“I didn’t have to do it all alone,” he said. “No matter who reached out to me, offered a hand, pulled up a chair to talk a spell, I froze ’em out and went my own way. It was every bit as terrible as I hoped it would be. I wanted to suffer, I guess.”
“But you and Maggie are together now...”
“It took a few years before I was in good enough shape to see her, to take care of her. She’s still pissed about that, by the way.” Then he laughed. “She’s a pistol. I guess she comes by it naturally. According to Maggie I didn’t fight for her. What she’d want with a father like me, I have no idea. But by the time Phoebe let her come to visit I’d laid most of my ghosts to rest.”
“How?” she wanted to know. “If you didn’t go to rehab or meetings or counseling or—”
“Did I say I never went to meetings or counseling?” Sully asked. “Maybe not the same ones you go to. There’s a group of Vietnam vets that look out for each other. That’s where I first met Frank and I ain’t got shed of him since! We try to do some nice things for the community, keep an eye out for our brothers. When I found out I was part of a group, things got better. Easier. Just so you know, little girl, you’re part of a group. You got people here.”
Sierra felt that raw scrape in her throat again and took another drink of her coffee to soothe it.
“And another thing—you got the land,” Sully said. “Now I’ll be the first to admit, I tend to take it for granted, but you get out there on the trail a little bit and you pray to whatever entity you want, whatever great being made these mountains and forests and I’m not kidding, answers come. I didn’t just make it up. All these lunatics that march through here all summer while they’re taking on as much of the CDT as they can manage will tell you the same. Your brother did that, didn’t he.” It wasn’t a question. “He got out on the trail and had a little nature, then he was square. His head wasn’t a corkscrew anymore.”
“Sully,” she said, laughing, maybe inappropriately. “He was looking for a beautiful place to let his wife’s ashes go.”
“He musta found it because he snatched up my daughter the minute he got back.”
“You’re not unhappy about that, are you?” she asked.
“Hell no. Those two are giving me a grandchild! If you want the truth, the last man Maggie got herself involved with, I actually feared what it might be if they had a child together!”
“I can’t wait to hear that story,” she said.
“That one ain’t mine to tell,” he said.
“Something tells me you’d take pleasure in it,” she said, finishing the last of her sticky pastry and licking her fingers.
“The thing that irritated me the most about Maggie’s last fella, he didn’t seem to take any notice of how lucky he was that Maggie gave him the time of day. Arrogant fool. I bet he’s suffering now.”
Sierra grinned. “Despite what you say, I bet you were a wonderful father.”
“I’d like to meet your parents,” Sully said.
“My parents?” she asked. “Oh, Sully. Hasn’t Cal told you about Jed and Marissa? They raised us mostly in a converted school bus! On the road. Sometimes we picked vegetables to make ends meet. We hardly went to school. Jed has a serious screw loose. Last time I saw him he was wearing an aluminum foil beanie on his head. He was the first person to give me a joint!”
“Yet the lot of you came up good. I met your other brother and your sister at the wedding. How do you suppose the lot of you managed to be so normal? And smart?”
She shrugged. “Aside from Cal, maybe we’re not. Sedona is so controlling we can’t visit longer than two days and Dakota—no one knows Dakota. He’s been to war so many times, he’s gotta have some serious issues. Then there’s me...” She decided to take another drink of her coffee rather than expound.
“You’re a little hard on yourself,” he said. “That’s okay, I understand that. But put that on your list of things to work out—what you got in your childhood to prepare you for this life. And, what you might do to give yourself a break.”
* * *
Sierra wanted to sit at that lunch counter and visit with Sully all morning, but she had made commitments. She promised to call Beth, for one thing. She met Beth in recovery and asked her to be her sponsor. Beth had five years under her belt but that was about all they had in common. Beth was forty-five, had two teenage sons, Talk about a reason to drink!, a mean ex-husband, a large extended family and her parents were elderly but healthy and active. When Sierra finally decided to move to Colorado, she and Beth talked about staying in touch, at least for a while, but Sierra had promised to find a sponsor in her new home.
There was a meeting in Leadville at seven. It was being held in a rec center and when she arrived, she read the marquee at the front door for the room number. There was also a sleeve of pamphlets that listed all the classes and activities for the center. AA, yoga, Pilates, water aerobics and a variety of other things. There were groups and classes for all ages all day long but in the evenings there was a veritable smorgasbord of support—solo parenting, grief group, singles, nicotine anonymous, AA, Al-Anon and Alateen.
She could smell the coffee. One thing about AA, the setting was almost always familiar—the folding chairs, the podium, the big box of doughnuts next to the disposable coffee cups. She was a little early and there were only a few people milling around. One of them was that sourpuss from the bookstore, so she smiled at him again. His expression softened only slightly, but he approached her.
“I don’t think we’ve met,” he said. “I’m Moody.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said. “Didn’t you sleep well?”
“My name is Moody,” he said, clearly unamused.
Well, that would explain things. His mother named him Moody and he spent the rest of his life living down to it. She put out her hand. “Sierra,” she said. “I’m new in town. Well, not this town. I live near Timberlake, which is how I saw you in the bookstore.”
“How long have you been around here?” he asked.
“Just a few days, but I found a job at that diner across from the bookstore. My brother and sister-in-law are nearby and I was ready for a change. I lived in Iowa.”
“Coffee?” he asked. “Doughnut?”
“I’m about coffee’d out already,” she said. “I’ll just sit down and wait till the meeting gets started.” A few more people were straggling in. “Have you been coming to this meeting long?”
“Long,” he said. “Anything I can tell you about it?”
She shrugged. “I’m pretty familiar with the program. I’m nine months sober,” she said.
“Good for you!” he said. His expression became more open, but he was stuck with that dour countenance. “I’m happy for you,” he added. “You’re young. Would you like to meet a few people?”
“Maybe after,” she said, noticing still more people entering the room. “Thanks, though. That’s nice of you.”
She had hoped this might be a small meeting, five or six people. By the time Moody was ready to begin, there were at least thirty. He had his agenda, typed in large print and slipped between protective plastic sleeves—even that seemed almost universal. They had a prayer, recited the steps, called out to newcomers. Sierra jumped up, just to get it out of the way. She still hated this part. “My name is Sierra,” she said.
“Hi, Sierra,” they said in unison.
“I just moved to the area, looking for a meeting, just meeting people.” She explained she was in recovery nine months and they clapped for her. There were a few comments—this meeting was a good one before work, they called themselves The Sunny Side Up.
There were two more newcomers—a woman about fifty, fresh out of rehab, a guy about thirty, here by court order and needing thirty days of signed chits. And then a guy stood up and said his name was Mark. He didn’t add that he was an alcoholic but Sierra thought, We have a winner! His coloring was pale with splotches, he was trembling, his eyes were red and watering. He was a little stooped—his gut hurt. Chances were good he was just coming off a bender. They were going to corral him right after the meeting, she bet. Nothing more was required of him, just that he listen. And he might bolt, but they were already on to him. Something might’ve happened to get him to a meeting. His wife might’ve finally left him, he could’ve lost his job or spent one too many nights in jail. He didn’t look like he’d been in a fight. Just real hungover. As usual, she asked herself if she’d ever looked that bad.
When the meeting was over, people scattered pretty fast. This was, after all, a before-work meeting—convenient. She met a couple of women who welcomed her and told her they hoped she’d join them again and she said she probably would, but she wasn’t sure of anything except one thing—she was going to scope out the locations and times of the meetings around her so she wasn’t searching for one when she absolutely needed one.
Maybe she’d come again. She liked moody Moody for no apparent reason. He might be grumpy but he seemed steady.
She went to Cal’s to explain her new living space and, predictably, he was thrilled to hear she’d be staying at the Crossing.
The next morning she got up extra early knowing Sully would be up, but instead of rushing off to a meeting, she hung around at the breakfast bar until Enid and Frank showed up. After visiting with them for a while, she did a little cleanup in the store, then headed for the garden.
After two hours in the garden she took a nap, read her book for a while, washed some of her clothes and offered to cook Sully’s dinner. And she thought, My God, this is living. There was no television in her cabin, but Sully offered his if she wanted to watch TV. “Just lock the door when you go home,” he said.