Where We Are

by Annie McDonald

  “Start without me. This may take a while. And Dad? Isabel? Thank you.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  First thing the next morning, Mia called the local veterinarian and was told that Dr. Vandeven was on site until the end of the week, visiting ranches in the area. This wasn’t unusual in a rural practice, particularly not toward the end of the summer when cows who birthed in the spring, as many traditionally did, were within the optimal insemination window. For ranchers who didn’t have bulls, the vet’s service was vital. The vet tech listened to Mia’s concerns and booked Flynn an appointment for Saturday morning.

  “If his condition worsens, call before bringing him in. Dr. Vandeven stops here in between site appointments to check up on any animals that have overnighted, and I’m sure she’d be able to work Flynn in if the problem escalates.”

  Mia let Milo out for a run while she had her coffee, and Flynn wolfed down his breakfast. Ten minutes later, as if he knew that a vet appointment was in his future, he nosed the door open and joined Milo in rounding up the morning shadows.

  You’re going anyway, old buddy.

  Beth would be coming by soon to pick her up for their trip to the McCanns’ and to pick up some supplies in nearby Hinton. While waiting, she spent the time reviewing commands with Milo. The few days he’d had off after the bull incident seemed to make a big difference in his ability to listen. Either that, or his run-in with Bullwinkle fired up his willingness to do whatever it took to be the boss in future meetings. Even Flynn sat watching them attentively, his wagging tail easing Mia’s mind about leaving him for part of the day.

  Once she and Beth finished picking up a specialized seed order from the supply store, they stopped to enjoy lunch at a little bistro in nearby Hinton. When the server filled their water glasses, Mia was prompted to ask about the springs.

  “Is the water drinkable as is?”

  “What a coincidence you’re asking. Some company called this week asking if they could do an environmental assessment on our bit of acreage on the step. Owen told them thanks but no thanks. He told me the water has been pristine forever, especially now that the mines are down; nothing is likely to change that in the near future.”

  Mia wondered why a company might be interested in testing water on land that wasn’t theirs unless they had plans for it but kept her imaginings to herself. Farmers and ranchers in this part of the province held proudly to their land, not because it was the most productive in terms of yield but because it was a treasured way of life. The farm industry, on the other hand, was comprised of inconceivably vast tracts of land pumped full of whatever it took to turn crops over as quickly as the super-seeds could sprout and ripen. Some of these tracts were still operated by families, but many were owned by seed and fertilizer manufacturing giants who hadn’t shown interest in areas like the foothills, nor were they likely to because the conditions and transportation infrastructure weren’t conducive to the profit levels they sought. Nonetheless, Mia put a mental bookmark in the subject and finished her lunch.

  Beth knew Jack McCann’s wife, Nancy, so when they arrived at his ranch to pick up the steaks, she headed to the house for a brief visit while Jack gave Mia a tour of his operation. He knew a great deal about the area and its history, so Mia took the bookmark out.

  “How far back do the properties along the step go?” she asked. “Surely not the whole of the mountains?”

  “Not the whole, no. Much of it is Crown land, so the National Parks manage it. But the upper acreage does stretch back well beyond the creek. If you need specifics, the land registry will know. Why? Are you thinking of buying a place out here?”

  “I’m not saying yes, and I’m not saying no.” she joked. Half joked. “But I was wondering about the springs up there.”

  “Heck yeah, the springs are great. Clean. A water company came to see me a few weeks back, asking if I would be willing to let them siphon off some of my own source water. Of course, they were willing to pay. I told them I didn’t need the headache. Enough trucks on the road as it is.”

  Jack loaded a carton of steaks into the trunk of Beth’s car, more than the number he’d promised Mia.

  “Owen loves a good piece of beef, so make sure he gets a couple of these,” Jack said, noting her surprise. He patted the large box with pride.

  “Will do. And I’ll see you Saturday. Make sure you review the list of commands I gave you. Milo’s not the only one I’ll be testing!”

  As she waited at the car for Beth to finish her good-byes, she pondered what Jack said about the water. His story about being offered money for spring water didn’t explain why the Harrises’ cattle were taken, but the puzzle pieces were definitely coming together.

  Chapter Eighteen

  For the rest of the afternoon, Mia set aside her curiosities regarding the water and cattle situation and focused on cooking. She started by brewing some chai tea and then setting some peeled and cored pears in it with a thick slice of ginger, several cardamom pods, and a cinnamon stick.

  While they simmered, she set a large iron cauldron on a tripod above the firepit and began to fill it with the meat Jack had given her the day before as well as some fresh milk and eggs—shell and all for added calcium—that she’d purchased at an insane discount from Beth. Given the quantities she’d required, Mia insisted on paying something for it.

  The meat contained a good amount of fat, so she didn’t need as much salmon oil as she typically used. Once the fire was stoked and the ingredients had started cooking, Mia added several cups of oats, some brown rice, carrots, peas, zucchini, and spinach. She worked extra cautiously moving and lifting in order to keep the spears from hurtling her way. The most difficult part was going to be removing the pot from over the fire, but she hoped Sid would help her when she arrived.

  The mere thought of cooking for Sid excited her. It was not an unwelcome emotion but definitely unexpected. She found herself looking forward to spending time getting to know Cassidy Harris—and Sid—much better. She wanted to see beneath the peculiarly distracted yet confident exterior, a strange combination she felt compelled to explore.

  If she’ll let me.

  Sid arrived on the ATV just as Mia finished stuffing the mushroom caps. To say she looked radiant would be an insult to light. Her hair was windblown and just barely held as a frame around her face by the aviator glasses she lifted above her forehead. Skinny denim jeans hugged her hips, and her muscled thighs and calves were tucked into a pair of honest-to-goodness Alberta Boot Company square-toed western work boots. Mia owned a pair of ABCs and recognized the brand, but her own boots were more for show than for go.

  Sid’s jeans were cinched with a leather belt fronted by a silver roper-style buckle with turquoise inlay. Finally, as if Mia wasn’t already feeling woefully underdressed in a simple cotton blouse and paisley skirt, Sid sported a sage-colored sleeveless, collared linen shirt, tucked half in, half out. Mia smiled, thinking that this was perfectly in character with the woman whose range of emotion had, in the short time she’d known her, run the gamut. The outfit was a perfectly executed yet curious coupling of elegance and work ethic. Mia’s heart fluttered unexpectedly; she couldn’t take her eyes away. She hoped, as Sid worked to untie a canvas bag from the storage rack of the bike, that her attentive surveillance was going unnoticed.

  Eventually, Mia found words to break the spell. “Welcome! So glad you could make it. I’m curious…have you folks out here never heard of helmets?”

  Sid laughed. “Good God, not you, too. I hear that every day from Isabel. No, I’m not the helmet type.” Sid sauntered toward her, holding the bag.

  “I suppose I’m overly sensitive about heads, given current events.” Mia ran her hand through her hair, still aware of the slight pain from touching the residual bump.

  “Here,” Sid said kindly, handing Mia the bag. “Maybe this will make you feel a bit better.”

  Mia accepted the mystery gift and placed it on the wide arm of a cottage chair set near the
fire, gesturing for Sid to take the accompanying seat.

  “May I get you a drink? Pinot Noir?”

  “Sounds perfect.” As Mia stepped into the trailer, Sid continued to talk. “We really lucked out with the weather tonight. It would have been a shame to be stuck indoors. Is it safe to assume that this is not on our menu?”

  Mia stepped down from the trailer, drinks in hand, and saw her peering into the cauldron over the fire. “Milo and Flynn aren’t much into sharing.” She laughed. “But I do need your help with that, if you don’t mind. It’s cool enough to move into a cooler, but I don’t think I should test my ribs yet.”

  “No worries.” Sid had the heavy pot unhooked from the tripod and ready to transport. “You know, this doesn’t smell half bad. It’s dog food?”

  “My specialty. The pot lid is beside the aluminum cooler in the tent. And there’s a big bag of ice in the smaller cooler.”

  Sid lowered the pot into one of the large silver coolers, fitting the metal lid on the stewed meat mix, and poured ice from the other cooler over top. Once the lid was secured, they moved to the chairs where glasses of wine and the canvas bag waited.

  “Now, this wasn’t necessary,” Mia said, untying the drawstring. “I’m the one in your debt.”

  “The pot was not that heavy. I actually felt badly that Bullwinkle scared Milo.” She patted him. “You’d better open it before the dogs do.”

  Mia reached into the bag and pulled out a cobalt blue porcelain bottle. She read the label aloud. “Casa Noble Reposado?”

  “I know you’re partial to good ol’ Jose, but since this camp is decidedly salt and lime free, for some reason I still do not quite understand, I thought you might enjoy some reposado. If you’ve never tried it, I think you’ll like the pronounced blue agave, especially if you let it linger.”

  Mia fought back a smile. Did she really just use the word linger?

  “That’s lovely, thank you. I promise to stay far from Bullwinkle if I’ve had too much the night before.”

  Mia could tell from Sid’s smile that she was more excited about something left in the bag than what had already been so sweetly received. She reached back in and pulled out a small wooden box with a flip-style lid. She held it flat and pushed up the lid with her thumbs, revealing a glistening slab of honeycomb and a small wooden spatula.

  “There’s a beekeeper not far from here,” Sid explained. “My mom always kept our honey in a wooden box similar to that, and it’s a tradition that’s stuck with me over the years.”

  “It’s a lovely gift, and the honey will be perfect with the pears we’re having for dessert. I don’t think I can wait that long, though.”

  Mia drizzled a stream of honey off the spatula onto her baby finger and put it on the tip of her tongue, fully aware of the suggestiveness of her gesture. Flirting was not something with which she was well practiced, but she hoped it was having the intended effect on her dinner guest. As much as she was enjoying her own performance, she didn’t have the courage to look at Sid. She imagined that if she did, she’d fall into those provocative eyes, and dinner might never end up on the table.

  “My God, that’s good. Now I can’t wait for dessert. Steaks first, though. Would you mind restoking those coals while I go finish the appetizer?”

  Five minutes later, Mia emerged with a small platter, which she set on an overturned cut stump that served perfectly as a table. Sid was trying to hide the fact that she had been looking at her phone. Mia appreciated the effort.

  “Cashew cheese stuffed cremini mushrooms with arugula walnut pesto.”

  Mia’s description was second only to the compelling arrangement she’d created. On the white background of the rectangular plate, a broad brushstroke of pesto in the shape of an elongated S ran its length, creating a playful counterpoint to the platter’s angles. She placed the mushrooms, burgeoned with warm creamy cheese and dripping with a drizzle more of the pesto, were placed along the green swipe like tiny mountains along a river. The rest of the landscape she’d sprinkled with baby arugula leaves, small bits of roasted walnut, and tendrils of delicate yellow sweet clover.

  Sid’s mouth dropped. “I know that people eat with their eyes first, but you have created a masterpiece.”

  “Aha! So, does this mean you are reconsidering the importance of the aesthetic?” Mia was delighted to return to the debate from nights ago.

  “Perhaps, but I’m not ready to concede just yet. I do need to experience the whole story.”

  With that, Sid picked a mushroom off the plate and popped it in her mouth. Such a sensuous mouth. Mia imagined what she was tasting: Creamy with crunch. Earthy with herbaceous notes. Salty and savory. Whatever qualities hit Sid’s palate, they were enough to knock her back into her chair, her eyes rolled back, feigning surrender.

  “How about now?” Mia asked playfully, delighted with Sid’s reaction to her fare. “Does pretty win?”

  “What kind of a critic would I be if I failed to complete my research?” Sid asked, smiling and reaching for another.

  As the two polished off the remaining mushrooms, Mia decided to broach the subject of the situation at Sid’s gallery, hopeful that it wouldn’t cast a pall on an evening that had started off so well.

  Sid seemed open to her query. “There’s still hope. I managed to get a message to the European buyer, which tells me he’s willing to talk. To be honest, the most difficult part was telling Martin.”

  “Martin? Not Martin Stephens! He’s your client?” Mia tried not to sound as impressed as she was. Martin Stephens was a celebrity, yes, but she had attended a symposium he spoke at on humor and health when Riley was sick, and his insights helped her with some of her own caretaker issues. Of course, she knew about his art interests, too, as the national arts media covered his activities extensively. Odd that Sid hadn’t mentioned he was her client that night on the porch when his name came up.

  A good poker player indeed.

  “Not a client exactly. He’s a friend. He has been a tremendous advocate for the gallery, generous to a fault, really. In return, though he doesn’t expect it, I help him sort through the complexities of his other deals. I keep him safe. There’s plenty of fraud now that prices are high. I wish I could have secured that sketch for him.”

  “So, he has the final canvas? The one inspired by the sketch sold out from under you?”

  She tucked her hair behind her ears and finished what was left in her glass. “He does.” When her gaze wandered to the foothills, Mia’s followed. The pale orange sky now looked like a thick quilt lay along the top of the peaks.

  “So tell me about you. How on earth did you end up back in Alberta, training herding dogs?” Sid got up and added a couple of pieces of wood to the fire, petting the dogs as she returned to her chair.

  “Where do I start? To be honest, the journey wasn’t exactly planned. I did my undergrad at University of Calgary and fell into some postgrad work with Ian Jorden.”

  “Glad I’m not tonight’s only name-dropper…you are talking about the dog guy, right?”

  “The one and only star of public television’s Fetch It Fella, yes. And yes, he is as quirky in real life as he was on the show. He financed most of his research and that of the psychology department thanks to the show’s residuals.”

  Mia went on to talk briefly about her own research in the psychology of eye and hand gestures and how she’d worked with the Ministry of Defence in Ottawa for a short time, consulting on covert communications. Mia was pleased to see Sid engaged and rewarded her—trusted her—by revealing a bit more about her life with Riley.

  “So, she was a military pilot?”

  “She was. Loved flying. Pretty good at it too by all accounts.” Mia stared into the flames and noticed with some alarm that the fire had burned down to coals again. “Gosh, you must be starving. Would you mind setting the grate just above the coals while I get the steaks?”

  “No problem.” Sid was quicker out of the chair than Mia, who still moved wi
th extra caution.

  Mia flipped open the trailer door, grabbed the sidebar to pull herself inside, and felt a dull thud behind her eyes. She stopped mid-hoist, balancing on the first step, uncertain in that moment if going forward or stepping down would be the best strategy. As the trailer tipped in front of her eyes, she was no longer part of the decision.

  “Hey, there! I gotcha.” Mia felt Sid against her back, her arms gently sliding under Mia’s elbows, steadying her enough that she was able to establish balance on the step. There was something familiar in the closeness, the embrace. The carousel.

  I gotcha.

  Mia turned and found herself swimming in eyes that had transformed into pools of molten jade made even greener by the sage shirt.

  “I’m not sure you should be on your feet.”

  Tumbleweeds were pummeling Mia’s very core. “I’m starting to agree,” she whispered. Instead of pulling away, she let herself sink closer into Sid’s chest. She heard and felt a surprised gasp, then watched Sid’s eyes fix on her lips.

  “You have a little honey there.” Sid nodded at the corner of Mia’s lips, then brought a finger to them, tracing the width of her mouth before reaching the sticky residue.

  “Waste not, want not,” Mia managed breathily, pulling on Sid’s shoulder blades, drawing her even closer before lowering her head and brushing Sid’s lips with hers. She explored gently at first, but as she felt the reciprocity of Sid’s response, a swell of urgency flooded her body. Soon, Sid’s hand was in Mia’s hair, gently pulling while half lifting her down the step and into her arms.

  “Ouch!”

  “Oh God, Mia, your ribs! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Sid stepped back and held Mia’s hands. She clenched in response, taking a handful of short, staccato breaths that reminded her of every Lamaze class she’d ever seen on TV.

  As much as Mia wanted nothing to shatter their embrace, the act of nearly falling into Sid gave rise to a rib pain that took her breath even further away than Sid’s kiss had already. When the pain subsided and her breathing regulated, Mia pulled herself more upright, loosening her grip on Sid’s hands. She smiled weakly. “Well, I can’t say I’m glad that’s over, but I’m glad that’s over.”