by Marisa Logan
Sunil came in wearing a dark gray business suit. His lawyer walked in with him, carrying a briefcase. They sat across the table from us. The lawyer said, “Good morning,” but kept a grim face as she sorted through her papers. Sunil stared me down from across the table. I wished that Harold could have been here. But when it came down to it, this was something that Sunil and I had to settle on our own.
The lawyers went over some of the basics first, touching on the main points of the meeting. I was handed a contract to read over, which basically said that I was giving up ownership of the land and transferring it to Sunil in its entirety, at no cost. Things were completely straightforward until it came time for full disclosure about any issues with the property.
“Well,” I said, taking a deep breath. “I went down there last week to inspect the property, and to see if there was anything that needed to be salvaged.”
“Anything there belongs to me,” Sunil said.
I turned a weary eye on him and said, “Books, Sunil. I went to collect some old books from the farmhouse.”
“Oh.” He shifted in his seat. From the look in his eyes, I expected he wanted to argue the point that even the books belonged to him. But he surely knew that doing so would be petty.
“I'm afraid I must tell you,” I continued, “I did find some damage to the land. I'm not sure if it was storm damage or vandalism, but some of the equipment was damaged.”
“What are you talking about?” Sunil sat up straighter, looking like he was ready to lunge across the table at me. “I was just there a few weeks ago. I didn't see any damage.”
“Did you inspect the whole 1200 acres?” I asked, forcing myself to meet his eyes.
“Well...no.” He sat back in his seat and adjusted his jacket.
“I did,” I said. “I wanted to make sure I knew exactly what I was handing over.”
Sunil leaned over and whispered something to his lawyer. The lawyer made a few notes on her tablet. “What sorts of damages are we talking about?” the lawyer asked.
“Well, most of the irrigation system is pretty badly damaged,” I said. I looked down at the table, unable to meet either Sunil or the lawyer's eyes while I spun my lies. “It looked like a storm had tossed a lot of the equipment about. The sprinklers, the pumps, it's all pretty ruined.”
Sunil drummed his fingers on the table. He stared me down, and I tried my best to keep a calm expression. If he suspected that I'd caused the damages myself, he could ask for an investigation. No one had seen Harold and I while we were out there—the land was quite isolated—but we hadn't exactly tried to cover our tracks very well. I was sure that a professional investigator would easily be able to tell the difference between storm damage and vandalism.
“How much will this impact the value of the land?” Sunil asked, staring at me.
“I really wouldn't know.” I turned my palms up and shrugged. “You're welcome to hire another appraiser to go out and inspect the land, but considering you're not paying me anything, I hardly see how it matters.”
Sunil whispered something else to his lawyer. The lawyer wrote something on her tablet and handed it to Sunil. He glanced at the note, then asked, “Is there anything else?”
“Yes,” I said. I took another deep breath. “There was a fire. I'm afraid the farmhouse is destroyed. Not that it should matter, you weren't planning on moving in there anyway.”
Sunil's eyes locked onto mine. I gripped the underside of the table to keep my hands from shaking. I forced my face to remain calm and stoic. All Sunil had to do was say the word “arson,” and I could wind up in jail.
I held his gaze. He knew. I was sure that he knew. But he also knew that I could have him sent to jail any time I wanted for violating the restraining order when he came down to harass me at the library. I had witnesses. The university had security cameras. It wouldn't matter that I hadn't called the police on any of the days that he was there. I had time still before the statute of limitations ran out.
I raised my chin, keeping my eyes on his. Daring him to press the matter. Waiting to see who would blink first.
Sunil made a fist and slammed it against the table. “Sign the damn papers.”
I smiled and reached for the pen. A few signatures and initials later, I was free of the land, and free of anything that would give Sunil a reason to bother me again. I felt the burden of ten years of failed marriage lifting away from me as I scrawled my name on the last page.
Sunil got up to leave. His lawyer stepped out, holding the door for him. Sunil stood there for a moment, staring me down. I folded my hands on the table and smiled at him.
“You're a real bitch, Sharada,” he said. “You should go back to Mumbai. Maybe your mother would still take you in and teach you how a woman ought to behave.”
“I'm perfectly happy with the way I behave, thank you very much.” I leaned back in my chair, folding my hands in my lap. “Don't ever come near me again, Sunil. You have no more excuses, and I assure you that if I see you near my home or my workplace again, you'll be arrested.”
He turned and stalked out the door, grumbling to himself. I was confident now that I'd never see him again. And it was a wonderful feeling.
Chapter 16
When I got back home after the meeting, I found Harold waiting there for me, sitting in Babe the Blue Pickup Truck. He got out as soon as I parked my car, carrying a bouquet of flowers.
I took the bouquet and inhaled the sweet scent. “Oh, Harold, you sweet man.” I leaned up on my toes and kissed him. I caressed his smooth cheek. He had shaved now that the vacation was over, though part of me missed the grizzled look of the beard.
“I thought I'd do something to bring you a little cheer,” he said. “Just in case things didn't go well.”
“It went as well as can be expected.” I led him to the door and let us inside. “I don't think Sunil is going to be bothering me anymore.”
“That's a relief.” The tension let out of Harold's shoulders. I smiled at him and stroked his cheek. It touched me to see that he got so concerned about my troubles.
I dug through the kitchen cabinets for a vase, then filled it with water and set it on the table with the flowers. Then I brought out one of the last bottles of cranberry wine we'd retrieved from the farm and poured us each a glass.
I raised my glass and said, “To putting the past behind us, and moving forward.”
“To moving forward.” Harold tipped his glass against mine. “And burning bridges.”
I laughed, then sipped at the tart liquid, finding I was starting to develop a taste for it.
We moved into the living room and sat on the couch. I curled my legs under me and turned to face Harold. He looked like he had something on his mind. I put a hand on his leg and asked, “What is it?”
“Well,” he said, “I've been thinking a lot today about what we talked about. About the future, and children, and all of that.”
I squeezed his knee and smiled at him. “We don't need to decide anything right away. Wanting one simple thing, remember?”
The corner of his mouth twisted in a smirk. His hands kept fidgeting with the bottom of his flannel shirt. “What if I want something that's not so simple?”
My breath caught in my throat. I held myself very still. “What do you mean?”
“I mean I'm forty-three years old. Turning forty-four in a couple of weeks. I feel like I'm at the age where I don't want to waste time trying to figure things out when I already know what I want.”
My face started to feel warm. “And what do you want.”
“You.”
He turned to face me. He reached into his pocket.
I put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Harold...”
“You can wait your entire life trying to find the right time to start living it,” he said. “Or you can find that all the pieces are falling into place, and you want to make sure not to lose the chance that life has handed you. I spent a long time in a marriage that didn't fit, trying to f
orce it to work. Now that I've found something that works, something that works all on its own, without me having to force it...” He looked down and cleared his throat. “Well, this is what feels right to me. I know this is what I want.”
Tears filled my eyes. I pulled my hand away from his arm and nodded, waiting for what I knew was coming.
He pulled the small black box out of his pocket. He turned it around a few times in his hands, then shifted in his seat. I thought for a moment he was going to get down on one knee, but I knew his knees were bad sometimes, and I didn't want him to struggle to get back up just because he wanted to make a romantic gesture. I shifted closer and took his hands in mine, cradling the box between us.
He cleared his throat, unable to quite look up at me. His face was red. “I'm not so good at this. I didn't actually have to do it the first time. We just eloped.”
“You don't need to ask, you sweet man. You already know the answer.”
I took the box and opened it. The ring was simple and unadorned. It was perfect.
He slid it onto my finger. It felt a bit strange to be wearing a ring there again, after more than a year without one. But it was comfortable.
I leaned in and kissed him. I slipped my arms around him and pulled him close. Then we settled side by side on the couch, my head laying against his shoulder. He put an arm around me and held me against him. It felt right. It felt comfortable. Perfect.
I already knew I would want to sell the house. There were too many memories from my life with Sunil here. Harold and I could find a new home together. A simple place, with hardwood floors and a fireplace. Someplace rustic, with history seeped within the walls and plenty of room to build new memories, a new life together.
And a couple of extra bedrooms, just in case there were a few new additions to the family in our future.
THE END
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