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And damn if that’s not inspiring.
“I’ll phone the lawyer, but I don’t think that contract says anything about divorce,” I blurt.
“What?” She swipes at her eyes with her knuckles.
“We get married. We’ll meet everything the contract says. But then, after that, we get a divorce. Our grandparents can’t disown our parents then, and everyone would be fine. No one would get written out of the will. We could just do it and undo it, simple as that.”
Nina laughs shakily and looks at me like the blenderdidexplode and shoot spoon shrapnel into my brain. What I’m suggesting is crazy. I don’t know why I’m even suggesting it, just that I don’t want her to cry anymore. It’s more than just the tears. It’s the sadness that I can tell is eating away at her. She has a good heart. Way too good to be ruined by something like this and far, far too beautiful to be crushed under the weight of guilt she’d probably feel for a lifetime.
“That’s very sweet of you.” She sounds like a fresh breeze sweeping through a humid and sticky kitchen late at night when the world breathes a sigh of relief that the heat is starting to let up. “But our grandparents can still do whatever they want. They can write anyone out of their will for any reason or choose to cut anyone off. I thought about a fake marriage last night, crazy as that sounds, but then I also figured it’s not really a solution. Unless the contract explicitly states that if we got married, they could never write anyone out. But then they’d probably be all spiteful at getting the short end of the stick and being played that they’d leave just one dollar or one cent to prove a point.”
“I guess that’s probably true,” I agree with a sigh.
“I’m just going to have to keep telling myself that this is their decision, and I have very little to do with it because my freedom is worth more than their random wishes and schemey scheme scheme machinations.”
I can’t help it. I start to rusty-hinge-style laugh. I have to. It’s the way she says machinations, with all the potent fury of someone who was a pawn in her family’s wishes long before she was even born.
Her bottom lip does all sorts of wobbles, and before she thinks I’m laughingather, I step forward and pull her into a hug. She looks like she needs one right now, so I don’t think about it. I just act.
It’s just a light hug, not a big bear hug kind of deal that will squish her to me. I pause once my arms are around her, wondering what on earth it is that I think I’m doing. Now I’m going around forcing hugs, and I’m afraid that maybe I moved way too fast, and she doesn’t want this. Me, of all people. I’m not a hugger. But this? And the way Nina leans into me like this is exactly what she needs? It makes my chest do a funny thing, and my soul feels like a sharp, hot ache in my chest. I realize ache isn’t the right word, but it’s hard to describe the beam of light I feel. Kind of painful and kind of not-so-painful all at once.
I never once felt anything like this with Janet, my ex. Or with anyone else. She never made my soul sing. I just thought that maybe I had a mute soul. A soul that didn’t know the notes. I thought we’d be fine because everyone makes up things about souls and romance, and most of it is just commercial and overrated and unrealistic anyway.
I have to pull back before my heart can start beating way too hard and before I take notice of and read into it. Nina heaves a sigh as I let her go and step back. It rushes straight through my blood until I feel giddy and jittery.
“You know what I do when I’m feeling off?” I ask, attempting to distract myself.
“Do I want to know?”
I don’t know whether I should be horrified or amused. My lips twitch in an upright direction when I reply, “I go out and pet the sheep. Or the donkey. The cats and dog too. I start with the sheep, though, and everyone else finds me after.”
Nina brightens right before me, which makes my chest do another squeeze. I feel an answering brightness taking root there as if her happiness is actually contagious. When I breathe in, it’s suddenly harder for my lungs to work.
“You’d let me pet your sheep?”
“I would,” I respond with a slight nod.
Her smile makes me feel like I’ve been stripped down. Not humiliated, but slightly vulnerable, and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because this is my life, and she’s here inside it, no matter how hard I always try to keep her out. She was just a concept then, but she’s real now, and I should be doing everything in my power to keep my distance for the next week until she leaves. I shouldn’t be offering hugs and also my sheep for her to pet.
Nevertheless, twenty minutes later, we’re standing outside and surrounded by sheep.
As soon as I let them out of the barn, they make a beeline for the green grass. Even if they don’t want to munch on it, they just like being outside to enjoy the early morning sunshine. The day promises to be hot, and even though they already had their spring shearing, anything with a pulse is going to feel the wrath of the sun as soon as it rolls around to midday.
“Wow.” Nina runs her fingers through the short wool. Dinah is a sweet sheep—one of the older ones. When I bought the flock, I got them all at once from someone who wanted to get out of having them, and I got a mix of young and old. I don’t know their exact age for sure, but I’d say Dinah is one of the more senior sheep. The younger ones actually look to her to see how to behave, and she’s always so calm and friendly. It’s no wonder she went straight over to Nina. “She’s so soft.” That look of wonder on Nina’s face sparks something inside my soul again.
Gerald, who isn’t calm or patient, comes running up to me. I think he’s going to headbutt me because he has that devious glint in his eyes, but then he stops and lowers his head to rub it against me instead. I stroke his black face. I don’t know what their previous owner had going on, but there’s way more than just one type of sheep here. Gerald is the only one with a dark face, and he’s also a freaking giant compared to most of the others. He bleats affectionately as I rub his closed eyes.
“Aww. He likes it.” Nina does the same thing to Dinah, who leans into the pets. “I can’t believe they let you do this.”
“When I first got them, they wouldn’t, but they trust me now.”
“But they don’t even know me.”
That’s right. They don’t. Maybe they can sense a gentle soul when they see one. Or maybe they want to borrow a little bit of Nina’s sunshine for themselves while soaking up the rays from the sky.
“I think animals can sense a gentle soul.”
Dinah finally gives a loud bleatingbaaaaaaaaaalike she’s in full agreement with that. “She’s a very special sheep.” Nina’s hands massage her ears again. “Which ones are…oh. Never mind. I was going to ask which ones you get the cheese from, but I think I can tell. The ones with the lambs running around?”
