“Fucking Phil!” Sheri said. “What the hell is he up to?”
“Maybe it’s just a mix-up. Cellphone reception over here seems to be pretty spotty.”
Sheri seemed about to retort, but stopped herself. She shielded her eyes and squinted against the sun. Her restless gaze flitted the length of the street before it lit upon Amanda’s motorcycle, where Kaylee was poking her nose eagerly through her mesh door. For the first time a smile broke Sheri’s tense features.
“What in the name of God is that?”
“My dog.”
“Oh, for the love of —” Sheri hopped off the porch, lithe as a cat, and strode over to release her. “Look at you!”
The dog bounded out to greet her as if she were a long-lost friend. “Dog in a trailer. This is a first even for you, Amanda Doucette,” she said, laughing in spite of herself as she straightened up. “Oh, come on in then, I’ll put the kettle on. Tea?” She paused on the steps. “Or something stronger?”
“Something stronger would be heaven!” Amanda’s whole body ached. She reached into her saddlebag. “I picked up some wine.”
Inside, the house was small and simply furnished in what looked like hand-me-downs, but the curtains and cushions were made of bright prints bought for pennies in Asian and African street markets. Late-afternoon sunshine spilled through the bay window, setting the reds and golds in the fabric aflame. Amanda followed Sheri into the kitchen and filled the dog’s water bowl while Sheri opened the wine.
“This is a treat,” Sheri said. “All I have in the fridge is half a bottle of blueberry wine. I don’t keep much in the house because Phil —” She broke off and turned quickly to get the glasses.
Amanda hid her surprise. Phil had never been much of a drinker, despite the many opportunities afforded by the foreign aid circuit. Back in the living room, Amanda sagged into a rocking chair and took a grateful sip of wine. In the silence, Sheri paced to the window and stared outside. For the thousandth time, Amanda suspected.
She approached the issue carefully. “What’s Phil doing, Sheri?”
Sheri swung around, tightening her jaw. “I thought he was going camping with you.”
“Well, he was. He wanted to show me the whales and icebergs. He was very proud of your island. His adopted home.”
Sheri blew out a small puff of air. Dismissive and impatient. “Where are you two supposed to be going?”
“That’s the thing. He was looking into it, checking out the most spectacular places and what campsites were open where I could take the dog. He was going to tell me where to meet him.”
Sheri’s eyes narrowed, and Amanda could almost see her searching her thoughts. “Whales and icebergs. Now there’d be plenty of them in Newfoundland. Could be anywhere, from the Avalon Peninsula near St. John’s to Gros Morne on the west. Even Twillingate, in Notre Dame Bay just up north there —” she pointed “— that would be the closest.”
“I think he wanted something wild. Not a place full of B&Bs and tourists.”
“Probably not the Avalon, then. But it’s a big, empty island most of the year. Lots of rocks and ocean to choose from.”
Amanda took another small sip of her wine, which was already going to her head after the long drive. Sheri, she noticed, had almost finished hers. “Did he drop any hints? Any place he really wanted to see?”
Instead of answering, Sheri turned away from the window. “You must be hungry after that ride. I’ve got some cookies in the cupboard.”
Amanda followed her back into the kitchen. “Didn’t he talk about the trip at all?”
Sheri’s back was rigid as she rummaged through the shelves. “No, he didn’t. That was between him and you. He knew I wasn’t thrilled. He just said it was something he had to do. Something you and he had to do.”
Amanda hid her surprise. “I’m sorry, I thought … he said it was your idea.”
“Did he, now?”
Amanda cast about for a way out of the hole she’d dug. “He was doing it for me, Sheri. To help me get past the awful time in Nigeria. He thought your island — his island — would give me a lift. That’s all. I would never —”
Sheri gave an odd, strangled grunt. “Since when have you needed help with that?”
“I’ve been kind of stuck back at home. I couldn’t just go back to my old life on the front lines, but I didn’t know what I wanted to do next.”
“And you figured a few whales and icebergs with my husband would do the trick?”
So there it was. Tossed on the floor between them like a sack of stinking garbage. The rebuke and bitterness. The unspoken jealousy. Amanda wanted to say Phil and I have been friends for a long time, since graduate school, and we’ve been through a lot together, but he chose you, remember? Without question, without doubt. But that wouldn’t be enough.
Sheri had piled almost the entire box of cookies onto a plate before Amanda reached out to stop her hand. “Sheri, Phil loves you. Always has. You were his rock during that terrifying time. But Nigeria wasn’t like other posts. You just don’t walk away from it. I needed a way to heal, and I know Phil needed that too.”
Sheri managed a brusque nod, stared at the plate of cookies and eventually heaved a sigh. Her words tumbled out, as if they had been dammed up for months. “Yes, damn it. I know that. I’ve tried to be patient this past year. Tried to keep our home stable and happy, for Tyler’s sake as well as Phil’s. But he shut me out with this fucking, monstrous wall. Everything’s hunky dory, he said. I just need a little time, a little space. Don’t nag me. Goddamn! I’m not a needy wife, you know that, Amanda. He said I didn’t understand, but I did. I haven’t lived my whole life on this sheltered little island. We met in Senegal working with AIDS orphans, for God’s sake!”
“Nigeria was different.”
“He knew that going in! He chose to go there, even when I told him not to. He chose it —”
“Aid workers were pulling out in droves. He knew they needed him.”
“And Tyler and I didn’t? And now we’re the ones paying the price!”
Not as much as the kidnapped school boys, Amanda thought. Anger was never far from the surface these days, and now she felt it bubbling through her, tugging at her thin, fraying reins of control. She tamped it down. “I know you are. So is Phil,” was all she said.
Sheri snatched up the plate and stalked back into the living room. “Why do you think I’ve tried so hard? I know he’s a good guy and if he’s got a fault, it’s that he cares too much. He can’t turn his back on suffering.” To Amanda’s surprise, tears welled in Sheri’s eyes. Sheri was seasoned and strong, and tears didn’t come easily.
Amanda softened. “So what happened, Sheri? What’s this about?”
The tears hovered on her lashes. For a long moment she said nothing. Took one breath. Two. “I turned my back,” she whispered.
Amanda said nothing. Waited.
“I didn’t mean to. I needed … a friend. At first it was just for Tyler. This friend. He was Tyler’s hockey coach and kind of took Tyler under his wing while Phil was away. Later we’d all go out for pizza after the game, and he fixed a few things around the house here. Shovelled the drive during that awful winter last year.” Sheri broke off. She picked up her wine with a trembling hand, brought the glass to her lips, and drained it. Once again, Amanda fought her own rising temper.
“Nothing happened. I mean, not then. When Phil came home, the guy backed off. But Tyler … Phil spent long hours out in the bush,