“Gonna offer me some of that coffee?”
Mac stood a little straighter, wondering where his manners had gone off to. “Yes, sir.” He went to the counter and took down two mugs. “Appreciate you doing this.”
Silas grunted as he looked around the two-room cabin. “Not much for decorating.”
“Don’t need much. Bed, shitter, table. Hammock is where I spend most of my time.”
“What about winter?” Silas moved farther into the space. “You ain’t sharing that cot with anything soft and sweet.”
Mac glanced over his shoulder to see the man eyeing his cot through the cracked door. Nope, sure wasn’t. The soft and sweet he decided he wanted probably prayed every night for him to go to hell. Not answering, Mac asked, “Milk? Sugar?”
“Nope and nope.”
Mac turned and held out a cup. “Here you go.”
Silas approached him and took the cup, staring up at him. “Quite a story on your back.”
“Yep.”
“Give you any problems?”
“Only every minute. Mental more than physical at this point.” There was no point in lying to a fellow service member.
Silas made another grunting sound, still giving Mac a once-over as he sipped his coffee, clearly debating. What, Mac couldn’t guess. How mental?
Mac asked, “Why Tom?”
Silas lowered his mug, indicating Mac’s mid-section. “Because of that Johnson of yours. Says you get around like a tomcat.”
Mac raised a brow. He couldn’t find fault with Marge’s analogy. “I got off on the wrong foot with her and never recovered.”
“She finally told me about that. I wondered what had her so twisted up about you. And then to catch you sniffing around Sid, it set her on edge.” He narrowed his eyes. “You know how I felt about that.”
Mac looked out his front window toward the lake. “How everyone felt.”
“We have cause?”
Mac answered evenly, “Looks like.”
Silas studied him some more. “You sorry?”
The air left Mac’s lungs as though he’d been punched. Looking at the old man like he was crazy, Mac answered, “Fuck. Yes, I’m sorry. Doesn’t mean a damn thing, though, does it? Don’t know what I did to her, but I know what happened. I see the result.”
Silas finished off his coffee while Mac tried not to glower at him. Handing back the empty cup, he said, “That you about pissed yourself when I asked is good enough for me.”
Mac swallowed hard before reminding him, “Thought Marge believing what Cassidy said was enough.”
“Two different things,” Silas said, waving his hand dismissively.
Mac tried not to look at Silas as though the man was losing his mind.
“Let’s get you on that boat, turn you into a real man—asailorman.“ Silas chuckled at his own words, turning to head toward the door.
Mac tried not to smile, thankful neither one of them was bald or the Popeye references would have been flying. “Yes, sir.” He followed Silas out the door.
As they walked toward the dock, Mac wanted to ask about yesterday. About Cassidy. He was desperate for any news about her, which was a weird thing considering the woman lived next door to him. But she’d been next door to him when he’d first met her and he’d searched the town for her in vain, never suspecting.
He’d considered checking on her more than once since her return from the hospital. He’d been up: nightmares or plain insomnia. And he’d started over a couple of times. But he always stopped himself.