24. Mike
MIKE
I ’m a couple of minutes early to pick up Una and Sierra, but Sierra is already waiting outside Una’s porch.
She’s standing, one arm wrapped around herself, as she does something on her phone.
I’m reminded of the first time I met her, when she was defiant like a mini-Luke.
When she looks up at the sound of the truck, her eyes narrow.
She’s wearing a lot of eyeliner and black lipstick, and I have the sense it’s warpaint.
Her jeans are torn and her top is tight, her black boots laced up.
She looks ready to kick butt and take names, and I wonder what’s set her off.
I hope like hell it wasn’t me.
Una shrugs when she comes out to the truck and I figure it’s a teenage girl thing.
Una and I chat as we drive to Port Cavendish, while Sierra sits between us in silence and glowers out the front windshield. She might have been seized against her will and compelled to come along. I’m in uncharted territory so I follow Una’s lead and ignore Sierra’s mood.
That works until we get to the trailer place. I park and Una slides out of the truck in a hurry. I reach for the door but Sierra stops me with a word.
“Mike.”
I turn to look at her, as hostile as a tomcat, and have the urge to tread carefully. “Something wrong?”
“Mom says she told you that you’re my dad.” This is tossed at me with defiance, as if she expects me to deny it.
“Yes, she did.”
“Don’t you believe her?”
“Of course, I believe her.”
“But you didn’t tell your friends last night that I’m your daughter.” She looks, if anything, even more furious. “Are you ashamed of me?”
“No! Of course not.”
“But?” she invites, a challenge in her eyes. She looks ready to breathe fire and I realize a bit late how important it might be for her to be acknowledged by me.
Maybe this cause isn’t lost just yet.
I lean back and take it slow. “Okay. This is all new, right?” I glance her way and she nods warily. “And your mom is really disappointed in me. She thinks I let her down when you were born.”
“She said you said you didn’t get her letters. You didn’t know.”
I’m touched that Sierra’s ready to defend me. “But she still feels betrayed and that’s fair. I’d feel the same way in her place.”
“You would?”
“Of course. You trust someone. You count on them to make something right or at least talk about it, but when you ask for their help, you get stone-walled.”
“Ghosted.” She nods wisely.
“I’d be more than disappointed,” I note .
“I’d be mad,” she agrees.
“Exactly. So, right now, I don’t want to do anything that might make your mom more mad.”
Something dawns in her eyes. “You’re going to fix it.”
“I’m trying, but it might take a while.” I watch as Sierra nods agreement. “I asked her last night if we could tell people about this, and she agreed, so now I’m clear to share the news.”
“She’s not the boss of you.”
“No, but I don’t ever want to hurt your mom again. I’ll tell the guys next week. It’s only a few days difference.”
She nods and stares out the window again, but she’s not emanating hostility anymore. I’ll call it progress. “ Can you fix this, Mike?” she asks very quietly.
“I don’t know. I’ll do my best.”
“Because you still like Mom.” There’s no question in her voice but she’s watching me again.
I nod. “There never was anyone else who could compete.”
She studies me for a long moment, then looks down at her hands. “What would you have done if you’d read the letters?”
“Well, I was going to propose the last night we were together, so that probably would have been my answer.” I raise a finger before she can pounce on that.
“But you can’t second-guess the past. Maybe it wouldn’t have worked out.
Maybe it would have worked out, but we’d be different people now than we are. ”
“I don’t understand.”
“If your mom and I had gotten married right out of high school, it wouldn’t have been easy.
I spent six years doing my undergrad and graduate work.
That would have been a long time to have a family and not a job.
I might have quit school to go to work, which means I wouldn’t be doing what I’m doing now.
I probably would have made less money without my education.
Not having enough money might have meant that we argued or split up.
There’s nothing saying that the other path, the one we didn’t take, was a better one. ”
She nods slowly, considering this.
“So, instead of thinking about what could have been, I’d rather think about the future, and what I can do in the present to make the future better.” I gesture and we get out of the truck, matching our steps as we head toward Una. She’s talking to Mindy beside the trailer of choice.
“But even if you don’t end up with Mom, you’ll still be my dad, right?” Sierra asks.
“Absolutely. You can call me anytime.”
“Even if I don’t want you to fix something?”
“Even then.”
She smiles at me, a sweet smile that twists my heart in a knot. I ache for everything I’ve missed, then resolve to be there for her always. “Thanks, Mike.”
I offer my fist the way Carson did the night before, but Sierra flings herself at me. She gives me a hard hug then scampers away before I can respond.
She’s running backward and laughing at me. “You need to work on your hugs, Mike,” she teases. “You look shocked. Rupert hasn’t softened you up nearly enough.”
I guess he hasn’t.
Or maybe there’s always room for improvement in someone’s hug capacity.
I check out the trailer and it’s perfect in every way.
The wiring is new and neatly done, the plumbing is compact and precise.
The finishing on the interior could have been done by a cabinetmaker.
We crawl over the whole thing, Sierra and I, checking every switch and every connection.
I take my time, enjoying her questions and cleverness.
Mindy explains how everything works in detail, and I can’t offer a single quibble.
Plus it’s so damn cute.
Una is sitting in a lawn chair outside the Airstream that is the office, watching us with an indulgent expression. She looks better than she has lately. Her color has improved since I saw her last, but she’s clearly got less energy. Still, she has a serenity that is reassuring.
“Hmm.” I scowl at the trailer with apparent disapproval as Mindy watches. Sierra is practically vibrating beside me. I give her a sidelong glance and wince. “It’s so perfect that I guess we’ll just have to take it.”
“Yes!” Sierra hollers and runs a victory lap around the trailer.
I go into the office and write a cheque for Lynn and sign the paperwork.
I’ve added the optional warranty as I think Sylvia will find it reassuring, and Lynn packs up all the paperwork in a big envelope.
I tell her to put Sylvia’s name on the front.
I already have a hitch on the truck, so it’s a piece of cake to hook up the trailer.
We plug in the wiring for the brake lights and Mindy offers me the cinder blocks they’d used as a foundation for the trailer in the lot.
She also has some suggestions about levelling it up and giving it a permanent base.
Sierra is taking pictures with her phone to send to Lila, but we finally get loaded up and head back to Empire.
At Una’s place, she and Sierra get out of the truck at my instruction. Sierra is bouncing in place and the sight makes me smile every time I glance in my side mirror. Una and I have discussed the perfect location, and I pull forward, change the angle and back the trailer right in.
“That’s it!” Una cries and I stop.
“Perfect the first time,” Sierra says, appearing at my window. “ How’d you do that?”
“He won’t even be able to tell you. It’s instinct,” Una says. Sierra looks between the two of us, probably about to make some conclusion about gender.
“It’s second nature when you grow up on a farm,” I explain.
“Farm kids learn to drive tractors as soon as they can reach the pedals,” Una adds.
Sierra looks between us again. “Wait. You learned to drive before you were sixteen?”
I nod. “Tractors, though, not cars or trucks.”
“All the same, really,” Una says and I shrug agreement.
“Learn to back in a trailer at that age and you never forget,” I agree.
“Like a bicycle,” Una says and we laugh together.
Sierra is looking between us. “Wait. Wait. Wait. How old were you?”
I know exactly where she’s going with this, but it’s fun to watch. “Maybe ten. Maybe nine.”
“You were probably tall for your age,” Una notes, her eyes dancing.
“Maybe eight then,” I say and we smile at each other as we wait for it.
“Eight!” Sierra’s eyes round. “I want to learn to drive a tractor, Mike.”
“We don’t have one anymore. We have bicycles. Dad has a golf cart for the greenhouses but good luck borrowing that.”
She almost pouts, but I’m not done.
I heft a cinder block out of the back of the truck and carry it to the trailer. Once it’s in place, I stand and brush off my hands. “Of course, you could always ask Rupert.”
“Would you teach me?”
“Rupert’s tractor, so Rupert’s call, but sure. If your mom agrees.”
Once again, she’s jubilant. This time I take a picture of her happy dance. I look at it for a minute, then make it my lock screen image. By the time I’m done, she’s peering over my arm, as if supervising me.
“I know how to use my phone,” I tell her.
“Not all old people do.”
“I’m not senile yet.”
She grins. “Now everyone will know,” she says with satisfaction, as if putting her on my phone makes my paternity real.
“Now everyone will know,” I agree. I send the picture to Sylvia, even though she must have zillions of pictures of Sierra herself. Sierra is watching me. “Just so she knows you’re okay.”
“She knows. I’ve been texting her all day.”
Of course. “Well, here’s something you can fix. What’s going to make this trailer look like home to your mom?”
“Fairy lights,” Sierra says without hesitation. “We always have fairy lights. They’re the first thing we put up when we move in.”
“Fairy lights, it is,” I agree.
“But our old sets are in Una’s porch now. I kinda like them there.”
“We’ll just go to Havelock and find some more then. Let’s finish the set-up first in case there’s something else we need.” I set the second cinder block in place and check that the trailer is level. Once they’re all in place, it looks good and solid. I ask Una for a level and it’s perfect.
I start to crank out the awning, and Sierra comes running with an old lawn chair from Una’s place. Una sinks into it to supervise when I realize something. I turn to Sierra. “When’s your bus?”
“Tomorrow. We have a professional development day so I’m staying a day later.”
So, Sylvia will be losing her studio day tomorrow. I’m glad she took it today, and that I was able to help with that .
Sierra drops her voice. “Una starts her next cycle of chemo tomorrow, so Mom is taking both of us to Havelock.”
“I can hear you,” Una says tartly. “Chemo doesn’t make people deaf.”
“Why would you have a PD day so close to the end of the school year?” I ask, sounding a lot like my own folks back in the day.
Una laughs. “Some things never change.”
I guess they don’t.