Page 74 of Graciously His

“That’s what I thought,” he says when I don’t answer.

“Fuck off,” I whisper, too angry to even consider what I’m saying.

“I already have. Tonight, we’ll have a long talk about this—right up close.”

The line goes dead.

I slam the receiver into its cradle. Shep whines and I smile at him despite my tears.

“Come on, boy. If he gets to leave, then so do we.”

***

It takes about twenty minutes to get to Mihi’s place, Shep bouncing along beside me on the sand. I consider walking down the road, but that would involve navigating the gate, and something tells me Nate has locked it remotely. I take my second walk of the day along the beach, my anger steady, my steps quick. I’ve never walked this way before, and my eyes trace how the cliffs slope gradually into dunes covered in flax. On the hills rising above the sea, Mihi's sheep are dots of white, grazing in the sun.

Her house is beyond a long stretch of dunes, a modest bungalow overlooking the sea. I walk up the sandy path, my feet a bit sore. I falter, realising that I’ve never approached her like this. I don’t know if Mihi likes drop-ins; maybe I should have called first. It’s too late to doubt: she’s at the big sliding door, her smile wide and a bit puzzled.

“Hey Gracie-girl,” she says, the same words she greets me with each morning. Her smile falls when she sees my face. “You okay, honey?”

I definitely should have spent the walk over considering what to tell her. As it is, I’m scattered and high-strung, and there’s a shadow of the old air-hungry panic within my lungs.

“Sorry, Mihi,” I begin, “am I disrupting your day?”

“You’re lucky you caught me, actually.” She jerks her chin at the paddocks beyond her house. “I was about to take the quad into the hills to check on the ewes. What’s on your mind?”

I know I should probably turn around and head home, but Mihi steps forward, hand outstretched.

“The lambs can wait a few minutes. Come inside for a cuppa, yeah?”

I follow her onto the porch, wiping my bare feet on the mat before going inside. At a gesture from Mihi, Shep lies down on the porch. The house has clearly been renovated, and recently. It’s a studio, with a new kitchenette to one side, a large living area in the centre. A bedroom nook along the northern wall maximises the spring sun. I notice a variety of textures, some clashing colourfully: a jute carpet in the living room beneath corduroy couches; a circular rag rug in the kitchen, contrasting with the red-stained hardwood floor; a bright pink duvet on the bed, next to a turquoise slingback reading chair. It’s cosy, despite being rather stimulating.

“Ah yes,” Mihi says over the sound of an electric kettle heating up, “I see the architect coming inside and judging my house. Well, what’s the verdict?”

I try to laugh at the sardonic question, but it doesn’t come.

“I like it,” I say. “You’re using contrast in a way that should make it feel busy in here, but it works.”

“Too right it does.”

She pours boiling water into a pair of cups then waves me into the lounge area. I take a seat on the squashy couch and Mihi turns the slingback chair to face me.

“What’s on your mind, then? And,” she blows into her steaming mug, “why didn’t you go into town with Hadley?”

“He told you he was leaving?”

“Of course. I was meant to check in on you this afternoon, but you’ve brought the check-in to me. Is everything alright?”

I set the hot mug aside, my stomach too sensitive even for rooibos tea. If I’m going to tell Mihi what happened, I need to frame it honestly. “I wanted to go to town with Nate and he said no. He took my phone and left.”

She regards me, her expression complex. I’m not sure what I expect her to say, so I sit and wait.

“That mother-fucking arsehole,” she says, then she takes a long sip of tea.

I stare, too shocked to answer. I’m not sure what I expected her to say—Nate is, after all, Mihi’s employer as well as her neighbour.

She continues her quiet invective. “And taking your phone on top of it, what an absolute, sodding son of a—” she cuts herself off, her lips pressing together in frustrated disapproval. “He said nothing about being such a dick to you, or I’d have had words with him. Hell, I’d have come to see you straight away.”

“Yeah,” I whisper, choosing my words carefully, “he’s definitely overstepped.”