afterthought, she added a couple of candy bars. She wasn’t even hungry, but she’d be damned if she’d be caught with nothing on hand. Just having some supplies made her feel more secure. There was no way she was going to Cal and Maggie, though she knew they’d be happy to find her a space. It was so important to her that Cal and Maggie think she had it together.
She decided to go to the Crossing. That Sully, he seemed like a pretty simple, straightforward guy. He wasn’t too deep or complicated, she could see that. And it was a campground. She’d camp. It wasn’t too cold, given her sweatshirt and sleeping bag. Her flashlight was charged, she had food and drink, there was a public bathroom... She’d snuggle up in the backseat, read her book and snack and if she ran into any trouble, like a bear or something, she could outrun it in the pumpkin. Or she could lay on the horn until Sully woke up.
That’s right, Sierra. Wake up a little old man to fight off your bear.
But nothing would go wrong. In the morning she’d just tell him the hostel filled up with college kids and she wasn’t the partying kind. She was more the kind to have a quiet and private night. Best to ask about that cabin; she’d be more than happy to work around the Crossing for a room.
Her first surprise was that she could even find the Crossing—it was awfully dark on these back country roads. It was after ten and she didn’t pass a single car. Fortunately there was a bright moon and Sully had some lights on at the grounds. There were a couple of small campers and a car parked by one of the cabins and even in the dark she could see progress had been made on the cleanup in just a matter of days.
She parked right between the store and Sully’s house where he would see her car first thing. She didn’t want to shock or worry the old guy. Then she crawled into the backseat, snuggled into her sleeping bag and looked at her phone. She still had plenty of charge for the night. She pulled out her nifty little book light that fit around her neck like a necklace shining in front of her. Her bag of groceries sat on the car floor on one side of the bump, her open backpack on the other. If nature called in the night the light on her cell phone would get her to the loo.
She pulled out Pride and Prejudice again. Just like her other favorite romances, the hero was very masculine and a little cruel. Just like real life, Sierra-style.
Her throat hurt a little as she fought the release of tears. She denied herself tears. It was her penance for all her sins—the pain of holding in the tears. Someday, when she’d suffered enough, she imagined the floodgates would open and she’d cry till she drowned. But not tonight. She drank some soda to take the ache away. It wasn’t long before she nodded off in her book, cozy as a bug in a rug.
She was roused in what seemed like seconds by a tapping on her window. Startled, she woke to see Sully tapping with his flashlight. It was still dark. Was he frowning? Beau, the yellow Lab, had his forelegs up on the door, panting excitedly. Beau seemed to be smiling. She opened the window a crack.
“Coffee’s on,” Sully said. He walked into the store.
The keenest sorrow is to recognize ourselves as the sole cause of all our adversities.
—Sophocles
SIERRA TOOK A brief detour through the bathroom, backpack over one shoulder. She washed her face, brushed her teeth and ran a brush through her hair.
She wondered if Sully was angry. It was a campground, after all.
She wandered into the store. In the back was the kitchen and a short breakfast bar with just three stools. Sully stood behind the bar, which also served as the checkout point for purchases. He was staring into a steaming cup of coffee. Behind him at the back door Beau was inhaling his breakfast in great, greedy gulps, tail wagging.
Sierra climbed up on a stool a little sheepishly. Quiet.
Sully took a swallow of his coffee, then slowly turned toward the little kitchen. He brought her a cup of coffee, then pushed the cream and sugar toward her.
“You mad?” she asked.
He didn’t look at her. “Ain’t worth a damn before my coffee.”
“Ah,” she said. So she left him to it. She stirred some cream and sugar into her cup and took a slow, luxurious sip. Excellent coffee, she thought. It would be slightly more excellent if the sun was at least up. Maybe if they became friends she could point out to him that he might like the morning better if he slept until the sun at least began to rise. As for herself, it was as she had predicted. She felt fresh and new. Apparently her demons decided to sleep in.
“How’s your neck?” Sully asked.
“My neck? It’s fine. Why?”
“You were sleeping like a pretzel. Wasn’t it a little cold?”
“Nah, I was toasty. I had my sweatshirt on and my sleeping bag is great. I wouldn’t have slept in the car if it was predicted to freeze.”
“You Joneses,” he said. “You really know how to make do.”
She laughed. “You were right about Mrs. Singleton’s hostel. It filled up with college girls who were oh-so-happy to be on a vacation. They were loud. And I scored a roommate—surprise, surprise. She was drunk and passed out on the bed. I used to be a lot more flexible.”
“That so?” he asked.
In for a penny, in for a pound, she decided. She was going to be asking for a cabin if he proved tractable. And he was Cal’s father-in-law. “Well, specifically, I was usually the one who passed out. Sobriety is kind of...startling. And at times inconvenient.” She took another sip. “You know about me, right?”
“Know what about you?” he said, refilling his half-empty cup.
She told him her story, the abbreviated version. She was a recovering alcoholic, sober nine months. She’d been reunited with Cal while she was still in rehab, right before Cal and Maggie got married. She was in AA, the second A standing for anonymous. “But I figured Cal would have mentioned something about me,” she added.
“Not a lot,” Sully said.
She gave a short unamused laugh. “Someday I’m going to learn to play my cards close to my vest like that. Did you or didn’t you know?” she asked directly.
“He mentioned you were in the hospital and he wanted to visit you before he and Maggie married. I think he wanted to know if you inherited your father’s malady. The mental illness.”
“I wanted to know that, too. I didn’t.”
“I guess that’s lucky, eh?”
“It’s not too late,” she said.
“That so? And how old was your dad when he succumbed?” Sully asked.
“As close as we can figure out, he was in his early twenties. But he had some symptoms he and everyone around him tried to ignore. Like he was... Well, he was brilliant. I think under his schizophrenia he’s still brilliant. It’s just all twisted up.”
“Your brother seems pretty smart. Is it possible those two things aren’t really connected?”
“Huh?” she asked.
“The smart and the crazy?” Sully asked.
She just shrugged. She’d asked herself that a lot. Because it was horrible to be afraid of intelligence, especially one’s own intelligence.
“I got the feeling they aren’t the same thing—smart and crazy. There’s some autistic kids from a group home come around in the summer. Not a one of ’em could pass an IQ test of any kind and some of ’em are just downright brilliant. You know? Memories