“I don’t know,” she said. “I suppose you should. But I don’t want to be in jail when the baby comes.”
He reached out and smoothed her hair back behind her ear. “I’m pretty sure you’re not going to jail. You didn’t do anything besides fail to investigate. It could’ve been a tree branch. Or an animal.”
“‘Pretty sure’ isn’t good enough,” she said quietly. “If something bad happened...”
What Cal didn’t admit was that he had been stalling. He took a cursory look at the public records, just enough to establish there had been no fatal accidents on or around the date she provided. When a victim dies days or even weeks after the incident, it’s upgraded to fatal. He was relieved enough to stop there, for the time being anyway. He didn’t want Sierra to need him while Maggie needed him. There was no easy way to balance that.
“Don’t worry. We’ll be okay. I have to say, Sierra, I was a little nervous about you coming here and now I’m glad you did. It’s been wonderful for us.”
“Wonderful for me, too,” she said.
*
Having at least two jobs, new friends, a dog and a boyfriend took a lot of time. Delightful time. She still made time for meetings here and there but she wasn’t seeing Moody for coffee quite as often. He was diligent in his role as a sponsor, acting like he wanted to keep the job.
“I think it’s time for a catch-up,” he said when he called her. “There’s an open meeting in Leadville with a good speaker—I’ve heard her before. Let’s have dinner in Leadville at five, then go to the seven o’clock meeting. Want to meet at the café where they have the heavenly hamburger? Bring your notebook.”
She was devotedly reading her big book, going to at least two meetings a week, when at one time while she was in rehab it was at least two meetings a day. She was writing in her journal and in her notebook, but there were times lately she just didn’t feel like it. There were times she wanted to forget that this was still a priority. Of course she didn’t dare, and even if she did dare, Moody would sternly remind her that her only chance was a green memory.
She went to the café early and, with a cup of coffee on the side, she opened up her notebook and did a little review. She wasn’t just a girl who partied too much. She got in trouble when she was drinking and had done some shameful things, things that for her recovery, she shouldn’t forget. With as many mishaps and misdeeds as she’d had, she was going to be on step eight for a long time.
Alex D.—I’m sorry about the car. Sorry I took it without permission just because I wanted a ride. Sorry about the fender, too. And your sunglasses, which I sold.
Joel W.—I told your wife you were screwing around on her. I was drunk, of course, but I was also malicious. She didn’t deserve you! Of course, I didn’t deserve you even more but in my twisted mind, I thought I did.
I sexted and sexted and sexted. I hate that I did that. I could never do that without being drunk. Not to mention all the drunk dialing...
I can’t wait to throw away this notebook.
“Love to see someone hard at work,” Moody said, sliding into the booth across from her. She loved his aging hippie look; his gray hair pulled into a ponytail, his bushy gray eyebrows were a little crazy. He was wearing his T-shirt with the peace symbol on it. “You got room for the rest of your transgressions or should I buy you a new notebook?”
“This should do it,” she said. “Luckily, I have many memory failures.”
“That does come in handy. Did you order dinner?”
“Not yet,” she said. “But I’m ready for a hamburger. A big greasy burger. I don’t eat stuff like that with Sully. We’re minding his heart. Let’s order.”
“You read my mind. And a chocolate shake?”
“Shouldn’t you be watching your cholesterol?”
“Don’t be taking my temperature here,” he said.
The waitress, having seen him join Sierra, was at their table at once.
“You want a review of my transgressions?” Sierra asked after they’d placed their order.
“I’m sure it’s fascinating,” Moody said. “But what I’d rather hear about is what you’ve been doing with yourself these days. Word has it you cut back on your hours at the diner. And the word is also out—you’re Connie’s girl now.”
“You told me to bring my notebook,” she said.
“I thought it would remind you—you have a notebook and it needs attention. So—what’s up?”
“My pregnant sister-in-law can’t help out at the Crossing as much—her ankles are swollen and her house is almost done,” she said. “I’m so happy to be doing that. Makes me feel better about that little cabin, which I love. I didn’t think I needed a place of my own, but I was wrong. I’ve been rootless for such a long time and I like having walls again. Walls I’m not sharing with anyone. It makes me feel grounded in a way. And I realized that when Cal said he needed me—it was pure joy. Sully calls me family, being Cal’s sister. My concept of family is a little screwed up.”
“How is it with your brother?” he asked.
“Very good. He’s very protective,” she said. “I kind of hung my addictions on him by telling him that everyone left me and I turned to booze. It appears he may have taken the bait.” Then she smiled.
“That’s a nice sister,” he said. “Do you plan on letting him off the hook or are you going to add him to the list of people you’ve wronged?”
“It would have to be both now, wouldn’t it?” she said. She had wronged Cal by blaming him for a problem that was entirely her own and yes, she fully intended to make sure he understood that even though it came as a result of her childhood, her disease belonged to her.
“That’s very mature,” Moody said.
She never knew when he was being funny, sarcastic or genuine. She frowned.
“Wanting a drink?”
She shook her head. “Not today,” she said. “I know I might tomorrow but I don’t today.”
“What I wonder is—do you feel isolated out there? In your new home? Because you haven’t called me lately.”
“Oh, Moody, I’m sorry. I should have been more honest with you. It’s true, Cal, Maggie and Sully need me, but what time is left I’m spending with Connie. Every day. Most nights. It’s been very nice. He’s such a dream man.”
“I like Connie,” he said. “Can’t say I know him well, but he seems okay.”
“He’s okay,” she assured him. “I haven’t given him a lot of specifics, but I have told him that I’m in recovery.” She bit her lower lip. “I kind of hate for him to know the whole story. I think he gets it, that I’m an alcoholic, but he’s not much of a drinker himself. He really has no idea...”
‘I don’t know how important he is to you,” Moody said. “But—”