by Darrel Bird
Part 7
As they walked out of the bush onto the Dalton highway Tessa asked, “Owen, what do we do now?”
“You go home now, but you can’t take the wolf with you.” He said, indicating the dog who sat on his haunches looking uncertainly at the first highway he had ever laid eyes on. He walked over and smelled it, then looked up at Tessa and whined.
“I’ll take him back where he belongs and where I belong, I’m going back to the cabin.”
“What? You can’t do that Owen!”
“I don’t belong in cities Tessa, I never have. I can and I will, now someone will be along shortly; this is a well-traveled road.”
She squatted down and pulled the wolf to her, and it licked her face profusely, “good-bye precious one; you will be safe with Owen.”
He kissed her lightly then turned around and walked back into the bush.
“Come on dog.”
The wolf started, then turned around and looked at Tessa, looked again after Owen, then followed on into the bush. Tessa stood alone by the roadway watching them go.
When they were gone; the silence on the road was crushing, but soon she heard the whine of tires on the pavement.
The pickup pulled up and stopped beside her, “Do you need a lift ma’am?” the man said looking strangely at the figure in torn, stained clothing and Eskimo boots.
“Yes thanks.”
She got into the truck and shut the door looking steadily at the spot where Owen, and the dog had entered the bush.
“Where are you heading?”
“Fairbanks.”
“You’re in luck today; that's where I’m going. What are you doing way out here alone?”
“Camping.”
“It must have been one hell of a camping trip from the looks of you.”
She glared at him, and he decided not to pursue that any further.
The man kept up a constant chatter as he drove, thankful for the company, she answered absently, but her mind was back in the Alaskan wilderness and this place with its highway and warm cab of the truck seemed strangely foreign to her.
In Fairbanks, she purchased new clothing and a travel case with her husband’s credit card, and then she carefully packed the snow boots Owen had made her in the travel bag.
“I want to keep these.” The rest of her old clothes she threw in the trash.
The hotel room felt so confining she felt she could hardly breathe. The next morning she dodged the newspaper people who were waiting for her at the front desk by slipping down the hall and out a side door.
She walked to an automatic teller and withdrew money on the credit card, then hailed a cab which took her to the airport.
The plane landed on the runway at LAX, and her husband stood in the concourse as she exited the plane.
The returned hug from her husband felt light, too light. Her welcome was not what she expected. It was as if she was hugging a stranger.
The trip to Alameda was short, and as she walked into the house, it didn’t look the same as she had left it at all. She felt as if she were swimming in thick soup.
She collapsed tiredly on the couch. She looked around the room for something familiar; the room wasn’t like she had left it, the couch was different, and everything she looked at was different.
“What’s happened Rick? Where are all my things?”
“Well, you know you’ve been gone 14 months, and we thought you were dead.” He sat with his drink in his hands rubbing the rim of the glass thoughtfully.
“Who did all this?”
“Ann Maywood, she has been helping out.”
Ann Maywood was the blonde divorcee who lived across the street; they had been friends up until the time she had left for the trip to see her sister.
She got up and walked into the bedroom, there was a night gown hanging on the bed post. The bed was not her bed; it was new. In the master bath, lipsticks and makeup were profuse, none of it the kind that she would select. She turned and walked back into the living room and sat down again.
“Do you want me to fix you something to drink?” He looked at her.
Anger suddenly boiled to the surface and lit a blaze in her that she couldn’t control.
“No damn it I don’t want anything to drink! I want my life back! I want my husband back! Just why in the hell is Ann Maywood’s night gown hanging on the bed I didn’t have when I left?”
She knew she was out of control and when she struggled to bring herself under control, the anger boiled even fiercer.
“Now honey, we thought you were dead.” He walked over to her to sit down by her, and she turned to him and snarled, “Well; I'm not dead you son of a bitch! Does it look like I’m dead?” She knocked the wine glass from his hand, and the drink sprayed over the room staining the new white carpet purple.
She picked up a lamp and slung it and the plate-glass patio door shattered, “Tessa, take it easy will you? I can explain!”
“You have explained enough! I’m leaving!”
“Where will you go? You belong here with us.”
”Us? Who? You and Ann?”
“Well…yes.” He said hesitantly expecting the next tirade, afraid of the next tirade. The woman he was facing was not the woman who had gotten on that plane.
“I want my life back, why has this happened?” She leaned on the couch arm and cried. He came over and started to lay his hand on her shoulder. She reached out and raked her nails across his face.
“Owww! Damn woman!” she looked on in horror as she saw the blood begin to run down his face.
“Get out! Go back to wherever the hell you came from, but get out!” He screamed.
She fled through the front door of the house to the street in horror at what she had done and stood looking back at the house as the door slammed shut.
She was shaking from head to toe. A neighbor walked out from around his house and saw her standing in the middle of the street.
“Can I help you Mrs. Parker? I heard what happened to you.”
“Fred, could you drive me to the airport please?”
“Sure, do you have a suitcase, I can help you with?” He asked awkwardly but kindly.
“No…nothing, uh, yes… wait.” She ran to the door, opened it and grabbed the travel bag with the boots in it. “Now we can go Fred.”
At the airport, Fred let her out in front of the concourse, “Good luck Mrs. Parker, will you be coming back soon?”
“No, I won’t be coming back Fred, good luck and God bless you.”
“God bless you Mrs. Parker. I’ll be praying for you.” He answered softly.
She didn’t look as her neighbor pulled away; she got through security then walked up to a ticket counter, “One way to Fairbanks Alaska please.” She handed the agent her husband’s credit card.