It took several days for Owen to finally make an appearance on her side of the fence. The last time she had seen him was that night. Of course he would not have made himself face the result of what he had done to Adrian. Not until everything even remotely related to that was sufficiently taken care of. Bones painfully reset, infected wounds bandaged, the mess cleaned, and – and, perhaps most importantly, paid for in full.

She had spotted him from across the way and dashed up the stairs to get a better look. There, crossing her fenceline onto the path that wound through her garden was Owen; dressed staunchly in the stiff grey shirt he had worn every time Grace had eaten dinner in his home. His coarse face stayed focused only on the ground in front of his feet. He moved slowly, agedly even. She wondered for a split second how such a haggard man had ever managed to overpower someone with Adrian’s strength.

Or rather, someone who had Adrian’s strength. He certainly didn’t anymore.

She poked her head into the bedroom, and, seeing that he was sleeping, gently pulled the door shut. A knock downstairs came shortly after. She feels herself freeze, paralyzed by her own fear. Instinct, eating at her gut, told her to rush into the bedroom and make sure Adrian was okay. But something else, an empty feeling around her belly button, fluttered up through her chest and propelled her down the stairs.
Emma beat her to the door.
Grace makes her into the sitting room, passing through the dining room on her way. The dining table, last used as a makeshift trauma bed, sat unbothered in the centre of the room. As if nothing had happened.
Had he waited until this was the case? She thought. Even if he hadn’t, what difference did it make? Just because the mess was cleaned up didn’t mean the trash had been picked up.
“Good morning.” She projects, her voice filling the room and overpowering that of Emma and Owen combined. They both turn quickly, her presence having pierced the awkward silence that Emma had tried to lighten.

“Grace.” Owen nods, his left hand twirling the ring on his right middle finger. “I thought we might talk.”

Why was he so difficult to read?

She nods curtly and directs him into the parlour, taking her seat on the arm chair that sat nearest the door. Owen sat slowly down on the sofa, taking in the room. To be fair, it was very clean. She’d seen to it that the space was freshly scrubbed of Adrian’s blood, which had stained the rug when Thomas had dragged his near lifeless body across it toward the dining room table. She’d thought the cleaning would help everyone have a fresh start. She’d even had the summer curtains hung, which she had neglected to attend to following the chaos of this early point in the season.
“You know, in all the years we’ve been neighbors, I don’t think I’ve ever been in this room.” He chuckles. He is the only one.

“Really?” she replies, falsely animating her voice, “Strange how that happens.”

He nods. “What has it been now, twenty years? You were no bigger than Caroline is now when I first met you.”

Grace nods but says nothing, bidding him to continue.

“Come to think of it, our families really have seen all parts of life from one another The good and the bad, you know? Isn’t that part of what makes living in this area so pleasant?”

His pale eyes bore into her, aggressively waiting for her to indicate that she knew why he was there.

“I’m not so sure about that,” she sighs, matching his intensity, “I’ve always thought involving yourself in another’s business was a quick way to learn something you’d rather not know about.”
He sits back.

“Now, see that’s why I’m here.” He holds eye contact until his obvious discomfort forces his gaze between his knees, “I understand that you may have caught my son and I in a bad moment the other night.”

Grace raises her eyebrows, daring him to elaborate.

“To be frank, it was a private, family moment. I don’t know what story my son told you, but it was not his to share with anyone. Now. My hope here is that you will respect that and keep this to yourself.”

“Are you being serious?” she hisses, speaking with her hands, “Let’s just take a moment here and recount his story. Number one. You tortured him in that barn for weeks on end. Number two. Knowing he was wholly reliant on you, and that no one else knew where he was, you went into town for five days and left him, alone. The only valid reason for doing so being that you wanted him to starve to death. Or better yet, perhaps you wanted him to almost starve to death, so he would become pliable. So you could control him. Number three. Upon discovering that someone was trying to help him survive, you bashed his legs in.”

Owen’s mouth sits agape.

“Shall I continue?”

He looks out the window. “I wouldn’t expect you to understand what parents go through, Grace. Adrian has always enjoyed embellishing the truth.”

“Embellishing?!” She snaps, “Try again. When I found him he was emaciated and terrified. You had beaten him within an inch of his life and then you left him there! You should be horrified with yourself. The only reason I didn’t report you immediately was because Adrian did not want your family to be split up.”

It immediately became obvious that he had not considered that as a possibility. That is had not occurred to him. She recalled his desperation about it. His fear of being sent to a state run farm. Even without Owen in the picture, she could not have done that to him. At the same time, there was not much she wouldn’t have done if it meant he would’ve been out of that awful place sooner.
In an effort to shut her feelings down, she takes a deep breath.
“I thought about doing it anyway every single day.” She states calmly. “But I didn’t. If I were you I would be looking to thank him. Then I would be looking to apologize.”

“I’m not going to play this game with you anymore.” He snipes, sliding farther over on the couch. “You owe me.”

“I was wondering when that would come up,” she pulls a file folder out of her desk, “How much will this cover?”

She hands him the file. Owen reads through it quickly, his expression dropping with each new reveal. The folder contained several pages detailing the work the surgeon had done to reset Adrian’s legs, the travel time, the pain medication, the antibiotics, the stitches, and the first of eight payments toward physical therapy that he would require if he ever wanted to return to farm work. In total it was about four hundred dollars. Likely about a year’s income, maybe slightly more.

“What is all of this?” He says gruffly.

“That is everything Adrian required to begin healing after being released from your…care.” She states, her voice restrained.

“You paid for this?” he glances up to meet her eyes, “Grace, I-“

“Yes,” she tenses, cutting him off. “I assumed based off Thomas’ reaction to the surgeon that you did not have the means to pay for even a fraction of what was needed. So. I figured I would pay it and work something out with you privately. Adrian is…yours. After all.”

He falls silent, reading and re-reading the pages. Reality appears to hit him.

“You want me to pay this?” a glimmer of shock opens his eyes further.

“Yes. Unless you’d like to make a separate arrangement. I see no need to involved the courts if you plan to cooperate.”
“Courts? What do you mean? This is not what I’d’ve done.” He stands and looks out the window, “you did that on your own. This isn’t…. This isn’t my problem.”

“What isn’t your problem?” She rises from her seat. “His life? Whether or not he lives? Whether or not he suffers? That’s entirely your problem. Is it not exactly the reason you refused to let him marry?” She gets closer to him, mocking him with her voice.

“He’s your lower born and you’d like to keep that control? Would you have preferred I remove his dying carcass from your barn and then leave him out in the field? Maybe he could’ve fertilized the fucking soil?”

Clearly overwhelmed, Owen raises his hand to her, as if about to strike.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake Owen. Enough. Sit down.” She lowers her voice.

Much to her surprise, he complies, returning to the couch.

“Why don’t we settle this reasonably?” She hands him a pen. “I am perfectly willing to forget all about this medical bill and cover all future ones if you sign this.”

He reads it over slowly, internalizing its contents.

“This is an engagement.” He scoffs. “

“Yes. You will see that it also gives me temporary custody of Adrian. Its the same that you do when you send him to town to work. However, the length of this is contingent on the surgeon being sufficiently pleased with his recovery and making the decision to end treatment, rather than employment paid to you.

After that time, if we are not yet married of course, he would return to you.”

Owen takes this all in. “This is too much.”

“Oh please. I have done you a favor. Caring for him would bankrupt you. Probably quicker than you think it would, with the loss of his labor on your farm.”

He says nothing, twirling the ring around on his finger.

“I suppose I could also report you.” She suggests, feigning innocence.

He purses his lips and looks away. She’d got him.
The sit in silence for a time. Owen signs both documents and hands the entire folder back to Grace. She smiles.

“Thank you.” She says sincerely.

“Is he here?” Owen asks, standing again. “How is he?”

“You can’t see him.”

He nods, “I guess I’ll be going then.”

Without another word he gets up, takes his copy of the file folder and removes himself from the house. She watches him form the window, he does not look back even once.