“He got sick. Well, actually, he never got sick, which was the problem. Turns out he was carrying the polio that wiped out our people. Lynn said I couldn’t see him anymore, and back home he was…”
“Exiled?”
“He was turned out, yeah,” Lucy said softly, remembering the lost look in Carter’s eyes as he left her underneath the trees.
“That’s a hard life, when it’s not voluntary,” Fletcher said.
“He didn’t want to go,” Lucy said, lost in her own story. “But he knew it was best for everyone, best for me. I’ve seen Lynn do all kinds of brave things my whole life, but I’ve never seen anything like Carter walking out into nothing all by himself.”
“Sounds like he was a good fella.”
“Is a good fella,” Lucy insisted. “For all anyone knows, he’s still alive. I’m sticking to that, the same as you’re sticking to Rose.”
“Even though he’s back east and you’re headed west as far as the land can take you?”
“This place, Sand City, does it have doctors?”
“Some, as I recall.” Fletcher looked into the fire before continuing. “I don’t know if they were doctors in the modern sense of the word though, and I don’t want to mislead you.”
“Mislead me?”
“Meaning that I don’t want you to have Sand City set up in your head as a utopia—a place where everything is perfect,” he added before Lucy could interrupt with the question. “The folks there are kind, and life is easier, definitely. But there’s still illness and accidents, and different kinds of work to be done every day.”
“Life is work.” Lucy shrugged.
“And here I thought you had the optimism of youth.” Fletcher laughed softly to himself, then held up his hand to reassure her that he wasn’t mocking her. “No offense meant.”
“My grandma Vera is a doctor—a real one,” Lucy said. “But she didn’t know if Carter would carry the polio forever or if it kinda faded out.”
“So you’re hoping you can find someone who does know? What if you walk toward the sunset thinking you’ll find all your answers in Sand City, and they’re not there? Or shall we consider the opposite? What if someone tells you what you want to hear—that this boy is no longer infectious—yet you’re separated by all the miles you just crossed to hear those words?”
Lucy felt the pit of hopelessness opening in her stomach at such direct questions. To speak her half-made plans out loud made them sound feeble and childish, the product of a lovesick mind that had no room for logic. “If he can be rid of it, I’m going to find him. I won’t leave him for dead.”
“And how do you imagine that scenario playing out with Lynn?”
“Not well,” she admitted.
“I’d say not,” Fletcher agreed. “She crosses the country on foot to keep you safe and you do an about-face and head back?”
“You do it,” Lucy said, letting the edge in her voice cut through the air even though Lynn was asleep. “You wander around with no idea where to go without a second thought.”
“And beholden to none,” Fletcher added, weighting each word. “I can do it because there is no one who cares for me. Those who reap the blessings of freedom must undergo the fatigue of supporting it.”
Lucy could feel her jaw tightening into the stubborn set Carter had always teased her about, the tiniest flare of irritation firing along with it. “If I say I’ll do it, then I’ll do it.”
“No reason to get heated, though it’s refreshing to have a philosophical conversation,” he said.
Lucy let all her breath out in a rush. “Sorry. I didn’t know I had that in me.”
“I imagine there’s a lot of things you don’t know you have in you, little Lucy.”
Lucy shook her head. “You don’t know the half of it, Fletcher. My mom, my real mom, she killed herself rather than have to face her fears. That’s who I am. It’s in my blood.”
“Maybe. But Lynn’s been teaching you her ways, and I think one or two of them might’ve taken. It’s an old argument you’d know nothing about, but whether it’s the nature of your mother that wins out in the end, or the lessons of the one who’s nurtured you, the choices are your own.”
“Yeah,” Lucy said. “That I know.”
“The other side of the coin, my small friend, isn’t all that shiny either.”
“What’re you saying?”
“I’m saying Sand City has things to offer you haven’t even thought of yet, things you might not want to forsake in exchange for a long, hard road back to where you came from.”
“I grew up in a city,” Lucy said. “I remember electricity and bathrooms. It’s not like it’ll be all that much of a shock to me.”
“And people?” Fletcher said quietly. “You’ll be welcome in Sand City. A whole group of new people, kind ones, people who’ll take to you—and you to them. It’s apparent that you form attachments quickly. Will you walk out on a whole city of new friends for the sake of one old one?”
“Is it right for me to leave Carter alone forever because my grandma didn’t know the answer to a question? Is it right that he should be hated and feared if there’s really nothing wrong with him, and I’m too comfortable to come back?” Lucy’s voice was rising; Lynn twitched in her sleep, and Fletcher motioned to her to shush.
He patted her shoulder awkwardly. “Don’t get all discombobulated, now. I’m just planting some thoughts in your head for you to ruminate on while we travel. Get some sleep. Tomorrow we’re into the work of the journey.”
“’Kay,” she said absently, but didn’t lie down. Long after Fletcher had drifted off, Lucy stared into the mesmerizing comfort of the flames.
Twenty-One
“I was not expecting that,” Lynn said as she stared down the rock slide as if willpower could move it.
“What were you expecting? Smooth sailing?” Fletcher asked, as he slid off Terra Cotta’s saddle.
“I would’ve been content with smooth walking,” Lucy muttered, joining Fletcher on the road.
The pile of rocks, dirt, and twisted roots had been there awhile; Lucy could see fresh spikes of green growth emerging from the broken trees that had re-rooted themselves in the rubble heap. What she couldn’t see was the other side of the road. The heap was piled well over their heads, and a few rainfalls had settled the dirt solidly.
Lynn put one hand on her hip and surveyed the earthen wall. “Well, shit,” she said. “Now what?”
“Not a lot of options, ladies. We dig, or we go back.”
“Back how far?” Lucy asked.
Fletcher pushed his hat up off his forehead and scratched at his blond curls while he thought. “Last turnoff I remember would lead us too close to a little town I’m not entirely in favor of. One before that might take us where we need to go to get back on the highway, but I’ve not traveled it myself and don’t know who we might meet on the way.”
“Then we dig,” Lynn said.
“With what?” Lucy asked.
“You got hands?”
Lucy was doubtful their hands would do much damage, but going against Lynn when she used that tone of voice wasn’t in her best interest. Fletcher didn’t complain, digging in with a smart, “Yes, ma’am.”
It wasn’t long before a million tiny cuts from the brittle shale had sliced open Lucy’s hands, but never deep enough to draw blood. Dirt filled them quickly, bringing with it a persistent itch she didn’t start scratching for fear of never stopping. Her fingernails bent backward, most of them snapping clean off as she dug, leaving the soft white skin underneath unprotected against more cuts and more dirt.