by Arthur Slade
I intentionally stayed away from the bookstore. I meandered quickly up and down the streets, not sure what I hoped to find. Finally I saw a sign that said Ye Ol' Ice Cream Shoppe. Luckily I had my wallet in my pocket.
I went inside the air-conditioned store. It was small, the whole counter was see-through glass with pail after pail of multi-colored ice cream behind it.
"Hello there," an old man said. He had a white cap on and his shirt was like a hockey referee's. It said Mr. Scoop on the front. "What flavour can I do for you today?"
I shrugged. Looked through the glass.
"There are so many choices." It was ice cream heaven.
"I'd recommend Tiger, Tiger," he said. "It's the perfect taste for this kind of day."
Immediately I started to salivate. I hadn't eaten anything for hours. "Yes, please. Just a small cone."
He grabbed a cone and started scooping up the ice cream. When he was finished he stood and handed a heaping orange and black mass of Tiger, Tiger to me.
"That's as small as we go here," he explained.
I smiled and slid a dollar coin and two quarters over to him. I licked the cone. It tasted perfect. "Uh ... is ... Brand around?"
"Brand?" He raised one eyebrow and winked at me. I didn't get the joke. "Brand's just finishing up in the back."
As if on cue, Brand came out. "All done," he announced then he looked at me, smiled. "Hey ... hi! It's Sarah, right?"
"Yes. I ... " I paused. Was I blushing? "I came to take you up on your offer ... to ... uh ... show me around."
"Good." He waved at the man. "See you, Scoop."
We went outside, down the sidewalk.
"You know," he said softly, "I heard about your grandfather. I just want to say I hope he's okay."
"Me too," I answered. "How did you hear?"
"My best friend's dad is on the force. Derrick Roberts."
"Oh ... Sergeant Roberts ... I met him." I paused. "Did your friend know anything about what's going on?"
"Just that they were still looking. That's all he told me."
We walked a little ways in silence.
"He's a tough old guy, " Brand said, "He'll pull through."
I nodded, but I couldn't take comfort in his words. Because something had entered my room last night that I had never seen or felt before. If it could tear holes in the cabin and kill Hugin like snapping a toothpick, what chance did Grandpa have? I shivered.
Brand pointed at a long narrow street to our right. "Why don't we walk up this way—we can see the lake then. Boardwalk is just up here."
"Sure."
We changed direction. I finished the last of my cone. The center of my stomach felt cold as if the ice cream refused to melt.
"So where are your two friends?" Brand asked.
"Uh ... Michael and Sarah went home. They had to get back to do some ... stuff. They're not my friends though ... Michael's my brother and Sarah's my cousin. But I like them just as much as friends. Most of the time, that is."
"I thought you all looked alike, especially you and Michael."
"He's my tvíburi."
"Your what?"
I shook my head. Why was I suddenly speaking another language? "My twin, sorry. Tvíburi is an Old Icelandic word that Grandpa says is the origin of the English word twin. But yeah, we're twins. Not identical twins, of course."
"Twins! That's cool! You guys ever have any of those twin things happen? You know he stubs his toe and your toe feels sore ... that kind of thing?"
"Well ... I'm not sure," I answered. My right ankle suddenly tingled with pain—the same ankle Michael had hurt. Could there be a connection? I wondered.
Brand was staring at me. I blushed. "Uh ... sometimes I know when he's just about to make a bad joke."
"I guess that's the same thing." Brand paused. "So you're here by yourself then. Where are you staying?"
"Um ... " For some reason I didn't want to mention Althea's name, almost as if she might hear me and come running. "At a woman's place. A friend of Grandpa's. Andrea."
"Andrea who?"
"I can't remember her last name. She lives just past Grandpa's house."
"East, West, North or South?"
"I'm not sure."
Brand nodded. He was staring at me, almost as if he didn't believe anything I was saying. "I thought I knew most everyone up that way. I guess I don't."
"I think she just moved into her house recently." Now I was outright lying to him. I had to change the topic. "How far is it to the lake?"
"We're almost there." A few steps later he cleared his throat as if getting ready to say something important. Was he going to call me an out and out liar? He turned to me, a worried look on his face. "You know ... I don't want you to take this in a mean way but ... you look really bad."
I had a sudden flash image of how I had appeared in the bathroom mirror, hair pointing in all directions. I don't imagine I had gotten any prettier. I wanted to be at my best around him. "It's ... I've been through a lot ... that's all."
"Well, we don't have to walk any farther ... we can just go sit somewhere."
"I—I actually don't mind walking. It'll help keep me awake. And ... uh ... I like talking to you too."
He smiled. A very handsome smile. A moment later we went past the last building. We were on Gimli's boardwalk and the lake now appeared in front of us. Brand spread out his arms, sounding like a circus announcer, "Here's the wonderful wacky world of Lake Winnipeg." There were a few motor boats out, one or two sailboats. Seagulls were darting through the air. I suddenly realized that even though my life had been turned upside down and inside out, the rest of the world carried on as it always had.
There were a few clouds forming in the distance. But here we were splashed with bright, warm sunlight. I still felt cold though, as if nothing could heat up my bones after the night before.
"I spend a lot of time here in the summer," Brand was saying. "Water-skiing and fishing and stuff. Have you ever tried tubing? You know—where they drag a tire tube behind a boat. Do they have that in the States?"
"Yes, of course! But I haven't tried it yet."
He smiled. Ran a hand through his short hair. "It's absolutely wild."
We went a bit farther down the walkway. Brand waved at some kids our age out on a motorboat, and they waved back, then made a sharp turn sending a huge wave rolling our way. I could hear them hooting with joy. That was the kind of fun I wanted to be having right now.
"This lake is huge," I said.
Brand nodded. "I know. My grandma and grandpa used to bring me out here when I was a kid and tell me stories about the lake. It was even bigger during the ice age, it covered most of this part of the province ... it was called Lake Agassiz or something like that. Kinda makes you realize how old this place is."
We walked by a giant statue of a Viking. I couldn't help thinking of all the Icelandic people who had settled here. Including my ancestors. I could use their strength and help right now.
"Are your grandparents still around?" I asked.
"Uh ... Grandpa died last year. But Grandma's still here. The only person I know who could tell stories as good or better was your grandpa—is something wrong, Sarah?"
"I ... " I held my stomach. "I just feel sick suddenly." I knew what it was—just mentioning Grandpa was affecting me. Making my stomach turn with fright.
Then a second wave of nausea swept over me and I felt as if I would black out. The bright sky disappeared, the clouds swirled around me. I knew I was hallucinating. I was buried in dirt and I couldn't move my limbs. I smelled smoke and for one brief moment a face hung in front of me, with a twisted mouth and large, moon-colored eyes. Then I heard a pounding sound, the creaking of wood. A snap.
A moment later it all disappeared. The sky was blue. Brand was saying something I couldn't understand and my knees were shaking.
"Can ... can we sit down?" I asked.
He helped me to a bench and we sat. I breathed in and out slowly, trying to
steady myself. Finally, my stomach returned to normal.
"What was that all about? Your eyes rolled back into your head. I thought you were going to pass out."
"I just got a very powerful feeling of my Grandpa. He's in trouble."
"What do you mean?"
"I ... I don't know. Just a gut feeling, I guess. Like Grandpa was buried or something."
"Really?"
"Yes ... really." I decided it was time for me to take a chance. "Uh ... have you ever noticed how ... weird this town is?"
Brand laughed. "Weird? Of course, it's what makes us such a great tourist attraction."
"I mean really weird. Scary weird."
He looked suddenly serious. "What do you mean? Did something happen?"
Then I just started talking, not caring if he thought I was some crazy American girl. I described the little boy in the trees and explained how something had broken the window in the cabin. I spoke until I was tired, describing as much as I could. Brand stared seriously at me through all of this, his jaw muscles clenched.
When I was finished he took my arm. "C'mon," he said.
"Where to? The loony bin?"
"No," he said. "I know what we have to do."
15.
Brand wouldn't tell me where we were going. He led me back into town and I followed him like a zombie.
He pulled me into an old restaurant with a jukebox and black and white pictures of hot rod cars on the wall. He guided me to a booth and sat on the other side. Before I could even open my mouth to ask him a question, the waitress popped up in front of us as if she just risen through a trap door. Her blonde hair was in a ponytail—she looked like a character from an Archie Andrew's comic.
"Whattya want?" she asked.
"Coke, please," Brand said.
"Hot chocolate, " I answered.
She narrowed her eyebrows. "Hot chocolate? It's twenty some degrees out there, dear."
"Please," I said.
She smiled. Shrugged. "Sure thing. You kids are into the weirdest stuff these days."
After she left Brand said, "Just sit here, okay. I'll be back in a second."
"Uh ... sure."
He stood up and went outside. I watched him walk past the front of the restaurant. He waved and gave me a quick smile. I leaned closer to the window and twisted my neck to see where he was going. He went a little further down the sidewalk and stopped at a pay phone. What was he doing?
The woman appeared with the hot chocolate. I drank, feeling it heat up my stomach. I took another sip and another.
Brand returned a few minutes later.
"Is it helping?" he asked.
"Is what helping?"
"The hot chocolate? Do you feel any better?"
"Yes." I finished off the rest. "It's a lot better now."
"Do you think you really felt what was happening to your Grandpa or was it your imagination?"
I paused. The answer came from deep inside me. "No. For a second I was seeing what he saw. Don't you find that a little crazy?"
Brand shook his head. "No. I ... uh ... when my grandfather died I saw his spirit. Just kind of floating in front of me. And he said something, then smiled and was gone."
"What did he say?"
"He told me to get good grades."
"What! You're kidding."
"No. He used to say that to me all the time. He wanted me to become a history professor someday."
"Are you saying that was Grandpa's ghost I saw?"
"No. I just think that we are all connected in some mysterious ways. Especially with our own kin."
"So do you mean Grandpa was sending me a message?" I asked.
Brand sipped from his coke. "Yeah ... kind of, I guess. I don't know. This just means he's alright."
"For now," I added, and once I said it I realized Grandpa wouldn't be alright for long. He was in danger.
Something else was bothering me. "Who were you talking to on the phone?"
"The phone?" He paused. "Oh ... yeah ... there's—"
Just at that moment the door to the cafe swung open. Althea swept in, her face set in grim lines.
"—someone I want you to meet."
Althea pointed at me like she'd just caught a jewel thief. "I've been looking for you, Sarah."
16.
"Oh ... you two know each other." Brand seemed worried. "You didn't tell me that, Grandma."
"I didn't want you to inform her I was on my way." Althea still looked like she was about to explode. She loomed closer to me. "You shouldn't have run away, Sarah."
"I'm not going home, " I said, surprised at the serious tone of my voice. Almost as if someone else were speaking through me.
"Not today, you're not ... the bus is gone." She was now right in front of me, glaring down. "But you will tomorrow. I made a promise to your grandfather and I'm going to keep it."
"But—" I started.
"Don't argue with me, Sarah." I knew she wasn't making a request. "You and Brand will come with me now."
I sighed. Everyone was pushing me one way, pulling me another. How much more of this could I take? I left money on the table and we followed Althea. Once outside Brand turned to me. "I didn't know you knew Grandma. I didn't mean to get you into trouble."
"I'm sorry, " I said quickly, "I didn't tell you everything. I should have."
We got into Althea's truck and she started it up. "Where are we going?" I asked.
"Home. Where I can keep a close eye on you. I might even be tempted to tie you up."
It didn't sound like she was joking.
With that Althea was silent and we drove all the way to her home without speaking another word. We pulled into the yard, parked in her driveway, got out and followed her into the house. "You might as well head straight into the backyard." Althea motioned towards the patio. "Just don't run away."
I walked solemnly through the living room, slid the door open.
Sitting on a lawn chair, in sunglasses, t-shirts and shorts, were Angie and Michael. Michael sat up when he saw me. "Hey, Sis!"
"What are you guys doing here?"
Michael smiled. "Just wondering if we should be mad at you or not."
"Mad at me, for what?"
"For leaving us at the bus depot," Angie cut in. "For not telling us your getaway plan. Nice cousin you are."
"Well ... " I paused. "I'm sorry it just kinda happened. I really should have somehow told you guys."
Michael shrugged. "It's okay. Once we figured out you were gone Althea changed our tickets to tomorrow, so we get to stay an extra day. Of course we aren't supposed to take a step outside this yard." He paused. "She was a little P.O.'d at you."
"I figured that out." I sat on the edge of a weathered bench.
"She'll get over it," Brand said, settling himself on a lawn chair next to me. "She forgives and forgets pretty fast. It's part of being a Grandma."
"I heard that!" Althea was standing at the door, right behind us. I turned. She had a container of iced tea in one hand and several glasses in the other. "I forgive people, Brand. But I've got the memory of an elephant. You should know that by now. Remember when you broke my favorite dish because you thought it would make a great frisbee?"
Brand looked a little sheepish. "Uh ... sorry, Grandma," he said.
"It's alright, I forgive you." She came out and set the container and glasses on the round wooden picnic table. She sat down and stared at us. "I think it's time we all had a little talk."
"About what?" I asked.
"I want you to tell me everything you saw and heard last night. Everything. Even if you think it's strange."
"And ... " I started, not sure if I had the guts to pull it off, " ... what do we get in return?"
Althea narrowed her good eye, gave me a piercing look. I stared back. "What do you mean?" she asked after a few moments.
I couldn't hold her stare. I glanced down, then back up at her. "I ... uh ... we want to know what's happening. There are things Grandpa didn't tell u
s—that you aren't telling us. And we want to know what they are. You can't just keep secrets from us because we're young. We're old enough to handle it."
"She's right," Michael added. "We want the truth."
Althea sat brooding for a moment then she looked directly at me. "You do have Grettir's blood."
I didn't know exactly what she was talking about, but I nodded as if I understood.
Althea looked me up and down. Then stared at Angie and Michael. "Perhaps I've underestimated you. All of you. Maybe it would have been better if I'd told you the truth from the beginning." She paused for another second. "Alright," she said, "I'll tell you everything I know, and you can deal with the nightmares and the possibilities—it's a deal. But first each of you give me your version of what happened. And don't leave out the smallest detail."
Again we spoke about seeing the little boy in the forest and how he had disappeared. Then we all recounted what we could remember about Grandpa's disappearance. Althea nodded and listened closely, asking very few questions. When we were done she sat back. She seemed to believe every word.
"Were any of you hurt or bruised or touched by this visitor?" she asked.
"Yes," Michael said. He moved his legs, displaying the circular purple bruise around his ankle. It looked even worse than this morning. "I don't remember exactly how this happened, but I know it was last night while I was dreaming."
Althea examined his ankle closely. "It's very deep bruising. Does it hurt?" she asked.
"A little, yes," Michael answered. "It's just kind of numb."
Althea rose slowly and went into the house. We were all silent. I looked around the backyard. There was a garden growing there, corn stalks stood straight and tall. There was also a red truck next to a small shop.
Althea came back a few seconds later with a white plastic jar. She dipped her hand in and pulled out a wad of greenish lotion then rubbed it around Michael's ankle. Once finished she sat back and tightened the lid on the jar. "How does that feel?"
"Much better." Michael was staring at his ankle, a look of awe on his face. "It's tingling and it feels ... alive, I guess."
The bruises already appeared to be fading.
