Maternal Harbor (9 page)

The Jeep and U-haul trailer crested a steep hill and Flathead Lake glistened in the sunset.  Copper ripples highlighted the slate water near the shoreline while pinkish clouds reflected on the still, glassy water of the deep.  Overlapping mountain ranges and conifer forests flanked both sides of the lake, but the water held Bryan Winslow’s focus.  It overpowered everything by its size.

“
Damn beautiful,” he said.

TJ opened his eyes and gazed around, shrugged, and licked his lips.  “Where are we?”

“Polson.”  They entered the town and Bryan eased up on the accelerator, slowing down seemed like driving a warm-up lap after a stock car race.  The day spent traveling through the Wyoming flatland and the lower part of Montana had worn him out.  He yawned and rubbed his right eye, then the left.

“
You wanna stop for the night?”  TJ stretched and then resettled with his shoulder against the window.

Stopping sounded good, but the soft bed at his grandmother’s sounded better.  “Kalispell is only an hour away.”

A few miles later, they entered the forested foothills which sheltered the west side of the lake.  After the wide-open plains, the mountainous timberlands protected Bryan.  His shoulder muscles relaxed and his inner turmoil quieted as the highway snaked through aspen, larch, and pine covered humpbacks until a sweeping curve dropped toward the lake.  He slowed again for a small Indian reservation town, and then highballed north.

TJ straightened from his slouch.  “Speed limit said sixty-five.”

“Only doing seventy-five.”  They crested another hill and zipped down.  The needle pushed ninety, but the U-haul handled well and Bryan wasn’t concerned.  His eyes burned, neck ached, and back hurt; he wanted the last miles behind him.

“
I’ll put it this way,” TJ said.  “Stop and let me out.”

“
Good enough.”  Bryan slowed, looking for a place to stop.  A flash in his rearview mirror caught his attention.  Overheads strobing, a highway patrol cruiser hugged his tail.  Bryan swore.

So did TJ.  “I’ve been telling you to slow down.  You should’ve listened.”

Bryan glowered at him, eased onto a wide spot and parked near a guardrail.  Too tired for this, he lowered his window.

The solid trooper approached.  Why did they always look so formidable?  “Radar gun clocked you at eighty-five.  Have any reason to drive at an unsafe speed?”  His expression was stern, yet friendly.

Bryan noted the name tag on the uniform.  “Officer Garvey, downhill got me, but I was slowing.”

“
I’ll need to see your driver’s license and registration.”  After Bryan handed them through the window, Garvey studied them for a moment, then asked bluntly, “Mr. Winslow, why do you have the rifle in the backseat?”

Caught by surprise, Bryan’s muscles tightened.  He’d forgotten about it.  “I bought it yesterday in Salina, Kansas.”

“Better step out.  I’ll need to run it.”  Garvey leaned down and looked at TJ.  “You stay put.”

Not liking it, but figuring he’d better do exactly what the officer said, Bryan got out.

Garvey stepped back a pace.  “Now open the backdoor and go stand by the front fender.”

Bryan moved to the front of the Jeep, silently calling himself a knucklehead.  I should’ve known better, he thought.  What if the rifle is stolen?  Dumb.

Garvey removed the Mauser and checked to see if it was loaded.

“
It’s empty,” Bryan said with a bad taste in his mouth.  “I wouldn’t travel with a loaded rifle.”

The officer rubbed the stock.  “It’s in good shape for an older model.  Find it in a pawn shop?”

“Saw it advertised on a bulletin board at a truck stop.  The lady said it was hers to sell.”   Suddenly the passenger door flew open.  TJ vaulted the guardrail, rolled down the embankment, and sprinted into the forest.

“
Damn,” Garvey yelled.  “We have a rabbit.  Why’d he run?”

“
Don’t know!  He’s just a hitcher I picked up.”

“
I’d better put you in cuffs, till I figure out what is going on.”

No sense in arguing.  Bryan held out his wrists.  The metal snapped in a sickening way. 

The officer hurried back to his patrol car and spoke into a hand-held mic.

Minutes ticked by.  Bryan shifted his weight and leaned against the fender thoroughly irritated for giving TJ a ride.  Damn kid.  He checked his watch in the fading light and realized his grandmother would probably be in bed by the time he arrived and probably be frightened by his knocking so late.  Dumb damn kid anyhow.  Stupid damn rifle.  Bryan shifted his weight, again.  He’d call as soon as the officer turned him loose.  Too bad he left his cell phone in the front seat or he’d do it now.

The shadows on the mountains deepened to ebony before Garvey finally closed his car door and ambled back.  “Dispatch ran the serial numbers on the rifle and no one reported it stolen.”

“
That’s a relief.”

“
Also, we did a fifty-state sweep and found no outstanding warrants on you, so you are good to go after I collect a forty-dollar appearance bond.”  Garvey handed Bryan the rifle and a traffic citation.

Bryan studied the ticket before counting bills from his wallet.

“Sure you can’t tell me anything about the runner?”  Garvey put the money away. 

“
Only that he called himself TJ.”  Bryan stopped before he blabbed about buying him breakfast in Salina and the fight with Elsa.  It made no sense to give the officer more to question.  “He did ask about the Canadian Border.”

“
We’ll catch up to him and learn his story.”  Garvey flipped open a notebook.  “Tell me everything you can about this TJ.”

“
He’s a strange kid.  I’m guessing his age at nineteen or twenty.  Medium height, brown hair, and eyes.”

Garvey scribbled quick notes.  “Is that all?”

Bryan ran through what little he knew.  “That’s it except his pack is still in the Jeep.”

He hauled out the nylon bag, and Garvey emptied the contents onto the hood of his cruiser.  Two pair of socks, change of underwear, jeans, and a windbreaker were stuffed in the center compartment.  In the outside flaps were matches, flashlight, maps, a book on fishing, and a pocket Bible with no name written inside except
Provided by the Gideons
.

Bryan saw nothing to explain why TJ ran.  Same as his appearance never gave any hint of wrongdoing.  None of it made sense, and Bryan hoped he’d seen the last of him.

Garvey stuffed the articles back into the pack and stowed it in the trunk of his cruiser.

Before getting into his Jeep, Bryan scanned the pitch-black tree line one more time.  Nothing and that was fine with him.  He tried his cell phone with the door open.  No coverage.  Damn.

Well lit by a street lamp, Fiona Winslow’s house appeared the same: white clapboard siding trimmed with green dormers along both sides of the steeply-pitched roof, wooden columns on the front porch and screened-in back porch.  Bryan’s basketball hoop, without netting, still hung on the weathered garage.  And the same rope swing dangled from a limb of the massive backyard maple.  A light showed in the double-hung kitchen window.

Glad his grandmother was still awake, Bryan paused for a moment to fill his lungs.  The air smelled so clean and so cool, nothing like the muggy Oklahoma humidity.  He might just make the valley his home.  Or was it Seattle?

As he reached to knock, the back door swung open and he heard a gasp.  Outlined in the light from the kitchen, tall, thin Fiona stood still, not shushing Mitzi’s barking like she usually did.  The poodle’s yapping turned to growls.

Bryan waited for her to recognize him.  “You and Mitzi going to let me in or call 911?” he finally asked.

“
Call 911.  I want an ambulance with lots of EMTs to restart my heart.”

Bryan laughed and drew her into his arms.  “You’re trembling.  I’m sorry for scaring you.  I tried to phone but was in a dead zone.”  He held her for a moment, noting how frail she was, how weak her pats were on his back.

The dog jumped and scratched at his pant leg.

“
Get down, Mitzi,” Fiona said when Bryan released her.  She led the way into her kitchen, her hand running on the counter for balance.

Bryan threw his bag in the corner.  “Still have the old toaster, I see.”

“Suits me.”  She placed a cup of water in the microwave.  “The one you sent is nice, too.”

Lopsided stacks of old greeting cards were scattered across the chrome and Formica table.  He plopped into his assigned chair: Grandpa at the head, Grandma at the opposite end, and Bryan always to the right.  It never changed even after his grandfather passed on.  He picked up a card from the tallest stack.  “Reminiscing or cleaning house?”

“I was sorting them.”  She removed the pile directly in front of him.  “And it’s a sorry, sad thing deciding whose greeting of love to throw away.”

Opening the card, he saw it was from him, years ago.  He read the message, and then stared at Fiona.  She seemed older than he expected.  Wrinkles crowded her face and loose pale skin sagged under her chin.  But she still stood with a straight back and proud tilt to her head; that, plus the finely arched brows and slender nose bore witness to the beauty of her youth.

She was the friend of his childhood vacations, and this picture of her after nine years came as a shock.  His spunky grandmother was supposed to stay the same.  He felt closer to her than anyone for the very good reason that Fiona loved him without judgment.  “Are you going to tell me why you were out of breath when you answered the door?”

“
Hurrying too fast to see who the blazes was pounding on the door.”

“
You’ve never been afraid of the dark.”  The microwave pinged
done
.  The faucet dripped.

“
Old age does that.  Strength fades and is replaced by fear.”

“
Fear of what?”

The microwave pinged again, and she popped open the door.  “Grandsons sneaking up.  You hungry?”

“I’m way too tired to eat.”

“
Nonsense.”  She steeped a bag of Earl Gray, placed the cup in front of him and opened the refrigerator.

“
Really, don’t bother.”  Bryan dodged a few of Mitzi’s licks and tried not to appear so beat under the surveillance of his grandmother.

She clucked her tongue.  “I see fatigue written all over you, but I also see sadness.”

“I’m divorced.”

“
I guessed that when I hadn’t heard from you for so long.”

“
I should’ve called, but I haven’t even told Mom yet.  She was so sure my marriage was a mistake.”

“
Hard to admit defeat.  Are you banged up from it?”

Bryan pondered her question.  “I thought so,” he finally said.  “But I’m not.  At first I blamed the marriage, but the more I thought about it driving across the plains, I knew I made my mistake before leaving Seattle.”

“Teagan?”

“
Where’s the food?”  He knew he’d cut off her question, and that was as it should be.  She didn’t want the details anyway, only to know he’d be okay.  And he was.  That realization came as a relief.  He just needed to find out who lived inside his shell.  The mountains would help him decide.

“
The cabin still usable?” he asked as the toaster popped.

Fiona spread butter across the toast.  “Drove up last August.  It needs repairs only a man can make.  I haven’t done anything to it since you brought Teagan for a visit – what, nine years ago?”

“I’d like to winter there.  Face the elements, before I go home and look for work.”  His grandmother made no comment, and he could think of nothing more to say.  Bryan didn’t like this tongue-tied feeling.  He’d never been at a loss for words with his grandmother.  “I’ll put a new washer in the sink tomorrow before I drive up to the cabin.  You want to come?”

Fiona shook her head.  The white wisps of her hair caught the light.  The strands seemed thinner.  Her eyes met his and held.  “Does the trip from Oklahoma have any stories?” she asked.

“I battled a lady at a truck stop and hauled a wanted man across Wyoming.”

Fiona clapped her hands.  “Sounds like a real adventure.  Tell about the bad guy cuz I already know enough about bad women.”

“Crazy thing.  An absolute puzzle.”  He slipped easily into recounting what happened with TJ.  “I thought at first the boy was an okay dude, a kid searching for himself.  Yet, as I think about it, I saw something more.  I kinda liked him right away as you do with some people.  But the more miles we covered the more irritating he became.  And that’s the crux.  Everything was an opposite: like and dislike, big and little, broke and money, innocent and guilty.”  Bryan reached out and picked up a card, then tossed it back without looking.  “The poor kid ran off without anything.  Left his pack in my Jeep and the cops took it.  I hope they pick him up for his own sake.”