The next weekend Gray drove over to the farm and went in search of Regan. His heart was racing. Anticipation? Expectation? And he determined that he would re –ignite their on-hold-discussion. She probably thought he had forgotten, because he had not broached it during their telephone chats during this week.
He saw her car at the front of the house, so obviously she was here. He knocked on the front door, but there was no answer. He wondered if she was walking, perhaps at the place where she had her picnic. Then he saw the dairy herd and thought he could check with Bob, because Bob might know if Regan is at the farm or is walking. As he walked towards the shed, he noticed that Bob's car was not here.
Gray found Regan in one of the sheds.
"Regan." He called out. "Regan?"
She stopped, looked up and saw that he possessed a quiet assurance and not a trace of nerves. Unlike her. Her heart was racing in anticipation of striking up a conversation but on the inside she was quaking. All she had to do was stay calm now. Use the techniques she'd developed during her childhood. Pretend to be confident if he brings up the conversation again, she reminded herself. So she squared her shoulders, said nothing and waited for him to come closer, wondering why he was here. They'd spoken on the phone during the last week. Mainly about her health, about Bob settling in, and his various visits to different farms in the south island, but none of their conversation did not include a review of that promised stalled-discussion. As days passed during the week, she was sure he had forgotten about it. Which was a good thing. In any case, the telephone conversation gave the impression that he did not consider her a charity case, but just a friendship. It was platonic!
She hadn't done anything to warrant this visit.
"Hi." He came closer.
She asked calmly and looked serenely at Gray, "What are you doing here?" She knew he flew back from the South island late last night because they spoke while he waited at the airport for his plane.
Gray ignored the question and had a question for her, "Where is Bob?" Gray looked around. He expected to see Bob here not Regan in the shed.
Regan said without any hesitation, "An emergency."
Watching her reaction carefully he said with just a hint of a bite. "Emergency?" Gray hoped he hadn't made a poor decision engaging Bob for this farm.
"Yes. And don't worry." She said in a tone of voice that told him it was obvious "He did the shift. Was going to finished it as per usual, but I told him he could leave. I could finish this, re stacking the hose. I brought the message to him." She narrowed her eyes.
Obviously she had done something to annoy Gray, for she couldn't imagine him going out of his way to come and see her again, given they had discussed the farm issues. And yet here he was. In her shed. Asking to talk to her. Maybe he was back, to discuss her beef herd. She knew his employer was restocking his farm, but she thought sheep, given he had spend the last seven days looking at various operations and breeds in the south island. She tipped her head to the side, and asked, "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to talk you." He said bluntly and hoped his statement would jolt her out of her evasiveness from the discussion from a week ago.
"We did that." Red colour suffused Regan's neck and cheeks. "You were at the airport, waiting for your flight back." Regan said, and Gray huffed, he knew her strategy, deflection, swerve, dodge pertinent questions, reveal little and leave you thinking you have sorted it! He'd seen it in operation often enough, when he lived here, more recently, a week ago. But the last week was the foreplay to this discussion, set up the foundations for his intend chat. Any discussion about Bob's working circumstances, his attitudes, his skills and any repercussion from that, was talked about during their telephone chats. Any concerns about her recent ill-health was definitely was put to bed. She was fine. So now he felt he had a chance to advance his plan, because he had moved the various obstacles so that the path was clear.
He shook his head. "Not the type of conversation I wanted to have on a phone." Gray replied calmly ignoring her exasperation.
"Ok. Fine." She murmured and wondered how she was going to get him to change his topic, because she was sure, that Gray was about to restart the 'discussion' from the last week. "So what's it about?" Regan decided that the best approach to take was to simply go with the flow.
He tried to sound as if this was a perfectly normal conversation. "Have you noticed that you put up with people who are being dreadful, but you have a strop if they are kind to you?"
Ah, she thought, obviously they were going to rehash the talk about her mood and resuscitated the chat. "No." She replied somewhat dryly.
But much to Regan's surprise Gray burst out laughing.
Regan huffed at his unexpected response.
"Is that it?" She glanced around, looking for a reason to avoid this chat. "I have things to do. So if you don't mind, excuse me."
Gray grinned without remorse and massaged the bridge of his nose to hide his grin. "You don't have a shift tonight." He stated.
"Yes." She grumbled.
"So you have time?" He asked, ignoring her sarcasm
"No." She stated calmly before throwing him a warning look.
His lips twitched. "Really?" His eyebrow rose in amused challenge.
"Yes. Really. Are we done?" She raised a brow, asking him to ratify that but did not wait for his response. "As I said, I have things to do!"
Again, Gray burst out laughing.
"So if you don't mind," Her voice firm and her eyes on him, she tacked on, "excuse me."
Even as his lips twitched with suppressed laughter, he said, "Regan either we have this chat here right now," He put up his hand, knowing that she was about to interrupt "or I wait outside this shed, and I will be there when you have finished inside here."
She tipped her head as she thought for a second. He was right. He was stubborn. He would be outside waiting for her. "Fine. You talk while I will finish the job here."
He tried to sound reasonable. "I can help."
She threw him a warning look. Charity again. Like the groceries in her fridge. She moved away, picked up the end of the hose.
"That brings me back to what I said earlier, you put up with people who are being unkind, but you have a mood if they are kind to you!"
While she registered that statement, she ignored it. Gray muttered a few more expletives beneath his breath. Some foundations for this chat, he thought silently. Seven days of telephones calls apparently had no tangible outcomes.
He narrowed his eyes in objection as he looked over at her but he reached for the segment of the hose that had a kink, straightened it and it allowed Regan to wind up the hose. Obviously his plan b needed a tweak.
As if things were starting to slot into place. "My conclusion, which I hasten to add I only reached that conclusion over the last few days, is that you put up with people who are being unkind because whatever they say, you can ignore it because they don't matter to you." Regan straightened her shoulders. His statement was too close to the truth. It was something she had learnt during her childhood. You have to develop a strategy when barbs are launched. And her strategy was to ensure that those barbs were deflected. "But if you moved them from the 'don't matter' to the 'do matter' clique and they do something to you, your response is heartfelt."
She griped with sarcasm, even as she recognized the truth in his statement, "Thanks for that insightful opinion."
He continued, "And obviously you have moved me from the 'don't matter' clique to the 'do matter'!"
"If you say so!" She turned her back to him and yanked the hose to straighten it.
"And equally, obviously, I have done something, to upset you. My problem is that I don't know what it is!" He rubbed his forehead with his palm. He thought, this is the problem with this woman, every time you think you have made progress, she will pull the rug out from under your feet.
He continued to follow her, and continued to talk, "I think it has something to do with your concept of charity!" It was just a shame that he could not work out why exactly. He ran his hands through his hair. "I was helping you with the evening shift and for some reason you took offence."
Followed by silence, for an interminable second.
She tried to pull herself together. "Are you done?" She looked over her shoulder at him, and quirked an eyebrow.
"No!" He announced flatly despite recognizing her stubbornness had kicked in. He exhaled contemplatively as his mind reviewed some of his options. He ran a hand down his face. So much of his plan hinged on this conversation going well. And it was not going well at all. And he knew he was making a hash of this.