“What?”
“Your speech. You telling me how sorry you are about the cattle. But you want to work out here during the summer ’cause you heard that our weights are still better than everybody else’s. My mom’s been pecking at my dad about it all morning.”
“Your weights are better?”
“Yeah. Doesn’t mean they’re fat as they’d be if there were no wolves. But we did okay. Probably just a fluke.”
“That’s amazing.”
“You skipped the ‘I’m so sorry about everything part.’”
“I am sorry about everything.”
“I’ve been making your life hell since third grade. We’ll call it square.”
I walk over to the cabinet and look it over carefully. I wonder how much more wire Will has behind the door. I don’t want to get Kenner into this. But he is. We all are. Now I have to use a small bluff. “How soon until William gets home from the lake?”
He looks surprised but doesn’t ask how I know. “Depends on the fish, I guess. Why?”
“I found Will putting up snares. He threatened me.”
Kenner doesn’t say anything at first. His eyes wander around the shed. “Why are you telling me?”
“He also threatened to do something to ‘someone else.’ Who do you think that would be?”
“How should I know?”
“Because you know everything he does.”
“I don’t. I really don’t.”
“The parade, the stores, the snares. What’s next?”
“What? Just because he hates wolves doesn’t mean he did those things.”
“What’s it going to take? Shooting somebody? He needs help and he won’t get it if everyone keeps pretending this is about wolves.”
Kenner glares at me. “Yeah, I know what kind of help you’ll be. The same kind of help Virgil is, not keeping his big mouth shut. Can’t even come out here and face me.”
“This isn’t Virgil’s problem.”
“It isn’t yours either.”
“Will’s made it my problem. “
“Well, then I guess you’ll have to deal with it.”
“Turns out Will’s not a very sneaky arsonist. He left something next to the fire at our store.”
Kenner stands up and kicks at the chair. It skitters across the floor and falls to the ground. “Haven’t you ruined my family enough?”
I say, “I care about your family. But he started the store on fire. Yesterday he was talking about hurting someone. He’s out of control.”
Kenner glares at me. I’m sure he wants to pound me flat, but he doesn’t. I walk over and pick up the chair and sit down in it.
He says, “So you’re going to turn him in, is that what you came out here to tell me?”
“It can go that way. But if he admits to the fire and the shooting, things are going to be a lot different for everybody. He might not even go to jail.”
“You do believe in fairy tales.”
“Anything else you want to tell me before I head to Holiday Point?”
His eyes tell me I’ve guessed right again. He says, “Get out of here.”
“I am sorry about everything,” I say.
I sneak out so Heidi won’t see me leaving without petting her kittens.
Will usually launches his fourteen-footer from the same place Dad keeps his small drift boat in a slip, Holiday Point, but not always, so it was good to get that out of Kenner. With a little luck I should be able to find him. If the weather holds. Then I’m going to need a lot of luck.
Normally with clouds on the mountain like they are today, I might wait a few minutes before I launch, watching the wind. But I don’t have that kind of time. Once Will knows that Virgil is gone, it’s going to be harder to be persuasive. A lot depends on me being persuasive.
I row out into the choppy water. My hands are still tender from the snares incident, but I stretch out my legs and row hard. The lake is cluttered with runoff debris. I navigate a group of floating logs being visited by mergansers. I watch a bald eagle searching for fish. I wish I was doing this for fun. I wish I had gloves.
I row west toward the dam. I steer clear of another group of logs even bigger than the last. I keep going. The fishing is impossible for novices in this part of the lake, which is why I think I’ll find Will here. Like me, he’s always doing things the hard way.
I get lucky. Within forty minutes of leaving the pier I see him. He sees me, too, and he stays put.
By the time I row up near his boat my heart is pounding a hole in my chest, and I’m reciting lines to myself about accidents and destiny. Mainly I hope it’s not my destiny to be one of William’s accidents.
“Look who’s here,” says William. “Miss Random Acts of Irritation.”
“How ya doing, Will?” I come in parallel to Will’s boat. Close enough to talk, but far enough away to row backward if I need to.
Will says, “I was pretty good until about one minute ago. You come to give me another lecture about wolves?”
“No. But I want to talk to you.”
“That’s funny, because I want to fish.” His lips smack when he talks, and his eyes are watery. He’s drunk.
“You have a lot of empties,” I say, looking at the beer cans he’s stacked on the other seat.
“What else is there to do around here but drink, fish, and hunt? I guess there’s one other thing but you’re not my type. Are you my type, KJ?”
This isn’t going to work. Isn’t that what Virgil said? I didn’t count on William being drunk. I feel the panic rising in my throat but I ignore it and focus on the next step. My dad says the fastest way to sober up a client is to give them a bill.
Will says, “Did you come out here to stare me to death?”
A gust of wind raises white tips around our boats. I know I can’t dance around this but I’m afraid. Finally I say, “Your truck left tracks in the snow at the fire.”
“What?”
“You left tire tracks when you set fire to the Dumpster outside of our store. You were probably in such a hurry to get out of there you didn’t think about it. But Virgil took pictures. A lot of pictures. Those are unusual tires. And so is the noise your truck makes. Which my dad heard loud and clear that night and described in detail to the police.”
Will squeezes his beer can and throws it into the water. The white caps tip it back and forth and carry it away. “You think I started that fire?”
“Yes, I do. And I think you shot at the ice statue from the Steak House rooftop.”
“Oh, yeah?” Will’s not much of poker player. His face twists up. “You think too much.”
“Accidents happen. It’s what we do next that matters.”
“You been working on that?”
“Kinda.”
“Keep working.”
I row closer to him. I can smell the beer from my boat. “You can’t keep snaring, shooting, and setting fire to everything that pisses you off.”
He spits over his boat. “I can try.”
“I don’t think you started out to hurt people.”
“I started out to get rid of wolves that aren’t supposed to be here. And pretty soon that will be legal.”
“I saw the bruise on Heidi’s arm. Did you mean to do that?”
Will is sloppy from drinking but I’ve hit the nerve I was looking for. “I’ve never touched Heidi.”
“The college should have given you a second chance. Your parents dumped on you. The ranch is bleeding money no matter what you do. It’s enough to get to anybody.”
Will’s says, “I hate to break it to you Dr. KJ, but hating wolves doesn’t mean I’m crazy.”
“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you need help.”
“What kind of help? Someone to make my knee better? To do all my crappy chores? To get my parents off my back? Someone to get rid of all the people like you who make it impossible to make a living anymore? You got that kind of help, sign me up.”
Far away I hear
thunder. I look up and cold rain drops hit my face. I’ve already waited too long to get off the water.
His voice is livid. “What did you come out here for?”
“I want you to turn yourself in.”
He laughs, but he looks at me with something besides total dismissal.
“If you turn yourself in for arson and the parade you might be able to plea it down to a misdemeanor. You could get a fine or probation. But you wouldn’t have to hide this for the rest of your life.”
“Turn myself in? After what you’ve done to my family?” he says, swinging his arms. The empty beer cans on his seat clatter to the floor of the boat. He stammers, “What the hell are you talking about?”
Between Will and the weather I’m scared out of my skin but I can’t quit now. I’ve got to make this stick. I say, “Will, I’m talking about a second chance. That’s what I came here to tell you. Even though this sounds awful, coming clean is a second chance.”
“Jail time? That’s your idea of a second chance?”
Our boats rock together, hitting each other in the gray water. “If I turn you in it’s all different. You’ll do five years just for the fire. And a lot more if they try to prove you knew my dad was inside, or claim the store as a residence. If you add that to Virgil getting hurt and the potential for harm in the parade, you’re talking about most of your life. But if you turn yourself in, you might not go to jail at all.”
Will folds his arms across his chest like he’s getting ready to spring. “How do you know that? You go to law school in your spare time?”
“No, but my dad did.” I don’t have to tell Will this probably wouldn’t hold up in court. I’ve learned that from my dad, too. It’s better to be lucky than good.
He takes out his oar and rows on one side to keep us close. “You would spread these lies about me just to stop me from protecting my family? After my parents took you in and treated you better than they treat their own? After they let you live in their house and eat their food. After you let wolves kill their cattle? You want to send me to jail?”
“No.” I row backward.
He rows toward me. “Like you say, accidents happen.”
Before I can get my oars in the water twice, he’s next to me. All his sloppiness is gone. He swings up with one of his oars and connects with my shoulder. I jump back to get away and fall out of my boat.
The water is so cold I can barely breathe. My head is spinning and I swallow enough water to sink a Boston whaler. When I come up for air, Will’s driving away in a spray of water, his boat hitting full speed on the deep waves. The chug chug chug of his boat smacking the wake fills my ears as I drag myself into my boat.
The rain is turning to sleet. My sweatshirt and jeans aren’t exactly keeping me warm anymore. What I need is a sleeping bag with Virgil in it. I look in the utility box and find an emergency blanket. It’ll have to do.
I can still hear the chug chug chug of Will’s boat. I grab my oars and try to get my bearings. The clouds are low but I’m sure of it. He’s heading straight for those logs I saw coming in. Almost as quickly as I think this I hear a cracking sound and the chug chug chug stops.
“Will?” I shout, but I’m too far away.
It’s not that it doesn’t cross my mind to go in the opposite direction. That’s the smart thing to do. For all I know, he’s fine. But I wouldn’t have come out here in the first place if I gave a hang about doing the smart thing.
I dig in my oars but it turns out that it’s hard to row very fast in white caps when you’re freezing to death and you’ve just been knocked out of your boat with an oar. On the other hand, I’m motivated.
Within a few minutes I am in the logs. The sleet is turning to heavy snow and a cloud has settled on the water but I see the outline of Will’s boat. “Will,” I call.
Nothing.
“Will, answer me!”
“Here,” he calls.
I row to his voice and find him hanging on the far side of his boat with one arm. He looks like a Halloween decoration.
“What are you doing?” I say.
“I got tossed . . . over the front.”
He nods his chin to the chunk of propeller floating between us. I see the front of his boat is taking on water. I row to his side “Can you get in here?”
“Arm’s busted.” His face is pale and his mouth is bleeding.
“Use your other arm.”
He looks up at me like he’s not sure where my voice is coming from and then stares off into space. Maybe something besides his boat is cracked.
I lean out of the boat and put my arms underneath his. “On three.”
He doesn’t move.
“Stop trying to be a hero,” he says. “You hate me.”
“I don’t hate you. And you’re the hero, right? Let’s see what you got, Sure Shot.”
I pull at him but I’m at a bad angle. “Come on, Will!” I yell.
“Won’t work,” he says.
Holy smack, I’m sick of pessimistic men.
“Don’t be such a pansy, Will. Drop down in the water and spin around. Put your good hand on my boat and I’ll pull you in.”
“You’ll never be able to get us both back in this storm. You’re already blue.”
Part of me, the cold, scared, chicken part of me, hears what he’s saying. But I’m not taking orders from my inner chicken anymore. I reach over and pull hard at Will’s waist, ripping him from his boat and dropping him into the icy water between us.
Now he’s in the water there’s no more discussion. He reaches his good arm over the side of my boat, nearly tipping us. I lean out and grab the back of his pants. “On three.”
Will growls in pain. I yell. “One. Two. Three.”
Will pulls and I yank. It doesn’t work.
“Come on, Sure Shot. Let’s go.”
I lean out farther and count again. Will lets out another pain-filled grunt and together we yank him onto the lip of the boat. The boat starts to flip. I throw myself back to stabilize and feel myself falling backward. All the way backward.
My second trip into the water is paralyzing. I’m too mad to even swear at myself.
I swim and reach up for the rim of my boat but I’m spent. I hang for a second and try to pull myself in when I feel Will’s hand on mine. He doesn’t say anything, but his hand is steady. I pull up again. We rock badly but somehow with his help I roll into the boat.
Will falls back to the bench and slumps into a heap. I know the beer in Will’s system means he’s even worse off than I am. I find the emergency blanket and wrap it around both of us. His eyes are half open but he doesn’t look at me. “Will? Will, you got me in,” I say, hugging him. We’re both shaking.
He looks like a ghost. He says, “I didn’t mean for the store to catch on fire.”
“I know. Did you hit your head?”
I prop him between the life jackets and tuck the emergency blanket over him. Not first aid by the book, but there isn’t anything as important as getting us off the water.
I grab my oars. I tell myself I’m going to warm up once I get going. I try to lock my hands around the oars but they don’t bend right.
“I can do this,” I say through banging teeth.
Will doesn’t look up.
I want to climb under the blanket with him and go to sleep. I want my teeth to stop chattering out of my head. I want to stop shaking. I look around. All I can see is snow. I can’t just row anywhere. I have to find the dock, or someplace else that we can get into shelter fast. At least the wind has slowed down.
What if I can’t do this? I have never done anything this hard. I’ve failed at hard things all my life. We could die. It happens all the time up here. What if we die because I can’t do this?
I see my dad holding that horrid shirt, saying, “A pattern is only a pattern if you follow it.” Change the pattern.
I concentrate on the shape of the lake and where I need to go. I tell myself it’s like walking in my house at night
. The May snow falls in wet lumps from the sky. I close my eyes, lock my hands to the oars, and start rowing.
After about a minute the oars burn the cuts in my hands. I get out the first aid kit and try to wrap them. I’m too cold to pinch the tape.
The rest of me is stiffening, too. My arms and shoulders are locked up. My neck is a giant charley horse. I know what’s happening to me. I pull off my four-hundred-pound ice block sweatshirt. My skin is corpse color and I’m falling out of an old training bra that looks like two wet Kleenexes. It’s so like me to die in bad underwear.
I’m shaking so much it’s hard to stay on the bench. I grab the oars to steady myself and I start rowing. I concentrate on the movement of my arms and legs. The only sound is of my breathing, the oars slapping, and the water hitting the side of the boat.
After a few minutes more I look around. My breath is shortening. I’m shaking like I’m in an earthquake. I’m running out of time. I try to see anything that would tell me where I am but all I see is a cloud of snow. I’m lost. My hands are useless. I might as well be rowing with my elbows. I’ve never been in this much pain, not even close.
Will’s head is tipped forward and covered with snow.
“Will?” I say. “You hanging in there?”
No response.
I can’t do this.
I imagine my dad yelling, Stop rowing like a girl.
I yell to the snow, “I am a girl!” I give my hands a good shake and keep rowing.
I think about sitting around the campfire at Kenner’s place. Virgil’s next to me. Dennis is explaining that stars can be dead by the time we see them. Kenner’s making fun of Dennis to Addie. Sondra’s feeding a chipmunk her dinner. Everyone is warm.
I can’t remember how to make the oars work together. My arms are shaking too hard. The oar handles are red. Should’ve brought the gloves. Should’ve brought a whole lot more than gloves. I keep rowing.
I want to quit. I want to lie down. I want to disappear. I put my oars together. My eyes close.
I see my bedroom. I see Dad drinking an elk shake. I see Virgil smiling. Then I think I hear Virgil. “KJ!”
I open my eyes. I’m dreaming. Am I dreaming?
“KJ!”
He must be within a quarter mile. I call back, “Out here!”
Kristen Chandler Page 22