Smokescreen

by Nancy Hartry

  “Are you her only kid?” Kerry nodded, her teeth clenched. “She must really miss you. Is this the first time you’re away from home?”

  “Yeah. So pathetic.”

  Yvette picked at her nails. “I used to get so fed up with my dad. Sometimes he pissed me off and I’d punish him by not speaking to him. But now he’s gone, and I can’t take that back.”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  “She obviously loves—”

  “She weighs my food! Every stupid calorie. She pinches my waist and says I’m getting fat.”

  Yvette sucked in a long, slow breath. “Okay then. Well, I think you look fabulous. You just don’t know it yet.”

  “She made my whole life revolve around dancing. So now that I can’t do it, I feel like crap.”

  “Well, if you dance the way you eat, you must be something. You’re like a hungry greyhound puppy, all long legs and so geeky you don’t know what to do with yourself.”

  Kerry couldn’t help laughing. “You mean gawky.”

  The two girls scrambled to get ready. Kerry rinsed the bug juice out of her hair and put on a pair of jeans, a red tank top, and running shoes. Yvette dressed similarly, but somehow the effect was entirely different. Her tank top was more coral than red, with a plunging neckline. She tucked it into the waist of black capris accentuated with a white leather belt. Instead of runners, she wore coral flip-flops and a two-minute spray of Deep Woods Off up to her knees. Then she added a silver ankle bracelet, like a charm bracelet on drugs.

  “You like it?” she asked. “These little things are from my father’s fishing box. Don’t worry, I clipped off the hooks. This yellow one was his favorite trout-fishing fly. This is a sinker. This fish tooth already had a hole in it. You can recognize a plastic worm, except it’s lime green, and these are supposed to be fish eggs. A good way to start a conversation, no?”

  Kerry laughed. “A good way to make the guys look at your ankles.…” Watch and learn, she thought, feeling like an ugly stepsister.

  “Voilà. This will make us very popular.” Yvette pulled out a big liquor bottle. “It’s tequila from Mexico. Strong stuff! Try some.”

  “I’ll pass,” Kerry said quickly. “I’ve never had hard liquor.”

  “Come on,” Yvette teased. “You have to start sometime. Ç’est l’fun!”

  Kerry lay in bed. The bed seemed to be tilting, and she felt as if she were hovering above her own body, looking down. She sat bolt upright—Ow, my head!—as her stomach lurched and hot acid gushed up into her throat. She stumbled to the door and just made it to the porch before a disgusting mix of tequila and supper spewed up and landed at the base of a pine tree. Her hair stank and her breath stank as she vomited again and again.

  She staggered along the path to the stream behind the trailer, knelt down and lost her balance, and almost toppled off the rock. She lay on her stomach, cool granite against her cheek, and sluiced water on her face. It had been a long time since she’d barfed, and she’d forgotten how really barfie it was. She clambered up and stumbled to the washroom and had a hot, soapy shower in the dark, by the glow of a flashlight, so the guys couldn’t see in. See, I remembered. I’m not that drunk. “Whoopsie!” A third of the shampoo spilled into her hand and dripped between her fingers. She smeared shampoo all over her body and let it rinse away, and then wrapped herself in Yvette’s terrycloth bathrobe. She flipped on the lights, fumbled through her bag, and took two aspirin with about a gallon of water. Back in the trailer, she changed into a new T-shirt and crawled into bed. Yvette didn’t even know she’d been gone.

  Had she really danced with Aubrey or was it a dream? She touched her cheek and thought she could still feel the warm flannel of his shirt, soft as the nightie her Irish grandma had given her when she was six. Her back felt weak where he’d placed his hand. Her head was dizzy as she recalled resting it on his shoulder, her light brown hair mixing with his black hair. The boy could dance! Her feet had barely touched the ground.

  She must have fallen asleep, because the next thing she knew was the smell of coffee and bacon. She crawled to a standing position on her bed and peeked out the window. Maybe she could dash into the cookhouse for a jug of water and a couple of coffees, and slap together a bacon and tomato sandwich for Yvette, without running into anyone. Oh, and she could get her some chocolate milk. Yvette didn’t look as if she was getting up till noon, not without help, anyway. Kerry tied her hair in a red bandanna and decided to skip brushing her teeth until after breakfast. She had her hand on the screen door of the cookhouse when Didier hailed her.

  “Was that you I saw dancin’ last night like a rock star?”

  She bristled. “I’m not supposed to dance.”

  “I could have sworn you were dancing with Chief Two-Beers. You were all over him.”

  Kerry’s mind raced. Should she deny it? It was none of Didier’s business. Omigod. It was Didier who kept feeding me coolers. What did I say to him? I remember a lot of questions about me, about Yvette, in exchange for more drinks. Very personal stuff about why I liked Aubrey and why he didn’t.

  “I can’t dance.” Kerry charged up to the front of the canteen and grabbed a tray. Of course Didier knew she’d danced with Aubrey. He and Yvette had been on the dance floor, making a game of bumping into them. She poured two glasses of chocolate milk, added a bowl of granola and the fixings for a bacon and tomato sandwich, and grabbed one black coffee.

  Inside the trailer, she set the coffee down on Yvette’s dresser and wafted the steam in her direction. “Wakey, wakey.”

  Yvette groaned.

  “Have some chocolate milk; it’s the best thing for a hangover,” said Kerry.

  “How would you know?” Yvette’s voice sounded fuzzy.

  “It’s my dad’s trick. On New Year’s Day, after his annual bender, he puts on his party hat, drinks chocolate milk, and vacuums so my mother won’t get mad at him. It’s very cute.”

  Kerry supported Yvette while she took a long slurp. When Yvette flopped back down on the bed, she was already fast asleep.

  “Ah, crap. Yvette, I feel like crap, too, but we have to show up for work. I’ll go gas up the truck and get the stuff.” Yvette pulled the pillow over her head.

  Well, it’s still early and I don’t feel so great myself. Maybe a little walk will help. Kerry rifled through Yvette’s dresser drawers for a can of bear repellent and shoved it in her back pocket. Yesterday she wouldn’t have ventured out on her own, but something had changed overnight. She was getting used to this place. And those guys from Lakehead weren’t all that scary when you got to know them. Starting with Didier. And Aubrey—she didn’t know what to think about Aubrey. He was polite, walking the girls home last night and taking Yvette’s lighter out of her hand to light her cigarette. But he seemed awfully quiet.

  She used the stairs and railing of the trailer to stretch her muscles, especially her hamstrings. Then, beginning with a slow walk and building the pace, she turned north on the highway. There was a good breeze, and the bugs were nowhere to be found.

  The trees looked delicate in the early morning light, with soft, bright green new growth at the end of each branch. Birds flitted in and out of the bushes that edged the highway, traveling with her and keeping her company. The sandy shoulder was soft to the foot and she fell into an even pace. She heard the low drone of a plane in the sky, then the wappa, wappa of a helicopter, and counted one floatplane and three helicopters following the highway northward. One of the pilots dipped low and waved at her, and Kerry waved back, making a peace sign.

  Uh-oh, last night was coming back to her. A moment when she was dancing with Aubrey, and some of his fire crew, who called him Chief Two-Beers, told him to make love, not war. She remembered how his spine had stiffened, the set of his half-closed eyes, and then his arm thrusting above her head, his fingers forming a v, and him firmly saying, “Peace.” She’d had her mouth open, ready to say something caustic. Who did these people think they were, talking to
their boss like that? He’d pulled her to him and muffled her words against his chest. She’d felt the perspiration through his shirt. “Shh, let it go, they’re drunk. It doesn’t matter,” he’d said.

  But it mattered to her.

  The sun was getting higher, and as Kerry crested a hill she cupped her eyes to get a better look at the sky. There was a hazy ring around the sun, like the rings of Saturn. “How weird is that!” She checked her heart rate and crossed the road to face any oncoming traffic, and began to retrace her steps. She’d gone as far as the garbage dump when gray-white flakes of ash rained down from the sky. I can’t believe they’re allowed to burn garbage up here, she thought. I’m going to put in a report that burning garbage shouldn’t be allowed.

  She was walking home, holding her hands palm up, catching powdery bits of ash like snowflakes, when a familiar green and white truck barreled over the rise. Didier stood on his brakes to bring the crew cab to a tire-screeching halt.

  “What’s going on?” Kerry asked.

  “A big smoker thirty miles north of here. Don’t look so stunned; you’re covered in ash. It started on the island in Trout Lake, probably set by campers. Anyway, you’d better hustle. Harcourt’s looking for you.”

  “Why?”

  He put the truck in gear. “You’ll find out.”

  Now what have I done? she thought. We’re not late yet.

  She tried to hurry but her shins were stinging. She stopped, bent at the waist, and rubbed down her legs. When she stood up a black bear, not twenty-five yards away, was loping down the middle of the road toward town. Her heart pounded out of her chest but the bear didn’t appear to be any threat. When she caught up to the spot where she thought it had gone back into the bush, she started to run. She kept running until she reached the camp, only pausing to look over her shoulder.

  When she got there, Harcourt was in his car, and he leaned on the horn. “I’ve been waiting for you for half an hour,” he snapped. “You should tell people where you’re going. I already spoke to your partner and she’s getting ready to go.”

  “What’s the rush? It’s not even seven.”

  “A big fire’s been burning all night and it’s up to two hundred acres. We need some cooks on site by noon, and you’ve been volunteered.”

  “You’re kidding, right? I don’t know the first thing about cooking.”

  “Well, you better be a quick learner, because you’re going. There’ll be a plane at the dock in half an hour. Pack for about a week; we don’t have a clue how long this will last. I’ve never seen it so hot and dry this early in the season.”

  “Gosh, Mr. Harcourt, I think you’d better get somebody else.”

  He lifted his sunglasses and parked them on his forehead. “Girl, you’re not getting this, are you? You don’t have a choice. Now that you’ve signed on, it’s like being in the army. We tell you where to go and you go. That’s it. We got legislation that gives us authority to conscript anybody and anything when there’s a fire, but we start with our own staff. You are now a cook and there’s nothing you can do about it. Got it?” Kerry moved away from his car. “And you’d better damn well be on time for the plane. If you’re late, I’ll dock you a week’s pay, I swear I will.”

  Kerry choked on the dust plume kicked up as Harcourt’s car shuddered down the lane. “You’re such a jerk,” she said, not caring who heard her.

  She found the trailer unlocked and Yvette curled up in bed, her knees hugging her chest. Kerry nudged her shoulder, and when that didn’t work she flicked on the overhead light. Yvette threw an arm over her eyes, motioning Kerry away with her other hand.

  “Stop messing, Yvette. I’m not happy about being a cook either, but I don’t see how we can get out of it.”

  Yvette sat bolt upright in bed, clinging to the blankets and shaking. “I’m not going.” Her voice was barely audible. “I can’t fly.”

  “What do you mean, you can’t fly? Are you sick? I don’t get it. Oh, you don’t like flying? But you flew to get here.”

  Yvette shook her head. “No, you flew here. I took the bus for two stinking days. I was very clear to ask, and the personnel woman in Toronto said this job didn’t include flying. I even wrote it down on the first page of my notebook.”

  Kerry sat on the bed beside her and took her hand. “Are you afraid of flying?”

  “I promised Maman I wouldn’t fly. Just so you know, my papa was killed in a small plane crash, flown by a drunk and unlicensed pilot. I promised her I’d never set foot in one of those things. Never ever. I won’t do it.”

  Kerry thought she was going to be sick. No way she was going if Yvette didn’t go. Not alone. I don’t know the first thing about cooking. Or camping. Or anything! “Just get dressed.” She started packing for both of them. “We’ll figure something out.”

  “Kerry, listen to me. If I break my word, something dreadful will happen. It’s the same feeling I had the morning Papa left for Quebec. I feel something anonymous.”

  “Huh? Something—something ominous?” Kerry pulled the drawstring tight around her sleeping bag. “Let’s go. You can tell me about it on the way.”

  PART 2

  Base Camp Number One

  June 28–30

  CHAPTER 6

  K erry took the wheel and Yvette rode shotgun into town. Immediately upon buckling up her seatbelt, she put a cigarette in her mouth and searched her day pack.

  “Maudite marde. Where’s my lighter? Have you seen my lighter? I hope I didn’t lose it. I’ve had it for a long time, and they don’t come in that hot pink anymore.”

  “I saw you with it at the party, I think,” Kerry leaned forward and pushed in the cigarette lighter. Yvette sucked hard on her cigarette and blew smoke out the window.

  “See, my bad luck has started. Losing my little Bic is a sign. I don’t know what I should do. The overtime would be fantastic, but I promised Maman I wouldn’t fly.”

  Kerry chewed on her lower lip and kept driving. When they reached the office, they found the yard crawling with staffers, and had to pick their way around hoses, pumps, and canvas tents. A yellow floatplane tugged on its ropes at the end of the dock, bobbing on the waves like a bathtub toy. “It looks so little,” Kerry said.

  Yvette squinted at the plane. “Actually it’s decent-sized—it’s a Beaver, likely operated by the department and not a private contractor. That’s a good thing. At least they have safety standards. Things would have been different if my dad had been flying in a government plane.”

  Kerry shrugged into her pack and hugged her sleeping bag to her chest, but Yvette left her gear in the back of the truck. They walked to the edge of the lake and watched the pilot’s every move. He’d laid all the cargo on the dock in order, from heaviest to lightest.

  “I need to see his eyeballs,” said Yvette.

  The pilot looked up when their boots sounded on the dock. He was tall and broad-shouldered. Kerry thought he looked like a cop in his aviator glasses, but then he whipped them off and walked toward them with a big grin of welcome. He held out his hand to each in turn and she noted his firm and confident handshake. “Hi, ladies, Matthew Stanowski. A perfect day for flying, except for the fire, of course. Sure glad you travel light.” He turned to Yvette. “Now don’t get me wrong, but I think you’ve gone a bit underboard. I’ve got room for your stuff.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not going with you.”

  “Really? I was told I’d be taking two girls and a Buzz Harcourt. Do you know how big he is?”

  “He’s short and lumpy,” said Yvette. “I’d say he weighs about two hundred and fifty or so.”

  “So it’s two of you for one of him. That could balance out nicely.”

  “You weren’t listening. I’m not going, and that’s final.”

  Matthew looked at Kerry for an explanation. She shrugged. “Yvette doesn’t fly. They told her in Toronto she wouldn’t have to.”

  Matthew leaned down to look into Yvette’s eyes as if she were a scared lit
tle kid. “Okay, I understand how you feel. What can I do to change your mind?”

  “Nothing. Oh, I don’t know. Listen, have you got a match? I can’t find my lighter.”

  Matthew reached deep into his pocket and handed her a pack of matches. “Keep it.” He turned back to Kerry, giving her a cargo list and a pen. “I could use your help.”

  Kerry looked at all the cargo on the dock. It seemed like too much stuff for such a small plane. How was it ever going to get off the ground? Meanwhile, Yvette lit her cigarette, stomped to the end of the dock, and walked along the beach until she ran out of sand. She plunked down on a rock and scanned the water, tugging on her necklace as if she might yank it off.

  “Sorry, Matthew, I have to go and see how my partner’s doing. If she doesn’t go, neither do I.” Kerry clumped down the dock after Yvette.

  “You okay?” Yvette shrugged and Kerry took a deep breath. “What would your papa do in a situation like this?”

  “That’s easy. He’d fly, never thinking about what could happen. But I … I swore to Maman, on the health of my unborn children, that I’d keep my two feet on the ground.” She reached for another smoke, and then cupped her hands around a match. “And Maman won’t survive if something happens to me. She’s only now beginning to sleep, after a year. Papa would say lightning doesn’t strike twice, almost never. But Kerry, what if crashing is my fate, too?”

  Kerry wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

  “And how would she cope with the little kids without me? Stéphane and Chantal fight all the time, and Danielle and Justin, the twins—well, two isn’t a good age.”

  Kerry sighed. “I’m not good at this kind of stuff. I don’t know what to say.”

  Yvette looked back at the plane, and the pilot loading the gear. “That fire—it’s going to be rolling with all this wind. I don’t know.…”

  “Come on, Yvette. Let’s go.”

  Reluctantly Yvette got up, and they walked back to the dock.