Page 59 of Till The Cows Come Home
The smell of coffee wafted through the kitchen as the brew began to drip, and I leaned into it, resting my elbows onthe counter, eyes closed. I focused on my inhales and exhales, willing myself to relax as the day's tasks threatened to overwhelm me, and as I took my final inhale, I felt my shoulders loosen as the sound of drips continued to hit my ears and the familiar aroma filled my senses. That's the funny thing about comfort. You don’t realize all the things grounding you until suddenly they’re no longer there. I’d never been an overly anxious person, but losing my routine and what felt like my purpose had surely been testing the thin string that now held me together.
As the drips stopped, I opened my eyes, selecting the day’s mug from the cabinet in front of me before filling it generously with the fresh brew. I took my coffee black, but the hazelnut creamer I’d bought for Sage still taunted me from inside the refrigerator. When she was around I’d add a splash to my cup as well, until eventually I was adding it even when she wasn’t around, chasing the comfort she brought even in her absence. This morning, though, I strayed away, allowing the bold bitterness to parallel my mood.
I made my way to the dining room table, taking a seat before flipping through the pages of my pad until I landed on a blank one. Scribbling on the top of the page, I wrote “To Do,” underlining it far too many times as I thought about all the things I wanted to get accomplished.
Calling insurance was at the top of my list, followed by rounding up quotes from a few different contractors. Debris ridded the property and I was half tempted to go out with a shovel, using the task to tire my muscles, but I refrained. While the temptation to con my body onto the brink of exhaustion for the slightest allowance of undisturbed rest was enticing, I didn’t know if the insurance agents would need to look at the ruin themselves, so I left it be. But I was self aware enough to know I needed a task I didn’t have to wait for, so I addedhouse cleaning to round off my list, because the disarray of my home was one stubbed toe away from causing me to rage.
My sweeping was interrupted by the vibration of my phone buzzing through my pocket. I’d spared no dusty corner or scuffed floorboard, submerging myself into the task so wholly that I hadn’t noticed we’d edged out of farm time and into normal societal business hours.
“Hello?”
Gripping the counter, I waited for the unknown number that’d displayed across the screen to introduce themselves.
“Hi, I’m looking for Miles. This is Meghan from Hillside Insurance.”
“Speaking,” I responded, holding my breath as if the most important news of my life was about to be delivered.
“I had to stop in the office for a few hours yesterday and found an envelope waiting in my mailbox. Something in my gut told me to open it, and I’m so glad I did. Turns out it was the accident report from this weekend and I wanted to touch base to offer my sympathy, but also to personally help you through the claim process if you’d like.”
“I actually planned to call this morning. I have no idea where to start, so I’ll absolutely take any help you can offer.”
“Let’s waste no time then,” she quipped, her positivity forcing me to sigh a breath of relief. “So, waiting for me was the police report and an investigation report from the fire chief, which should be all we need. Occasionally, if those findings warrant an investigation, we have to wait until that concludes, but in your case, it was ruled an accident. Just give me one moment to look through your policy to confirmyour coverage.”
She hummed, clicking on the keys of her keyboard and after what seemed like an eternity, the clicking stopped.
“Alright, Mr. Carver, thanks for being patient with me. I see that the barn and the home were insured separately. The barn was fully covered up to its appraised value of $600,000, with an additional livestock policy covering seventy percent market value of your lost herd. Your total payout is expected to be right around $640,000.”
“What about the fire?”
I understood my policy, I understood the payout, but I kept waiting for her to add a but, some fine print saying if you’re dumb enough to light a candle in a barn you don’t deserve a second chance.
“What about the fire, Mr. Carver?”
“Well, it was my fault. Does that negate any of the coverage?”
“Oh honey.” She sighed. “Accidental fires are covered under your claim and from what I gathered from the reports, it was indeed an accident. Even us insurers know that grace is needed every once in a while.”
“So now what?”
“I’m going to process the claim, approving it on my end, and in about a week, you should be able to pick up a check. In the meantime, you can arrange contractors and get blueprints drawn if you plan to rebuild. If not, you can arrange a cleanup and use the rest to start over completely.”
“Thank you,” I said once, then again a second time to ensure she knew how much I meant it, before hanging up the phone.
I had the green light.
It was time to decide the future and to do that meant it was time to dive into the past. I gathered the cleaning supplies, taking a moment to scan the now spotless home, before grabbing my keys.
“Miles,” Jane gasped as I walked through the library doors, “I didn’t expect to see you. Sage isn’t here, sweetheart.”
“I’m not looking for Sage, actually,” I mumbled, desperately trying not to allow the mere sound of her name to affect me. “I was actually hoping you could find me some local Virginia barn blueprints.”
“Oh,” her eyes lit up. “Rebuilding?”
“I think so. I promised my girls I’d bring them home.”
“All of them?” Jane questioned.
“Maybe.” I sighed, following her down the rows until reaching the section that housed the local records.
