Chapter 32: Chapter 32

The Gang picks up my mood, milling around. Archie bounces about, yapping excitedly until Meg snaps at him and he sheers off. Then as the four play at rough-and-tumble under the table, Scruffy joins them and I snap. “Quiet! All of you!”

The dogs subside and assemble under the desk, panting. Ryan stares at me. “Kirstie?”

I shouldn’t have done that.

They’re only enjoying themselves…

Too much wine...

That’s what I tell myself anyway. “I’ll be back in a while. I’m taking the dogs out.”

He starts to rise from the chair. “I’ll keep you company.”

I shake my head. “No, it’s alright.” He stares after me as I exit the study.

Wrapping a thick scarf around my neck and tugging mittens onto hands, I call the dogs and once more they bounce jubilantly after me as I head outdoors.

I gasp at the frigid wall of air as I open the door. The Gang don’t seem to notice, tumbling out into the snow as I carefully pull the door closed behind me.

The icy air and brilliant sunshine are an instant antidote to my ill mood. Around me lies a vast sparkling snowscape, covering grass and shrub and tree, rolling down the mountain to where even the lake lies as a single glistening sheet.

What do I have to be miserable about?

Really?

I pace up and down in the snow, watching the dogs playing, racing around in silly circles, barking joyously.

What’s wrong with me?

Just nerves?

Self-analysis isn’t easy. Sometimes one must face unpleasant truths.

Is it just nerves?

Just anxiety about the biggest purchase I’m ever likely to make?

Or is it more?

Ryan…

I was single for years. Happily so.

And then Ryan appeared in my life.

I love you.

But do I want to be bound to you?

Mac digs into the snow, his paws a blur as he excavates a hole, spraying snow backwards and covering Meg and Archie. They’re so happy.

Why can’t I catch that mood from them?

Something prickles at the back of my neck and I jolt to a stop.

I’m being watched…

…

Don’t be ridiculous…

Cautiously, I scan around.

James said Baxter is still out there…

Is he watching us?

Then the freakingly fucking obvious strikes me.

That’s why Klempner’s still here…

Something shifts on the edges of my vision and I whirl…

And there, silently watching me, is Charlotte’s father. His face impassive, Klempner stands at the back of the terrace, leaning against the wall, cradling a steaming mug as he watches the canine tomfoolery.

I feel a complete idiot. “Oh, sorry. I didn't mean to disturb you.”

He smiles pleasantly. “You're not disturbing me. I just wanted some air.”

“Yes, me too. It’s all a bit…” I wave my hands uselessly, not knowing how to express my…

My what?

I don’t know.

He regards me for a moment then, “Is something wrong?”

“I’m fine. Just a bit… out of sorts.” His brows rise, as though waiting for me to keep speaking. For some reason, I want to fill the silence. “There’s a lot happening all of a sudden.”

He nods slowly, pursing his lips. “So there is.”

It dawns on me that perhaps there’s a reason I’m not the only one outside in the bitter cold.

Why is he out here by himself?

“Are you alright?”

He shrugs, his smile depreciating, scuffing into the snow with the end of a boot. “Yes, I'm fine too.”

Then he straightens up, his smile turning brighter. “No, I'm good. It's just that when I accepted the invitation to Christmas, I didn't really know what to expect. I thought all that…” He waves back in towards the house… “… stuff just came out of movies. Holly and trees and mulled wine… I never believed it was real.” He sips at his drink. “The whole Christmas family thing… is wonderful and they're making me very welcome, but it's all rather new to me.

He sips again. “To tell the truth, I find it all a bit baffling.”

“Christmas is important,” I say. “It's important to Charlotte, certainly. I don't think she's had very many good Christmases.”

He stares down into his mug. “No, she hasn't.”

And I remember who I'm talking to. That this solitary, silent man, is Lawrence Klempner: murderer, terrorist, slaver. Charlotte's terrifying father.

Still, he seems civilised enough.

And he’s someone to talk to.

Someone who’s not too close…

“What happened?” I ask.

He blinks. “James invited me to stay for Christmas. You have a problem with that?”

“No, of course not. It's their home. They can invite whoever they want. But it's not what I meant. I meant, what happened to you? I mean, you’re Lawrence Klempner…” His lips quirk… “… And yet here you are helping to decorate a tree with Christmas bunnies. You don't seem like...”

I stall as I realise both the gross ill-manners of my question and the possible consequences of my asking it…

But I’ve started, so I finish… “…like what I expected.”

His voice is mild, tinged with amusement. “What you expected? Yes, in fact I do only have the one head.”

My cheeks burn…

He huffs a laugh. “James did mention that you're apt to let your mouth run away with you.”

Oh… Jeez…

“Okay, he's right. I'm sorry. It was rude of me to speak like that.”

He sighs, staring out over the snow. “Ask Jenny. She can tell you what happened between us. And you can tell her I gave permission for her to say.” His eyes rise to mine. “I’m not about to take offence. What you imply is perfectly true.”

“Oh… Are you going to tell me your bark is worse than your bite?”

“Ah... no…” He inhales, but the amusement is back in his eyes. “I think you'll find my bite is very much worse than my bark. But it's not aimed at you, Kirstie. You went out of your way to help Jenny. That's all I need to know.”

He rubs his chin, then, “I wanted to thank you for your part in everything that’s happened. Not just the recent events. But before, when you raised the alarm with Ben.”

“Charlotte's my friend. James and Michael too. Of course I helped.”

He Hmmms, then, “Is it right that Ben was your boyfriend for a while?”

I blow air. “Boyfriend? No, not really. I dated him a couple of times, but it was never going to be a long-

term thing. And besides, the man had a screw loose.”

He raises eyes to the blue above. “Can’t disagree with you there.” He nods towards my bounding, barking excited pack. “Why so many dogs? If you don’t mind my asking?”

I laugh. “Why indeed? I never meant to end up with four. But they’re all rescues. They turned up one at a time in different ways. And I’ve always felt that if I help where I can, when it's my turn to need help, I'll be able to ask for it.”

He sucks in his cheeks, setting his mug down on a side wall. “Life doesn't make those kinds of deals.”

“I know that. But in my head it's real, and that's what counts.”

He nods; slowly, as though thinking. Then, “Y’know, I’m standing out here in the cold because I’m not naturally very social. What’s your excuse? Why are you out here, when it's all going on...” He jerks a thumb indoors… “…in there?”

“Like I said, I needed some air…”

And as if he’d given me the cue…

… No… the permission… to speak, it all comes spilling out…

“… Everything that’s happening,” I say. “It's all a bit overwhelming. I mean, the Mill… It’s an amazing place. It’s absolutely stunning. But I'm signing up to a huge mortgage. And I’m scared I can’t afford it.

And even if I can, there’s years of work. What if I'm wrong? Suppose it doesn't work out?”

“Work out?” Klempner frowns, folding his arms. “With your Ryan you mean? You say you are signing up to a mortgage… But surely it’s the pair of you?”

“Well… yes… but it’s still the same. What if it doesn’t work?”

His lips quirk. “You realise I am possibly the worst person in the world for you to ask that question?”

Of course, he’s right. I don’t know what to say. I inspect my own footprints. There’s a crack showing in one of them…

After a pause, Klempner says, “You want him, don’t you? Ryan?”

“Of course I do.”

“And you want a place of your own? Something you can make your own?”

I nod against half-frozen face muscles. “Oh, yes. I do.”

“So…” He raises palms and eyes to heaven… “What’s the problem?”

A fair question…

What is the problem?