There was a flash of white. “Olive?” But it was only the white undertail of the fawn as it leapt away. It had hidden here, waiting for its mother, who would never come. When I was a child, while hanging out here in the summer with my father, I had heard a fawn mewing for its mother: the unmistakable sorrow of its cry, the grief and fear of any young creature separated from its mother.
“Olive!” I called again. I walked down the tree line, then retraced my steps and checked on Evie before walking along the forest edge in the opposite direction, toward my father’s sign, the leaping deer. “Olive!” I cried, over and over. “Olive!”
I found myself standing near the camp road. It was overgrown with small trees that looked like soldiers of an army, ominously waiting for a battle to begin. On either side of the road, forms swam through the bush as the trees shifted in the wind. Farther down, just before the corner, I saw the old barn my father had hung his deer carcasses in. Then movement pulled my attention back to the hunt camp road, the silent sentries standing there. There was something moving ahead, a shape that seemed to churn out of the bush and take form, a shadow running away from me. I squinted in that direction. “Olive?” I called. “Is that you?” It was a girl, running. It must be Olive.
The figure sped up, racing down the road, and then leapt into the bush opposite the barn. I sprinted forward, zigzagging between the young trees on the old road, and launched into the bush at the point I had seen the girl disappear. Branches slapped me in the face as I ran. Trees, blown by the wind, shifted back and forth all around me. Clouds overhead deepened the shadows in these woods.
“Olive, stop!” I cried, but my voice was lost to the forest. I ran and ran and then, realizing I wasn’t sure where I was anymore, I stopped. I had once known this intricate web of deer paths, as I had hunted them often with my father and explored them alone in summer. But now they were overgrown, and in the wind, everything seemed upside down. I was surrounded by ghostly dancing shapes. “Olive!” I cried out, sobbing a little. “Please!”
Something dashed away in the woods ahead, and I leapt over a log to follow it, watching for windfall and roots that might trip me up. I could see the figure running ahead, though only as movement between trees. Still, it must be Olive.
I ran and ran, dogged by blackflies and mosquitos, until I was deep in the forest, a long way from the rental. In the distance, I heard the sound of a vehicle on the road.
I had left Evie alone in the truck.
I stopped. “Olive, we can’t leave Evie. Please come back with me.” I listened for a response. “I have to go back!” I cried.
And then I saw the silhouette of a girl double back, heading toward me. I was relieved that Olive had decided to come with me, for Evie, as I’d known she would. But then the figure approached fast, too fast. In the shadows, it seemed to jump locations unnaturally. First there by that tree, then behind another, closer, then just up ahead. A wash of confusion flooded over me, the kind of mental bewilderment that often hit me during panic attacks, leaving me wondering if I was suffering from a stroke, not quite sure where I was or what I had been doing, or even who I was. “Olive?” I called again, straining to see the form in the dense bush. But it wasn’t Olive. I knew now it wasn’t Olive.
I backed away, and then, as the ghostly shadow jumped again, suddenly appearing within yards of me, I fled. I ran and ran and ran, crying in fear, pushing branches out of my way in panic. I ran through my father’s haunted forest until I reached the hunt camp road, and then I ran through the army of small trees all the way back to the main road. I looked back once from the leaping deer sign to see the dark figure standing on the camp road by the barn, but still now, as if it was only a tree, as if I had conjured it out of my own fear. Maybe I had. Maybe what I’d perceived as a girl was only the movement of bush in the wind. Maybe I’d been chasing my own ghosts in those woods. Or maybe I had chased Olive so deep into the forest that she couldn’t find her way out, and I, in my panic, had left her there. But there was no way I was going back alone now. I needed help.
I ran to my rental and swung the door open. Evie was still sleeping soundly. I kissed her head and then, closing the door gently so as not to wake her, I tapped Nathan’s number. He could bring his beagle, Buddy, out here to track Olive. But there was no cell reception. Of course there wasn’t. We were well out of range of the cell tower here. I lifted the phone to the wind but found no bars. I could double back and phone from the sweet spot at the crossroads, but from here it was quicker to drive to the village and track Nathan down there.
“Olive?” I called again, though I was sure that she was deep in the woods now. “I’m going to get help, but I’ll be right back. I’m not going to leave you. You hear me?”
There was no response.
I jumped into the truck and sped off. I’d likely find Nathan either at home or already at the beach, where the Canada Day celebrations were held every year. With any luck, we’d be back within minutes and Buddy would sniff out Olive hiding in the bush. That is, if Olive didn’t find her way out of the forest and catch a ride first. Luckily, there would be few cars on this back road. Tourists and most locals took the other route, and anyone on the roads that evening would be headed toward the beach for the fireworks, rather than in the other direction, off the island.
Still, I would have to be quick. I was leaving a thirteen-year-old girl alone, terrified, in those haunted woods. And I, more than anyone, knew exactly what that felt like.
13
My mind felt loose as I drove, untethered, unreal, like I was watching myself. The landscape ahead smudged and blurred, and I wiped the tears away with my thumb. This would be over soon, I told myself. Nathan and his beagle would find Olive, and everything would be okay. Maybe I didn’t even have to tell Aaron about it. I was sure Olive wouldn’t want me to. But then I chided myself for the thought. Of course Aaron needed to know.
I checked in the rearview mirror to see if Evie was still asleep, and then rounded the corner that took us into the village. It was a sleepy little beachside town, quiet even at the height of tourist season. But now it was filled with locals from other parts of the island, summer people and tourists here for the Canada Day outdoor concert and fireworks later in the evening. I passed a stream of foot traffic progressing along the sidewalk. A few of the kids waved Canadian flags like they were on parade. An older couple wore matching red and white top hats emblazoned with the maple leaf. Flags of various sizes flapped in front yards along the road.
I pulled up in front of Nathan’s house, a little white bungalow, but he wasn’t out on his deck as he often was this time in the evening, nursing a beer with Buddy lying on his bare feet, and the lights were off inside. He’d left the porch light on, which he only did when he was out for the evening. An old baby-blue Ford was parked next to his Dodge Ram. Likely one of the buddies that he worked with in the framing crew. They’d walked to the beach party together. Nathan never missed the Canada Day celebrations, though he and I usually went together. We had since we were teens.
I backed my rental out onto the road and continued down the street, searching the crowd for any sign of him. And then there he was on the sidewalk ahead, walking Buddy on a leash. His ginger hair made him easy to spot. My heart fluttered a little at the sight of him, the feeling in my chest like the kicking of Evie’s tiny feet inside my belly during the final months of my pregnancy. As always, whether at work or not, he was dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, forest green this time, and strode with the upright stance of a man used to physical work.
There was a thin, deeply suntanned woman next to him. Were they walking together? There were so many people making their way down the sidewalk to the beach it was hard to tell. But then Nathan reached out and took her hand. He took her hand. A sick feeling settled in my stomach. So she was the owner of the baby-blue Ford. The woman wore flip-flops, denim shorts and a halter top that showed off tanned, muscular arms. She was a manual laborer of some kind, then, used to working outside,
maybe a landscaper. Her hair was tied up in a haphazard bun. She looked familiar, though I couldn’t place her.
For a moment, I thought of driving on, as if I hadn’t seen them together. But Olive was back in that forest alone, and if she found her way out, she could catch a ride with some stranger or, perhaps worse, with Madison. I had to find her fast. I pulled the truck to the curb just ahead of Nathan and the woman. Buddy lifted his head as if he’d caught a fresh scent.
I got out of the truck and jogged to meet Nathan on the sidewalk. Buddy barked and waved his tail, recognizing me, and, alerted to my presence, Nathan dropped the woman’s hand.
“Kira? What the hell are you doing here?” He looked ahead to the truck, as if wondering where Evie was. “You told me you canceled your trip up.”
“I need you to come with me right now.” I waved at him to follow.
“Why? What’s happened?”
I glanced back at the woman, who now skulked nervously behind him. I didn’t want to explain anything to her. Nathan, perhaps seeing my look of hurt and confusion, introduced us. “This is Ashley,” he said, and then, to her, “This is Kira,” his voice level, like he was telling her to watch what she said. I did know her. Where did I know her from? Recognition flitted across her face too. And something else. Disdain. It wasn’t the first time I’d seen that look from a local.
“I hit a deer,” I said, nodding to the truck. I would explain the rest on the way.
Nathan took one look at the front end and said, “Jesus.”
From the impact with the deer, a headlight was busted and the front bumper crumpled. Deer hair and bits of flesh were caught in the crushed metal.
“I’ll take Buddy,” Ashley said, reaching for the dog’s leash.
“No!” I said, a little too loud. “Nathan, we need Buddy.”
“The deer ran off?” Nathan asked.
“Not exactly.”
He tilted his head at me. He knew something else was going on. “Okay. Just give me a minute, all right?”
“Nathan, we really need to go.”
“I said, just a minute.”
I sulked back to the driver’s side and got in while he spoke to Ashley on the sidewalk, his back to me. As I watched in the mirror, Ashley raised a hand angrily in my direction. She didn’t hug him back when he embraced her, her arms dangling at her sides. I looked away, to the elderly house across the street that listed to the side as its foundation slowly sank into the sand.
Nathan opened the back door to let Buddy in next to Evie, who shifted in her sleep. Then he got into the front. I did a shoulder check and, after waiting for a car to pass, pulled a U-turn. When I looked in the side mirror, I saw Ashley still standing there on the sidewalk, watching us drive away.
“I’m sorry about Ashley,” Nathan said quietly. “When you said you weren’t coming up . . . I mean, you and I always go to the fireworks together. I guess I was pissed.”
I raised a hand. “I don’t—I can’t talk about this right now,” I said. “Nathan, Olive ran off on me.”
He shook his head as his mind shifted gears. “Olive? Why did you bring her up here?”
I hesitated. “I’ll explain all that later. But right now I need your help. When I stopped to put down the deer, Olive got spooked and ran off into the bush at the hunt camp.”
“So she’s out there in the woods right now?”
“Yes. Please, Nathan, you’ve got to find her.”
Nathan gestured at his house, just up ahead. “Stop at my place for jackets and flashlights.”
“We don’t have time.” My voice had gone shrill. “We need to get to Olive now.”
“Kira, without jackets, we’ll be eaten alive by mosquitos and blackflies, and the search may take some time. We could be looking for her in the dark. In that forest, I need to see where I’m going.”
“Fine. Fine!” I turned sharply into his driveway, next to Ashley’s old blue Ford.
“I’ll be right back.” He left the truck door open as he jogged into his house.
I drummed the steering wheel as I scanned the passing vehicles, looking for any sign of Madison, or Sarah’s van. There were several minivans just like it here already, parked along the side of the road or near the beach, families here for the fireworks. Madison and Sarah could be in any one of them, maybe even watching us now, but in this crowd of people, it would be hard to spot them. It seemed clear now that Madison had driven up from Toronto with Sarah. Tipped off by Olive, they might have reached the island before us and waited at the bridge for us to arrive, knowing we’d have to stop there, that they could get to Olive there. I just hoped they hadn’t followed me down the back road and seen Olive take off on me, or they might get to her first.
Nathan jumped into the rental, wearing a rain jacket and carrying a second, along with a couple of flashlights. As he buckled in, I backed up and took off down the road, keeping an eye on the rearview mirror to see if anyone was following. There was a car behind us, but it pulled to the side of the road to park near the dunes.
“Who is she?” I asked.
“Who?” he replied, though I’m sure he knew exactly who I was talking about.
“Ashley.”
“I work with her,” he said, like I should know. “She’s on my crew.”
I finally remembered where I’d seen her. In the spring, I had dropped in on one of Nathan’s construction jobs, a new beachside cottage, with a surprise lunch, a wicker picnic basket of specialty cheeses and artisan breads that I laid out on a checkered tablecloth, a production that had elicited catcalls from his coworkers on the crew and embarrassed Nathan. Ashley was there that day, working on an outside wall. At the time she wore sunglasses and a red bandana to hold her hair back, a tool belt around her waist. I’d been impressed that she was a carpenter on the crew, but not impressed enough to talk to her. In any case, Nathan hadn’t introduced me. He had gulped down my carefully prepared lunch and unceremoniously shooed me away so he could get back to work. I left, hurt, with an empty picnic basket. There was so much about his life I didn’t know. So much about this village I didn’t know. But then, I hadn’t taken the time to build a community here, other than with Nathan and Teresa. I had kept my distance.
“No, I mean . . .” I left the rest of my sentence hanging there: Who is Ashley to you?
“She’s an old friend,” he said. “We went to school together.”
“A buddy,” I said, sarcastically. At the sound of his name, Buddy sat up on the back seat and snuffled, his tongue lolling. “You were holding her hand.”
Nathan snorted, shaking his head a little. Here I was, giving him shit about seeing a woman on the side? “Seriously?” he said.
“Are you seeing her?” I asked.
“I see her every day,” he said. “We work together.”
“That was noncommittal.”
“What do you want me to say?”
As I gripped the steering wheel, I glanced at the engagement ring Aaron had given me. What did I want him to say? That he would always be on this island, waiting for me, as he had since we were teens, ready to pick up where we left off in our perennial summer romance, even as I lived with another man?
“How long?” I asked. How long have you been screwing Ashley, Nathan?
Nathan hesitated. “A while,” he said.
“How long?” I demanded.
“It’s been off and on. Since high school.”
Since high school. “So, all those times we were together, she was in the picture?”
He shrugged. “Not always. I dated a few others.”
When I gave him a hard look, he said, “You’re the one who always wanted to keep things casual. Did you really expect me to wait around while you had someone else’s baby?”
My heart skipped a beat as I thought of the letter from the lab that almost certainly waited for me at the summer house.
“In any case, what does it matter?” he said. “You came up here to end things with me once and for all, did
n’t you?”
I felt a surge of heat in my gut.
“The ring,” he said, nodding at my hand. An emerald-cut diamond. A beauty, my father would have called it, whistling long and low in that way that made my mother furious at him. A beauty.
“I’m so sorry, Nathan. This isn’t how I wanted to tell you.”
“I would have committed to you if I thought I had a chance,” he said, and his voice broke a little. “Do you know how many times I thought of flying down to Toronto and turning up at your house?” From the back of the crew cab, Evie murmured a complaint in her sleep and Buddy whined, both responding to the emotion in his voice. “But I never did. Because even before you got involved with Aaron, I knew the only place you would ever want me is here.”
“Nathan . . .”
He waited, but I had nothing to offer him. He was part of my life here, but I lived a whole other life when I left the island.
Nathan shook his head angrily. “And the crazy thing is, when you call, I still come running.” He held out his hands as if to say, Look at me now.
“I’m sorry I have to involve you in this,” I said. “It’s not fair to you. I just—when Olive ran off, I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
“Again, why did you bring her up here in the first place?”
“It’s complicated. Madison has been hounding us for weeks now, trying to get to Olive.”
“But she’s the kid’s stepmother, right? I mean, she’s been Olive’s mother for a long time. Why wouldn’t you want her to see Olive?”
“Because the woman is absolutely fucking nuts. First she wouldn’t let Olive come home on weekends. Then, when Aaron brought Olive to live with us, Madison started harassing Aaron, trying to ruin his reputation so she could get Olive back. And now she’s stalking me. Nathan, she broke into our house this morning and tried to take Olive.”
The Almost Wife Page 8