“Terrific,” Mia lied. “Thank you for looking after the boys. I hope they weren’t any trouble.”
“Not at all. I took them for a walk. I may have tired out Flynn; he’s not nearly as energetic as the young one.”
“Milo.”
After a pregnant pause, “Yes. Milo.”
She couldn’t make sense of why, but knowing that Sid had taken the dogs for a walk disturbed her, as if a line had been crossed. Maybe not a hard line. Fallen cedars, maybe. Attributing it to her injuries, she accepted that nothing felt quite under her control at the moment. She noticed Isabel and Duncan exchange looks as if sensing the awkward tension, but her head felt as if it was stuffed with cotton, and she couldn’t find words. She was relieved when Isabel filled in the silence.
“I let Beth know about your accident. She and Owen are in Edmonton buying equipment and won’t be back until tomorrow, but Beth promises she will come over as soon as they’re back.” Isabel paused and moved an errant strand of hair behind Mia’s ear. “She said to give you a hug, but I’ll give you a rain check for that.”
A hug would improve her spirits, but with the rails of the chair against her back putting more than enough pressure on her tender frame, Mia would take that check. She winced and leaned forward to give her ribs some relief, causing her to moan.
Sid looked away, poured herself a cup of coffee, and joined them at the table. As she did, the vibration of a cell phone sounded from her pocket. She glanced at the screen briefly and returned it to her jeans. She had to have been aware of the curious looks from around the table, but she sat quietly. Mia imagined she was staring at the cream swirling in her mug.
At last, Duncan broke the uncomfortable silence. “Have you given any more thought to coming to my party, Mia?”
“Yes,” added Isabel before she could respond. “You’ll be able to come now, right, Mia? Clearly, Milo needs more training, and since you’ll be recuperating for a bit, you’ll still be here. I’m planning to make pozole rojo and beef barbacoa.”
“I have no idea what either of those things are, but if they’re even nearly as good as your tortillas, count me in.” Mia glanced toward Sid, whose eyes briefly held hers and darkened further.
Grumpy is right.
Mia ignored moody Sid. She turned her mind to happier things and directed her words to Isabel. “My mother was Métis, and I always found it interesting how cultures have so much in common, especially in terms of bread. She taught me to make bannock, but tortillas, crepes, West Indian roti, and even Asian steam buns…they’re all so different yet tied to a similar tradition, don’t you think?”
* * *
Sid loved food and would have been quite content to listen in on Mia and Isabel’s culinary discussion. She’d found it most curious when Mia mentioned having Métis heritage. With acute awareness of her own cultural ignorance, she wondered how Mia’s blond hair and blue eyes could have come about. Adoption, perhaps?
When Sid’s butt vibrated for the third time in as many minutes, she excused herself from the table and moved into the living room. A crisis at the gallery had been put on her radar, and she was hoping that the situation—which had the potential to ravage her business with the devastation of a windblown prairie fire—had been contained. Only time would tell, and while she knew this, she also realized it tested what little patience she possessed. Her phone buzzed again. Patience failed. She had to look. Food and blond hair would have to wait.
Ella texted, It might be too late.
Not possible, Sid replied.
He should have known better.
I suspect he did. Text me when you know for sure. Check Europe?
Sid didn’t wait for her capable colleague’s response. Instead, she sat down in an armchair and put her phone facedown on the ottoman. She adjusted it so that its edges lined up perfectly square with the cushioned surface. For the first time in her career, and only the second time in her life, she felt helpless. She pushed deeper into the chair, gripping the armrests, and closed her eyes. It was as though a line of dominos was falling. Her dad’s injury, stolen cattle, a crazed bull, and now this…how should she put it? Fraud? Collusion? Deceit? Seen in perspective, was this dilemma any more destructive than any of these others? Not really. And with any luck, she thought with a glimmer of hope, perhaps the latest teetering tile would not fall.
“You okay, hon?” Duncan asked when she ambled back into the kitchen.
“Yep, fine,” Sid lied, tucking a piece of hair that had separated from the ponytail behind her ear. “Okay to join you? Or are you wrapping up?” She looked at the bandage beneath Mia’s tee and flashed a smile. “No pun intended.”
Mia smiled, and Isabel pulled out the chair next to her. “Please sit. Your dad has to go to physio this morning, so we’ll be leaving shortly. Excuse us, Mia. Let’s see how that hand does for the morning as is. I think the air might do it a world of good, but take care not to get it wet or dirty, okay?”
“Yes, thanks.”
As Duncan and Isabel exited, Sid took the seat across from Mia and put her phone on the table. She looked at Mia’s hand and was aghast at the blisters that had formed across the palm where Bullwinkle’s nose ring left its mark.
“So, your girlfriend has gone home?”
Sid watched a crease form between eyes that appeared much less vibrant than the day the two met. Given the medication and the residual shock of yesterday’s battle, Sid was not terribly surprised.
Damn Bullwinkle.
“Oh, Leah. Yes, well, yes and no. She’s off to Calgary for the week, then headed back to Vancouver.”
“Is it difficult to make a long-distance relationship work?” A vibration from her phone punctuated her query, but she resisted. Ella could not know this fast. European markets haven’t closed yet.
“We manage. Against all odds, really, given how opposite we are in so many respects.”
She was pleased to see what she thought was a glint in Mia’s eyes and wondered if there was some coyness in the response. Before she could sort out how she felt about it, her phone vibrated again. She again resisted.
“Leah travels a lot. And her husband is patient,” Mia explained, matter-of-factly.
Husband?
Vibration.
What?
“Husband?” she managed.
“Yes. Leah’s husband. Do you need to take that?” Mia smiled, gesturing toward the phone that was vibrating toward the table’s edge.
“No. Not yet.” Sid knew that depending on what Ella had to report, her plans for the day could take a major detour. And there was no way her colleague would know how hot this fire was burning for another hour at least, when Pacific markets opened. Until then, Sid knew to keep from reacting. She moved the phone and put the sugar bowl on top of it. Better to deal with the fire that was smouldering in the kitchen.
“So, Leah is married?” She had to work at it, but she managed to keep from babbling.
“Yes, happily. Leah is Beth’s daughter, you know. We grew up together, and she is my girlfriend, but not my girlfriend girlfriend.” Mia went on to tell the story of how, as teens, they were both Charlie’s Angels fans.
“Embarrassingly, we were megafans. Leah loved them for their fashion choices. I had other ideas…”
Sid was quick to pick up the code. Declaring without declaring.
Mia went on to talk about their parents’ tragic accident on the mountainous Coquihalla Highway and how that had sealed the friendship deal. Sid found it remarkable that Mia could open up so easily to someone who was still a complete stranger, but maybe that was a comment on her own wary nature more than it was an informed opinion on the state of Mia’s grief. Sid still found it hard to open up the box that contained all of the emotions she felt around her own mother’s death. As Mia continued, her words began to slur, and Sid recognized the cumulative result of fatigue and pain medications.
“Mia-Leah. That’s what they called us growin’ up. There was no end of teasing because
of our rhymin’ names, and I’m sure many people thought there was more going on than friendship. Mia-Leah. Gettin’ back to your question, though, we do live far apart now, but I’m inchin’ closer with every dog. Mia-Leah.” She repeated the rhyme, eyes cast downward. Sid noticed her smile turn oddly sad. “We don’t see each other often,” Mia continued, staring at her injured hand, “’cep when Riley got sick. Then, Leah was like a Band-Aid. I couldn’t peel her off.”
“Riley?”
The phone shook the sugar bowl.
“She was my wife. We were married nearly ten years. Cancer took her almost two years ago.”
Sid was rocked. Her mother. And her wife. And the girl was still on her feet. No wonder she didn’t let go of that ring. So much loss. She simply couldn’t.
“I’m so sorry.” Sid reached across the table, past the vibrating sugar, and put her hand gently on top of Mia’s uninjured one. “And I’m sorry for saying ‘I’m sorry.’ I hated it when people said that to me. Well, not hated, exactly. After all, people often don’t know what to say, and something is better than silence. Most days.”
Sid absently caressed the back of Mia’s hand, lost in her own memories of when she was a child and her mom was sick. It wasn’t until the sugar bowl tipped off the edge of the phone that Sid was back in the kitchen. She looked at her fingers on Mia’s and pulled them away, chastising herself for invading someone else’s personal space.
“I’m sorry…”
“No need to…” Mia’s hand was warm where Sid had touched it.
Duncan and Isabel returned, and the moment was gone. Sid grabbed her phone and pushed back from the table.
* * *
While Isabel pulled her chair next to Mia and opened a small green squeeze bottle, Duncan headed for the truck.
“Aloe vera. It will feel weird at first, but it will help.” Taking Mia’s hand, she spread the green gel along the line of the welt. The aloe began to tingle, and Mia could feel it cooling the heat of the wound. Isabel poured a tall glass of water before returning to the table, opening up Mia’s medicine bottle, and pouring two capsules into her hand.
“I’m going to put these on the table beside the recliner in the sunporch. It will be a nice change from your bedroom. There’s even an automatic control for it so you won’t have to strain to get comfortable. Are you okay to make it there?”
“No prob’m,” Mia slurred. She was tired, and the cotton in her head had turned to parade cymbals. As much as she’d love to continue talking with Sid, she knew she needed sleep if only to silence the clanging.
Isabel touched Mia’s cheek. “We’ll be back from town in a few hours. Sid, maybe you can get Mia’s phone and put it on the side table as well? I think it’s on the dresser in the guest room. Mia, text if you need anything.”
“I’ll get it now.” Sid, who’d been hovering and texting nearby, disappeared down the hallway.
The sunporch wrapped around three sides of the house, but the recliner was conveniently located on the same side as the kitchen, so Mia didn’t have far to go. Nonetheless, by the time she made it to the chair, her phone was already on the table beside the water and pills. Through the large windows, she could see Sid in the courtyard, standing in the dust left by Duncan’s pickup. She was pacing, phone against her ear, gesturing in a way that suggested she was irritated? Angry? Passionate, at least.
Her girlfriend, perhaps?
Mia knew Aurora St. Germaine. At least, she knew of her. Her celebrity status as an artist was surpassed only by her legendary reputation as a woman’s woman. She was infinitely creative, pushing the envelope in her mediums, mixing oils and welding works with chaotic but thought-provoking results. Mia had even seen her lead a performance art piece a couple of years back involving reimaginations of an AR-15 semiautomatic assault rifle in protest of school shootings. Her waist-length ebony hair was curly, and her eyes matched in intensity, like pools of black tar surrounded by eyelashes that went on forever. She was stunning. And to many, quite sexy. Mia imagined that Aurora and Sid would look amazing together. A lesbian power couple without question. And yet it was Mia’s hand that Sid had just touched with surprising tenderness.
She was just being kind. And you’re on drugs.
Maybe, but Mia still possessed the presence of mind to know that Sid’s questions about Leah were of the fishing kind. And that perhaps, if the damn cell phone hadn’t constantly sounded, she might have been quicker to set the record straight regarding her relationship with Leah. Quite literally, straight. But since she imagined it was Aurora on the phone, she’d impulsively decided to let Sid’s fishing hook hang that little bit longer. With just one touch, though, Mia regretted playing games with her.
You need to nip this whole thing in the bud.
Mia drifted asleep—the dogs curled on the floor beneath her in a sunbeam—aware that now both of her hands were tingling.
Chapter Eleven
Mia spent all day sleeping very comfortably in the recliner on the porch, the oversized leather arms providing just the right amount of support for her ribs and enabling her to stay inclined enough that her head stopped spinning or at least slowed. The nausea abated. Isabel woke her only to persuade her to eat some soup and grilled cheese before she and Duncan escorted her to the guest bed. Propped up on a collection of pillows and dosed with adequate pain medication, she slept remarkably well through the night and woke up feeling good enough to make her own way to the kitchen for breakfast.
Watching and listening to Isabel and Duncan reminded Mia of how the best of relationships appeared so easy, like gentle waves on a beach, never revealing the powerful currents that lay beneath. She could see that the two were not only in love but that they flowed with each other, moving and talking and laughing harmoniously. Mia wondered how it was possible that Sid could not see how her dad and Isabel, even as they resisted overt displays of affection, were connected. Mia wondered, too, if she would ever know that kind of love again, but seeing their example bolstered her courage to stay open to the possibilities.
Beth returned from Edmonton and stopped by later that morning, rousing Mia from a post-pancakes snooze.
“I’m going to run you into town tomorrow to see my doctor. No point arguing, little girl; she’s already made room in her schedule for you. Tomorrow afternoon.”
“I suppose I should have these ribs looked at. Everything else is coming along.”
“Glad to hear it because, Mia, I love you…but you stink. I’m going to help you shower today.”
“No point arguing?” She hadn’t had the energy to think about personal hygiene, let alone do much about it aside from a sink shower. It was time. She was ripe.
An hour and a half later, Mia felt like a million bucks. A very tired million bucks but nonetheless… Beth had worked as if by magic to soap and rinse and blow-dry everything in need. In between the careful removal and rewrapping of the tensor bandaging around her ribs, Mia caught sight of the two angry purple red and blue bands—unsurprisingly the same dimension as the pen’s iron rails—running diagonally across her torso from her lower back to the base of her right breast. The X-rays had shown a hairline crack in one rib, but seeing the damage with her own eyes, Mia couldn’t help but wonder how she’d escaped with just that. Beth must’ve been reading her mind.
“Seems that Sid’s actions did more to apologize for her terrible first impression than words could. I hope you accepted?”
“What do you mean?” Mia felt herself off balance even at the mention of Sid’s name.
“You don’t remember, do you, sweetie?” Beth shook her head. “The way Aaron tells it, Sid prevented you from suffering a worse fate. She pulled you straight out from under that bull just as he was lifting a leg to stomp you.”
Mia was speechless. She had snapshots of the incident and a recollection that Sid was there and had helped her to the truck. She remembered arms under her, around her. Saws and spears and the smell of hay and manure. Her adrenaline had been pumping, and
things were moving so quickly, but at the same time, so slowly. It was a jumble, and her current meds did nothing to fine-tune her thoughts about that day.
“I’ll make sure we ask the doctor about that head injury. I’m not convinced you weren’t concussed. You struck that bottom bar so hard that Aaron said he could hear it from the stadium door. Can’t believe it didn’t knock you out cold, little girl.”
“Takes more than that, I suppose.” Mia shrugged off the could-have-beens and considered instead what Beth had said about her rescue. Sid saved her?
Hold on, Mia.
She might not have passed out during the melee, but there were plenty of parts that weren’t very clear. Like slides, the images popped up through a fuzzy fog: the crush and crack of her ribs, the grip on the ring slipping, the mud sliding beneath her, arms pulling, holding. Vanilla. A voice spoken through a fog.
Hold on. I gotcha.
If Sid had saved her, then why hadn’t she said something about it? Was she so disinterested in Mia’s well-being that her actions weren’t worthy of mention? Was she more interested in rescuing Mia or calming her precious new bull? Or did she want Mia to be beholden to her for some reason? Mia knew she’d fallen down a rabbit hole and tried to quell her suspicions, but it was too late. She could already sense the whale-sized headache floating behind her eyes, attracted by thoughts of Sid that swam through her mind like a school of frenzied baitfish.
Beth didn’t stay long. Even though Mia felt fresher than she had in days, the shower had taken a bundle of energy, the headache was breaching, and once lunch was finished, so was Mia. Before leaving, Beth tucked her into bed, and the dogs curled on the floor beside her. Flynn usually slept at her feet, but maybe he knew they were guests and needed to show more respect. Milo was happy for his company and pawed Flynn playfully until he found a comfortable position.
By the time hunger roused Mia, the headache had mercifully subsided. The kitchen was dark, and the microwave showed it was just shy of midnight. Near a small nightlight under the counter was a note: Dinner in fridge. Wake me if you need anything. Isabel.
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