by Nicole Young
“Not Cuba,” I said. “I think I’ll try Canada this time. Always wanted to go there.”
Puppa got a startled look on his face. “What’s so interesting about Canada? It’s no different than here.”
I gave a shrug. “This whole Brad thing, the lodge thing… I don’t know. Makes me want to head to Canada.”
Puppa was slow to respond. “I guess Canada is as good a place as any. You’ll have to make sure you stay off the beaten track, though. Don’t want to leave a trail.”
“I’ll just go where the trail leads me.” I kept my voice nonchalant. Puppa didn’t need to know that last time I saw Candice, she mentioned her escape plans to Canada. With a little help from some friends, I might be able to track her down-and bring her to justice.
Would that change Brad’s mind about dying? Probably not. But it would help me stay focused on living. With my heart still crushed from my visit to River’s Edge this afternoon, and nothing better to do, I figured hunting down Candice LeJeune would give a feeling of purpose to my otherwise aimless existence.
“So,” I said, pushing my chair away from the table and clearing off my spot, “if you don’t mind, I need to borrow your computer.”
Puppa complied, a dazed look across his face as he set me up on his Internet connection.
“Thanks.” I tapped the keys, typing a greeting to Koby. Puppa hovered over my shoulder a minute, then left the room.
“How are Celia and Portia doing?” I asked first thing in the email. Then I got right to the point. “I need a favor,” I wrote. “I need help finding a missing person.” I was sure my grandfather had already used the means at his disposal to find Candice, but maybe Koby had a fresh approach up his sleeve that would pin her down. I gave him the rundown on Candice: full name, where she lived, where she was born, approximate age, physical description, occupation, the car she owned, and a fairly accurate account of why I wanted to find her, minus the revenge bit.
“I really hope you can help me,” I added. “She’s the love of my grandfather’s life. It’s kind of my Christmas present to him.” I cringed at my own duplicity even as I put grandfather’s phone number on the bottom to speed the process. Then I hit the Send button. With any luck Koby would be at his computer, able to hear the ding of new mail.
I paced the length of the lake house, dining room to living room and back, watching dusk disappear into night.
Puppa had turned the television on low and was laughing at some oddball detective and his daffy assistant as they went around LA solving murders. I wondered if they were astute enough to unravel the mystery of Jane Rigg’s death. Then again, they were just actors. Probably couldn’t do anything without a script.
An hour passed. The show ended with the bad guys getting carted off by the police and the detective conquering another personal challenge. Outside, the bay was covered by darkness. The only sight was my own reflection in the windows as I wore a path on the wood floor.
“Patricia, come sit. What are you so anxious about?” Puppa patted the open spot next to him on the love seat.
I stopped and fiddled with my hands. “Oh, just worried about Brad. I’m more and more convinced that he’ll never change course.” My voice hitched. “It’s hard, you know, accepting him giving up like this. I just don’t understand it.”
Puppa stood and came over to the windows, staring through his own image to the blackness beyond. “It is hard. But for Brad, it’s an understandable choice. Health was important to him. He’ll never have that again.”
The tension in my chest exploded. “It’s not understandable.” I was a mass of ranting rage. “Of course health was important to him. It’s important to everybody. But when something like that happens, you make the best of it. I know plenty of people who had bad things happen to them and they didn’t give up on life. They kept on living. They walked again even though they didn’t have legs. They worked again, even though they were stuck in a wheelchair. They loved again, even though their hearts had been cut out by greedy pimps.” I flung around and stared him in the eyes. “Brad’s choice is not understandable. And it’s not acceptable. But if that’s how he wants it, then Brad is safe from me. I can’t bear to see him like that. It kills me. And if there’s one thing I plan on doing, it’s living.”
Puppa stared at me, a dumbfounded look on his face.
I took a deep breath, gearing up for Act Two, when the phone rang. The digital tones jarred me out of my rampage.
Puppa answered and handed me the phone. “It’s for you.”
“Thanks.” I snuck off to Grandma Olivia’s old room and shut the doors.
“It’s Koby,” came the voice on the other end. “How are you holding up? You ditched us for the holidays, huh?” I tried to smile. “I’m doing good. But I need to get this item taken care of so I can get back to Del Gloria. How are Celia and Portia doing?”
“Portia’s home and healing,” he said. “They told her to plan on six weeks before she could get back on the project. Celia’s out of the woods, but will probably be off the team for the duration.”
Guilt swelled up in that already overwhelmed area of my chest. How could I do my part for the team if I was chasing down Candice LeJeune? I made some calculations. It was December 23. That left two weeks before the new semester at Del Gloria. If I worked quickly, I could do what had to be done Candice-wise, and still get back to California to help the team finish on time.
“I’m glad the girls will be alright,” I told Koby. “But I feel so terrible. If it weren’t for me, Simon Scroll would never have firebombed that place.”
“How could you have known? We’re just glad you’re okay.”
I swallowed, humbled. “So. What did you find out?” “It was pretty tough without a social security number,” Koby said. “But I did what I could. Which do you want first, the good news or the bad news.”
I closed my eyes. “Good news first.”
“I found a trail. Leads to a place called Churchill Falls. Middle of nowhere. Like falling off the edge of the world. Travel was booked for-”
I heard the sound of paper crinkling.
“Here it is-late May.”
“That’s it.” My heart raced. Only a matter of time. “What’s the bad news?”
“She never arrived. Never used the tickets. Changed her plans. I don’t know.”
I looked around the bedroom and gave a discouraged sigh. “Back to square one, huh?”
“Not necessarily. Ask yourself, who does she know in Churchill Falls? What made her choose that place over any other?”
I shrugged. “Beats me. I never heard of it. She was probably just hoping to disappear.”
“Maybe. But most people select a location for a reason. They don’t just disappear without thinking it through. Weird thing is, Churchill Falls is a company town. Population seven hundred. Exists solely for the employees of the world’s largest underground hydroelectric plant. Not exactly a tourist trap or a hot retirement spot. Makes it pretty hard to blend in. Maybe she’s visited there before. Maybe she has friends, family, a job opportunity. Can you check around and see if it rings any bells with anyone?”
“Candice is a photographer. Why would she relocate to the end of the world?”
“To take pictures? I can guarantee she’s not there taking soil samples. The place is practically in the Arctic Circle. Temps get pretty nippy.”
“Can I ask… how did you find these travel plans?”
“If I tell you, I have to kill you.”
I smiled and shook my head. “What if…” I squeezed my eyes shut and thought for a moment, “what if Candice wanted people to think she’d gone to this place, but then didn’t go. Maybe headed the opposite direction?” “It’s possible. But it’s also possible that something prevented her from going there. I checked later lists, for both air and land travel, but never came up with that name. But she could have changed her name and arrived later.”
“Hmmm. Or, maybe she just drove.”
“Doubtful. There’s one road in and out of that place. It’s pretty desolate.”
“So how do I get there?”
“You’re crazy.”
“I’m serious. I have to check out this lead. Just in case.”
“It’ll boggle your mind.”
“Try me.”
“You asked for it. Hypothetically, you could get on a plane leaving Marquette tomorrow and land three stops and one day later in a place called Goose Bay. From there you could take Provincial Air to Churchill Falls. But not until the twenty-sixth. No flights Christmas Day.”
“Book it.”
“What?”
“Please, Koby. I’m on a mission. I have to find this woman and get back to California before the semester starts. No dilly-dallying.”
“You haven’t heard the price tag.”
“Price doesn’t matter. I’ll spend my last dime if it means finding Candice.”
“Some Christmas present. Your grandfather must really love her.”
I swallowed and gritted my teeth. “Oh yeah. Yeah. He sure does. Getting her back would be the best Christmas present ever.”
“Alright, then. I’ll book your travel and email your itinerary to you. Your flight leaves tomorrow at 2:30 from Marquette. When do you want to return?”
“Give me a week. That should be long enough.”
“With travel time, that puts you back in Port Silvan on Jan third. I’ll give you a couple days to recover, then you’re taking a flight to Del Gloria. I’m booking it now. You WILL be on that plane.”
I gave a quick laugh. “Thanks, Koby. You’re the best. I’ll transfer the funds tomorrow.”
“And Tish-it sounds weird to call you that-God go with you. Do what you have to, then get back here where we need you most.”
I nodded, though his words brought only a vision of Brad lying in River’s Edge, longing for my return.
“Thanks, Koby. You’re a true friend.” I hung up the phone, hoping I’d find the energy, and the courage, to do what needed to be done.
31
First thing in the morning, I headed to the bank to take care of financial details. With a little finagling, I was able to access my accounts.
“Lucky for you your estate hasn’t reached probate yet,” the teller reported. “Thought for sure you were dead. The church ladies put on a good funeral luncheon. Heard the food was delicious.”
“Nope. Just a big misunderstanding.” I cleared my throat. “I hope you’ll keep my visit confidential. To some people, I’m better off dead.”
She nodded, her brown hair bobbing. “I understand. It’s all hush-hush where I’m concerned.” She counted out the cash I requested and put it in an envelope.
I smiled and thanked her, figuring it didn’t matter if she blabbed about my return. I was flying out in a few hours anyway.
Back at Puppa’s, I took a few moments to tie up loose ends. Scrounging up a piece of stationery from his office, I sat down to write.
Dear Professor Braddock,
Thank you for allowing me to stay in your beautiful home and helping me further my education. I am enclosing a check, an approximate payment in full for all the expenses you incurred during my stay, including tuition.
I am no longer in need of your patronage and will make my own arrangements for lodging when I return to Del Gloria next semester.
Many blessings,
Patricia Amble
I stared at the note. Couldn’t be more to the point than that. At least now he could start looking for a new heir. I didn’t want anything from him. Not after the way he’d dealt with Brad.
My pen slipped out of my hand and I covered my face at the memory of the exchange between Brad and his estranged father. Here I’d been caught up in my own family’s dysfunctions when all along Brad had a wacky family too. But with Brad, you never knew it. Before his injury, he didn’t obsess over the fact that he was half orphan like me. He’d come to terms with his parentage.
Sadly, Brad’s state of mind had changed in the past seven months. Even though I was angry with Denton, I still empathized with the professor when it came to Brad’s lifetime of treating him as less than a father. What else could Denton do but use greed and jealousy to try to get Brad back on his feet? I’d stooped to low tactics myself. At this point, anything was worth a try.
Already weary, I sealed and stamped the letter. I would drop it at the post office on my way to the airport.
Upstairs, I repacked my meager belongings. When I was done, I sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the suitcase that belonged to Denton. I’d scrounged it from his attic before I took off on my jaunt from Sacramento to Manistique. The contents fell short of appropriate for winter gear for the Upper Peninsula I could only imagine how inadequate my clothing would be in a place like Churchill Falls, the day after Christmas.
Another cup of coffee, then out to the waiting truck. Puppa had agreed to drive me to the airport, but only after some major convincing.
“Who would think to look for me in a place like Churchill Falls? Come on, it’s the perfect hideout.”
He shook his head, doubtful. “Too small. Too remote. Too far away.”
“Like I said, it’s perfect.” I didn’t tell him I’d be returning in a little over a week. He might not be as open to driving me if he thought I’d deceived him.
On our way out, I waved to my horse. Poor Goldie. Would I ever get a chance to spend time with her? My life felt like one of those rides I used to love at the fair when I was young. Life spun so fast, I spent most of my time plastered to the wall. And when things slowed down, I was too motion sick to feel like doing much of anything. It seemed any attempt to slam on the brakes backfired, only adding to the chaos. Still, I couldn’t help but feel there were just a few more loose ends flying in the breeze. Once those were tied up, I’d have that peaceful, serene life I wished for.
We drove through town, passing the bank, Sinclair’s
Grocery, and the Silvan Bay Grille. I pointed to the post office.
“Can you stop a minute? I’ve got a letter to mail.”
Puppa pulled up to the drop box and posted it for me. Then we were headed to Sawyer International, a fancy name for the airport south of Marquette. Past the sign for the cider mill, where I turned to get to Candice’s house for tea every Thursday. Past the sign for Valentine’s Bay Lodge, the house Sam and Cousin Joel stole from me. Past Silvan Corners and onto US-2, headed west, the same direction I’d taken that day I’d run away from everything… and everyone. A quick stop at the convenience store in Rapid River, then north on 41.
“You sure about this?” Puppa asked as we neared our destination.
“Very.”
“You don’t know anyone there. How are you going to get along? How will you get a job? Where will you live?” Puppa asked.
“Come on,” I said, swatting his arm. “You’re taking all the adventure out of it. It’s not fun if you’ve got everything planned ahead.” I stole a glance his way. “Have you even heard of Churchill Falls before now?”
To my surprise, he nodded. “Once. A long time ago.” I gave him a questioning look.
“Jake, your dad, was looking into it when he was young,” Puppa said. “Thought he’d like working at a power plant. A lot like the paper mill, he figured. But, I never heard of it again.”
My brain churned. “Do you think…”
“No,” Puppa cut me off. “I already looked into it. No Jacob Russo in Churchill Falls.”
The snap in his voice shut down the topic.
I stared at the snow-covered pines flying past and tried to swallow the lump in my throat. Why did I even get my hopes up when it came to my father? Couldn’t I just accept the fact the guy had dropped off the face of the planet, or more likely was dead? But it seemed the fairy-tale princess inside me wanted to believe in magic. Wanted to believe she had a father out there somewhere who wasn’t a penniless frog, but a king in disguise, ready to throw a banquet for his long-lost daughter the mome
nt of their reunion.
My knuckle caught an escaping tear. I slouched in my seat, afraid to say anything more in case my voice came out a pathetic croak.
We followed the signs to the airport. Puppa parked the truck and came inside the clean, modern facility, visiting with me as I printed my boarding pass at the kiosk, then brought my suitcase to the small-town baggage checkpoint where my luggage was inspected on a table while I watched. The guard rubbed circular white pads on the inside surfaces, in case I was some terrorist with bomb-making residue on my clothing. Other passengers scrutinized the process as they waited in line, leaving me glad I packed my undies on the bottom. The security officer put the chemical pads under a sensor, then gave me the green light.
Puppa and I headed toward the waiting area, where he could sit with me until the boarding call. At that point, airline passengers would go through security screening to a separate waiting area that had everything but a restroom.
“There’s no guarantee you’ll be safe from Majestic and his goons even in Churchill Falls, you know,” Puppa said.
“I know. But I figure if anyone gives me trouble, law enforcement can step in.”
“I don’t know if you’re faithful or foolish, Patricia. Sometimes you ask God to perform a miracle to cover your back, when you’re someplace you shouldn’t be to begin with.”
I gave a nervous chuckle, remembering my bargain with God on the cliff that day. God had certainly held up his end of the deal and got me out of my tight spot. But here I was, about to do something else stupid. Was God obligated to rescue me from this whopper of a mission, or had he already done his part and could now just sit back and laugh as I dangled from the next tricky spot? With revenge my prime directive, I resolved it was too much to ask of God to go with me anyway. I’d have to leave God here at Sawyer International and hope he’d be waiting for me when I returned.
The call for my flight came over the loudspeaker.
Puppa stood. “Well, Patricia. I’m going to miss you. I wish you could have stayed put awhile. I sure enjoy your company.”
