Between Here and the Horizon(65)



We stood for a long time in silence while Ronan caught his breath. We would have stood for much longer if one of Ronan’s specialists, Crowe, hadn’t burst into the tent, yelling out my name.

“Captain Fletcher? Ah, there you are. Sorry, Sully. Colonel Whitlock’s looking for you. He asked if you could please head straight to his office. He has some paperwork for you to fill out.”

So there it was. Ronan was right; they were extending everybody. Looked like I was up next. My brother stepped back, breathing in deeply, straightening his t-shirt. “Thanks, Sully. I’ll see you later, man. Let me know how it goes, huh?” He turned and walked away before I had a chance to reply to him. He obviously didn’t want his guy to see he was freaked out, and I didn’t want to put him in that position, either.

“All right, Crowe.” I turned to the specialist, slapping him on the back. “You lead the way. I’m right behind you.”

The entire walk to Whitlock’s office, the Italian’s mortars continued to rain down on the city four miles away, sending bursts of fire and death into the sky.





CHAPTER NINETEEN





Sunshine Scramble





“Are you ready for this? Are you sure you don’t want to wait until after Christmas like we planned?”

Connor was sliding a brand new notebook and a pack of pencils into a dark blue book bag I’d bought for him at the store. Stationary supplies on The Causeway were a little thin on the ground, so I’d had to do the best I could. As a result, Connor had everything he needed for his first day at school, but he was hardly going to be the cool kid in his year. If we were back in New York, I’d have been able to take him all over the city, buying the best shoes, the best clothes, a mountain of different paper, pens, glue sticks etc. He didn’t seem to care that he wasn’t decked out in brand names, though. He just seemed happy to be getting out of the house.

“Yes, it’s fine. I want to go. Really.”

Rose had shown up at the house after work the day before, saying wouldn’t it be a great idea if the children could make some friends before the holidays, so they’d have people to stop by and visit. She’d already spoken to the principal at the elementary school, who was fine with taking Connor as an early admission. I hadn’t had much input in the decision at all—fine with me, because Connor actually appeared to be excited for once, and that was a wonder in itself.

“Do you want me to drive you, or Rose?” I asked him.

He bit his lip and looked at the floor. A second later, with narrowed eyes, he glanced up and said, “You, please.”

So I did. When I said goodbye to him at the gate, where other children were filing boisterously into the small, boxy-looking building beyond, Connor turned and hugged me, head pressed into my stomach, arms only just about able to reach my waist, and I felt a stab of anxiety shoot through me. Was he going to be okay? What if he tripped and fell? What if he banged his head? What if some of the other kids started bullying him for no reason? There were endless things that could go wrong on the first day at a new school, and it felt wrong that I was standing around outside the school grounds, watching him run inside, bag bouncing up and down on his back, and I wasn’t going inside with him to protect him. I supposed this was how it felt for the parents who used to drop off their kids at Saint Augustus’s while I walked inside, too, ready to teach.

The suggestion Michael made at Rose’s party came to mind again. There was a position for a full-time teacher open at the school. And it was well paid, too. Once these six months with the children were up, come hell or high water I was finding another job. If I stayed here on The Causeway after the summer, would it be so bad? If the children stayed here somehow, too? I couldn’t imagine walking out on them now, or simply handing them over to Sheryl, to be dumped in some awful foster home. And that was after they’d sat for months in a group home, waiting forever to see who would agree to take them. The thought just killed me.

At home, Amie and I made sparkle starfish dinosaurs to put on the fridge, and then we sat and read a book together. Midway through, my cell phone buzzed on the arm of the sofa.





Sully: Macaroni and cheese? Steak?





He’d finished up with a winky face, which made me shake my head.

“What are you smiling at, Feelya?” Amie asked, looking up at me. Her face was so perfect. So sweet and innocent. Her hair was sticking up at the front, floating on a wave of static that prickled between us.

“Nothing at all, little monster. A friend I know just made a joke on my phone.”

“Was it a funny joke?”

“Not really. He was being cheeky.”

She leaned back, her head resting in the crook of my arm, giggling, teeth on show, and I just wanted to wrap my arms around her and squeeze her tight. She was the most adorable thing. She had the same chin, the same high forehead, and the same dimples as both her father and her uncle. The exact same hair color. The same smile, and the same mischievous glint in her eye. “What did he say?” she asked, still laughing.

“He’s sick at the moment, so I’ve been making his dinner for him and taking it over to his house on the other side of the island. He was just saying that he wanted steak with mac and cheese for dinner, which is really naughty because it’s not so easy to make.”

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