No Good Asking

by Fran Kimmel

  Her name was Mandy.

  Hannah put one hand on top of the box and rubbed it back and forth. “She loved to hide.”

  “Yes, she did,” his dad said, as if he had known the cat personally.

  “What was her favourite hiding spot?” Daniel asked.

  “My bed. She could flatten herself under the covers so she hardly made a ripple. She loved bags too. If I put a paper bag on my floor, she’d crawl inside. She was so cute when she did that.”

  Max’s family had a huge black-and-white cat that didn’t like anybody. In all the times Daniel had been to Max’s house, he’d only seen the cat once as it was streaking across the living room and diving under the couch.

  “What colour was she?” Daniel asked.

  “Black mostly,” Hannah said. “She was really pretty.”

  Daniel wanted to be able to picture the cat when he sat under the apple tree. If Hannah couldn’t be here, he’d visit for her.

  “She had long black fur and three white paws and a patch of white on her forehead and green eyes, same as Sammy’s.”

  Before they’d come into the yard, Daniel had rehearsed what he’d do if Hannah started to cry: stand close and keep his mouth shut, pass her the wad of Kleenex he’d stuffed in his pocket. He’d seen Hannah cry twice already—once when his dad carried her up from the cellar and once when she broke that glass of water. He didn’t want it to happen again.

  “I’m ready,” Hannah said, breaking their silence, her voice not the least bit scratchy. She was dry-eyed as she got to her knees and lowered the box to the ground.

  Alarmed to find his cheeks wet, Daniel needed something to hang on to. He did not expect to be the one to cry. As Hannah reached down into the hole and cupped spoonfuls of earth over her cat, he just stood there, clinging to the shovel as if it were the only thing keeping him from blowing away.

  —

  Betty arrived a few minutes early, wearing a felt hat with tassels and a Santa Claus ornament stuck on with a safety pin.

  “Ho, ho, ho,” she belted out as soon as Eric let her in. Thorn went lumbering down the hall, pretend growling, stupid and sleepy from his guard duties in front of Hannah’s closed door.

  Betty squeezed Eric hard. Thorn tried to get between them but settled on sniffing the backs of her pant legs.

  Ellie came up behind the pair, reluctantly ready to shake Betty’s hand when the woman untangled from her husband, but Betty whipped around and squeezed Ellie too, her large breasts jamming against her like water-filled balloons.

  “Thought any more about what we talked about?” Betty whispered in Ellie’s ear, not letting her go. “You know you’ve done a good thing here, you and Eric.”

  Ellie fought back tears, wanting to push her away, but she held on tight and they just stood like that, pressed together, for the longest time.

  “Hi, Mrs. Holt,” Daniel said. He’d come up from the basement two stairs at a time, but when he saw his mom getting bear hugged, he stopped short of the entryway and kept a safe distance.

  Betty released Ellie and laughed, looking over at Daniel. “You’ve grown an inch since Friday! And you promised to call me Betty.”

  Daniel blushed deeply, smiling.

  “Santa good to you? No lumps of coal?”

  “No lumps this year.”

  “Didn’t think so.” Betty peered into the room and yelled loudly. “Hi, Sammy, Walter!” Sammy ignored her. He sat close to the tree, rearranging his soldiers on another branch. “You boys look snug as bugs on a rug. Merry Christmas!”

  “Sammy’s come down with the sniffles,” Ellie said. “Too much excitement these past few days.”

  Walter hadn’t looked up from his puzzle. “You can turn around and let yourself out,” he yelled. “Already got a nurse.”

  Daniel snorted. “She’s a social worker, not a nurse, Grandpa.”

  “Hah! Don’t need a social worker.”

  “Dad, it’s Betty Holt,” Eric said. “Ida Holt’s daughter-in-law.”

  Ellie willed Hannah to stay in her room and out of the open. Ellie wanted to be out of the open too, behind her closed door, under a pile of covers where she couldn’t see the girl be taken away.

  Walter scratched his balls, his arm moving up and down vigorously under his table. “She here to fix the furnace?”

  Eric sucked in his breath and stepped sideways, shielding Betty from more. “Walter thinks the furnace is on the fritz.”

  Betty laughed openly. “Winter is on the fritz if you ask me. That was some storm. And you could shingle the fog out there today. But I’m handy with a wrench if you’ve got a problem in the basement.”

  Ellie wanted to get them out of the entryway, away from the door, away from the sight of Betty’s SUV, still running in the driveway. “Can you come in for a minute, Betty?”

  “Thanks, Ellie, but no. Hannah and I should get going. I told the Baxters we’d be there before one. They’re waiting lunch on us.”

  “Mom already made Hannah’s lunch,” Daniel said, sounding defensive. “Sandwiches and cookies.”

  “You did?” Betty looked past Ellie to the empty countertop. “Well, that’s just so thoughtful.”

  “It’s to eat in the car,” Daniel added, not willing to let it go.

  “It’s not a big deal, Danny.” Ellie moved away from Betty, who looked as if she might grab her again. Hannah still hadn’t come out of her room, despite Betty’s deafening voice and Walter yelling about this and that.

  Ellie looked to Eric for support, but he stood there stiffly, his feet planted far apart, as if he could feel the foundation of the old farmhouse shift beneath him. He’d been seriously off-kilter ever since they’d buried Hannah’s cat. Earlier that morning, Ellie had found him sitting on the edge of their bed, hands on his knees, staring at the wall.

  “A hobby farm,” he’d said. “That’s where we’re sending her. What kind of quacks raise ostriches in this climate?”

  Ellie steeled herself to go fetch Hannah when the girl’s door opened. She wore her new Christmas sweater and pulled the battered suitcase behind her. Her eyes were too clear, looking right through them.

  Thorn left Betty’s side and pranced over to Hannah, nudging her thigh until she bent and scratched under his chin. Sammy hopped to his feet too, lured by the rumble of the suitcase wheels, soldiers in both fists.

  “Can I pull?” Sammy asked.

  Hannah smiled at Sammy, handing him the suitcase handle. “Put your soldiers on top and they can go for a ride.”

  Walter called out, “Done the sky.”

  “That’s the hardest part,” Hannah called back.

  Sammy wrangled with the suitcase, pushing and pulling until the soldiers tumbled down and got caught in the wheels, the suitcase falling sideways, banging to the floor. Daniel marched over, retrieved Sammy’s soldiers from under the wheels, and set the suitcase right again.

  “Pull slowly, Sammy,” Daniel ordered. “Then they won’t fall off.” He turned to Hannah, fingering the angel under his t-shirt.

  “My bird is in its box, in the zippered pocket,” she said, as if he’d asked the question. “I’m going to get a chain for it. Someday.”

  “Here’s my cell phone number,” he said, passing her a folded piece of paper. “In case you’re allowed to call.”

  Hannah took the paper and led the procession toward the cold entryway, toward the decision makers in charge of her, her eyes moving from one adult to the other.

  Ellie couldn’t bear to look at her tearless face. If she would only show it, the wretchedness of this moment, Ellie’s instincts might kick in. They might think to place an arm on a shoulder or squeeze a hand.

  But Hannah seemed all business now, matter-of-fact. “I’m ready to go.”

  No one said anything, so Betty jumped in. “All right then. No sense in long goodbyes. W
ith luck, the car might even be warmed up. I swear some days I could drive to California and see my breath the whole way.”

  Hannah turned and took one last look about the room. “Thank you,” she said, a small tremble in her voice. “Thank you.”

  “You’ve still got my card?” Eric asked.

  Hannah patted her jeans pocket.

  “You should take the sandwiches.” Daniel rushed to the fridge, pulled out the large paper bag, and brought it over to the group. “There are cookies too.”

  “We’ll have a picnic on the way,” Betty said, taking the bag. “Back-to-back lunches are good for the body. And Hannah and I can just nibble if we want to when we get to the Baxters.” Again, no one else said a word, so Betty filled the silence. “Never hurts to surprise the digestive tract, mix it up a bit, keep it on its toes.”

  Hannah pulled her new jacket out of the closet. Eric held it up for her as she reached in the sleeves, first one arm and then the other. Ellie passed her the bubbly knitted scarf with the bright colours, one of Myrtle’s cheerier creations. Hannah wrapped it twice around her neck and tied the ends together.

  Eric slipped on his jacket too, not bothering with zippers and gloves.

  He turned to Sammy. “Okay, slugger. Let’s have it.”

  Sammy had his small arms wrapped around the suitcase, now standing upright, soldiers resting on top. He refused to budge, fingers squeezed white tight along the edges of the scruffy canvas.

  “Come on now, Sammy, we need to get Hannah’s things out to the car,” Eric said.

  Hannah got down on her knees, level with Sammy’s face, not too close. She held the soldiers in her fingers and marched them across the top of the suitcase and through the air. Sammy clung to the sides of the suitcase.

  “You need to take these guys back to the tree. There could be a battle. These are your best guards.”

  Sammy repeated her request word for word. He finally let go and flapped his arms, then reached out and took the soldiers from her. She smiled at him and stood, reaching for the handle. But he didn’t move away, just stayed right there and wailed.

  Daniel looked down at the floor and rocked back and forth on his sock feet.

  Ellie had become paralyzed, unable to move the parts below her neck, wanting to comfort her boy, both her boys, all her boys.

  Walter came clunking across the floor then, pounding his cane with each step. “You going on a holiday?” he yelled to Hannah. “Again?” raising his voice a notch to drown out Sammy’s sobs.

  Eric turned around, blocking Walter from getting too near.

  Hannah said to Betty, “I think we should go. We should go right now.”

  “I think you’re right,” Betty said, starting toward the door.

  “I’ll take your suitcase to the car,” Eric said.

  Hannah said, “No, please don’t. Please don’t come with us.”

  Ellie watched Hannah pull the suitcase past their ragged group. Then Hannah turned and glanced back at her. Their eyes locked for a second, a look of pleading. A look of possibility. Ellie could feel its spark burn a hole through the centre of her chest.

  —

  A whoosh of frigid air slammed into Hannah’s face, Sammy’s sobs getting fainter as she bumped down the stairs. The suitcase was too heavy and the wheels spun in the unevenly packed snow, so Betty came up beside her, Ellie’s giant lunch bag in one hand, and the two of them half dragged, half carried the suitcase to the back of the car. Together, they heaved it up into the trunk and wiped off the snowy bits before Betty slammed the door hard.

  Betty told her to hop in the front seat and hurry quick, faster than a fart in a skillet, because it was so bloody cold they’d be sure to freeze their lady parts, so Hannah slipped in and closed her door and waited for Betty to get her out of there. She kept her head down, concentrating on the shape of her fingers, not wanting a last glimpse of the family she was leaving.

  Betty arranged herself, her seat pushed forward to accommodate her short legs.

  Please, please, please don’t talk to me, Hannah thought. Betty must have heard her wish because she didn’t say a word as she backed the car down the driveway.

  But then Betty slammed hard on the brakes before the curve near the end of the driveway, causing the car to zig back and forth, hurling Hannah against her shoulder strap. Hannah swung her head around to look out the back window toward the main road, thinking they’d crashed into a moose or a deer, but she could see nothing in the sea of fog to cause such a sudden stop.

  “I’ll be damned,” Betty said, staring straight ahead, lips turning up into a smile.

  Hannah looked out front too, toward the house. There was Ellie, running out of the mist, coatless, slipping to her knees on the icy path, picking herself up again, barrelling now, getting closer, Eric behind, trying to catch up, her coat in his arms.

  “Wait! Wait,” Ellie yelled, flailing her hands to get them to stop, though they were clearly stopped. There was nowhere to go.

  Acknowledgements

  I am deeply grateful to Stephanie Sinclair, my lovely agent, for her belief in me and this book and for making me feel like I’m the centre of her universe. The entire team at ECW Press has been stellar, and I so appreciate their unwavering dedication to producing beautiful books. A special thanks to my wonderful ECW editor, Jen Knoch, who is the best of the best and has worked so hard to help me find the right words.

  I owe much to the warm and welcoming writing community in this province. The Writers’ Guild of Alberta in particular has given me so many rich and lasting friendships. Many of this book’s pages were written at Strawberry Creek Writing Retreats, an unplugged and sacred space tucked into the misty woods near Edmonton. I’m in debt as well to the Banff Wired Writing Program and Marina Endicott, who miraculously shepherded me through my first “god awful” draft with patience and wisdom. Heartfelt thanks to Leslie Greentree, Astrid Blodgett, and Audrey Whitson for offering suggestions and providing the right kind of encouragement. Thanks to Patricia Anderson for her keen editorial eye.

  I gratefully acknowledge the Alberta Foundation for the Arts and the Canada Council for the Arts for their financial support.

  Big love to my family, especially my dearest girls, Breanna and Megan, and my great love, James Leslie. You are my home and the light in my world.

  Book Club

  Discussion Questions

  Are you reading this selection in your book club or planning to? Here are some questions about No Good Asking to help spark your discussion.

  How does winter’s shadow fall over the novel in terms of the storyline and atmosphere?

  Ellie wants to move to Neesley so the family can have a fresh start, but what new challenges does the move create? What problems can’t they escape?

  Who is your favourite character and what draws you to them? Is there a character you dislike, and do they have redeeming qualities?

  Hannah has been through such hardship and yet she still seems resilient. What influences throughout her childhood have helped shape her thoughts and actions?

  Before Hannah arrives, how does each member of the family view Sammy? How does Hannah change these views?

  How does Ellie see herself, and how does it differ from how others see her? What is your impression of Ellie? Do you become more or less sympathetic toward her as the story unfolds?

  As a relationship develops between Daniel and Hannah, how do they each benefit?

  How are Eric’s and Ellie’s parenting styles different? Why might they be that way?

  Eric describes Christmas as the deepest of blue for Ellie. Why does she have such a difficult time coping during Christmas?

  How would you describe the marriage and power dynamic between Eric and Ellie? How does Hannah’s presence affect their relationship?

  When Ellie stared at the tattered raven, “she couldn�
��t understand the mechanics, how the bird stayed upright, its skinny claws attached to the wire.” What other birds did you notice in the book and how are they meaningful?

  How does the small-town setting and the isolation of the Nyland road affect the story? How would the story have played out differently in an urban setting?

  Consider the title: how do you see it reflected in the book?

  No Good Asking contains many small gestures with big emotional resonance. Was there a moment you found particularly poignant?

  Are you satisfied with the ending? What do you think will happen next for these characters?

  About the Author

  Fran Kimmel is the author of The Shore Girl, which was named a CBC Top-40 Book and won the Alberta Readers’ Choice Award in 2013. Fran’s short stories have appeared in literary journals from coast to coast and have twice been selected for The Journey Prize Stories anthology. Born and raised in Calgary, Fran now writes and teaches in Lacombe, AB.

  DISCOVER ONLINE

  A daring post-apocalyptic novel from a powerful rising literary voice

  With winter looming, a small northern Anishinaabe community goes dark. Cut off, people become passive and confused. Panic builds as the food supply dwindles. While the band council and a pocket of community members struggle to maintain order, an unexpected visitor arrives, escaping the crumbling society to the south. Soon after, others follow.

  The community leadearship loses its grip on power as the visitors manipulate the tired and hungry to take control of the reserve. Tensions rise and, as the months pass, so does the death toll due to sickness and despair. Frustrated by the building chaos, a group of young friends and their families turn to the land and Anishinaabe tradition in hopes of helping their community thrive again. Guided through the chaos by an unlikely leader named Evan Whitesky, they endeavor to restore order while grappling with a grave decision.