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I avoided Kira for the next couple days. I was busy, but more than that, she unsettled me, and I didn't need the distraction. The only female companionship I had the time or desire for right now was very temporary, and admittedly very shallow. Getting involved with my wife would be a bad idea on almost every level.
The only contact we'd had was her text advising me she’d requested a certified copy of our marriage license, but that it would be several weeks before it would be processed and posted. More waiting—but we were one step closer. A couple weeks and we'd have the check we both desperately needed. The end.
I had no idea what she was doing, nor did I much care. Or at least that's what I kept telling myself. In any case, she seemed to be happy enough to avoid me as well. She didn't show up at any of the normal meal times, and I refused to ask Charlotte whether she ate at the vineyard or not. Although I did catch sight of her scampering around here and there, and I thought she might have brought the men I worked with lunch a couple times. I always ate up at the house, so I couldn't be sure, and I didn't ask them.
A week after we'd gotten married, I was walking back down the hill to the vineyards where José, Virgil, and the two new, part-time guys I'd hired the day before were working, when I stopped short, squinting my eyes to make sure I was really seeing what I thought I was seeing. Kira was standing on one leg, her other stretched out behind her on the back of one of the tractors as it moved around the perimeter of the grapevines. She had a long ribbon of some sort in one hand and was waving it through the air. As I watched, she changed legs, bringing her arms out in front of her in some sort of pose. The men cheered and clapped, holding up their fingers as if scoring her for her performance. She turned toward them, the tractor still moving, José at the wheel, and did a deep curtsy, her long, loose hair falling forward, and then stood and spun around, bringing her leg up again in a ballerina-type pose. My heart leapt with panic and my breath stuttered at the dangerous stunt, which got my legs moving again. I half walked/half jogged toward her. When I was close, José looked to where I was, the smile on his face disappearing as he slowed the tractor, finally stopping completely. Immobile, I glared at them, at a complete loss for words. Finally, I managed to grit out, "What in the hell are you doing?"
José scratched his neck and wisely looked away, while Kira stood straighter, staring down at me defiantly. "I brought lunch down," she said, gesturing to the In-N-Out Burger wrappers strewn on a blanket at the base of a tree to the right of the tractor’s path. She jumped down. "I was simply showing them the routine I planned to use to join the circus. I was going to be the girl who dances on the back of an elephant. I perfected it years ago while my best friend Kimberly drove my father's golf cart. We all got talking about childhood dreams and . . ." She trailed off, smiling around at the men.
I stared at her. "Oh, well, clearly," I said, my voice laced with sarcasm.
She had the grace and wisdom to look momentarily embarrassed. But then that little chin came up again and fire danced in her eyes. "We were just having a little fun—not on your time, either. It was their lunch break." She put her hands on her hips.
"It's my equipment, Kira. If you had gotten hurt, I'd be responsible." Before she could answer, I looked at José. "And you? What do you have to say for yourself?"