Commitment

Part 10

Relying on her years of putting on a happy front she lifted her head so that she could make eye contact, and asked him with well-hidden unease and trying not to let him see the hurt his words had caused, "How much will it need?" She said quietly while she banked his statements about her. If she wanted the farm to be successful she need Gray, because he was right. She had no idea about running a farm. More recently when she approached the bank, she wondered about her mental health: Why bother to keep it? He was right, she couldn't help. He was also right, if she wanted this farm to be successful, she would have to invest in the farm. And again, he was right, it would need time and money! There was no point in her point in time, as she had no real experience in running a farm. He was right, he was putting in the time, and obviously he wanted her to hand over the money, the problem was there is no money.

"What?" He sneered.

She swallowed her gulp at his look. Instead she kept her voice well modulated, and her eyes hid what she thought as she repeated, "How much are we talking?"

The fact she could simply ignore what he'd said to her, ignore the fact he had insulted her, really insulted her, was astonishing. He ignored her quietly voiced question as he derided, "How long is a piece of string?" He folded his arms, leaned back and shook his head. She really was a piece of work. Obviously money wasn't an issue. She hadn't even blinked when he'd finished his tirade. Then he leaned in once again, "You've got no idea about how to run this place. I don't understand how someone as condescending as you comes to be friends with the Jones. I can't believe that they accepted your supercilious, aristocratic crap ...."

She mumbled hiding the apprehension as she wondered if he was about to start up with yet another list of descriptive adjectives. She had no difficulty in remembering his tirade from a few moments ago. She did not need a repeat performance. Quietly she said, "Enough!"

He looked at her and shook his head. This woman was going to be the end of him. He remembered the state of this place when he arrived here, the fact that nothing worked, the equipment was practically useless. He got up early everyday during the first two weeks, as he took apart the equipment and reassembled the parts to ensure that it worked using tools that were practically antiques. He moved the junk out of the barns and restocked the relevant items. He wasn't working on a farm, he was working at a garage, in essence. No viable, workable, space as the fields were out of control, but sorting out the pastures was not possible unless he got the equipment working. With limited equipment working he managed to get the pastures into workable spaces. Now he needed to stock the farm. But it would appear that the owner of the farm did want a working farm! Just a play farm.

Perhaps he should suggest a lego farm. She could manage that. And he could look elsewhere for a really job. Of course he was happy that they had a roof at the moment. But working for a woman who takes no interest in her farm is a farce. If he had this place it would be great. The farm has potential. The fields are great for both sheep and cattle. The location of the farm is great for economically reasons. But he was pretty sure that this woman would not know anything about any aspects of this farm. At it made him cross.

He ran his palm behind his neck and said, albeit more quietly, "You've got no idea about how to run this place."

"Possibly." She folded her arms. Obviously her childhood has unexpected rewards, she knows how to bank her fury, while not showing the fury in her eyes. "But my question to you, was, how much are we talking?" She, like him, kept her voice quiet. She kept her fury banked as she said, "And I did not ask for a review of my nature or my attitude." She was really pleased with her attitude right now. The fact that she had stopped him, without hitting him! The fact she was still having a conversation with him without yelling at him. Perhaps she was unusual, her brain told her as her heart stopped hammering with fury. David and Goliath, she thought as she watched him from her position.

His eyebrows beetled, "Fine." He frowned. What was going on here? She was very quiet, and as if they were having a normal conversation, a simple chat about the weather, when in reality they were arguing. He jammed his hands into his pockets and opted to follow her tone. So he said quietly, "As I said to you, how long is a piece of string?" He kept his eyes on hers.

 "Just give me a ball park figure." She told him with little evidence of how much she was hurting. The thing was that even once they'd had this conversation, there was no one she could go to at the moment, to just talk it through, to get a bit of recovery tlc. She couldn't tell the Jones', they'd be upset for her and they would feel guilty for encouraging her to take Gray and his family on. She felt more alone then she had ever felt. Not sure why exactly as she had lived on her own for a long time, and in any case, she wasn't living lone, she was living with three other adults. She kept her sigh to herself. She corrected her thought: it was not about feeling more alone, it was more about becoming more lonely. Living alone is not the same as being lonely, her head reminded her. She had lived alone making decisions, for her and there was no sign of loneliness. Now she has company, but that feeling of companionship, friendship, camaraderie that she associated with company was missing. And it left her feeling lonely. Dejection, she decided was the best description for how she felt right now. But she was good at hiding her feelings. Her face was a mask but even that mask was just plain. No sparkle, no colour, nothing. More of a marble statue, her brain corrected her.  

Gray couldn't believe how calm she'd remained. Nothing it would appear could get through that thick a layer of frost. She seemed utterly immune to criticism. Gray arched a brow and asked smoothly, "For what? All mod cons? Basic? What?" He pushed away from her and stepped away. The woman was so aloof, so conceited in her belief that everything revolved around her. Well things were going to have to change, and change fast. If she continued to treat him with little respect or trust, he would be looking for work elsewhere and this farm would start falling down around her, once again.

Regan wondered whether it was possible to feel even more hammered. Her eyes met his. "Right." She took a breath. Massaging her neck that was now tense with stressed muscles, she said softly, "I suggest you work out the cost of getting the bunk house ready." She looked at him and said more firmly, "Nothing extravagant. Functional will do." He looked ready to launch into another tirade. She tried to keep her anxiety out of her voice when she said, "And when you have those costs worked out, I'll consider it." She picked up her mug and headed out. Another thing she'd learnt over the years, if you couldn't maintain the happy front, leave!

The number of times she'd been on the receiving end of a lecture from her parents for daring to voice discontent or draw attention to a hurt or concern, had built in an automatic response to remain poised and pretend to be content. She was pleased to see that her early years had conditioned her well. But as she walked out of the room, his monologue played over and over in her mind. And each time the words registered they cut a little deeper. She'd been alone for most of her life, but nothing had prepared her for the loneliness she felt right here and now. Knowing that the man thought so little of her. It hurt. It hurt a lot more than she had ever anticipated.