Chapter 36
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kim
Kim sits next to Danika in the reception of Doodson and Lee. She smooths her long skirt over her knees with damp palms. Next to her, Danika flicks through a magazine. Out of the corner of her eye, Kim sees her pause on an article about the Duchess of Sussex’s life in California.
“Is that the article about Meghan joining the fire service? I think she’d look good in high-vis orange.”
Danika looks up. “Er, yes.”
Kim nudges her. “You haven’t read a word of that, have you?
Bella’s more likely to join the fireys than the Duchess of Sussex.
” She takes Danika’s hand. “It will be okay. We trust Alan. And if we don’t like what he’s come up with, then we negotiate between ourselves with Alan as mediator. That’s what he said.”
Danika worries the hem of her slim skirt with her free hand. “That’s what worries me. What if we can’t agree? What if, despite everything, it’s an unfair split?”
Alan enters reception. “Danika, Kim, it’s good to see you again. Come on through.” If he notices their joined hands, he doesn’t show it.
Kim sits, and her hands twist the cotton of her skirt. She wants to hold Danika’s hand again, but now, in this formal setting, where they are… What are they? Not opponents, not on opposite sides, but with different approaches to the same outcome. Holding hands would not be appropriate here.
Alan spends a few minutes attempting to put them at their ease, and although he’s warm, empathic, offers coffee, water, and tells them he’s set aside all day for them, and that his assistant has arranged sandwiches for lunch, Kim’s tension doesn’t abate.
It’s one thing to think of dividing the money in the abstract, another when it’s actual dollars being shuffled around like a busy day on Wall Street.
Worse, too, that the shuffle is in one direction: out of Danika’s pocket into her own.
“Your situation isn’t as uncommon as you may think,” Alan says.
“There are other cases where a person has been exposed as having a secret family after their death. What is unusual is that both of you are willing to work together, taking an ethical and fair approach. In most cases like yours, the primary family—that’s you, Danika, by virtue of being first”—Alan flashes an apologetic smile at Kim—“is the one who inherits, unknowing of the second, and the second family challenges the will.
In Australia, a de facto partner has as much claim as a legally married one.
Had the court known about Kim and Bella at the time of the grant of Letters of Administration, it is likely that they would have divided the estate equally between the two of you, with Camille and Bella receiving nothing, or a minimal amount.
“While unethical, what Chris did isn’t illegal in Australia. As Kim and Chris didn’t legally marry, the court considers it adultery, not bigamy, and adultery isn’t a crime.”
Kim glances at Danika. Her face gives nothing away; she’s concentrating on Alan, a wrinkle between her eyes.
“So our proposed solution is actually the way a court would have gone had it had the information at the time?” Danika asks.
“Most likely, yes. And had you, Danika, not been willing to try the informal approach, then Kim could have contested the will. Although with the estate being settled…”
Kim tunes out. Alan’s rich voice, one used to commanding a courtroom, is compelling, and it’s reassuring to know she is legally in the right taking money from Danika.
But… But…
Her chest buzzes with questions, but what’s overwhelming her is a panicky feeling of how wrong this is.
Static fills her head, and although she’s aware Alan is answering a question from Danika, she can’t hear them.
Their mouths are moving, but there’s no sound except the white noise pounding in her head, swelling like an incoming tide, then crashing to shore in a burst of static.
She’s taking money from Danika, who will almost certainly have to sell her house.
Alan is shuffling the asset lists from her and Danika on the desk in front of him, and she’s sure he’s winding up the introduction and is about to start talking figures.
The asset lists were easy for her. She just took the templates she used in her work and modified them to suit, but she knows Danika sweated and agonised over hers.
Danika’s list is longer. A lot longer. Kim’s seen it—they swapped before sending them to Alan.
That was understandable. Danika and Chris were together longer than Kim and Chris.
They had a house, not a small apartment.
Danika brought less to their relationship than Kim had to hers.
Kim’s fingers shake, and she clenches harder on the material. “Please can you wait one moment? I need water.” She leans across the conference table, picks up the glass jug. Her fingers fumble, nerveless, as if they’re not part of her anymore.
The jug falls from her hand, hits the stone table and falls on its side. There’s a long crack along the base of the jug, and water cascades out, spreading over the table in a sheet, dripping to the floor.
Alan snatches his papers out of the flood and stands.
He takes one look at Kim’s face—she must look horrified, stricken.
Obviously panicking. “Don’t worry, Kim. These jugs are heavier than they look.
” He deposits the papers on a credenza and picks up a desk phone.
“Lainey, please can you ask someone to come to Conference Room One to clean up a water spill? What other conference rooms are free?” He waits for the answer.
“I understand. In that case, I’ll move the mediation to my office. ”
Kim is frozen in her chair. Water drips from the table onto her skirt, soaking the front of it. She grips the material, but otherwise she can’t move. Not won’t, but can’t. Her breath wheezes in shallow pants, and she struggles to suck air into her tight chest.
Danika rises, comes to Kim and drops to her haunches in front of her.
Gently, she frees the twisted material from Kim’s clenched fingers, then takes Kim’s fist in both her hands.
Her thumbs stroke over the back of it. “You’re safe; I’ve got you.
Concentrate on your breathing. I’m not going anywhere. ”
Alan stands out of Kim’s view. “Do you need me to call anyone? Medical assistance?”
Kim shakes her head. The spiral of panic engulfs her, and she grips onto Danika’s hand, the steadiest thing here.
“Are you asthmatic?” Danika asks.
Kim shakes her head again. Danika’s hands are the only solid, safe thing in the room.
“Tell me five things you can see,” Danika says.
Kim struggles to focus, to draw breath, but recognises the grounding technique. “Table. Files. Vase. Telephone.” She meets Danika’s eyes. “You.”
“Now tell me four things you can hear.”
“Air con. Voices outside. Clock.” She holds Danika’s gaze. “You.”
As Danika takes her through the rest of the exercise, Kim’s breathing steadies. Her chest eases its grip, and she can breathe more deeply. “I’m okay.”
Alan’s gaze flickers over her, assessing. “If you wish, we can continue this another day.”
“I don’t know,” Kim says.
“If you want to continue, we’ll move to my office.
Take your time, and when you’re ready, let Lainey at the front desk know what you want to do.
There’s no rush at all.” He leaves, closing the door gently behind him, and his voice murmurs to someone outside the door to wait until the room is empty before mopping up.
Danika doesn’t ask questions. She simply stays there, her fingers twisted in Kim’s, her presence solid, reassuring.
Gradually the band around Kim’s chest loosens, and she’s aware of her soaked skirt, the mess she’s made on the table, the damp carpet. She releases Danika’s fingers and stands, then goes over to the window, looks down on the lines of traffic crawling along Springvale Road.
Danika comes to stand next to her. “We can leave. Go for a walk. Have lunch. Talk about anything other than this. Or you can go by yourself.”
“It’s not you.” Kim’s mouth is dry, and she longs for water.
She feels around for the words she wants to say, words she’s not even sure about.
“When Alan started talking about how legally I had a claim, I should have felt vindicated, that I was doing the right thing. But all I could think was that I was taking so much from you. Not just money. But everything that has underpinned your life for the last twelve years. I can’t do that, Danika. ”
“Remember that while you have the law on your side, I also offered this. I want this.”
“You’ll have to sell your house.”
Danika’s mouth quirks up. “Then isn’t it lucky my mum is a real estate agent. She won’t charge me commission.”
Kim’s laugh cracks in the middle. “It’s your house. Your security. Your everything.”
“It was, once. Not anymore.” Danika grips Kim’s shoulder and turns her away from the window so they’re facing each other.
“My security is the people I love: Cami, Mum and Dad. You. My friends. It’s not in bricks.
I loved that house, but not anymore. I want to go somewhere different, away from the memories of Chris.
I want to start making new memories. My people are my everything, and I hope they’ll stick with me. ”
Kim struggles to process Danika’s words. She doesn’t care about the house. She cares about the people she loves. She replays Danika’s list in her mind: Cami, Mum and Dad. You.
Danika said she loves her.
Love.
No. She can’t think about that now. Not when they’re in a smart lawyer’s office, paying a small fortune an hour for Alan’s time. Now is not the time to wonder about love, when her skirt is dripping onto plush carpet, and Alan is waiting for them to continue the mediation.
But I can’t do this.
Danika stares at her, and Kim tries to read her face. Is she waiting for Kim to say the words back? Does Danika even mean it?
“I don’t want to continue with the mediation,” she says. “I don’t want to continue at all.”
Danika’s mouth forms an O. “But we’ve—”
“I don’t want to sue, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Kim licks her dry lips. “But I can’t take money from you. I don’t want to. And I don’t need it, not really. I have my apartment. My business supports Bella and me. I don’t need more.”
“But it’s for Bella.” Danika frowns. “Remember you’re doing this for Bella, too.”
“And I will.” Kim takes a deep breath. It still rasps, but at least she can breathe again.
Her way forward is becoming clear, but she wants to be sure before she says it.
And did Danika say she loves me? That’s there, humming away at the forefront of her mind.
But it doesn’t change what is becoming clearer every second.
She closes her eyes, lets it sit. Is it necessary?
Does it feel good? Does it bring her joy?
She snorts a laugh; here she is employing decluttering techniques to possibly the most important decision of her life.
She opens her eyes again. “I’m not going to take the even split we talked about.”
Danika opens her mouth—to argue most likely—but Kim holds up her hand. “I’ll take an amount for Bella equal to that which Cami has. That will go into an account for Bella just as it has for Cami. But I don’t want more than that.”
“That’s not right,” Danika says. “You’re entitled to it—morally, ethically, and, it turns out, legally. Why would you not take it?”
“It feels wrong.” That’s all she can say. Danika’s right—she should take the money. But it feels wrong. And that, to her, is the final answer. “Let’s go to Alan and tell him what we’ve decided.”
“No.” Danika folds her arms. “That’s a unilateral decision you’ve made, one I don’t agree with. You don’t have that right.”
“You can’t force me to accept money!”
“And you can’t force me to keep money that morally, ethically and legally is not mine!”
For long moments they stare at each other.
Danika’s arms are folded, shoulders hunched, and a fierce expression.
And her posture is the same, Kim realises.
She, too, is frowning. With an effort, she relaxes, and the absurdity of the situation creeps up on her.
She chuckles, and it morphs into a full belly laugh.
“Listen to us. We’re arguing the opposite positions of what you would expect. ”
Danika’s eyes widen, and a smile twitches. “We are.” She shakes her head. “Who’d have thought it?”
Kim moves up to her again, takes her hand, pulls her close, enough that their bodies touch.
“Before, you said you loved me. I was on that love list, up there with Cami and your parents. I don’t know what you meant by it, what type or strength of love you meant, but I heard that you love me.
And I love you too, Danika. And while I wonder if you love me as a friend, as a strange family member, or in a romantic, sexual, partner type of way, right now it doesn’t matter. You, Danika, love me, Kim.”
She takes a breath, the words thundering in her chest. “And I, Kim, love you, Danika. And so that you don’t wonder, know that I love you as my family, as my friend, and I love you romantically, sexually, and in a relationship kind of way.
You don’t have to answer me. And this is not the reason I don’t want to continue with the mediation.
I just want you to know.” She looks down at their joined hands.
There’s a moment of silence. When she glances back at Danika, she’s frozen, eyes wide, disbelief scrawled on her face. Disbelief? That isn’t the reaction she’d hoped for.
But then Danika lunges forward, and her hands frame Kim’s face, fingers pushing into her hair. “I love you. In all those ways. And more. I love you in ways that I don’t have words for. But you, Kim, you are my love. Don’t ever doubt it.”
And then they are kissing, and it’s magical, and there are stars, and it’s like coming into the sunlight at the end of a sleepless night, when problems are less, and the way forward is suddenly clear.
They kiss for long moments, tender kisses, affirming their love.
Gentle lips, mouths moving, whispering words between kisses, sharing the love between them so that it settles into Kim’s soul, sifting slowly down like sand through water, until it becomes Kim’s bedrock.
After an age, they ease apart.
“We should go to Alan,” Kim says. “I’ll tell him what I want; you tell him what you want. We put our cases to him. And we let him decide. How does that sound?”
Danika sucks her lip, thinks. Then she nods.