Sully had a great big map of the CDT, Colorado Trail and other trails on the bulletin board in the front of the store; it was surrounded by pictures either left or sent back to him. He’d put out a journal book where hikers could leave news or messages. The journals, when filled, were kept by Sully, and had become very well-known. People could spend hours reading through them.
Sully’s was an escape, a refuge, a gathering place or recreational outpost. Maggie and Andrew liked to come for the occasional weekend to ski—the cross-country trails were safe and well marked. Occupancy was lower during the winter months so they’d take a cabin, and Sully would never comment on the fact that they were sharing not just a room but a bed.
Before the pregnancy and miscarriage, their routine had been rejuvenating—they’d knock themselves out for a week or even a few weeks in their separate cities, then get together for a weekend or few days, eat wonderful food, screw their brains out, get a little exercise in the outdoors, have long and deep conversations, meet up with friends, then go back to their separate worlds. Andrew was shy of marriage, having failed at one and being left a single father. Maggie, too, had had a brief, unsuccessful marriage, but she wasn’t afraid of trying again and had always thought Andrew would eventually get over it. She accepted the fact that she might not have children, coupled with a man who, right up front, declared he didn’t want more.
“But then there was one on the way and does he step up?” she muttered to herself as she walked into the store through the back door. “He complains that I’m too sad for him to deal with. The bastard.”
“Who’s the bastard, darling?” Enid asked from the kitchen. She stuck her head out just as Maggie was climbing onto a stool at the counter, and smiled. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been a while.”
“I know, I’m sorry about that. It’s been harrowing in Denver. I’m sure Dad told you about all that mess with my practice.”
“He did. Those awful doctors, tricking people into thinking they needed surgery on their backs and everything! Is one of them the bastard?”
“Without a doubt,” she answered, though they hadn’t been on her mind at all.
“And that lawsuit against you,” Enid reminded her, tsking.
“That’ll probably go away,” Maggie said hopefully, though there was absolutely no indication it would. At least it was civil. The DA had found no cause to indict her. But really, how much is one girl supposed to take? The event leading to the lawsuit was one of the most horrific nights she’d ever been through in the ER—five teenage boys in a catastrophic car wreck, all critical. She’d spent a lot of time in the stairwell after that one. “I’m not worried,” she lied. Then she had to concentrate to keep from shuddering.
“Good for you. I have soup. I made some for your dad and Frank. Mushroom. With cheese toast. There’s plenty if you’re interested.”
“Yes, please,” she said.
“I’ll get it.” Enid went around the corner to dish it up.
The store didn’t have a big kitchen, just a little turning around room. It was in the southwest corner of the store; there was a bar and four stools right beside the cash register. On the northwest corner there was a small bar where they served adult beverages, and again, a bar and four stools. No one had ever wanted to attempt a restaurant but it was a good idea to provide food and drink—campers and hikers tended to run out of supplies. Sully sold beer, wine, soft drinks and bottled water in the cooler section of the store, but he didn’t sell bottled liquor. For that matter, he wasn’t a grocery store but a general store. Along with foodstuffs there were T-shirts, socks and a few other recreational supplies—rope, clamps, batteries, hats, sunscreen, first-aid supplies. For the mother lode you had to go to Timberlake, Leadville or maybe Colorado Springs.
Sully’s was an escape, a refuge, a gathering place or recreational outpost. Maggie and Andrew liked to come for the occasional weekend to ski—the cross-country trails were safe and well marked. Occupancy was lower during the winter months so they’d take a cabin, and Sully would never comment on the fact that they were sharing not just a room but a bed.
Before the pregnancy and miscarriage, their routine had been rejuvenating—they’d knock themselves out for a week or even a few weeks in their separate cities, then get together for a weekend or few days, eat wonderful food, screw their brains out, get a little exercise in the outdoors, have long and deep conversations, meet up with friends, then go back to their separate worlds. Andrew was shy of marriage, having failed at one and being left a single father. Maggie, too, had had a brief, unsuccessful marriage, but she wasn’t afraid of trying again and had always thought Andrew would eventually get over it. She accepted the fact that she might not have children, coupled with a man who, right up front, declared he didn’t want more.
“But then there was one on the way and does he step up?” she muttered to herself as she walked into the store through the back door. “He complains that I’m too sad for him to deal with. The bastard.”
“Who’s the bastard, darling?” Enid asked from the kitchen. She stuck her head out just as Maggie was climbing onto a stool at the counter, and smiled. “It’s so good to see you. It’s been a while.”
“I know, I’m sorry about that. It’s been harrowing in Denver. I’m sure Dad told you about all that mess with my practice.”
“He did. Those awful doctors, tricking people into thinking they needed surgery on their backs and everything! Is one of them the bastard?”
“Without a doubt,” she answered, though they hadn’t been on her mind at all.
“And that lawsuit against you,” Enid reminded her, tsking.
“That’ll probably go away,” Maggie said hopefully, though there was absolutely no indication it would. At least it was civil. The DA had found no cause to indict her. But really, how much is one girl supposed to take? The event leading to the lawsuit was one of the most horrific nights she’d ever been through in the ER—five teenage boys in a catastrophic car wreck, all critical. She’d spent a lot of time in the stairwell after that one. “I’m not worried,” she lied. Then she had to concentrate to keep from shuddering.
“Good for you. I have soup. I made some for your dad and Frank. Mushroom. With cheese toast. There’s plenty if you’re interested.”
“Yes, please,” she said.
“I’ll get it.” Enid went around the corner to dish it up.
The store didn’t have a big kitchen, just a little turning around room. It was in the southwest corner of the store; there was a bar and four stools right beside the cash register. On the northwest corner there was a small bar where they served adult beverages, and again, a bar and four stools. No one had ever wanted to attempt a restaurant but it was a good idea to provide food and drink—campers and hikers tended to run out of supplies. Sully sold beer, wine, soft drinks and bottled water in the cooler section of the store, but he didn’t sell bottled liquor. For that matter, he wasn’t a grocery store but a general store. Along with foodstuffs there were T-shirts, socks and a few other recreational supplies—rope, clamps, batteries, hats, sunscreen, first-aid supplies. For the mother lode you had to go to Timberlake, Leadville or maybe Colorado Springs.
