The motel was busy, with high-school basketball, volleyball, and minor hockey teams filling all available rooms on the two weekends she had been in Vanderhoof. In fact, when she called from Alberta checking on accommodations, the helpful woman at the desk had recommended she book a whole month, as finding an apartment could take some time, and the local motels were generally booked all winter for sports and industry.
Besides the athletic tournaments happening, Terry had seen handmade signs for a Seniors Bazaar, a ski club fundraising outside a grocery store, and the local news sheet on the tables of the motel restaurant included notices of a farm association meeting, a fundraising banquet for a kid’s camp, a Ducks Unlimited event, cattle auction, a local theater production, a snowmobile poker ride, a community Carol Sing, a barrel racing clinic, and more. A real variety for a small town.
It seemed like a nice place, but she wondered what the downsides were in a small northern community. Crime? Drugs? Racial issues? She wondered if she would like it here, if she stayed.
Outside town limits with coffee in hand, Terry accelerated to speed on the snow-covered highway. What a surreal week! She’d moved to Vanderhoof last Saturday and driven truck on unfamiliar roads for four days. After work on Thursday she’d been abducted and been to Jasper and back to Prince George on Friday. She’d spent Saturday morning with the RCMP, Saturday evening with a nice group of people, and now it was Sunday, and back to work tomorrow.
Well, she was glad to be safe, and suddenly wished for company on the quick trip to Prince George. It would be nice to spend the day with one of her brothers, or one of the cousins she had been close to as a kid. She sipped more coffee, blinking back tears. Sure, on the day she wore mascara! Just great.
The sun was bright, and a pair of sunglasses helped her eyes stop watering. Seeing several deer feeding in a field, she slowed back to speed limit, in case there were more.
There were snowmobile tracks in the wide cleared area between the highway and the trees. She passed several machines going west, a couple out with their children, the parents each with a small child riding double, little helmets bobbing, the swirl of snow behind the snowmobiles sparkling like diamond chips in the low morning sun.
Terry began looking for the side road leading to the lake where her captors had planned to drown her. She felt alone. For the first time she decided her upcoming meeting with a post-trauma counsellor was a good idea. “Get back on the horse, Terry!” she said aloud, and kept looking for a likely road to the south.
What she saw instead was a large cloud of snow, settling like dust, on the trail ahead. She was slowly catching up to a snowmobile. The guy was really moving! As she pulled alongside, she saw an older machine that had to be from the nineties with its vibrant purple and yellow graphics. The rider was wearing a matching jacket, and she could see it was as well worn as the machine, torn and grease-shiny. The rider glanced her way, then did a double take, lifting his left arm to wave.
She waved back. She saw the skis lift and heard the two-stroke motor wail as the rider pinned the throttle and left her behind. Within a minute, the sled was completely obscured by a cloud of snow, far ahead of her.
For sure it was a man, she smiled, or a large boy. She slowed. The snow machine was parked on a side road, steam rising from the tunnel, and the rider was waving her to stop, helmet in hand. She slowed, and as she passed the side road, she recognized Isaac La Crosse, the mechanic from work. She laughed out loud and reversed her pickup, then pulled forward off the highway.
He pulled a toque from his coat pocket and put it over his helmet hair.
“I thought it was your Dodge when I saw the license plate taped in the window. Figured I would flag you down.” He was breathing hard, high on the speed.
“You are crazy!” she said. “How fast is that thing?” She got out of the pickup, walking over to the snowmobile, loud even at idle.
“These old triples are amazing, when they’re not seized up,” he said. “Speedometer doesn’t work, no clue how fast she goes. Sure leaves the new mountain sleds in the dust though. Shorter track spins easy.”
He was speaking another language, and she laughed at him.
“No clue what you’re saying, but I know it’s fast. How old is it?”
“Well, the motor’s out of a ‘97 I got from…”
Oops. She realized she deserved the five-minute history lesson on the lineage of the machine and would be more careful in the future to avoid questions regarding snowmobiles or anything else the mechanic was passionate about.
“So, where are you going?” he asked her, switching off the noisy engine. The relative silence was a relief, and the two-stroke exhaust smell blew away in the slight breeze.
Terry waited for a string of traffic to pass and explained she was shopping for some work gear and wouldn’t be in Prince George too long. She told Isaac she was also looking for the road to the lake.
“Want some company?” he said, tipping his head slightly.
“What about your snowmobile?” She nodded at the purple machine, strangely animal-like as it crouched on the side of the road.
“Let’s load ‘er up, follow me.” Then he yanked the starter cord and disappeared around a corner in the road, the loud engine prompting Terry to cover her ears with gloved hands.
Shaking her head, she followed him up the side road. He was interesting, could be good-looking if he would lose the big metal-framed glasses and got a haircut. His intelligent gray eyes were magnified by his lenses. He looked like a... she thought about it… scientist? A doctor from an old movie? She giggled when she imagined him in a white lab coat.
Rounding a corner, she saw Isaac in a pullout next to half a dozen deserted pickups, some hitched to trailers, others with decks high above the ground. Isaac was pulling a loading ramp off one of the trailers and motioned for her to park.
She dropped the tailgate on her short box pickup as he walked across, dragging the aluminum ramp. Securing the straps, he loaded the purple beast, Terry cringing as the carbide runners on each ski scoured a furrow in the unblemished paint on the bed of her truck. Isaac returned the borrowed ramp.
“Guys park here all the time. If they have a security cam, all the better.” He made an obscene gesture in the direction of the parked vehicles, then walked over to an old red Ford, and reaching under the bumper, came out with a magnetic key holder.
“What are you doing!” Terry looked around worriedly. What if there were cameras! “Are you nuts?”
He grinned as he unlocked the driver’s door and reached behind the front seat, dragging out a tangle of ratchet straps.
“Just need to borrow something to tie down the sled. Can’t have it sliding out the back.”
“Whose truck is that? How did you know where the key is? You can’t just steal stuff!”
“Don’t worry about it, it’s my ex’s truck.”
“What!” Terry was horrified. She wished she hadn’t stopped. This guy was crazy. “Will she mind?”
“We won’t tell her, she hates my guts.”
Terry climbed back in the Dodge, and when Isaac had secured the machine with the straps and climbed in the cab, wiping his hands on his jacket, she beat a hasty retreat to the highway. What the heck!
Chapter 24
Back on the highway, Isaac was looking around the cab.
“Nice ride. So, you want to find the boat launch? It’s just a few klicks up the road.”
Isaac soon directed her to turn right and follow a snowy road for several kilometers. The road literally ended on the lake shore, with spurs leading left and right. Leaving the Dodge idling, Terry got out and walked through the fresh snow, looking through a gap in the trees to see the snow-covered ice extending several hundred feet, ending in open water. Several swans were floating, silent on the dark water. Swans here?
Isaac was checking the straps securing his snowmobile, allowing Terry some time to herself. He stood by the pickup until she turned, motioning for him to join her.
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“There are houses all along the lake.” He motioned with his head, sandy hair flattened by his helmet, holding his knit cap in a balled fist. Dogs started barking, probably the same ones she had heard recently in the dark. Thursday to Sunday. She had been helpless, now she was in control, strong companion by her side. On Thursday there was no snow, still autumn. Today there was close to a foot, definitely winter. On Thursday she had been fighting for her life, on Sunday she was going shopping.
The dogs came bursting through the trees, shouts from the house audible over their excited barking. A big shepherd cross and a pretty golden retriever bounded toward them, tails wagging, hanging back until they decided the intruders were safe. An ATV with a snowblade mounted on the front came down the road, and an older man in a thick plaid cloth coat and bright, red hat parked it in front of them.
He yelled at the dogs, who ignored him, sitting happily with Isaac. The retriever leaned on his leg, looking up adoringly.
“I was plowing my driveway when the mutts got away. Usually they are in the house. Always barking, drives a man around the bend. Then I looked over and I seen you down here, thought I’d come say hey.”
He was dressed in older clothes, clothes that looked like they may have been used on weekends for many years. The new hat stood out, and on closer inspection, Terry could see it was emblazoned with a gold crest and the letters RCMP.
“Nice hat.” she said.
The old guy grinned and took it off, looking at it under his glasses.
“Yep, she’s a nice one.” He put it back on his head.
“Always partying going on down here, summer for sure, sometimes in the fall too. Gets so loud down here we can’t even hear our own music with the dogs barking, people yelling.” He shook his head. “Just the other night they were yelling and screaming down here like you wouldn’t believe, just ridiculous.”
“That’s what I told those officers, first when I called in, then when they came out. Legalize pot and it all goes to pot!” He nodded with a grin, tipping his hat to his own humor.
Out of view Isaac grinned too. Terry was worried he would say something to stoke the guy up even further.
“They gave me this hat though. Actually, they’re doing a pretty good job, those cops. Maybe not wasting as much tax dollars as they used to. Got to crack down on the drug use, though.”
He reversed his ATV, then spoke to the dogs. “Come on, mutts, let’s get a snack.”
At the word snack, the dogs froze, then tails began to wag.
“Let’s go get a snack!”
The dogs leaped up, racing each other toward the house. They beat the old guy home, barking excitedly.
Terry smiled at the scene but was thinking about her close call. What if the lake had been deep, what if the dogs hadn’t barked, what if the men had killed her and dumped her body?
She shivered and went back to the truck. Isaac followed, and when she reached for the shifter, he put his big hand over it, stopping her.
“Wait. Tell me what happened here.”
She leaned back in the seat, hands in her lap, and told him what happened, and how it made her feel.
She was finished in several minutes, and he sat there nodding slightly.
“Well, you did everything right, didn’t you?”
When she nodded, he said, “Say it. You did everything right.”
“I did everything right.”
“Come on, say it like you mean it.”
“I did everything right!” she shouted.
“Heck, yeah! Say it again.”
“I did everything right!”
“Again!”
“I did everything right, all I could do!” Terry yelled.
Terry started laughing, feeling a weight lift. Shaking her head, she rammed the truck in reverse and turned around.
Back on the highway she looked over at Isaac. “You are one strange guy! Are you all this eccentric out here? Steak and lobster served in an equipment shop, the boss getting the kids to help him with free firewood for people, just to teach them to care about others, huh?”
She paused and glanced over again. “But hey, look at me! I just stopped and picked up a guy who looks homeless, and his snowmobile which should be homeless, and one of them has actually made me feel better. Crazy!”
He grinned, pulling his hat back over his thick hair. “Don’t worry about it. I’d do the same thing for a friend.”
She looked at him again, holding his eyes for a moment, “Thanks. I appreciate it.” She grinned at him. “Let’s go shopping. I need some stuff and you, my friend, are buying a new jacket.”
The day didn’t get any less strange, but she had to admit, it was a lot of fun. Isaac was a good companion. He didn’t hit on her and was easy to talk to. He was confident, Terry thought, and self-sufficient.
During her first stop, Terry looked out the workwear store window and saw another pickup backed up to hers, blocking all traffic in that aisle of the parking lot. Isaac and another guy dragged the purple snowmobile backwards into the other pickup, and a wad of cash changed hands. They talked some more, and Isaac removed his jacket and emptied the pockets, trading it for another bill.
Leaving her items, she hurried outside as the other truck pulled away, the purple beast regarding her reproachfully as it disappeared.
“You sold your snowmobile? And did you just sell your coat?”
“Sure did. You said I had to get a new jacket, and since it matched the machine, well, I sold them both.”
He held up a bundle of bills. “Dinner is on me.”
He headed into the store to buy a new jacket, Terry following along behind shaking her head. “Who just finds a buyer for a snowmobile in a parking lot, and sells a dirty old jacket to boot?”
He shrugged. “People like those old machines. Guy wanted to give me two grand, so away she went.”
“But now you don’t have a snowmobile. Will you buy another one?”
Looking through a sale rack, Isaac replied, “I have a few more at home, plus, that one was the wrong color. Had to get rid of it before Johnny saw it.”
She didn’t get it, so she left him to his sale rack and went back to the cart she had begun to fill.
In the early afternoon, Terry was surprised to meet Johnny and Mary in the Canadian Tire store and after a short chat, the four of them decided to meet for an early dinner.
Johnny was also surprised to see Isaac and Terry together, and chuckled, elbowing Mary.
“Mary, how did the two of them get together? I mean, they just met!”
Mary laughed, eyes sparkling.
“I can’t wait for dinner. There must be a story here!”
Leaning against him, she shook his arm, a mannerism he treasured – unless he was holding a drink.
“Johnny, I wish we were not going to work tomorrow, this has turned into a great weekend.”
She shook his arm again, shake-shake, the same squeeze and cadence hadn’t changed since they met.
“I love the sign so much. It makes me shiver to think ‘what if you forgot where it was stored’ or ‘what if it just got thrown away.’ Now it’s right where it belongs, and if we ever move, or build a new house, it goes with us.”
“The Amund Home,” Johnny said it aloud.
“I think it is more than just our house. Home, I mean.” She squeezed his arm, “What I mean is, home is wherever we are, you and me.”
“Like the atmosphere around us?”
“Yes, but it’s special in our own home.”
“You’ve got that right.”
He closed an eye in a prolonged wink.
“Johnny!”
They ate at a steakhouse in the afternoon and discussed the coming week. The food and companionship created an atmosphere of warmth Terry hadn’t experienced for a long time.
Terry watched the couple; they seemed close. Mary leaning against the big guy, touching his arm. She wondered how long they had been married.
She recounted d
etails of her day, and soon had them laughing.
Johnny was asking questions.
“So, you’re driving along, and you see Isaac here snowmobiling, and you pick him up?”
She nodded.
He narrowed his eyes.
“So where is his sled?”
“He sold it. He sold his old coat, too.”
“What? “He turned to Isaac. “Isaac, did you sell your mountain sled? Are you going to buy a real machine?”
Isaac said, “Just eat your food, Clown.”
Terry had to know; “Why does he call everybody ‘clown?’”
They laughed, but Johnny wouldn’t let the conversation get off track. “Terry, what did this snowmobile look like?”
“Well, it was purple, yellow decals too, looked real nineties. Why?
“Johnny burst out laughing, slapping the table.
“Isaac, you just sold the best machine you’ve ever owned!”
Isaac shook his head, “Nah, just an old junker.” He took a large bite of his steak sandwich.
Johnny was still laughing, but Mary rolled her eyes, “These juveniles always argue about which snowmobile brand is better. Like it even matters.” “Okay,” Terry got their attention, “If I’m going to work with you guys, I want to know a few things. First of all,” she indicated Isaac, as if he wasn’t there, “why does he always call people Clown? And why does he say clock all the time?”
Johnny laughed some more.
Later over coffee, Johnny was delighted to hear details of the snowmobile sale. “I haven’t laughed so much for years!” was his response when Terry told him about Isaac boosting the load straps from “his ex’s” truck.
She punched Isaac in the shoulder, hard, when she found out the red truck belonged to a sledding buddy, and the straps belonged to Isaac, and that Isaac had planned to use the red truck to haul the old sled to Prince George for a pre-arranged sale.
“Free ride!” He snorted with a grin. “Why drive the old rust-bucket when I could get a free ride in a new truck, with a mighty nice lady, I might add.”
Always a Brother Page 13