Between Here and the Horizon by Callie Hart Page A

 
    “Wonderful.” Linneman began making small scribbles on a stack of papers he pulled out of his briefcase. “If you could please sign everywhere you see a cross, Ophelia, we’ll be done in no time.”
    We wouldn’t, though. The sheets of paper were never-ending, as were the efficient little Xs Linneman was dashing everywhere. “What’s all this for?” I asked. “I already signed an employment contract before I left California.”
    “This is so you can assume legal guardianship of the children. Here. This one you have to sign twice, see. One here and one here.” He pointed, showing me something, but I wasn’t paying attention.  
    “Excuse me? Legal guardianship? I don’t think so.”
    More bird-like than ever, Linneman’s head twisted on his neck so that he was looking at me, his body still facing forward. “Oh, yes. Ronan said he spent a great deal of time selecting you for this purpose. He said you agreed to care for the children for a period no less than six months. Is that not the case?”
    “I did, yes, but…but I thought he was going to be alive while I was looking after them. He said he was going to be writing a book! I don’t…are you saying he planned this?”
    Linneman shrugged, trickles of water now dripping from the hem of his coat, leaving tiny puddles on the kitchen tiles. “Ronan was a pragmatic guy. He always did consider the future. I suppose that’s why he did so well in New York. Never made any brash decisions with his money there, or so I’m led to believe.”
    “ He just fucking killed himself! Those cops said he set fire to some feed barn just a minute ago. He clearly wasn’t sane. I can’t look after his kids!”
    “Pssshhh. Ronan was eleven when he set that fire. And there was always speculation that it wasn’t even him. A long time’s passed since then.” He didn’t seem to be hearing the part where I told him I couldn’t care for Connor and Amie. He held out the pen to me like it was Excalibur and I was meant to try and yank it out of his hand or something.  
    “I think given the situation I should probably go back to California,” I said, using my most level voice—the one I reserved for unreasonable five-year-olds who wouldn’t do as they were told.  
    “I see.” Linneman closed his hand around the pen, dropping his arm to his side. “Well, that is a shame. Ronan seemed so sure you’d be able to get everything settled here if he were gone.” He paused, and then said, “If you don’t mind, I’ll leave the papers here for you to look over. If you reconsider, you can always call me on my cell and I can come and pick up the documents tomorrow morning, before the social worker gets here.” He said this so breezily, as if it didn’t matter either way what I decided. It did, of course. It mattered a great deal. State care was awful—Connor and Amie were in for a rough time. But I was only supposed to be their tutor. Their nanny. I wasn’t supposed to be legally responsible for their welfare at all times. It was too much to ask. Way too much to even think about right now.
    “You’ve got my number, of course,” Linneman said. “Now, I’m sorry for the flying visit, but I have to get going. There’s more paperwork that needs to be signed, and Sully shouldn’t hear the news from those two buffoons in there. Better it comes from me.” He briskly closed his briefcase, leaving the stack of annotated papers behind on the kitchen counter, then hightailed it off down the hallway again, coat tails flaring out behind him, revealing a dusky gray suit underneath.  
    “Wait, Mr. Linneman? I’m sorry? Who’s Sully?”
    Linneman paused, casting a brief glance at me over his shoulder. One of his ruffled, steel gray eyebrows twitched slightly. “You don’t know?” He sighed. “No, well, Ronan wasn’t likely to mention him to you, I suppose. He wouldn’t have brought him up if his life depended on it.” He smiled, perhaps a little ironically. “Sully is