Memories of You

by Margot Dalton

  Jon knelt and patted the two drowsy cats, then turned to Camilla again.

  “If you’re not in the middle of a test session, maybe we could all go out for ice cream. What do you think?”

  “Oh, Jon, I’m not sure if…”

  She searched frantically for an excuse, but the children were shouting with excitement and tugging at her.

  “All right,” she said in defeat. “Let me get my sweater. Ari, you can put Madonna on the balcony if she wants to go out.”

  Soon they were walking together down the leafy path, each of them holding a child’s hand. The twins carried the conversation, peppering both adults with questions so the silence between them wasn’t too obvious, though Jon frequently glanced at her with a quizzical expression.

  They went into the cafeteria and selected their icecream cones, then strolled back outside. Jon and Camilla sat on a bench while the children raced up and down the path.

  Jon leaned back, extending his legs comfortably, and squinted at the sky. “Looks like a change in the weather,” he commented. “See how the clouds are massing all along the mountains? I wouldn’t be surprised if we had a snowstorm before the weekend’s over.”

  Camilla shivered and hugged her arms. “The summer’s been so short,” she murmured. “I don’t think I’m ready for winter.”

  Melancholy washed over her in a suffocating wave. She could see her whole existence stretching ahead of her, like a bleak, cold winter that would never turn to spring.

  But life was no different than it had always been, she told herself. Until this autumn, she’d been reasonably contented with her apartment and her two cats, her schedule of classes and research and the weekend work at the hostel.

  Of course that was before Jon Campbell walked back into her life and turned her world upside down….

  “What’s up?” he asked, glancing at her as he stretched his arm casually along the back of the bench, touching her shoulder.

  She pulled away from him slightly. “What do you mean?”

  “You seem a little sad today. Is there anything I can do to help?”

  Camilla gripped her hands tightly in her lap and took a deep breath. “Jon…”

  “Yes?”

  “How’s Steven? Have you been able to talk to him at all?”

  “Not much. He’s still pretty moody and withdrawn. Why do you ask?”

  “I just wondered.”

  She’d do something about it right away, she promised herself again. As soon as possible she’d talk to the other kids and find out where Zeke was staying these days. Then she’d go and talk to the boy, see if she could get him to understand the utter foolishness of what he was planning.

  Maybe it wasn’t even true, Camilla thought with a faint surge of hope. Perhaps all Zeke’s talk about this robbery was only more bravado….

  “Camilla?” Jon said gently. “What is it?”

  “Nothing.” She shook herself and looked down at her hands. “I was about to have a talk with the twins when you arrived. I guess I’ll have to tell them next week.”

  “Tell them what?”

  “I’m terminating my research.”

  “Why?” he asked in surprise. “I thought everything was going really well.”

  “It’s been fine. I just…”

  “What?”

  “I want to…sever this connection.”

  “Between you and me?” he asked, still watching her closely.

  “Yes. I’m not comfortable with what’s been happening, Jon.”

  “I see.” He settled back, his face grim.

  Camilla stole a glance at him, feeling wretched. “Please don’t misunderstand,” she ventured. “You’re a…” She swallowed hard. “You’re a very attractive man, and I’m fond of your children, too. I just don’t feel ready to get involved in a relationship at this time. That’s all.”

  “Oh, I understand well enough. If you don’t want anything to do with me,” he said quietly, “then I’ll certainly leave you alone. But I wish you wouldn’t abandon my kids.”

  “I’m not abandoning them!” she said, stung by the implication. “I’m merely…terminating a research project.”

  “Come on, Camilla. Both those kids love you, and you know it. How can you do this so easily?”

  “Do what?”

  “Allow people to fall in love with you, and then cut them adrift without a pang of regret,” he said coldly.

  Without a pang of regret.

  She bit her lip, trying not to cry. If he knew the truth—how desperately unhappy she was right now, how afraid…

  “You see,” he continued in that same cold voice, “my children suffered in the past because of an unwise choice I made when I was young. I really hate to see it happening all over again.”

  He looked so miserable that her heart was torn with sympathy. She longed to nestle close to him, take him in her arms and kiss him, tell him how much she loved him.

  If only life could be that simple.

  “I’m sorry, Jon,” she said. “But this is best for all of us, believe me.”

  He was silent a moment, his jaw clenched tightly. “Will you tell them?” He watched the children run and tumble through mounds of autumn leaves. “Or do you want me to do it?”

  “I’ll tell them. We’ll have a final session next week, and I’ll talk to them.”

  “Okay. That would be nice of you.” He got up and turned to face her with an air of calm formality, though his face was still tense with pain. “Thanks for letting me know. I guess I’ll see you in class on Monday, Dr. Pritchard.”

  “Jon…”

  Camilla knew how fragile she was now. A word from him would break her resolve and send her flying into his arms, clutching him frantically. But he turned without speaking and started to walk away, his thick hair lifting and stirring in the cold north wind that blew across the campus.

  “Goodbye, Jon,” she whispered.

  THAT EVENING Camilla arrived early at the hostel and started asking questions about Zeke and Speedball. But all she got in reply were blank looks and denials.

  There was also no sign of Marty or little Tracy— the child who’d arrived earlier in the week. Finally Camilla left the young people in the shabby common room and settled in her office.

  In the midst of her own problems, she’d also spent quite a lot of time worrying about Tracy. The girl was so young. Camilla wondered if she should have deviated from policy and reported Tracy to childwelfare authorities.

  The hostel staff always tried to stay nonpartisan. They provided shelter without questions, and apart from a few- basic rules, let the kids come and go as they pleased. The policy seemed rather heartless, but it was the only way they could maintain trust and credibility on the streets. If runaways knew they were at risk of being reported to the authorities, they’d stay away from the shelter and try to survive some other way, possibly putting themselves in danger.

  Still, in a case like Tracy’s, it was hard to think about a twelve-year-old child wandering around by herself.

  Before long, Camilla realized she wasn’t going to be able to concentrate on paperwork tonight. Troubling images kept haunting her…the faces of Jon Campbell and his children, the memories of that longago motel room and of the sunny weekend she’d just spent at his ranch, the feeling of his embrace and his mouth moving on hers…

  She pushed the papers aside, got up restlessly and went back to the other room where most of the kids were sleeping by now, curled on old mattresses under mounds of blankets.

  Camilla moved quietly among them, bending to pull covers over thin shoulders, straightening a pillow here and there, carrying some extra blankets from the storeroom.

  “Hey, Queen,” a voice said softly as she was about to leave.

  She paused, trying to see who was speaking.

  “Yes?”

  It was Zippy, lying still in the darkness as he watched her from the eye that wasn’t bruised and swollen.

  “Hello, Zippy.” She moved tow
ard him. “Is something the matter?”

  He rolled his head on the pillow. “I can’t sleep, that’s all.”

  “And I can’t work, so I’ll stay here and talk to you for a while.” She settled on the floor next to him, hugging her knees. “Are you still hungry?”

  “Not anymore. Thanks for all that fruit.”

  “That’s okay, Zippy.”

  “I got a real name, you know,” he murmured shyly.

  “What’s your name?”

  “It’s Andrew. They used to call me Andy.”

  “Did you run away, Andy?”

  “Yeah. I was living with my grandparents. My grandpa kept beating on me when he was drunk, so I took off.”

  She reached out and touched the boy’s unkempt hair. “Is it hard for you?”

  “It’s pretty hard, living on the street. But I sure can’t go back.”

  There was a brief silence while she sat near him. Rain began to fall outside, silvery and dense in the glow of the streetlamps, drumming against the windows and splattering onto the dirty sidewalk.

  “I was real good in school before I ran away,” the boy whispered. “I liked math and science.”

  “We can help you get back to school, Andy. Would you like that?”

  “Maybe,” he said cautiously. “If I could do it without going home.”

  “Why don’t you stop by the office tomorrow and talk to me about it?”

  “Are you coming in tomorrow?”

  Camilla nodded. “I’ll be in the office all afternoon.”

  “Okay. Hey, Queen…”

  “Yes?”

  “Do you have a family and all that? Do you have any kids?”

  “No.” Camilla stared into the darkness, listening to the soft breathing of sleeping children all around her and the distant rustle of the rain. “No, I’m just like you, Andy. I’m all alone.”

  SATURDAY AFTERNOON, Camilla parked downtown near the hostel and sprinted along wet streets, lowering her head into the wind, a woollen scarf drawn up around her collar. Inside the office she shook moisture from her coat, hung it on a shabby metal rack in the corner and wiped her briefcase, then settled at the desk to work throughout the afternoon.

  Just after darkness began to fall, she was eating a sandwich at her desk when Marty came into the office. “Hey, Queen.”

  “Hi, Marty.” Camilla put the sandwich down. “I’m so glad to see you.”

  “Nasty weather, isn’t it? The kids will be piling in here tonight. You’d better make sure you’ve got lots of blankets.”

  Camilla looked at the girl thoughtfully. Marty’s manner seemed deliberately casual but there was something different about her today, a tension and excitement that she couldn’t hide.

  “I have somebody who wants to say hello,” Marty whispered, then went to the door and gestured.

  A young man came in, looking shy and awkward. Camilla got up with a cry of delight and hurried around the desk to hug him.

  “Chase!” she said. “How are you?”

  He smiled ruefully and sprawled in one of the chairs. Marty sat next to him, reaching over to touch his arm protectively.

  “Well, I’m a whole lot better than I was last week,” he said. “Marty and I want to thank you for everything you did.”

  Camilla waved her hand in dismissal, examining him closely. Chase had a thin, sensitive face, a shock of ragged brown hair and an air of self-deprecating humor. His hands were beautiful, thin and finely shaped. They were also a lot steadier than they used to be, she realized.

  “I’m staying sober, Queen,” he assured her in response to her scrutiny. “I’m going to make it. We’re going to make it,” he corrected himself, glancing at Marty.

  “I’m very glad to hear it,” Camilla said quietly, returning to her own chair. “Have you started looking for a job?”

  “The pizza restaurant hired me to wash dishes four hours a day,” he said. “And I have a little gig at a club downtown, playing guitar in the evening. It’s not much, but it’s a lot better than being on the street.”

  “It’s terrific,” Camilla said warmly. “I’m so happy for you, Chase.”

  “I had my interview for the job at the grocery store,” Marty said, her face shining. “I can start at the end of the month. Chase and I are renting a little basement suite a couple of blocks over. We moved in two days ago. And you know what, Queen? We even have our own bathroom,” she added with touching pride.

  Chase smiled at the girl tenderly and put his arm around her.

  Camilla reminded herself that for each success story like this, there were a hundred disappointments. But on the rare occasions when a couple of them managed to beat the odds, it was worth every sacrifice she ever had to make.

  “Marty,” she said, “have you seen that little girl who came here the other night? I’ve been worried about her.”

  “Tracy? She’s fine,” Marty said cheerfully.

  Camilla looked at the girl in confusion. “Where is she?”

  “At her aunt’s place in Banff.”

  “How did you find out about her aunt?” Camilla asked.

  “We took Tracy home with us, bought her some clothes and got her talking yesterday,” Marty said. “She told us about this nice Auntie Jean she hasn’t seen for years. I called up there and the lady dropped everything and came right down to pick Tracy up.”

  “And you think they’re going to be all right?”

  “The aunt’s a teacher, all on her own, says she’d love to have Tracy living with her. We’re going up on the bus next weekend to visit,” Chase said. “But we think it looks good.”

  “That’s so nice of you,” Camilla said warmly. “Both of you.”

  Chase smiled. “It’s no trouble. She’s a sweet little kid. And Marty told me…”

  “I told Chase how you helped us,” Marty said when he paused. “And how you said somebody helped you a long time ago. Chase and I decided we should pass it along. If everybody did that, there’d be no problems in the world, right?”

  Camilla nodded through the tears that blurred her eyes. “You’re exactly right,” she murmured.

  The two young people got up to leave. When they were almost at the door, Marty stopped and turned. “I almost forgot, Queen. You remember when we were talking about Zeke and Speedball?”

  “Yes?” Camilla was suddenly tense.

  “Well, Chase talked to Zeke yesterday.”

  “What did he say?” Camilla looked at the young musician.

  “He was all hyped up,” Chase said with a troubled frown. “He’s got something planned, Queen.”

  “Is there any chance it’s all just talk?”

  “Not this time. I think he’s going through with it. Howie got them a couple of guns and they’re taking down a liquor store. Zeke says the bad weather’s a big advantage for them, because they’ll be able to get away easier. But he’s crazy. Somebody’s going to get hurt.”

  “The bad weather?” Camilla whispered in horror. “You mean, they’re doing it right away?”

  “Tonight,” Chase said. “Zeke told me their hit was going down tonight, and by tomorrow he was going to be rich.”

  “Oh, God.” She began gathering her papers, jamming them hastily into her briefcase.

  “Queen?” Marty asked. “What’s the matter?”

  But Camilla was already shrugging into her coat. She ran out of the hostel and into the icy darkness where the rain was turning to wet snow.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  SLEET POUNDED on the sides of the old stone barn and hissed around the open door, piling in slushy mounds at the end of the driveway. The sky was black, and the farmyard lay silent and deserted on this Saturday evening.

  Steven sat in the darkened barn behind the wheel of his car, staring at the rough-hewn walls that enclosed him. He felt like a rat in a trap, even though the door stood open behind him and he was free to drive out of here whenever he wanted.

  Too bad the sliding door wouldn’t malfunction, he thou
ght. The control button was on the outside of the building, so he’d be genuinely trapped until somebody came and found him. And by that time, it would be too late for what he was planning tonight.

  Horrified at his own cowardice, he got out restlessly and prowled around his car, checking the tires, opening the hood to have another look at the engine. For at least the tenth time, he ventured toward the barn door, huddling in the chill, hands jammed deep into his pockets as he gazed at the storm.

  With an anxious twinge of hope, he squinted up at the light in the sodden yard, trying to assess the strength of the wind and the amount of sleet that was falling. He wasn’t scheduled to leave for half an hour yet. Maybe by then the weather would be so bad that he wouldn’t be able to get into the city.

  But that wasn’t likely, and he knew it. Beyond their graveled farm approach, the roads into town were all hard-surfaced. And the storm, though windy and blustery, was hardly something you could call a blizzard. Steven had lived through enough real blizzards on their ranch in Saskatchewan to recognize that this was merely an autumn squall.

  He stood in the entry to the barn and narrowed his eyes, watching the lights of the house as they glimmered through veils of sleet. Nobody was home but Margaret, and she was busy.

  Eddie had left the day before, heading back to the oil rigs, and the housekeeper was drowning her sorrow in a great flurry of baking. At last count there’d been eleven pies lined up on the kitchen counter, along with masses of cookies and buns.

  The rest of the family were in the city. Vanessa and Enrique were studying at the downtown library, while Jon had taken the twins to a musical at a local theater. They’d all planned to meet for dinner at a burger place.

  Again Steven suffered that stab of wistfulness, the longing to be with his family again. He pictured them laughing together in the bright coziness of the restaurant, and felt lonely and excluded.

  Even Vanessa, who’d always been so annoyingly superior, was becoming a much nicer person these days. His father, though, seemed a lot quieter since their move to the city.