Page 38

I took another minute to marvel. Was I really going to live here?

“Where do you want to go next?” John asked, watching me.

“You tell me, it’s your house,” I said, still in disbelief.

He smiled, then lifted my fingers to his lips.

“It’s your house now, too.”

“I might need a minute on that,” I said, shaking my head.

He grinned at me, then took me down the hallway to the kitchen.

Cream-coloured cabinets wrapped around the room, with lacquered wood countertops.

A large island sat in the middle with a double sink and three raised chairs in front of it.

A large steel fridge stood in the corner.

On the opposite side of the room was a wood table, painted a deep blue, with four chairs.

A set of glass doors on the far-left wall led into a dining room.

Next to that, a white door stood ajar, and Kimmy stood inside a spacious pantry, putting away the food that Sarah had gifted us.

“Wondered when you’d turn up,” she said casually. “I got the other animals settled with Asha’s help, so I think we’re okay to be in for the evening.”

“Where is Asha?” I asked.

“Exploring the property,” Kimmy replied, and she suddenly sounded strained. “We…had a little fight.”

“Oh no, what happened?” I asked. “Is it about the council meeting?”

She sighed. “Yeah. I guess I didn’t do the best job defending her yesterday, but what did she expect me to do?”

John stared at the floor, looking uncomfortable.

“You could’ve called her your girlfriend,” I said with a shrug. “Not judging, but I can see why that might’ve—”

“She doesn’t want me to,” Kimmy interjected sharply. “And she’s made it very clear that she’s not my girlfriend, so I don’t know what she wanted me to say.”

“But…you guys are together,” I replied, staring at her. “It’s obvious.”

Kimmy crossed her arms. “Apparently not. She’s fine to travel with me for two months, to live with me, to fuck me—”

“Wow, this definitely doesn’t sound like my business,” John interjected, shifting from foot to foot. “When you two are done talking, I’ll be waiting in the hall, Claire.”

He left the room, and when Kimmy met my eye, we burst into giggles. For a moment, we couldn’t stop, and it felt so good to laugh together after months of tedious travel.

“I’m never gonna get tired of embarrassing him,” Kimmy said, wiping her eyes. “His face is fucking priceless every time.”

She imitated John’s brow, furrowed with discomfort, and I endured another bout of giggles.

“I’m sorry, Kim,” I said once we’d calmed down. “I didn’t know. I thought maybe you were just nervous about telling everyone about the two of you.”

“I am,” she replied. “I get it, though. It’s new, between us. But that girl gives me whiplash. One moment, I think she’s happy to be with me, and the next, she’s giving me the cold shoulder.”

I crossed my arms. “I’ll talk to her.”

The corners of Kimmy’s mouth turned down in distress.

“Please don’t,” she begged. “She’ll be upset that I even said anything to you. I don’t really know what happened with her past, but…I think part of the problem may be that she’s hung up on so me ex of hers.”

I frowned. “I’ve never known her to be hung up on anyone.”

She shrugged. “Can’t tell you more than that. It’s just the impression I got.”

A heavy silence followed.

“She’s my friend,” I said quietly, “but if it’s not a good relationship, you don’t have to settle for her.”

“Be real, Claire,” Kimmy said with a bitter chuckle. “How many gay women do you think live in this community? Hint: you’re looking at her.”

Unfortunately, she had a point, as much as I hated that for her.

“You deserve love as much as anyone,” I said gently. “I want that for you.”

She sighed. “Sometimes I think maybe it could become that with Asha. If she’d just get out of her own damn way.”

I gave her a sympathetic smile. “I know.”

We stood in silence again for a moment before I changed the subject.

“This place is amazing.”

Kimmy smiled warmly. “Glad you like it. Why don’t you go see the rest? Besides, I think we’ve mortified John enough for one day.”

I laughed, then went to rejoin John. Next, he showed me the living room, where two grey sofas faced one another in the centre of the room.

The back wall was all wall-to-floor windows, looking onto the back porch.

The ceiling was similarly high to the hallway, and was paneled, while the rest of the room was the same off-white.

A large stone fireplace was the centrepiece of the room.

A fire was already crackling away. The room radiated a homey glow.

A worn leather recliner stood in the corner.

All of the furniture was arranged around an old-fashioned, square wooden coffee table.

The rest of the main floor held a formal dining room, a small bathroom, and the door to an enormous cellar with rows of shelves, which John said was usually full of liquor.

Summerhurst had been one of only two liquor-producing homesteads in the Valley.

A couple rows of dusty bottles were all that remained now.

Upstairs, John showed me the bathrooms and the unused bedrooms, which had all been retrofitted with woodstoves to keep them warm in the winter.

Finally, he led me to the study, which to my surprise and delight, was lined with books.

A small, antique desk stood in the centre.

The big windows allowed for ample light, and it looked out onto a gated garden in the distance.

“I thought maybe you could paint in here,” John said with a small smile. “We’re going out tomorrow for supplies, so we can ask around for art stuff.”

“I’d love that,” I murmured, imagining where I’d put my easel.

He pointed at the fenced garden I’d noticed. “That’s the rose garden. A gift for Granny for their fiftieth anniversary. It’s where I was thinking we’d get married.”

I flushed happily at that thought. “You’ll have to take me there another day.”

The final stop was the master bedroom. John led me to a set of double doors and paused, looking uncertain.

“This was my grandparents’ room,” he said. “I moved my furniture in here yesterday because I thought we could use the extra space. Haven’t spent much time in here since they died.”

I took his hand, rubbing reassuring circles with my thumb. “I’m sure it’s lovely. Show me.”

The master bedroom was old-fashioned and spacious, with antique mahogany furniture and faded green drapery.

On one side stood a small desk that doubled as a vanity table with a chair, as well as the door to a walk-in closet.

The opposite side was home to an ornately carved full-length mirror, two dressers, the woodstove, and the door to an ensuite bathroom.

The centrepiece was a big wooden bed made up with soft grey bedding and a massive, heavy blanket of fur.

I touched the blanket in wonder.

“Bearskin,” John said, amused, as he watched me. “You didn’t think that bear back at our camp was my first one, did you?”

Just touching it, I knew it’d keep me toasty all winter long.

I pictured sleeping in this room each night, snuggled up with John, and my entire body filled with warmth.

The whole house was beautiful in a way that nothing at the Cave had been; history echoed from its every corner. I was determined to soak it in.

“You like it,” John said, watching my expression.

“Duh,” I replied, and he chuckled.

I peeked into the ensuite bathroom, and besides the usual shower, there was an old-fashioned copper bathtub with clawed feet .

“Don’t use that so much,” John said, nodding at the tub. “Wastes water.”

Rationally, I understood, but it felt like a crime to never use something so beautiful.

“You’ve always liked taking baths with me,” I said, biting my lip.

He grinned. “Nothing to do with the bath, baby.”

I sat on the edge of the bed, still admiring our surroundings.

As foreign as this big, old house was to me, I could see myself living here.

The house already felt familiar, as if by knowing its inhabitants, I’d somehow developed a kinship with it.

I wanted to make my own memories here, to join the legacy that emanated from every corner.

“I think we’ll be happy here,” I said.

John kissed me. “I know we will be. Now, let’s get some supper and rest. Tomorrow, the real work begins.”