The Inquirer

by Jaclyn Dawn

  A horn beeped. I looked out the window to see a Purolator delivery truck pulling up the driveway. I shut the vanity drawer and went out on the porch to sign for what I expected to be farm supplies.

  The driver didn’t step out of the truck with his clipboard, though. A smiling, beach-ready passenger hopped out, dropped his duffle bag beside his sandalled feet, and opened his arms wide. “Are we still on the map?”

  “Nathan!” Breaking from the trance I had been in since the barn incident, I ran down the steps, across the lawn, and into his arms.

  “Now I know for sure I needed to come. You’re never this affectionate.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, my arms still wrapped around his neck. “How did you…?”

  “I bought a one-way plane ticket to Edmonton. Then for a crisp fifty-dollar bill, my friend Sanjit gave me a ride on the way to deliver the reprint of the Inquirer.”

  “Special delivery,” Sanjit called from the driver’s seat of the delivery truck. “Now shut the door so I can go.”

  CHAPTER 22

  NATHAN’S TIMING WAS PERFECT. THE HEAT COULD LAST ONLY SO LONG in Alberta before a thunderstorm. The clouds rolled and darkened overhead, and static filled the air. I couldn’t continue painting the fence if it was going to rain. I couldn’t survive another night on the farm alone, either.

  Nathan looked like an overgrown child with tight blond curls cut short to his head, bright blue eyes, and a cleft chin. We were the same age, but he looked younger than I did. It had nothing to do with his board shorts and Ninja Turtles t-shirt, either. Well, maybe a little. He had a certain energy about him. I, as Dad would have said, looked like life had already chewed me up and spit me out.

  This was Nathan’s first trip to the prairies. Once he changed out of his sandals and into proper shoes, I gave him a tour, which quickly became a photo shoot. He photographed the red barn, fields as high as my knees, and horses out to pasture. After several hilarious failed attempts, we managed to prop Nathan’s phone on a hay bale and beat the timer to pose like the famous colonial painting with the spinster daughter scowling at the farmer holding a pitchfork. I saved the best part of the tour for last.

  “It stinks in here,” Nathan complained as we passed the equipment in the barn and neared the pens.

  “You get used to it,” I said. I was in the habit of breathing through my mouth once I passed the grain truck, so I couldn’t tell him exactly when he would get used to it.

  The mama stood to the side of the pen, watching and chewing. Cutlet was friendlier and struggled to his feet in that awkward way of young animals. I opened the gate, but Nathan hovered outside.

  “Feel how soft he is,” I said, petting the calf.

  Nathan wrinkled his nose and glanced nervously at the twelve-hundred-pound cow. He took one step into the pen, extended an arm like a little kid, and poked the calf. Then he pulled his arm back, relieved the task was over and proud of his bravery.

  “Come on! It’s not like it’s your first petting zoo,” I said. “You work at the Pink Rooster.”

  “Touché.”

  “Get over here. Quit being a wuss.”

  Nathan inched closer, hesitating when the mama turned her head to watch him. He carefully set his hand on Cutlet’s back. His face lit up.

  “My friends are never going to believe this,” he said, “Take a picture! Quick, take a picture!”

  I had a better idea. I gave Nathan a bottle of electrolyte-infused water and told him to sit on the overturned ten-gallon bucket. Cutlet latched onto the nipple, and I held the phone up to catch it on video.

  “You are too cute!” Nathan gushed over the calf.

  That was when the mama cow’s interest perked. As Nathan continued to coo and feed Cutlet, the mama slowly moved closer. Then, with her thick purple tongue, she licked the back of Nathan’s neck like a salt block. Nathan shrieked and jumped to his feet. The bucket tipped with a loud clatter that startled both cow and calf. They scrambled to the back of the pen almost as quickly as Nathan scrambled out the front. I laughed hysterically while catching the whole thing on video.

  “We have to post this online,” I said.

  “Not a chance!”

  Nathan, as always, quickly rediscovered his sense of humour, but he refused to go back in the pen. By the time I finished feeding Cutlet, the weather had turned. It was pouring rain, and mud puddles were already a couple inches deep on the driveway. We got drenched running from the barn to the covered porch. After we each had a hot shower, we reconvened in the kitchen dressed in pajamas.

  “What do you want to eat?” I asked.

  “Whatever smells good over here,” he said, lifting the foil covering the banana bread and the oatmeal raisin cookies I had baked. He handed me a cookie. “Eat something. You’re looking runway skinny.”

  We were halfway through the baked goods when the phone rang. Nathan won the race to the landline with its long spiral cord that he had exclaimed was antique when he first saw it.

  “Hell-o, Williamses’s residence,” he sang. I giggled, wondering who he was confusing on the other end and how many people in town would hear about the strange voice answering the Williamses’s telephone. “I am Nathan. Who is this? … Judith! May I call you Judith?”

  Mom! I tried grabbing the phone, but Nathan dodged me.

  “Your daughter has been holding out on me. I didn’t know she could bake like this. You’re right. The oatmeal raisin ones … Too late. I will make her work her magic tomorrow afternoon and bring you some … Perfect! What a relief. Well, you can just come and get the cookies yourself, then.”

  Midway through his last sentence, I managed to snatch the receiver.

  “You’re coming home?” I asked before it even reached my ear.

  “Hi, Miah. I like this Nathan fellow. Is he single?”

  “Forget him. What’s going on?”

  “Your dad’s fever broke. I didn’t want to be disrespectful of Dr. Brown, but we asked for a second opinion about his leg. I mean, it’s a leg we’re talking about! The new doctor, Dr. Gerard, said we don’t have to amputate. If your dad reacts well to the new antibiotics, we could be home as early as Sunday.”

  “Sunday? That’s great, but what if the infection comes back?”

  “He will be assigned a homecare nurse who will come by daily to change the bandages and keep an eye on the incisions.”

  Was there a better way to celebrate the good news and Nathan’s visit than with a marathon of The Andy Griffith Show? Yes, but not in Kingsley. My parents’ viewing selection was both limited and outdated like all the technology in the house. Most of the movies were on VHS because there was “no point replacing something that’s not broke.” They had a flat-screen TV only because the parts needed to fix their old tube TV had been discontinued. Nathan and I took breaks only to replenish snacks and go to the washroom. When the credits of the fifteenth episode started to roll, Nathan pried his eyes from the screen and gave me a goofy smile.

  “What?” I asked suspiciously.

  “Let’s extend the tour.”

  “You want to tour Kingsley? Why? It’s dark, and everything closed at six o’clock.”

  “It’s like being able to roam the set of your favourite TV show,” Nathan said. “I’ve never been here. I want to see the infamous Kingsley Grocery with my own eyes. Maybe I can even meet some of the characters!”

  “You do know this is real life, not The Andy Griffith Show, right? Kingsley’s not Mayberry.”

  Nathan batted his eyelashes and pushed out his bottom lip. The pitiful look didn’t work on me, but twenty more minutes of nagging did. I found myself driving into Kingsley in my pajamas, hoping we wouldn’t run into any “characters.” Nathan pressed his nose to the window, taking everything in: the high school, the seed cleaning plant, Main Street. I pointed out Mike’s and my old rental house. The little veggie garden I had been so proud of was overgrown with weeds, and broken toys were scattered across the front yard. The tour wouldn’t
have been complete without showing Nathan Danika’s house. We couldn’t resist being this close without sneaking a peek at the damage to Alek’s car, either.

  Danika’s yard was well lit with garden lights and a lamppost. Danika’s minivan and RC’s truck were parked in front of the garage. No other vehicles were out front. We could see the TV flickering through the blinds of the bay window. Then someone lifted the blinds. All we saw was the silhouette of a man, and I punched the gas. Nathan and I both laughed when we rounded the block, but my laughter was nervous. Was it RC? Was it Alek? Was Mike there? Were they on alert for vandals returning to the scene of the crime?

  Alek’s car could’ve been in the garage or parked in the back alley, but I realized what was more likely and couldn’t let it go. I drove to Trenton Auto Body. A handful of vehicles were parked along the street, waiting to be serviced. I parked my Jeep among them and turned off the engine. One of the two streetlights overlooking the fenced-in lot was burnt out. Positioned under the burnt-out streetlight, Nathan lifted me onto his shoulders so I could see over the white plastic fence. Alek’s car was easy to spot. I gasped.

  “What? What do you see?” Nathan whispered. There was no one around, but the quiet street and sneaking around made whispering appropriate.

  “Pass me your phone.” Sitting on top of Nathan’s shoulders, I took a couple pictures. It was tricky because Nathan’s legs were getting tired and I had started to teeter. “I can’t get a clear shot. We need to move to the right,” I said.

  Nathan grunted and shuffled right.

  Headlights flickered between the buildings. A car was coming.

  “Down, down! Car!” I hissed. I slid partway off his shoulders as he crouched. We both tumbled onto the grass and scrambled to duck behind some bushes. My stomach lurched as the streetlights reflected off the decals on the side of the car. We held our breath as the cop car kept its excruciatingly slow pace down the block and around another corner.

  “Let me see the pictures already,” Nathan said, unable to handle the suspense any longer. I handed him his phone. “Oh no.” At least he had the courtesy not to mention how perfect the pictures would be for the next issue of the Inquirer.

  The headlights and windshield of Alek’s silver import had been smashed. Spray-painted on the side of the car in bright-yellow capital letters was MIAH’S BITCH.

  CHAPTER 23

  “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?”

  My eyes popped open and my heart started hammering in my chest. My bedroom was flooded with light. Curled up to Nathan, I had slept better than I had in weeks. We had overslept, and now Mike stood in the doorway glaring at me and the strange man in my childhood bed.

  “Well, good morning,” Nathan said in a groggy voice.

  Mike threw a bouquet of wildflowers on the floor and stormed out. We could hear him hit the wall in the hallway and slam the front door on his way out of the house. I crawled over Nathan, who was playing with the curly blond hairs on his chest that matched the curly blond hairs on his head. I made it to the window to see Mike kick his truck tire and reef open the driver’s door.

  “Who was the handsome rooster with the wake-up call?”

  “Mike.”

  “The Mike?” Nathan’s blue eyes widened. “Dang, he’s one fine-looking country boy.”

  Mike didn’t get into his truck. Instead he slammed the door closed and went stomping back toward the house.

  “Oh, he’s coming back! Get up, get up!” I shrieked, borderline frantic.

  “Why is he coming back? He won’t try to fight me, will he?” Nathan was on his feet, spinning in circles in search of something. I was hoping pants since all he had on was a pair of snug boxer shorts. “I’m a lover, not a fighter!”

  Mike reappeared at the bedroom door. Nathan and I froze, side by side, half naked.

  “You’ve been playing me for a fool. You’re the fool, Miah. I’m sick of your bullshit, and I’m sick of this farm,” Mike shouted. “You have until the end of the month to get your shit together or I’m out of here and Travis is out of here. I’ve been nice up to this point.”

  I opened my mouth to speak, but nothing came out.

  “It’s not what it looks like,” Nathan said.

  “One more word from you and I’ll break your neck,” Mike said. He stormed out of the room again, leaving behind muddy boot prints and crushed flowers. Nathan and I both stood at the window as Mike’s truck spit up gravel in the driveway, but I was almost two years away.

  I squeezed Mike’s truck keys in my hand so hard the teeth bit into my palm. Part of me wanted him to tell me he loved me. Another part wanted him to give me the clear reason I needed to leave.

  “Give me the keys,” he said. He was close enough that I could smell the whisky on his breath.

  “It’s late, and we both have work tomorrow. Stay home with me.”

  “I said no. Give me the keys.”

  Mike shoved me hard. I hit the back of my head against the wall. Taking advantage of my shock, Mike grabbed the keys and left. He had never pushed me like that before. I knew he would be back in a few hours, or at least in the morning, depending on where he went tonight. I never really knew where he went. In the morning, he would tell me he loved me like no one else ever could love me and he would make more excuses and promises. But I couldn’t make myself believe him anymore.

  I started packing. If I didn’t leave that night, I might never go. I packed some clothes, toiletries, food, a couple of personal items I couldn’t bear to leave behind, and important papers, including my letter of acceptance to attend the University of British Columbia.

  “Jealousy isn’t a flattering colour on him,” Nathan declared.

  “You’re the one who wanted to meet the characters.”

  “I tried telling him I am more likely to date him than you.”

  I knew what Nathan had meant but was still insulted. I needed space to think and Nathan needed to calm his nerves, so I did the morning chores while he did his morning yoga routine. When I got back to the house, the muddy prints leading to my bedroom had been cleaned up and the salvageable wildflowers were in a vase on the kitchen table. The bouquet might have been a sweet gesture—if I hadn’t known Mike. Gifts were apologies, usually for things I would suspect but never know. And the only reason the flowers were handpicked was because Mike was too cheap to pay twenty dollars at the Minimart.

  The sky was clear, so I gathered enough painting supplies for two. Nathan mostly suntanned, though. I didn’t mind. At least I had an actual person to talk to. Even painting by myself, I would have the fence finished by the time Mom and Dad were back from the hospital.

  “I don’t know what to do about Mike or Alek or Danika or my parents …”

  “Of course you don’t. You’re incapable of making a decision.”

  “I am not. I moved away from here, didn’t I?” The scariest thing I had ever done was leave Kingsley.

  “Mike made that decision for you. And did you really move? Where is home, Amiah?”

  “What do you mean, ‘Where is home’?”

  “Here, or Vancouver where all your stuff is?”

  “Well, what about the Inquirer? I make decisions for the Inquirer.” I wasn’t referring to font and grammar choices. I helped decide which topics to print and what the contributors failed to consider. Rule three: acknowledge there’s always another side to every story. That was important.

  “I don’t know if that really counts,” he said. “We anonymously put in print what other people are whispering about. We make others make decisions.” Nathan must have seen the concern on my face. “It’s a good thing, Miah. Don’t overthink it. Instead, you should take advantage of it. Mike shouldn’t treat you this way. He gets away with it only because you let him.”

  “I finally picked a major,” I said after a minute.

  “Really? What is it?”

  “Education.”

  “I can see that. Have you told anyone?”

  “Yes,” I said. “Finl
ey and Alek.”

  “Finley? As in the blubberball who told the Inquirer you have the hots for him? And Alek, the random guy you hooked up with to get back at Mike?” Nathan asked. “Safe choices. Who cares what they think?”

  “They’re the only ones who asked.”

  CHAPTER 24

  NATHAN TURNED OVER TO GET SUN ON HIS BACK.

  “Who’s this?” he asked. I turned to see a white minivan slow down and turn into the driveway. “Mike wouldn’t return seeking revenge in a minivan, would he?”

  “No. This is a whole different set of characters.” I didn’t know whether I could handle another of Danika’s lectures. She parked on the other side of my Jeep and approached with a covered baby carrier hooked in her right arm and her chin held high. She was obviously on a mission. She hadn’t come alone, either. Nathan lifted his sunglasses to get a better look. He looked like a cat that had spotted a particularly tall, dark, and handsome mouse. My own mood lifted at the sight of Alek. He looked more relaxed than his sister. Benton was riding on his shoulders.

  “Kingsley knows how to grow ’em,” Nathan murmured.

  It was strange introducing my new best friend to my former best friend. Together they knew me better than anyone, and yet I didn’t think two people could be more different.

  “Alek wanted to talk to you,” Danika said, once the awkward introductions were through. Alek raised an eyebrow at her. “Well, you did.”

  “I didn’t need the escort, though, Mother,” Alek said. Danika rolled her eyes.