I felt everything. The guilt of keeping a big secret. The heartbreak of knowing the man she once loved no longer existed and had walked out on her. The yearning to run into his arms and stay there because it had once felt so good. The anger and desire to punch him in his handsome face. Feeling like it was impossible to explain all that, she shrugged. “I feel confused. I feel like I owe him the truth. I feel like Mason is owed a father. I feel like I wish things were different. That Sullivan was different. I wish he would have answered the damn phone when I called, instead of the woman. I wish he would have called back.”
Amelia frowned. “That’s a lot of wishes.”
“It is,” Clara agreed then took another long sip, adding moisture to her dry throat. She’d rarely talked about Sullivan to her sisters, particularly about Sullivan being Mason’s father. She’d swallowed and forged on, doing what had to be done. “But as much as I wish everything were different, I can’t undo the past.”
“You’re right, you can’t,” Maisie said.
And the past wasn’t pretty. When he was six years old, Sullivan’s mother received her breast cancer diagnosis. She went through repeated treatments for ten years. She fought so hard, but ultimately, the cancer took her. In the wake of losing his wife, Sullivan’s father became a drunk, and soon after, an angry drunk. He’d turned abusive and took his rage out on Sullivan.
“Well,” Amelia said with a shrug. “If you ask me, you shouldn’t have to undo the past. Sullivan left and completely ignored his life here. You were left to pick up the pieces after. You don’t owe him shit as far as I’m concerned.”
This all seemed like a nightmare she couldn’t wake up from. “I never thought he’d come back.”
Maisie slid her finger against the rim of her margarita glass, gathering up the salt. “You’re not alone. Even Hayes said he was shocked to find out Sullivan was back in town.”
“Which begs the question, why is he here?” Clara asked.
“Who cares?” Amelia shot back. “I think Sullivan has done enough damage already. Let’s just hope he realizes no one wants him here and then he’ll quickly go back to where he came from.”
Clara nodded.
Maisie licked the salt off her finger and offered, “I say just ride out his time here. Keep Mason close and out of his sight. You need to do what’s right for Mason, and until you know Sullivan is mentally stable, as far as I’m concerned, it’s your right as his mother to protect him.”
Clara didn’t even want to voice the thought, but couldn’t stop herself. “But what if he is mentally stable? What do I do then? Tell him he has a kid I never told him about? Where would we even go from there? What would that look like for Mason?” Her head hurt. Her heart too. Sullivan was never supposed to come home. He didn’t even come home for his father’s funeral after he passed away a few months back. This wasn’t the plan. This had never been the plan. She rubbed her throbbing temples. “I can’t process how to deal with all this. Sullivan has a history
of loving and leaving in a very cruel way. I won’t let him do that to Mason. I can’t.”
Silence settled in, until Maisie asked, “So what are you going to do, then?”
“Protect Mason, no matter what.”
Of course, her sisters didn’t miss that she hadn’t totally said her piece yet. “And?” they asked in unison.
“And Maisie’s right,” Clara continued, spinning her margarita glass between her fingers. “I need to see exactly the type of man Sullivan Keene is now. If he’s worthy, if it’s in Mason’s best interest, then I’ll tell him the truth and face the fallout.”
Amelia looked skeptical. “You’re really going to be able to do that?”
“Yes,” Clara said with total certainty. “I have no other choice. If he’d stayed in Boston and forgot all about us and River Rock, I wouldn’t tell him. Not ever. But for some unknown reason, he’s back. He’s spending his suspension here. I think it’s important to find out why. Not only for Sullivan, but for Mason too.”
Heavy silence descended around the kitchen table full of half-empty margarita glasses.
“I really hate to be the one to point this out,” Maisie said, hesitantly, “but you did love him once. What if this gets, I don’t know…messy?”
“It won’t get messy,” Clara promised, mostly to herself. “It can’t, not with Mason in the center of it all. Besides, things are different now.”
“Why?” Amelia asked.
“Because this guy isn’t my Sullivan. He’s not the guy I loved. And this guy he is now, the one splashed all over the tabloids and fighting in bars, is not a man I could ever love.”
Just after seven o’clock in the evening, Sullivan finished tying up the shoelaces of his boots before leaving his apartment. It was built above a barn, and the floors creaked beneath his weight. He’d rented for the month from old man Bart, an eighty-year-old local. Luckily for Sullivan, Bart, who rented his apartment to help pay his bills, was between tenants. The apartment was a far cry from Sullivan’s upscale and modern condominium in Boston, but the rustic nature reminded him of when he used to work on a cattle ranch in his youth, during the summers.
A double bed rested against the far wall with a red-and-black quilt on top of dark gray sheets, all things Sullivan had bought upon arrival. A small galley kitchen with a tiny stove occupied the space beside a sink and a fridge. A mix of oak and dust lingered in the air, but somehow, the smell suited the place. Despite all the pleasing decorations, Sullivan felt restless, so he grabbed his keys off the small table next to the door then headed outside, leaving it unlocked behind him. He had nothing worth stealing other than his clothes. When he trotted down the rickety wooden steps, they groaned beneath him. It came as no surprise to see his landlord sitting on his porch in his old rocking chair, smoking a cigarette. “How are you today, Bart?” Sullivan called.
“Just fine. The sun will set tonight and rise tomorrow,” the old man said with a smile that was missing a couple of teeth.
Bart’s life was simple, and that suited him. If Sullivan was being honest, he envied that about him. If all Sullivan had to worry about was the sun rising and setting, life would be easy. “Enjoy the rest of your night.”
Bart waved him off and took another sip from his coffee cup before puffing on his cigarette.