He quickly assessed the damage, realizing Mary had side-wiped something, probably after the rear tire blew, and just spun her way out of the jam in four-wheel drive.
“Johnny, it was terrible! I must have run over something under the snow, and then by the time we had hooked up the trailer I didn’t notice the tire was flat.” Johnny had kept his cool, until more details came out. Even then, he expressed anger only at the man who had sold her friend the trailer and left the women to navigate a snow-covered field and then attach the trailer surrounded by farm equipment.
When Mary handed Johnny her phone with the address and phone number of the farmer who had demanded she pay for damage to his baler, Johnny found an outlet for his frustration.
Johnny called the man immediately, even though it was late, and his volume and intensity changed the man’s mind. After the now-contrite man had apologized to Mary and promised to pay for a new tire, all Johnny had been able to think of through the red haze, and to drop any expectation that Mary owed him, things began to calm down. Soon the neighbor’s dogs had stopped barking and several lights went back off in the closest houses. A large man pacing under his yard light and bellowing into a phone held at arm’s length had ruined the sleep of a few and provided juicy gossip the next morning in the coffee shops.
“Yep, that Amund boy, he sure takes care of his woman! I mean, did you see his truck? That jerk in Alberta better not ever show his face around here! Yeah, I heard it straight from Johnny. Well, no, he wasn’t actually talking to me, but I could hear him from his yard, clear as could be, even over my dogs yapping.”
Mary had sobbed openly as they looked at the truck together, shaken by her husband’s tirade, impressed by the authority that had not been lessened in his anger and secure in the knowledge he was her protector. When Johnny started laughing, aiming the lights of Mary’s car on the truck so he could take photos, she knew it was going to be okay.
“You’re telling me the tire popped, so you just held ‘er down and dragged that trailer out of the field?” He photographed the clumps of mud and grass, still frozen in the wheel wells after the nine-hour drive, chuckling the whole time, anger spent.
He smacked the cold metal. “So, my baby here hauled that trailer out of the snow, even with a flat tire?” He had moved to another angle, looking at the damage caused by the heavy rubber tire disintegrating, swinging off its rim like several forty-pound clubs.
“Was the trailer okay?”
“It had some scratches, kind of took off the fender.”
She motioned to the front of the truck where the grill was marred by deep scratches that ran around both sides, continuing down the sheet metal.
“What happened here, did you drive through a fence?”
“Well, I didn’t want to stop the truck, and he was just standing there, he could have opened the gate if he wanted. Jill was screaming, and Sandy was laughing like a maniac, and I just held it down and we kind of drove through his fence.”
Johnny saw the signature of a fence post in the center of the front bumper and noticed the license plate was missing, bracket and all. He started laughing again.
“Where did you fix the flat tire? In his yard?”
She had looked at him, incredulous. “Are you kidding? He was real mean. We called him names all the way home. I drove up the road a kilometer and called BCAA. By the time they got there, we had all the barbed wire untangled and were just figuring out how to get at the spare tire. What a stupid place for a spare! It was all frozen in!”
She had taken a breath and continued. “I know I didn’t do everything right, but at least he was too busy chasing his cows to bother us. In an hour or so, we were back on the road.” She had leaned against him, shivering.
“Johnny, I wished you were there so bad, but I had to handle it myself. But I was so afraid you would be mad.”
She started to cry again, and his first aid training had kicked in. He recognized her level of stress, knowing she needed to get in the house, warm up, relax.
While she stood in a hot shower, he emailed her boss, letting her know that Mary was not able to come to work in the morning. When Mary had protested, hair wrapped in a towel, sipping a variation of the potent drink Uncle Lars had called “glogg”, he pulled her onto his lap in front of the computer. Johnny had finally gotten the chance to show her the photos and video footage from his trip to Wells.
As he slowed the Peterbilt to exit the main road, Johnny grinned, remembering Mary’s reaction to the footage. Sitting on his lap, warm from her shower, and fuelled by substantial doses of relief and spiced apple juice he had substituted for wine, Mary’s comments ended abruptly when she went to sleep.
Johnny drove on as he replayed the situation in his mind. The next morning had been fine until, disappointed with losing his truck, he had suggested how Mary could have handled the situation better. Mary reacted strongly, accusing him of being two-faced; and though not as severe as the initial conflict, he was still trying to figure out how to make peace, wondering if he would ever remember to keep his mouth shut. In desperation, the only idea he had was to call Al.
Chapter 45
Terry was sick of worrying and was excited about the fast-approaching Mexico trip. She felt when she left the country her fears would be put on hold, and she desperately needed some relief. She had learned some strategies from her counselor, and she did her best not to let the harmful actions of others stop her from being who she was. In short, she was learning to be herself. She was learning to stop giving power to others; allowing their actions to change who she was and who she wanted to be.
She thought this through as she dug in her storage bins for clothes appropriate for her upcoming vacation, the apartment suddenly feeling too small. While it had been a convenient place to live for the winter, she was sick of it now. She opened the door and stood in the cool air, absorbing the normality around her – traffic noise, kids playing nearby.
She could see a slice of the busy street and saw a Banks Mountain low-bed cruise slowly by, one of the shop pickups looking lonely on the big deck. She turned back to her quest; maybe her summer clothes were in the red bins.
As he drove through town, filling the entire right lane with the wide low-bed trailer, Johnny was also thinking of Mexico. Without saying anything, he had cut back on his favorite soft drinks as well as the donuts and chips that had been friendly companions while driving. This had resulted in a surprising change to the fit of Johnny’s pants. He would either need to buy new jeans or eat more donuts.
Johnny hadn’t weighed himself in years, but he knew he had dropped some pounds since Christmas. It was Mary who had unknowingly inspired him. She enjoyed an evening glass of wine almost as much as she craved her morning coffee, and since deciding they wanted a baby, had abandoned all alcohol.
He could tell she missed it, even though she never complained, so without saying anything, he stopped drinking beer on the weekends and soft drinks during the week. This was a decent start, although his loose pants prompted complaining by Isaac and Jason about “the plumber no one had called” and “the vertical smile no one wants to see.”
Pulling to the side of the highway on the way out of town, he went into a feed and farm store to purchase some new work pants. He saw some brightly colored suspenders hanging on a rack, and smiled, remembering his uncles’ Husqvarna suspenders they liked to wear. What the heck, he grabbed a set of CAT suspenders and tossed them on top of his new canvas pants, the sharp, unwashed colors sure to set off a comment or two in the shop.
Walking back to the low bed, he thought back to his conversation with Al several weeks earlier. Al had reminded Johnny that forgiveness was something offered, not something waited for. Johnny had never heard this approach before. What Al had explained was simple. You didn’t need to wait for someone to ask to be forgiven; you could choose to forgive at any time. This made the power of forgiveness available to the offended party.”
This concept occupied Johnny’s mind for
several days, and he began to recognize the logic in what Al was saying. He thought of Chet who was quick to apologize when he had wronged someone. But was an apology the same as forgiving? This was sort of different: even though Chet apologized, what if the guy he had yelled at didn’t forgive? Chet didn’t seem to care, as long as he took responsibility for his actions, but then Chet wasn’t exactly a paragon of virtue, either; or was he?
Johnny had not figured it out completely, but he knew Mary had wronged him accidentally, if at all. On the other hand, he had wronged her intentionally with his words; or rather, the motivation to say what he did. And the yet-unknown monetary value of her accident with the truck was of much less concern to their future than his critical words, which cost nothing to say, yet made recovery so expensive.
He had leaned on a stall in the stable while Mary curried a horse, and apologized sincerely, explaining why he was wrong and admitting he understood the offense he had caused. He explained how he wanted so badly to never be mean and critical again, but that was afraid he would.
The horse had been well brushed by the time reconciliation finally took place, and they had both been shaken by the days they had wasted while floundering with their inability to handle the conflict. Mary cried when Johnny admitted he had asked Al for help, and they decided they needed to spend more time with her dad and Joanne.
After parking the low-bed and unloading the half-ton, he tossed his new clothes in the washer along with the suspenders and using the hottest setting, added detergent. As the tub filled, he mixed some bleach with water in a gallon bucket, pouring the diluted mixture into the machine. That would take care of some of the new look. It had worked before.
The door to the shop opened as Johnny hastily shoved the tags and wicked little plastic ties into a garbage can, and Lance Banks bounced in.
“Hey, Johnny! I wanted to see you.” He grinned. “Man, do I ever appreciate the new tires you put on the company trucks! Now these old trucks rock! I was having a lot of trouble getting around, and now I can go anywhere in the snow. Even the old man is impressed, but I bet he didn’t say so!”
Chet had a new pickup, but he chose to drive one of the older beaters in the fleet whenever possible, for reasons known only to him. With new tires installed, the pickup trucks were suddenly more popular, and there had been none of the lost time with the weekly flats that had been frustrating Pete, or the mileage being paid to the men who had to drive their own vehicles that had been frustrating Johnny.
“Why should three machines be sitting there losing thousands of dollars an hour, when their operators are fixing a flat on the way to work, or worse yet, calling me to bring them a spare tire!” Pete’s lament had finally got through to Johnny, and changes were made.
Lance was right, Chet’s only comment had been about changing back to summer tires in the spring. Johnny wasn’t quite sure if he was grumbling or not. What no one knew yet was that Johnny had worked a deal with the tire shop and would be outfitting the company pickups with sets of discontinued, and therefore discounted, mud tires when the snow melted. The old pile of used tires had been hauled away, and no one could be tempted to install used tires that were barely legal.
While Chet didn’t say much, Pete was a happy man, and would be even more so when Johnny had the commercial mud tires installed next spring. With their heavy sidewalls, the tires were notorious for a rough ride which would slow down the drivers. The safety bonus had Johnny grinning; fewer flats, and not so many trips in and out of the ditch.
Johnny’s thoughts were cut short by a call from Isaac, who needed parts. Johnny quickly assembled the supplies, loading them into the same pickup he had ditched with Jason not long ago.
Lance opened his lunch bag, and shared a big chunk of smoked fish, and they both chewed while admiring the grippy snow tires. Lance set his fish on the hood of the pickup, not seeming to mind it was crusted with road grime, while he struggled into a pair of coveralls without removing his boots.
“Chet just smoked this?” Johnny took another bite as Lance writhed against the dirty pickup, left boot refusing an easy descent through the leg of the formerly clean coveralls.
“Yeah, he said it was the last of the salmon in the freezer. I sure hope I get to go with him to Rupert next summer!”
Johnny knew Chet kept his boat in Prince Rupert and fished as often as he could, which had not been very much in the past five years. Lance won the battle with his boot and shrugged into a non-combative reflective vest.
“Hey, you going fishing when you’re in Mexico this spring?” The Banks had taken their kids on a trip to Mexico seven or eight years earlier and had done some deep-sea fishing. Having all enjoyed the trip, Chet bought a boat the following summer, and the family used it several times each summer.
As Lance climbed in the pickup, Johnny told him a few details, then gave instructions on where to find Isaac. He watched the pickup leave the yard, thinking. Johnny was looking forward to the trip, but he was concerned for Terry. He was not sure it had been a good idea to invite her and Isaac to join them. She seemed fragile, like she was close to losing it. He had to admit she was doing a good job driving; her lack of experience on the snowy bush roads was more than compensated for by her dependability and eagerness to learn.
He sighed, understanding women was not easy. Mary was still edgy about the wrecked pickup, and it probably didn’t help that he still had not replaced it, rather choosing to insure an old beater he had parked in the back of the property when he bought his Silverado. He was too busy to look for a new pickup, and wasn’t sure he wanted to commit five years of payments for a new truck at the moment anyway. It was simply easier pull the old GMC out of the snow and make a few simple repairs, deferring the decision of fixing or scrapping the totalled Silverado.
Chapter 46
The logging season ended suddenly with an untimely rainstorm in March. Chet watched the weather forecast religiously, as did Pete, and they decided late one afternoon that the equipment had better come out of the bush immediately.
Johnny was parking in his driveway when he got the call.
“Johnny, it’s going to rain.” Chet’s voice was excited. “You seen the forecast?”
Johnny hadn’t, but he had heard Pete mention it a dozen times that afternoon and guessed what was coming.
“Let’s keep the trucks hauling around the clock until we get shut down. I’ve got my brother’s low-bed for a week, and I’ll use it to haul the smaller machines while you and Isaac bring down the big iron. We’re guessing they’ll close the road.”
Chet was excited, the challenge of what he was proposing and the risk that he could be wrong bringing a surge of adrenalin, on which Johnny knew the older man thrived.
“Johnny, get some sleep. I’ve already asked the machine operators to work as long as they can, and then get their machines ready to haul. The processors and loaders can keep on working. We’ll haul them last. The more wood we get out now, the easier we survive breakup.”
Johnny was now in the kitchen and put Chet on speaker so Mary could hear too.
“Okay, Boss. I will make a schedule of who gets picked up first and let the guys know. Are your boys ready to pull some big shifts?”
Lance and Daniel were proficient on all the machines and when available, would substitute when a worker was sick.
“Yep, the boys are ready to go. They both went to bed to grab as much sleep as they can. Call Melissa whenever you need them, and she will get them moving.
Mary weighed in. “Okay, let’s make it happen. If you think we need to do this, let’s get right on it.” The men both waited while she paused. “But we are not going to let anybody work too long, and we will even drive the guys home if they are too tired, right?”
While he ate a quick supper of leftovers, Johnny thought of the job they would soon undertake. They had two full operations going, and each round trip with the low-beds would take three to seven hours, depending on the location of each machine, road conditi
ons, and how loading progressed. The biggest machines hung over the side of the low-bed trailers, and the high cabs needed to be tipped down hydraulically and secured, booms propped with supports, and everything chained down.
If indeed it did start raining, the frozen roads would quickly turn into a gigantic luge course, and chains on the trailers would be necessary to stay on the road.
Mary made Johnny take a hot shower before going to bed, and while he showered, she took notes of which machines needed to be hauled first, using several phones, conferring with Isaac and Pete.
Isaac voiced the concerns that were bothering them all. “If the roads get shut down while our equipment is out in the sticks, well, we can kiss a happy breakup goodbye! All that work will need to be done out in the weeds, or mud and ice, and the roads are going to be rough going with the pickups. Plus, we need to get a lot more loads out. All the timber sitting up there in bunches on the ground’s not worth a cent until it’s hauled!”
Within thirty minutes, they had a good plan, and Chet and Melissa helped make the calls.
Three hours later, four men drinking coffee at a window seat in Charlie’s Bar and Grill on the highway noticed several Banks Mountain low-beds roll past, followed by another owned by Chet’s brother.
“Hot darn!” A retired contractor grabbed his phone and called his son-in-law who was running his company. “Hey, Sam, the Banks’s low-beds are all heading out. What does Chet know that we don’t?”
Johnny called the mill, and after several conversations between five-minutes waits on hold, and a little pressure on the men who had grown to respect him in the last five months, they agreed to keep the scales open all night. Chet was happy. The company would not be paid until the wood was at the mill; each extra load made the financial situation during spring breakup a little more comfortable.
As Johnny made the turn north, his mind was busy. It was minus nine Celsius on a Thursday evening and the roads were perfect. He didn’t know if he hoped Chet was wrong or right. Melissa Banks was riding with him so she could drive the big grader to a different location. If Chet was correct, they may need the big machine with its serrated ice blade to make several steep sections of road safer. Melissa had made it clear she would not be doing any grading, but she could drive the big beast home if needed.
Always a Brother Page 23