Under the Ice

by Aaron Paul Lazar

  Camille was close to tears. “Shelby!”

  I took a deep breath. “I know you’re angry, Shelby. Frankly, so are we.”

  Camille looked at me gratefully.

  I continued in an even tone. “We’re disappointed in the choice you made. I understand you’re…uh…infatuated with this boy. But, he’s going back to Germany now and you’ll have to move on with your life. There will be other boys,” I said. “Many of them.” Too many, I thought miserably. “You made a mistake. And you need to be punished.”

  Her eyes narrowed and she looked away. “Isn’t being suspended enough?”

  I breathed. In. Out. In. Out. Don’t yell at her. “No. It’s not. So, here’s the deal. You’ll take over Siegfried’s chores in the barn.”

  Her nose wrinkled. She hated cleaning horse stalls.

  Merciless, I kept on. “You’ll wash the dishes every day for a week. And, since you’ll be idle all day because you’re grounded from everything that uses electricity, you’ll study some classics and write reports for me.”

  It was a heavy punishment. Anger had tempered my judgment, as much as I had tried to prevent it. I knew I’d laid it on too thick.

  Her eyes flared. “What do you mean, everything that uses electricity?” she erupted. “My computer? What about my homework?”

  “You’ll do your homework downstairs on our PC in the living room. And when I say grounded from all electrical things, that means your phone, the television, your iPod, and your computer.”

  A crafty look stole across her face. I expected she planned to sneak online after we’d gone to sleep.

  “Don’t even think about getting online when we’re not looking. I’ve already taken all of your power cords.”

  That did it.

  She erupted in tears again and streaked from the room. “Arghhh! I hate you! I hate you both!”

  Camille looked up at me, her dark eyes haunted. It wasn’t just Shelby that troubled her, and I knew it.

  “Do you think it was too much?” I asked.

  She shook her head. “No.” A pause. “Well, maybe a bit. But we can always return some privileges for good behavior. Let her stew on it for a while. She needs to know she can’t do things like this.”

  “What’s wrong, baby?” I said. I knew there was more. “Lou told me you took a student to the hospital.”

  She grabbed the second peeler and began to attack the potatoes. I returned to the carrots and she spilled her story across the table.

  “It’s Leah Monroe. She cut herself too deeply today in the girls’ bathroom. Brought a needle with her to school and scraped across her wrists. It was serious, this time, much deeper than usual. Her parents told her they’re getting divorced just before she left for school.”

  “Great timing,” I said sourly.

  “Yeah. They’re morons. Her best friend found her, freaked out, screamed down the hallway for help. The whole place was in a panic. Finally, a teacher called 911, then the nurse and me. We wrapped her wrists, but she’d already lost a lot of blood. Too much,” she shuddered.

  My stomach lurched. “Is she…?”

  “No, no. She’ll make it.”

  I exhaled, letting the fear go. “Oh, thank God.”

  Camille’s face was still frozen. There was something else going on.

  “What?” I said. “What haven’t you told me?”

  Her lower lip quivered, then stilled when she pressed her lips together. She took a deep breath. “I saw Greg again from the ambulance window. He was sitting on the park bench right outside the school grounds. He waved to me as we drove by, and he looked like some sick circus clown.”

  Chapter 41

  In the middle of the night, I rubbed my gritty eyes and slowly sat up, swinging my legs over the side of the mattress. I was tempted to flop back onto my warm pillow and burrow under the covers again, but the pressure on my bladder won out.

  Beside me, Camille snored softly, one arm flung over her face.

  I peered at the alarm clock and groaned. Three forty-seven.

  Heaving myself from the bed, I shuffled over the cold floorboards to the bathroom. With my eyes barely opened, I stumbled toward the fuzzy white rug that circled the base of the toilet, answered nature’s call, and rinsed my hands under warm water. I flapped around for a towel in the dark room, but couldn’t find it. Finally, I located it in a heap on the floor. Groaning, I picked it up.

  Something clattered to the ground. I bent to inspect the item, and discovered it was Camille’s cell phone charger.

  I’d plugged both phones into their chargers before bed and now awkwardly searched the floor for hers. I grimaced, flipped on the light switch, and squinted against the glare.

  Her phone was gone.

  I stiffened.

  Shelby.

  I listened hard against the sounds of the night.

  There it was.

  A soft giggle. A seductive sigh.

  Fury simmered in my gut. I stole toward her room. The duplicity of it, the lying, and the sneaking around. I couldn’t stand it any more.

  The hall was lit with the soft glow of a nightlight. I sputtered, heading for Shelby’s door. Light splintered through a crack in the door.

  I stopped and hesitated. Should I listen at the door? Would it be wrong? Or could I be protecting her by discovering who’s on the other end?

  I pressed my ear against the painted panel. It felt smooth and cold against my skin.

  She giggled again. “Uh huh. Okay. Wednesday’s still possible. I’m sure I can go for a walk or something. Yup.”

  The hinges squeaked when I pushed the door open.

  She lay on her side on the tufted pink bedspread, cradling Camille’s cell phone in her hands. When she saw me, her round eyes flared. Instantly, she bolted up and whispered into the phone. “I’ve gotta go. Gus is here.”

  “Who was that?” I held my hand out for the cell.

  She handed it to me with attitude, then flopped back against her pillow. “You know who it was.” Her voice was tight, full of unshed tears.

  “Was it Rolf?”

  “Whatever.” She pulled the covers over her head.

  Whomever, my tired brain corrected. I stepped closer to her and lowered the covers.

  “Shelby.”

  She grumbled and turned over.

  “Listen. I know you think this is unfair. But we’re doing it for you. Truly, sweetheart. We love you and want you to be safe.”

  “You can’t protect me forever, Dad. You have to let me make my own mistakes.”

  It sounded like something she’d heard in school. There was some truth to it, of course, but she was missing an important caveat—the part about not getting killed or becoming pregnant.

  “We want you to grow and experience life. We do. But in a rational, relatively controlled manner. You have to stick to our rules until you’re an adult. Then, you’re on your own. When you’re twenty-one, you’ll be free to make whatever choices you want.”

  “Eighteen,” she mumbled.

  I almost said, whatever, but stopped myself. “Well, we can argue over that later, but right now I need you to put some serious effort into sticking to the rules. Do a good job this week with your chores. Don’t complain. Don’t try to sneak out on Wednesday to see… whomever. Please try to control yourself. Besides, if this Rolf thing is real, when you’re eighteen, you can fly over there to see him. Right?” I thought if I dangled a carrot she might concede.

  “Really? I could?” She spoke in her little girl voice. Her eyes brightened as she rolled over to face me.

  “Sure, honey. If you still feel this way about him in a few years, and nobody else has stolen your heart, you could save up for a European visit and take a tour of the country with your friends before college. It would be good for you.” I choked on the words, imagining her being pick-pocketed and bamboozled at every street corner in Paris. In reality, if Shelby went to Europe, I’d be with her. But now she needed something to dream about. And who
knows? By then, maybe I would’ve softened.

  “Okay, Dad. I’m sorry. I felt really guilty sneaking into your bathroom and taking the phone, anyway. But… ” a strange look flickered across her face. “Well, I’ll tell you more later, but I just had to. Can you try to understand?”

  I leaned down to kiss her forehead. She surprised me and reached up to hug me tight.

  “You’re not really a terrible father. I didn’t mean that. I’m sorry.”

  “I’m not? Sometimes I think I’m blowing it, Shelby.”

  “No. You’re a terrific father. I love you, Dad.”

  I hugged her back. I’d missed this sweet girl. “G’night, honey.” Straightening, I turned off her light and padded back to my bedroom. I slid into bed beside Camille’s soft, warm body and snuggled behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist.

  “Huh?” she mumbled. “Is everything okay?”

  I smiled in the dark, inching closer. “Go back to sleep, love. Everything’s fine.”

  Chapter 42

  Late Monday afternoon, Shelby slid a pitchfork under a smelly pile on the stall floor. She scowled and tossed it into the wheelbarrow.

  I stood in the loft, throwing down hay bales to the aisle below. Diablo munched on hay in the snow-covered paddock just outside the opened stall door. He raised his head to stare at Shelby. Vapor fogged from his nostrils and he snorted in approval when she scooped another clump. Maggie slurped water from a large heated tub. She sucked it through her pursed fuzzy lips for a long time. The warm water on her whiskers froze instantly when she lifted her dripping muzzle from the bucket, giving her a frosty beard. It was freezing out, in spite of the bright blue skies and cumulus clouds that snapped across the horizon.

  I nodded to Siegfried, who swept the main aisle with a push broom. “Watch out, Sig.”

  I flung another bale to the floor and climbed down the ladder. I knew they didn’t really need my help, but I wanted to keep an eye on Shelby to be sure she worked hard, and also just in case our stalker came back to spy on us. What if Greg came closer? What if he lured her outside and to his vehicle?

  I was also afraid Siegfried would offer to take over for Shelby. Since she’d been assigned his chores, he seemed lost. He’d cleaned the tack room, restacked bales of pine shavings, and saddle soaped the bridles and halters. To make matters worse, Freddie had shooed him out of the clinic for a week’s vacation. If she didn’t insist, he would report to work every day of his life, including Sundays.

  “Sheisse. I do not need a vacation,” he muttered, slowly pushing the broom. Dust whorls puffed into the cold air.

  I laughed. “You always say that, Sig.”

  He flashed a half smile. “Ja. I have no place to go.”

  “Maybe you should plan a real vacation? You know, go back to Germany to visit Eberhardt and Frieda?”

  His face stiffened. The last time we’d visited his family in Denkendorf, he was nearly killed when he was tortured in a neo-Nazi terrorist camp. “Nein. I do not think I would like that, Professor.”

  “Well…how about you and I go somewhere together? How about Toronto?”

  His eyes lit up. “Ja. That would be wunderbar! I want to ride the big boat.”

  “The ferry?” I asked. “Me, too.” The ferry had just started running again after its January hiatus.

  “Can we go tomorrow?” he asked. He was serious.

  I paused. I didn’t want to dampen his spirits since I’d finally convinced him to step foot out of East Goodland. “Well, I do have light classes this week, ‘cause it’s midterms. Anyone can administer the tests for me. But I don’t think we should… ” I lowered my voice to be sure Shelby couldn’t hear me, “leave the family alone with that kook on the loose.”

  His bright blue eyes flashed with inspiration. “Ja. Unless we bring everyone with us.”

  He’d sparked a thought in me. “You know, that’s not a bad idea. Shelby’s already off school, albeit for a terrible reason, and Camille needs to get away. We could go over for a day or two, see a show, or go to the art museum.”

  I thought about it. It would take some quick action on my part. But we’d be away on Wednesday when Shelby planned her secret rendezvous with Rolf. “I’ll check it out, buddy.”

  I stacked three hay bales against the wall and clapped the dust and strands of hay off my jeans.

  Max rose from his spot at the end of the aisle, apparently thinking I’d been calling him when I slapped my legs. He’d been sleeping with his nose tucked into his fur. Although he didn’t need to be outside in the cold, he insisted on being by my side.

  I sat on a bale of hay and made a fuss over him. “Good dog. Good boy.” I stroked his wiry coat and ruffled his ears, thumping his sides soundly. His blue eyes, courtesy of his Husky father, rolled in pleasure. He licked the exposed skin between my gloves and my jacket cuff as if to thank me.

  Shelby loosed a loud sigh. “Ugh.”

  I glanced at her. “Doing okay in there?”

  She grumbled. “I guess.”

  I got up and rested my arms on the top of the stall door. It came midway up my chest. “Looks like you’re almost done with this one.”

  “That horse eats too much and poops too much.”

  I snorted a laugh. “You would too, if you weighed twelve hundred pounds.”

  Her mouth twitched, threatening to smile. She bent down and scooped the last of the pieces into the wheelbarrow.

  Siegfried ambled toward us and joined me at the door. “Good job, Fräulein. Maybe I should hire you to help me every day.”

  “I stink,” she said. “And I’d rather die.”

  Sig laughed. It was a deep, infectious sound that rose from his belly and filled the barn with warmth.

  A tiny smile flitted across Shelby’s lips. She jabbed the pitchfork into the pile in the wheelbarrow and rolled it toward us. I unlocked the door and let her through. She maneuvered through the doorway and circled around to Maggie’s stall.

  Siegfried raced ahead to unlock the door for her, while I latched Diablo’s door.

  I waited for her to finish and helped her put away her tools. “I’ve got to grade some papers,” I said.

  Siegfried glanced at his watch. “Ja. And I must feed Sheba.” He waved and strode evenly toward the carriage house.

  “Did you lock the stall door?” I asked.

  I expected her to roll her eyes, and she didn’t disappoint me.

  “Of course.”

  Shrugging, I slipped my arm through hers. “Good job. Now, let’s get inside where it’s warm.”

  We hurried side by side toward the yellow light spilling from the kitchen window onto the porch below.

  “I hate horses,” she said. “I’ll never have them when I grow up.”

  This time, I felt like rolling my eyes, but I controlled myself. “That’s your prerogative. But you might feel differently if you’d go for a ride once in a while with your mother and me.”

  She huffed. “Why? So I can come home all stinky?”

  I wanted to say, “No, so you can spend some quality time with us, get outside to enjoy nature, and get away from your computer and phone for a while.” But I held back. “Um. No. But it’s good exercise.” I thought that might appeal to her since she was always watching her calories these days.

  She screamed and turned to me. “Arggg! Now you’re calling me fat?”

  I quickly tried to remedy the situation. “Of course not! I’m just saying…”

  “I hate you!” She ran ahead of me, up the stairs, and slammed the kitchen door behind her.

  Chapter 43

  On Tuesday, Shelby grumbled through all of her chores, including a book report I’d asked her to write on The Great Gatsby. After dinner, she stood at the sink and wiped the steam from her forehead with her sleeve, tackling a large pile of pots and pans. She was unusually quiet, and I could tell she was still mad at me for the “It’s good exercise” comment the night before. And I had to face it, she was still furious about
all the punishments I’d heaped on her. I’d tried to make it right with her, but so far, it hadn’t worked.

  “Shelby?” I laid her report on the table and put the cap back on my pen.

  “Mmm?”

  “Nice work. This was well written. Did you like the story?”

  “It was okay.” She didn’t look at me. “I love being forced to read.”

  I frowned and let out a sigh. She wasn’t going to get over this anytime soon.

  “What time are we leaving for the ferry tomorrow?” she asked suddenly.

  There was something about her carefully enunciated words that put me on alert.

  “Just after lunch. We’re taking the three o’clock ferry over, and I want to get there early.”

  “Okay.”

  Before I could speculate about her motives, the kitchen door burst open. Siegfried’s unzipped parka flapped around his massive body. His breath came hard. “Professor! Come help with Maggie. Bitte.”

  I jumped out of my chair, grabbed my parka, and raced after him. The evening sky had already turned black silk, dotted with diamonds. The air was still and cold.

  “What’s wrong, Sig?” I hurried after him.

  “She got loose from her stall and knocked over the grain bin.”

  My heart leapt. “Oh, God. How much did she eat?” Horses had no sense when it came to food. They’d overeat until they got sick and died.

  He slid open the barn door and raced toward Maggie’s stall. I was seconds behind him.

  “Too much.”

  How did the mare get out? Suddenly it dawned on me. Shelby. She must have left the stall door unlatched when she’d finished up her barn chores last night. It had taken the horse only one day to figure out that she wasn’t locked in.

  Maggie stood with her head drooping. Her sides heaved, and her eyes were half-closed. If she lay down, her stomach would twist and she’d die within the day.

  I poked her sides with three fingers. Still soft. No impaction. It was a good sign, but no guarantee that it wouldn’t happen later if we didn’t take precautions.

  “Get the mineral oil,” I said. “I’ll walk her.”