Page 75 of Graciously His

I hint at the situation rather than saying it outright. If Mihi were to apprehend the truth beneath everything—a truth I myself have been ignoring—then she might feel she has to rescue me. And that’s not why I’m here, especially if it would endanger her livelihood. So I let out a slow breath and stand, knowing I need to go.

“It’ll be fine,” I say. “You were right, all those weeks ago: I’ve got to draw some lines with Nate and enforce them. Today proves that beyond a doubt.”

I’m about to take my untouched tea back to the kitchenette when Mihi speaks up, her voice a little louder than usual. “You want to stick with me for the day? There’ll be lambs to cuddle.”

I hesitate. “I don’t want to get in your way.”

“Oh, you won’t, so long as you’re not afraid to get your hands dirty.”

Mihi sidles up to me, plucking the cup from my hands. She rinses it out quickly and puts it on the draining board. I feel myself smile, feeling more at home in her little kitchen than I ever have in Nate’s oversized one. The mish-mash of colours—earth tones alongside shocking pinks and blues—shouldn’t work, but it does.

“I’d love to get my hands dirty,” I say truthfully, “and take my mind off everything.”

“Done and done.”

She leads me outside, where Shep waits for us, and we get started.

We drive right into the rolling coastal hills, and the day brings sun and work enough that I can set aside the morning. I watch Mihi tend her sheep, each of whom has a name, one of whom drops her lamb just as we’re arriving. It’s a singleton rather than a twin, and its cries sound like a human baby’s. I cuddle newborn lambs. I get my hands very dirty. I learn about grafting lambs and treating mastitis. And I cry a little when Mihi says that some of the babies won’t make it.

Finally, the sun gets low on the horizon, and Mihi sends me home with a hug and an invitation to come back and help her anytime. I don’t know how to thank her for what she’s done—for both acknowledging Nate’s bad behaviour, and then letting me leave it behind. But I don’t need to. She gives me a final look of deep understanding, and declares she’ll see me tomorrow morning.

I walk in the growing twilight, the sea at my heels, Shep sprinting over the sand. Mihi knows I’m going home to an empty house, but she doesn’t know that I’m also going into the next moment of a marriage that has been fucked up from the beginning. It’s been a month since all of this started and, in between staining my hands with iodine, wiping lambs covered in afterbirth, and seeing my friend comfort a ewe who bled out as I watched, I’ve realised that it’s time for another negotiation.

And this one, I have to win.

Chapter 30

Nate

Ikeep in touch with Mihi throughout the day, but she’s uncharacteristically cagey. I saw Grace leave the house on the cameras and I figured—correctly—that she’d go next door. What I didn’t predict was Mihi keeping my wife all day long and refusing to tell me what they were doing together. I can guess, of course: it’s still lambing season, so they’re likely checking the flocks and supporting the ewes, but it’s one thing to assume, and another to know.

Grace might not realise it, but she found the perfect way to punish me for leaving. By going next door and helping Mihi, Grace has ensured that I can’t reprimand her for leaving, and that I know exactly how much time she’s spent with someone else while I’ve been gone. I’d intended to arrive home to a lonely woman filled with remorse. Now, as I drive too fast down the narrow northern roads, I know I’ll get home to a woman who’s put in a full, hard day of work with her close friend.

For the best, I tell myself.

And it is. It’s good that Grace has someone like Mihi to turn to when I have to leave the house. Having spent the day cleaning up all the messes in the office, I know I’ll need to go in more often. At least once per week. Dare has done a great job for someone with virtually no executive experience, but the reality is that his cousin was hardly trained before he stepped into Nick’s role, and the office manager has been overdrawn all month long. I sigh, pulling into one of the sideroads that’ll take me home. The worst aspect of owning the company is dealing with clients, which I used to foist off on Nick. At least the lease renewal was done quickly, and won’t need to be dealt with for another year.

I tap the car’s console for the fifth or sixth time since I started driving, calling the house’s landline. Like every other time, the phone rings until the answering service kicks in. Grace is home. I watched her arrive on the camera feed over an hour ago. This is a blatant refusal to engage with me, and I add it to the list of issues to be addressed tonight.

I let myself consider the worst moment of the day, the one that marked this test of leaving Grace to herself an utter failure. Almost immediately after I left, she went on her socials and unblocked Constance Fucking Reid. I caught the notification from my spyware, but not before the Munchausen bitch reached out. Grace will have seen that initial message, and I know for a fucking fact that I’ll have to re-establish the dynamic I’ve worked hard to set in my marriage.

I put my foot down to speed the car up, well over the limit. I need to get myself home, grab Grace, and hold her tight until the entire world falls away.

A few kilometers from home, I pull over and force myself to breathe. I need to calm down. It’s no good arriving in this state. I know better than to discipline Grace in anger, even if my anger is justified. I need to get to the heart of the situation, not vent my reaction to it. Today is proof, beyond what I’ve tried to ignore, that she is not my wife in full, and that she doesn’t understand her obligations under my care.

The cool evening air steadies my hands and clears my head. I get back in the car, no longer angry. Instead, I’m determined. She needs my care and my love, and I’m going to bring her both.

The house is dark when I pull up. The outdoor floodlights ignite and Shep races to greet me as I step out of the car. At a quick hand signal, he backs off, tail between his legs. He whines but I ignore him, walking up to the front door, which I find unlocked.

Of fucking course.

“Grace?” I call into the house, not bothering to take off my shoes. I put down my laptop case and head inside. I didn’t see her leave on the cameras, but there’s no answer when I call for her again. I check the bedroom, the office, then the gym. No Grace. Cursing under my breath, I head to the other end of the horseshoe, where I find her in the reading nook, legs tucked up underneath a throw blanket, a book open on her lap.

“Grace.”

She turns a page as I watch, deliberately refusing to look up. My anger spikes but I contain it, peering into her lap to see what she’s reading. A battered copy of The Secret Garden that must have come in one of the boxes from Dunedin.

I pluck the book from her hands.