by Pam Withers
Elspeth takes Brigit’s hands in hers. “Don’t you worry about a thing. He likes to put on a little act when you’re leaving, but he’s good as gold the rest of the time.”
“Golden boy,” Dominik teases Dean. “Behave, ’cause we’re off. I promise to tell you all about it when we get back. And if Elspeth says you’ve been an upstanding young citizen, I’ll teach you some tracking this weekend — assuming Big Sis allows.”
“We’ll see about that,” Brigit says, enveloping her squirming brother in an extended hug.
“Tristan,” Elspeth addresses me. “Good luck. Remember, channel your special powers of love and relationship, and you’ll be successful.”
I don’t bother answering. I mean, how could any self-respecting guy respond to that?
“Okay, everyone. Running late,” Alex declares. “Have to do a client pickup after I drop you all off. Can’t believe I’ve given my best guide three days off. Just shows how generous I am.” He winks at Elspeth and does some hand motions to usher us all back into the truck.
I feel half sorry for Dean, but sure don’t want him on our trip. Wouldn’t want to see him in the Lower Canyon anytime soon. I barely feel ready for it myself. He may be a feisty kid with amazing skills for his age, but he’s still a kid. And a little jerk, given how he’s half kicking Elspeth as she steers him into Brigit’s bungalow.
• • •
Half an hour later, Alex pulls to a stop at the walk-in point.
“Tristan,” he says. “A word with you alone, please.”
Wary, I follow him a short distance away from Dominik and Brigit, who don’t give us a second glance as they begin checking gear and chatting, even laughing. Brigit actually laughs?
Alex, usually so full of himself, is shuffling his feet and trying not to look at me. Then he starts in. “You know I was part of the Search and Rescue team that swept the canyon for your father.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, we did as thorough a job as we could, Tristan, buddy, but naturally we concentrated almost entirely on the creek and its banks. It’s not like it was possible to check out every ledge or cave. So look up sometimes and —”
“I get it.”
“Of course you do. Sorry, I know this is tough for you. Wish we’d found him alive, or even located his —”
“I appreciate what Search and Rescue did.” It comes out a bit wooden. I want to smile and shrug like this is no big deal. But that would take a superhero, which I’m not.
“Did you know that Brigit was also part of the Search and Rescue effort?”
My heart stops. “Huh? She didn’t even live around here then.”
“Nope, she came down from Lillooet especially because I asked her to. I knew her from canyoneering up there sometimes. And she did fine; she’s very competent and she worked hard. Anyway, I think it’s nice of her to volunteer to help you out today. She didn’t want Dominik along, wanted it to be just the two of you, but I figured a third person is always safer, and with Dominik’s tracker skills —”
“Was it you who arranged for me to do the Upper Canyon for free last week?” I don’t mean it to come out so bluntly, but the question has been bugging me.
“Um, yeah.”
“Why?”
He looks down at his feet. “To see if you were ready for the Lower Canyon.”
“Because?”
“Well, I’ll just tell you straight, Tristan. Elspeth has been pressuring me for weeks to get you into the Lower Canyon. I don’t know why she’s convinced you’ll find something all these months later, but when that woman gets an idea in her head — well, you know how women can be. And Brigit? I honestly don’t know why she’s so keen. She’s not usually a fan of Elspeth’s wacky ideas, but there you have it.”
He lifts a hand and squeezes my shoulder. “Good luck, Tristan. And be careful.”
• • •
Some time later, with that conversation still running through my mind, Dominik, Brigit, and I make it to the canyon rim. We ease off our packs, heavy with their extra load of sleeping bags and sleeping mats. My heart is doing double time, given it’s my first ever trip into the Lower Canyon. There’s also a heaviness to doing it against my mother’s orders and leaving her yet again. Yet I hear the gorge calling me.
For a split second, I even imagine Dad materializing from the trees and stepping forward to shake my hand. You’re doing the right thing, Tristan. You’re ready for the Lower Canyon, and you need to do it for your mother. Also for yourself. You will find what you need, I promise. The image disappears as fast as it played through my head. Am I losing it?
I try not to think of the way I left Mom: screaming, “No! Don’t let him go!” to Uncle Ted, working herself into a real fit. I can hardly believe Uncle Ted encouraged me, and that he promised to stay with Mom while I’m away.
“I can tell you feel strongly about it, Tristan. Elspeth keeps insisting it will help Mary recover. So go ahead, but do be careful.”
• • •
“Earth to Tristan.”
“Uh-huh,” I say to Dominik.
“We are ready to rappel.”
“Oh. We are.”
Brigit giggles and rolls her eyes at Dominik, who makes a face back. Come to think of it, they’ve been teasing each other like old pals the entire walk, while I’ve been kind of spaced out. Hmm, flirting? My Polish friend must be desperate to hit on a moody maniac like Brigit. Well, good luck to him.
“Hey, Brigit,” I say, looking at the largest of the three backpacks on the ground in front of us. “I recognize your pack — just got those models in at the store last week.”
“Guess I have good taste in where I shop,” she says brightly, but she moves toward her bag protectively.
I reach for it and hoist it up. “Holy crap! This weighs a couple of tons. Are you training for Mount Everest or something?”
“I’m carrying the longest rope,” she answers dryly, grabbing the pack away from me. “And the first-aid kit, dishes, and emergency gear.”
“I was just kidding,” I say, taken aback by how defensive she sounds.
“Wonder Woman,” Dominik jokes. “Trying to show us all up. Okay, let us get suited up.”
Right from the start, we’re a tight team. We’re all experienced, and not having beginners along keeps us moving fast and efficiently. Soon there’s a rhythm to our actions. Brigit always tackles stuff first, while Dominik — who has the backup rope — is always last. Instructions don’t have to be repeated or explained, and the jumps into clear pools become fun contests, which Dominik always wins with his signature double backflips.
• • •
By midday, we’ve already made our way down the first section; it’s challenging without being death-defying.
“I calculate we have covered almost a quarter of a mile,” Dominik says, studying his topographic map. “Not bad for a morning. If we put in the same effort this afternoon, we will be one-third of the way to our hike-out.”
“We’re doing great,” Brigit agrees, “but let’s take a break here.” She disappears to scout ahead.
Lying full-length on a warm boulder, I hope she won’t return soon. The morning has done great things for my confidence, but I’m sore and tired. All along the way, I’ve kept an eye out for sheltered ledges where Dad might have rested, and I’ve checked out half a dozen. My companions have indulged me in the extra time it takes, but really, we all know that this long after Dad’s journey, it’s highly unlikely there will be any trace other than the occasional anchor. We’ve found a few of those and left them untouched. Shredded webbing won’t help Mom.
• • •
“Cool toboggan slide ahead,” Brigit reports when she returns ten minutes later.
We rouse ourselves and position our bodies feet-downstream to slide down the chute. I enjoy the rump-bump and whoosh of the water on the way. As
I bob up in the pool below, I catch sight of a cave-like formation in the granite ten feet above where we land. Brigit is staring at it. If she weren’t, I might even have missed it.
“What do you think?” she asks.
“Worth a try,” I say, and I allow Dominik to heave me up high enough to crawl into it.
Sitting at the entrance, I wait for my eyes to adjust to the dark. A thick cushion of moss blankets the little space, which smells moist and earthy.
“Channelling my special powers,” I whisper as a joke. The carpet of moss absorbs my words. That’s when I see the boot print.
Clear as anything: right in the middle of the tiny cave, like he’s sitting here next to me. A perfect imprint of the left sole of his favourite canyoneering boots, the black ones missing from Mom’s closet.
“You still up there, Tristano?” Dominik calls up minutes later.
But I want to be alone with the boot print, alone with what may be the only sign I’ll find of my father on this trip. I want the imprint to tell me more — how he was feeling, whether he had any premonition, where things went wrong. Whether there’s a ghost of a chance he’s still alive.
“Tristan, you okay?” comes Brigit’s voice.
I let my hands hover over the pressed moss as I fight back tears.
“Coming,” I say a minute later, and Dominik’s tall, strong body helps me down.
“A boot print,” I say, choked up.
“And you think it might be his?” Dominik replies in a dubious tone.
“I know it’s his,” I say, perhaps too loudly.
CHAPTER 12
We’re less than a quarter mile above Plunge Falls, according to our maps, although in canyoneering, that can mean an entire day’s slog. The terrain has become steeper, more difficult, close to terrifying at times for me. I’m relying ever more heavily on Brigit’s and Dominik’s expertise.
“It’s nearly dark,” I alert my companions. “Don’t we have to bivouac soon?” As in roll out our sleeping bags on a flat boulder or dirt patch.
Instead of answering, Dominik squats down at the base of a tree, then peers up it.
“What is it?” I ask.
“Baby warblers knocked out of their nest.”
Brigit and I lean down to look. Three tiny feathered balls emit the faintest of squeaks. Their eyes blink as they lie barely moving on the ground.
“The mother has abandoned them,” Brigit says in a gritty voice.
“Or she was rousted by a raven or eagle,” Dominik suggests.
“We should leave them in case she can get back to them,” I say lamely.
“They’re goners, you idiot. Better to put them out of their misery,” Brigit scoffs.
“No!” Dominik protests, looking at Brigit in surprise. “Let nature take its course. Whatever will happen, will happen.”
“I’ll tell you what went down and what will happen,” Brigit says in a low and noxious tone, her face right in Dominik’s. “A nasty predator lured the mother away, when she should have stuck to her chicks. Now they’re paying the price.”
As she looks up, we follow her gaze to a turkey vulture circling high in the sky. “See? That’s their fate.” And before we can move, she raises a boot, crunches the baby birds under her heel, and clomps off.
Dominik and I lock eyes. He shakes his head, shoulders his pack, and follows our leader. I turn away from the murdered birds and grit my teeth. My stomach has turned acidic; anger rockets up from nowhere.
“Brigit!” I shout.
She pauses but doesn’t turn my way.
“I know your mom died in the canyon, and I’m sorry.”
She spins around and stomps back to me. “Are you? What would you know about it? You still have one parent, useless as she is.” Her bitterness hits me like spit.
“What did you say?” I shout. I have the urge to punch her.
“I said you still have one parent, even if she refuses to pull herself together ’cause she’s a total wimp.”
“Brigit,” Dominik admonishes, lifting his hands to her shoulders and trying to steer her away.
She throws off his hands and glares at me. “It’s your father’s fault,” Brigit declares. “If it weren’t for him, my mother would still be alive. And I wouldn’t be stuck raising Dean. It’s not fair that I have to raise a kid at my age!”
Her voice has gone hysterical, and Dominik’s face drains of colour as he watches us.
“What are you saying?” I demand. “Search and Rescue said they didn’t know each other and were never in the canyon at the same time. My father was alone when the canyon killed him, if it even did. I know how it feels to lose a parent, Brigit. But blaming people who had nothing to do with it doesn’t help.”
My grief, buried deep inside me for months, is erupting in a spew of anger I didn’t know I had. I’m fighting tears, Brigit is advancing on me, and Dominik is backing up with utter confusion on his face.
“You think they weren’t together?” she demands. “Of course you think that, because I lied to Search and Rescue about the date my mother entered the canyon, and I lied about them not knowing each other. Why? To avoid the scandal. You should thank me. The truth is, she entered the same day as your father, with your father. I saw them leave together. And it wasn’t the first time they’d hung out together.”
“You’re making it up!” I shout. “Shut up!”
“He lured her in. It’s all his fault. What, you can’t believe your father was a cheat and a liar? Ask your mom. She’ll say she doesn’t know, but women always do. Why else do you think she lies there all day, feeling sorry for herself? But don’t cry to me about losing a parent and having to do a few more chores. You don’t have a younger brother to raise on a tiny paycheque. Oh, look at you! You don’t believe me, do you? So sorry to spoil your image of your perfect dad!”
She whirls around and takes long strides away from me. Dominik teeters on his feet as if trying to decide who to comfort. In the end, he gives me an apologetic look and skulks in the direction she has taken.
I sink to the ground, my emotions a toxic mix of anger, confusion, betrayal, and disbelief. First and foremost is the almost certain sense that her story is false. But there’s also anger at my mother if it is true and she has known all along and has lied to me all these months. Anger at her unwillingness to deal with it, thereby making both my life and hers a misery. And then there’s a dizzying rage at Brigit for daring to make all these accusations, which my heart tells me are not true. Bullshit! Even if they were true, how dare she be the one to reveal them in such a heartless manner?
For a second my eyes rest on the mangled baby birds; quickly I turn away. A thousand questions form, but two are more insistent than the rest: Why did Brigit want to take this trip into the Lower Canyon? To “help” me? Nope. And why had she not wanted Dominik to come with us?
I don’t know how long I sit there on my own. I’ve lost all sense of time when I hear Dominik and Brigit arguing about where to put their sleeping pads. Fine. They haven’t ventured far, but I refuse to join them. All we brought for supper is sandwiches, anyway. I turn my pack upside down and sort through everything that falls out. I put my canyoneering gear to one side, eat my sandwich, and spread out my mini sleeping pad, which reaches only to my hips. Full-length ones are too bulky and heavy for canyoneers to tote all the way down a canyon. But by placing my empty pack beneath the rest of me, I have sufficient paddling and protection from the damp soil. I crawl into my sleeping bag and cry for a long time, as quietly as possible.
CHAPTER 13
“Hot oatmeal!” Dominik’s cheerful voice wakes me next morning. “Brigit put some extra brown sugar in it just for you.”
I rub my eyes, struggle to remember where I am, and push my stiff body into a sitting position. Grogginess gives way to wariness as yesterday afternoon’s exchange rushes back to me. I
hold bitterness at bay as I wait to see how Brigit will approach me.
“We made a campfire.” Dominik presses the steaming bowl into my hands. A spoon stands straight up in the centre. He’s wearing a million-watt smile.
“Thanks!” I say, ravenously hungry despite bottled emotions.
“You’ll need the energy.” Brigit’s voice drifts from where she moves to stand behind Dominik, her chin resting on his shoulder, hands around his waist. “We tackle Plunge Falls today.”
I look at her, trying to determine her mood. Is she not going to apologize? Will she take back what she said? Is she going to pretend nothing happened? And where does that leave me?
“It’s going to be warm and sunny all day,” she adds perkily.
I narrow my eyes at her, waiting for something else. But she just smiles. “You were awesome yesterday, Tristan. I was impressed. Dominik was, too.” She gives Dominik a hug. “And just as well, because it gets harder from here. Anyway, we should take our time after we do Plunge Falls, since there’s more chance we’ll find what you came looking for there.”
Because the falls killed him, and his pack floated away, burst, and fed stuff into the current. That’s what she thinks, but no one knows for sure where my dad drowned, if he even did. All Search and Rescue said was that they found his too-short rope dangling from the falls and no more webbing below that point, just his sleeping bag and some clothes not far downstream.
I suffer a flashback of Mom’s and my conversation. She said Dad was unusually excited about the expedition. And it clearly upset her that he’d left his wedding ring behind; she seemed to believe he was keeping something from her.
No! I refuse to believe it!
To push those thoughts away, I study Brigit’s profile as she stands with her back to me, studying the canyon section downstream. Where does she think her mother was killed? And is that why she talked her way onto the Search and Rescue team looking for my dad, to find remnants of her mother while pretending to look for my father? I’d never dare ask her. And anyway, my stomach is too empty to deal with such dark thoughts right now.