Where We Are

by Annie McDonald

  “Good morning. Or should I say afternoon?” Duncan’s jovial voice boomed across the room, and Mia almost jumped out of her slippers.

  “It’s afternoon.” Mia was embarrassed at her poor showing of houseguest manners. “I’m so sorry about disrupting your schedule. It’s not like me…I’m usually a morning person.”

  “Well, you’re not your usual self. How are you feeling today?” Duncan propped himself on the window ledge facing Mia and blocking her view of Sid.

  Mia took a moment of inventory, lifting her right arm so that it came out from her side and stretching it forward, palm up. She worked to keep from grimacing but was pleased that she didn’t have to work too hard.

  “I’d have to say I’m much better. Tired but better.” Mia smiled with sincere relief.

  “And where’s your other pal?” Duncan said, rubbing Milo’s ears; his tail wagged in response with enough energy to almost knock the tea from Mia’s hand.

  Mia answered. “He decided to stay in the bedroom this morning. I think Milo’s energy is too much for him to handle.” Mia reflected on the past week or so and noted that Flynn had been spending much more time on his own than usual. “Maybe he misses his own bed. Speaking of which, I wonder if it wouldn’t be too much trouble for someone to help me move back to my trailer. I have really loved the company, but there’s nothing like a night in one’s own bed.”

  “That’s no trouble at all, provided you really feel up to it. You know Isabel will put up a fight, but I’ll defend your decision. I think she likes tending to the wounded.” Duncan took his arm out of his sling and moved it freely but slowly. Mia’s eyes widened as she realized that his range of motion was close to normal.

  He winked. “I’m probably going to have to come clean at some point.”

  * * *

  Sid had just finished moving Bullwinkle into his official barn stall with the help of Aaron when her phone buzzed and E.D. popped up on her screen. She stepped out into fresher air and plunked down on the nearest hay bale.

  “Hi, Ella. What’s the news?”

  “Good morning, Cassidy.”

  “God, that sounds way too formal. I know this is serious business, but can we please stick with Sid?”

  As a way of honouring her mom, whose surname was her given, Sid stuck with Cassidy with most clients but within the team, family and friends, it was Sid.

  “Right. Sorry. It is serious, Sid.”

  Sid could hear Ella take a deep breath, and she braced herself.

  “Jason set up the deal. It went through.”

  “Are you sure?” Sid knew she was.

  “Yes. And at a record price, so the markets responded accordingly. As soon as the last of Europe’s numbers trickled in, I called him into my office. He admitted that he approached the seller. But he denied knowing about our policy regarding first refusal, let alone about the canvas and Mr. Stephens’s interest in it.”

  “I’ll just bet,” Sid replied, her gut turning.

  “He said the buyer’s broker was aggressive, and he thought that by cutting out the gallery he was doing a good thing for the seller.”

  “My ass. Jason knew what he was doing. The boy’s not that wet behind the ears, for God’s sake. Hard to imagine this wasn’t his intent when he applied. And I hired him.”

  Sid bit down on her sense of shame, trying to keep things in perspective. But she felt overwhelmed by the magnitude of the consequences that were likely to come her way as a result of the situation, and it was difficult in the moment to resist self-flagellation.

  “We hired him, Sid. And we had no way of knowing. References all checked out. I agree, there’s no way this was an innocent mistake. You should’ve seen his face when I asked him to explain why he violated procedure by cutting the gallery out. I suggest he be terminated immediately. I can start the paperwork.” Sid knew Ella long enough to know a recommendation to fire someone, in spite of how justified, was difficult. She was soft-hearted, but with more experience, she would gain confidence. In this case, there was no question this course was the only option. Too bad the damage had already been done.

  “I’m sure he has a job to go to, so let’s not imagine he’s being left high and dry. Dollars to donuts, the purchaser’s agent made some promises, and Jason isn’t so naïve that he’d think we’d put ourselves at risk again and keep him on staff.”

  “Fair enough. I’m sorry, Sid. I assume you’ll want to let Mr. Stephens know?”

  “As soon as the sun is up in Tokyo. Anything else I need to know?” Sid wasn’t sure why she was asking.

  “Aurora asked when you’d be back.” Ella paused, no doubt expecting the reaction Sid was madly stifling. “I told her she’d have to ask you herself. I hope that’s okay?”

  The text. That must be why.

  “It’s fine. Thanks, Ella.”

  She ended the call and looked at the screen. There were now two text notifications from Aurora. Sid put the phone in her pocket. Seconds later she pulled it out and carried it into the kitchen.

  * * *

  Duncan and Mia were still laughing when Sid walked in. She acknowledged them only barely before pulling open the fridge.

  “There are sandwiches there, Sid,” Isabel’s voice called from the hallway. “Please eat something.”

  “I’m okay,” came the tired response, “but thank you.”

  Flynn trudged in behind Isabel. Mia’s good spirits changed abruptly when she saw him. He was clearly losing weight. He was oddly listless. Was she so drugged up she hadn’t noticed before now? Maybe, like her, he did just miss his own bed…but what if it was something else? Mia felt her throat starting to constrict with worry. She willed herself to relax.

  “Isabel, you have been an angel, honestly, but I really have to get back to training before Milo forgets what he’s learned. And I admit he hasn’t exactly retained his attention to command, as evidenced by yesterday’s incident. Was it yesterday? Two days ago?”

  “Three,” Duncan replied.

  “Mia, you’re still not well. I promised Beth I’d keep you here until you healed.”

  Mia put on her brave face and lifted her arm even higher than before. “See, my ribs are fine. And my hand.” To demonstrate, she wriggled her fingers and closed her palm. “And no headache today. Honest.” Almost honest.

  “The girl needs her own bed,” Duncan said as promised. His arm was back in its sling.

  Isabel took a few moments to examine Mia’s palm and then held her face in both hands, looking into her eyes, apparently assessing her pupils.

  “Okay, but you are still going to the doctor later today. I will text Beth to pick you up at your trailer. And I will pack you some food to take home with you.”

  “No point in arguing.”

  “Dad’s right,” Sid said, leaning against the kitchen counter, thumbs tap-texting on her phone. “I’ll drive you. Aaron is on his way back from town, and I’ve texted him to swing by and pick me up.” She held up her phone as if to prove it. “That way I can leave your truck at your trailer for when you’re able to drive.”

  Isabel jumped in. “No driving yet, little girl. Promise. Not until the doctor says you can.”

  “Yes, I promise. Thank you. Really.” She looked at Sid, who was back to her phone. “Everyone.”

  Sid’s only response was a barely audible grunt and a quick glance in Mia’s direction.

  Grey eyes. That’s trouble.

  Mia made her way to the guest room. With effort, she managed to dress in the clothes she had worn the day she wrestled with Bullwinkle. Whatever day that was. Isabel had kindly cleaned and folded them, placing them on the dresser. Mia gathered up the clothes she’d been wearing over the past few days and slid them into a borrowed duffel bag, committing to return it and the clothes once laundered. She lingered over the Tragically Hip T-shirt, which had retained its vanilla scent in spite of Mia’s recent hygiene challenges. She imagined it must be Sid’s. It smelled like her.

  She rejoined Isabel
and Sid in the kitchen just as Isabel was closing up a large straw picnic hamper.

  “Good Lord, Isabel, I’m one woman. How much do you think I can eat?”

  Isabel seemed about to defend herself when Duncan’s truck door slammed. She turned to the window in time to see him drive by, both hands on the wheel, arm free of the sling, smiling like the proverbial cat with canary.

  “Where on earth does that man think he’s going?”

  “He’s off to physio, Isabel.” Sid smiled conspiratorially. “The man is on a mission.” Then she stepped outside and out of reach before Isabel could react.

  “Watch out for these Scots, Mia.” Isabel shook her head. “Their stubborn self-reliance will drive you around the bend.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Mia insisted on carrying the small duffel bag to the truck, politely declining Sid’s offer to tote it along with the hamper. It felt good to be on her feet and outdoors, the sun on her face and the wind blowing through her hair, making it look like one of those inflatable wacky waving men at the tire dealership, she was sure. She could feel Sid’s eyes on her even as the dogs were harnessed in the back.

  “I heard you mention bannock the other day, and how your Mom was Métis. If you don’t mind my asking, given dominant gene theory, how does it come about that a Métis ends up with blond hair and blue eyes?”

  Mia smiled, certain that Sid could have phrased her query a bit more diplomatically. But her curiosity was earnest, and somehow, Sid disarmed her. She also sensed there was something much more important on Sid’s mind; maybe she preferred this topic of conversation to whatever might have transpired today with the art deal.

  “I don’t mind, and you’re not the first person to ask. If you’d ever met my parents, you’d really be wondering.” Mia attempted to pull herself into the cab but abandoned the effort and accepted Sid’s assistance.

  Sid gently lifted her onto the seat, and as she was helping situate her, Mia noticed how fit she was. Sid wore a sleeveless John Deere shirt, revealing her defined biceps and deltoids where they rounded the broad shoulders. Sid’s muscles molded like clay into a sculpted neck, the source of the vanilla scent on the T-shirt tucked away in the duffel bag. Mia hoped Sid wouldn’t notice that she took in as much of the fragrance as her ribs would allow. As Sid leaned over to insert the seat belt, her hair brushed Mia’s chest heavily enough to be noticed; her nipples reacted instantly to the touch. While Sid scooted around the front of the truck, Mia pulled her shirt forward so that it bunched rather than hugged her body, hoping to hide the involuntary response.

  Jesus, Mia, get a grip.

  “So neither of your folks were blue-eyed blonds?” Sid asked as she slid behind the wheel.

  Mia recalled her grandmother saying that distance didn’t separate people, silence did, and it was a lesson she took to heart. It made her happy that Sid was giving her an opportunity to share the story of her heritage. And it was a nice distraction from the occasional rib twinge as Sid slowly started down the driveway.

  “No. I am Métis, with a double dose of Scandinavian along the ancestral lines. Many greats ago, like, back in the 1750s or so, a small group of Finnish immigrants arrived near Winnipeg to join in the fur trade. On my mom’s side, an ancestor from a Manitoba Ojibwe tribe hooked up with one of those immigrants, a Fin named Keranen.”

  “Hooked up? Is that what the kids are saying?” Sid smiled as she pulled cautiously onto the road.

  “You know what I mean. Are you from a long line of mischievous brats? Or is this a case of nurture versus nature?”

  “You’ve met my dad…you tell me.” They both laughed, and Mia barely registered that even the slight rocking of the truck over the road’s occasional bumps challenged her core muscles.

  “Their descendants ended up, through marriage, on the Six Nations of the Grand River reserve in Southern Ontario. So, that’s my mom’s branch of the tree.” Mia looked at Sid to make sure she was still engaged. “My dad’s Canadian tree took root in the 1820s when a Finnish engineer named Jaarvi, escaping the famine, came to work on the Welland Canal. He met and married a Mohawk woman, my great-great-great grandmother, from Grand River. They started the paternal branch. Jaarvi morphed into Jarvis. My last name.”

  “So, eventually the Jarvis branch meets the Keranen branch…and they hook up?”

  “My parents become romantically involved,” Mia corrected, knowing full well that Sid was just stirring the pot.

  “Romance sounds much nicer.” Sid cast a look and another charming smile.

  “To make a long story short—or at least shorter—my parents are a uniquely Canadian blend of First Nations and Métis; Dad from the Jarvis line and Mom from the Keranen. You can imagine the surprise when the recessive Scandinavian genes claimed the throne, and I was born.”

  “You wear ‘recessive’ well,” Sid said before making the final turn onto the dirt road. Mia gripped the armrest in anticipation of a rocky ride.

  “I promise I’ll go slowly.” In spite of Sid’s best efforts, the road up to the camp proved excruciating. Mia tried to shut out the pain by focusing on her driver and what she’d like to do to Sid. With Sid.

  What Aurora does with Sid.

  Thoughts of Aurora checked her fantasies. She had never, and would never, get involved with anyone in a relationship. In spite of the attraction she might feel. She felt.

  “How did you manage to figure it all out?” Sid asked as the truck rolled up to the trailer.

  “It took me a bit of time to sort out all the branches, but I am my family’s arborist, and to be honest, I had fun doing the research. They didn’t have the ‘spit and mail-in’ DNA testing when I was born, but I did it as an adult. The indigenous community keeps pretty good records now, too, so that helped. Let me know when you’re bored…I see you looking at your phone!”

  Sid put the phone back on the armrest between them. Her mood had darkened.

  “Any news yet?” Mia asked.

  “Nothing good. Your family history sounds like it should be made into a movie. Mine pales in comparison. Literally.” She laughed and opened up the back doors to let the dogs out before coming around to Mia’s side. “How does a whole culture end up with no pigment at all? I swear, we Scots burn just thinking about the sun.”

  Mia watched as Sid busied herself, suspecting she was trying to avoid what must be eating her up inside. After helping Mia out of the truck, she insisted on carrying the duffel bag, the dogs’ supplies, and Isabel’s food hamper into the trailer and managed to accomplish all before Mia had walked the distance from the truck. Sid avoided talking about the situation at the gallery, and although curious, Mia didn’t want to push. She only hoped Sid would be able to manage the energy to keep it all contained.

  Maybe that late night on the sunporch was a one-time deal.

  “Will you be okay?” Sid asked. “Is there anything you need help with before I go?”

  “All good. Can’t keep a good woman down, as they say.” Much as I’d like you to try. “Beth will be by later to take me to the doctor. Jack McMann, Milo’s owner, is coming by tomorrow morning.” A flash of concern crossed Sid’s face. “It’s okay. I’m not doing a training session. He’s just dropping off some meat.”

  “Meat?” Sid helped Mia up the two stairs into the trailer but immediately stepped back outside.

  Mia didn’t like the distance. “I make the dogs’ food. From scratch. It’s not only more economical, especially if you have an organic cattle producer friend, but it’s better for the dogs. And they love it. I even have past clients who still order from me. I ship it frozen.”

  Aaron’s truck was approaching, and Sid began to back away from the trailer.

  “Since I’m cooking, how about dinner the night after tomorrow?” Mia said, thinking quickly of a way to see Sid again soon. “I’ll be up and around by then.”

  Sid tucked her hair behind her ear. Mia held her breath, which hurt. “Sure. Unless something blows up. I have a phone call to
make to Tokyo later this afternoon, and maybe by then, the news will be better.”

  Mia wanted to reach out and console her, but she was already turning to leave.

  Aaron waved from the cab as he pulled in and leaned out the window. He looked so handsome with the bright sunshine pulling the strawberry out of his blond hair. “How you doing, Mia?”

  “All good, thanks, Aaron.”

  Sid was already in his truck and buckled in, phone in hand. Mia could see she was anxious to get going. Aaron set the truck in gear and turned, careful not to excite the dogs, who were shamelessly campaigning for attention.

  “Flynn, Milo, come.” The two begrudgingly but obediently made their way into the trailer and snuggled into bed, an exhausted Mia seconds behind.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jack McCann showed up as promised in the morning with an oversized cooler full of frozen beef and chicken and two large bags of grain. He was kind enough to unload the raw materials into the tent on benches so that tomorrow, Mia would be able to access them without lifting too much. When she asked where in town she could buy butchered steaks, Jack insisted she come by his place tomorrow, and he’d have a special package for her.

  “No butcher is going to do better than the Alberta strips I have. Aged longer and grass fed. As close to Wagyu as you’ll find around here.”

  Mia knew better than to resist. Jack was generous and seemed to have become quite fond of her over the weeks. It helped that he wasn’t in a time crunch when it came to Milo.

  “So, I guess it’ll be a while before this fella is going to see a real cow again?” he asked.

  “In spite of what happened at the Harrises’, Milo’s behavior indicates he’s ready to work. He’s fearless and has amazing instincts, so all we…well, all I need to focus his training on at the moment is basic command response. Once he convinces me that he’s willing to listen, I’ll be more confident he’ll be safe with the herd. Give me another week, and he’ll be ready to start working with them and you.”