by Patrick Lee
She likened this change in the evergreen to a change in herself. Hannah planned to shed her needles of worn out grief and take on different hues of happiness. With Mikhail, she hoped to cushion her heart from the pain of loneliness and find protection from future winters. She’d do this with class and knew that Mikhail required mental patience, physical guidance, and verbal instructions from her. Hannah grinned slightly and had long ago concluded that if characters in her romance novels and those from her theater’s silver screen could find pure, unadulterated pleasure in the body of the opposite sex, so could she. She promised herself to not let history repeat itself in this department. Hannah quit looking out the window and faced Mikhail as best she could while sitting side by side.
“Hey, Mikhail Anzich. What’s goin’ on in that genius mind of yours? For your sake, I hope it’s nothin’ to do with pulleys, cement, or big buckets that have no business being suspended hundreds of feet above the earth.”
“No.”
“Do your thoughts have anything to do with your crews, emergencies, and whether the proper people are on shift to handle them?”
“No.”
“Okay, Mr. Open Book, what are you thinkin’ about?” quipped Hannah.
“Shoes and socks.”
“What?” Hannah questioned a bit too loudly.
“I wondered if your shoes were gray like your skirt or pink like your sweater. I think I gotta buy socks when we get to Whitefish.” “And shorts,” he silently said to himself.
“We’re finally going away to be alone and learn more about each other and you’re thinkin’ about my shoes and your own under clothing. You know, Mikhail, you just might be the most romantic man I know,” joked Hannah.
Mikhail sort of liked the shoes and socks routine. Two could play at her very fun and stimulating games. He thought maybe he was one up but then Hannah removed the cardigan sweater from the twin set to reveal toned, tanned, and soft looking arms. Her Lion Lake fishing trips and physically encouraging, unsavory patrons from her theater left their mark leaving her upper torso muscular in a feminine sort of way. She tucked in the matching, pale pink sleeveless camisole showing her waist, the waist Mikhail craved to put his hands on.
The Great Northern Streamliner continued on course to Whitefish. The sound of the engine and the clikety-clack of movement across the tracks put many passengers to sleep. Once again, Mikhail and Hannah seemed lost in their own thoughts, but the tension between them was apparent and exciting. As the train whistle sounded three times near the Christmas tree farm that Hannah recognized, she knew they would soon be coming into town. As if willed by her thoughts, she felt the train lose speed and she glanced over at Mikhail. They smiled simultaneously and instinctually reached for each other’s hand. His hand nearly swallowed hers, but he gently gave it a squeeze. She immediately felt safe and cared for. The train came to a slow and calculated, brakes screeching halt. Mikhail reached for Hannah’s satchel, glad to be useful, and gestured that he would follow her to the exit. At the exit, he asked her to wait while he went down the stairs first. At the bottom, he turned and reached up to offer his hand to guide her safe descent.
As she took the second step, he boldly stated, “Pink suits you.”
“Funny you should say that. That’s kind of what my mother said when she loaned me her favorite cashmere sweater duo.”
“Kind of, what’s that mean?”.
“Well, ya,” answered Hannah. “Actually my mother told me that it was the color that made my dad’s heart flutter and his putter stutter.”
“Hannah, you make me nervous like I’ve never known before. That there smile of yours most likely melts glaciers in Glacier Park.”
Mikhail’s soft voice and utter vulnerability gave Hannah pause. Right then and there, she knew she didn’t make a mistake. This would be the night of all nights for her. She’d let up on him, but only some.
“Mikhail, let’s check in and take a walk. It’s too early to eat.” “Okay.”
Hannah and Mikhail casually made their way the few blocks to the Cadillac Hotel and Restaurant. It was easy to look down Whitefish’s main street and see that this was a quaint western town with a history to tell. The Cadillac stood out from the other buildings because it had multiple floors unlike the other weathered storefronts that lined the pot-holed street.
Initially, people called Whitefish by the name of Stumptown. Before the arrival of the railroad and people, the area around Whitefish was heavily wooded. To make room for a town site, a huge number of trees had to be cut down, all of which left stumps behind. These stumps created problems almost immediately in the form of creating traffic problems and making it a pain for new additional construction as all of the stumps had to be removed.
The name of Stumptown didn’t stick. The first buildings were all built around the railroad. The railroad became one of the towns’ biggest employers. Once the railroad came, Whitefish grew quickly. The influx of railroad workers, loggers, and trappers combined to give Whitefish a solid foundation that was unlike the boom and bust mining towns that died off once the gold ran out.
Mikhail and Hannah entered the main doors of the Cadillac and shyly made their way to the check-in desk.
The desk clerk greeted them with a big smile as they approached, “Good afternoon, folks. Beautiful day, isn’t it? Need to appreciate days like these; snow could come anytime now. May I help you?”
Mikhail swallowed hard hearing the word, folks. Did they already look like a couple to everybody else?
“Yes,” answered Hannah in an uncharacteristically timid voice. “We have a reservation for tonight and just wanted to check in and drop off this satchel.”
“What’s the name on the reservation?” The clerk sensed a bit of uneasiness with his current customers and then asked Hannah, “Do I know you?”
“Mikhail Anzich,” stated Hannah more boldly while deliberately ignoring the clerk’s question. Her volunteer work in Hungry Horse often made her face more recognizable than her name. She generally didn’t enjoy this.
It pleased Mikhail that she had made the reservation in his name. It seemed more appropriate even though he felt pretty certain that his mother wouldn’t be proud of this rendezvous that he found himself as an actor. To become part of the conversation and not just a giant fixture, Mikhail inquired if they needed dinner reservations for tonight. The friendly clerk indicated that he thought that would be a good idea, and he would oblige as soon as he finished up with the paper work.
“Check out is at 11:00 AM. Did you want to pay now or then? We prefer now so no one skips out on us, but you two look as honest as the day is long so it’s up to you.” The clerk chuckled a little sensing that Mikhail and Hannah weren’t legally bound by a wedding license. The hotel owner already warned him to keep his jokes and jabs to himself, so he left it at that.
“I’ll pay now,” answered Mikhail with a firm tone. “Now about those dinner reservations. We’re celebratin’ a special event. We’d like a table for two in a quiet section of the dinin’ room. Can ya do that?”
“Oh, yes sir! I’ll let the hostess know right away. Would you like to look at a menu?”
“Not really,” they answered in unison.
“We’d like the table ready at 6:00 PM,” ordered Mikhail.
“However,” added Hannah, “We’d like to store our satchel behind your counter while we stretch our legs in your fair town. The train ride is short, but we’d love to take a walk. The key, please.”
The clerk quickly handed over the key and gestured to the staircase leading up to the rooms. Now, that’s a staircase to appreciate thought Mikhail. I will definitely let her walk up first! They exited through the heavy, dark, oak doors and headed south into town. The laughter exploded from them as they reviewed their encounter with the clerk who demonstrated such haughty self-importance.
“And,” voiced Hannah, “what is the special event we are celebratin’?”
“It’s my mother’s birthday in a couple of w
eeks, Hannah. She’d like it that I celebrated early with you!”
“She must be a lot more easy goin’ than you, Mikhail Anzich. I’ll be sure and let her know what a great time we had.”
It pleased Mikhail that Hannah used the words, great time. Little by little, he relaxed and knew that Hannah showed kindness as they both maneuvered through this rather awkward interlude in their private get-away.
They casually walked down the rest of Main Street. Mikhail stopped outside of the barbershop and straddled the penny horse ride outside of the front door. Hannah slipped in a penny and laughed as the horse rocked back and forth under Mikhail. His legs cleared the machine as he mocked the action of a rodeo rider. They agreed that more than one parent bribed their young son with a ride on the horse after he braved the first haircut activity.
The outing did both of them good. With the fresh early evening air and a fine walk, each felt a renewed calm and self-assurance for the evening ahead. The clerk helped another customer as they returned from window-shopping and the numerous informal encounters they ran into with the well-meaning townspeople. Mikhail’s size generally drew attention and strangers naturally looked at him. Mikhail knew exactly how to be genuinely friendly while communicating the message that he didn’t want to share his life’s story. Hannah took the opportunity to observe a new side of him. She liked this side a lot.
Hannah watched as Mikhail assertively reached behind the hotel counter and hefted her satchel like it weighed nothing at all. She pulled the key from her purse while Mikhail gestured that he would follow her up the stairs. Mikhail began to eagerly realize that she didn’t intimidate him as she slowly ascended the stairs. Hannah didn’t know how much he savored the naturally feminine sway from right to left. He enjoyed that there were so many stairs to the second floor where they would find the room waiting.
At the top, Hannah glanced back and caught Mikhail with his eyes rather low on her body. She then deliberately looked forward and noted the brass plaque showing that room numbers two through eight were down the hall to the right. She held the key to room number six and headed in the correct direction. Boldly she inserted the key into the ornate lock and entered first. She opened the door wider, and Mikhail followed. The rather little bed loomed before them with a nightstand and lamp on one side and an oak rocker opposite. Near the window that faced the main street, she noticed a sitting area with a round three-legged table and two straight back chairs. The bedspread, window curtains, wallpaper, and any other available surface were covered in various flowered prints of pastel hues.
“Glad you didn’t give me flowers to celebrate our special event,” stated Hannah in her deadpan voice. “I think we have plenty.”
In an uncharacteristic move, Mikhail slowly made his way across the room to stand directly in front of her. He gently laid his hands on her waist and pulled her towards him. Mikhail lowered his face. Hannah looked up and raised herself on tiptoes. Their eyes locked briefly and then closed as mouths met with a long and passionate kiss. The easy and natural meeting of their bodies that were so different in stature surprised them. He felt her soft breasts through her sweater and she noted an emerging hardness through his jeans. They remained embraced for several minutes after the kiss ended.
“Let’s eat. I’m starved.” Those were the first words out of Mikhail’s mouth after the kiss. “I can’t make proper love to you on an empty stomach.”
It slightly disappointed Hannah that the kiss didn’t lead to more, but she quieted her feelings knowing that the whole night was ahead of them. Besides, she could use a bite to eat as well, and the restaurant had such a great local reputation.
“Great. Let me freshen up some. I’ll just be a minute.” Hannah went to the water closet that was part of the room. She congratulated herself on selecting the reservations based on not having to use a community facility down the hall. She came out smiling from ear to ear, grabbed Mikhail by the arm, and pulled him towards the door.
“We walk down the stairs together, Mikhail Anzich. No ogling my bum on the way down!”
The afternoon light roared through her dining room window. With less than a week left of September, signs of the coming sunlight changes warmed the window plants she cherished. Betty Hansen intently listened to the telephone conversation with her husband. She jumped as the knock on her door resonated off the hardwood floor in her living room. “I got to go, there’s someone at the door.”
The voice on the other end finished his message abruptly, “Well, that’s it then. You can draw money from that account as needed. My lawyer will mail you the divorce papers next week.
Goodbye, Betty. Good luck to you.”
She gently set the phone receiver back on the wall hook. His unexpected words lingered in the air as she shook her head. Another loud knock on her front door broke the stunned stare at the telephone. Betty Hansen walked to the front door. Still dazed, she opened the door and greeted the three men standing in her doorway. Her eyes moved up and down the men wearing the pressed suits in front of her. “Yes, may I help you?”
He looked her straight in the eyes, “We are FBI agents. My name is Ted Hughes and these are Agents Moore and Taylor. We have an arrest warrant for your husband, R.J. Hansen. We also have a search warrant for your house. Is your husband here?”
Betty Hansen backed into her living room and sat down on the flower-patterned couch. “He isn’t here right now. What’s going on?” She reeled from the phone message her husband just delivered, and now the FBI stood in her living room. “I don’t understand, what—”
Moore and Taylor strolled by her while Hughes spoke, “Where is your husband, Mrs. Hansen?”
She fidgeted with her fingers near her mouth, “He’s gone.” “Apparently so. But where is he?”
Tears burst from her eyes as she struggled to answer, “Can’t you tell me what’s going on?”
The other agents opened desk drawers, cabinets, and looked under beds and in the closets. Agent Hughes moved and stood directly in front of her. “Mrs. Hansen, I can’t tell you what’s going on. Now where is he?”
She lowered her cupped hands from her mouth, “I, I just hung up the phone. He told me he filed for divorce. He’s driving somewhere. He said goodbye and good luck.”
Hughes determined he needed to turn up the heat. “If you shield him, or lie to us, we will arrest you. One last chance. Where is your husband?”
Betty Hansen stood up and raised her voice, “I don’t know where he is! I’m in shock that he left. He went to work as usual this morning, and then—”
“We went to his office at the contractors. He never showed for work today. His assistant said he stayed home with a cold.”
Moore joined them in the living room, “Nothing in the bedroom or kitchen, Ted. I’ll check with Taylor.”
She sat back down and wiped her nose with a used Kleenex, “I think I’m entitled to know what kind of trouble he’s in.”
He unbuttoned his suit jacket, “No. No you’re not.” He wrote down his name and the phone number at the Glacier Inn. “When you hear from him, call this number and ask for me. If you interfere in any way, you will be arrested.”
His partners returned from searching the other rooms. “Nothing as far as records here. Let’s go back to his business office at the contractors.”
She watched the three men through the corner of her lace curtain. After they drove away from her curb, she picked up the phone and called Sheriff Patrick Schustrom.
Agent Taylor drove Hughes back to the Glacier Inn Motel to check in on David Sednick. In the meantime, the other two agents planned to search Hansen’s accounting files in his office. Taylor slowly pulled the blue Ford away from the motel parking lot but stopped suddenly as Hughes rushed out of their motel room and waved his arms. He ran to the back seat door and climbed in, “Sednick’s gone! He took his bag with him and his truck isn’t out in back where he parked it. That idiot! How the hell we suppose’ to protect him? Now what do we do?”
Taylor spun the tires and shot gravel into the motel shrubs, “We go find him is what we do. I’ll bet you he’s headed for a bar back up the canyon. He isn’t the smartest guy in the world. We’ll find his truck.”
In Columbia Falls, David Sednick sat in the Stockman Bar and enjoyed the Jim Beam glow that he missed over the past few days. He flicked the long ash from his Pall Mall into the glass ashtray. He squinted as the smoke rolled past his eyes. From her barstool, the older blond lady used her eyes to flirt with him as her husband and his friend racked the pool balls for another game. Sednick flashed his patented barroom smile and seductively sipped his highball. Over the years he perfected the knack of seeing the eyes of husbands and communicating with the wives or girlfriends at the same time. She pushed her chair from the table and signaled to her husband she needed to pee. He ignored her and fired the cue ball into the tightly racked pool balls. On her way by Sednick, she lifted her eyebrows and tilted her head in the direction of the restrooms. David put out his cigarette, took a look at the pool players, and nonchalantly walked back to the restrooms.
Roy Devers sat in his car and took in the view of the alley behind the Stockman Bar. He watched the backdoor and David’s black pickup. He praised Sednick for leaving the safety of the motel and the protection of the cops. This uncomplicated things. Now all he had to do was wait for dark and the perfect time to get his work done. Only a few hours now remained. Then on to Spokane and his final meeting with Slick Hansen.
The bright light in the hallway by the women’s restroom became unkind to the blond lady. Her age and hard lifestyle gave away her true looks. She combed her hair with her long fingernails as David approached her. After a good look behind him, she sidled up to him and pressed her sagging chest against him. “I can meet back here at ten thirty when he goes to work. What do you say?”