by Sonia Tilson
For the first time, Neil thought about what Sasha’s life must have been like. Years of fear and shame and secrets. He wondered if she had always known that she was a woman. He wished that she was here, so he could ask her.
He turned to look at the trail he’d just made. He seemed to have come quite a long way, considering. He must be at least halfway to the cabin. He couldn’t give up now. Shaking with cold, he got back on his hands and knees. He gritted his teeth against the pain and set off once more.
Ten agonizing minutes later, he took stock again: Dragging himself uphill over the icy roots and stones was getting impossible. His jeans had long ago given way at his already bleeding knees, and his hands in their beat-up gloves were raw and freezing. He could feel himself getting weaker and disoriented. He even believed at one point that the fallen tree-trunk was still ahead of him, when he had already got himself over it.
He longed to just lie down and sleep, even more than last time, but he remembered Sasha’s story and forced himself to keep going, a little bit at a time, and managed to cover several metres more.
He must be close to the cabin now, he thought. He should try another shout. He raised himself up on his knees, threw back his head, and put all his remaining strength into his cry: “Help! Cheryl! Luc! Help me!”
Chapter 18
Neil was in a big soft armchair beside an old wood stove, its doors open to show a glowing fire. He was propped up by pillows, a patchwork quilt tucked around him. His foot and ankle, freed of the boot and wrapped in an ice-cold towel, rested on a cushioned stool.
“We were already out looking for you,” Cheryl said. She knelt beside his chair with Luc standing behind her. “We were looking for someone, anyways, because we didn’t know it was you then, did we?” She looked up at Luc, who shook his head. “We’d heard the gunshot but didn’t think nothing of it, because it happens a lot these days. But Keeper here,” she pointed to the little dog toasting himself in front of the stove, “he kept listening and whining, and clawing at the door like he heard something, so in the end we let him out, and he took off like a bullet and then came running back barking and looking back downhill. So we knew something was up. Right, Luc?”
Luc nodded and leaned down to stroke Keeper’s ears.
“Then we seen the hoofprints going down the hill,” Cheryl said, “and Keeper was still racing up and down barking, so we set off after him, and then my cellphone rang and it was Ken, saying he’d just got home to find Dude in the stable all tacked up and still in a lather. He reckoned you must have taken him out and had a fall but he couldn’t find you nowheres, so I was to come and help him look. So then I reckoned the hoofprints had to be Dude’s.”
She took a big breath and stood up. “By then Keeper was barking like crazy further down the hill, so we ran to see, and there you were!”
She glared at him, fists on hips. “You were lucky, Neil. You should just be happy this didn’t happen in winter! What were you thinking of anyways, going off on Dude by yourself?”
Luc shook his head at Cheryl, a finger to his lips, before leading her away to sit at the table.
Neil looked dopily around. The room was like a dream, a real old-style cabin, its wide logs chinked with plaster, a rough plank floor, small high windows with red gingham curtains, and a door that looked solid enough to resist a bear. His mom would love this, he thought, the way the oil lamp threw a warm golden light on the rough pine table, two wooden chairs, and a small hutch.
The Classic Car calendar on the wall beside the window was the one from the convenience store, same as the one Ken had in the barn. Wooden shelves ran along the walls, the ones beside the loaded hutch crowded with cans and cartons and jars of food. A saucepan and a blackened frying pan sat on the shelf beside the stove, with ladles hanging from hooks underneath. The shelf over the bed was piled up with books and magazines, along with a transistor radio. Neil painfully turned his head and saw a wooden four-poster bed filling about a quarter of the room.
A mouth-watering smell came from a pot on the stove, mixed with that of wet wool from his clothes drying on a rack nearby, and of wet dog from Keeper.
His ankle hurt brutally and he was aching all over, especially his shoulder and head, but he was not going to die. He would have to face Ken, but he was alive and warm and safe—and so, he gathered, thanking his lucky stars, was Dude. Better still, in spite of the pain, Neil actually felt strangely happy, as if a tight painful knot had been loosened in his chest.
Cheryl made him follow her finger with his eyes for some reason, and answer questions, like what was his name, and where did he live, and so on. “Here,” she said when she was finished, “take this Tylenol. It’ll help with the pain.” From the tall enamel jug by the door, she poured water into a cup which she handed to him with the tablet.
“Here’s the thing, see, Neil,” she said. “Nick from the store’s gonna come up here in his Jeep to get you down to the main road, where Ken will be waiting with the truck to take you to the hospital.”
He swallowed the pill. “But how can Nick get up here?”
Cheryl and Luc exchanged a grin. “No problem, kiddo!” she said. “We’re real close to the old logging road. It’s just a bit further up and over that way. If you’d stayed on the trail, you’d have hit it in no time. Anyways, in a while, me and Luc’s gonna get you up to the old road to meet Nick.”
She took a small enamel saucepan off the stove to pour something creamy into a thick blue mug. “Here. Drink this chicken noodle soup. It’ll make you feel a whole lot better. And then I’ll phone the guys and we’ll get you dressed, ready to go.”
The soup was the most delicious thing Neil had ever tasted. He felt stronger with every mouthful. If it hadn’t been for that stupid hunter, he thought as he slurped it down, or if he’d only known about the logging road, he could have gotten away with the whole thing. Nothing ever worked out the way he thought it would. He gulped down the salty, slippery noodles before resigning himself to the agony of getting dressed and being carried off to meet Ken.
At the junction, Luc, who was surprisingly strong, practically lifted Neil into the Jeep. He gently settled him into the passenger’s seat and looked into his eyes before closing the door. “Bon chance,” he said. “Good luck.”
***
“Thank God it’s only six o’clock,” Ken said grimly as they sat in the rapidly filling Emergency waiting room. “It’s bad enough as it is, but it always gets real busy on Saturday night.”
Neil slumped on a hard chair, still in serious pain and surrounded by coughs and groans and muttered curses. He stared miserably at the dirty floor. Ken was really mad at him. He’d hardly said a word all the way to the hospital and had not been gentle in getting him out of the truck and into the waiting room.
“Sorry, Ken,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t have taken Dude out.”
“You’re darn right you shouldn’t have,” Ken almost shouted.
The skinny woman next to them looked up in fright from her sleeping baby.
“You could’ve ruined my best horse!” Ken said. “He was all lathered up and still pretty spooked when I found him in the barn. I’ll probably have to get the vet to check his lungs.” He turned his back on Neil, saying over his shoulder, “Fine thanks I get, eh?”
Neil slumped further. The baby set up an ear-splitting wail, yanked the soother out of its mouth, and flung it into the middle of the room. An old man coughed, non-stop, while a hairy guy in the far corner talked loudly to himself, swearing and gesticulating.
Neil heard his name called and stood up to hobble gratefully away on the crutches brought by the nurse.
The X-ray technician was so kind and gentle she made him want to cry. “Doesn’t look too bad,” she said. “It’s very good that the swelling was kept down.” She helped him into a wheelchair to be taken to the doctor.
After an awkwardly silent few minutes
with Ken, the doctor arrived to study the X-ray.
“It’s a good clean break,” he said, “More of a fracture really, since nothing’s out of place. See?” The doctor pointed to the thin line across the bottom of the bigger leg bone in the transparency up on the wall. “We’ll soon get you fixed up.” He looked at Neil. “How did this happen, anyway?”
“Fell off a horse,” Neil mumbled under Ken’s icy stare.
The orderly wheeled him down a long corridor to a room where a small, amazingly freckled man with the reddest hair Neil had ever seen set about putting his throbbing ankle in a cast, first putting it in a sort of sock, and then wrapping it in heavy bandages soaked in ice-cold Plaster of Paris.
“It should dry in about twenty minutes,” the man said. “Be very careful for the first couple of days and whatever you do, don’t get it wet. No showers, right?”
An hour later, painkillers in his pocket, Neil sat miserably beside Ken as the truck bumped its way back to the stable.
“Can’t very well stay here with a broken ankle, can you?” Ken said finally. “And anyway, she wants you back right away. Sasha, that is. She’s flying here to get you as soon as she gets the doc’s clearance. Should only be a few days.” He looked sternly ahead. “I think it’s for the best.”
Chapter 19
Three days later, as Neil stood by the front window waiting for his mom to arrive, he saw his grandfather hobble up to his truck, keys in hand. Was he going somewhere? With Sasha arriving any minute? The guy was unbelievable.
Neil threw open the front door, managed the steps with difficulty, and swung along on his crutches to confront Ken. “Where are you going? Aren’t you even going to say hello to my mom?” he asked furiously. And goodbye to me, he felt like adding.
“I’ve got important business in town,” Ken said, jangling the keys. “And I’m gonna be late. Sorry. Gotta rush.”
“But my mom’s going to be here any minute, Ken. She phoned to say she’s on her way from the airport. Couldn’t you call and say you’ll be a bit late? I mean this is important.” He could feel the sweat forming on his forehead and upper lip.
“Not my scene,” said Ken, opening the truck door. He gave Neil a quick pat on the arm. “Goodbye, buddy. Take care.” Then he got in, slammed the door, and was gone, rattling off down the drive. Neil glared after him as the truck turned onto the road and drove off.
A few moments later, he saw his mom finally drive up slowly in a small rental car and pull in behind the clump of cedars by the gate. She stayed there, half hidden, for at least ten minutes. She must be bracing herself to meet her rotten father again, he thought, and also to have to face an angry son. She wouldn’t be meeting Ken, and she wouldn’t have to meet an angry son either, but she didn’t know that yet.
There was still no sign of movement from the car.
Neil felt so mad at Ken that if it hadn’t been for the crutches, he would have kicked or punched something. His mom was a good person. She didn’t deserve to be treated like that, like she didn’t matter.
Finally, the car moved. His mom looked so thin and pale and anxious as she closed the gate, he wished he was in good enough shape to at least do that for her. It was awfully soon after her accident. When the car pulled up in front of the bungalow, he flung open the front door and hopped through on his crutches, preparing to attempt the steps.
“Wait, Neil! I’m coming!” She jumped out of the car and hurried up the steps, holding out her arms to stop him before he could begin the risky manoeuvre. He saw how her hair was growing back in what looked like a soft, dense crewcut.
“Hi, Mom.” Neil stood awkwardly on his crutches while she hugged him. He could feel how soft and smooth the skin of her cheek was, and could smell her familiar perfume.
She stood back to look him over and pulled a sympathetic face at the sight of the cast. “Oh, Neil! Poor you!” she said, and then laughed. “But how could you have grown so much in less than two weeks? You look different already!”
He grinned and hopped around to point a crutch at Cheryl, lurking behind him in the doorway. “Mom, this is Cheryl. Cheryl, this is my mom, Sasha.”
“Pleased to meet you.” He saw Cheryl’s eyes slide over his mom’s face to settle on some distant point. “Come in and make yourself at home,” she said, waving a hand towards the sofa under the window. “I’ll go make us some coffee.”
“Are you okay to drive so soon, Mom?” Neil asked as they sat waiting for Cheryl to return. “Couldn’t Margaret have come with you?”
“I wanted to have this quiet time alone with you,” she said. “It’s a quick drive from the airport to here, and the doctor said it should be okay if I take it easy. My headaches are gone and I’ve been driving around for a few days now. The main thing is to get you back on your two feet, right?” She gave him a small smile.
“I like your hair,” Neil said, examining the startling white flash. “That white bit is cool!”
She cautiously touched the patch at the V of her hairline.
“Sorry!” He felt himself blush. “That’s from the accident, isn’t it, from when you hurt your head.” He bent to scratch his shin just above the plaster cast. “What was it like, the accident? Do you remember how it happened?” He looked up. “Can you tell me about it?”
She smoothed her skirt.” I didn’t remember anything for a few days, Neil, but then it all came back to me.” She thought for a bit. “I remember it was dark and very windy,” she said, “and raining hard. The streets were shining wet under the streetlights, and I could see people bent over, struggling with their umbrellas in the wind.” She shook her head and took a big breath.
“Anyway, I raced down Laurier, hoping to make the left turn onto Elgin before the lights changed, and to shake off the tailgater who was half-blinding me, and I’d just got around on the orange, when an umbrella slammed into my windshield!” She squeezed her eyes tight shut at the memory. “Of course I couldn’t see a thing, and I thought I’d hit someone, so I stood on the brakes.”
Opening her eyes wide, she went on, “And that’s all I remember. I gather the tailgater smashed into me at about the same time as another car crashed into me from the side.” She pulled a face. “I didn’t have my seat belt on, so my head hit something.” She felt at the scar on her head. “My knees were pretty banged up too, but no bones were broken, except for the crack in my skull.”
“You didn’t have your seat belt on, Mom? You used to freak out if I didn’t do mine up, even if we were still in the garage.”
“No. Well, I didn’t even think about it. I was so desperate to find you I just drove—the way we all used to when I was young.”
She looked hard at him. “You know, I ran after you, Neil, when you dashed off, but you were already out of sight…so I drove to your school, thinking you might have caught the bus and gone back there. Anyway, a boy there told me to try the Rideau Mall, so I drove there and went to the food court, knowing you’d be hungry. A man there with a little boy thought he’d seen you. He said you left with a girl.” She leaned back and closed her eyes.
“So anyway,” she sat up and went on, “I drove around some more, to look for you, and then I went home in case you were there, but of course you weren’t.” She shook her head. “I kind of lost it after that and drove frantically around, and that’s when I had the crash.”
“So I guess you only just missed us, Mom.” He frowned. “It’s weird, isn’t it, to think what a difference those couple of minutes made? None of this would have happened if Courtenay and me had still been at the food court when you got there.” He rubbed a shiny patch on the arm of the couch. “I wouldn’t have caused your accident.”
She sat up quickly. “No, Neil! None of this was your fault. I was the one to blame.” She wrung her hands. “I did everything wrong. I was planning to tell you the whole story that night, but it all went horribly wrong.” She gave him a qui
ck, almost shy look. “I just wish you knew how much you mean to me, Neil, despite all that.”
He looked away. “I think I do, Mom,” he said, “and I even think I understand why you felt you couldn’t tell me the truth from the start, but still…” his voice trailed off as he looked back at her.
Neil’s mother stared at him as if she wasn’t sure she recognized him, and opened her mouth to say something when a thump at the door made her look around, her hand flying to her chest.
Neil stumped over to open the door for Keeper and saw his mother slump back, deflated. He felt more disgusted than ever at Ken as he watched her try to cover her disappointment by petting the dog.
“What a cutie! Is this the dog that rescued you?” She looked up from Keeper, who was twirling with excitement.
“Yup. This is Keeper. He’s the biggest little dog you’re ever going to see.” Neil watched happily as she played with the dog while they waited for the coffee.
Cheryl kept her eyes on the loaded tray as she carried it over and set it down on the wooden toolbox that did for a coffee table. “Ken says to tell you he’s sorry he couldn’t be here to meet you,” she said, fussing with the mugs, “but he has an appointment in town this morning.”
After a pause, Sasha shrugged and managed a small, twisted smile. She watched Cheryl fill three large mugs with coffee. “So, you drink coffee now, Neil?” she said. “I guess you’re not a little kid anymore.” As his mom took the mug, Neil saw Cheryl’s eyes fix on her long, dark-red nails before shifting to her face and then flicking away to the window.
“We’re sure gonna miss young Neil,” Cheryl said, her eyes now on the dented metal coffee pot. “He’s a fast learner and a real good worker. You should see this guy on a horse! I’ve never known anyone who picked it up so quick!” She frowned and put her mug down. “Of course he brought all this on himself,” she gestured at the crutches, “so it’s a good thing he’s going home.” She looked at Neil briefly before returning to her coffee. “We were starting to forget that he’s still just a kid.”