The Death of Alan Chandler (The Red Lake Series Book 1)

by Rich Foster

  The engine dropped to a growl as the road began to rise. They labored around curves and rapidly gained altitude. The landscape was changed by the clothing of summer. The trees were full, even the light was different, softened by the pools of shade. They swept around the curve where he had drunk his coffee and continued on. Alan watched for the spot where he had left the road. Once or twice he thought it was “the one” but it wasn’t. Then suddenly he realized he had missed it. “The curve” had eluded him and it was already in the past.

  The bus came through the pass at the top of the range. Far below, Red Lake sparkled in the morning sun. Its waters were dark blue like open ocean water. Lines crisscrossed the water marking the course of speedboats and dabs of white and color marked sailboats under way. They descended into the valley and the lake disappeared from view behind the thick pines. Alan opened his window and took a deep breath. The air was already hot, but still held a faint trace of the morning air. He reached up and pulled the stop cord. The bus ground to a halt at the junction with the Red Lake frontage road. Alan took his rucksack and then waited while the driver opened the luggage bay below the bus. He took his suitcase and then surprised the driver by handing him a five-dollar bill. Alan looked him in the eyes and said thank you in an attempt to pass along his pleasure in the day.

  He walked along the road for half a mile. Occasionally he could see a bit of the lake. It was pleasant in the shade. Carrying his bag was easy, for Alan had come out of the woods lean and fit. He realized that he might very easily not have come out at all. He came as close as was possible to being a rotting cadaver in the woods. He might easily have died alone, as Karl had chosen to do. The thought made him revel in being alive! This moment at the precipice of eternity was all he truly had and he found it was enough.

  Alan turned down the lane that led down to their house. Other cabins showed signs of summer occupation but they all seemed to be either in town or down at the lake. He turned into the drive of their cabin and came out into the sun. Whoever had built the house had cleared the trees for a better view of the lake. The water shimmered like liquid silver, as the sun was high in the sky.

  The key was behind the shutter as always. He let himself in and opened every window so that the scent of pine and woodland humus might permeate the house. The front and back door both stood open. He heard the cawing of jays in the woods, the drone of passing motorboats, and the humming of flies. It felt like home.

  In the kitchen he turned on the refrigerator. Later he would bicycle into town for supplies. The pantry was well stocked with canned food and bulk non-perishables. He opened a can of beef stew but when he turned the valve the stove failed to ignite. He remembered he had forgotten to turn on both the propane and the water. He took a crescent wrench from the kitchen junk drawer and went out behind the cabin where he opened the propane tank and switched on the well pump. He heard the sound of water and air hissing from the open taps inside. He let the water run to flush out the pipes. When his lunch was ready he closed all the taps and the silence of the woods settled back upon him.

  He ate his lunch sitting on the front steps of the cabin. The stew was passable but not up to the quality of roast rattlesnake. It was peaceful on the porch and he was content to sit and watch the wind on the water and the boats passing by. The water at the end of their dock was deep enough to navigate but there were enough shallows that the water skies gave the shoreline a wide berth, thus the whine of their engines was muted by distance.

  The sun crept steadily across the sky and Alan did not move. He considered his life. He thought about the need to find a job. He thought about how pleasant it was to have survival for another day taken for granted. The sun dipped and the sky turned crimson. Red Lake now shimmered like a pool of liquid gold, and then the golden color blended with pink and reds. Darkness fell on the woods and still he sat listening and watching. Stars he had come to know came out in the evening sky. Colored running lights on unseen boats would pass on the lake. Now he listened to the night sounds, frogs down by the lake, crickets chirping in the woods, a barn owl calling from a tree up the ridge.

  The night was broken by a loud thump, which reverberated across the water, a far away explosion from the direction of Red Lake City. Suddenly the sky lit up with the multicolored burst of fireworks. He had forgotten that it was the Fourth of July. The night was warm and he strolled down to the end of his dock for a better view as he watched the show. The night was afire with red, blue, white, green and yellow flashes. There were star bursts, and concussion shells. Large multiple stage balls of color exploded. The lights twinkled in the sky and across the water. Then it was over in a cacophony of explosions and peace returned to the woods.

  The next morning Alan wrote a short letter. He then extricated a bicycle from the junk in the tool shed and rode into town. At the gas station he stopped to add air to the tires and then went to the post office where he bought a stamp and sent off his letter. Red Lake market was crowded with summertime tourists. He saw a few familiar faces but he went unrecognized with his leaner and bearded face. He filled his backpack with fresh produce and pedaled toward home.

  At he far end of the business district his eye was captured by a row of kayaks in front of a sporting goods store. Most were new but some were used or on consignment. He thought perhaps he might try it when he could. An attractive woman in her late twenties came out of the store and asked if she could do anything for him. She was tanned with long dark hair pulled back behind her head. Her eyes were glacial blue yet still exuded warmth.

  “We have some great buys. Are you into kayaking?” she asked.

  “Just thinking about it.”

  “Are you up for the summer?”

  “ I just got in. For now I have a cabin down the frontage road. I’m planning to stay on if I can find work.”

  “We’re hiring.” she said and pointed toward the window where a “Help Wanted” sign was partially hidden by the kayaks. It doesn’t pay a lot but we do earn commission. You look like you spend a lot of time outdoors.”

  Alan smiled mostly to himself but the girl returned it and it moved her face from attractive to stunning.

  She extended her hand, “Rachael Kane.”

  “Eric Chandler,” said Alan with conviction. “A pleasure to meet you.”

  They continued to chat and Alan ended up interviewing for the job between interruptions as Rachael stopped to ring up sales or help buying customers. She gave him a job application that was absolutely minimal and he deftly filled it out with his cabins address.

  “You want to start now?” Rachael asked.

  “Why not?”

  So he spent the remainder of the day learning the inventory and how the cash register functioned. He found he enjoyed chatting with customers so the day passed quickly. When it was time to lock up he helped carry the kayaks in while Rachael shut off the display lights.

  “Do you feel like getting a beer?” she asked. “I mean you said you just arrived. If you’re busy it’s no big deal, I just thought that… well you know, it’s happy hour and all that.”

  The invitation made Alan feel as though he were suddenly no longer a stranger but a member of the community. They walked around the corner to a small bar more attractive to locals than the tourists who tended to congregate at the restaurants and bars near the waters edge. The head of a mountain lion stared at him from the wall behind the bar. In the back a group of cowboy types played pool. People would come in and be hailed by shouts, the pleasure of being familiar.

  Rachael and he talked and a drink turned into two, then they decided to grab a bite to eat. He found her funny and easy to be with. Their talk ranged more over things they had done than who they were. They talked a little about business and more about what they would like to do. Rachael suddenly noticed the time on the round neon rimmed clock that hung over the front door.

  “I gotta go. I told my mom I’d stop by today. I should have been there an hour ago.”

  Too soon they wer
e outside. “See you tomorrow! Why don’t you come in about twelve? We’re open late on Fridays.” she called over her shoulder and then she was gone. Alan watched her retreating figure on the sidewalk until she turned the corner. Then he retrieved his bike and rode home in the lingering twilight. Twenty minutes later he parked his bike by the shed, put his groceries away in the fridge and then with a cold beer in hand retreated to the front porch. The night was warm. Occasionally he swatted a mosquito, and occasionally a shooting star would make an ephemeral flight across the sky, but mostly he thought about the possibilities of the future.

  The next morning he was awake early and went for a hike on the shore path that wound twenty-twos mile around the whole circumference of the lake. He was determined to stay in shape. Before, he had let himself slide and become paunchy; the difference now was that he enjoyed being outdoors and exercising. He probably went about three miles out and three back. He had a couple eggs and orange juice for breakfast, once again appreciating the pleasure of food right at hand, with an easy means to cook.

  Alan had showered and dressed, ready to head into town when the front door swung open. Herb Lanski, the Realtor, walked in with a couple in tow.

  “It’s a real beauty I think you will …” the sentence broke off unfinished as Herb realized someone was in the house. “I’m sorry, uh I mean …uh you haven’t rented the house have you sir? I mean nobody said anything to me!”

  “No I’m just staying here until I get settled,” said Alan. He then stuck out his hand, “Eric Chandler”

  “I thought you were …“

  “Dead? No, you’re thinking of my brother Alan.”

  Herb looked painfully confused and the couple looked at each other perplexed by this turn of events. Not wanting to miss a possible sale he drove forward. “Well yes, my condolences of course. Umm…. but in that we’re here, uh do you think we could have a look around?”

  Alan made a sweep with his arm, “Help yourself, they told me the property was for sale. Just shut the door when you go, there’s no need to lock it.”

  Herb wanted to throw his arms around Alan and kiss him. At the last house he had taken this couple to, the seller had endlessly talked about all the vacation home break-ins.” Alan climbed on his bike and wheeled past Herb’s Land cruiser. For the first time in several years he found himself looking forward to being at work.

  That day as Alan read the paper and ate his lunch, a small article caught his eye. “The body of Karl Bjorn was laid to rest at the hilltop graveyard on his ranch. He was interned next to the grave of his wife and those of his parents. Mr. Bjorn was the pilot who was found deceased after his small plane crashed in the local wilderness. Authorities have failed to identify the man who discovered the body, but foul play was never suspected. Mr. Bjorn had no surviving relatives.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  By the middle of July, Alan had a copy of his brother’s birth certificate. He took a drivers test and acquired a license in his new name. He really had no malicious intent in doing it, rather it just seemed he had an opportunity to shed his old self and become someone completely new.

  During August he found a mobile home for sale. It was in a park closer to town and an easy walk to the store. The owner was motivated and the market was weak. Alan negotiated a purchase with nothing down and the owner carrying the note. If he defaulted, the owner would still have the home and done better than if he tried to rent so it was a win-win situation.

  The days of summer quickly passed. The searing heat of July and August gave way to September. Labor day came in a final frenzied fete of the season, and then summer was gone, along with the tourists. Red Lake became peaceable and quite. The nights grew cool and against an expanse of azure skies nature spread he palate of color across the hills. This was the interlude between summer and winter when sailboats gave way to ice boats, fly-fishing became ice fishing and water skiing was replaced by downhill skiing.

  At work he and Rachael found it easy to work together. Temperamentally they blended effortlessly. Both had an innate ability to sense what the other needed before being asked. If one was having trouble with a difficult customer the other was suddenly there to back up, or take over if tempers were being tested. They had common interests. And conversations ranged widely. Both enjoyed being active in the outdoors. He would hike and bike. She taught him how to kayak despite the fact he preferred the dry land. At work they and would trade stories about some newly discovered trail one or the other had encountered while on their day off. One morning Rachael asked him what he had done on Sunday.

  “I did the Three Peaks trail,” he said.

  “It’s great, especially in the fall; you should have called me!”

  Alan was slightly surprised. “I thought you would have enough of me here at work.”

  Rachael gave his beard a playful tug.

  “I guess I am just getting used to your mug! Call me sometime…anytime!”

  So they fell into going out together in search of an untrammeled glen or some seldom fished stream. They admired the woodland beauty and played in the wilderness. Ultimately they found each other’s heart while there.

  On a crisp fall day as they bent their heads together over the veining on a maple leaf, each was suddenly aware of the other in a more proximal way than just space and time. Their heads came up and their eyes mingled in a dance of invitation and welcome. Simultaneously they moved closer together until their lips met and desire that had been stored like energy during the summer sun, poured its power out like the colors of fall.

  And with that kiss Alan felt compelled to tell Rachael who he was. He told the tale of his being lost and how he found himself. He told her of Karl and his loss. He told her of Lilly and where she had gone. At first Rachael was angry, feeling deceived and perhaps a bit frightened. But, as he told his story, she became captivated by it. That afternoon Alan bared his soul in a way he had never done with another human being. Rachael responded and shared with him stories of herself, of hopes and fears, of as yet unrealized dreams. By the time they came down from the mountain they had connected on a level, which helps to create soul mates. They were weaving a future together with the fabric of life.

  Red Lake celebrated October fest and then Halloween. The trees were denuded and the community awaited the onset of winter and the return of snowboarders and skiers. The nights were cold and snow flurries would dust the ground leaving merchants to sweep the walks in front of their stores. Rachael and he worked at preparing the shop for the ski rental trade. They hired seasonal help and stored summer merchandise away. They were almost inseparable, working, playing and sleeping together more nights than not.

  *

  In Beaumont, fall lingered past that in the mountains, but it was almost spent. Leaves were faded and tattered and few yet clung to their branches. While in the distance a cover of snow had settled like a mantle on the mountains. Winds gusted and drove through town driving fallen leaves across the ground to form piles and then scattered them in a dervish whirl once more.

  The November air was biting cold as Charles and Lilly stepped out of the limousine that brought them home from the airport. They had left the ship in the south of Spain and stayed with friends of Charles for a week. They had then flown home from Marbella where the weather had not yet turned, and now shivered at the climatic difference.

  “It’s good to be home!” Charles said with the pleasure of one who knows he does not have to be there if he should chose otherwise.

  “I simply have to get a fur, Charles, if we are going to spend the winter here, I’m almost frigid inside.”

  The front door had opened and Charles’ houseman and housekeeper hurried out. They greeted them politely and then assisted the chauffer who was unloading suitcases from the trunk of the car. While they carried them off, a panel van pulled into the motor court and more suitcases and packages were emptied out.

  Lilly moved quickly in the direction of the front door, a Louis Vitton bag hanging from her arm.
Charles moved with agility to catch up with her before she entered. He swept her up in his arms with the ease of a man who works out in the gym daily.

  “Must you?” said Lilly with thinly veiled annoyance.

  “Certainly, it’s tradition for the groom to carry the bride over the threshold.”

  And then they swept into the house where freshly delivered flowers adorned the mantels and tables, and well-stoked fires blazed in the many hearths.

  Charles set Lilly down lightly and gave her a light kiss. “Be a dear and get me a scotch, will you? I’m going to look through a few things in my office. Charles walked away and his office door closed. Lilly looked around and found the houseman bearing a load of luggage into the entry.

  “Put those down and bring me a Scotch! No ice!”

  The man moved off and Lilly dropped her coat onto a convenient chair. When the drink arrived she ordered him to go and make a vodka gimlet too. Then she walked down the hall and carried the drink into the library and placed it next to Charles, on the desk.

  “I need to go to Denver. It will probably take a few days to a week.”

  Lilly would normally want to go to Denver in that she still knew people there and she would not mind in the least letting them know she was doing so well, but familiarity can breed contempt and she and Charles had spent far too many hours together during the cruise. Once the flames of lust were thoroughly sated, they had ample opportunity to carefully note those habits, which the other possessed to the formers annoyance.

  “That’s fine dear. I really need to settle in and I should probably look after the house.”

  Lilly retreated to the hall where she picked up her drink and headed upstairs for a long and luxuriating bath.