by Nancy Hartry
Shoot me! Twenty years of early mornings!
Six pounds of bacon were sizzling on the griddle. Toast was popping up in the toaster, and Rolf used a paintbrush to spread melted butter on the slices.
“Good coffee.” Even though his back was to her, she could tell that he was beaming. It took so little to please him.
“How about a cheese omelet?” he suggested. “You need protein to keep you going. Mushrooms and peppers? Onion, garlic, and dill?” He didn’t wait for an answer. With one hand he cracked six eggs, two at a time, into a bowl. He whisked the liquid until it was foamy. “For girls like you I use lots of butter. It’s good for the skin and the metabolism. You’re way too skinny. You need fats.”
He popped two pieces of dark rye bread in the toaster and folded over the omelet, and white cheese oozed into the pan. He spread a big spatula of butter on the toast. He plucked two white china plates, his “secret stash,” from the oven, and placed her plate in front of her, mounding wild strawberries between the toast and the omelet.
Rolf watched Kerry take her first bite. She closed her eyes and swayed a bit. “Sure beats the protein shake my mother sticks in front of me. With food like this, I could give up dancing. I wish you could cook for me all the time.”
Rolf grabbed his fork and heaped omelet on top of his toast. “My wife might have something to say about that, but I’ll go one better and teach you how to cook.”
“Deal!”
“Big day today, with a management meeting in the mess hall. I’m going to have to give you girls a couple of hours off this afternoon. Don’t get your girdle in a knot; I’ll pay you for the time. Now go get that lazybones partner of yours out of bed. It’s late. You can tell her that Harcourt has arranged for a big guy—six foot seven—to be a lifter and help you girls out in the kitchen. That should make her happy.”
“Aye, aye, sir. Look who’s here.”
Yvette stumbled into the kitchen. She went straight for the coffee and the cardboard squares holding four dozen eggs. She always stood quietly by herself, cracking eggs into a flat frying pan, while Kerry, more the morning person, did whatever Rolf asked, from flipping pancakes to turning bacon to stirring porridge.
Yvette was fairly awake by six, when the men started arriving, and she helped Kerry serve the food while Rolf watched from his stove, already preparing dinner. Dishwashing was pretty much constant whenever there was a break in the lineup, and that took them to about ten. Rolf had a new trick he wanted to show them: he placed the silverware in a strainer, poured boiling water over it, scooped it up into a clean pillowcase, and shook it all around until the cutlery was perfectly dry and spot-free.
For the next hour and a half there was a relentless routine of table wiping, vegetable prep, and more dishwashing. Kerry’s wrists hurt from all the chopping, and her nails stank of garlic and onion. By the time one meal ended, they were well into prep for the next one. Dinner hour was a chance to hang out with the firefighters, including the occasional female firefighter from another region waiting to take off for the bush. Then the girls did more dishes, swept the floor, and cleaned up, with half an hour’s rest if everything went well. From three to five they did laundry and potato peeling, to be ready to serve supper from six to whenever the crews stopped coming, which could be anytime from eleven until three the next morning. The sweet spot in the day came when the firefighters lingered over coffee and dessert, and the girls washed more dishes, cleaned up, and prepped for the next day’s breakfast.
With the big meeting happening today, Kerry was looking forward to free time from one-thirty to three. Her last job before crashing for the afternoon was to dump a pail of vegetable water down the hill. She hurled it without looking.
“Hey, watch what you’re doing!” A really tall guy was standing there, naked to the waist, with shaving foam covering his face. He waved a straight razor in the air while groping for the towel on the table to wipe his eyes, found a basin of water instead, and poured it over his head. He rubbed himself down.
Omigod, look at those scars! Parallel cuts ran up the inside of each arm, from below his wrist to well above the elbow. From this distance they looked like strands of cooked white spaghetti lying on tanned skin.
The stranger stared at Kerry and she found she couldn’t look away from him. It was like trying not to look at a car crash. “You can close your mouth,” he said. “I don’t bite, and no, I didn’t hurt myself in an industrial accident.”
“I’m sorry for staring. I mean, I’m sorry you got hurt.”
“I don’t cut anymore.” He shrugged into a plaid shirt and left it unbuttoned, so that a dark, curly mat of hair stayed visible from neck to waist. Man, he must spend half his day pumping iron to be ripped like that.
“Come here.” He beckoned her closer.
“Oh, I have to get back to the—”
“No, I want to introduce myself. I’m Slash, for obvious reasons.” He held out his hand as if to shake hers. “Hey, do I act like I’m gonna hurt you?”
Even as Kerry stepped forward, she was aware that he was making her do something she didn’t want to do, but she didn’t want to offend him. He grabbed her two wrists in one hand when she came near enough and pulled her close. He rolled up one sleeve and took the index finger of her hand, tracing it across the cut on his wrist as she tried to pull away.
“It’s just scar tissue that healed long ago. In some spots where the nerve endings are gone, I don’t feel anything. Like there.”
“Why?”
He dropped her hand. “I could bullshit you but I won’t, because I’m a very direct guy. I went on a drinking binge for six months, two years ago, and slashed my arm for every woman I’d been with, till then, that is. I’m not up to date, if you take my meaning.”
Kerry couldn’t look at him. She picked up the pail and started running back up the hill.
“Lookin’ forward to workin’ with you in the kitchen,” he called, but Kerry didn’t respond. Yvette had to hear this. This was one scary dude that Harcourt had picked for them.
She was relieved when she rounded the trailer and spotted a familiar face. Matthew was sitting on the veranda. The last time she’d seen him had been when he’d dropped them at Base Camp One. Before she could call out to him, he pulled a long, skinny notebook from a pocket of his pants, flicked it open, and wrote furiously, his pen digging into the paper so hard that it looked as if he might rip right through it. Such an intense guy, she thought.
“Hey, Matt. What ya’ doing?”
He looked as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t be doing. He shoved the notebook back in his pocket and his voice cracked when he spoke. “Nice to see you again, Kerry. Well, you caught me red-handed. I’m supposed to do my pilot’s log every night when I book off but I’m way behind, so I have to be creative, if you know what I mean.” He winked.
“Your secret’s safe with me,” said Kerry. “What are you doing here?”
“Waiting for the big meeting to start. I think they’re going to make an announcement to do with the arsonist. Hey, have you seen the Bear Whisperer?”
“Aubrey? No, he’s out fighting fires.”
“Damn, I was hoping to catch him. Tell him I was looking for him, okay?”
Did this mean someone had figured out that the fire had been started with Yvette’s lighter? Was Harcourt going to make a big show of having her arrested? Kerry’s mind whirred as she decided not to say anything. What was the point in worrying Yvette when there was nothing they could do to change things? While her partner had a nap, Kerry lay awake, waiting for the police to storm past the door alarm and arrest Yvette. She did enough worrying for both of them.
Omigod, are those wolves howling? Kerry strained to hear a call that she’d only heard on TV. She pulled the blanket over her head and tried to make the noise go away.
Aubrey was waiting for Kerry outside her trailer when the girls got off at eleven-thirty that night.
“I’ve been trying for da
ys to see you but it never works out. How about a little walk?” he said. “It’s not smoky and the stars are incredible.”
“Sounds good.…”
Yvette shone a flashlight in his direction and Kerry tried to imagine the scowl on her face. Aubrey was already walking down the path, as if he knew she’d follow him.
“You go on in, Yvette. I’ll be okay.”
“It’s late,” Yvette said. “This isn’t a good idea. You’re exhausted.”
“Yes, Mom. I won’t be long. You know I’m always too keyed up to go straight to sleep, and besides, I had a nap this afternoon.” It was becoming easier and easier to lie.
Aubrey reached back a dry and callused hand for Kerry’s and guided her through the sleeping camp. When they reached the water, she sat cross-legged on the dock in front of him, her back against his knee because she didn’t have the strength to sit up straight. His touch on her shoulders was like a whisper, barely there, stroking the aura around her. “You’re a good person,” he said, “and a good dancer.”
“I feel alive when I dance. I love the intricacy of the steps, the pacing, the kicks timed perfectly with the music. The judges call me a ‘pretty’ dancer.”
“That’s good, isn’t it?”
“Not really. It means I lack strength and confidence. At my level of competition, everyone is technically proficient. What separates the winners from the losers is the energy they bring on that day, where their head is at, really. I’m not much of a risk taker.”
“Something for you to work on. Tired?”
“Wired. I can’t fall asleep after a shift no matter how tired I am. I can’t get the fire out of my head. Yvette collapses like a puppy but I don’t. Whoa, those stars look close enough to touch.”
Aubrey ruffled her hair and Kerry felt like a cat about to purr. He took her hand and carved an arc with it across the night sky, sketching out the Big Dipper, Orion’s Belt, and the North Star. “And this constellation is the most important one to me, Ursa Major, the Great Bear. Do you see it?” Kerry retraced the shape.
“Good for you.” He kissed the top of her head. “I want to talk to you.”
“M-m-mmmm,” said Kerry. “We’re talking …”
“No, seriously.”
She turned herself around to watch his face. Was this about Yvette’s lighter?
“Do you believe in dreams?”
When she nodded, he continued. “I had a dream about a bear wearing a necklace of bear teeth dipped in blood, clawing at my window until I opened it. He told me that a hunter would pluck the eyes of the bear’s ancestors and run away with them across the sea.”
“What’s it mean?”
Aubrey shrugged. “I haven’t figured it out yet. It’s some kind of premonition.”
They sat in silence. Kerry was dying to ask him what happened at the meeting, but was afraid of the answer.
“Tomorrow there’ll be an announcement that we’re getting a new fire boss, and other new staff. Harcourt will be demoted, which should make him crankier than ever. I wanted to warn you because you’ll still be reporting to him.”
“Just great. Every day he’s worse than the day before. Is a new fire boss a good thing?”
“He’s from New Brunswick, which makes everybody nervous because he doesn’t know how we do things. It’s all very bizarre.”
“What’s bizarre is that Harcourt’s assigned this weird dude, Slash, to do the heavy lifting in the kitchen.”
“The excellent pay attracts all kinds, so be careful.”
Kerry yawned and nodded at the same time.
“I’m not getting much sleep either, worrying about bad things happening,” said Aubrey. He pulled her up into a standing position and put an arm around her waist to steady her. “I’ve been selfish keeping you out like this. It’ll be morning soon, and we’ll get to do it all over again.”
He led her back to her trailer and hugged her to him. “Good night, dancing girl. Stay safe.” He turned her around, pointed her toward the door, and waited until she was inside.
Kerry collapsed on her bed. Aubrey had kissed her head! He’d hugged her good night! She had to be dreaming. Oh no, I forgot to tell him Matt wanted to talk to him. Never mind, now I have an excuse to go looking for him.
She awoke hours later to rain plinking on the roof of the trailer and smoke wafting in from the open door, where Yvette was inhaling a cigarette as if she might turn it inside out. Kerry ran down the steps in her T-shirt and boxers, letting the water wash all the sweat and ash away. “It’s fantastic. Come on out.”
“You’re so stupid.”
“Because I want the fire to be over? I’ve had it with this place.”
Yvette started to flick her butt out the door but ground it out on the railing instead. She sighed. “I have to draw you a picture of everything.”
Kerry wiped wet hair out of her eyes. “Don’t we want rain?”
“Look toward the horizon. The damn lightning strikes are starting more fires. We’re never going to get out of here.”
“Shit! I’m so stupid.”
“In a lot of ways.”
“Meaning?”
“Come on, you have to know. Your mother never warned you about mixing races?”
Kerry looked at her partner for a long time before answering. Maybe she’d misunderstood what Yvette was saying, like so many things up here that she didn’t get. One part of her wanted to run away from this horrible question, and the other part wanted to high-kick Yvette into the lake. Finally she said, “I’m really hoping this has nothing to do with Aubrey.”
Yvette squinted. “It’s about you and Aubrey. You are crossing a line there.”
“I can’t believe you’re saying this.”
“This is a small bunch of people. Cut yourself off from the pack and you’ll never get back in.”
“I don’t care,” said Kerry defiantly, but she felt queasy.
“I care. Where you are, I am. What you do, I do just being your partner.”
“Piss off! You’re not me.” Kerry stalked back into the bedroom and Yvette followed her.
“Piss off yourself. That guy, he’s trouble, but you’re too naive to see it.”
“And you’re racist!”
Yvette folded her arms. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
“If you’re not, why do you have a thing about Aubrey?”
“I have experience. I don’t trust him. Why do you like him, anyway? Because you think he’s cute? Or because you think it’s romantic that he’s Metis? Is that how it goes in those dumb books you keep reading?”
Kerry bristled. “I like him because I like him. I get to do that, you know. I get to decide who I like. Who do you think you are?”
Yvette blinked like an owl. Then she shrugged and said, “Okay, you go on, get yourself in the middle of a shit storm. Do what you want.”
Kerry felt tears well up in her eyes. She turned and ran out into the rain and down the path to the girls’ outhouse, slammed the door, and barred it shut. She sat in the dark listening to the rain on the metal roof. Her dance friends would never believe that she was sitting here alone in a stinky bathroom. But where else could she get away from always, always being with Yvette?
How dare she tell me who I can be friends with? She’s probably jealous that Aubrey likes me. And she’s been striking out with Matt. She can go screw herself. And this Krazy Glue stuck-together thing is over. I’ve got one mother who drives me mental and she’s more than enough, thank you very much.
CHAPTER 11
K erry couldn’t tell one day from the next, especially now that she was talking to Yvette as little as possible. She was sure it was still July but beyond that she didn’t have a clue. She was thirsty all the time, and although she drank gallons of boiled water, her thirst was never satisfied. There was always a vertical line of sweat between her breasts, although she kept pulling her cotton T-shirt away from her skin and flapping it up and down.
It was almost impossible for
two girls to keep up with the dishes for three hundred men, even with the help of Slash and the other conscripts that Rolf managed to collar. Hour after hour they stood beside each other, washing and drying, washing and drying, rarely speaking. Besides, they’d run out of things to say.
This morning, Kerry’s entire body seemed to be encased in liquid salt. She could taste herself on her upper lip. “Are you hot, Yvette?”
“Hot hot, and not in a good way.”
Rolf’s supply requisition was on the table. Kerry picked up a pencil and added, “Two cans of baby powder. One large jar of petroleum jelly. Ice.” She swayed at the thought of smooth, soft baby powder sliding along damp flesh, between waistband and skin. She could conjure up the faint smell of it. Petroleum jelly could be slapped between thighs that rubbed together fourteen hours each day. It would also protect hands that spent too much time in water and bleach, and were beginning to crack along the knuckles in long, deep cuts that never healed.
Kerry added, “Gatorade and two pairs of white cotton gloves,” though she didn’t expect to get them. It would be so good to slip her jelly-slathered hands into gloves while she slept. Dream on. She pulled the neck of her shirt up over her nose like a bandit, to wipe away the droplets that sprinkled her upper lip.
“Oh ye of little faith,” Rolf said the next day, when he came through with everything on the list, including ladies’ gardening gloves and deep-conditioning hair treatment.
“When I get out of this hellhole, I’m going to make sure Mrs. Rolf knows what a great catch you are,” Yvette said.
Rolf was blushing. “I’m not sure she’ll want to hear that from you,” said Kerry.
“All right, you old goat, I won’t tell her. Merci beaucoup.” Yvette planted a big smacker on Rolf’s grizzled beard. The girls skipped out the door to try the new stuff, any hard feelings forgotten for the moment.
In the early afternoon, Rolf asked Slash to carry a hundred-pound sack of potatoes outside for the girls to peel. “You girls need some vitamin D. You’re looking peaked.”