“Oh—and how did that work out?” Rich finished his drink.
“Like this!” Jen suddenly appeared, towing Red Cloud by the hand, as she proudly announced, “I’m Tinkerbell and Red is Peter--,”
“Never mind--,” Red grumbled, nervously adjusting his hat and green tights.
“Don’t be so grouchy--,” Rich winked at the old native, “You look kind of cute.”
“And you can look kind of scalped--,” Red Cloud glared, “It is not too late to change into my angry Red man costume….”
“Oh—be nice!” Carrie slapped at Red shoulder, looking around, and asked, “Now where the heck did Scott wander off too?”
“He was sniffing around the hedge the last time that I looked.” Edward and his wife came to our table and he said with a polite smile, “You might want to get that man a collar?”
“There isn’t a collar that could hold him.” Rich did his best impression of Groucho Marx.
“Thank you for coming--,” I shook Edward’s hand, bowing respectfully to his wife, and said, “And thank you kindly for all the desserts and treats. It was really very kind of you.”
“You are very welcome--,” He chuckled, winking, and said, “It’s the least that I can do for a new patient.”
I had just laughed at the remark, but noticing the expression on Caitlin’s face, looked back to him as he said, “It’s true—she released your previous doctor from his obligations. I have signed on for the duration, house-calls included. No additional fee—for friends of course.”
She had just smiled, shrugging, and looked back into the crowd.
“Well, then--,” I sighed deeply, ‘”If the food is as good as the snacks, sign me up!”
“We did--,” Caitlin kissed me, “I knew that you would agree.”
“Would anyone care for one of Eva’s special ciders?” Norman grumbled while approaching with a silver tray filled with beverages.
“What’s so special about them?” Carrie appeared strangely suspicious as she eyed the tray.
“They were prepared with plums rather than apples. And, it has been my unfortunate experience to say--,” The old man muttered, his eyes flitting into the crowd as he whispered, “That they are among some of the finest laxatives that a person might drink….”
“I’ll pass—but thank you anyway.” Carrie turned from the tray as Scott re-appeared, shoving a hand to his stomach in obvious discomfort, and said, “I need to run into the house….”
“How many ciders did you have?” She watched curiously as he danced about.
“Only three or four, five, maybe six tops.” His stomach roared and gurgled, as turning, he rushed off toward the back door.
“That man just never learns.” She sighed, rolling her eyes, and gratefully indulged pastry offered by Deb and Ray within passing.
At that moment Dennis had appeared from out of the crowd. Intending to consume one of Eva’s special ciders, he gasped as Carrie snatched it out of his hand and dumped it into the hedge. He had seemed confused, but then shrugging and with a smile, vanished back into the crowd.
After everyone else had been seated for desserts, I had taken the opportunity to speak alone to Harry and Tim. We had taken a seat at a little bench beyond the crowd and beneath the shadow of a stone angel. The lights of the lanterns casting autumnal glows upon us, we sat over coffee and tea and quietly spoke.
“The world has certainly changed in just a short time.” I had said, peering back into the large gathering, “It seems that our family grows almost daily, and that life seems better all of the time.”
“Do you ever miss the quiet, small-town life?” The look in Harry’s eyes spoke volumes.
“I miss it enough to visit old friends for a weekend, from time to time.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Tim had chuckled, “So when can we expect to see you again?”
“Well--,” I’m trying to finish my current book. It’s the fourth in the series—and taking a little more out of me than the others.”
“Why is that?” Harry appeared concerned.
“Sometimes I end up travelling into some of the strangest places and worst situations, looking for inspiration for new stories.” I thought for a moment, sipping at my tea, and said, “And to be completely on the level: Some of those stories make what happened in Hedley seem mild in comparison.”
“Maybe, it’s time to just call it quits?” Tim glanced at Harry, swallowing hard as he said, “Why don’t you just make it all up like most fiction authors?”
“I suppose that in my mind—it just wouldn’t be the same.” Contemplating briefly, I sighed deeply before saying, “Or maybe I’m just not as good as other writers—and couldn’t just make it all up from my own imagination.”
“That’s a load of hog-wash—and you know it!” Harry scoffed at the thought, “But Tim’s right. You should consider just dropping this whole road-trip to hell deal and just write it out of your head.”
“He has a point.” Tim agreed, “We’re not exactly kids anymore. Sooner or later it’s all going to catch up with you. Maybe, when you’re done with this one, you should take a little break, you know?! A vacation – forget all of this dark and nasty stuff.”
There hadn’t even been any consideration on my part. I had just looked down, shaking my head as I peered back at them, “I do my best work in the fall and winter months. And I spend the rest of the year gathering material. It never truly ends.”
“Well then—I hate to tell you this, my friend--,” Harry looked to Tim and then back at me, “But if what you’re telling us is true—and the ride is getting rougher all of the time, then you better make an ending to this soon—before something does it for you….” There was genuine fear and concern in my friend’s expression and tone. It was a warning and concern that Rich had also expressed earlier, but that I just could not accept. Tim had noticed the apprehension in my distant stare and attentively changed the subject, “When are you expecting to finish this new book? Is it close to being done now? Maybe we could get together afterwards?”
“I’m hoping to have it completed by the end of November—but you guys both know that I don’t like coming through the Fraser Canyon in the winter. I’ve had too many close calls over the past few years. It just leaves me on edge.”
“For a guy that goes poking around in the dark looking for nightmares--,” Tim said, appearing somewhat surprised, “I would think that a little snow on a highway would be the least of your worries.”
“It’s not so much the highway or snow--,” I had quietly explained, giving it a moment’s thought, as I looked to him and quietly said, “But what’s buried beneath it and lingering in the shadows of some places….”
They had looked to one another as though shaking off something remaining from a bad dream. And then fidgeting nervously with an empty soda bottle, Harry had said, “Well, either way, you can count on us for the Christmas party this year. I’ll be bringing Maureen this time.”
I had looked between him and Tim with certain surprise, and smiling, asked, “Oh, so you have both finally decided to make it official?”
“We’re definitely going to be tying the knot in May or June.” He beamed like a school-boy, “But we’re not sure of the exact date yet.”
Embracing and slapping him on the back, I gasped, shocked and pleased at the same time, “Congratulation, old boy! You had better send us invitations—I wouldn’t miss this for the world!”
“Well—we plan to get hitched here in town.” He explained with a shrug, “Better hotels, restaurants and that way I’ll be sure that you’ll make it.”
“You can count on it--,” I promised, “I’ll let Caitlin know. You can catch her at home almost any time. That way, even if I’m off and about somewhere, we can organize this properly. She’s much better at these things than I am.”
“We haven’t made our minds up just yet.” Harry glanced sadly at Tim and then back at me, “But we have been talking about re-locating—and moving i
nto Vancouver.”
Tim frowned, an immediate disappointment and apparent sense of loss filling his heart with the suggestion. But then he smiled, and shrugging, offered a little optimism, “They’re talking about building a golf course on the adjoining property. Who knows? Maybe I’ll sell the old parlor and buy something here in town as well?”
“Then we could all be together again.” Harry appeared over-joyed with the thought, “And to be straight with you guys—I’ve never felt quite right in town since the winter of ‘72. I’m always looking over my shoulder, wondering if something is back there in the shadows just waiting.” He visibly shuddered with the thought, “Oh—and just wait until you see the new diner—I still don’t feel right in the place. Gives me the willies after what happened.”
“I feel the same way--,” Tim admitted, “Those winter nights still bother me. It still keeps me awake during blizzards, listening to the wind in the canyon….”
“I don’t think that any of us will ever get over what happened there.” I had agreed, “The winter nights still bother me, and the memories give me nightmares at times. Sometimes, when I look out into the snow and among the deep shadows of the pines—I wonder if there’s something out there—looking back.”
“And the worst of it all is--,” Harry swallowed hard, placing down the empty soda bottle, and said, “That if there really was something out there, we wouldn’t even know until it was on us—and by then it would be too late….”
Nervously peering between them, I shook off the dread, “I’m certain that we can get you both settled comfortably, right here in town.” I reassured them with a smile, happy to accommodate them, “Maybe even within a few blocks? I know that Caitlin would love to have Maureen closer, the more the merrier.”
“They sure spend enough time on the phone.” Harry had shaken off the previous conversation and changed the mood, “I mean, geez—what the hell do women talk about for so long?”
“Who knows—but at least it keeps them busy--,” I remembered Caitlin’s words to Maya, and said, “And out of trouble for the most part.”
“Then we can discuss that over dinner and at the Christmas party--,” Harry gave it the thumbs-up, “I know that Maureen will be thrilled, especially having Caitlin here. You know how women love to chatter over tea.”
“Are you alright, I mean, have you been feeling okay, honestly?” Tim’s expression grew solemn.
“I don’t believe that anyone has ever accused me of that before?” Attempting to take the edge off the comment, I winked, “But, I’m as good as I can get.”
Harry had slapped my shoulder. Nodding, he said, “Good enough for me. Just try to take it a little easier. We’d all like to keep you around a little longer.”
Holding up my mug of black and sugarless tea, I winked, “No cream or sugar, not even a nibble of pumpkin pie or a single Halloween candy. Harry—old friend, I am really trying.”
“And he’s being closely watched at all times.” Rich approached from out of the darkness.
“As he should be--,” Tim shook hands with Rich, “It’s good to know he has you out here.”
“Sounds like a full-time job--,” Harry slapped Rich on the shoulder, almost sending him over, and laughed as he added, “Just send us a bill, monthly.”
“Sorry to interrupt--,” Rich chuckled, looking to me and saying, “Caitlin was asking when you were planning on shutting down for the evening? There’s a chill in the air—and everyone needs to work in the morning.”
“Oh-oh—we had better get back to the food Ollie--,” Tim had scratched at his head beneath his hat--,”Before they put everything away!”
Harry had removed his own hat, whacking Tim on the head with it, and said, “Now, isn’t that just like you, always thinking of your stomach.” And in a second thought, fidgeting with the brim of his hat and looking to me, said, “But I certainly wouldn’t want all that good food to go to waste.”
“Then you had better get back to the party, gentlemen--,” I waved them onward, watching as they quickly moved back toward the crowd, “You have fifteen minutes to do as much damage as you can.”
“They seem like a pair of really terrific guys.” Rich had watched them depart, “You must really miss them.”
“I just count my blessings—and enjoy the time that we have together,” I gently patted my friend’s shoulder, leading him back toward the crowd, as I said, “And am eternally thankful for all of you.”
The evening had soon passed and as the night became considerably too cold, we decidedly closed down the affair. The merry gathering all helping as we cleared the tables, took down the lanterns and put away the food. As the last few had departed through the gates, I had stood with Tim and Harry as they prepared to leave.
Still wearing their costumes and sitting in the Eldorado with the top down, Tim had shaken my hand in sad parting, “I’ve never liked this part of the evening—or saying good-bye.”
“That’s why I don’t believe in farewells--,” I patted the top of his hat, forcing a smile, and said, “Only till then.”
“You take care of yourself—old buddy--,” Harry reached past Tim and took hold of my hand. There was a solemn sadness in his expression that ran deeper than most farewells. “And always remember that we’re here for you, and that we love you—you crazy son of a gun.”
For reasons beyond explanation, I was suddenly terrified that this might be our final parting in this life. There was a dull look in his eyes, as though he were already miles away, some shadow from out of the past.
“I’ll be seeing you again soon, old friend--,” I had looked between them, “You both mean the world to me as well. Be careful out there driving home, there’s always snow in the pass around this time of year. Take it slow and easy, and be sure to call me when you get back home.”
“You got it--,” Harry had given me a two thumbs up in parting, “I’ll be seeing you for Christmas dinner, old buddy, till then!”
“I’ll be certain to call just as soon as we get back.” Tim promised, his expression more wearied than worried, “You be good and stick to that diet.” He gently patted my stomach, “I think that it’s already doing you some good.”
“Now, cut that out, Stanley!” Harry had swatted Tim with his hat, “Can’t you see that the man’s sensitive about that big fat belly, hanging out from under his shirt?”
“You be safe—and make sure to call--,” I had patted Tim’s shoulder as they had both tipped their hats. And as Stan and Ollie had waved in departure and pulled away into the night, my heart sank in that saddest of farewells. As the lights had vanished down the dark and empty street, I had stood there quietly for several moments, before closing and quietly locking the gates.
It had been an exceptionally long night, sipping at tea while attempting to stay awake. I had anxiously awaited notification from my old friends. It had been several long hours, and much longer than anticipated, but Tim had finally called.
“I’m sorry to have kept you waiting so long--,” He had explained, “But you were right—there was a fresh snow-fall in the pass. We had to follow a snow-plow almost all of the way home from there.”
“All that matters is that you made it back alright--,” Leaning back into my chair with an utter sense of relief, I had said, “You know, when you left I was terribly concerned. I’m not sure what it was? It seemed like there was something strange in the way that Harry had looked at me?”
“We are both very worried about you, especially with this recent health condition.” Tim sounded miles away, “Don’t think anything of it—just get some sleep and we’ll talk soon.”
“Thanks for the call—it was good seeing you again. Be well and talk again soon, Tim—till then.” Something caused me to falter before hanging up the phone, “Oh, Tim?”
“Yes?” His voice seemed a million miles away.
“You don’t really think that any of those things might still be out there somewhere. Do you?”
“I honestly don’
t know—and would rather not find out.” He seemed utterly terrified with the thought, “But I think that I will be selling this place as fast as possible, and relocating soon, too.”
“Stay safe, old friend—keep an eye on Harry and please, don’t take any chances….”
“And you as well—till then.”
As the receiver went dead in my hand and the dial tone rang, I sat there unwilling to hang up the phone. For some reason it felt as though I were letting go of something essential, parting forever with old friends. Was it only some form of fear-driven paranoia? Or was some remnant of that prehistoric nightmare still crawling around in the depths of that old mine?
Dropping the phone onto its base, I slowly turned and looked toward the window. The memories of an old motel and a winter years ago flowed like a blizzard into my mind. I stared blindly at the hazed images of men struggling through deep snow. And then, Sergeant Harris’s last moments before the explosion that had destroyed the monster and taken his life. Our escape by snowmobile as Gene had desperately raced through the blackness toward town! And the accident that had cast me into an icy ditch, as a train had claimed the horror that had been in swift pursuit!
I had suddenly leapt as Merlin brushed against my leg, gasping and wiping the cold sweat from my brow as I had leaned down. “Hey, old man—you scared the heck out of me.”
He had just sat there and contentedly purred as I scratched behind his ears and under his chin. It was truly amazing how far we had come together in this adventurous journey called life. After our first meeting on that fateful winter night in Tim’s morgue, he had managed to survive the horrors and bitter cold of Hedley that year.
I still had no idea of how old he actually was. He had put on a considerable amount of weight over the past few years, and recently appeared to have been slowing down. In all respects he had seemed middle-aged when we had first met, but growing older with each day.
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