Gary ’s eyes drifted upward from Moira to Caitlyn’s face. “I think your mother’s smarter than you think.”
She didn’t know what she saw in his face then. MacEnnis’s words came back to her: “… your track record so far isn’t very good.” She hadn’t felt the impact of a person’s gaze since… How much of it is because he looks so normal, compared to the others on the island? Are you still that shallow, girl?
She said it anyway.
“You can stay with us. If you like.”
She expected him to balk and refuse. At the very least, she expected him to question what that meant even though she wasn’t sure herself.
He didn’t. He stared at Caitlyn for long seconds, then looked down again at Moira, smiling at her. “I’d like that,” he said to Moira rather than Caitlyn. “And we’ll work on that math.”
“… right, I understand, Arnie, but I’ve given the accountant permission to liquidate my 401k-use that to get through the next few months, at least, even though taxes are gonna chew up a lot of it… No, the plane’s a total loss. I had to ditch in the ocean… You need to hire another plane and pilot… I know, man. I know. But I called the embassy in Belfast, and they told me that there are indictments out for me for attempted murder, assault, illegal flight and dozen other things down to littering, and that if I leave this island, not only will the UK have my ass but the good ole USA will be filing immediate extradition papers… All right, man. I’ll keep trying… Right. Hartmann’s office gave me the name of a lawyer, some guy named Dr. Praetorius; he’s supposed to start working on that end… Give my love to Mom and tell her not to worry. I’m fine at the moment, but I miss everyone. Tell Serena the two of you will make it through this, and kiss little Keisha for me too, and let her know that her uncle loves her… Make sure you take care of Mom. Call her every day and check on her; you know how she is about taking her pills… Yeah, goodbye.”
Caitlyn heard the click of the receiver in its cradle, and when she glanced up, Gary was staring at her. “I’ll find a way to pay you back. I know all these calls have been expensive. Arnie doesn’t think the business is going to make it, and they found a blood clot in Mom’s leg…” Gary ran a hand over tight-curled black hair.
“What did Mayor Carrick say when you spoke with him?”
Gary nodded. “There’s nothing he can do either-he was the one who suggested calling the U.S. Embassy. I’ve tried to get hold of Senator Hartmann’s offices, too; no one will talk to me there; all they could suggest was some J-Town lawyer-Hartmann’s the one guy who might be able to get me out of this, and no one knows where the hell he is. No one else seems to be able to do anything. If I leave, I’ll be tossed in jail. That’s the bottom line.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Not as fucking sorry as I am,” he answered, then grimaced, looking in the direction of Moira’s room. “Sorry,” he apologized, pacing the length of the room and back.
“She’s asleep. You must be tired, too.”
He responded as if he hadn’t heard her. “I need to get back. Everything and everyone I know is back in New York.” He looked at her with stricken eyes. “I should never have done what I did, but I promised the man. I promised.”
“Promises are important.” She managed to say it without bitterness.
“Yeah. And this is one I wish I hadn’t kept.” He blinked. Walking over to the chair where she sat, he crouched down, touching her arm. His fingers radiated heat. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. You’ve taken huge chances with me, someone you don’t know at all-all of you here have. It’s just…”
“I know,” she said. “You want to go home.”
He laughed, bitterly. “You got that right.”
NOVEMBER, 1995
Gary sat with Moira at the desk near the front door. He huddled with her over her open textbook. Caitlyn watched the two of them, wondering.
He’d already become more a part of her life than she’d ever expected. He and Moira… her daughter had bonded immediately and unquestioningly to her ‘Burning Man,’ and he responded to her with a teasing seriousness that made Caitlyn sometimes feel clumsy in her own relations with Moira.
And yet… He kept his distance with Caitlyn, careful not to say or do anything that might be construed as an advance. At first, she’d found that comforting…
“Look,” he said to Moira, his baritone voice warm in the cool air of the room. “Remember when you introduced me to Codman Cody at the West Lighthouse? How many fingers does he have?”
Caitlyn could see Moira squeeze her eyes shut in concentration. “Six,” she said at last. “Four on his right hand, two on his left.”
“OK. And if he held his left hand over his right, that’d be two over four-like a fraction. What if he took away half the fingers on each hand? What would that look like? Think about Codman Cody’s hands…”
Again, the eyes closed, then opened. “That would be one on one hand and two on the other,” she said.
“Would he look silly then, with only three fingers?”
Moira giggled. “Aye, he would.” They both laughed, then Gary drew a two-fingered hand and a four-fingered hand on the paper in front of them. “So you can divide the number of fingers on both hands by two, right? Which means two over four can be reduced to what fraction? Look at the hands.”
“One over two!” Moira roared. “One half.”
Gary applauded softly. “Hey, you got it! What if he had six fingers on his right? Could you reduce two over six?”
A pause. Then: “One over three.” Moira giggled. “I understand. Thanks, Gary.”
“You’re welcome. Now… why don’t you get to bed? Your mom and I gotta talk…” He kissed her forehead and Moira flung her arms around his neck. She ran over to Caitlyn and did the same, then scurried off to her room. Caitlyn watched Gary straighten the desk and put Moira’s notebooks in her backpack.
“You’re good with her,” she said into the silence, and his deep brown eyes glanced back at her..
“She’s a great kid. I like her a lot.” His gaze turned away as he tucked Moira’s math book in and closed the flap. His dark, long fingers tapped the blue cloth. He pushed back the chair. “I’m going for a walk. Wanna come?”
She hesitated. “I don’t know… Moira…”
“Just tell her we’re going. She’ll be fine.”
“All right,” she said finally. “Let me get my shawl…”
The night was cool but dry, a strong, high wind draping shreds of cloud over a half-moon and ripping them away again, though only a faint breeze stirred the dry leaves of the hawthorn in the yard. She envied the ease with which Gary moved in the darkness, contrasting with her own clumsy, stiff-legged gait. He slowed his own pace to hers, walking alongside her down the narrow asphalt road winding westward. He was careful not to touch her, always keeping a distance between them. They said nothing, listening to the night birds, the soughing of the wind, and the faint sound of the water. They passed Abigail Scanlon’s cottage, a quarter mile down the road-‘Wide Abby,’ they called her. The old woman was out on her porch: Caitlyn could see the outline of the misshapen body, like someone laying on their side, the legs at either end of the stretched frame, the head a bump in the middle of a log, the hand waving at either end, unable to reach each other across the huge girth between them. Caitlyn remembered how they’d had to alter her cottage, the door hinged sideways, all the furniture low and wide. Caitlyn waved to her. “A beautiful night, ’tis it not, Abby?” she called out. There was no answer, only a faint wave from one of the hands.
They walked on. She could feel Gary glancing from her to Abigail. “Moira goes to ‘school’ every day, but she’s the only one there,” he said finally. “She seems to know everyone on the island, and half the time she’s over at someone’s house. But y’know, in two months I’ve never seen anyone at all ever come to your house. I notice that you don’t go to the grocery yourself, that the person who delivers them leaves the box on the stoop and never knocks or rings the bell to say hello. I notice that your neighbors don’t say much to you.” He stopped, and she knew he was waiting for an answer. When she remained silent, walking on, he continued. “Is it me? Is it because I’m there?”