Botero's Beautiful Horses

by Jan Conn

  I’m thankful I have you to help me think everything through, Stacey said. It felt like keeping her private thoughts to herself but in a bigger room. As they both faded into sleep, Stacey realized she still needed to tell one other person about everything that had gone on. She mentioned her by name, but Amber had already fallen asleep and didn’t hear her.

  Martin had never fished in his life, and he met someone in town willing to teach him. He would do anything for the chance to skirt the arterial waterways that flowed between what he referred to as serious mountains. He used Sage’s fishing gear without asking, but Stacey didn’t care in the least. This left Aunt Sadie home alone a lot, sometimes for an entire day, unless Stacey was there, which wasn’t often. She always had something to do, like picking huckleberries, a good enough reason to be somewhere else.

  Hey, kiddo. Where you off to? Aunt Sadie asked.

  I’m going to meet friends downtown.

  Don’t go yet. We need to talk. Something’s going on, and I know your mother wouldn’t leave you to stew like this. I thought we could go somewhere. Just the two of us.

  Stacey hadn’t cried since the night she and Amber had gone through the diaries, and she thought she had finished with the emotional part of it all. But she was sobbing now, unable to control her breathing. More than anything, she wanted to run out of the house and up into the mountains to be by herself, but she knew better. She had to face reality, and this marked the beginning. After days of rehearsal, she had almost stopped thinking of Della and Sage as mom and dad. Almost. Now, standing in the kitchen in confrontation, she couldn’t think of the woman in front of her as anything but her Aunt Sadie. Stacey hadn’t revealed what she knew for the most pathetic of reasons: Aunt Sadie was all she had left from the life she used to have, and once Sadie learned the truth, that would end too.

  She gave her aunt the briefest of book reports, then went to her room and brought out the four volumes Della had written and pointed to the second volume as the one she should read first.

  You’re mentioned in three or four places, Stacey said, as she headed for the back door. She said you were nuts but a lot of fun to have for a sister. It could be way worse, you know. At least you had a sister for a while.

  The golf course rehired Amber for the summer, but Stacey, too confused to think about working anywhere, didn’t apply. Besides, her aunt would pay for everything. Stacey and Amber pretended they were writing a play about missing children and went to the library to ask questions. They kept a list of missing children, all of them Canadian, and two from B.C., but the list only went back two or three years. The librarian, a kind and helpful woman, wore her hair in a braid that funnelled all the way down her back. Stacey couldn’t keep from staring at the braid. She imagined pulling on it to lead its owner to someplace else in the library that would have all the answers.

  These children have all gone missing recently, Amber said. There must have been kids missing before this.

  Oh yes, there were plenty. Every year new ones disappear. If the child isn’t found in the first month, they often never are.

  What happens to the children that aren’t found? Stacey asked.

  Well, dear, I guess you have to use your imagination for the answer to that. It’s not the sort of thing most people want to talk about.

  Amber persisted. But if they were missing, even if they weren’t found, they must be on a list somewhere.

  I bet they are, the librarian said. I think you’d have to go to the police to find that out.

  With no one home at Amber’s house, they went there to chart out a plan. They would go to the police but not in Fernie. They would drive all the way to Hope and ask there. The police must have records that went back fifteen years, and if they asked questions there, no one would know them or know why they cared. Amber would take a few days off. As many as necessary. Stacey would borrow money from Aunt Sadie. She would get the oil changed and take the green car, which was her car now. It was a long way to drive, but they would take turns. Amber had her licence finally, and she had a cousin that lived in Midway, so they could stay one night there. Amber would tell her parents they wanted to visit Stacey’s relatives in Hope, and Stacey didn’t need to offer any explanation because no one would care. The librarian had said that, after a month or two, the chances of finding a child were slim, but even though fifteen years had melted away, it made sense not to let any more days or months or years go by. Maybe she had a brother or sister, older or younger it wouldn’t matter, and they would be getting older just like her. If she had a sibling, Stacey wanted it to be a boy. It would be even that way. One boy. One girl. Besides, it already felt like she had a sister named Amber.

  I think I might head downtown to play pool with some fishermen I met, Martin said as soon as they finished the dishes. No one said anything about the diaries, but Stacey understood Martin’s exit had been preplanned. I won’t be back until eleven he said, as if reading from a script.

  Molly knocked on the front door as soon as he left. She said she and Hart had a movie to watch and did anyone want to join them. Aunt Sadie said no so definitively that Molly left without bothering to argue.

  Stacey sat on the couch, her head leaning forward, staring at her hands, her lower lip between her teeth, trying not to show emotion. Aunt Sadie sat beside her and put a hand on her shoulder.

  I can’t believe it, she began. I don’t think anyone would believe it. All afternoon I’ve tried to imagine what you are going through, and I can’t. It’s horrific and disgusting, and no one deserves to go through something like this. I can sit here and tell you I’m sorry, but that’s a pissy thing to say. Of course, anyone would be sorry. And mad too. I can’t believe my own sister would do something like that.

  Aunt Sadie got up and paced back and forth in the living room. She didn’t know what else to do with herself, but she had the urge to smash something. She’d never understood unwarranted violence before, but she understood it now as she lifted a black vase from the bookshelf, one Della had taken a shine to before she passed. Sadie had bought it so Della would have something to feel good about. She held it in her hands for a long time. Stacey looked up and saw her holding the vase, and it was as if the two of them had a part in its journey to the floor and the hundreds of pieces that scattered across the room. What remained after was a silence that left no room for words, only feelings. Outside, Lucky barked, a sound filled with yearning, one that not even a loyal dog could fill.

  31

  Nothing in stacey’s experience had suggested that cars don’t always run when you want them to, and her naivety served her well on the two-day trip from Fernie to Hope. Late the day they arrived in the village of Midway, Amber’s cousin took them up into the hills, before the sun went down, to watch the turkey vultures soar over the windswept, oat-coloured fields. Amber and Archie talked about relatives they had in common, a conversation Stacey envied and endured.

  When they arrived in Hope, they stopped at the tourist information building to determine the cheapest motel in town. Neither of them had a credit card, so the owner insisted they pay up front and also pay a fifty dollar damage deposit on the room. Amber said they could do that, but Stacey insisted that they see the room first. She could hear her Aunt Sadie’s voice off in the distance confirming that her niece did indeed have high standards, but it had nothing to do with standards. Stacey wanted to make sure the room wasn’t already trashed so they would get their deposit back. When they returned to the motel office, Stacey had the owner itemize the following: one bureau handle loose and almost falling off, no rail in the small closet provided, a small red stain—probably nail polish—on the rug, and the hot and cold water handles to fill the sink were functional but reversed. Her list seemed to allay any concerns of the manager until Amber asked where they would find the local police station.

  Stacey wanted to walk around the busy town before they did anything, and even with people on every sidewalk, she found it easy to differentiate between tourists and l
ocals. The tourists wore startling colours and got out of their cars to stretch their legs and point at things, whereas the locals sauntered from one shady spot to another, often seated beneath large trees in the park. Two men played chess using a stump as a table. Some sat hunched in groups of two or three over coffee or water, wearing clothes that suggested the better part of their available wardrobe might be in the wash. The park in the centre of town held a grove of ancient trees, and Stacey recognized it as the park Della had described in her diary. She found an older man sitting by himself at a park bench.

  Is this where a big fair comes every August? she asked.

  No, the man said. She looked at him, and he kept staring straight ahead as if examining the past like he hadn’t for years.

  Did they ever have a fair down here?

  Used to, the man said. Stopped it a few years back. Bunch of crooks run those things. Nothing but chaos and dust.

  Stacey wondered what it would take to make a man like that smile. She couldn’t think of anything.

  I think we should find the police station, Amber said. While it’s still open.

  Police stations don’t close, Stacey said. They fight crime twenty-four hours a day.

  I know, but the people who might have files on missing children eat supper. I say we go now and get something to eat later.

  The police station was on the Old Hope Highway on the way out of town. They parked the car, and both sat deep in thought. Stacey thought that Della and Sage must have driven right past the police station on their way out of town. It wasn’t like the police station was hidden or anything.

  Better if we say we’re doing research on missing children, Amber said. The writing-a-play excuse was kind of lame. I brought a notepad and pen. We can take notes.

  This is harder than I thought it would be, Stacey said. I want to find stuff out, but I’m afraid at the same time.

  A woman sat in the shape of a C, curled over an electric typewriter behind a counter. She wasn’t wearing a uniform, and at first they thought she might be the only one there.

  Yes? May I help you?

  Hi. We would like to talk to a constable please. One who’s been around for a while, if possible.

  One who’s been around?

  Yes, that’s right. If there’s someone who worked here fifteen years ago, that would great. We’re doing research on children who’ve gone missing.

  Anyone in particular?

  No. Just children.

  Well, police officers move around. You know that. I’ll see if Constable Hereford has a minute. He’s been here for three years.

  When she went into the hallway, Amber said, You’ve got to say something. I’m doing all the talking.

  Constable Hereford came to the counter. He was tall and slender for a policeman, Stacey thought. He didn’t look mean or capable of handling rowdy or criminal types, but maybe he made up for his insufficient brawn by being smart and that’s why they’d hired him. Stacey introduced Amber and herself and explained that they were doing research on missing children for school. She said they were from Fernie and were on their way to Vancouver but thought it would be wise the check out the records of missing children in smaller towns too. She told Constable Hereford that they attended Kootenay College and that they hoped to interview as many people as possible about missing children.

  Constable Hereford towered over them at the counter, intimidating Stacey. He listened patiently and then appeared lost in thought. When Amber pulled a notebook and pen out of her purse, he told them to accompany him to his office.

  So, why your interest in missing children?

  Well, we both want to be social workers one day. It’s part of our study to choose an area of public concern, and we thought this would be a good one.

  Well, it’s an important one, that’s for sure. Last year we had 57,233 reported missing persons in Canada. Most people don’t know that. Sixty-five percent of these cases were solved within twenty-four hours. Children wandering off, that sort of thing. Eighty-seven percent found a solution within a week. Of course, that leaves many that haven’t been solved. Sometimes these cases remain open for years.

  Amber kept busy taking notes. Perfect, Stacey thought. If they could keep the man talking, eventually they could close in on what they wanted to know.

  Are some of these children missing at a young age? Stacey asked.

  People go missing at all ages. I’ve heard of cases as young as a week old. Some people go missing when they’re elderly. Almost half of those categorized as children go missing when they’re fourteen or fifteen. That’s another stat most people don’t know.

  Does it happen in the town of Hope? Amber asked.

  It happens everywhere. We had an eleven-year-old boy go missing about a year back. He was out fishing and fell off a ravine and hurt his leg. Fortunately his parents knew he’d gone fishing. He had to spend the night in the wilderness by himself, but we found him the next day.

  We want to do our fact finding as far back as 1970. Has anyone else gone missing in Hope since then?

  Constable Hereford heard the question and busied himself in a filing cabinet for a few minutes, then he left and said he’d be right back.

  Just as I thought, he said. Marjory, the lady you met at the counter, has been here for twenty-three years, and the only other case in Hope was the one I’d heard about. A four-year-old boy wandered off from his parents. A fisherman found his remains on the banks of the Fraser River a week later.

  What the fuck? Stacey said as soon as they left the police station. No one reported a missing child. What the fuck?

  I know, Amber said. It’s brutal. She watched Stacey warily. Stacey did not normally swear. But who wouldn’t? So what do we do now? Try a different city? We both need to eat something first.

  They ate a hamburger and a sundae at Dairy Queen and went back to their motel. Stacey said she needed time to think so she had a bath. Amber turned on the TV and watched the news. A child had gone missing in Elliot Lake, Ontario. The weather would be hot again tomorrow. Stacey got out of the bathtub so Amber shut off the TV.

  We didn’t find out much, did we? Stacey said.

  Well, I’ve been thinking about what we know. It’s true we didn’t come to Hope and find your parents wandering the streets with a sign saying they’d lost you, but we know a lot more about missing kids, that’s for sure. And we know that no children of any age went missing in Hope back when you were here. Not reported cases. Only two this whole time. So even if your parents, or whoever was looking after you, weren’t from here, like say you were from Vancouver but you went missing in Hope, that’s where the loss would be reported. But yours wasn’t reported. Nobody knew to look for you. The question is why.

  Amber liked to make lists. She got out her notepad and they threw ideas back and forth.

  Something horrendous happened to her parents.

  She didn’t have parents—she was a ward of the state, and the loss was covered up.

  It was grandparents looking after her, and they were really old and forgetful, and they forgot they owned her.

  It was a single mom looking after her, and she couldn’t take it anymore, and when Stacey went missing, she never reported it, just moved on and changed her identity.

  The dad wanted a boy, but Stacey was a girl, and he was not mentally stable and killed the wife that gave him a girl instead of a boy, and then he killed himself.

  It was an aunt looking after her at the fair, but she had a brain aneu-rysm and collapsed somewhere and left Stacey as easy prey.

  Someone who didn’t want kids came with her to Hope, then dropped her

  off in the park, and that’s why she wasn’t reported missing.

  Stacey belonged to someone who worked at the fair, and by the time her absence was noticed, they had moved on to another town.

  You know what all this means, don’t you? Stacey said. She felt herself getting emotional, and she stopped and forced herself to take a deep breath. It means whoev
er owned me a long time ago didn’t care enough to find me. If you come from something like that, what chance do you have? Now there’s no one.

  No, Amber said, hearing her friend say what might be the truth. She tried to come up with an argument to challenge what had been said, but she couldn’t think of one. She thought of mentioning that Stacey still had Sage but thought better of it.

  We need to get out of here. We’ve been sitting for two days. Let’s go for a walk.

  Stacey agreed. Part of her wanted to sit and wallow in self-loathing, but it would be better to go somewhere and do something. She almost felt itchy.

  Just before dark, they made it down to the river, so powerful that Stacey couldn’t help but think of the little boy the constable had mentioned. Anyone who fell into that river would be on their way to Vancouver, like it or not. Had one of her parents fallen in the river that day? Did the other try to help and fall in too? But if so, why was she found in the park, and not here? They heard someone singing behind them and looked around to see two boys with a sport bag in hand walking the same way at the side of the road. It didn’t take long for them to catch up.

  Hi, one boy said. Just the word hi. Nothing else.

  Hi, Amber said.

  We’re heading down to the river for a beer. Care to join us?

  Amber looked about to say they were just out for a walk and had to get back, but Stacey beat her to it and said they had nothing better to do, so the four of them walked another two or three minutes until they came to a path that led down to the riverside.

  Is it safe here? Amber asked.

  Absolutely safe, one boy said. Then he introduced himself as Mike and said his friend’s name was Wayne. Mike and Wayne in the town of Hope. A chance to meet the locals.

  Nobody ever comes down here, Mike said. Just us. Come on, we’ll show you.

  They sat against the riverbank and drank their beer. They were nice enough, Stacey decided. Soon the surfaces of their lives had been traded, then Mike and Wayne explained, while they had grown up in Hope, they didn’t plan on living there forever. Stacey asked them what was wrong with Hope, and Mike said he guessed there was nothing wrong with Hope, but when you’d lived in Hope as long as he had, you know it’s time to move on. Both had taken a prospector’s course, and they had all their gear and would soon be up in the mountains seeking their fortune. Gold and silver and copper all ran throughout the mountains, and they only needed to find it before anyone else did. Stacey talked to Mike mostly, and after they were on their third beer, he said there was a really cool spot just around the corner. Did she want to see it? She did. It was hard to see where they were going so Mike held her hand as they made their way along the river’s edge. When they got to the appointed spot, it wasn’t much different from where they had started, so far as Stacey could tell, but Mike said if you sit down between the logs and focus on the river some nights, you’ll see the canoe races pass right before your eyes.