Between Here and the Horizon(34)
November was frigid and awful. The sky was the color of war—gray and black and grim—and the rain rarely broke. Rose was at home with the children when I finally saw Sully Fletcher again.
“There we go, sweetie. Whew, that’s a heavy one. Must have some good stuff in there.” Sam, the woman who ran the post office, slid the package I’d come to collect toward me across the counter, smiling. The package was from Mom—probably more winter clothing. She was terrified I was going to freeze to death. Sam glanced over my shoulder, lifting a hand in greeting. “Hi, Sully. You can leave that there if you like? I’ll swing by on my way home to pay you.”
I spun around so quick I almost lost my balance. Sure enough, Sully was standing in the open doorway of the post office, and in his hands he was holding a huge, beautiful rocking chair. When he saw me, his expression changed from flat disinterest to open horror. “Sure thing, Sam.” He put the rocking chair down next to the door, bending at the waist, and I couldn’t help but notice how close he’d cropped his hair, or the curls of wood shavings that were stuck to the thick plaid material of his shirt. There was a black smudge on the back of his neck, as if he’d rubbed greasy fingers there and no one had told him about the stain marking his skin. He didn’t turn around again or say another word to Sam. He just walked through the door and left.
“I wouldn’t do it to myself if I were you.”
“Pardon me?” I turned back to find that Sam was giving me a knowing, wary look.
“Sully Fletcher. As handsome as the devil on Sunday. Had every single one of the women on this island in a tizz at some point, but he ain’t never looked at a single one of them. Trust me. That one’s more trouble than he’s worth. You need a cabinet made, or a chair fixed, then Sully’s your man. If you’re looking for someone with a gentle and tender heart to snuggle up with on the couch when it’s raining, then you’re better off getting a dog.”
“I’m not looking for that. And if I were, I definitely wouldn’t be interested in Sully.”
“Hmm.” From the look on her face, Sam didn’t believe me one bit. “All right then. But just so you know, that one didn’t come back from the desert the same as when he left, if you get my meaning. Just be careful around him. And don’t let those little ones around him too much, either.” There wasn’t any fear of that happening; Sully had made himself perfectly clear back at the house four weeks ago, and he hadn’t changed his mind. I’d heard nothing from him regarding his niece and nephew. I’d heard nothing from him, period.
Outside, I caught him climbing into a beaten truck so covered in mud that I couldn’t even make out what color it was. He wanted to throw the car in drive and disappear, I could tell, but I wasn’t going to let him. I stepped in front of the vehicle and laid my hands flat against the hood.
Sully leaned out of his window and growled, “What in holy f*ck do you think you’re doing?” He sounded so similar to Ronan, it was uncanny. I’d never heard Ronan say f*ck, but I could imagine it all too well.
“You’re avoiding me. And the children. Why?”
“You’re insane.” Sully looked around the inside of his truck, like he was looking for someone to agree with him. “I’m a busy guy, Miss Ophelia Lang from California. I have work to do. Why would I be playing stupid games and avoiding you?”
“That’s what I’d like to know. You didn’t even come to Ronan’s funeral.” The day had been one of the few fine days I’d experienced on The Causeway. The sun had shone for the entire forty minutes I’d stood at Ronan’s graveside with the children, the temperature cool but fresh, and the fact that so few people had shown up to say their farewells to Ronan had been heartbreaking. Back in New York, there would have been work associates, friends, neighbors… Here on the island, the only person who I’d known at the tiny Catholic Church had been Rose and that was it.
“Of course I didn’t come.” Sully turned the key in the ignition; the car’s engine roared into life, startling me. “I’m not above running over a girl, you know. I’ve done it before.”
“Where? In Afghanistan?”
Sully sat back in his seat like he’d been slapped. “And what would you know about Afghanistan?”
I’d obviously touched a very, very raw nerve. “Nothing.”
“That’s right. You don’t know anything.”
“Maybe I should change that. Maybe I should just read Magda’s journal, and—”
“What did you just say?” Sully stopped trying to maneuver the car past me and gaped at me out of the window. His anger seemed to have dissipated in a puff of smoke.
“Magda’s journal. Ronan told me to read it. To understand what happened between you two better.”
“Is that so?” Sully leaned forward, forearms against the steering wheel. With eyebrows so high up his forehead they were almost touching his hairline, he tilted his head to one side. He was angry; I could feel the tension snapping in the air. Given the look in his eyes, I wouldn’t be surprised if he did run me over. “And what have you learned so far, Lang?” he snapped. He looked suspicious. Almost worried.
“I haven’t learned anything. I haven’t read it,” I snapped back. It was true. I hadn’t read a single entry since I’d first picked up the journal after Ronan died. Oh, I’d wanted to for sure. It still sat on my nightstand, and night after night I warred with myself, trying to convince myself of the fact that reading the contents of the journal wasn’t invading Sully’s privacy. But it was. I knew it was.