by Shay Savage
“I’m going into Whatì,” I say. “Breakfast is in the pan next to the fire, and there’s coffee ready.”
“Oh, okay.” Seri looks over at me with a sleepy and confused expression. “Do you want me to come with you?”
“No reason for you to.” I grab my parka off the hook. “I just want to pay back the clinic for their snowmobile gas. I won’t be gone too long.”
“All right.” She rubs the kitten’s head. “Has Solo eaten?”
“No, he’s been as lazy as you this morning.” I smile at her as I pull on my parka and gloves. “There’s enough cooked meat for him, too.”
Solo meows and jumps off the bed to run into the kitchen. I swear he knows when we are talking about food.
“Is there anything you want me to do while you’re gone?”
“Not in particular.” I open the door a crack. “Relax. Read that romance book you know you’ve wanted to dig into.”
“I might.” She gives me a playful smile. “Maybe I’ll get some ideas.”
“I’ll grab you some donuts on the way back.” I wink at her and head out the door.
The Jeep starts on the second try, and I’m grateful that I don’t have to charge the battery again. The trek to Whatì is bumpy but otherwise uneventful. I go to the clinic first and leave a can of gas for their snowmobiles and then head for the fishing lodge.
The lodge is on the docks and one of the more modern buildings in town. It’s one of the few places large enough to hold a good-sized gathering, and Margot prides herself in running the community events there. I park the Jeep and head through the doors.
Margot is already inside, dragging mats to the center of the room.
“Drumming tonight?” I ask as I pull off my gloves and parka. I hang them up near the entrance and head towards Margot.
“Hand Game,” Margot says with a smile. She adjusts the mat and wipes her hands on her jeans. “It’s nearly time for the tournament. We have to practice if we are going to have a chance at beating those guys from Garneti.”
“Where is it this year?”
“Behchokǫ̀. They’re really going all out this time.”
“Not too far a trip, at least.” I wonder if Seri really wants to go and how she would feel about my rooting for Margot’s team.
“Let me grab my bag.” Margot slips into the back room and comes out carrying her laptop case. She sits at one of the tables off to the side and stares up at me.
“Well?” I ask when she keeps looking at me. “What did you find?”
“You might want to sit down,” she says. “Do you still smoke?”
“Sometimes.”
She tosses me a pack of cigarettes and sits on the other side of me.
“Really?” I raise an eyebrow at her as I pull the plastic off the new pack. “You’re encouraging this? You always gave me shit for smoking.”
“I think you might need one or two.” She places a plate next to me to use as an ashtray and then leans down. She pulls some papers out of her bag and places them in front of her.
“You’re killing me here, Margot.” I resist the urge to bang my head against the table. “Will you just tell me what you found?”
“I know you,” she says, “and we’re going to do this my way—one step at a time.” She waves her hand at me. “Light up!”
I glare at her for a moment, but I know she isn’t going to budge. She’s a stubborn thing, and if I don’t play by her rules, I’m not going to get what I want. I sigh loudly and fish a cigarette out of the pack.
“First off, I think you should know that Iris McGuire is her married name. The man looking for her is her husband, Kyle.”
“Yeah, I figured that much out.” I light the cigarette, take one puff, and then set it down in the makeshift ashtray.
“She told you?”
“Yes.” I stare at her darkly. “She’s not lying to me about this, Margot. It’s just…Seri doesn’t know everything. Iris told me she was married but that she filled out divorce papers.”
“Yes, I found a record of those. Filed on her side, but he never signed them.”
“I assumed that.”
“He’s been charged multiple times with drug dealing, money laundering, and extortion,” Margot says. “Never convicted, but it doesn’t seem like he’s a nice guy.”
This is also not new information.
“I know about this,” I say. “I really want to know about Seri.”
“I’ll get to that in good time.” Margot shifts the papers around. “I want to talk about Iris first. Iris McGuire, maiden name Haugen. Born on June twenty-fifth in Indianapolis, Indiana, twenty-nine years of age. Her father Torsten emigrated from Norway as a child and enlisted in the US Marine Corps after high school, where he met and married her mother, Alyssa.”
“Are you trying to torture me?”
“Be patient.” Margot shuffles papers again. “It’s helps to understand the background here. Iris definitely has a troubled past, a handful of misdemeanor arrests but never any time in jail. She definitely hung out with a bad crowd though I think Kyle McGuire had a lot to do with that.”
“Yeah, and he threw her off a bridge in the end. Seri told me about that.”
“Did she?” Margot raises an eyebrow at me. “I couldn’t find anything about that, but I did find a missing person’s report on her.”
“There has to be more than that,” I say. “Her body was found on a riverbank by two kids. There was an investigation, but they didn’t have enough evidence to arrest anyone, but Seri knows it was Kyle.”
“I couldn’t find anything about an investigation,” Margot says. “Just the missing person’s report. It was filed by her landlord.”
“Right.” I nod emphatically, glad to hear something was falling into place. “That’s what Seri said.”
“No one has any information on her whereabouts since the report was filed.”
“That’s because she’s dead!” I slam my hand on the table as my patience wears out.
Margot leans back in her chair, watching me stoically while I try to collect myself. I grab the half-burned cigarette out of the ashtray and then have to relight it to actually smoke.
“He threw her body into the river,” I say again. “There has to be something about that.”
“I’m sorry, Bishop,” Margot says, “but there isn’t anything about her being found in a river or next to one.”
“Well, you need to look again.” I grit my teeth and close my eyes. As my insides roll around, I try to get my focus back. “Sorry. I know you put some effort into this. I’m just…a little worked up.”
“I know you are,” Margot says quietly. “And just so you know, that guy is still around.”
“I was hoping he’d moved on—maybe gone to look for her in Yellowknife.”
“I think he did, but he’s back now. He has a room at the B&B, and he’s been asking everyone a lot of questions. He’s talked to Kirk out at Broken Toy’s and the guys up at the fishing camp.”
“He thinks she’s here.” I shake my head slowly. “He’s not leaving until he’s found some trace of her.”
“One thing he didn’t do,” Margot says, “is file a report with the Mounties. I would think that would be the first place he would go if his intentions were…honorable.”
“Yeah, I kinda doubt he is going to willingly talk to the police.”
“Bishop, I think this guy is really dangerous.”
“Yeah, so do I.”
“Seriously, Bishop.” Margot leans forward a little more and lowers her voice. “I’m not sure you need to be wrapped up in it all. If he figures out you’re hiding his wife, this guy could come after you.”
“I know how to take care of myself.”
“I know you do, but this is different.”
“No,” I say, “it’s not.”
I stare into her eyes for a long moment. Eventually, she can’t hold my gaze and looks away.
“Thanks for the info.” I push my chair b
ack and stand up.
“I’m not done yet,” Margot says. She pats the stack of papers on the table.
“What else do you have?” I ask as I sit back down.
“The Haugens had one other child—Serenity. You asked me to look her up, too.”
“Go on,” I say when Margot pauses. I sit up a little straighter and drag another cigarette from the pack. I tap it against the table impatiently.
“There isn’t a lot on her,” Margot says quietly. “A couple of articles from a school paper about honor roll students and a picture from a school play where she played a singing vegetable. I honestly don’t understand such things, but there it is.”
I close my eyes and tighten my hand into a fist. She’s wasting my time, and it’s pissing me off.
“There’s only one other piece I found about Serenity Haugen,” Margot says quietly.
“Well?” I ask. “What is it?”
“An obituary.”
Chapter 24
My hands start to shake as I use my finger to trace the words on the article Margot hands me.
Serenity Erin Haugen
Beloved daughter and sister
Taken from us too soon
Next to the solemn words is a picture of a girl who looks very much like a younger version of the woman in my cabin. However, when I look closely, I can see a few differences. The hair is a little lighter. The face has decidedly more freckles, and the nose is more bulbous on the end. Below the line about where the services were to be held, there’s a copy of an accident report regarding a fifteen-year-old girl crossing the street and a fatal collision with a delivery truck.
“I don’t understand,” I say softly. I shake my head and push the paper away. “This doesn’t make sense. Iris is the one who—”
Margot reaches across the table as the words catch in my throat.
“Iris Haugen McGuire is not dead,” Margot says succinctly. “Her sister, Serenity Haugen, died in a car accident more than ten years ago when Iris was seventeen.”
The words sink in, but I can’t wrap my head around them. None of this fits with the information I already have—information I’d already deemed correct. I’d come to the conclusion that Seri was the first and dominant personality, leaving Netti and Iris as secondary, appearing after Iris was killed. Though I had dozens of unanswered questions, I had assumed I knew some answers, at least. Now I know none of those so-called facts are true. Now I know that I know nothing.
Iris is alive.
Seri is dead.
My head continues to spin.
“Who’s in my cabin?” My voice sounds hoarse.
“I don’t know,” Margot says quietly. “I can only assume it’s Iris. I’m pretty certain it’s not Serenity.”
All I can do is shake my head as I stare at the pages in front of me. I simply can’t comprehend this new barrage of information. It seems that in truth, I have never met Serenity, but I feel as if she has just died in my arms.
“Bishop, I think this might be a good time to admit that you have fallen into deep, cold water. There’s no shame in hauling yourself out and going home. No one is expecting you to swim in it.”
“I don’t even know what the hell that means.” I rub my fingers into my eyes, trying to rid myself of the pressure behind them, but it doesn’t work.
“It means that you don’t really know this woman. You don’t know who she is or what kind of game she is playing. Maybe you need to admit that, and just get yourself out of it.”
“I can’t just kick her out in the snow.” My voice cracks as I even consider such an action. If I did, she would have nowhere to go and no one to turn to. I told her—I told all of them—to stay with me. I want them to stay.
“No, but you can drive her to Yellowknife, and give her money for a bus ticket.”
“I…I can’t do that.”
“Why not?” Margot leans back and crosses her arms over her chest.
“Because I don’t want to!” I scream. The pressure behind my eyes is too much, and I feel tears escape and run down my cheeks.
“Bishop!” Margot jumps at the sound of my voice, and her eyes go wide as she reaches for me.
I lean back in my chair and cover my face with my hands, quickly wiping the tears away. I stare off to one side and take a deep breath as I try to clear my head. The woman I know as Seri isn’t really dead. She’s in my cabin, likely playing with the cat.
The thought doesn’t bring me much comfort.
I glance at Margot and then away again. I’ve never been good at sorting out my emotions. I’m sure if I had ever actually opened up to a shrink, the good doctor would say my abusive past stunted my ability to express myself, but I’ve always believed I just wasn’t capable of certain emotions. Now that I’m experiencing them, I don’t know what to do.
“I’ve never seen you like this,” Margot says, bringing me out of my thoughts. “This woman has really gotten to you.”
I don’t answer. My chest and throat are still tight, and I don’t think I can get a word out even if I did have something to say.
“You want to help her,” Margot says.
I nod.
“Do you feel like you are obligated just because you saved her from the storm?”
“No.” I swallow hard. “It’s not that. She’s just…just different.”
“Well, that’s clearly true.” Margot’s biting tone isn’t lost on me.
“That’s not what I mean.” I give Margot a hard look. “It’s not just her; it’s me too. I’m different when I’m with her.”
“How so?”
I close my eyes and try to find the words while simultaneously trying to ignore the awkwardness of this whole conversation. I shouldn’t be discussing any of this with my ex, but I don’t have much of a choice. I try to come up with something that will at least make sense to her.
“I was empty before.” I inhale deeply and then stare straight into Margot’s dark eyes and tap my temple with two fingers. “I had a lot of shit up here”—I move my fingers to my chest—“but nothing in here.”
I watch Margot’s face as she closes her eyes and nods slightly. This information isn’t news to her.
“She's changed that.”
“Yeah. She has.”
I watch as Margot turns away for a moment. Her throat bobs as she swallows, trying to hold in her emotions, but I see them all. Anger, sadness, and jealousy all cross her face as I sit, unable to offer any consolation. I should feel bad about doing this to her, but I can’t. Sometimes I think that I’m just not capable of relating to people on an emotional level.
“How?” she asks in a surprisingly calm tone.
“I don’t know,” I tell her. “In the beginning, it was the same.”
“The same as what?”
“The same as it was with you—as it’s always been with anyone I meet. All I could think about was getting away from her, but I couldn’t. With the storm, there was nowhere to go. After a while, it was different. It was…fuck, I don’t know. I can’t put any of this into words.”
“You became comfortable with her in a way you never could with me.”
I glance up at Margot, expecting to see anger on her face, but there is none. I nod slowly.
“This is very new for you, isn’t it?” she says.
“Yes,” I reply. “And I’m not about to let that guy take her away from me.”
“I can see that.” Margot gives me a tight-lipped smile. “I’m happy for you, Bishop. I really am. I’m sad as well because this is what I wanted to see from you when we were together, but it wasn’t meant to be.”
“I’m sorry.” I don’t know what else I can say.
“You don’t need to be, but I appreciate the sentiment.” She stands up and sighs. “I need to finish up. The team will be here soon.”
“Oh yeah,” I say, glad for the change of topic. “Gotta be ready for the tournament.”
“I think we have a decent chance of placing this year,” she says. “
Do you want to stay? You’re always welcome on my team.”
I stare at the woman who took me in when I had nowhere to go and consider everything she’s done for me. I’ve hurt her more than once and seem to be pretty good at continuing to hurt her, yet she keeps allowing me to be involved in her life. She has always been a genuinely good person.
Maybe that was part of the problem between us. I never deserved Margot, and I knew it.
“Nice of you to offer, but you know I suck at it.” I give her a half smile. “All that waving around—I just kept dropping the coin.”
“You were always entertaining as a dancer when the drums played.” Margot tries to keep a straight face, but she can’t. I know she’s remembering the first time she took me to a drum dance and how I managed to fall on my face, trying to keep up with everyone. She smiles broadly, and for a brief moment, I miss being with her.
“Yeah, no thanks.”
“You always tried hard, Bishop,” she says as she leans down and reaches across the table, placing her hand over mine. “That’s what I liked about you. Even though you didn’t like being around so many people, you still tried. I know you did it for me even if you don’t want to admit it.”
I stare at our hands, not knowing what I should say. Maybe I did try for her. Maybe if I had tried harder, things would have been different. I don’t know. I don’t think it matters now.
“I think that’s why you won’t let go of this,” Margot says, still holding onto my hand. “You don’t like to give up. If this woman really means something to you, then you have my support.”
“Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say.
Margot releases my hand and stands up straight. She glances at the door as a couple of people enter the lodge.
“Do you mind if I sit here for a bit?” I ask, tapping the articles on the table.
“You’re fine,” she says. “I’ll need the table eventually, but you have some time.”
“Can I borrow some paper and a pen?”
“Sure.” Margot grabs the items from the office and gives them to me.