Always a Brother

by Michael Shenk

  After Mary had collected the dishes and refilled the mugs of coffee, she told them they had fifteen minutes to soak and then they had better get out and prepare for the day. When the allotted time had passed and there was no sign of movement from the trio, and their demands for more coffee grew too obnoxious, she left her magazine on the coffee table and went outside to assault them with shovelfuls of powdery snow. The exit was rapid and punctuated with groans and threats as her family slipped and staggered barefoot back into the cabin to dress.

  The mood was light as they drove the sleds out of the trailer and checked them over before hitting the trail. The fleecy overcast was torn, revealing a few slivers of blue sky and they all checked for their sunglasses.

  The riding was outstanding, and even though the sun was low in late December, the footage from Mary’s camera would be treasured for years, the brilliance of blue sky, white snow and clouds, and rich green of the coniferous trees a perfect backdrop for a family adventure.

  They ate lunch earlier than planned, taking a break as the boys tried to fix the damage Al’s machine incurred when he miscalculated a jump and jammed a ski into a tree trunk, ten feet above the snow. Mary had caught the whole incident on her helmet-cam, and she and Joanne teased the men as the two huddled together to watch the footage. They watched and re-watched the video, hooting with laughter each time and using slow-motion to help identify where some of the missing pieces of the machine landed. Al was not hurt and kept reminding them about the spare cab for his machine, purchased on Boxing Day, waiting back at the trailer.

  The front of the ski was broken off but using ingenuity and pieces of broken cab, they MacGyvered the big Polaris for the trip down the mountain. It was far too early to return home, and sore muscles had been forgotten. Johnny turned his Ski-Doo over to Al and doubled with Mary, the new tandem seat coming in handy. Adjusting the suspension to the highest setting, they spent the next few hours exploring trails, taking photos, and teaching the women how to set up for and land a jump.

  Daylight and fuel were running low, and picking up Al’s machine, they had an uneventful ride back down the mountain.

  Before leaving in the morning, Mary had skillfully loaded a slow cooker and they feasted on barbeque ribs before spending a few hours under the stars in the hot tub, appreciating the clear sky, bright stars, whir of wind combing the pines, and the warmth that came from being a family.

  “Dad, I bet I can run around the truck and trailer and back faster than you!”

  Al began climbing out of the spa, and Mary launched over the side and sprinted barefoot through the snow, steam rising, shrieking. Al splashed back into the water, chuckling.

  “Hey! No fair!” Mary picked up a handy shovel and flung an arc of loose snow over the group, catching Al and the others.

  This led to more snow being dumped on those in the hot tub, and then Mary being tossed kicking and squealing into deep powder by her dad and husband. Sliding back into the tub shivering. Mary insisted they all climb out of the tub and make snow angels. Skin burning from the icy snow, they clumsily dropped back into the hot tub with yells or squeals.

  When order was restored, and all were back in their places in the hot water, Johnny leaned back, eyes closed, and savored his good fortune.

  Several bottles of wine had been chilling, forgotten in the snow, and Al leaned over to retrieve one. Mary refused a glass, opting for hot chocolate from the thermos. At the questioning look from her father, she explained. “Johnny and I want to start a family; no alcohol for me for a while.”

  “How exciting!” Joanne handed Al her glass, leaning over to hug Mary. “I’m so happy for you! And us!”, she added.

  Johnny laughed at Al, who threw his head back and howled like a wolf, “I’m gonna be a Grandpa, woo hoo!”

  Four bottles of wine later, the toasts had turned from motherhood and grandchildren to the boys toasting the hot tub, free enterprise, and Al’s broken ski. Mary and Joanne retreated to the house, disassociating themselves with the ridiculous celebrations, assuring their husbands they would bring more wine soon. The men spent twenty minutes discussing what kind of small snowmobile would be best for the Amund child, and they yelled for Mary to tell them whether the first child would be a boy or a girl, and where was the wine?

  When they came dripping into the house much later, grinning sloppily, the women were already asleep, and they soon followed suit, leaving a trail of wet towels and empty bottles. Before retiring, they were careful to bring in the garbage can, which they placed on the kitchen table, reasoning that if a bear came out of hibernation several months early and figured out how to open the cabin door, he wouldn’t be able to get into it and make a mess if the garbage was high on the table. Noticing all the water on the floor, they diligently put all the winter boots outside in the cold, as they had to be responsible for the huge mess no one had noticed earlier.

  Joanne woke first the next morning, and her reaction to the dark shape hulking on the table woke the rest of the sleepers in the cabin immediately. Al mumbled something about bears, then thought about what he was saying and clammed up, starting the coffee pot without adding coffee.

  Al and Johnny denied having headaches, refused the offered medication and an early breakfast, and at first chance headed outside coatless to get the sleds ready, cleaning up the empty beer cans scattered around the hot tub and sharing a handful of aspirin stashed in the SUV.

  Later at breakfast, Mary noticed there were no boots by the door, and Al sheepishly brought them in and set them by the wood stove to warm. Laughter ensued, and by the time bellies were full, hearts had been lightened, and they all agreed the future Amund child had been duly celebrated. Mary had a brief chill when she thought of the celebration that may occur when the first child actually appeared, but she shrugged it off, guessing she would have much more to deal with than a husband with a hangover.

  The men retreated as the breakfast dishes were washed with much banging, citing the need to finish replacing Al’s broken ski. Quietly they replaced the aftermarket skis with the stock skis Al had stowed in the trailer. Replacing the tools carefully in their trays, they trooped back in to dress for the ride.

  Joanne grinned at Mary as they joined their husbands outside, indicating the bright yellow earplugs protruding from their ears as they pulled their helmets on, red-rimmed eyes squinting in the bright morning light before dark glasses and hastily closed visors obscured them.

  Mary was not surprised when Johnny motioned for her to take his sled, or when he climbed gratefully onto her smaller machine with the quiet stock exhaust.

  Leading the way up the now-familiar trail, Mary smiled back at the friendly sticker on the windscreen and had to admit it would be fun to see their children riding little machines of their own. When Johnny pulled up beside her in a wide portion of trail, Mary smiled at him, then pinned the throttle. The skis lifted, the fighter-jet scream of the exhaust causing Johnny to wince and pull away, floundering through the deep snow and trees beside the trail as she disappeared up the mountain, Hello Kitty cheering her on.

  Chapter 37

  Several weeks following the Christmas trip to Fernie, Mary wanted to do something special for Johnny. Ever since they had moved into their house, she’d noticed that Johnny had changed little in the workshop. It seemed to her that Johnny acted like he was borrowing the space, rather than treating it as something he owned. She respected his memory of his uncles but decided she would spend some time cleaning up clutter in the small building.

  After work one afternoon, she changed into her chore clothes and sipped a cup of tea as she walked to the workshop, checking to make sure she had her Banks Mountain cell phone with her. Her horses were at the feeder, “burning hay” as Johnny put it, scruffy in their winter coats.

  She found the attachments for the shop vacuum and began cleaning in one corner. The tools had their own places, several newer purchases leaning in a corner. She stacked small scraps of wood by the stove, and looked at the mag
azine photo of the sword, wondering what the significance was to the man who pinned it on the wall. Did he miss his homeland? Had his mother told him a bedtime story involving the weapon? Had a relative found the artifact on their property? She smiled to herself and shivered, not wanting to start a fire in the unfamiliar stove.

  She vacuumed the dust and sawdust from each wooden drawer under the work-bench. The third drawer stuck, wedged half open, and she knelt, using her phone’s flashlight to investigate the deep drawer. Something was hanging down into the drawer, and reaching in, she felt a wooden box that had been taped to the underside of the workbench. The tape seemed to have loosened, blocking the drawer.

  Curiosity aroused, she peeled off the tape and pulled the dusty box gingerly out of the drawer.

  Placing the box on the workbench in front of the window, she wiped off the dust with a cloth. It was handmade, sanded smooth, complex joints not quite perfect. The box had been stained dark, the finely grained wood almost black. The lid didn’t have a hinge. She looked closer and could see it was in a slot. Mary slid it carefully open and set the lid on the dust cloth. On a small sheet of lined paper was a note. In careful letters were the words, “For Johnny.”

  The contents were fascinating. There was a short stack of hockey cards, several little toy tractors, a few rubber balls, a small toy airplane. In the corner was a tiny red book, a Gideons Bible. There was a jack knife and a whet stone, far smaller than the one Johnny had used to sharpen the axe. Lifting out the Bible carefully, she saw it looked new, unused.

  Something protruded from the pages, and careful to keep the place, she pulled it out. It was not a bookmark, but a photo of a stern yet handsome woman. She held the photo toward the light. The woman was not as old as her clothing and demeanor suggested. Turning the photo, she read the faint inscription. The first line simply said, “Mother, early 40s,” followed by a question mark. The second line read “favorite verse, Psalm 46:1.”

  Mary’s hands were shaking as she paged gingerly through the little Bible and read the first verse of the forty-sixth Psalm: “God is our refuge and strength, a very present help in trouble.”

  She turned to another bookmark, pulling out a photo of a big man of middle age, each arm on the shoulders of a boy. She was shocked at their resemblance to Johnny. This photo was in color, though very faded, the sober face of the man reflected in the expressions of the boys. The three were posed on the deck of a ship, harbor buildings behind them under overcast sky.

  Turning the photo, she read, “Lars, Pa, Nelsson,” and below these words were written “Psalm 40:1-3.” Finding the place, Mary read: “I waited patiently for the Lord and he inclined unto me and heard my cry. He brought me up also out of an horrible pit, out of the miry clay, and set my feet upon a rock, and established my goings. And he hath put a new song in my mouth, even praise unto our God, many shall see it and fear, and shall trust in the Lord.”

  What terrible experiences had these people endured? Though the passages were comforting, what troubles or hardships would make them favorites? What was so terrible in their past that had inspired them to cry out to God for help? Mary hadn’t read the Bible, but knew it was a source of strength for many.

  Mary’s thoughts moved on; there was another photo in the book. She pulled it out and was thrilled to find a picture of Johnny. He was young, staring seriously at the camera, shirt buttoned high on his throat, hair slicked down. Turning it over, she read, “Johnny 10 years. 5 grade.”

  She was disappointed there was no scripture reference; neither he nor his uncles had a chosen verse. She had hoped for something positive for them. Replacing the photo and the book in its corner, she noticed the box was deeper than the compartment she was exploring. There were several tiny, hand-carved pegs inserted through the bottom of the compartment. Carefully removing these, she slid the false floor out in the same manner as the lid had come off. In the shallow space at the bottom of the box was a folded piece of paper.

  Mary knew she might be violating Johnny’s privacy, and she took a breath before deciding to unfold the page. She saw it was a letter, handwritten in blue ink.

  Dear Brothers,

  I hope you are well, and that life is treating you fine. A great tragedy has come into my life, and I want you to know the true facts.

  Thank you brothers, for sending me money for university. I also appreciated your hospitality when I came out there to live but simply was not happy there. I began to work in real estate when I came here and was off to a good start.

  I received the same training from our parents as you. Father taught me that sometimes a man must do a thing he very much wants to avoid regardless of the cost. Mother taught me that troubles will come and we must make plans to overcome them. I have tried to live like this but may have failed.

  Selling real estate was going well. I showed a farm property to a man and received a message that he wanted to purchase the land and wanted to meet me at the property the following morning to sign papers and conclude the deal. I was happy for a quick sale and met him at the time he requested. When I arrived he was waiting at the table on the porch. While we were signing papers, I heard a noise inside. He told me I was hearing things, but then I heard it again. He tried to stop me from going inside, but I went in anyway and ran up the stairs. In one of the bedrooms I found a woman who was tied up. She had been beaten, and had a shirt tied over her mouth. I untied her and went back downstairs. The man tried to laugh it off. He said she was a prostitute he had brought out with him and had given him trouble. When she came down she confirmed this and said how when he was drunk the night before had bragged how he had killed at least six women like her and how would she like to be next?

  He tried to leave but I made him sit down. I gave the woman his keys and she drove away. Then he said it was true he had killed other women but there was no proof and he would never get caught. He told me he would pay me a lot of money if I just forgot about it. Then he bragged how he wanted to get rid of as many as possible and make the world a better place. I told him he was crazy and he attacked me so I strangled him.

  I would have got away with it probably, but after I had him partly buried I saw he was wearing a nice shirt. This man was a monster, he deserved no brothers, and therefore his back should be bare. So I took it off. I was shaking and crazy myself. Stupid, I know.

  The woman went straight to the police, and they came. If I would have left sooner they wouldn’t have caught me or found the body.

  I am not sorry, it needed to be done. I will overcome this problem. Do not try to contact me. I will change my name. I wish I had known you better. I was always proud of you and the way you sent money to Mother after Father died. She was proud of you too.

  Even though I will never see you again I will always know I had brothers, real brothers. I know you would have been proud of me soon if this hadn’t happened, and I will regret it every day forward.

  You have no children, and neither will I. I am sad the Amunds will be no more, we were a good family, strong brothers to many. Mother and Father did not deserve everything that happened.

  With love, and for the last time,

  Svend Amund, your brother.

  Mary refolded the letter and reassembled the box and its contents. Returning to the house, she thought she was beginning to understand the story. She called Johnny and asked him to come home.

  She brewed fresh coffee and sat in the living room, thinking while she waited, the wooden box alone on the kitchen table.

  Chapter 38

  Johnny was at the parts store, returning a starter core, when he received Mary’s call. It was mid-afternoon, and he hadn’t taken time to eat lunch. It would only take a few minutes and he knew there was leftover chicken casserole in the refrigerator, so after loading the parts in the bed of his pickup, he headed straight home.

  He guessed the horses had escaped and Mary needed a hand. When he parked in the driveway, he noticed the door to his workshop was open and took the time to walk over a
nd close it before going to the house.

  He ran his hand across their sign as he passed it, a habit formed in recent weeks. He liked coming home.

  Mary was waiting in the kitchen with two cups of coffee, and a wooden box. He stared at the box.

  “Where did you get that?” his voice was flat. He walked forward, not seeming to want an answer, lifting the object from the table, turning it in his big hands, sliding the lid open.

  He just stood there, looking at the box, rubbing the wood. He sat down, placing the box back on the table, sliding the lid in and out.

  “Where’s all the letters?” He looked more carefully at the contents. “Hey, my tractors!” He pulled out the green one, rolling it on the table, rubber tires making no noise as he moved it back and forth. “Where did you find this? Uncle Lars kept family letters in this box. He kept it on his nightstand.”

  Mary could see Johnny was moved by the familiar object. She pushed his cup of coffee closer to him. He ignored it, setting the tractors in a neat row on the table: green, yellow, red, blue. She guessed it was some sort of familiar order.

  “Johnny, today I decided to clean up your workshop.” She paused at his look of alarm. “Don’t worry, I didn’t throw anything out. I took the tools and stuff out of the drawers, one at a time so nothing got mixed up, and vacuumed out the dust. When I got to the third drawer, the one with the container of big spikes in the front, it wouldn’t open all the way.”

  She indicated the tacky residue on the sides and bottom of the box.

  “This was taped up to the bottom of the workbench. The tape toward the back had come loose and the box had dropped down and was jamming the drawer. So, I pulled it out and brought it inside. Johnny, I looked at everything.”

  Mary was worried. She guessed Johnny had never seen the hidden letter, didn’t know the details it shared. She had a terrible feeling it could set off a deep depression in her husband.