“I don’t, actually. And I have Colette’s entire patch growing in the garden. These are washed and hulled, ready to eat.” I hold out the bowl for him.
He stares at it another moment. Leaning the rake against the wall to free his one hand, he collects the bowl and sets it on a small table. Without so much as a thanks, I note. “You best be on your way, girl. I’ve got work to do.” With that, he turns and shuffles to the back of the barn, to the empty goat pen.
Arming myself with a deep breath and my conviction, I follow. “So, how often do you milk your goats?”
He glares at me. “Told you already, I don’t need your help.”
“Oh, I know. But we both know that Muriel is going to show up here one day soon to check on things, and if she finds out you’ve been sending me away, well … I guess you’ll have her here twice a day for the next month or two.”
Roy grunts. “That damn woman.”
“It’s her or me, but it’s going to be one of us, so take your pick.” I stared at our wooden ceiling for far too long last night, searching for today’s game plan on tackling Roy. The threat of Muriel seemed a guaranteed winner.
His sharp eyes drift over my red rubber boots. “Suit yourself. But don’t get in my way.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll just hang back here. And enjoy your charm from afar.” I take a long, leisurely sip of my latte, in part to hide any trace of apprehension that may show on my face.
Heavy sarcasm will go one of two ways with Roy—very badly or very well. I’m hoping on the latter, given he admitted to being “a real SOB.”
The corners of his mouth twitch before he turns his back to me. “You must be real bored over there.”
I allow myself a small smile of victory.
“Okay, okay …” I unwind the wire that secures the latch to the animal pen. Zeke was kicking excitedly at the fence post when I rounded the corner, and Bandit had climbed up the chicken coop’s enclosure to sit on top of the roof. “Sorry I’m late. I was over at our friendly neighbor’s house.” Following Roy as he muttered and cursed and refused to let me even fill up a water bucket, all while grimacing in pain.
I prop open the gate with a brick, and Zeke immediately trots over to nip at the bear bell on my shoe. Bandit scurries closely after. With them free to roam, I hop back onto my ATV and head for the garden, a goat and a raccoon trailing me, bear spray in my holster. I’m hypervigilant of the surrounding forest for movement, now that I know of this brown bear. Perhaps that’s why I spot Oscar right away, sitting at the tree line, watching from afar, as if he’s been waiting there awhile.