Chapter Fifteen

They were both quiet as they stepped off the curb and across the street towards the farmer’s market on Alvarado Street. As promised, it was in full swing and Lucy saw booths and tents set up as far as her eye could see – more than a few blocks, at least.

“Where do we start, boss?” she asked lightly, glancing over at the man walking beside her.

Sullivan swallowed thickly, gathering his thoughts. Be your brother, he thought dimly, just be Spencer. “What sounds good? You know the basic meal plan, right? Now you have to pick up what you like so you will probably eat it instead of throwing it away because you are supposed to like it but don’t.”

“Hm, depends. Can some of this stuff be deep fried?” Lucy asked, her tone serious. Sullivan swung her a searching look, and she grinned. “Kidding, kidding. Ooh… sweet corn. Is corn good?” she asked, walking towards a booth filled with unshucked ears of corn.

“It is, in moderation,” Sullivan parroted a previous lecture he remembered from Spencer. “But it’s higher in sugar than some, so just be mindful.”

They wandered amongst several booths, Lucy sliding sidelong glances at her companion. Spencer seemed a little… stiff, she thought. Maybe being outside his normal comfort zone of the warehouse had him on edge.

Or maybe it was her.

She tugged at her shirt and ran a nervous hand through her hair. Her companion noted her gesture, and she smiled self consciously, wondering if he was embarrassed to be seen with her. “This is really great,” she said, trying to sound bubbly. “So many artists mixed in with the food booths!”

Sullivan nodded appreciatively as Lucy walked over to a booth selling lots of pashminas and grabbed a long, emerald green length of fabric. “I know. You can always find something different every time you come here,” he said. “Like it?” he asked, gesturing to the pashmina she held.

“It’s so soft,” she said, rubbing it against her cheek. “Like a fuzzy cloud.”

Sullivan smiled at her description. “Looks great with your eyes,” he said without thinking, and then wondered if Spencer would have said that. Flirtation came naturally to his twin, so, probably, he rationalized.

Lucy blushed and put it down. “Maybe I’ll get it on the way back,” she said.

Sullivan nodded, trying to loosen up and get into character. “How’s…” he paused, trying to remember the realtor’s name who’d sold them the house. “Brandt?”

“He’s good,” Lucy said. “He says hi, as always. He just started dating someone new, so he hasn’t been around the house much.”

Sullivan was about to ask if she and Brandt were roommates, then realized that Spencer would have probably known that. “Anyone nice?”

“He seems pretty nice,” Lucy said, fingering a pretty necklace at the next booth other. “But with Brandt, is doesn’t seem to last. You know how he is.”

Sullivan nodded, having no clue how he was.

They strolled along, looking at the art booths and occasionally stopping, keeping up a patter of small talk along the way and gradually loosening up with each other.

“Wow, a baba ganoush booth?” Lucy exclaimed. “Wasn’t expecting that!”

“You like Middle Eastern food?” Sullivan asked, pulling out his wallet.

“You know I pretty much like any kind of food, don’t you?” she said, gesturing to her midsection with a self deprecating laugh. “But yes, I do.”

Sullivan stepped to the window and placed an order. Moments later, he held out the container to Lucy. “Do you mind sharing?”

“You didn’t have to do that,” Lucy said with a smile. “But thanks – and no, I don’t mind sharing.”

They ate in companionable silence until Lucy spied a bookseller and hurried over, browsing the titles. “Wow, an illustrated compendium of all of Shakespeare’s works,” she murmured and Sullivan bit back a laugh, thinking back to his conversation with Spencer before he arrived.

Maybe he should pick up a trashy mystery to keep up appearances as his brother. Or really mess with his image, Sullivan thought evilly, and pick up a bodice ripping romance.

“Oh, I love this,” Lucy breathed, picking up a leather bound but slightly battered copy of Jane Eyre. “I know we didn’t come here for books, but…”

Sullivan was finding his own treasures, triumphantly pulling out a fantasy novel in a series he’d read and admired for a long time. “Me neither, but…”

Moments later, they both had book purchases in hand, and Lucy was happily talking about her favorite novels – which spanned a number of surprising genres.

Then they talked music… then movies… then book adaptations into movies, then current events, then growing up in Monterey… and Sullivan found he had a lot more in common with Lucy than he would have ever thought.

And she was funny; he didn’t often laugh with people he didn’t know well, but Lucy had a way of putting him at ease and tickling his funny bone.

He liked not being shy and nervous with someone. It was… comfortable with her.

They each got a coffee to drink and sat on one of the benches nearby, commenting on the people strolling through the market, chatting with each other, and making each other laugh, until Sullivan noticed what a great time he was having, and that they’d sat there for more than an hour talking.

And then he realized after they’d been talking for a while he’d sort of forgotten the part he was playing.

He wasn’t himself, he reminded his mind. He was his twin on this particular mission…

“Ooh, strawberries,” Lucy exclaimed, heading straight for the rows of fresh red fruit.

“Oh, yes, and piked today just for you,” Sullivan said with a grin.

“Piked?”

“So the sign says,” Sullivan grinned, noting the hastily handwritten sign proclaiming ‘Strawberries Fresh! Piked Today!’ and pointing it out to Lucy.

She laughed. “Piked, huh? Weird, they don’t look like they’ve been speared…”

“Maybe it was a very tiny spear. A toothpick, maybe,” he said, meeting her warm eyes and smiling into them, matching her grin.

“It was a bloody battle, but here are the, wait for it… fruits of war.”

Sullivan groaned good naturedly but still laughed, and gesturing to the baskets. “You have to get some, right? I mean…”

Lucy grinned and bought two punnets in brown paper sacks, then handed one to Sullivan with a smile. “Payment, for walking around with me.”

“It was my pleasure,” Sullivan said genuinely, even as he felt a bit of reluctance at leaving Lucy after only being with her for a short while.

Lucy looked a bit wistful as the crossed back over to the Portola Plaza, sad that her field trip was ending, and when Spencer had just loosened up and got talking with her…

Unexpectedly, her companion but a hand on her arm to stop her just as she was about to say goodbye. “It’s really nice out… do you… do you wanna maybe walk along the front a bit, maybe head towards Shoreline Park? I mean, we don’t have to, but…”

“Is this just a ploy to get me some more cardio?” Lucy asked teasingly. “Once a trainer, always a trainer.”

Sullivan flushed, but recovered quickly. “You got me. So…”

At that moment, Lucy’s cell phone rang. She dug it out of her pocket and glanced at the number. “I’m so sorry, it’s my brother from overseas. Do you mind? It’ll only take a second.”

Sullivan gestured to the phone. “Of course,” he said, stepping away discreetly to give her some privacy.

Even from his distance from her and the sound of the shore, Sullivan could hear snatches of the conversation.

“I’m trying, Lionel…”

“I know, but…”

“I understand, and I’m working really hard…”

“I know, I know. I understand if you have to make alternate arrangements. I can just stay here…”

“Can you give me some more time? I’m…”

“Okay… I’ll let you know soon…”

“Be careful. Bye.”

Lucy put the phone in her pocket and swiped at her eyes so quickly that if Sullivan hadn’t been paying attention, he would have missed it. Was she… was she crying?

She smiled brightly and squared her shoulder, even though her eyes were shining with what looked like unshed tears. “Well, let’s get moving. I need all the cardio I can get! Like, right now!” she said, marching off towards Shoreline Park with Sullivan struggling to catch up her to abruptly quick pace.

“It’s none of my business,” Sullivan said after a long minute. “But… are you okay?”

“Well, you know it was my brother.”

“I do,” Sullivan said, gently. “He upset you?”

“He’s… well, you know the whole reason I came to you is because of this Kilimanjaro thing.”

Sullivan nodded, grateful that Spencer had told him that nugget of information previously.

“Well, it’s getting closer and closer to booking time. It has to be done way in advance because of the visas and the ceremony at the peak and all that. Anyway, Lionel basically called to see if I’d miraculously dropped a hundred pounds and was ready to scamper to the summit,” Lucy said, all in a rush. “I told him…”

“You told him you were working really hard and doing really well, right?” Sullivan said, suddenly very protective of this injured soul he was walking with.

“Well, I tried, but… let’s face it. You know I haven’t lost much…”

“It hasn’t been very long, Lucy,” Sullivan said earnestly. “What does he expect?”

“He expects me to be as fit as him, in like, no time at all,” Lucy said, sniffling. “I told him I was working hard, but he basically said unless I absolutely believe I could make the summit tomorrow, I should maybe plan on staying home.”

“Insensitive bastard,” Sullivan said without thinking. “What kind of expectation is that? Or pressure? Or, frankly, what kind of support is that? You’re trying, you’re doing well, what the hell does he expect?”

Lucy blinked at the unexpected outburst, her heart swelling at the impassioned defense of her situation.

“He expects perfection. Which is why I’m such a disappointment,” Lucy said with a fake sounding laugh. “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”

“Well, I’m not,” Sullivan said. “This is no way for a brother to treat his sister.”

“He’s just being pragmatic. He’s paying for the ticket, after all, since I can’t afford it on Ryan’s salary.”

Sullivan blinked slowly, processing that statement and trying to make sense of it.

Who the hell was Ryan? Even as he was deciding whether to ask who Ryan was, Lucy solved his dilemma for him.

“I know I haven’t told you why I… why I gained weight,” Lucy said, looking towards the water and away from her walking partner.

“It has to do with… Ryan?” Sullivan ventured, and Lucy nodded.

“Ryan was my husband,” she whispered. “He…”

“Was?” Sullivan interrrupted. “Divorce?”

“Died,” she said softly. “In Iraq. When he died, I was all alone and sad and… and I ate the pain away. A lot.”

Sullivan stopped, turning to face her, noting the pain etched on her features. Without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her into a warm hug. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered into her hair.

She wrapped her arms around him, and began to cry against his solid form, her chest heaving. Sullivan just held her tighter and tighter until she quieted, then released her gently, searching her face for answers.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” Lucy said. “Whew, I haven’t… I haven’t cried like that in a long time. And with… well, with you. I mean, in reality, we don’t know each other that well, but…”

“Sometimes it’s easier with someone who doesn’t know you as well as a family member or best friend,” Sullivan said softly.

Lucy nodded. “I guess that’s true,” she said, wiping her cheeks and giving him a shaky smile. “Anyway, Ryan died, I got bigger, and now I have to get smaller or else, no summit.”

“So… you get Ryan’s…”

“Death benefits,” Lucy said, a hitch in her voice. “But it’s not enough for Africa. I mean, I only make so much with my massage practice…”

Sullivan filed that information away, since he hadn’t known previously what work she did. “Lucy, don’t give up. You’ve got plenty of time.”

“This just means one thing,” Lucy said firmly. “You’ve got to work me out, like, a hundred times harder. And I need to come more often. Is that… can we do that?”

“We can do that, but only if it’s what you want to do,” Sullivan said, hoping that’s what Spencer would have said.

“It is,” Lucy said, resuming their walking pace. “It really is. This isn’t about Africa anymore, this is about me, and about proving myself. Will you help me?” she asked, gazing into his eyes pleadingly.

Sullivan’s stomach twisted as he saw those beseeching, beautiful green eyes relying on him to give her the answer she needed. “Of course. Of course I’ll help you.”

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