by Julia Ariss
"Um...could you point me in the direction of the lake please, Jack?" Fanny asked. "I think I'll...dip my feet and cool off."
"Turn right as you leave and go just beyond the paddock, then due south."
After skulking out of the stable and stooping to swipe a twig from the ground, she slumped against the side of the building and set about trying to uncake her feet. Samantha's sniping echoed from within.
"Oh. My. God. What an odd duck. Where'd you dig her up, or did she just roll right off the turnip truck?" she could be heard inquiring of Jack, and then after the protracted void of silence, as if to prove she'd grown a conscience, "I didn't mind the brooch, though," to which there was no response.
***
Fanny was sitting at the end of the dock swishing her bare feet through the cool water and relishing the quiet. There were scattered sailboats, but they were far enough out to be unobtrusive. Stillness. To the casual onlooker, observing her isolation from the other revelers, she might have seemed anti-social but stillness was her go-to prescription for calm. It was only after coming up for air that she could dive back into the fray. Having her breathing room also guarded against ill-timed and regrettable meltdowns. With such a delicious expanse of time to herself everything could be put into its proper context, freeing her to slough off indignities suffered, her subpar performance so far, and Jack's earlier offences. Her self-respect was still intact and all was not lost.
A sudden loud engine jolted her upright, and as she turned toward the noise she spotted what looked like a dune buggy bouncing over the ridge and down the hill toward the dock. On closer inspection she realized it was its accident-prone vulgar cousin the all-terrain vehicle, manned by Jack donning dark glasses, looking uncannily like a dashing security guard out patrolling for reprobates. By the time he'd stopped on a landing near the dock, he'd morphed into a peevish security guard desperate for a shift change, but then a half-smile escaped, indicating he hadn't quite nailed his part.
"I've been dispatched to round up stragglers," he said, after turning off the engine and hopping out of his seat. He made his way down a set of stairs and along the dock toward her.
"Oh alright, thank you."
"The live auction is over and the buffet is ready and your father was...wondering."
She remembered the equestrian business and after glancing at her watch, groaned. She'd been gone for over an hour. Yikes.
"I'll be right there, I just lost track of time. I suppose I missed your demonstration."
"Pardon? Oh, I was a spectator only. I wasn't ever involved in that end. Competition. Never had the interest. But I've always loved horses. I like caring for them, being around them. Mr. Bimsy and I have spent many hours wandering through the trails in search of apples. He's an incredible animal, very athletic."
"He seemed very patient with me. Polite."
"I meant what I said. You're a natural and he knew it. He can smell a phoney a mile away. I suppose, had he sensed the timing was right, he wouldn't have minded a nuzzle either. But he likes to take things slow."
"Well, I guess I'm flattered then," she said, smiling as she glanced out at the water. Isn't he getting a bit old for competition?"
"Light jumping only and not in competition. He's retired although he had a quite a career show jumping and has travelled extensively. But he's always been happier at home. It was time to settle down. He's a country boy at heart."
"Aren't they all? I mean, he is a horse..."
"Uh yes, of course," he said, rubbing his forehead and glancing back at the A.T.V. I have room for one more if you're-"
"You go ahead, but thanks," she said, picturing an overturned ATV and the pandemonium that would ensue.
"I'll wait, I'm in no rush to get back."
"No, no, I won't keep you from all your friends. I might be a few minutes, wringing out my shoes."
"They're mostly acquaintances. Business and social. Just a few friends. But suit yourself, I understand. I've disturbed you," he said, making to leave.
Fanny was examining her shoes uncertainly as she spoke. "Quite rightly, come to think of it. I needed disturbing. Where I would be right now - had I taken the trouble to consider your Aunt and my father, and manners and etiquette - is back at the house helping." She saw that Jack, having stopped in his tracks, was listening intently with arms folded, so she carried on. "You know, I just assumed you would have a surplus of friends here, that you cast your net wide. I, on the other hand, could probably count my closest friends on one hand. No, that can't be right, can it? Oh crap, yes it is and...oddly, I'm at ease, revealing that depressing fact. I either clam up or over share; oh, to have a middle ground. Anyway, I guess I'm not that interested in cluttering up my collection. And it's not that I'm afraid of meeting new people, these people... I can be quite forthright. Shy wouldn't accurately describe my-"
"Fanny...I get it. You don't need to justify seeking out solace from all that. Hardly a crime. I look for it too. Often. You've discovered my favorite refuge."
"It just comes across as unsociable and selfish. Impolite."
"I couldn't disagree with you more. Under the circumstances, it's probably the only sane response. Can't have you wilting. Now that would be bad form."
She couldn't decide whether it was high sarcasm or he'd cultivated a new and improved attitude. Either way she was warming to him, and she was reconsidering the ATV ride. She'd seen him land a sea-plane, for which she was fairly certain there were strict licensing regulations, so surely he could deliver her safely aboard a jacked up ride-on-lawnmower.
"And sometimes," Jack continued, "the natives are hostile, but don't take it personally. Sam and I are very close. There's a lot of sizing up that takes place at these things. A thick skin is key."
"Well, it's not too late to stage a comeback. I should probably go get a bite to eat. Shore up my defences." She tried to catch his eye but he was preoccupied stealing a quick look at his smart phone.
"So much for your peace and tranquility."
Her comment yielded a puckered brow, and thrusting his phone back into his pocket he was suddenly all business. "Sorry. I'm expecting some emails and a call. It's fairly urgent. It's a noose around my neck, but this device allows me to be here. He paused and was studying her curiously now, as if he'd lost his train of thought. "And so you're settling into H.R. alright?"
Again? "Mmm-hmm."
"Look Fanny, if you're not feeling challenged in your job, if it's less than ideal...we want you to feel you're playing to your strengths. There are other opportunities. We'd like you to stick around."
"Well, I do want to be doing something meaningful. Er, what I meant was, where I'm making a positive difference. Improving people's lives in some way. But I've only just started and I'm willing to pay my dues. I'm not unhappy." Just bored. And I need this job.
"Good." He seemed satisfied with her answer, like a box had been ticked off, but then he did an abrupt double take and was frowning at her shoulder once again, this time wagging his finger at her brooch. "It looks like you have a spider."
"Oh, my brooch, yes. I've had it forever and suddenly it's causing a sensation. It's become this weird conversation piece and I haven't got a clue about its providence, but I'm guessing, early dime store?"
"That's very interesting," he said, disinterestedly, as he crouched down beside her, squinting. "Normally they're skittish. I've never seen one up so close."
Fanny smiled and nodded incoherently, wondering whether she'd misheard or he'd begun to spout gibberish in a heat-induced delirium. "Maybe we should get out of the sun," she said, starting to get up.
"Fanny, just stay put a sec. You have a dock spider sunning itself on your shoulder. Here I'll just brush it off."
"Pardon," she said calmly, already dismissing his crazy talk, and then she saw it and just as her mouth dropped open, the true horror set in; enormous and hairy it was lugging a large egg sac and scampering down her arm. Ew! The last thing she remembered before she was rendered speech
less was her own sharp intake of air.
"Fanny, you okay? Fanny."
"Oof. Wha?"
"You passed out and fell off the dock, into the lake."
"The spider, I remember now, blech!"
"She'll be fine. Excellent swimmers, and harmless. Remarkable creatures."
"I guess...once you get past the ick factor."
Fanny locked eyes with Jack and slowly took stock of her situation. The most obvious detail worth noting was that she was being carried in his arms through the water toward the shore. This was no small task, what with the rocks, but what struck her as even more noteworthy was her own mellow lack of concern. That they were both sopping wet seemed a trifling matter. She was far too mesmerized watching the water droplets roll down his face and off his chin. She could feel the pressure of his arms enfolding her waist and tucked under her thighs. She had no idea why she needed carrying but she could reliably confirm that he looked sexy while doing so. The thought occurred to her that he imagined himself a hero of sorts. It also crossed her mind that if he would only just smile she'd get to see his dimple, but he was absorbed in his task, all tension and brawn, so she was content to recline in his arms until a reasonable explanation was provided.
"I went in after you, of course, which is why we're both drenched through," he explained, as he neared the stairs.
She loved his dulcet tone, when stating the obvious. "Well, that was decent of you. Thank you."
"I decided you deserved to live. Actually, you came to as soon as you hit the water, fortunately for you, because my First Aid is a little rusty... a lot rusty," he said, amusement flickering in his eyes as he paused on the landing. His gaze rested on hers, then drifted to her mouth and furtively downward before he glanced up again. "Now let's get you back to the house," he said, heaving a sigh as he ascended the stairs. He stopped at the ATV and placed her gingerly in a seat. One arm still encircled her waist as he fastened her into her seatbelt with his free hand then reached into the glove box and took out a water bottle. "Here, drink this, you're dehydrated, that's why you fainted."
She realized it would be all downside to suggest the spider had started it all, so she drank instead. "Kay, thanks."
"I'll be right back. You alright for a sec?"
She could tell he was wavering about leaving her unattended which struck her as quaint so she nodded stoically and watched as he sprinted down the steps, pausing momentarily on the dock to check his phone, before scaling the steps in bounds with her shoes and purse.
"Now let's see if these fit," he said as he bent over beside her and set about trying to ease one foot into a shoe. He persisted for a while with nimble fingers but his efforts were in vain so he lifted her foot tenderly to examine it and began gently turning and massaging it. "Your foot is swollen. Looks like you've got some bites, but it seems early for deer flies."
Her response time was impaired by his hypnotic manoeuvrings but eventually she mustered the strength to murmur, "Mosquitoes," all the while silently imploring him to continue. He paused and held her gaze. He was so appealing just then, the pleasure so pure, she was loathe to blink lest he turn away, the feeling gone too quickly.
Unexpectedly his body stiffened and his focus shifted. His deft touch had become clinical and her foot was unceremoniously cast aside and her sodden shoes thrust in a cubby as he revved the engine. From the grudging look he gave her rogue foot she knew two things at once: this amounted to a grave character flaw in his mind and he had just arrived at an unfairly harsh and rash snap judgement. She wondered if it somehow served his purposes to pin any underlying apprehensions about her on her feet. Or. If, in fact, he was merely fighting to contain his revulsion at her swollen hoof, then had she just uncovered evidence of smallness? Such defeatist rumblings consumed her thoughts as they drove on in silence. He was preoccupied, stopping four times to check his unresponsive smart phone, the sole casualty of her dock mishap. It was only after this fourth attempt that she recalled his urgent emails. And then there was light. His alteration was explained as well as the unexpected aloofness and lack of eye contact; he was seething with resentment over his phone.
She put her hand in her purse intending to offer him her own phone but, as if reading her mind, he placed his hand on her arm. When she asked, he demurred. "Don't bother," he said. "Can't use it. It's sensitive material, confidential."
He pulled up beside the tented area and hopped down saying, "If you want to stay here, I'll go track down your father." Then without waiting for a response, he took off into the crowd.
This was, at its heart, a command masquerading as a question, and a silly question to begin with. She was a spectacle, after all, on display and fast becoming a curious diversion for the buffet crowd. She unfastened her belt, got out quickly and hot-footed it in bare feet to the house where she stood dripping just outside the entrance. Katherine, who was instructing wait staff, took one look at her and disappeared, only to reappear moments later with an oversized beach towel which she draped over her shoulders. Hers was a comfort first, ask questions later approach, and she quietly hustled her through the foyer past a roomy book-lined library and up a set of stairs to her bedroom. Katherine smiled receptively as Fanny explained her bizarre predicament, then grinned and laughed indulgently as though Fanny was the perfect antidote to an otherwise dull party. She bustled about the room, then handed her a robe and a change of clothes.
"Feel free to have a shower and a rest," she sang out as she departed and Fanny, eyeing the chaise lounge and feeling buoyed by her host's generous attitude, acquiesced. After stepping out of the shower she put on the robe and inhaled deeply. Vanilla. It was her mother's scent. The last thing she thought about before drifting off on the chaise was Katherine's fantastic library, the ideal addition to a country house. She knew there had to be a reason her father was so fond of the place.
It felt like she had just put her head down when she heard the door open and saw her father creeping in unsteadily with a tray of food.
"Good, you're awake," he said, setting the tray on a side table.
"Thanks Dad. Oh look, cheesy scalloped potatoes and stuffed... quail, is it? And nary a vegetable. You're a saint."
"And pie. You'll note there are two forks. Katherine filled me in on things. How are you doing?"
"Not my finest hour. I'm much better. Katherine has been wonderful and, I don't know, impossibly poised. I feel like such a clod."
"I think she's taken a liking to you. Offered to have us both stay the night, but I said we should get back to Kingston before dark."
"Have you seen Jack?"
"Ah, Jack. Now that's a busy fellow. He caught up to me in the kitchen, just after Katherine had relayed your tale. I barely got a chance to thank him and then he was gone. Took off in that float plane again. Some work thing came up."
"Did he mention me, I mean the dock fiasco?"
"No. Distracted, as I said. But I imagine that sort of thing doesn't ruffle his feathers. All in the course of a day. Constantly putting out fires in his line of work, I suspect."
"Oh...yes, makes sense."
Endeavoring to demonstrate her lack of interest and derail the discussion, Fanny took a bite of quail and began studiously scanning the room for conversation starters. Her eyes fell on something familiar. One of her father's threadbare cardigans was casually draped over an armchair which was surprising since she was certain he hadn't worn one earlier. Her father's eyes followed her gaze and settled on the same cardigan, thoughtfully. Moments later they turned back to the tray and plunged their forks into the scalloped potatoes in unison and she braced herself for the quiet ride home.
5
Fanny slept in the next morning but was surprised to hear the sound of her father still snorting and whistling noisily in bed from behind his closed bedroom door. If his previous day's duties had taken such a toll then she would need to reward him with a revitalizing breakfast. Rummaging through the refrigerator she lucked upon some aging but salvageable strawberri
es and a kiwi and then scrounged up four eggs, some oka cheese, a few bread crusts and marmalade. By sheer chance there was even a package of hash brown potatoes in the freezer, and she thought she'd struck gold when she discovered an anemic tomato and some shriveled green onions in the crisper. She logged onto her father's computer for guidance and was painstakingly decorating his plate with sliced strawberries and arranging clever kiwi leaves when she heard his slippers scuffing down the stairs a half hour later.
"My, such industry," he said, pouring himself a coffee and taking his place at a bar stool at the counter, "but you always were a whirlwind in the morning. Your mother and I got very fond of toaster waffles in bed." His tone was upbeat but he looked done in.
"Feast your eyes on this, I googled the ingredients and Voila!" she said, setting his plate before him.
"Mmmm... frittata."
"You must be in awe of the presentation."
"Yes, yes, of course. Very clever garnishes."
After she finished making tea, Fanny sat down beside him with her own plate and noticed his untouched food. She ate and monitored his progress as he moved his eggs around the plate in a lacklustre fashion.
"What good are my superior breakfast skills if not in the sharing?"
"Sorry dear. Such a shame because it looks delicious, but I haven't got an appetite this morning."
"That's okay Dad." And it was okay, given his weariness, though it did drain the pleasure out of the whole exercise.
She was determined to stay tight-lipped as far as Katherine was concerned. It was, after all, his news to share. They both seemed content with this arrangement, and the subject never arose as they mulled over their plans for the day.
"...and then I have to catch up on some work at the office, so I thought you might like to come downtown and poke about some of your old haunts before I drop you off at the station."
"Sure. I'll go for a walk and window shop."
"That reminds me. I sold all of my old vinyl records from the 60's and 70's on Kijiji. I thought that since it was you who first alerted me to the wonders of Kijiji, you'd earned yourself a finder's fee."
