by Susanne Beck
We took sleep, and food, where we could find it, often taking turns navigating or driving while another slept in the cramped cab of Bull’s heavy truck. As I’ve never been one for driving in heavy snow, and Bull seemed to share Ice’s aversion to maps, I spent most of my time smashed between two large bodies, staring out into the Canadian wilderness and counting trees.
And sleeping.
A lot.
And so it was with a great sense of relief that I spied the tall church spire that marked the entrance to the little town where I had spent so many happy summers. It stood as I’d always remembered it, straight, tall, and proud; pointing the way to Heaven for those with no sense of direction, as my father would say every time it came into his view.
The cold air was biting on my face as I accepted Ice’s help and stepped down from the high cab, coming to stand in a snowdrift that reached almost to my hips. I shivered and pulled the down jacket Bull had so chivalrously offered me tight around my chest, digging my cold-numbed hands deep into the pockets.
Ice, true to her nick, stood relaxed, as if standing in drifts of snow half again her height was all in a day’s work for her. I wanted to envy her cool attitude, but upon thinking about the price she had paid for it, reconsidered my thoughts.
I’d settle for shivering any day.
Bull stepped from his side of the truck and came over to say his good-byes, smiling broadly and looking for all the world like a friendly grizzly begging for treats by the roadside.
"Are you sure you don’t want to stop, just for a couple minutes?" I asked. "I know the town doesn’t look like much, but the café’s bound to be open, and the coffee’s really good." Though at that point, they could have served turpentine in a mug and I would have pronounced it delicious, as long as it was hot.
Bull smiled, though it had a touch of sadness to it. "I’m gonna have to take a raincheck on that, if you don’t mind, Ma’am. I’ve got a bunch of hunters waiting for me back at the cabin, and my paycheck’s with ‘em."
I nodded in commiseration. Needing money was something I could certainly understand, much as I sometimes wished that that particular lesson wasn’t quite so easily learned, especially now. "Thank you, Bull. I don’t know what we would have done without your help. You’re a great person."
The resulting blush melted all the snow in a ten mile radius and, unkind though it might have been, I couldn’t keep myself from grinning, then enveloping him in a heartfelt hug. "Take care of yourself, Bull," I said, pulling away. "I mean it."
"You do the same," he replied in kind, squeezing the stuffing out of me one last time for good measure. He jerked his head toward Ice, his eyes never leaving mine. "Take care of her too, ok?"
"Promise."
After Bull and Ice had said their farewells and the big man climbed back in his truck, he waved one last time and pulled away in a plume of white exhaust. I sighed a little, watching until the truck had disappeared back into the endless forest, then pulled myself out of the deep drift and onto the moderately paved road leading into the town.
A small tendril of melancholy wove its way through my soul as I looked down the road and into the town proper. It stood there, desolate and seemingly empty. If green is the color of despair and red, rage, then gray is desolation’s hue. The whole town seemed to be painted with it, as if some suicidal artist had drawn a brush over the entire scene, preserving it forever for entombment in some museum’s misery exhibit.
Summer towns were always like this off-season, I reminded myself. Always waiting, like an inattentive man’s pining pet, for a loving touch and the summer sun to restore color and life to the land.
"You alright?" Ice’s voice came from very close beside me, and I started a bit before settling back down.
"Yeah. Just thinking." And hoping. Praying. During our long flight to freedom, I hadn’t had the time to wonder if this place that I had banked all my dreams on would, in fact, be what I needed for it to be. Seeing it like this, watching as a mournful wind whipped through the towering pines and chased faerie swirls of snow down the empty street, I wondered, for just a moment, if my dream was slowly turning into a nightmare.
Were the dreams of a lonely child enough to build an adult’s life upon? And what right did I have to drag Ice into them with me? A woman who was not here because she had no place else to go, but rather because she had made the choice to try and build a life wherever it was that I wanted to be.
It suddenly became too much responsibility for me to bear. Deep inside, the child who had always lived for the sight of this place suddenly turned away, sobbing in fear.
I almost gave in to the insane urge to run screaming after Bull’s departed truck and beg him to take us away. Far away from this place of empty promises and broken dreams.
I might have done it, too, such was my need to escape, if a long, denim-clad body hadn’t chosen that exact second to interpose itself between me and my view of the village beyond. A strong hand, reddened and chapped by wind and cold, reached out and tipped my chin so that I was staring into eyes the exact color of the sky above. "We’re in this together, Angel. No matter what."
I took only a moment to wonder at her sudden telepathic skills before opening my mouth to respond, watching as my breath plumed into the frosty air upon leaving my lungs. "I know. And that’s what scares me. What if this isn’t right for us? What if I’m just taking us away from one prison and throwing us into another? What if it’s ... ." I dropped my eyes, staring at the blurred lines in her palm. " ...not like I remember?"
"Things in life rarely are, Angel," she replied with her typical, and sometimes brutal, honesty. I looked up to see a slight, sad smile briefly curve her lips. "But if we didn’t take chances, we wouldn’t need dreams. And without dreams ... ."
As her words sunk in, I couldn’t help but return her smile, remembering the evening she told me how her own dreams, dreams of a life with me outside prison walls, had kept her from killing one of her greatest enemies. "Where would we be?" I murmured softly, finishing her phrase.
Tipping me a wink, Ice removed her hand and settled her thin jacket around her trim, well-muscled form. "Where would we be indeed." Hooking a hand round my upper arm, she carefully guided me down the ice slicked road and forward into whatever future this lonely, bleak town portended.
* * *
"Homey," Ice remarked dryly as she took in the sights around her with an amused half-smile.
"I think the word you’re looking for is ‘creepy’." I could feel the weight of a dozen pairs of unseen eyes on my back; waiting, assessing, judging.
Directly in front of me, the town’s only Bed and Breakfast, The Silver Pine, stood in a huge bank of snow. That name had always intrigued me when I was younger. The ‘pine’ part of the name was a given, surrounded as it was by hundreds if not thousands of the species and huddled among them like a Lilliputian in a land of Gullivers.
‘Silver’, however, was a bit of a misnomer, given that I’ve never in my life seen a silver pine tree, unless you counted those spray painted plastic deals they sell at those cut-rate department stores around Christmas time.
I got up the nerve to ask my mother one day. She smiled that infuriating smile that is the patent of mothers everywhere, patted me on the head like a none-too-bright puppy and said, "Poetic license, dear."
And, of course, left me with two questions where only one had existed before.
Despite the incongruity of its name, however, The Silver Pine was a place that I’d remembered with great fondness, not only because of the delicious cookies the owner, Mrs. Carmody, would sneak into my hand when my parents weren’t looking, but also because of the huge old rooms, the exploration of which would take up most of a rainy summer’s day.
It now looked like the hotel straight out of The Shining.
Or perhaps Psycho.
Cassandra’s girlish, malicious giggle bubbled in my mind, adding to the macabre feel of the place. "Shut up," I muttered, chasing down an attack of the s
hivers. "Just shut up."
"Pardon me?" Ice asked, swinging her head in my direction.
"Sorry. Just talking to myself." As usual. C’mon, Angel, snap out of it or she’s gonna think you’ve gone completely ‘round the bend, alright? "This isn’t exactly how I remembered it," I remarked, sharing my brilliant insight with my smirking lover.
"I don’t doubt that." She shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. "The season probably has a lot to do with it, though."
"Yeah, I guess you’re right." I commenced looking around, taking in the combination gas station-auto body shop. It, too, appeared to be deserted, the only sign of life being the neon "Drink Coca Cola" sign winking on and off like some enraged Cyclops’ eye.
Across from that, the small, one story schoolhouse stood, its walk shoveled and carefully salted. And, next to the school, the church, seeming all the more imposing with it’s gigantic stained glass windows displaying colors never seen except in others of its ilk, stood sternly. Churches like this didn’t invite worship. They demanded it.
The only building which displayed at least a modicum of warmth was the long, low-slung café, which also doubled as the town’s only grocery store. The windows were fogged from the inside, and ghostly light filtered out into the darkening day. "I kinda feel like I stepped into the middle of a Stephen King novel."
Snorting softly, Ice turned to face the café. "I think the natives are getting restless. Let’s go assuage their curiosity."
"Sounds good to me," I replied, craving some warmth. "I hope they still serve coffee."
Softly humming the theme from The Twilight Zone, Ice once again took my arm and escorted me to the café.
The blast of heat which came at us as I opened the door almost sent me rushing right back outside again to escape the sudden suffocation. But the smell of coffee, as tantalizing as I remembered, as well as Ice’s firm grip on my arm, spurred me onward.
The café was sparsely populated, even given it’s relatively small size, and stony faces with mistrustful eyes followed us to the counter, making me feel acutely uncomfortable. Screwing on my brightest smile, I slid onto a stool and caught the attention of the café’s waitress, a bleached-blonde with a generous figure and the stub of a slowly smoldering cigarette dangling from her garishly painted lips.
I grinned internally, thinking that if Pony were here with us, she’d be immediately smitten. She always did have a soft spot for ‘cheap and easy’.
"Two coffees, please," I said in my most friendly voice.
The haggard woman eyed us through the blue haze of smoke from her cigarette. "You got money? We don’t give hand-outs here."
"Sure we do," I replied, digging into the pocket of my jeans and coming up with several wadded bills and an odd smattering of lint-covered coins. "It’s American, though. Do you accept that here?" I asked, knowing darn well they did. Come summer, these people would be taking every Abe Lincoln, George Washington, and Andrew Jackson that came across their path.
After a moment’s contemplation, the woman nodded, then turned away to pour us two cups of steaming coffee from the glass pots sitting on the hotplate near the kitchen door. Turning once again, she slid the cups over to us indifferently, the liquid inside sloshing over the rim to pool on the cracked, cigarette-burned Formica that made up the counter top.
I shot a quick glance over to my partner, who was staring placidly into the mirror behind the counter, seemingly unconcerned about the way we were being treated.
We’re gonna have to have a little talk, Ice. After all, what good was it to have the "Beast of the Bog" sitting beside you if she refused to intimidate an incredibly rude waitress into giving better service?
Grunting and stubbing her cigarette out in a nearby ashtray, the waitress grabbed my bills and went to the cash register, returning with a few scattered Canadian coins which she tossed onto the counter.
"Give her the rest of it," came a cool, calm, and oh so deathly soft voice to my right.
The waitress spun, a sharp retort, I’m sure, on her lips. It froze unuttered as she blanched through several shades of pale before finally deciding on ‘I-think-I-just-wet-myself’ white. Looking up into the mirror, I didn’t even bother to hide my smug grin. Ahh, that’s more like it.
"Now."
"I ...don’t know what you’re talking about," the waitress replied, sounding more fearful than ferocious.
From my view in the mirror, I watched Ice’s eyes as they moved from the sign displaying the prices, toward the two coffees sitting on the counter, and back to the waitress. Her face remained completely expressionless.
To give credit where it’s due, the woman didn’t back down from my partner’s intimidating stare until Ice made as if to stand. Then she spun as if all the demons of Hell were at her heels, punched open the cash register, and gave me back the correct change in record time.
"Thank you," I said sweetly, finally sipping my hard-earned coffee.
It tasted even better than I remembered.
* * *
After an hour or so of enduring the coldness of strangers, I’d finally had enough. Even the hot coffee didn’t thaw the chill sitting in my belly at the eyes following my every move, as if my drink was expected somehow to materialize into a deadly weapon with which to kill them all where they sat.
I was decidedly relieved when Ice caught my eye and gave a short nod. Pushing forward a tip that was in no way deserved, I slipped from my stool and grabbed my heavy pack, slipping it over my shoulders and settling it more comfortably onto my back.
Ice did the same and, with a final, measuring look at each and every one of our watchers, letting them know in no uncertain terms that she had a very long and a very good memory, led the way to the door and our escape from the stultifying atmosphere of the café.
Though well below freezing, the chill outside seemed warmer, somehow, than what we had just endured. I stuffed my hands inside the roomy pockets of my borrowed jacket and turned to look at Ice. "Well, wasn’t that just a day at the beach."
Ice shrugged, settling her pack across her shoulders. "Guess they don’t get paid to be nice to strangers in the off-season."
"Guess not." Sighing, I turned to look back at The Silver Pine, which looked as closed and remote as it had earlier. It had been my plan to secure a room there until we could at least get the cabin started, but given my earlier thoughts, even if it had been open for business I don’t think that even a team of horses, wild or otherwise, could have dragged me in there.
Though it was just past mid-day, the sky continued to darken. A huge cloudbank slowly advanced from the west, promising yet more snow. I shivered again, then turned to look at my partner, who was standing calmly in the middle of the deserted street, returning my gaze. The heavy weight of responsibility settled itself on my shoulders once again, a feeling at definite odds with sense of blissful freedom I’d felt here as a child. Maybe what they said was right. Maybe you never really could go home again.
Smiling slightly, Ice came forward and enveloped me in a warm hug, heedless of the stares I could feel all around us. Pulling back, she looked down at me, capturing my gaze effortlessly. "C’mon. Let’s see what we have to work with, hmm?"
Though a woman of relatively few words, Ice well knew how to make the best out of what she had. She somehow managed, as always it seemed, to take my mind off my guilt and put it where it belonged.
Our future.
I hugged her to me tightly in thanks, then pulled away, turning determined eyes toward our destination, seeing the obstacles before me for what they truly were, not impossible chasms, but rather challenges to be met and exceeded.
Nodding to myself, I struck off down the road, Ice casually making her way behind me. When the buildings of the town faded into the mist, I made an abrupt right, stepping off the road and into knee deep snow. "Shortcut," I explained without turning to see my companion’s no doubt amused reaction to the sudden detour.
I felt my heart begin to grow lighter as I walked th
rough the friendly and well loved forest surrounding me. The further I traveled down the game trail, my body instinctively knowing the way without my mind having to shout directions, the younger, it seemed, I became. The trees grew taller somehow. The snow was replaced by a fresh layer of pine needles. The smell of sap was heavy in the air. The birds chorused cheerfully as the light from the slowly setting sun slanted through the woods, warming my skin and putting a smile on my face.
If I closed my eyes, I could just hear the far-off chatter of children playing on the tiny beach down by the sparkling blue lake. I could feel the light, but important, weight of penny candies in my hand as I dodged the shadows and played tag with the sun.
I would have walked right into a deadfall, and likely broken my neck on the sharp and somehow ominous branches, if Ice hadn’t pulled me out of my dream and back into reality with a sharp tug to the back of my jacket.
"Watch yourself," Ice commented mildly as she surveyed the tangle of fallen pines, hands on her hips.
I blinked, feeling the cold, and my adult body and responsibilities, close in around me once again. But somehow, after the gift I’d just been given, neither seemed quite so harsh as before. "This ...wasn’t here before," I replied, feeling a slight blush warming cheeks gone numb with the cold.
Ice just shot me a look, doubtless choosing silence as the better part of valor, especially given my brilliant observation, before returning her attention to the large deadfall blocking our path. "Looks like a detour is in order."
"No problem. C’mon."
It only took a few minutes to return to the trail I’d been following and before I knew it, I could just see the lake past the last of the trees sheltering it. Instead of being the deep, friendly blue I remembered, however, it was landlocked and gray with ice. Great sections of it had been cleared of snow and a huge bonfire blazed near its center. A smattering of children glided back and forth on the ice, most playing what I guessed to be hockey. The sounds of their sticks hitting the ice echoed across the lake.
