Once Jack left, Mia spent the rest of the morning doing stretches the doctor had shown her the afternoon before. Her gauze had been replaced by a wide tensor, and she was instructed to keep it on for the next week but to remove it while stretching and icing. The hand was healing well, the angry red-blistered line now a paler, purply-pink streak. Mia’s head was a different story.
“It is likely you were concussed,” the doctor had explained. “The scalp wound is abating, but given that you’re still having headaches, you’ll need to be honest about any symptoms you might experience. Dizziness. Nausea. That kind of thing.”
Promising to return if she experienced any of these effects, Mia convinced Beth that she’d be fine on her own and was looking forward to getting back into a routine with the dogs.
Mia was delighted to be back at the trailer, her home on wheels for the past year and a half. The twenty-five-foot Serenity Airstream was comfortable for four people but indulgently spacious for Mia and her dogs. Her pickup easily towed it, and setup was easy. It was self-contained with a mounted gas generator and water tanks. She owned it outright, financing her life on the road with the sale of the Toronto house she and Riley shared, with plenty left in the bank “just in case.” So far, her training business had a solid client base, and she hadn’t touched her savings. Whenever she reflected on her financial comfort, she remembered something her Granny K once told her about fortune: “A person who finds themselves alone with a bag of money will only be aware of the loneliness.” True enough.
Once her stretches were done, Mia took off her shirt and lay in a cushioned lounge chair with a bag of frozen peas propped under her side. She was still unable to put on a bra but was especially thrilled to be topless because the cold felt good against her bare skin. Never one to be shy about her body, camping gave Mia the opportunity to enjoy the kind of privacy she relished. She chose her locations accordingly and felt unencumbered knowing that the dogs would alert her if anyone came within earshot.
She wouldn’t let herself nap, as tired as she felt after what seemed like a full workout but was simply taking a shirt off. She had committed to getting her sleep schedule back on track. Instead, she began making lists of what the next few days would involve. After lunch, she’d take the boys for a short hike and maybe find the lake Aaron mentioned. And text Beth to ask for a ride out to Jack’s tomorrow and head to the co-op for some grocery items. Tonight, prop open the cooler so the meat will thaw for tomorrow. Tomorrow, train with Milo. And dinner with Sid.
If she shows. And if she doesn’t, that’s okay, too.
The forecast was good for the next few days, so a fireside dinner would be nice. And safe. Mia wasn’t sure she trusted herself with Sid in close quarters. It was clear to her that regardless of her self-respect—and her albeit begrudging respect of Aurora—Sid had become an object of her fantasies. She thought about the sensuous but powerful physique and unexpectedly tender touch. She imagined those eyes staring into hers, how soft her lips would be, how sweet. As long as they stayed fantasies, what was the harm? It had been a long time, and she was ready to feel love, sensual, sexual love, again. She would need to stay on guard in order to prevent herself from feeling all of that with a woman she couldn’t claim.
Mia tackled the list, first texting Beth, who explained that she was “heading into the co-op tomorrow anyway,” though Mia suspected she was making a special accommodation. She would pick Mia up at eleven, promising “a nice lunch in town.” Once the semi-thawed peas were back in the freezer, and her side had temporarily numbed, Mia realized how warm the day had become. There was little breeze, and within minutes, the initially loose tank top she’d managed to pull on post-pea-pack was already feeling sticky against her skin and the tensor bandage beneath uncomfortably moist.
“Come on, boys. Let’s go find that lake Aaron mentioned.”
The walk up the step was just what Mia needed, and she permitted herself to go at a slower pace than her usual march. Her head felt clear, and her legs were marginally weak but seemed as happy to be challenged as Milo was. He took lead, sniffing and marking the trail past the fence opening Duncan had created. Mia kept him close as they came through the pines, and with no cattle within eyeshot, she gave him rein again. Flynn stayed close, keeping up unenthusiastically as they walked along the clear water of the creek. The cut rock on the mountainside was spectacular, forming a half canyon of layered stone and iron-tinged ledges. Small springs flowed into it from the higher elevations, and Mia wondered if they were drinkable. They certainly looked clean, but better to check before risking a dose of waterborne “beaver fever.”
As the creek began to bend around a low rise on her left, Milo’s ears perked, and his pace slowed. “Milo. Stand.”
He lay down, his ears still set on whatever he was hearing. Slowly, Mia made her way up the rise, staying behind a cover of trees in case a predator—a cougar or bear—was the object of Milo’s alert. Stepping behind the last tree in the stand, she was relieved to discover not only the lake that Aaron had described but the very opposite of a predator. Sid Harris stood chest deep in the water along the near shore, her back to Mia.
Her hair was pulled into a tight bun that rested just above her long neck. She wore a black, racer-back swimsuit, and as she lifted out of the water, her graceful body arching into a shallow dive, Mia held her breath. Sid’s arms drove powerfully into the glassy surface of the water, her strokes economical and her front crawl speed impressive. Barely a splash pushed up from the legs that propelled her across the lake, and before long, she had cleared the halfway point of the thousand-yard lake, headed toward a small red canoe on the far shore with no sign of slowing.
So, this is her element.
Mia wondered if Sid’s work provided her with this same opportunity for control and if that was how she had managed so prestigious a position at a relatively young age. As she watched, she grew aware of her own responses to Sid’s performance. Emotionally, she felt a deep, longing desire to watch as Sid powered through her workout and wondered if Sid chose the solitude or if she was imprisoned by it. The way she attacked the water was competent, but she emitted an energy that reminded Mia of a boxer pummeling a hanging bag.
Mia’s physical response was equally curious. Her mouth had become dry, and her breasts swelled against the clinging tank top, nipples pushing against the sweaty cotton. A pulsing sense of warmth began to spread between her legs, and she squeezed her thighs to intensify the pressure. Clearly, something about the intense energy Sid possessed was having an unexpected but very welcome effect.
A soft whine and a nose nudge from Flynn pulled her out of her reverie.
“What’s the matter, boy?” Mia bent, and a single spear reminded her that her ribs were not quite ready for such spontaneous movement. “Okay, time to head back.” Flynn wasn’t the only one who’d reached his limit.
Taking one more look at the lone but capable Sid, Mia turned from the lake and put her right hand in her pocket to stabilize her core as she stepped down the rise and back toward the trail. As she uncurled her fingers, which she’d clenched to protect the palm wound as she slipped it into the jeans, the tips touched a small, smooth, familiar object. She pinched it carefully and pulled it out as she walked. The shiny dime glistened in the sun.
Mia could conceive of no explanation for the find. These jeans hadn’t been worn since Isabel had returned them, laundered and folded. As a habit to protect the dogs, she avoided putting coins in her pockets where she kept the reward treats. There was no obvious or logical explanation for this or any of the forty or so dimes she’d found over the years since Riley passed.
When she found the first few, she didn’t even know about the odd phenomenon, proof—some believed—that the departed were still with us. It wasn’t until she found more than a dozen under equally inexplicable circumstances that she mentioned it to Beth and learned about the superstition. Mia didn’t buy in wholeheartedly, but she did admit that the sudden appearance of dimes—no
t nickels or quarters or pennies, just always and only dimes—was unusual, and that if it was Riley sending her a sign, well, it wasn’t unwelcome. She kept every one in the box that held their wedding rings.
Mia smiled wistfully but with gratitude, then palmed the coin and put it back in her pocket, letting Milo lead her and Flynn home.
Chapter Fifteen
Mia was curled up on the day bed in her trailer when her phone rang. Leah. “So, how are the ribs? And everything else?”
“Better than when I last texted. Honestly, the first few days after it happened are a fog.” Except for certain very distinct images centered primarily on a specific Harris.
“Yeah, I figured that from the insane number of typos in your texts. Mom kept me in the loop on your recovery since.”
“Are you home? How’s Jim?”
“No, I’m still in Calgary. Discoveries started yesterday. Jim’s results aren’t in yet. But that’s not why I’m calling. You’ll never guess who I ran into on Saturday night at the Emily Carr exhibit.”
“Spill!”
“None other than Aurora St. Germaine.”
Wonderful. Mia felt her gut clench.
“Mia?”
“Yes, I’m here.” Mia realized her voice was tinged with something akin to envy.
“Guess what?”
“I couldn’t possibly.” She didn’t like this game.
“She was there with another woman. A professor from some Ivy League school. Anyway, not with Sid. Cassidy. Whatever. And by with, I mean with. Like, all kissy face. So, unless they have an open relationship, it seems that she and Cassidy Harris are no longer the art world’s foremost Sapphic power couple.”
Sid and Aurora could very well have an open relationship but she didn’t think the choice fit with what she’d observed of Sid. Mia’s reaction was mixed. A breakup could explain a few of the dips and crests in the roller coaster of anxiety Sid appeared to be riding. If the two had split, even if the decision was mutual and conciliatory, breakups were difficult. So at the same time as she felt genuine concern for Sid’s well-being, the fact that the news sent her pulse racing meant her intense concern wasn’t entirely about empathy. Sid’s relationship status meant more to her than she was comfortable with. And she wasn’t about to admit that to Leah, who had enough distractions at the moment.
Not quite yet. Stay on the path.
“Mia, did you hear me?”
“Yes, yes, of course. Well that’s too bad for them. How was the exhibit otherwise?”
Leah went on to talk about which of Carr’s canvases had been shown and who of the art literati had attended. While they chatted, Flynn managed to pull himself onto the couch and laid his head on Mia’s lap. As she stroked him, she noticed that his coat wasn’t as satiny as usual.
“So, what date works for you?”
“Sorry?” Mia’s voice came from far away, where worries float.
“Tourtière date. November twelfth sound good?”
In spite of her crazy workaholic schedule, Leah always made room for the annual baking of the Christmas meat pies. It was a tradition the two had carried since their twenties, the family recipe a treasured one from Mia’s mom. Depending on who was around during the holidays, they’d spend a day baking anywhere from five to twenty-five pies, with a few bottles of wine to fuel the fun.
“Are you okay, Mia?”
“Yes. No. It’s Flynn. I think I need to take him to the vet. His energy has shifted.” Mia’s throat constricted, and she felt tears beginning. Maybe the weepiness has something to do with the concussion. Or maybe it was because the thought of Flynn being sick was too difficult to imagine.
“Sometimes, I think that Flynn is all that’s left of me and Riley.” Mia forced the words out, tears now falling onto the phone screen. Leah was the only person to whom Mia would ever have the courage, the trust, to disclose what she just had.
“I get it. You and Riley adopted Flynn together, so of course there’s a special connection. Try not to imagine the worst, I believe, is what a good friend told me recently. Admittedly, though, I’m not beyond holding my own pity parties lately.”
Mia knew the fear Leah was feeling. Cancer was like a monster under the bed, the mere thought that it might be lurking there as terrifying as if it really was. And as much as Mia felt that the situation with Flynn was a trigger for things deeper, feelings she had been working through as she grieved, she realized she needed to be present for her friend. She thought about the dime in her pocket.
“I have a really strong feeling that things are going to be fine. November twelfth works for me. I’ll come to Vancouver if I’m not there already with a new client.”
Mia was surprised to hear herself verbalizing the next step in her travels. Yes, she’d started in Toronto, and the jobs she had accepted over the past years were leading her gradually westward. But she realized that how far she would go in her journey was still to be determined. The words of an American philosopher, David Bader, came to mind as she pulled herself off the couch: “Be here now. Be somewhere else later. Is that so complicated?”
Chapter Sixteen
Sid loved sitting at the kitchen table at twilight, watching the shadow of the mountains creep across the barnyard toward the Harris house. It was one of the rare times she forgot about all there was to do and allowed herself to feel a thorough sense of accomplishment for what had been done. She and her dad were enjoying a beer while Isabel stacked the dinner dishes beside the sink, a tea towel draped over her shoulder.
“Your father can’t retire. He’s annoying me already with this shoulder hiatus, and I’m sure I’d have to kill him if he were underfoot all the time.” Isabel laughed.
“I don’t know how you bear it; you’re obviously a saint. I’m just saying that if he is considering selling, he’s financially ready. In spite of the recent losses.”
“I don’t want to sell,” Duncan said. “I only brought up the subject of succession because you’re here, and well, I was wondering more what you might be thinking.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “I know you love what you do, Cassidy Lynn, but I also know you love this place.”
No question Sid loved the land. But it took her until this recent visit to realize that the memories of her mother’s death—visions of the strong woman slowly and visibly destroyed by the cancer, unwilling to leave home for a hospital, knowing that the disease would find her no matter where she was—the awful memories that the young Sid had run to the city to escape, were being slowly replaced by reminders of her mom’s life. Beautiful, wonderful reminders. Like the lake they both loved to swim in. The sunny porch where she’d enjoy her morning coffee while Sid talked about 4-H club events or learning to drive a tractor or how dumb the boys—and one particular girl—in her class were. Their weekly horseback ride along the step. Walking along the creek looking for gold. Sid’s mom, her mom, the mom before the cancer came, was still right here.
“How about you give some thought to what you’d do with that ten-acre spot up on the step?”
“The lake?” Sid’s voice broke, and she stared at her dad in disbelief until her vision blurred with tears.
Sid wiped her eyes as Isabel joined them, sliding a tissue box across the table. “What I would do with it? Why? Are you okay, Dad? You’re not sick, are you?”
“Gosh no! It’s just that, well, I’m…” Duncan started and then put his hand on Isabel’s. “We’re not leaving here, and you’re certainly not going to live with us. We enjoy our empty nest, don’t we, Isabel? Even Aaron has his own place, though I doubt he’s there much. I think that boy is settling down. In fact, he won’t say it, but I think he’s back with the McCann boy. Glad of that. He’s a nice young man.”
Sid laughed with relief and then rolled her eyes. “Subtle, Dad.” This wasn’t the first time her father had given her an opportunity to come out to him by demonstrating how comfortable he was with her cousin’s identity. But Sid had made up her mind a long time ago that until
there was someone she felt strongly enough about to bring to the homestead, there was no reason to make it a topic of discussion. Sometimes, she felt that there might never be a reason.
“There’s plenty of good land up there, and we can leverage a few things to get a house built. Maybe with someone special?”
Sid wasn’t sure whom he was imagining. Given the amount of press coverage she had been given through gallery events, there was a chance that he had seen photos of her and Aurora together. Or heard rumours. But with her track record in the relationship department, a partnership wasn’t on her radar, and she wondered briefly why it was on his. Of course, it has to be Mia. Sid could pretend that she wasn’t looking forward to the dinner, but she felt unnerved. And unnerved wasn’t ideal; if the cattle losses didn’t end, there wouldn’t be much left to “leverage,” and she owed it to her dad, to her family, to stay focussed. Nonetheless, his offer of the parcel of land stirred a feeling of gratitude mixed with a curious sense of relief and hope. She hadn’t experienced even one of those emotions in a while, and she wasn’t about to let any of it be stolen out from under her. Focus, Sid.
“Isabel, how do you put up with Mr. Romantic here?” Sid laughed.
Isabel shrugged before trying to wrap her arms around Duncan’s neck. When he recoiled, she swiped at him playfully with the tea towel.
“Don’t pretend your shoulder still hurts, mi amor. I know you’re better.” She hugged him from behind and patted his chest with the palm of her hand, draping the tea towel over his shoulder. “The dishes are waiting for you.”
Later that evening, Aaron showed up, and they settled in for a game of Texas hold ’em, but before the stakes hit the table, Sid’s phone began to vibrate. She checked the number and excused herself from the table.
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