CHAPTER 20 – Trouble in Sully's Junction
"Colleen, please, I have to talk to you," Hannah begged her sister as they settled down together on the bus.
"Well, I don't want to talk to you."
"Don't be mad...let me explain..."
"Why don't you go sit someplace else," Colleen immediately retorted.
"I said I was sorry, Colleen. What more do you want?"
"I want you to leave me alone. Forget that we're 'sisters'," Colleen fired back with uncharacteristic viciousness.
"Well dang, maybe I will!" her sister returned, huffing impatiently and grabbing her backpack. "Think I'll sit with Becky."
"Fine!"
"Fine!"
Sneering at each other spitefully, the girls turned away from one another as Hannah jumped up and stepped over to her friend Becky's seat.
"Mind if I sit with ya?" she asked, casting a brooding glance at her sister, who kept her face turned resolutely toward the window.
"Have a seat," Becky replied, scooting her things out of Hannah's way. Hannah sat down and uncaringly dropped her backpack to the floor at her feet as she shrugged out of her jacket.
"What's wrong with your sister?" Becky asked, having overheard the sibling's tiff.
Hannah shrugged moodily, hurt by Colleen's rejection, but not wanting to trash her sister. "She's mad at me."
"Bet I know why," Becky murmured knowingly, turning to peek at the object of their conversation.
"Yeah? Why?" Hannah asked the other girl guardedly, casting her a sideways glance.
"I bet it's about that new boy, Richard," she answered, pointing with her chin toward the boy, sitting up toward the front of the bus.
"Why do you say that?" Hannah hedged, knowing Becky had a tendency to spread gossip and wanting to avoid causing her sister to be the subject of it.
"I think she likes him."
"So?" she hedged again.
"Well...I seen her watching him lots of times in class..." Becky insisted, a mischievous twinkle in her blue eyes. "And I seen him watching you."
"It ain't like that...we're just friends," Hannah insisted, staring at the back of the boy's head as he chatted with his seatmate.
"Well, okay...but don't say I didn't tell ya."
Hannah lapsed into silence, her mind replaying the events from earlier in the day...
"There's Richard..." Colleen had whispered as they sat together at lunch, watching as the cute boy headed their way carrying his tray to a table with a few of his friends.
"Hey, Hannah. Colleen," he greeted as he saw them watching him.
"Hey, Richard. How's your mare's leg doing?" Hannah spoke up, but Colleen sat tongue-tied.
"She was better this morning. Dad said it looks like she's gonna be alright," he answered, pausing by their table. Colleen gazed up at the boy, totally smitten as she stared starry-eyed at his handsome features of dark hair and intelligent brown eyes.
"That's good. Our mare, Mandy, had an infection like that once, but she's fine now," the girl returned, taking a sip from her milk carton.
"How long did it take for it to heal?" he asked interestedly, impressed with the pretty girl's knowledge of horses. He let his eyes roam over her beautiful, long honey-brown hair and stared into her vivid blue eyes as she pursed her lips, trying to remember.
"Um...about two weeks, I think." Then grinning, she added, "Dad had to spend a couple' nights out in the barn takin' care of her."
"Yeah...my dad slept out there last night..." he returned. Just then, his friends called to him from their table, and he cleared his throat. "Talk to ya later," he mumbled, moving on across the room.
When he was out of earshot, Colleen leaned close to her sister, staring straight into her eyes. "You like him, don't ya?"
"Sure."
"I mean...you LIKE him..." Colleen persisted, the expression in her brown eyes lending explanation to her meaning.
Hannah had just taken a bite of her pizza and nearly choked, gasping, "No, I don't like him THAT way. His family has horses like we do, you know that, and we've been talking about that."
Colleen turned her head, swiping a strand of blond hair from her face, and gazed at him across the room, unconsciously smiling as she watched him laugh at something one of his friends said. Just then, he looked across at the two girls. Colleen immediately whipped her head back around.
"Colleen! You like him!" Hannah gasped, grinning and covering her mouth.
"Sshh! Promise you won't tell a soul!"
Hannah nodded, still grinning, realizing she had never seen her sister go gaga over a boy before.
"I...I have dreams about him," Colleen confessed softly, grinning hugely. "When I see him...I get all nervous and jumpy, and I forget how to talk. But when we're in class...he keeps watchin' me. I look up, and he's starin' right at me."
Hannah's mouth dropped open at this revelation. "Really? Gosh! Have you talked to him?"
"No...every time he gets near, I can't think of anything to say," Colleen admitted in frustration, taking a large bite of her pizza.
"Well, you gotta talk to him...you've had brothers all your life, you know how to talk to boys..."
"Well, not about that kind of stuff! But...maybe you could for me..."
"Me?" Hannah gaped at her sister as if she'd asked her to jump off the roof.
"Yeah, you're already talking to him...just...try to find out what he thinks of me," Colleen asked, eyes pleading.
Hannah, eyes large, murmured with a shrug, "How'm I gonna do that?"
"Just kinda drop it in." At Hannah's hesitation, she added, "Please? I'd do anything for you if you asked, you know that..."
Biting her lip, a feeling of 'this ain't a good idea' rising within, she huffed a sigh at her eagerly begging sister. "All right...I'll try..."
Colleen grinned and leaned to give her sister a hug. "Thanks, Hannah! You're the best sister ever."
Remembering those words, uttered so recently, Hannah turned in her seat to look at her sister, who was still steadfastly staring out the window at the passing landscape, and grimaced as she thought about what had happened next. As they had walked back to class, Richard had sidled up to her to ask a question about their math homework and she had casually told him that there was someone who liked him.
He had responded with, "Really? I think I know who...and I like her too. Think she would meet me under the slide at recess?"
"Um, I don't know..." she had hesitated, knowing everyone called the huge wooden structure the 'sweethearts slide'.
"If she really likes me, she will," he prompted insistently.
"I'll tell her," she had replied with a shrug.
But at the first chance she had to whisper this to Colleen after they had returned to class, she noticed her sister not looking too well. Hannah closed her eyes as she remembered asking Mrs. Swigert if she could help her sister to the bathroom, where they found out that Colleen had suddenly and unexpectedly joined the world of womanhood. Hannah pressed her lips together as she thought about their camaraderie during those moments and Colleen begging her to meet Richard under the slide and make some excuse. Oh, how she wished she hadn't! Grimacing again, she remembered the scene...
Sneaking off from the games in the gym, Hannah had ducked under the massive wooden slide structure to wait, the boys having their recess on the other side of the playground. She had hugged her arms across her chest and shivered, regretting her decision to not wear her jacket.
Suddenly, he had appeared and slipped inside, murmuring, "I hoped it was you..." but before she could explain, he had reached toward her, grabbed her arms, and awkwardly tried to haul her forward for a kiss!
"Don't!" she had squealed with shock, and broke away, slipping out of the enclosure to run back to the gym, but he had caught her arm.
"Hey, I thought you liked me..." he had squawked, leaning to try and kiss her again, and that time she had let him touch his lips to hers. Movement caught her eye, and she gasped as she saw the shocked and angry face of her sister standing just outside the gym door. Colleen had disappeared inside just as Hannah broke away from the boy, and made a beeline back to the warmth and safety of the building.
The rest of the afternoon, she had tried to get Colleen aside and explain, but her sister had been livid with jealousy.
OOOOOOOOO
"So...what're you giving me for Valentine's Day?" Ingrid asked playfully, grinning when her blue-eyed boyfriend began to squirm and sputter.
"Eh, it's...it's a surprise," he managed, grinning sheepishly and hoping she couldn't tell that he had not yet decided.
Leaning over, he brushed her lips with his, glancing around to make sure they weren't being too closely observed, as their bus monitor had very strict rules about conduct.
"And what are you givin' me?" he murmured playfully.
"Oh...a box of 'Noneya," she answered, giggling and squirming out of his reach as he began to tickle her.
"Oh, 'Noneya', huh? We'll see about that!"
"Matthew, stop! Stop, please!" she squealed with a gasp, laughing, striving to get in a few tickles in retaliation, but unable to penetrate his thick winter jacket as a pair of first graders in the seat in front of them turned and giggled at their antics. Finally, she managed to grasp both his hands and hold them tight. He grinned rakishly and easily escaped her hold, quickly wrapping his arms around her and trapping both of her hands against his chest, holding her at his mercy.
"Ha ha! Now what'cha gonna do?" he murmured, nose to nose as they gazed breathlessly into one another's eyes, each suddenly very aware of the other's close proximity. The students in the seat across the aisle from the pair giggled softly.
"Mr. Sully... Miss Craig," the monitor, Mrs. Stansberry, called in her aggravatingly stern voice. The sweethearts knew exactly what she meant and moved a little from one another on the seat, knowing they were in danger of being completely separated. The monitor smiled in satisfaction and turned her head. Every face on the bus, including Brian and Anthony, Ingrid's sisters, Matthew's sisters, and Jared and his sisters, all turned and stared at them, the younger ones giggling and snorting that the 'older kids' got in trouble. Ingrid felt her face turn beet red.
"The old wind bag," Matthew muttered.
"Matthew, hush!" she whispered back, wishing to avoid any more trouble.
"What? I don't care if she hears me," he murmured, allowing what had been a thoroughly frustrating day of difficult classes to finally begin to get to him.
"Well, I do. I don't wanna get in trouble, or worse, get suspended from the bus. My mom would hit the roof!" she returned in a harsh whisper.
"Ahh, that ain't gonna happen...and besides, she's lookin' the other way. C'mere," he whispered, his hormones getting the better of him as he couldn't seem to keep his hands off his beautiful girlfriend. Before she could stop him, Matthew had seized her again and proceeded to kiss her soundly. She brought her hands up to his shoulders with the intention of pushing him away, but to the amused onlookers, it looked quite the opposite.
"Miss Craig, come up to the front seat – now!" The monitor called firmly. Everyone on the bus had gone back to their normal chatter after the first reprimand, but now clamped their mouths shut, some with their hands over their mouths – as they watched the interesting action unfold.
Matthew mumbled something unintelligible under his breath as Ingrid, her face burning with humiliation, pushed her boyfriend away angrily, grabbed her coat and backpack, and made her way up front, feeling like she was running the gauntlet as she and Matthew had been sitting in the back. It was sheer torture to walk past each seat and try not to notice the amused and shocked faces staring back at her. She knew as soon as the bus stopped at her house, her sisters would fly to their mother and tattle the entire episode. Closing her eyes, she ground her teeth in aggravation.
Anger toward her boyfriend began to burn within. Why was she in trouble and not him?
Plopping down in the seat across from the stern faced woman, Ingrid crossed her arms over her chest as she waited for her stop to arrive, smoldering with anger and humiliation.
OOOOOOOOO
Michaela looked over from frying some ground beef as the kids filed in from school, three of the four sad-faced and quiet.
"My goodness, such long faces..." she murmured, glancing at her husband as he lounged against the counter next to the stove, sipping a cup of coffee. He shrugged in answer to her silent question.
Hannah flopped down on the couch in the living room as Colleen went on upstairs, neither saying a word of greeting to their parents.
At Michaela's raised eyebrow, Sully nodded, pushed himself away from the counter and put his cup down, strolling into the living room. Sitting down next to his daughter, he sensed something was 'out of sync' with her.
"Hey...you all right?" he murmured, reaching over to gently cup the back of her head, waiting. Finally, she turned and looked into his eyes, then reached for his hand and held it tight, just wordlessly returning his gaze.
Suddenly, he remembered their conversation in the Escalade, on the trip home from Boston so long ago, when they had agreed on their secret signal. He had told his precious daughter that if she ever needed one on one 'father' time with him, all she had to do was take hold of his hand and he would know. Until this moment, she had never exercised that special privilege.
Giving her a conspiratorial wink, he stood, pulling her up with him as he called to his wife, "Be back in a few minutes...we're gonna take a walk."
Michaela had been watching the pair from her vantage point in the kitchen and instinctively knew. She nodded and smiled.
Pulling his headstrong yet sensitive daughter behind him, he reached for his buckskin jacket, ushering her out the door ahead as he slipped his arms in the sleeves.
"Whew, it's cold out here...c'mere," he murmured, opening the Escalade's passenger door. She scooted in quickly, and he sprinted around to the driver's side. Inserting the key in the ignition, he started the motor and soon had the interior heating up comfortably.
Rubbing his hands together, Sully turned toward his little girl, noticing the more mature line of her profile as she gazed thoughtfully out the windshield.
"What's up, sweet girl?"
Now that she had her father to herself, Hannah suddenly felt shy about the reason for her upset. Glancing at him, she shrugged and clamped her lips.
"You don't know?" he teased softly, his eyes twinkling fondly.
Hannah chewed gently on her lip, trying to corral the words in her mind to even start to discuss the problem with her father. In all her years, and all of the heart-to-heart talks they had had, the subject had never been about boys. She wondered how he would react...and how much she should confide.
"I...Colleen's mad at me," she finally answered.
He nodded and pursed his lips a bit. "Wanna tell me why?"
Suddenly, she dissolved in tears. "I always wanted a sister," she squeaked, "Somebody I could share a room with, go to school with, share secrets with..."
"And ya got that...she'll always be your sister," Sully soothed, reaching out a hand and caressing the back of her head, his heart contracting that his precious little girl was so upset.
She shook her head, wiping away tears with the back of one hand. "She hates me now. I betrayed her..."
"Betrayed her? How?" he asked softly.
"Richard...she likes him..." she sniffled.
"The boy that moved with his family in to the old Whitlow place and started at your school?"
"Yeah, and now, after the sweetheart's slide, he likes me instead..."
Sully wasn't sure what this 'sweetheart's slide' was, but he murmured comfortingly, "Honey, just talk to her, it's not your fault that he..."
"She won't talk to me!" she agonized, busting into tears again, confused by her feelings toward Richard and her guilt toward her sister. Suddenly, words poured forth. "She wanted me to find out if he liked her...but he wanted her to meet him under the slide...but she wasn't feelin' good...then before I could tell him..." she hesitated and shrugged miserably.
Sully drew her in his arms. "Aww sweet girl. Ssshhh," he murmured, pressing her tear moistened face against the soft, fragrant leather on the front of his jacket, and smoothing her hair, rocking her gently back and forth.
"Just keep tryin'. Make her know how important she is to you. And lemme tell ya, you're gonna have lots of boys interested in ya," he paused, swallowing at the thought of his little girl – girls – being pursued by teenage boys. Making himself continue, he murmured, "They'll come and they'll go. But you and Colleen are sisters, and you shouldn't destroy your relationship over a boy."
Nodding, Hannah sat up straighter and wiped her eyes, taking Sully's proffered bandanna as he continued, "Now, I don't know what happened exactly, but you go on up to your room with her and shut the door, tell her how you feel, even if you don't think she's listenin'. Okay?"
Sniffling, she nodded again and smiled a watery grin up at her handsome, caring father.
"I'll try. I love you, Daddy."
He smiled in return, his eyes sparkling with love for his precious offspring. Bringing a hand up, he cupped her cheek lovingly. "Love you, too, punkin'," he murmured, using the familiar nickname he had given her when she was tiny.
Biting her lip as a thought came to her, she searched his eyes for a moment. "Um...don't tell Mom about this, okay? I...I don't want her to be disappointed in me," she explained haltingly.
"Hannah, she wouldn't be..."
"Please? Promise?" the girl insisted, two pairs of vivid blue eyes delving deeply, correctly reading a myriad of thoughts and emotions – concern, love...apprehension, guilt. Sully knew he couldn't deny his daughter's request, not when it seemed to mean so much to her.
Pressing his lips together in resignation, he nodded assent, whispering, "Promise," prompting his honey-haired daughter to wrap her arms around him in a grateful hug with a whispered, "Thanks, Dad."
As they filed back in the front door a few moments later, Hannah turned to hug her father around his waist once more before heading determinedly up the stairs – on a mission.
Once up to the door of the room she shared with Colleen, and finding it closed, she took a deep breath and opened it, immediately locating her sister sitting cross-legged on her bed, books and papers strewn on its surface.
Shutting the door behind her and walking slowly to her own bed, Hannah lowered herself down, swallowing nervously as she tried to gauge her sibling's mood.
"Colleen?"
"I don't wanna talk to you!" her sister interrupted, flashing angry, hurt eyes her way. Hannah's eyes widened in the face of Colleen's rage. "You're supposed to be my sister – but you took the one boy I had feelin's for," Colleen ground out, turning her head and determinedly focusing on one of her notebooks.
"I'm sorry! But...it turned out...he had feelin's for me..." Hannah cried emotively.
Tears sprang to Colleen's eyes, and she clamped her teeth together, the emotional pain seeming too much to bear. Shaking her head miserably, she ground out, "Gosh, with a sister like you, who needs enemies?"
Hannah gasped at the vicious words, tears springing to her eyes. She jumped up from the bed, reaching out to touch her sister's arm, pleading for understanding, but she flinched away from her touch. "Colleen..."
"Leave...me...alone," her once loving sister replied icily.
"Not till you listen..." Hannah began, her mouth dropping open slightly when Colleen grabbed her ipod headphones and stuck them on her head, turning up the volume to be sure to drown out any spoken words her sister may utter.
With a sigh of defeat, Hannah turned and reached for her own backpack, dishearteningly beginning her own homework.
OOOOOOOOO
Michaela smiled as she watched their daughter go, then turned to her husband, wiping her hands on a dishtowel.
"That didn't take long..." she prompted, hoping he would offer to tell her the subject of discussion without her having to ask.
"Nope," he answered, smiling at her, lips shut, dimples prominent.
"Is everything all right?" Michaela asked softly, gazing up at him expectantly.
Remembering his promise, he answered nonchalantly, "Yep. I took care of it," as he took a seat at the kitchen table instead of returning to his place beside her at the stove.
Forcing a small smile, she managed, "Oh. Well, that's good," and then turned back to the stove to stir the pot of chili she was preparing and add some seasonings, commencing to tell him about a conversation she had had with her sister Rebecca that morning.
After several minutes, with Sully offering an occasional grunt in response, Michaela related a particularly funny piece of information and turned for his reaction, only to find him gazing rather intently at his cell phone.
"Sully...are you listening?"
He looked up then with what she thought was a trace of guilt in his expression, but he quickly masked it with a swift, "Huh? Oh yeah...yeah, that was real funny."
Aggravation and a little bit of hurt began to burn in Michaela's chest. This wasn't like her normally attentive husband. What was going on with him? She realized he had been acting different, progressively so, for several days. Gathering a breath to ask him point blank, she was interrupted by the sound of their two sons clomping down the homestead stairs. Rounding the corner, Brian asked loudly, "When's supper? I'm hungry!"
Sully stood up then and crossed to the stove, leaning to give his wife a kiss on the cheek. "I need to go check on somethin'. How long before supper?"
Michaela blinked at him, a little stunned at his evasiveness, but answered dutifully, "About twenty minutes."
"Okay. See ya in a bit."
She watched him go outside and shut the door behind him. Drawing in a large sigh, she shook her head, determined to just let the subject drop and not make a mountain out of a molehill. She was startled, however, to hear the engine of Sully's pickup roar to life.
Glancing at their two sons, who didn't seem to think this an odd occurrence, she turned back to the stove to continue with preparing the meal.
OOOOOOOOO
"Hey Matthew," the shopkeeper greeted the young man as he came through the door. The tiny bell overhead tinkled gaily, seeming in direct contrast to the young man's mood.
"Hey Mr. Bray," the youth returned, and then smiled his half grin at the look on the older man's face. "Grandpa Loren," he corrected.
The old man smiled at that, stepping down from the ladder from which he had been putting up stock. "What'cha need?" he prompted when he noticed his adopted grandson just standing by the counter, seemingly deep in thought.
"Oh, um...Mom sent me up here for some crackers and shredded cheese...she's makin' chili," he explained, making his way after the specified items.
Bringing them to the counter, his gaze went back to nothing again as he lapsed back into thought.
Loren rang up the purchases and placed them in a bag, picking up the money Matthew had laid on the counter. Making change, he turned again to the young man, tapping his hand to get his attention.
"You okay, Matthew?" the old man asked concernedly.
"Yeah, sure," Matthew answered mechanically, taking the money and slipping it into a pocket.
Something in his expression clued the old man in and his eyes narrowed perceptively. Clearing his throat, he asked offhandedly, "So...how's that cute blond you've been goin' around with? Ingrid...right?"
Matthew met his adopted grandfather's wise old eyes then and felt himself blush. Shrugging, he admitted softly, "I, uh...did somethin' stupid and...she's mad at me."
Loren tried not to grin, clamping his lips together and nodding sagely. "You stuck your hand in a hornet's nest that was hid, huh?" Then before Matthew could answer, he chuckled self-deprecatingly and shook his head, adding, "I've sure done that myself...too many times."
Matthew smiled his half grin, raking his hand back through his hair. "I don't know what to do..."
"Tell her you're sorry, son," the older man advised matter-of-factly.
"I tried, she won't talk to me," he answered miserably, thinking of the dozen texts and phone calls she had ignored since she departed from the bus amidst a hail of teasing remarks from some of the younger passengers.
"Well then, try harder."
The young man closed his eyes and huffed a frustrated sigh. "Man, if this is what it's gonna be like...being with a woman...I don't know if I'm fit for it."
The old man chuckled, reaching out to clap a hand on his grandson's shoulder, man to man. "Lemme tell ya somethin' son. Man ain't meant ta be alone all his life. The Bible even says so. Everyone has to have a partner, or you become outta balance. It's nature," he added with a wiggle of his eyebrows.
Matthew chuckled then, turning his head a trifle shyly. "Yeah, well...Ingrid's a pretty strong force of nature," he returned, picturing how breathtakingly beautiful she was, especially when she was hopping mad and yelling at him. "But, how'm I gonna get her to talk to me?"
Loren pursed his lips, pondering the problem. "Well...what 'xactly did ya do ta make her so mad?"
Matthew really blushed then, and cleared his throat. "I, uh...I kissed her...on the bus," he paused, shrugging, "...and we got in trouble for it...well...she got in trouble. The monitor made her go sit up front," he explained, uncomfortably.
Loren chuckled rakishly, thinking like father, like son, remembering several occasions when he had witnessed Sully's amorous behavior embarrassing Michaela during their courtship, but knowing better than to utter that thought out loud. Instead, he advised, "Well, son...Valentine's Day is comin' – my advice is get her a present – and make it a DANG good one."
"A present...but what?"
Shaking his head, Loren murmured, "Now that, son, is somethin' you're gonna have ta figure out yourself." Then seeing the almost hopeless look in his grandson's eyes, he added gently, "Just let your heart lead ya, boy. It'll tell ya all ya need ta know."
Matthew met his eyes, and Loren winked encouragingly.
With a sigh, the young man picked up his purchases and made his way out to the Escalade, hoping his grandpa was right.
OOOOOOOOOO
The next day the sky decided to produce cold rain and wind, a chillingly miserable combination, which happened to mirror Michaela's disposition.
Sully had come back the previous evening and had eaten supper with the family, but then made excuses and left again, not returning until after Michaela and the children had gone to bed. When she had questioned him about his whereabouts, he had hemmed and hawed, mumbling something about errands.
Now, staring at the sealed envelope she held in one hand, Michaela gripped the phone, striving valiantly to pay attention to what her sister was saying.
At a pause, Rebecca asked, "Michaela? Honey, are you all right?"
"What? Oh. Yes, yes, I'm fine," she murmured unconvincingly.
"You don't sound fine."
"It's nothing...really," Michaela assured, but her very astute sister knew better.
"'Chaela, what is it? Are you feeling all right? The baby? One of the kids?" Rebecca guessed, fishing for a reason for her normally upbeat sister's quietness.
Mulling over whether or not to even voice her feelings, Michaela drew in a breath, fingering the envelope again.
"I...I found an envelope, folded, in the back pocket of Sully's jeans when I was sorting the laundry...his name is written on the front...in an obviously feminine hand...the envelope...perfumed..."
"Oh..." Rebecca murmured, at a loss of what to say, as that was the last thing she had expected to hear. She bit her lip, her brow furrowed in concern, knowing Michaela had to be reliving a similar incident involving David – and that had turned out disastrous. It had been the beginning of her finding out about him having an affair with the unit secretary at the hospital.
"I mean...I'm sure there must be a dozen reasons for a lady to write my husband...I just... can't think of one," Michaela added softly, sniffing the offending envelope and trying to decide if the perfume seemed familiar.
"I'm sure there's an explanation," Rebecca encouraged cheerfully, though at that moment, she couldn't think of one either. After a few moments of silence, she suddenly blurted, "Open it!"
"I couldn't do that! It's sealed...with Sully's name on it," Michaela responded firmly, her strict code of ethics forbidding her to commit such an offense.
"Well...I'm sure it's nothing, Michaela," Rebecca soothed, glancing at her husband as he entered the room, eyebrows raised at hearing her statement. "If he were trying to hide it from you, surely he wouldn't have left it in the pocket of his jeans..."
Michaela drew in a deep breath, determined to give her husband the benefit of the doubt. "Yes, I'm sure you're right. Look, um...someone is beeping in...I'll talk to you later...all right?"
"Yes, of course..." Rebecca murmured softly as she heard her sister disconnect the call. She and Robert met each other's eyes, neither wanting to believe that their wonderful, attentive, loving brother-in-law could possibly be up to no good. It was too horrible to even contemplate that Michaela would be destined to suffer another unfaithful husband.
Making a quick decision, Michaela refolded the envelope and slipped it back into the pocket, placing the jeans in the bottom of Sully's hamper, determined to push the incident from her mind.
OOOOOOO
That night, after the children were in bed, Michaela made herself comfortable on the couch and tried to occupy her mind by watching television, an open medical journal leaning unread against her belly. An hour later, Sully came in.
Divesting himself of his warm outer clothing and washing his hands in the kitchen, he came into the living room and stood warming himself by the fire, glancing at his seemingly occupied wife, and wondering what she was thinking about so pensively.
Michaela glanced over, catching his eye, and he smiled at her as he moved to draw near the couch.
"Whatcha watchin'?" he asked, since the only thing playing at that moment were commercials.
"Nothing really," she shrugged, fingering the journal. "Just waiting for you," she added, cocking her head to one side and gazing up at him.
"Mmm," he murmured, lowering down next to her on the couch.
"Where have you been all day?" she asked softly, striving with every fiber of her being to NOT sound like a harping, nagging wife.
"Out...errands...stuff...you know," he hedged, clearing his throat.
Before she could stop herself, she blurted, "I found this in the back pocket of your jeans this morning. Who is it from?" producing the envelope from her sweater pocket, having retrieved it from the hamper hours before.
Turning to view his face, Michaela was sure she caught a shocked expression in his eyes before he masked it with an appropriately affronted look. He took the envelope from her hand, turning it and noting that it was unopened.
"What? You checkin' up on me now?" he asked, a little surprised.
"No...merely curious," she backpedaled, knocked totally off balance by his reaction.
"I have a right to a little bit of privacy, same as you. That's all you need to know," he responded softly, his eyes holding hers steadily. Those blue eyes she loved so much now guarded, his emotions hidden behind a cool blue wall.
Suddenly he stretched his arms above his head, yawning. Glancing at her, he announced calmly, "I'm real tired. Think I'll go on up to bed. You comin'?"
Oh how she wanted to light into him! Words zipped through her mind to fling at him, but...suddenly it felt as if a valve was turned and all the air escaped from the tire, leaving her feeling flat and defeated. If Sully were having an affair, she wouldn't be able to bear it. No, her mind reeled from that thought, and she felt physically sick...it would absolutely crush her. If anything happened to separate them – it would rip her soul in two.
She blinked, resurfacing from her thoughts as she realized he was waiting for a response. She swallowed dryly and wordlessly nodded, watching as he picked up the remote and switched off the television, and then went over and hunkered down to bank the fire for the night. When he returned to the couch, where she had not moved a muscle, he offered a hand to help her up, and she accepted, needing to use two to pull herself free from the soft confines of the couch.
When they were standing face to face, she expected him to...nay, ached for him to...take her in his arms, but he merely smiled tiredly and turned to make his way toward the stairs.
Michaela numbly followed her husband, staring at the back of his wavy, collar length hair, her mind a battlefield of imagined scenarios.
After preparations for bed and stoking the fire in the bedroom fireplace, the two retired, drawing the covers up warmly. Sully reached for her hand and brought it to his lips for a kiss, yawning tiredly as he murmured, "G'night, sweetheart."
"Good night..." she answered back softly, feeling totally bereft that he wasn't snuggling against her and she still had no answers to her myriad of questions.
Before long, she heard his steady breathing as he slipped into a tired sleep.
OOOOOOOOO
He was gone from the house before she awoke.
So preoccupied were her thoughts, Michaela merely went through the motions of her day on Thursday, not really paying attention to the children or anything going on around her, or the fact that Hannah, Colleen and Matthew were dealing with traumas of their own. The only bright spot in her day was the baby being particularly active. She stopped often to just lay a hand on her stomach and watch its movements... wishing Sully were there to share the wonder.
That night, she waited up for him until she became so sleepy, she just couldn't wait any more, and made her way slowly up the stairs.
Has it really only been six weeks since Christmas? She mused. She thought back over their wonderful holiday in Boston, and how Sully had been so attentive, still so in love with her. Sighing, she remembered their magnificent lovemaking Christmas night, which had rivaled any they had experienced thus far in their marriage – including on their honeymoon...the night she told him he was the most romantic man in the world. She pictured him weeping in her arms at the thought of almost losing her in the shooting at the airport.
Now...he seemed so distant...and it had been ages since he had touched her intimately. He'd been staying away from home during the day, staying out late, or not even coming to bed at all, nearly every night that week – and every time she asked him about it, he made vague excuses.
Suffering in silence, but desperate for solace, though not wishing to blab her doubts and fears even to her closest friends or sister, Michaela turned to what had become a source of comfort and wisdom – Michaela's journal.
Turning her bedside lamp on low, she padded across to Sully's bureau to retrieve the treasured volume, climbing into bed and making herself comfortable, and carefully turning pages, following dates, until she came to the first dates in February.
Scanning the pages, the only thing of significance in 1868 being Michaela's birthday and the sign with which the townspeople had gifted her, and of course, Sully's 'birthday gift' of their first kiss. Michaela moved forward in the volume, until she came to February of the next year, but no Valentine celebration happened then, either. On the contrary, it was during the time when Michaela and Sully had suffered a terrible breakup regarding the 'white' Indian girl and were no longer even courting!
Sighing with fatigue, Michaela pushed on, needing to read something that would shed some light on her own situation, which so often paralleled that of her ancestor.
As she scanned the following year in the journal, passing such happenings as the town suddenly being overrun with the KKK, followed closely by a teacher welcomed with open arms who turned out to be an abuser, then Michaela's abduction by renegade 'dog soldiers' and finally Sully's proposal, Michaela turned pages until February dates began again.
Wiping tired eyes and reading carefully, she found what she was looking for. Settling down in the bed in anticipation, the old journal nestled upon the shelf of her belly, Michaela eagerly read her ancestor's words:
February 2, 1870
It is with a heavy heart that I write tonight. Evidently I am still so new at this business of 'romance', I seem to be stumbling over my own feet and floundering miserably. Sully has seemed so frustrated at my inability and unwillingness to be 'spontaneous' with him, so I had decided I would just drop my guard and 'bite the bullet' as it were. I asked him several days ago to spend Valentine's Day alone with me - the whole day, no schedules, no patients, nothing – just he and I, that I wanted it to be special this year. I had planned a picnic lunch at a secluded waterfall. He seemed genuinely pleased with the idea, and we shared several very pleasant kisses, the kind that always makes my heart flutter with excitement...
Then today, he casually informed me that Cloud Dancing wants him to attend an Indian Affairs conference in Denver – to be held February 12-15. When I reminded him that Valentine's Day was the 14th, he rolled his eyes and said, 'The picnic...I'll just tell 'em I can't make it'. My heart lurched – he had forgotten! I pretended that it didn't bother me and told him, of course, he should go – but oh, how I was hoping he would stand firm and declare that nothing would take him away from me on our special day. However...at my magnanimous release, he merely shrugged and said, "Alright," and led his horse on into Robert E.'s.
My fiancé, who has always been so attentive and romantic, always looking for any excuse to spend time alone with me, will - on the most romantic day of the year - be miles from my side. I told myself it didn't matter. That February 14th is just a day like any other day...but that isn't true. Oh, how it isn't true!
Michaela leaned her head back against the headboard, deep in thought. What was it about Valentine's Day? Did Sully men have an aversion to the holiday? She thought back to the previous year – she and Sully had been engaged...and Sully had merely given her a box of candy and a card. At the time, she had appreciated both, and hadn't felt slighted in the least, since he had presented them to her with much aplomb and more than just a few kisses – plus, the next day, her birthday, he had given her such a wonderful party and his beautiful gift of her charm bracelet.
But...it was Valentine's once again...and she was now quite pregnant and not the slim, lithe fiancée she had been then. She thought of all the times he had teased her about becoming as big as the barn. Teasing was often based in fact...could it be that he no longer found her...sexually alluring? Well...truth be told, how could she be? She was twenty-five weeks pregnant with his child, for Pete's sake! What did he expect?
More to the point...what do I expect? She pondered. Perhaps I'm just spoiled. He's spoiled me with his constant attention and devotion – leaps and bounds more than the average husband. Now...I've come to expect it...
Looking back at the volume in her hands and pushing away thoughts of the still mysterious letter she had found in his pocket, she forced herself to keep reading – hoping to gain insight into the habits and thoughts of Sully men. Skimming through details written by her ancestor about having to take her friend's place as director of the town's production of Romeo and Juliet, Michaela's eye caught Sully's name again.
In the midst of an exhausting day of rehearsals, Sully came by to bid me farewell before he left on his trip. I maintained a Boston 'stiff upper lip' the whole time, upsetting Brian, I'm afraid, who overheard our conversation. But deep down, my heart was screaming for Sully to decide, on his own, to forgo the conference and stay with me, to spend Valentine's Day...with me. However, my handsome fiancé merely murmured, "I'm sorry," swung himself up on his horse – without even giving me a kiss goodbye – and rode off without even one backward glance. So much for romance! Truly I do not understand...has his ardor for me...cooled?
Feeling decidedly worse after having read of her ancestor's disappointment, Michaela sighed heavily, stopped reading, and put the journal on her nightstand, dishearteningly turning off her lamp and beginning the now nightly dance of trying to find a comfortable position. It had become decidedly more difficult without the supportive body of her husband on which to lean, but it seemed Sully was once again remaining away.
Their bed was a lonely place without him.
OOOOOOOOO
The next morning dawned bright, clear, and brisk. Michaela awakened to the sun beaming in the window and into her eyes. Stretching, she turned her head, hoping to see her husband's beloved face asleep on his pillow, although when she had risen for the bathroom during the night he hadn't been there – but was quite disheartened to see merely the indention where his head had rested sometime during the night.
She sighed, wondering if she would even see him at all...on Valentine's Day.
Rolling awkwardly out of bed, Michaela made her way to the bathroom for her morning ablutions, and then dressing warmly, moved to the stairs to begin her descent. She could hear someone, presumably her husband, in the kitchen and could smell the aroma of breakfast cooking, a smile gracing her face at his thoughtful gesture.
Quietly, she descended the stairs, hoping to catch a glimpse of him before he noticed her, stopping near the bottom as she overheard her husband's hushed voice, apparently talking on the phone with someone.
"Yeah. Right. Oh I know...same here. Who, my wife? Nah, she ain't got a clue...but if she finds out, I know how to handle her, no sweat," he stated confidently, then chuckled. "Ok. See ya later. Bye," he murmured, ending his conversation very pleased with himself, having no clue his wife had overheard the last part of the conversation.