“Maggie?” Sully said from the hall. “Who the devil are you talking to?”
She jumped in surprise. He was wearing his pajamas, his white hair mussed and spiking. “Um...the television?”
“The TV isn’t on,” he said.
“Okay, I was talking back to a message from Andrew. You don’t dump someone and then leave a kind and caring message. Too little, too late.”
“Hmm,” he said, thinking on that for a moment.
“I guess I need a fresh start,” she informed him. “I’d like to go back to eighth grade and redo everything.”
“I think this heart attack business has taken a toll on you,” he said. “I’m sorry about that.”
“It wasn’t exactly your fault,” she said. “Aside from your genetics, you’ve been in good health. Your father and grandfather probably had health issues they didn’t even know about. At least yours is resolved.”
“I understand all that, but there’s one thing you’re going to have to make peace with one way or another. I’m seventy. I’m going to die before you do.”
“That takes a toll,” she informed him. “Remember you said you weren’t quite ready? You remember saying that? In the ambulance?”
“If God takes me home in March it’s only because he means to punish everyone I hold dear, from the folks who help run this little place to all the folks who pass through. I wasn’t done with the cleanup. That’s all I meant by that. Now, will you take one of them anxiety pills that are so popular and get some sleep? Unless you want to bitch at Andrew’s message some more, of course.”
“I thought coming back here would help me get perspective,” she said.
“We been in Denver, Maggie. We haven’t been back two full days. Even God needed seven to get it together. Jesus.” He ran a hand over his head and wandered back to his bedroom.
“I’ve always had kind of high expectations of myself,” she yelled at his back.
“No shit,” he returned.
Maggie woke up at first light and walked into the kitchen. There were no signs of life and Sully’s bedroom door stood open. He’d made his bed and was gone. This was typical of life here—he rarely put on a pot of coffee at the house, only in the worst of winter when venturing to the store was a useless chore. In spring, summer and fall he dressed and trudged over to the store where he’d start the big pot for Enid.
Before she even got up the steps to the back porch, she spied Sully. He was down at Cal Jones’s campsite sitting on a small camp stool, holding a mug of coffee on his knee, petting Beau with the other hand. Cal, on the other hand, was crouched before a small grill, sitting on the heel of his boot, stirring something in a frying pan. She caught the unmistakable aroma of bacon.
When Beau saw her he got up, started wagging his tail and ran to her as though he hadn’t seen her in weeks. “Good morning, gentlemen. Something smells good.”
Cal cracked two eggs on top of his bacon and covered the pan. “I’d be happy to make you breakfast,” he said.
“That’s very nice of you. I’ll get some in the store in a minute. Dad, I was hoping you’d sleep in.”
“And here I was hoping you would,” Sully said. “I can’t stay in bed, Maggie. I get all creaky and it takes too long to work out the kinks. Besides, this is the best time of day.”
“It is a beautiful morning,” she agreed. She wanted to discuss the coffee—just one cup, please. And activity today—nothing strenuous. Diet, they could talk about diet, and it wouldn’t include bacon... But Cal distracted her by popping open a camp stool for her to join them. “Thanks,” she said.
She watched as Cal put two pieces of bread he’d toasted on the grill onto a plate. Then he lifted his bacon and eggs out of the pan. He sat across the grill from Sully, plate on his knees, and worked away at his breakfast.
“That bacon smells every bit as good as I recall,” Sully said.
“If you stay away from the wrong foods you’ll live longer,” Maggie reminded him.
“I probably won’t. But it’ll damn sure seem longer.”
Cal laughed.
“What’s Cal short for?” Maggie asked.
He swallowed and looked at her. “You’ve been googling me.”
“I have not!” she said.
“Is that what you were doing on the computer half the night?” Sully asked.
She scowled at him. “I’m just curious. Calvin? Caleb?”
“Why? Does one of those guys have a record?” Cal asked.
“How would I know?” she returned, but she colored a little. She’d always been a terrible liar.
He laughed at her. “I just go by Cal,” he said.
“You won’t tell me?”
“I think this is more fun.”
A car pulled into the grounds followed by Frank’s beat-up red truck. “There’s Enid and Frank. I take it you started the coffee?” Maggie asked.
“I did. And ate a bowl of that instant mush,” Sully said.
“What’ve you got to do today, Sully?” Cal asked. “What can you use help with?”
“Just the regular stuff. I can probably handle it with Maggie’s help. You know—shelf stocking, cleaning up, inventory. Hardly any campers yet so we’re not too far behind, but they’re coming. We have spring break coming up. I’m gonna have Tom and two of his kids to help this weekend and we’ll get that garden in. Once it’s in, I can handle it, plus the doctor said I should be back in the swing of things in a couple of weeks.”
“No. He didn’t,” Maggie pointed out. “He said you’d probably be moving slow for six weeks and in a few months you’d be in good shape. But no lifting anything over ten pounds for at least six weeks, preferably ten.”
“Thank God you were listening, Maggie,” he said sarcastically. “Otherwise I might’ve just killed myself planting a carrot.”
Maggie got up, turned and started walking to the store. “I don’t appreciate the attitude,” she said.
“I’m about ready to get out a big cigar and see how
