Chapter 24
Michaela yanked her hair back into a pony tail as she hurried down the stairs. She had finally fallen asleep at 3am and consequently slept straight through her alarm. Only the clatter of dishes blended with Becky's dulcet tones as she sang along to the radio in the kitchen had finally roused her.
"Coffee please," begged Michaela as she hurtled into the kitchen and started opening cupboards at random, hunting for her flask.
"Good morning to you too," replied Becky, flipping a pancake expertly onto a plate.
"I got a cup here ready for you," she added, gesturing to the counter where a steaming cup of coffee was waiting, "come sit down and eat."
"Can't," replied Michaela through a mouthful of banana, "I'm late. My car's in the shop so I have to take the bus."
"I'll drive you to work," offered Becky, "I'm heading out that way anyway. Come sit down, let's talk."
"Talk about what?" queried Michaela flatly as she dropped into one of the chairs clustered around the weathered breakfast table.
"Michaela," breathed Becky softly, her tone full of emotion as she surveyed the pain in her sister's eyes, "what happened last night?"
Michaela swallowed hard, her hands tightening around the coffee mug as though in an attempt to keep herself from completely falling apart.
"He told me he loved me," she finally offered, her voice barely above a whisper, "that he always has."
"And what did you say?" probed Becky gently.
"I was….harsh," confessed Michaela brokenly, "It was such a shock, I hardly knew what to think. I lashed out, I couldn't stop myself and then, he was gone.
"And then, there's this," she continued, pulling a small velvet box from her pocket.
"What am I going to do?" Michaela finished quietly, tears trickling miserably down her cheeks.
"Take some time," suggested Becky, reaching out to grab her sister's hand. "It's been a crazy few days. So just take some time to process things. Think about what you want. This is your decision Michaela. No one can tell you what to do."
"Danny is a great guy," continued Michaela, glancing up at her sister as though seeking confirmation, "he's smart and kind and funny. We've been together for three years now and he understands me, my career. We want the same things in life. He'd be a good choice, a safe bet."
Becky simply smiled down at her sister and took a sip of her coffee.
"Just take some time," she repeated, "you don't have to decide right away. Now hustle, or we really will be late."
"Hey Annie," chirped Michaela, as she pushed open the door, a large vase of fresh flowers in her arms.
"I found these downstairs so I swiped them for your room. Thought they'd brighten up the window sill."
"Thanks Mike," grinned the young girl, struggling to pull herself up, "you're always so sweet."
"Here, let me help you," offered Michaela, depositing her cargo and hurrying round to the side of the bed, "put your arm under mine."
"You're going to be a great doctor, Mike," continued Annie after a moment, colour flooding her cheeks as it always did these days and her chest heaving slightly with the effort of sitting up, "you care so much about people. You don't have a cruel bone in your body."
Michaela smiled wanly down at the patient who, during her time volunteering at the hospice, had become more than just a friend. Her mind darted back to the events of the previous night and as she recalled her hurtful comments with painstaking clarity, she murmured unbidden under her breath, "I'm not so sure about that."
"Hey, Mike, I've been meaning to ask you something, do you mind?"
"Of course not," replied Michaela, shaking her head briskly as though to dispel her previous thoughts and hitching a smile on her face, "ask me anything!"
"Your tattoo," began Annie, pointing down at Michaela's exposed forearm, "it's so intricate and yet so odd. I've never seen one like it. Is there a story behind it?"
Michaela held out her forearm and frowned, tracing over the jet black whorls with the tip of her left index finger.
"It's an old celtic design" she explained softly, "it was used to express devotion and commitment, to someone or something special. But it's only half of it."
"So where's the other half?" queried Annie, a knowing smile pulling at the corner of her lips as she watched Michaela's eyes brighten.
"It doesn't matter," replied Michaela suddenly, turning away before the tears could fall and betray her. "I best get going, I'll see you later."
"Michaela! You're back!" exclaimed Charlie, leaping up from her chair as Michaela wearily pushed open the door to the suite.
"Grace, she's here!" she yelled before grabbing Michaela by the arms and fairly dragging her to the sofa.
"Get in here Mike and tell us what happened last night! Did he propose? How did he do it? What did you say?"
"Charlie, back off and let the poor girl breathe," chuckled Grace as Michaela slumped down into an arm chair.
"Is everything ok?" she queried as she registered her room mate's pale features and reddened eyes.
"Not really," admitted Michaela, too exhausted to keep up the pretence any longer. "Have you guys seen Sully? I really need to talk to him."
"Sully?" queried Charlie, her brow furrowing in concern, "but Sully's gone. We thought you knew."
"Gone?" replied Michaela blankly, panic tightening her stomach, "gone where?"
"He stopped by the apartment to tell us," continued Grace quickly. "He got a call from the hospital, something about his Mom. She's not doing too good so he's going home."
"When did he leave?" burst out Michaela, leaping up from her seat, her heart racing as she snatched up her bag and started searching for her keys.
"Michaela," began Charlie helplessly.
"When?" repeated Michaela angrily as she flipped her hair impatiently out of her face and pulled on her coat
"A couple of hours ago," offered Grace quietly.
Michaela nodded mutely in gratitude and wrenched open the front door, her mind in disarray once more as she hurtled down the stairs towards the car park.
Sully leant heavily against the kissing gate and stared unseeingly across the open space before him. It was a beautiful spot, awash with daisies and dandelions swaying in the light summer breeze. It was early and the full force of the oppressive Colorado heat was still slumbering, as though waiting to be sure the small town had committed to a long day's work before it struck.
Sully closed his eyes and swallowed hard. The last few days had been a blur. He hadn't slept since he had received the call urging him to come back, to come home. He'd barely made it. She had had so few breaths left, so little time left to tell him how much she loved him and for him to apologise in turn, over and over, for leaving her behind. His words had caught in his throat, scuppered by the tears he couldn't let fall in front of her. Yet she had just smiled knowingly at him and reached for his hand. And as the memory of her thin fingers turning cool and lax in his grip overwhelmed him, he let the grief devour him. His shoulders slumped as the sobs wracked his frame and tears fell unchecked down his cheeks.
"I should have been here for you," he choked out to the skies, the wooden posts whining in protest as his tightened his iron grip.
"No," came a soft whisper from behind him, "I'm the one who should have been here for you."
Sully whirled around at the familiar voice. His heart leapt and then shattered as he took in her slender form, tendrils of her long hair twisting gently against her face in the breeze. She had been his world for so long; her magnetic persona enough to pull him away from this dead end town, to follow helplessly along the course she had set. And yet now, everything had changed.
"I'm sorry I missed the funeral, I couldn't get a flight out soon enough," explained Michaela quietly, stepping forward.
"I'm so, so sorry Sully," she continued, swallowing hard over the lump in her throat, "Your mom was so sweet and loving to everyone. I'm really going to miss her."
"Why didn't you call me? I would have flown out with you right away," she queried softly. When he merely continued to stare mutely ahead, arms folded over his chest, Michaela dropped her gaze.
"Is it ok that I'm here Sully?" she offered hesitantly, pushing her hands deeper into the pockets of her jeans, "I mean, I didn't think. I just heard you'd gone and I came but I can go if…"
"It's fine," interrupted Sully abruptly, "it's fine that you're here.
"I was just heading home for the wake," he continued flatly, "but I guess you'll want to change first. Where are you staying?"
He cast a cool glance over Michaela's distinctly rumpled outfit and she instinctively pulled at the creased bottom of her white, cotton shirt. She couldn't remember the last time he had made her feel so awkward, so self-conscious and when his gaze lingered for a split second over her left hand, she couldn't control the flush of colour that rose to her cheeks.
"At Charlotte's," she replied, "in Matthew's old room. It's empty now that he's moved out."
"Come on," continued Sully as though he hadn't heard her explanation, "I'll drop you on the way."
Michaela watched sadly as he walked past her towards the old car he'd rebuilt when they were still in high school, all warmth and recognition wiped clean from his features. She desperately wanted to reach out to him, whether to give him a hug or shake him she wasn't quite sure. The whole flight down, she had been going over and over it in her mind – Danny, Sully, Boston, Colorado. She had been so certain that when she saw Sully again, she would be able to decide, to know exactly what she wanted. But now, as she watched him slip silently into the driver's seat and rev the battered engine, she found herself feeling more uncertain than ever.
Michaela manoeuvred deftly around the small sitting room, collecting up stray cups and plates from the coffee table and window sills before heading for the kitchen.
"That the last of them?" called Charlotte from the sink as she turned off the hot water tap, "Pass them over."
"Yes, that's everything I think," replied Michaela, balancing the crockery carefully atop the large pile on the draining board, "and here, let me do that. You should sit down and rest, you've done enough."
"I'm fine," protested Charlotte but as Michaela silently held out her hand for the sponge she sighed and conceded, "Well, I guess I ought to be heading home soon, anyway."
"You go," reassured Michaela softly, "I've got this."
"We've missed you, you know that?" offered Charlotte quietly, before pulling Michaela in for an unexpected hug.
"Yes," choked out Michaela, tears springing to her eyes at the sudden surge of emotion the embrace triggered, "I've missed you all too. I just wish…"
"I know," replied Charlotte, pulling away and squeezing her shoulder gently, "but she knew. You were like the daughter she never had and she loved you. She was so proud of you, going off like you did to follow your dreams. She even had a picture of you right there next to Sully, taped to the fridge."
"But Sully," began Michaela uncertainly, "I… I was so selfish. I just thought about how much I wanted him to come with me. I never stopped to think about what he was giving up, leaving behind. And now…"
"Sully made his own choice," interrupted Charlotte stoutly, "there was no changing his mind once he had it set on something. Reminds me of someone else I know."
At the knowing gleam in Charlotte's eyes, Michaela couldn't help but laugh softly, "I can't imagine who that might be."
"Just give him some time," finished Charlotte, as she grabbed her handbag off the back of the kitchen chair, "he'll come around."
"Time, yes" agreed Michaela mechanically, pushing back the tears, as Charlotte waved and vanished into the front room. Yet as the door swung shut behind her, Michaela sighed and whispered to the darkening room, "I'm not so sure he will."
The whine of the screen door broke through the silence but he remained motionless on the top step, arms resting on his knees, gazing unseeingly into the distance. The moon had risen but wasn't yet bright enough yet to illuminate the rugged landscape. Its pale gleam barely highlighted the treetops, turning them a pale, ghostly silver. Wolf yawned widely and snuffled closer, nuzzling against his ankle with his nose. As he reached down absentmindedly to pat the great furry head resting on his dress shoes, he felt her settle beside him, the light floral fragrance of her favourite perfume filling the cautious space she left between them.
"Everyone's gone," she offered quietly into the darkness, "I cleaned up the kitchen and packed the food into the fridge. I hope you like lasagna, looks like you'll be eating it for a while."
"I made coffee," she continued gently after a moment when her quip failed to thaw the figure next to her, "here, drink it before it goes cold. You know how much you hate cold coffee."
"Stop it, ok!" burst out Sully unexpectedly, snatching the chipped mug from her grip and slamming it down beside him with such force that the liquid sloshed up over the sides. "Stop trying to prove how well you know me, or how much you care about me, or whatever it is you that you're doing. Just stop it!"
Michaela was stunned. She'd never seen Sully this way before. They'd had their fair share of spates over the years but this was different. Sully's grief had cracked open a well of pain which splintered his entire being and remoulded it into something dark and elusive. She no longer recognised her friend behind the cobalt stare that sparked angrily as it surveyed her confused expression. There was no sign of the warmth, the comfort that he naturally exuded when he was around her. He was someone new, unfamiliar, and she stumbled over her words as she tried to rein him in.
"I'm sorry," she began slowly, "I know how difficult this is for you Sully…I'm just trying to help."
"Really?" snorted Sully derisively, "you know how I'm feeling?"
"Of course, I do," replied Michaela, "I've lost a parent too, remember?"
"Yeh, like I could forget," broke in Sully angrily, "it always comes back to you.
"Just answer me one thing," he continued, as the colour rose in Michaela's cheeks, "why did you even come here?"
"Why did I come here?" spluttered Michaela, her own temper rising to match Sully's as she sprang to her feet, "How can you even ask me that?"
"Well, I am asking," bit back Sully, rising to stand before her. She was so petite that even though she stood on the step above him, he was still taller than her. He hadn't counted on her fury though. As he glared down into the mismatched eyes that he had for so long considered home, he saw the fear, the uncertainty reflected there and for a moment he faltered. She, however, took advantage of his momentary distraction and with the force of a small missile, pushed hard against his chest and broke free.
"If you have to ask me that then I don't even know who you are anymore," she growled angrily, striding across the small yard, "I don't know you at all."
"Just answer the question," he called out steadily from behind her. His voice was stern, commanding, and Michaela checked her steps.
"I came because you're my friend Sully," she shot back, whipping around just in time to see the flicker of pain her words caused before he expertly wiped his expression clean again.
"Or atleast you used to be and stupid as it sounds, I thought that meant something," she barelled on, "but clearly I was wrong. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered."
Sully just nodded mutely and pulled open the screen door.
"Maybe you shouldn't have," he stated flatly, his voice as devoid of emotion as his expression.
Before Michaela could react he had disappeared inside, leaving her hugging herself shakily in the dark.