At the age of seven, Mac joined the soldiers on one of their training exercises. After that, she was a regular member of the base, at least unofficially. She could drop in anywhere she wanted after school and participate in whatever any group of soldiers was doing. Soldier became the base's unofficial mascot. The general might pick her up from the motor pool where she was learning how to tear down a fuel pump and they'd walk home together. Her homework would consist of another chapter of one of the general's military history books. Her toys were likely to be deactivated pistols or any other used piece of materiel that her dad brought home from work for her to play with.
Emily despaired at times of her daughter ever becoming a woman. She and the general argued about this and usually he imposed his decision on his wife. Mac's interest never stayed long in the areas of arts and crafts, sewing, dancing, or culinary explorations. Every Christmas, the general would give her an entire army of figurines to add to her other armies and he joined with her in playing with them. For the next seven days, all of her armies would do battle upstairs, downstairs, in the kitchen, on the staircase – wherever there was room to maneuver, hide, make sorties, and do whatever else figurine armies did. Coalitions were formed; treaties were broken; traitors would be exposed; and equipment would break down at the worst possible moment.
The war would end on New Year's Eve, and with a victor declared, all of the armies were put away for another year. But every single night before bedtime throughout the year, with no exceptions, the family would gather around the piano and they'd sing their favorite songs – Mac with her child's voice, Emily with her soprano, and the general in his deep bass voice. They'd go up to bed together at 9:00. Emily would give her daughter a hug, tuck her into bed, push her blond hair away from her eyes (Emily had put her foot down on the suggestion that Mac should have a military buzz cut), and give her daughter a kiss. Soldier would salute the general from her bed and he'd return the favour. Never once did Will see any form of physical contact between the general and his daughter. Physical contact between officers and enlisted personnel was not tolerated in the army. Hugs between men – unthinkable. Hugs between men and women – a recipe for disaster. Instead, in the general's command, praise was conveyed with a nod. Unhappiness was conveyed with the imposition of cleaning duties.
This happy existence began to deteriorate as Mac approached her teenage years. But the deterioration was imperceptible. Drinking and the military were inextricably joined together, at least in Saskatoon. The general didn't go to any of the messes on a regular basis, but he did drop in. It was part of his job to foster morale. And once there, it was impolite to turn right around and leave. And he did enjoy a drink or two at home in the evenings. And he was invited to many social events. Alcohol was always in abundance. Over time, the general began to drink more and he began to come home in worse and worse condition.
The general's vulnerability to drink became more pronounced as an illness began to appear in the general's heretofore healthy command. Equipment began to disappear. Or it became damaged far too early in its life and had to be destroyed. The general knew this to be a rot that had to be eradicated, but the general couldn't find the source. In stress, he turned even more to drink. The more he drank, the less he saw with his alcohol-clouded vision.
Mac was 12 and at home on her own the night in 2077 that the general and his wife left home to enjoy a base social. Most of the socials that the army sponsored kept enlisted forces separate from officers. Fraternization was always frowned on. But certain combined events were tolerated and, as per custom, spouses were always invited to these events. Emily had become accustomed to taking the general's keys early in these evenings and ensuring that she was behind the wheel of the general's staff car when they left the party. She had tried to persuade the general to accept a driver for the other events, but the general had deemed that inappropriate posturing and had refused. He did agree though to walk to and from a party on the nights that he was alone.
On this night, the general clearly remembered being in the passenger seat when they left the party. He fell asleep almost immediately. Some might say that he fell into a drunken stupor, but the general was highly respected. So it was quite proper to say that he just nodded off into a little dream.
The general awoke to someone slapping his face lightly but persistently. He saw the flashing blue lights but did not recognize their significance. He did come fully awake when he saw Emily in the passenger seat with her head at a very awkward angle. He himself was behind the wheel. The staff car was mounted on a curb and its hood had a tree growing through it.
While the general was trying to recover his senses, an important private meeting was being held behind the flashing blue lights. The base's medical doctor confirmed that the general's wife had died from a broken neck, although there may have been other injuries. The military police captain confirmed that his patrol had found the general in the driver's seat, reeking of alcohol and asleep. A master sergeant, who lived in the house behind the fatal tree, was first on the scene and had called it in. He suggested that it would be in the general's best interests, as well as in the base's best interest, if the cause of the accident were recorded as a failure of the car's braking system. He could make sure that such a failure could be manufactured after the fact. He had the necessary skills seeing as how he was in the Special Forces.
Everyone agreed. The general was assured that the car's brakes had indeed failed and the general started to believe it. But the master sergeant told him privately, that no, the brakes hadn't failed. The general was behind the wheel and dead to the world at the time of the accident. His wife was sitting in the passenger seat when her neck was broken. The Master Sergeant had the pictures to prove it. He also had taken a blood-alcohol reading and those records showed that the general had enough alcohol in his system to pickle a dead cow. The general accepted that he had been driving drunk and had killed his wife. An arrangement was made to keep the truth hidden.
# # # # # # # #
Will didn't know what to do. Wolf didn't want to know anything about Mac's early life unless it was absolutely necessary. Was this a case of absolute necessity? Would knowing what happened help Wolf to convince Mac to come home? Or would it drive Mac further away from him?
If Will told him, would Wolf be able to keep that information to himself? Would Will's time travel into the past prompt Wolf to do something that would change the future? What if Wolf and Mac were truly destined to be together, but Will's disclosure might lead to an entirely different future?
There was nobody Will could turn to for advice.
Well, almost nobody.
Will found Izzy in their bedroom with one of his clean shirts to her nose. "What's up?" he asked.
"Just checking to see if this needed washing," she answered.
Izzy seemed cold and angry. Will decided that there was only one thing to do.
"I've invented a way to time travel into the past and into the future and I'm using it to help Wolf find where Mac has gone," he confessed. "
Izzy stared at him.
Will wasn't great at reading body language, but this emotion was clearly painted on her face. Cold fury.
This wasn't going to work. Start over.
Will wasn't great at reading body language, but this emotion was clearly painted on her face.
"That's great," Izzy enthused. "When do I get a chance to time travel?"
"Well, I have a little problem before we can do that. It's been bothering me and I don't know what to do."
"Oh, you poor dear. What can I do to help?"
So Will described everything he had seen to hypothetical Izzy. How Mac's mother had been driving her drunken husband home. How she had stopped the car when a soldier stepped out from the curb in the semi-darkness and asked her if she could give him some assistance. How Mac's soon-to-be-husband Sven had broken her neck. How his soon-to-be groomsman Otto had pulled the general out of the car; how the other groomsman Dieter had
transferred Emily to the passenger seat. How Sven had driven the car at high velocity into a tree. How Otto had put the general back into the car but in the driver's seat. How Sven and Otto had disappeared while Sven was calling the MPs.
"Should I tell Wolf? What if he does something to change the future?"
"You didn't think that this might come up when you invented time travel? What were you thinking?"
"That I would remain invisible and do nothing in the past whatsoever. The future wouldn't be changed if I did nothing in the past."
"But you know something now that could change the future."
"Yes. I didn't think about that. What should I do?"
"You should lie some more. That has been working just super for you to date."
Then Izzy disappeared, slamming the imaginary door of his imaginary bedroom shut behind her.
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Chapter 21
To Wizard's horror, Dreamer accepted his invitation to attend the finals of the Edmonton singing contest. Since Mathias was already bringing the sawmill's two light standards to the evening show, she'd come down with him. Within hours, Winnie had arranged for her to stay at Momaka's boarding room Saturday night and she could fly home with Mathias when he returned the two lights Sunday morning.
Dreamer herself had mixed feelings about the evening. As Winnie had accurately read the first time that Dreamer had seen him outside the sawmill, Dreamer had thought that Wizard looked nice. And he was polite. And he listened to her and didn't try to boss her around. Dreamer's father was an aggressive man. Scary even. Dreamer disliked everything about him, although she knew that she shouldn't have those kinds of feelings about her dad. But then, she was hardly alone in that regard. Many in the tribe felt that way. They thought that he had disgraced the tribe when he was taken away to a B.C. prison years ago – Double-Tom being the hereditary chief after all.
The tribe had named Dreamer's grandmother as chief and she quickly took control, banning alcohol from the village as well as banning gambling and other problems that Double-Tom had actively encouraged. Double-Tom had made a lot of money in Surrey off other people's gambling. It was said in his trial that he rigged the games, and his two buddies took care of collecting the money from the gamblers who didn't want to pay up. Their activities had come to the attention of the Surrey police after one of them had been too enthusiastic in collecting a debt. Each of the three men had blamed one of the others for the death, thinking that there'd be reasonable doubt who was responsible and they'd all get off. Double-Tom's plan didn't work. The judge gave them all four years. This was in the year that Dreamer turned 10. Double-Tom moved his gambling activities into the prison yard and continued to prosper. Surrey prisons were notoriously lax in their supervision of prisoners, unlike the prisons run by the Aboriginal Nation.
Double-Tom had taken his name from his fists. He named one fist Tom #1 and the other Tom #2 and he'd play Tom-Tom on anyone who annoyed him. He'd refer to himself always as Double-Tom thinks this, or Double-Tom wants that. His real name was Wescott but only people in the tribe knew that. Nobody dared to use it.
Dreamer's mom, Franny, had died in an accident when Dreamer was five. Afterwards, her dad ignored her. So Franny's mom, Wanda, had taken care of her. Nobody knew why Franny had married Double-Tom. It certainly wasn't a happy marriage. Franny would often slip and fall into a doorknob or some other part of the house that stuck out. She'd never accuse her husband of beating her – saying only that she had slipped. One day when Double-Tom was on one of his frequent trips to the big city, Franny took a canoe and headed south to do some fishing. The canoe was found drifting by Barriere, the next village of any size downriver. Her body was never found. Double-Tom and buddies returned to Clearwater about two weeks later. He didn't seem overly upset by his loss.
Nonny was a straight talker. Forceful. Wanted to make sure that she did right by her granddaughter. Wouldn't let her make the same mistakes as Franny. However she wasn't overly concerned about this concert. She had met Wizard and liked him. She wasn't so sure that Dreamer would be a good match with him, but it was only an invitation to a singing contest. It was hardly a date.
When Dreamer said that she'd like to wear proper clothes to the contest, Nonny agreed. The tribe had jobs again and Dreamer had been instrumental in helping them rise up out of abject poverty. Dreamer said that she was going to pay for the clothes with her own money; all she wanted from the tribe was permission to take the band's sole copter down to Kamloops and back. Nonny decided to take her down herself.
If there was one thing that Dreamer did that annoyed Nonny, other than her frequent daydreaming, it was her posture. She had been a tall, skinny, gangly kid from the get go. To reduce her height advantage over other children in the tribe, when there had been some, Dreamer would slouch. For example, Nonny noticed her slouching badly when she had given Wizard the guided tour of the sawmill. If she had stood up straight, she'd have been half a head taller; as it was, she appeared to be a tiny bit taller than him. Nonny wondered what this constant slouching was doing to her spine.
Now, with Dreamer starting to come into her woman's body, she had added another very annoying habit. She still slouched, but now she was also turning her shoulders inwards – an attempt to hide her developing body, Nonny figured. Not ever having been very tall or skinny, Nonny hadn't felt the need to do that when she was a teenager. Dreamer had always been a shy girl, so perhaps this was to be expected. Nonny rattled on to her all the time about her posture. "Stand up straight, pull your shoulders back. You ain't got much to show, but there's no reason to hide them either." Naturally that would embarrass Dreamer even further and she would wear heavy sweaters in August.
When Dreamer announced that she was going to buy some good clothes for the singing contest, Nonny swore to herself that she wasn't going to say a thing. She had noticed, and had said nothing, the last month when Dreamer was engrossed in her work. She'd see Dreamer actually standing tall with her shoulders back during the day. Perhaps the confidence of running the mill was giving her the courage to stand up straight. This was a good thing and Nonny wasn't going to ruin it with her big mouth. Nonny swore that she wasn't going to say a thing in Kamloops about Dreamer's choice of clothes, however bad they might be.
Dreamer started with a pair of black pumps and black slacks but she lost momentum when she came to her choice of tops. Long sleeves were ruled out. Shiny material was ruled in. A sampling of those entered the changing room. Nonny hadn't expected to be invited in with her. Dreamer hadn't shown any skin below her neck and above her knees to anyone since about her 7th birthday. At home, she routinely dressed and undressed in the dark.
Out of the changing room and onto the discard pile came the clothes that were tight-fitting. Nonny nodded approvingly. Dreamer came out briefly, grabbed more coloured tops, and disappeared again.
Nonny watched the progression of tops as their hangers moved from one side of the changing room, paused, and then moved to the other side of the changing room. The rejected side. Then, Dreamer emerged and stood there for Nonny to see. Straight and tall, shoulders back inside a loosely fitting, shiny bright orange top. "What do you think?"
"Perfect fit and colour," Nonny said. "Not sure about the hair." For all her determination that she wasn't going to say anything critical, Nonny couldn't help herself.
"I'm going to dye that out," Dreamer said. "I look like a freak. Can I buy a haircut and dye-job too? I want to make it short and curly."
# # # # # # # #
Yolanda was dealing with an insistent Winnie.
"Mom! Dreamer is going to wear nice clothes, and she bought a hair cut, and everything. Wiz is planning on going in his old jeans and a sweatshirt. He says that's what he wears all the time; it should be good enough to go listen to some people sing. You gotta do something. She's wearing bright orange. She's going to be stunning!"
That prompted a conversation in which Yolanda gently suggested to Wizard that he was
representing the Wilizy. He wasn't dressing up to impress some girl that he hardly knew. He had a duty to the Wilizy Cloth and Dye Company to show potential customers what good clothes can do for a person. Besides, he could wear these clothes when he went on buying trips. He'd be getting full value for his money.
# # # # # # # #
Yolanda and Wizard had flown to Kelowna, Wednesday morning August 23. Yolanda knew that there'd be no time for alterations. Fortunately, she could size her son by looking at the clothes on the hangers.
She didn't get a chance in the first store. Wizard immediately headed to the bargain bin, where hangers had lost the will to hang. In preparation for his buying decision, Wiz was organizing the loose clothes in the bin by discount rate, 50% off, 40% off... Yolanda decided that being a silent partner on this trip wasn't going to work. In terms of buying new things, Wizard had his dad's temperament. No price too low.
"The dyes in this store haven't been applied properly," she lied. "We have to find something with better workmanship." Yolanda hardly ever lied, but when it came to outfitting her son for his first date, some personal sacrifices had to be made. Wizard was the only member of the Wilizy's inner circle who didn't realize that he'd soon be on his first date. That awareness would probably come after the concert if Yolanda could keep Winnie's exuberance for snooping under control until then.
Yolanda took Wiz into one of the better stores for men. "Remember, we're buying something that has to last over many events and for different kinds of functions. We'll start with shoes. They'll have to be black." Yolanda let Wizard choose from three shoes – all of which would be presentable.
Next, it was on to the pants. "Some basic rules here. No jeans, cords, or sweat pants. A man wanting to impress other businessmen needs to have a crease in his black pants. No choice here, unfortunately. Dem's the rules." She let Wizard choose the belt, or was going to let him choose it until he pulled out a red and purple plaid number. That choice went to plaid hell wherever that might be located. Black was again the name of the game.
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