by Jay Forman
****
Joshua and Sara watched Jeopardy as I made our pathetic dinner. I’d had Sara help me set up my computer on her table and it was turned so that I could see the screen from the kitchen. I’d also cranked the speaker volume up to high on it – I didn’t want to miss the ding of an incoming email.
My computer stayed silent all through dinner. And through me doing the dishes. Sara promised to come get me if it made a noise while I had a quick shower. I borrowed a pair of her deerskin moccasins instead of forcing my feet back into shoes. They had turned into pasty white brain corals and needed some time to dry out.
We decided to move the table over closer to the couch so I could spend the night lying down, but within easy reach of my computer.
I grabbed the table with both hands to lift it up, but my shoulder immediately screamed at me and my right hand let go of the table.
“Are you sure you don’t want to get that looked at?”
I shook off the pain and grabbed the table again. “I don’t need a doctor.” Jack did. George did. I just had a minor boo-boo.
“I wasn’t suggesting a doctor – the visiting doctor only comes up here once a month – but we have two nurses here all the time.”
“What if someone has their appendix burst or something just as time critical?”
Sara shrugged her shoulders after putting down her end of the table. “They have to be flown out.”
So much for Canada’s claim of supplying top-notch free access to medical care to every citizen.
I turned the television off when Sara and Joshua went to bed. I didn’t want to see any more news flashes about diamond magnate Jack Hughes’ helicopter crash. Instead, I lay down, put my computer on my stomach and popped my earbuds into my ears. I clicked to start playing all of the albums by Jack’s favourite band that he’d insisted I listen to. He found it frustrating that singer-songwriter Mike Rosenberg had yet to be recognized as the modern day Harry Chapin. Hopefully, Passenger’s music would make me feel closer to Jack. My eyelids finally won out over my resolve to keep them up when Nothing’s Changed started to play.
Everything had changed. I was engaged. Committed. By my own choice. Engaged to billionaire diamond magnate Jack Hughes. Would the media want to plaster my face on all of their screens, both wall mounted and mobile? That’s the last place I wanted my face to be. And how long would it take them to figure out who I was? It would be an irresistible story for a curious reporter. A story that I never wanted told. A story that my mother and brother would help anyone broadcast everywhere. Would I be expected to get dressed up and made up and hang off Jack’s arm at social functions like sparkly arm candy? That was never – ever – going to happen. Lisa hadn’t been good at much, but she’d been great at that. And at spending Jack’s money. That was Jack’s world. My world was anonymous. And I liked our world, just the two of us at home in Port Hamlin; canoeing, kayaking, hiking, listening to music, reading together in front of the massive fireplace in the library at his cottage McMansion, making love in his fancy shower and on the old squeaky springs in the couch in my living room and on the Juliet balcony outside of my bedroom. Everything was going to change.
The ping of an incoming email shot my eyelids back up. Then they sagged a bit. It was from my supposed mother
‘Honey – I jst saw u on the news! Have you gained wait? Those jeans made ur thighes look like watermalons. Are you fucking Jack now? Hed be a good catch. We all like him alot.’
No, Honey, you and Steve like his money a lot – not alot.
‘Tried calling you + left a msg.’
I’d be deleting that message, unheard.
‘Call me asap.’
No.
‘Is Jack ok?’
He’s going to be okay. He had to be. But she wasn’t really asking about that. She was asking about his wallet.
‘Can you belief what ur dads lawyers have done? Hope u dont get involved in that again.’
In what? I didn’t really want to know the answer to that question. I had enough to deal with.
‘Stevie and Paul send their luv.
Luv, Zuzie :)’
Your name is Susan! Not Suzie or your new bastardization of it. You’re 61 years old! Stop trying to be cutesy. It never worked for you before and it sure as hell isn’t working now. And Stevie? He’s a grown-ass 43-year-old man, not a Stevie! And who the hell was Paul? Was he going to be Daddy 4.0?
I didn’t want to reply to her email, but knew I had to. I had to keep her feeling like she was in the loop, like she knew more than what the news was saying and I had to make it sound like the real story was boring. I didn’t want to risk her calling a reporter with some exaggerated scoop. She’d love being the star of the story too much. I started off by telling her that Jack and I were still just friends. It would quell her excitement. Then I told her that Jack was fine, he’d barely been scraped in the accident, and that I was the person who had an injury. That’s why Jack was carrying me, because I’d sprained my ankle. It wouldn’t explain how I’d run to him, but by the time she got down to that part of my email she’d hopefully be too bored to figure it out. If she even read that far. My guess was that she’d stop right after reading that Jack and I were still just friends.
My finger hovered over the touchpad on my computer. Then it slid the cursor down over the icon to open my web browser. I was just about to tap, to open the Pandora’s Box that contained all the information and news that anyone could ever ask for about Stuart Saddler … Did I really want to know?
I was saved from having to answer that question by the ring; the ringing of someone calling me on FaceTime.
Most of Auntie Em’s face showed up on my screen.
“Oh, look! There you are!” She pulled her phone closer to her face to see me better and gave me an extremely close-up view of her eyes and forehead.
I tilted my computer screen to give her a full view of my entire face. “When did you learn how to use FaceTime?”
“Jack showed me just now. I must say, I think I’m going to like this!” She turned away from her phone. “Thank you, dear. This is wonderful.”
“You’re with Jack?”
“Yes, I am. He’s just fine and he wants to speak to you.”
Auntie Em spun her phone around and I recognized enough of the fast-moving, blurry images to know that they were in Jack’s palatial condo on the 50th floor of the Four Seasons.
Jack’s full face appeared in the centre of the screen. “Hi, fiancée.”
“Hi.” My smile matched the width of his. “Are you really okay?” The gauze bandage on his head was gone.
“I really am.”
“How many stitches did the cut on your leg need?”
“A few.”
“I’ll get Auntie Em to tell me so you might as well spit it out.”
“Thirty-one.”
“Jesus!”
“It’s not that bad. You needed more after the fire—”
“Yeah, but those were tiny little plastic surgeon’s stitches.”
“I’m fine. Really.”
“How’s George?”
“Still in surgery, but it’s not as bad as we first thought. He regained consciousness on the flight down and was able to move his feet.”
Thank God! “I’m coming there tomorrow. I’ve already booked myself on the first flight out of Webequie.”
“Cancel it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m coming back up there if everything goes well with George’s surgery. I want to know who the hell it was who tried to shoot us out of the sky.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
“Are you absolutely sure?”
“Positive. George saw it, too. A bullet came through my side window. I don’t know how close it came to hitting me, but it made me flinch and I pulled back on the cyclic—”
“What’s that?”
“The control stick between my legs, it moves the helicopter forwards or backwards. I pulled back, just a bit, but it
was enough to send the tail rotor into the trees. After that it’s just a blur. The next thing I remember is being in the river, seeing the wreck and then scrambling to find George. If we’d been any further off the ground we both would have been killed. As it is, we’re damn lucky to be alive.”
No, I was the lucky one to have him still alive. “Adaya said the Transportation Safety people would be coming up here. Have you told them about this yet?”
“Not yet, but I’m expecting two investigators any minute now. I had Adaya call them to let them know I’d been released from the hospital and am more than willing to talk to them tonight. Listen, Lee, I’ve been thinking about something … there’s going to be a lot of press showing up there. Does Joshua have any empty rooms over at the lodge?”
“How do you know about the lodge?”
“It’s my business to know about Webequie. So? Does he?”
“I don’t know. When I was at the Northern earlier the girl at the counter was getting a lot of calls from reporters looking for a place to stay and she told one of them that the lodge was full.”
“I don’t think Joshua would give a room to a reporter, not with the oil executives he has there right now.”
Jack knew a little bit too much about Webequie, specifically Joshua’s lodge. My spidey sense started tingling and it had never steered me wrong – there was something Jack wasn’t telling me. “Why are you so interested in the room availability at the lodge?”
“Because I think you’d be happier over there, away from the press.”
He was right. “I’ll ask him in the morning. What about you? Where will you—
A phone rang somewhere in Jack’s condo and he turned to shout out: “Emma? Will you get that please?” Then he turned back to me. “That’ll be the Transportation Safety guys. I’d better go.”
“Call me when you hear about George?”
“Will do.”
“Which button do I push to let them in, Jack?” I heard Auntie Em say.
“Talk to you later, fiancée.”
I was engaged to Canada’s richest man. Was I ready for this? I liked being Lee Smith. Nobody paid any attention to her. As Lee Saddler I’d learned what it was like to be trapped under a media microscope. Would being Mrs Jack Hughes be any better? Or worse? Was I going to change my name again? Jack and I had a lot of talking to do.
But first I had to talk to Joshua. I walked down the hallway to Sara’s closed bedroom door and raised my hand to knock … but lowered it when I heard their heavy sighs and the rhythmic creaking of Sara’s bed frame. Talking to Joshua could wait until the morning.
I fell asleep with my computer still open and resting on my stomach. I didn’t want to miss Jack’s call, but it wasn’t Jack who called on FaceTime. It was Auntie Em again. Or, rather, it was her left ear that called. She’d sent Jack to bed right after the investigators from the Transportation Safety Board left. And she’d called the doctor in charge of George’s care. No one else but Auntie Em would have been able to get him on the phone. He had a cottage in Muskoka and had become friends with Auntie Em when she was the nurse who took care of his son after a boating accident. So Auntie Em looked through her little black phone book, found the doctor’s home phone number, called it, spoke to his wife and ended the call with the doctor’s private cell phone number in her determined little dialling hand. George’s right leg was badly broken. They’d patched it up as best as they could, but he’d be looking at months of physiotherapy. All of his other injuries, and there were many, were expected to recover fully with time. He wouldn’t be flying for Jack anytime soon, but he was alive and that’s all that really mattered.
I put my computer back up on the table beside the couch and left it open just in case Jack called during the night.
It was light outside when he did call and I almost didn’t hear the ring of his call because of an incoming helicopter flying low over Sara’s house.
The skin around his right eye was turning dark purple and I didn’t recognize the silver-framed glasses he was wearing.
“That’s going to be quite the black eye!”
“The other guy looks worse,” he tried to joke. “I’m heading over to the hospital to see George. Emma says she filled you in last night. Sorry I didn’t call, I was bagged and—”
“It’s okay.”
“Did you talk to Joshua about moving over to the lodge?”
“He was already in bed, but I’ll ask him about it when he gets up.” I could hear the water running in Sara’s shower, so someone was up. “Are you still coming up today?”
“Definitely! Adaya’s got some logistics to work out first, though. She arranged for someone to bring the Global back to Toronto, but with the Sikorsky out of commission, permanently, she needs to find me a ride from Thunder Bay to Webequie.”
“You could always book a seat on the airline I used. It got me here just fine.”
“Maybe.”
I knew he wouldn’t do it.
“I need you to do something for me before you go over to the lodge. I talked to Mr Suganaqueb when I was there, to see about those rocks that his grandson found, but he said that his grandson had hidden them again and was refusing to let anyone see them. Mr Suganqueb said the kid might be willing to let you see them again, though. Think you’d be able to talk him into letting you borrow them? You could give them back right after I’ve seen them.”
“I doubt River would let me do that, but I’ll talk to him, see if he’ll let me show them to you when you get here.”
“But you’ll be over at the lodge—”
“Maybe. We don’t know if Joshua has any rooms available.”
A propeller plane buzzed over Sara’s house and even Jack heard it.
“Stay inside as much as you can today. The place will be crawling with reporters.”
“I won’t be able to hide from them forever, Jack. Especially if I’m your wife.”
“If? Don’t you mean when?”
“Yeah, that’s what I meant.” Sort of. Partially. Mostly.
He stared at me without saying anything for what felt like a long time. “You’re thinking yourself out of it, aren’t you?”
“No!” Yes. “It’s just, I’m scared. You know how much I like being anonymous, and that’s not something your wife can be. And—”
“Stop, Lee. Please? We’ll work it out. Together. Once I’m there.”
“When will that be?”
“This afternoon, if Adaya can pull everything together.”
“Okay.” Things did seem clearer when I was talking to Jack, looking at him. Hopefully, they’d become crystal clear when we were in the same place at the same time, because when he was out of sight my mind went out of control thinking about how my life might have to change if I married him. But I didn’t want to lose him, either. Not ever.
****
Joshua did have a room available at the lodge. In fact, he had three rooms available. His Texan oil executives had booked the whole place out for privacy and there were only three of them still staying there. He called over to the lodge and talked to one of the Texans.
“Do you want one room or two?” he asked me while still on his call.
“One.” There wouldn’t be any strawberries or melted chocolate or whipped cream, but Jack would be there. Being with him was more than enough for me. We didn’t need nibbles all the time.
Joshua hung up. “No problem. They don’t mind you using a room. I explained about you being engaged to Jack and they can understand why Jack would want to stay away from the press. Want me to take you over? I’m going now.”
“No, I’ll head over later. Is there a boat I can borrow?”
“How are your paddling skills? I’ve got a regular canoe you can use.”
“I’ve been canoeing since before I could walk.” Although, I was a little bit worried about how my shoulder was going to feel doing the j-stroke. If it got too angry I’d have to try doing it left-handed.
“Okay, it’s on th
e shore just south of Dad’s place, under a tarp. It’s birch bark, so you’ll be able to get it into the water easily.”
I picked up my boots from where they’d been drying by the electric heater near Sara’s front door. They’d dried out so much that the soles were a little bit sticky from starting to melt. Back in my room I dumped out the contents of my backpack in search of something clean to wear. I’d been planning on using the hotel’s laundromat in Thunder Bay, but caught the early flight to Webequie instead. I could get away with wearing one of my dirty T-shirts under a sweater, but the only sweater that was even close to being clean was the super thick black one that Auntie Em had made during her Icelandic phase. I’d been saving it for when I was up in the colder weather in the Rockies. It took forever to dry so I’d have to be extra careful about keeping it clean. My one remaining clean pair of socks rolled out of the sweater as I unfolded it. They were thick wool hiking socks that I’d also been saving for my Rockies days. The jeans I’d run into the river with had dried overnight, but they were as stiff as cardboard as I pulled them on. I shoved everything that I wasn’t wearing back into my backpack and lifted it up, then put it down again. Jack’s ring was in there. He’d expect his fiancée to be wearing it. I unzipped the inner side pocket, pulled out the velvet box, took out the ring and pushed it down onto the fourth finger on my left hand. It still looked like a padlock. The sunlight coming in through the window reflected off of the boulder of a diamond and lit it up like a spotlight. There was no way, no way at all, that I’d be able to travel unnoticed with it on my hand. It was a beacon that would draw everyone’s attention to me. Sorry Jack. I put the ring back in the box.
My parka had dried out, too, but it wasn’t white anymore. It was smudged with all sorts of dirt. It was so warm outside that even my sweater was too much, but I still put my parka on and flipped the hood up. I didn’t want any reporters to see my hair. They’d be looking for a blonde woman.
Marlee drove past me as I walked down to River’s house and I remembered the papers in my pocket, but I didn’t wave her down. I wanted to talk to Jack about them first.
There was a reporter and cameraman recording outside the band hall. Another reporter was taking photographs of the tepee in front of the house near River’s. He didn’t pay any attention to the short person wearing the ridiculously big and formerly white parka who walked up the front steps of River’s house and knocked on the door.
