Read The Girl and Her Ren Page 41


  My skin prickled with warning as John looked at me. “It’s tradition, don’t you think, that the father—or at least, pretend father of the bride, gives a gift on their wedding day?”

  “John…” I warned. “What did you do?”

  “What?” He blinked innocently.

  He wasn’t innocent.

  Smiling, he raised his voice. “Cassie, darlin’? I forgot the file. Do you mind?”

  “Not at all.” Cassie leapt to her feet, earning a screech from Nina for disrupting the puzzle, then practically skipped into the kitchen where she placed a blue folder in front of her dad, kissed his white hair, then winked at me.

  My nervousness blew into all-out alert. “What exactly is going on?”

  “You’ll see.” Cassie blew Della a kiss, then went to sit with her daughter.

  “John?” My eyebrow rose as the big man opened the file and smoothed out the papers with a hairy hand.

  “Hold your horses, Ren. Give me a moment to find the right words.”

  “What words?”

  “The words to tell you what I did and make you somehow accept it, without getting all high and mighty.”

  “Oh, for God’s sake.” I crossed my arms. “If this gift is more than just a bottle of wine then I’m not accepting it.”

  “Wind your neck in, Ren.” John pointed a finger in my face. “Just ’cause you’re sick—” He cut himself off with a terrified wince. “God, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “It’s fine.” I forced myself to relax and take the blame. “My fault. I’m winding you up.”

  Della scooted forward, placing a dainty hand on John’s massive wrist. “He’s the one being an ass. Take all the time you want and don’t worry about his reaction.” Her blue eyes met mine with a sharp glare. “I’ll deal with him.”

  “You’ll deal with me?”

  “Yep.” She stuck her chin in the air.

  “Just because I married you doesn’t mean I obey you, Mrs Wild.”

  “Oh, yeah?” She tried to stop a smile. “Well, I’ll just have to beat you until you do.”

  “I’d like to see you try.”

  Lust sprung hotly.

  Della averted her eyes, cheeks pinked and skin flushed.

  John groaned. “Ever since that phone call from your oncologist yesterday, you’ve been incorrigible, Ren.”

  I shrugged, no longer caring what he was about to do. “What can I say? I’m the happiest guy alive.”

  No one mentioned the part of that sentence that lingered in the dark.

  I’m the happiest guy alive…for now.

  I could joke and laugh and be truly happy that I’d bought myself more time, but I also couldn’t deny that the awful word still existed.

  Incurable.

  “Right, well, before you two disappear into the forest to do God knows what, I’ve done something.” He laid his hand firmly on the folder like a judge would a gavel. “I’ve told you that I love you as much as I love my own kids. You are my kids. There is no difference. And because of that…I couldn’t not do what I’ve done, if that makes sense.”

  “Your cryptic reply is not helping my ability to stay calm, John,” I muttered, doing my best to read the papers his hand obscured. “What exactly is going on?”

  “Having you guys back here, knowing the farm will be taken care of and that you’re both happy and safe…that’s a gift for me, do you understand? It’s a gift because I saw where you guys came from, and I feel as if I played some small part in getting you this far.”

  “You did,” I said fiercely. “Without you, I would’ve died of pneumonia.”

  “Without you, we wouldn’t have trusted anyone or been fit to be around society,” Della murmured.

  “Well, I’m glad. But you’re both stronger and braver than you give yourselves credit for, so I won’t take all the praise.” He looked down at the table, refusing to meet my eyes. “What I will do, though, is take your word that you’ll accept this.”

  “Accept what?” My back stiffened, muscles locking.

  “Give me your word.” He narrowed his eyes. “Before I tell you.”

  “Not going to happen.” I crossed my arms.

  “Della?” John turned to her. “Give me your word, sweetie, seeing as that stubborn husband of yours won’t.”

  “I won’t risk his temper.” She laughed. “Best spit it out. Otherwise, Ren will just snatch what you’re hiding and find out anyway.”

  She’s right.

  I was seconds away from stopping this charade.

  John chuckled. “You’re probably right. Look at the man.”

  They both looked at me, twin expressions of affection and exasperation.

  I scowled harder. “Ganging up on me won’t make me take this any easier.”

  John laughed again, before slipping back into seriousness. “I changed my Will and Testament.”

  My heart stopped beating. The ruckus in the lounge quietened as the adults tuned in to listen. “Excuse me?” I leaned forward, ever so slowly. As methodical as a viper. “What did you say?”

  John puffed out his barrel chest. “I asked Adam, Liam, and Cassie before I did it, and they’re all on board. Don’t think for a moment there is any bad blood about this, or that it can be taken away from you in the future. Because it can’t.”

  “You’re terrifying me.” I swallowed hard. “What. Did. You. Do. John?” My teeth chopped every word.

  His chin cocked, daring me to challenge him. “I split the farm five ways.”

  “What?” I shot to my feet. “What does that mean?”

  “It means, Cassie has a fifth for her horse business, Adam has a fifth to do what he wants, Liam has a fifth for his interests, Della has a fifth, and you…well, you, Ren, you have a fifth, too. Just because Patty and I only gave birth to three kids doesn’t mean we don’t have five in our hearts. Our Will didn’t include you guys, and now, it does. You each have fifty acres. It’s a decision I needed to make. And it’s a decision you have to accept because I’m not changing it.”

  Della started to cry beside me. “Y-you can’t do that. It’s too much.”

  “No, sweetheart.” John reached across and wiped away a tear, his large hand almost smothering her entire cheek. “It’s not nearly enough. I know you and Ren will protect this farm and work it the way it’s meant to. If Adam and Liam want to sell out at some point, buy their shares and claim it for your own.” He flicked a glance at Cassie. “I know my daughter won’t be going anywhere, not now there’s help on hand with her horses, and I love that Chip has entered the family business by running the books. I have no doubt between all of you, you’ll make this land earn its keep ten times over.”

  I’d gone silent.

  Words had vanished.

  Anger twisted with guilt and fired into rage.

  Della shook her head. “But it’s not fair Ren and I get a piece each. Just give us one.”

  “No. You were two people before you became one. It’s already drawn up.” Sliding a stapled together document, he smiled. “See? You’re listed as my inheritors, but the farm is officially yours now. I want to retire and enjoy my grandbabies. I don’t want to be up at dawn anymore, but I also don’t want to leave this place. You’re allowing me to stay while doing all the hard yards for me.”

  I still hadn’t said anything.

  Didn’t know how.

  Didn’t know if I wanted to yell, kill him, or burst into goddamn tears.

  He’d not only given me land but a future I’d been desperate to give to Della. He’d provided for us when that was my job.

  It felt like charity.

  It felt like a slap in the fucking face.

  Did he do this because I was dying?

  Did he do this because he thought I couldn’t give Della what she deserved?

  My temper steadily grew until John looked up and made eye contact with me.

  And he knew.

  He knew what I struggled with because despite not being my
true father, we were more alike than we thought.

  “I’m not stupid, Ren. I know what you’re thinking. You think I did this because of your diagnosis—”

  “You don’t know a thing about me—”

  “Wrong.” He stood, squaring off with me. “I know what it’s like to love someone so much your only wish is to keep them safe. I know what it’s like to fear their future if you’re not in it. I know what it’s like—” His voice broke, and his fists balled before he growled. “I know what it’s like to face a future without the person you love, and it’s so hard, Ren.”

  I vibrated with the urge to hit him.

  He made me feel weak and wanting. Made me feel selfish for dying before I’d provided for Della—that I wouldn’t be able to pave her future the best I could so she could walk safely ahead without me.

  I was sad for him for losing Patricia.

  Of course, I was.

  But our situations were entirely different.

  “I don’t need your charity, John,” I hissed. “I don’t need you putting words in my mouth—”

  “No, you need to accept that this isn’t about you. It has nothing to do with you and has everything to do with love. I love you, Ren. And knowing what you’re going through, it cuts me up inside. Out of anyone, you did not deserve this. You didn’t deserve any of it. Not when you were a kid and not now.”

  My nostrils flared; my teeth grated together. “I’ll survive. I always do.”

  “I know that. But I also know that love can be as much of a destroyer as it can be a gift. I didn’t do this out of charity. I did it because you deserve it. You and Della. And I did it for me because I want you here. I don’t want you to leave again. I want my farm looked after for years to come.

  “But I’m also realistic that eventually, you won’t be able to work the fields anymore. Your energy levels will mean you’ll have to hire people. It’s a responsibility and one that will be yours until your dying day. That isn’t charity, Ren. That’s reality, and I’m giving it to you, knowing you can cope with it.”

  His gaze fell on Della, who stood taut and stressed, watching us scream at each other. “I’ll be beside you every step of this, Della. Ren has the hard part of battling this disease, but you have the hardest part by being left behind. I miss Patty every day. And I would never put that on anyone, especially someone so young.”

  Della broke into tears, running into his arms.

  I couldn’t move.

  Glued to the floor.

  Confused and lost and howling.

  I would never be prepared to say goodbye to Della and leave her alone like Patty had left John. I wished I could take back my wish to die before her and man up and take that agony on her behalf.

  She had the worst part of this.

  Her pain wouldn’t stop like mine on my dying day.

  Her pain would continue, year after year, forever.

  Fucking hell.

  The urge to vomit prickled my skin with heat.

  The diabolical, unchangeable, grief-stricken knowledge that I couldn’t change any of this.

  I couldn’t stop it.

  I couldn’t refuse it.

  None of this was new.

  But, somehow, John had made it all so much more real.

  I was trapped inside a body that had condemned me, and as much as I raged and begged for a solution—any solution—I wouldn’t get free of my fate.

  I clenched my jaw as caustic tears stung my eyes.

  Yesterday, I’d married Della and felt as if my world was complete. Today, I wished she’d never met me so I could protect her—like I was born to protect her—and never break her heart this way.

  I could call every specialist. I could research every study. I could try every drug, treatment, and experiment, hoping, always hoping, praying, threatening, bribing, selling my soul for a chance…one chance…but eventually…

  Eventually, Della would be on her own.

  And I’d be screaming in the void, yelling in perpetuity, pounding on the veil of this world and the next, desperate for Della to hear me. For her to know I might have gone, but I would never leave her. I would haunt her. I would be beside her when she slept and next to her when she moved on.

  I would be there always because I couldn’t accept anything less.

  John looked over Della’s head, his arms tight around her.

  He followed where my thoughts had spiralled and gave me the saddest smile. A smile that said he understood. That he’d hold my wife when I was gone. That he would protect her when I couldn’t.

  He nodded. He vowed. He made me grateful as well as furious.

  Then John’s face slipped from understanding into the authoritative I-don’t-take-any-shit farmer I knew. His voice was harsh and hard and almost cold in its delivery. “You will accept this, Ren. You will be happy about this.”

  I didn’t know if he spoke about his oath to protect what was mine, the inevitability of my death, or the land he tried to stuff into my hands.

  “This is merely a gift from one man to his son and daughter.” John’s temper simmered. “I’m not stepping on your toes or doubting that you can make a fortune for yourself. I’m not stopping you from living the life you want. If you don’t want it? Fine, sell it. I don’t care. Because it’s yours. You earned it fair and square every day you broke sweat toiling in those meadows. You earned it the day you proved what a great kid you are. So don’t you dare argue with me on this. Don’t you motherfucking dare.”

  His voice broke again before he let Della go and grabbed another piece of paper. With a huff, he threw the document across the table to me. “Oh, and before you say anything, this is also for you.”

  I caught the fluttering piece of paper mid-air. My hands shook as I scanned the form and the rage, despair, and absolute dread at facing a future I didn’t want disappeared.

  My temper exploded in a bomb of gratitude.

  Gratitude I didn’t know how to stop, show, or share.

  “Fuck,” I grunted as I stroked the headline from the local building authority, approving a residential dwelling to be erected on the newly subdivided land of Cherry River Farm.

  A home with planning permission on the two sections belonging to Mr. and Mrs Wild.

  I could hate John.

  I could hate myself.

  But I couldn’t hate true goodness and generosity.

  Lurching around the table, I stood before his large bulk.

  A cough fell from my lips.

  A cough followed by another, thanks to the stress in my blood and the harsh breathing in my lungs.

  And John let me cough.

  He didn’t flinch or look away as if I were a walking corpse already.

  He merely waited.

  Father Time himself, giving me every second I needed.

  And once I finished coughing, his eyes widened in surprise as I pulled him into a hug. A hug full of violence and fists and curses. But a hug, nevertheless. “Goddamn you, John,” I muttered into his ear. “Goddamn you for everything.”

  He merely patted my back and said, “You’re welcome.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-EIGHT

  DELLA

  * * * * * *

  2022

  THE NIGHT REN told me he was sick, my world fell apart.

  But…I also fell into something else too.

  They said love had the power to make you become someone better than you were, but adversity and hardship revealed the truth about who you were at heart.

  Nothing was truer than that.

  I learned I had the power to say no to my tears whenever Ren coughed. I had the ability to laugh and stay light, even knowing my husband was on borrowed time.

  Sadness was a part of everything we did, but we didn’t let it consume us.

  We lived life like we had before—throwing ourselves into work and play and tackling everything we could.

  And…there was something else.

  Something I’d tripped into, thanks to Ren.

&n
bsp; Something I didn’t figure out for an embarrassingly long time. Something that could be classed as unbelievable or just pure coincidental.

  I liked to think it was the first one.

  A marvel, a wonder, a phenomenon.

  The fact that before Ren destroyed me, he’d made love to me, growling at the gods to impregnate me if they felt a shred of guilt for what they’d done to him.

  I’d been off the pill for a week.

  We’d had sex once before the forest and then multiple times afterward—thanks to getting married and ensuring we consummated the hell out of our union.

  But…it didn’t change facts.

  My world had fallen apart…

  And, I’d fallen pregnant.

  I was pregnant.

  And for months, I didn’t know.

  My body was used to not bleeding—thanks to being on a mini-pill which shut my cycle down. And Ren was the single most important thing on my mind; nothing else mattered.

  If I wasn’t with him during the day, I was reading about trials and diet supplements at night.

  If we weren’t working every hour the sun gave us in the fields, we were making love or sleeping under the stars.

  I felt the same as always. I had no morning sickness, no nausea, stomach pains, breast tenderness, or food cravings.

  There were no signs from before.

  No hint that I was pregnant—ectopic or otherwise.

  And then, John went ahead and gifted us a future that was solid and unbelievably safe, and we had even more on our minds.

  One hundred acres of land.

  Land with our names on it.

  Land that Ren would turn into a fortune.

  When I’d stood watching them argue about such a gift, I’d been pregnant.

  When Ren took me to bed that night and made love to me roughly, dominantly, I’d been pregnant.

  When I went with him to his next treatment and check-up with his oncologist, I’d been pregnant.

  Son or daughter?

  Boy or girl?

  I didn’t know.

  Because I didn’t even know I was knocked-up.

  The news stayed secret for three and a half months.

  There were no missing periods to count. No calendar days to circle. No nudges to perhaps take a test.

  As the months went on, Ren and I carved out an hour here and there during the busy season to visit the bank.