Page 29 of Her Property

“Once a week is a lot more than many of our residents get to see their loved ones. Dementia’s just devastating all around, not least of all for the person suffering. If she does remember you, you shower her with love, would you? Heck, even if she doesn’t. You’d be doing that anyway though, wouldn’t you, love?”

He’d been warmed by Delia’s kindness, but still felt wracked with guilt. Once a week wasn’t enough when he and Gran were the only family they each had left.

When he’d sat with Gran in her room she’d seemed okay at first. She didn’t recognize him, but she didn’t question his being there either. He’d considered telling her about Cat. Even if she didn’t know who he was or what he was talking about, maybe just talking about her to someone else would ease the strange pressurized mix of feelings he had swirling around in him. But when he’d opened his mouth to speak, she looked over at him with alarm in her eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” she said. “You passed—Jakey carried you down the stone steps, I saw him!”

Jakes breath left him, as cleanly as if he’d been kicked in the gut. Gran thought he was James. She was talking about James’s funeral, when he’d helped carry James’ casket down the steps of the funeral home in Millerville. It had been Jake and the funeral home employees who carried him—Jake didn’t have any friends by that point. Or if he did, they were lost in their own shit. They probably didn’t even know he’d died.

Toward the end of the visit she’d come around, calling him by name and letting him give her a hug, but he was thrown by what had happened. So thrown he still didn’t have his head on straight back at home on the property. Gran had been living here up until this spring, albeit with some home care. She’d gone south so fast.

Jake used the last of his nails to finish this shingle, surprised he hadn’t done the whole thing backwards or inside out. Between Cat and his gran, his mind was everywhere but here. Pulling another bunch of nails from the box sitting next to him on the roof, he wondered when he should go see Cat.Ifhe should go see her. There was a purpose to him taking her into town yesterday, and everything that had happened between them was just an extension of that trip. But he had no reason to see her now that wasn’t just because he wanted to. He didn’t know how she’d take to seeing him again. She was supposed to be up here decompressing, not fucking around with the neighbor. The neighbor who her boss wanted to destroy.

Maybe he’d get up the nerve to call a lawyer next week, to get the truth about how fucked he was with this lawsuit. Maybe he’d ask Cat for a recommendation. It would be an excuse to see her again, anyway.

A stupid one. Why would she help you when she works for the person suing you?

Jake stuck a few more nails in his mouth as he laid down the next piece of shingle. He positioned his hammer and swung it down just as a twig cracked in the trees next to the mess hall.

He looked up, but his hammer finished its arc, smacking him on the edge of his thumb.

“Motherfucker!” he shouted. A bird fluttered up from the tree next to him, sending a feathery dance of orange leaves down onto the grass. He held onto his thumb, sticking it in his mouth as if that might ease the pain, while he scoured the trees for the animal that had made the noise.

The animal stepped out of the woods, looking sheepish.

Jake’s heart smacked in his chest and he almost forgot about his thumb.

“You okay?” Catherine called out.

Almost.

He sat back on his knees, bringing the throbbing digit to his mouth.

She was done up like a city person trying to look ‘outdoorsy’: a beige wool turtleneck, hiking boots that practically sparkled they looked so new, and a down vest over that.

She looked adorable.

He pulled his thumb from his lips. “I’ll survive.”

He sat there staring at her until she looked up at the surrounding trees, as if she were feeling awkward. Shit.

“Well, I’ll leave you be,” she said, turning to go.

The awkwardness was like a spike in his chest.

“No,” he said.

“No?”

Jake dropped the hammer. He backed down the roof and then the ladder, jumping before he hit the last few rungs. He strode over to where she stood, looking uneasy.

Did she even remember what had happened last night? Did she somehow not trust him? Maybe she’d talked to Alfred. Maybe he’d fed her some lies about him.

“No, we can’t talk like this,” Jake said when he’d closed the distance between them. He tucked his work gloves into his tool belt. “Not after yesterday.”

Color rose in her cheeks. She looked down. “I’m sorry, I just… I spoke to Alfred and… I don’t think I should be talking to you. Considering everything between the two of you. Whatever it is.”

Jake’s jaw worked as if it had a mind of his own. “Did you tell him what happened?”

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