Once they reached the shore, Brandon kicked off the shoes and headed straight for the water, but before he reached it, he stumbled to the ground. Hannah pulled him up by the arm, but he was so shaky he could barely stand. “Help me,” he said. “Help me into the water.”
It was cold, so terribly cold. Both Hannah and Brandon flinched as she stepped him in. Once she was up to her thighs, she would take him no further. Any deeper and the current would suck them both down. Bran struggled to get out of Hannah’s grip and deeper into the water, but she hung on as she fell to her knees with him. Bran turned on his back and Hannah found herself holding him as a preacher might when baptizing a new believer. Bran’s billowing hospital robe. The white, freckled skin of his flailing arms. Bran threw back his head, submerging his open eyes and mouth, looking back up at her through river water. He didn’t try to right himself. In that moment Hannah understood there was no mystery. Her brother had asked for her help to take his own life.
“Oh, god, no!” Hannah cried. She hauled him to the surface. Brandon coughed and strained for breath as she dragged him back to shore and pulled him partway out of the water. Low overhead, an eagle carried one of Stew’s pink flamingos. The plastic ornament was nearly too heavy for the bird; the eagle hit the burnt railing of the bridge with it before landing on the shore nearby to peck at the pink plastic as if it were salmon flesh. A world gone mad, Hannah thought. She had gone mad. What the hell had she just done?
“Take me back into the water,” Brandon pleaded.
“I won’t let you die.”
“Dying is better than living like this.”
“You’re sick. You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I know more than you know. Let me go home.”
“Bran, you are home.”
“Hannah, please.” He was shivering and his voice was faint. “Take me back into the water.”
“I can’t,” she said, and repeated herself as she shook her head. She couldn’t sink any further into this madness with him, into that dark water where her mother had gone. Elaine had drowned here. Instead Hannah rocked this stranger, her brother, as they both shivered in the watery winter light.
Brandon stood on the surface of the water, watching his sister rock his body, waiting to see if she would take the boy back into the river. He had waited for weeks near this shore, resisting the river’s constant pull on him, both hoping and fearing the boy would find his way back into the water. If he did, Brandon’s body would die as the mystery slipped back into the river. Brandon would then be free to awaken within himself, but only if his body was revived. He needed someone there with him. He needed someone to save him.
He had done what he could to alert Hannah to his presence, taking advantage of her few receptive moments to reach out to her, when she rose from sleep, hoping that she saw him and understood. Only minutes ago he believed Hannah was about to offer him the opportunity he had been waiting for, to find his way home. But then, just as the boy was about to release himself into the river, she pulled him back out of the water. Now he saw Gina rushing from her house. Even if Hannah had second thoughts and tried again, Gina would never allow her to take the boy back into the water. But maybe Bran could still return, if Hannah acted quickly.
He moved closer to shore, calling her. Hannah. But, in her panic and confusion, she couldn’t hear him. The boy looked up, though, and clearly saw him. “Help me,” he pleaded.
It was a strange thing to view himself from without, to see his own long torso, his own legs, short for his body, he realized, like his father’s. He looked so very much like Jesse, the way he held his head upright—not by intention but by design—his upper body naturally like that of a swimmer’s.
Hannah, Brandon called again.
Hannah turned her head towards Gina as her neighbour called her name. “Shit,” she said and then pulled the boy further onto shore. Gina reached them and together they pulled him up from the water, even as the boy protested, helped him stumble back to the house and onto the deck. Gina closed the door into the living room behind them.
Brandon stood near the shore a moment longer, looking at the old farmhouse that had been his home. The ragged tarpaper on the outside wall; the stack of siding on the front deck. The windows were dark. He couldn’t see inside. The house appeared derelict, abandoned. He felt the realization settle into him: he was already dead. There was nothing left for him here now.
He felt the water flowing under his feet, the pull of the river urging him along. After weeks of resisting the water’s call, he finally turned and walked the surface of the river over the spawning grounds, then around Dead Man’s Bend.
At the lake, he stopped to take one last look back at the farmhouse and the burned bridge beyond, his home valley. Then he joined the trickle of souls making their slow, winding journey down this watery trail, following the same route the salmon travelled down to the Pacific, south, to the land of the spirits.
— 22 —
At the Threshold
JESSE THUNDERED INTO the house, panicked, angry. He stopped short at the living-room threshold when he saw Grant, dressed in his RCMP uniform, standing in front of the door that led out to the deck with his arms crossed, barring it. Hannah and Bran sat on the tattered red couch, wearing bathrobes and covered in blankets, warming in front of the fire. Gina had made cocoa for them and was drinking hers as she leaned against the wall near the largest window. She wore Jesse’s navy bathrobe over her wet T-shirt and jeans.
“Is Bran okay?” Jesse asked.
“I don’t think either of them are okay,” Gina said.
Jesse’s gaze flickered back to Grant.
“I phoned Grant and asked him to stay,” Gina explained, “at least until you arrived. I wasn’t sure I could handle Bran alone. Once I brought him in from the river, he kept trying to leave the house.”
“It’s okay. I understand.” Then, to Grant, he said, “I appreciate it.”
Grant nodded but his face was steely. He looked over Jesse rather than at him.
Jesse went to his children but Hannah wouldn’t look at him. Bran tentatively licked the miniature marshmallows floating in his mug as if trying to figure out what they were. He ate one, rolling it around in his mouth, and looked surprised.
“Have you found out what the hell happened?” Jesse asked Gina.
“I figured I should wait for you. Hannah hasn’t been…communicative.”
Hannah glared at Gina briefly, then drank from her mug, ignoring them both.
Jesse squatted next to her, forcing her to look at him. “The nurse who called said you kidnapped Bran from the hospital,” he said. “Then Gina phones to tell me you took him into the river.”
“I can’t kidnap my own brother.”
“You can’t just take him out of the hospital.”
“That’s bullshit.” But Hannah glanced at Grant, as if she feared arrest.
“No, that’s for Bran’s protection,” Jesse told her. “I shouldn’t have to point that out to you, especially now. Gina said he could have drowned.”
Hannah pulled her robe closed at the neck. “Bran wanted to go to the river, that’s all. So I took him. Then he slipped. No big deal.”
Gina put her cup on the window ledge and sat on the chair opposite Hannah. Jesse felt the heat of her body next to his and, aware Grant was watching, shifted away from her. Gina leaned towards the girl as she said, “Hannah, I saw you help Bran into the river.”
“Jesus,” Jesse said. “What were you thinking?”
Hannah looked away from her father. “You wouldn’t understand.”
“You’re damn right I don’t understand.”
Gina put her hand on Hannah’s briefly to give her words weight. “Bran really could have died, Hannah. Do you understand that? He could have drowned, or died from exposure.”
“Well, he didn’t.”
Bran slurped up the last of his cocoa and Hannah took the mug from his hand. Then she tucked the blanket around hi
m. When Bran looked up at her, apparently confused by her actions, Jesse noticed that his son was weeping and yet seemed unaware of his own tears. Jesse ran a thumb over his son’s cheek to remove a tear and Bran wiped his face. He looked down at the wet on his palm, perplexed.
“We should get him back to the hospital,” Jesse said. “He’s clearly out of it.”
Grant took off his cap and stepped forward. “I can drive him.” He nodded at the side window, at his police car parked in his own driveway across the road.
“He won’t hurt anyone,” Hannah said. She looked pointedly at Gina. “We don’t need your help. And he’s not going back to the hospital.”
“Hannah, it’s the best place for him right now,” Jesse said.
“You stuck him in that ward because you don’t want to take care of him, just like you don’t want to take care of Grandpa. You just want to sell this place and leave.”
Jesse clenched and unclenched his teeth but didn’t respond.
Gina sat back. “Hannah, that’s hardly fair.”
“Why are you still here?” Hannah asked her. She turned her back on Gina as she helped Bran stand and led him up the stairs to his room.
Jesse stood. “Are you getting him dressed?” he called after her.
“He should rest,” Hannah said. “He’s exhausted.”
“But I’m taking him in.” Jesse turned to Gina for confirmation. “They’ll want him back immediately, right?”
“Let her be for a while,” Gina said. “He’ll be easier to manage after a nap in any case.”
Grant took Gina’s elbow, to urge her up. “We should go,” he said. “Allow them some privacy.”
“You go,” she told him as she stood. “I’ll head home in a few minutes.”
“I think Jesse and Hannah have this under control.”
“You know your job,” she told him. “I know mine.”
Grant lowered his voice. “Is that really why you’re here? Your job?”
“Yes.” But she was the first to look away. “I’m here for Hannah,” she said.
Grant held up both hands. “Fine.” He turned back to Jesse. “If you do need help taking Bran in, give me a shout. But next time something like this happens, you find another social worker. Understand?”
Jesse nodded but didn’t make eye contact.
“That’s not your call,” Gina told Grant.
“Isn’t it? I’m your husband.” He put his cap back on and left by the deck entrance, closing the door a little too hard.
Gina stood at the window, watching him stride up the driveway and across the road. Jesse joined her there, aware of her shoulder against his.
“He knows,” said Jesse.
“He suspects.”
“So you haven’t told him about us.”
“No.”
“Will you?”
“You almost sound like you want me to.”
Jesse didn’t say anything, just held her gaze as he waited on her response.
Hannah came back downstairs and paused as she pointedly took in how close together her father and Gina stood. Then she headed for the kitchen.
“Hannah, wait,” Gina pleaded. “Sit. We’ve got to talk about this.”
Hannah wavered for a moment, then flopped on the couch, crossing her arms. She looked like a woman now, Jesse thought, but she was still so much the teen.
Gina resumed her perch on the chair opposite Hannah. “What really happened out there?” Gina asked. “Did Bran talk you into taking him down to the river?”
“No.” Hannah paused. “Not exactly.”
“Did Alex?”
“No!”
“But he’s been telling you stories, hasn’t he? Dennis Moses’s stories, about the mystery in the river.”
Hannah stared past her, out the window, at the river.
“Bran believed his stories, and maybe you came to as well?” Gina asked. When Hannah still didn’t respond, she said, “Brandon believes what he’s experiencing is real. He knows it’s real, with a level of conviction, of faith, that the rest of us will likely never understand. That can make him very convincing. I’ve dealt with kids with similar psychosis over the years, kids thinking they can control the weather or talk to spirits. I can see how you might be drawn into his world.”
“I didn’t say I believed him.”
“Then why did you take him into the river?” Jesse paused. “You weren’t helping him to commit suicide.”
“No! God, no. I was trying to save him. At least I thought I was.” Hannah held her head in her hands. “For a while it all made sense. Now nothing does. I think I’m losing my mind.”
Gina came to sit beside her, reached out and smoothed her hair. “Anyone would feel unsettled in your situation.”
Hannah didn’t pull away. “I want so much to help him, for everything to be okay.” Hannah looked up at her father. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do for Bran. I don’t know how to fix this.”
“There’s nothing you can do,” Gina said. “He needs medical care, medication, time to heal. All you can do is be there. Just be there for him.”
“How can I do that when he’s locked in that hospital room? He’s all by himself in there. And they increased his dosage to control him, just like they drug Grandpa.”
“They medicate Brandon so he isn’t a danger to himself or others,” Gina said. “He needs his medication to recover. You have to help him understand that.” She paused. “He’ll likely be in and out of the hospital many times.” She took Hannah’s hand in both hers as if Hannah were family, a daughter. “But that’s not the worst of it, is it? You feel like you have no control over what’s going on.”
Hannah’s cell buzzed and she leaned away from Gina to read a text. She responded to it before pocketing the phone. Then she stood and opened the front door. “Dad won’t sign Bran out of that fucking hospital,” she said to Gina. “Once Grandpa dies…”
Gina glanced up at Jesse as she spoke. “You’re afraid your dad will leave.”
Hannah turned to her father. “I know he will.”
Jesse held a hand out. “Hannah, you’ve got to understand—”
But Hannah didn’t let him finish. She stepped outside and banged the door shut behind her.
“You should follow her, talk to her,” Gina said.
Jesse shook his head, feeling the anger hot on his face. “I don’t think so.”
“Listen, Jesse, you’ve got to pay much more attention to Hannah. She needs to know she still has a family. Bran isn’t the only one suffering here.”
“She acts like she doesn’t want me around.”
“She’s hurt. You left her, remember? You’ll have to work to regain her trust.”
“Are we talking about Hannah or you?”
Gina stood back, crossed her arms and stared at him.
Jesse nodded. “Okay, you’re right. But how long will this go on for? When will Bran get better?”
“You mean how long will you have to stay? I don’t know. There’s no way to tell.”
“It could be years, right, before he recovers? Or never.”
“There’s a very good chance Bran will recover. But yes, it could take years. Before Bran is released, you’ll have to have a conversation with Bran’s doctor, to come up with a care plan for him at home.”
Jesse rubbed his chin. “Are you willing to help out?” he asked.
“I think you need to handle this on your own.” She glanced out the window. Hannah was striding towards the river. “And Hannah has made it clear she would rather not have me involved.” She squeezed his hand. “Go talk to her.” Then she turned to leave.
“Can we meet up later?”
Gina looked back at him from the doorway. “We got a reality check today, Jesse.”
“You’re breaking things off?”
“I’m cooling things down. Grant sees us. I’m not sure I’m ready to give up everything when I don’t know what’s waiting for me.”
Jesse ste
pped towards her. “Please, Gina, meet me later so we can talk this out.”
Gina shook her head. “Your focus should be here right now, with your kids, not with me.”
“I don’t think I can do this again.”
“Yes, you can. You have to.” She hesitated, then kissed him on the lips, lingering a moment before pulling away.
The eagle had abandoned the plastic pink flamingo on shore. Hannah kicked it, sending it spinning into the water. It bobbed on the current, sliding downriver ahead of her as she strode to meet Alex. He marched up the path towards her, the ankles of his jeans wet from wading across the shallows. As he reached her, he shouted, “Jesus, Hannah. What the hell? I get a text from Gina saying you took Bran into the river, that he nearly drowned. She’s holding me responsible.”
“Aren’t you? You were the one who said that was the only way to save him.”
“I said you needed to talk to the mystery.”
“Well, I did. At least I thought I did. For a while I actually believed Bran was the mystery. He asked me to take him back home, to the river. He said he would release Bran.”
“So you let him try to drown himself?”
“No! I only took him to the river to let that thing go.”
“Hannah, we’ve got to make sure Bran’s spirit is still here first, that he can get back, that we can revive him. You can’t do this alone.”
“Revive him. Do you hear yourself? You are asking me to drown my own brother.”
“I’m not asking you to do anything. You came to me looking for help, remember? All I did was tell you what I know.” He looked away as he rubbed his neck. “In many ways it would be better to let things run their course, allow the mystery to bring down the storm. He’s here for a reason.”
“All that is bullshit. Everything you told me, the story is bullshit. If you hadn’t told Bran about the ‘mystery’ and all that other crap, he wouldn’t be sick like this.”
“You know that’s not true.”
Hannah waved a hand at the water in exasperation. “He thinks he’s some kind of spirit, for god’s sake, and that he lives in the river.”
The Spawning Grounds Page 16
