Miss Matched [COMPLETED]

42. Tayla

Angus's house is a flat fronted two story made of some sort of stone. A large expanse of grass stretches out in front, and behind is a series of barns, in various states of repair. Sheep, horses, goats, and a few highland cattle graze in the fields. The dogs wander over to me, tails wagging, and I crouch to give them a reassuring scratch.

"We're going to be roommates," I whisper. Angus said they were indoor and outdoor dogs, and he let them decide where to spend their time with a rear entrance at the back of the house that had a doggy door and their crates for sleeping. Not quite what I'd call indoor, but letting them sleep in my bed would really confuse them when Angus returned. Could they adapt? Rex only sleeps with Simon sometimes.

Simon.

I close my eyes and take a deep, steadying breath. Every time he crosses my mind, the wound of leaving is reopened.

Instead of going into the house, which feels a bit like invading Angus's life, I leave my bags outside the front door and start with the clinic. Although the outside resembles a low barn, the inside is filled with clean spaces and rooms, state of the art equipment, and a fully functioning computer system. Angus sent me photos, but it's hard to get a sense of a place from a snapshot in time.

Back at the front door, I gather my courage and use the heavy metal key his neighbor hid under the mat earlier today. Angus assured me there wasn't another soul for miles, so leaving the key under the rug wasn't an issue. I suppose by that rationale, they could have left the door unlocked or even wide open. Though both those options would have freaked me out. Wouldn't have been a great start to being out in the middle of nowhere by myself.

On the way here, I hardly understood my cab driver. While he rattled off all sorts of helpful local tips, I wondered how many times I could ask him to repeat himself before I seemed completely inept to be here.

I haul my suitcases in the front entrance with white walls and black accents. To the right is a narrow set of stairs and what looks to be a sitting room of some sort.

With a deep breath, I peruse the house, taking in the modern kitchen, the older but still comfortable furniture, and the various photos on the walls of Angus and his wife through the years. They never had any children. The thought brings Simon to my mind again, though he hasn't been far from my thoughts since I left New York.

Children with Simon.

I'm in the master bedroom when there's a knock downstairs on the front door.

"Hello?" A male voice calls out.

At least I can recognize that word.

I hustle down the stairs and an older gentleman stands in the entryway. He lights up when I appear, a grin stretching across his weathered face.

"Ay. You're just a wee lass. Angus asked me to pop in. Said you'd need help gettin' a few things."

"You must be John." I offer my hand in greeting, and his rough callused one encompasses mine. I hadn't expected him until tomorrow, but the sooner I can get groceries and a phone, the better. "Do you mind showing me around?"

"Not-a-tol. Shops close in an hour. We best be gettin' on."

I grab my purse off the top of the pile and follow John out of the house. Let the adventure begin.

~ * ~

Two weeks later, I've settled into a routine of working until the wee hours of the night to keep up with my farm chores while managing the vet practice. Each night when I fall into bed, Simon's voice is a comfort on the other end of the line. No matter what shift he's working, he makes sure he's available when I call.