Chapter Twenty-Seven
AFTER DINNER, brADLEY takes us out to the veranda, where a few visitors from his mother’s party have spilled over.
Sid and I wander the crowd, making introductions and small talk.
The whole evening is exhausting, but even if he complains about Bradley Patterson, coming was the right choice for Sid’s campaign.
He secures an invitation to a future town hall meeting and has a long conversation with the Mayor of Galiano about the lumber trade.
All the while, I smile and clutch his arm, ever the adoring wife.
Best of all, whatever threat Bradley posed seems to have been neutralized. The more he drinks, the more freely he talks, but at least he’s a cheerful drunk. Better yet, he’s one who is on our side.
“The more I think about it,” he says loudly, forcing all the guests to be his personal audience, “the more I think, I say yes! We do need immigrants. We’re building a new nation, here! It’s like when they built the railway. You need people to build a railway.”
My grasp of Canadian history isn’t the most thorough, but even I know the labour practices that built the transcontinental rail aren’t what anyone wants to be replicating in the modern age. But at least he’s seeing some value in Sid’s own positions.
“You ever seen the railway, Sid? Is it still there?”
“You mean the CPR? Yeah. It’s still there.
We…” Sid looks awkwardly around at the others, who have leaned in.
It’s not like they don’t know who he is or where he came from.
He’s public about it in his campaign. But it’s hard to guess how stories about TNS will be received.
Still, Bradley is asking directly, and this is his party. “We used to run marching drills on it.”
Bradley lights up and soon has dozens more questions about Sid’s life.
Not so much the sordid details of being a child soldier, but where he went.
Bradley has vacationed on the San Juans, but the one thing money can’t buy in today’s world is the safety to leave these islands.
He’s rapt as Sid describes places as far away as the Okanagan.
I could participate if I wanted, since I’ve been across the entirety of Vancouver Island, but the thought makes me sad in a way I can’t afford to unpack right now.
Bradley Patterson’s world might be filled with sights and tastes I’ve never experienced, but this place is undeniably smaller than what I used to have.
Sid seems to have the conversation well in-hand, so I wander away once I’ve finished my drink.
The veranda wraps all the way around the house, until it opens over a sheer cliff.
It’s a steep drop to the ocean below, water dark as the night and sighing like a sleeping giant.
I’ve only been alone a few minutes when soft footsteps approach.
I turn, expecting April, but Amy Sullivan draws up to my side.
“Mind if I join you?”
“Oh…” I don’t know if I should be wary or not, but it would be rude to refuse. “Sure.”
“Thanks. Even I need a break from all that, sometimes.” She nods toward the partygoers we left behind. “You’re doing amazingly, by the way. I don’t know how you manage it.”
“You don’t think I’m smart enough to talk to those people?” I ask, failing to keep my tongue in check.
Amy doesn’t get angry or defensive. She leans against the cedar railing and breathes in the ocean. “You were living in the woods two months ago. Sid threw you to the wolves here, but you’re killing it. I’m jealous. It took me thirty years to figure out how to talk to these people.”
“You don’t think of yourself as one of them?”
“Maybe I am. I don’t know. Tom—my uncle, I mean—he doesn’t like the Patterson crowd much. Finds this all… excessive.”
“Please, do not make me agree with your uncle on something. Shit! I mean…”
Amy only laughs. Sid did tell me she would understand if I said I disliked Tom. “So he has been giving you the gears. I’m sorry.”
“Not like it’s your fault.”
“He means well, but he’s like a lot of old-timers. Shell-shocked. Convinced the world is going to end all over again if he doesn’t do something to stop it. I keep telling him to get a therapist, but you try having that conversation with a sixty-two-year-old man.”
“Hmmm.”
“You shouldn’t worry, though. From what I’ve seen, you and April are doing fine. And Tom will see that. He always does, eventually.”
“Thank you.” I’m sure Amy is being sincere, but she doesn’t know certain things about me that Tom does.
To my annoyance, I have a flash of empathy for him.
I showed up on his island and shot his friend.
No wonder he wanted to string me up by the heels.
Can I really pretend I wouldn’t have done the same in his position?
“Can I ask you something, Amy?”
“Go right ahead.”
“Sid seemed surprised Bradley followed through on his dinner invitation. Did you have a hand in that?” I ask both because I’m curious and because I don’t want to talk about Tom.
Amy shrugs. “Maybe. I might have reminded Bradley that Sid is good for his image.”
“Really? How?”
“Because everyone thinks the Pattersons are snobs.”
“Because they are.”
“Of course! But that’s terrible for politics. Bradley wants people to think he’s approachable. I told him that if he attacked Sid, it might come out that his younger sister was bullying a poor immigrant girl at high school—”
“Holy shit, you said that to him?”
“I don’t believe in mincing words behind closed doors.” She throws me a wink.
“Well… thank you. I mean it.” Amy might have done it just to protect her own political prospects, but the result is the same. Honestly, she’s done more to help me than her uncle has, and that’s his job.
“Speaking of not mincing words… back at the guild tour, your sister was really interested in the medical research. I talked to Maria, and she says April carries needles at school. She has diabetes, doesn’t she?”
Sid has told me Amy is smart and resourceful, but seeing it in action is a little terrifying. Beneath the frothy, bubbly exterior is hard, weathered stone.
“So?”
Amy shakes her head. “That’s why you came, isn’t it? To get her healthcare? Is it why you married Sid, too?”
“I love him,” I say without hesitation. “That’s why I married him.”
Amy nods. “Two things can be true at the same time.”
“What?” I expected an attack of some kind, but this was not it. Despite myself, I’m completely flustered. “No. I don’t—”
“Kayla, you don’t have to justify anything to me. I don’t care what you guys do. Well, I do care, but I mean…” She taps a hand on the railing. “I care about Sid. He’s a good man. If he wasn’t so damn broody, I probably wouldn’t have dumped him.”
“Broody? I wouldn’t really call him—”
“See? You’re already more patient with him than I was,” she says with a laugh. “Just promise you won’t hurt him, okay?”
“My relationship with Sid isn’t your business.”
“I guess that’s fair.” She steps away from the railing. “I won’t tell Bradley about April. I think he’s on our side but, well… some things are better left secret.”
“Am I supposed to thank you for that?”
“No.” She sighs. “I know you don’t trust me. But so long as you’re good to him, I’m on your side, okay? Whether you like me or not. Just don’t hurt Sid.”
With that, she walks back toward the lights of the party. I stare after her retreating form, my breath growing more ragged as the full force of the conversation settles in. She knows. Those damn Sullivans. Our secret is in their hands and there’s nothing I can do about it.
I grab hold of the railing, suddenly weak at the knees as my brain scrambles to find a solution.
What’s she expecting to get from us by keeping our secret?
Is she going to ask for a favour? Make Sid do what she wants, once they’re in office?
Ironically, the one thing she did ask of me is the only one I’m certain isn’t her true motive.
Why would she worry about me hurting Sid?
I can’t hurt him. He doesn’t love me, and she knows that now.
Sid’s heavy tread jerks me out of my thoughts. I look up to see his wide shoulders blocking out the noise and glow of Bradley Patterson’s world. I let go of the railing and collapse into his arms, praying this will ground me and stop the mounting panic attack that might otherwise take over.
“Hey. You okay?” he asks.
“No.”
“Shit. What happened? Amy said you needed me, but—”
“Amy?!” I cry her name out, then regret it. I don’t want to draw anyone else from the party while I’m shaking like this. Quieter, I ask, “Amy sent you?”
“Yeah.”
“Sid, she knows. She figured out everything about April and now she knows.”
Sid’s body goes rigid against mine. It’s all too much to bear, so I bury my face into him, grateful for the chorus of ocean waves that help to drown out my stuttering lungs. As I choke back sobs, his grip tightens around me.
“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Did she say she would tell anyone?”
“No. She said she wouldn’t.”
“Okay. Then we’re okay.”
“No! We are not okay. None of this is okay.” I look up at him, angry enough to regain control of my voice. “You expect me to trust her because you do?”
“Well…”
“How?” I demand. “How am I supposed to trust her?”
“Amy’s been helping us so far. She gave April that tour. She’s helped smooth things over with Bradley—”
“But what if she betrays you? What if someone tells you you’re safe and then one day—”
“I don’t know! How does anyone trust anyone? At some point, you decide to believe them,” says Sid. “Because as scary as it is, it’s worse being alone.”
Is it? I’m drowning in company these days, but I’ve never felt more anxious. I would be crashing out if I didn’t have Sid to hang onto. My arms slide from his waist to his neck, drawing him downwards, so that his spine curls around my body, enveloping me.
“You told me once that you trust me.” Sid’s voice is right by my ear. “If you can’t believe her, then maybe you could believe me? I wouldn’t put us into this situation if I didn’t think it would be okay.”
He reaches up to cradle my face. As one of his rough, calloused thumbs wipes a stray tear off my cheek, I gasp, and my nose fills with the scent of cedar trees and ocean waves and him.
His breath is warm against my chin as he waits for my response.
But words fail me. I answer him the only way that makes sense anymore.
I’ve never kissed him like this before. My mouth is eager and intentional.
As his lips part, I’m hit by the taste of red wine and finally appreciate Bradley’s insistence on opening a good bottle.
My arms tighten around him, forbidding any escape.
Not that he tries. His thumb presses into my spine, steering me like he did when we danced at our wedding so that I fit more snuggly in his arms.
I want nothing more than to dissolve into him.
Breaking apart long enough to breathe is a chore; every second I spend separated from that glorious mouth is a total waste.
I’ve never needed someone like I need him.
The feeling roaring up inside of me is so much more urgent than anything I experienced in my youth.
He pulls away, and I whimper. “Don’t stop.”
“Do you trust me?”
“Yes.”
“Do you want me?”
“Yes.”
“Good.”
And then his mouth is on me again, tracing my collarbone. My hands ball up fistfuls of his hair and I groan out his name.
So this is what it’s like to live through an earthquake. This is what it’s like to have your whole world break apart and then be caught in the aftermath of tsunami waves, each more powerful than the next.
My hands shift again, caressing the length of his body, coming to rest at his waist. Without thinking, I hook my thumb around a button in his shirt.
His stomach twitches as my hand finds its way to bare skin and suddenly, he goes still.
He pulls away from me. I’m about to demand why, but then I hear the distant guffaws of the party.
It’s like surfacing above water as my ears clear and I become aware of the rest of the world.
My eyes dart over my shoulder, but we’re still alone, obscured by a curtain of dark.
We haven’t embarrassed ourselves in front of anyone.
Maybe it would be better if we had. Everyone at the party would be gossiping about how Sid Charles can’t keep his hands off his new wife.
No one would think this was a sham marriage.
The straps of my dress have fallen off my shoulders and my hand is splayed across his stomach without a single person to bear witness.
The only reason he stopped, I realize, is that we’re not alone enough.
If this had happened at the apartment, I know where it would go next. I should be in his bed right now.
I let go of him. He’s quick to tuck his shirt back into his pants, while I hastily readjust my dress.
“Yeah, sorry. That was… here.” He touches my face, cleaning up a smear of beetroot lipstick.
“Thanks. Let me get you.” My finger runs across the lips I just had against mine. Touching him there again, it takes all my strength to keep my head above water. Sid Charles is an ocean waiting to suck me under.
What did I just do? And why the hell didn’t he stop me?
Sid’s eyes are wide, transfixed. “Kayla… I didn’t mean for that to happen. But—”
“We’ll talk about it at home.”
“Sure.”
We don’t hold hands as we walk back to the party.
When the night is over and we’re on the bus, I make sure April is sitting between us.
Once we’re home, I head straight to bed, ignoring Sid’s attempts to get my attention.
It’s all I can do to make myself feel in control.
Otherwise, I’m going to start screaming.
It turns out, Amy was right. I can hurt Sid. But I can also hurt myself.
Two things can be true at the same time.