Stony River (60 page)

For a minute neither spoke—and Sevana, for one, was wishing they’d never left that time. Then Joel, who was staring down at his heavy black boots as if he’d never seen them before, suddenly shifted, drawing in his feet and sitting erect. “Sevana, there’s something else. Chantal has left Victoria—and the life she had there—and she’s back in Vancouver, alone. And—I know this is unexpected—but we’re planning to get married when I return.”

“Oh!” She said it too quickly, for it sprang from her in startlement. Her hands went to her throat as if to ward off a blow, before she checked the telling motion and put them firmly back at her sides.

“Yes, when I get back,” he said again, needlessly. He found himself wanting to explain certain details more fully—but mostly it was beyond elaboration. He called back the previous night at the cabin, how he and Chantal had moved in that rare new excitement as they packed and boarded up the place. But with Sevana’s face before him, the recollection wouldn’t stay sharp and clear. He felt full-force the uncertainty he was trying to ignore, until he remembered Willy—and was comfortable again.

“When will that be?” she was asking steadily.

“Not until spring.” He spoke with restored conviction. “Even then, it’ll depend on how things stand. If my father needs me, I might stay longer and work the claim, help him pay off his debts—be the gold miner I said I’d never be,” he added in an ironic way.

Sevana was forcing her mind to accept the stunning announcement. Finally, unforeseeably, his deepest desire was coming true for him. She had hoped for him that very thing at times. She clasped her hands resolutely. “I’m happy for you, Joel.”

“Thank you, Sevana. It’s been a long, uneven road. I hope—it’s for the best.”

“It will be.” Always she would desire his happiness, even over her own.

The apartment was very still, with the muted hush that falls over a city in the heart of the night. Even the rain had quieted, the blustery front already pushing on to other places. The candlewick burned straight and tall without a flicker.

Joel moved to the edge of the couch. But instead of getting up, he asked, “Do you have any artwork from your class you could show me?”

She found it extraordinary he would make that request when he was faced with other such urgent matters, but she said, “Yes, of course,” and flicked on the light as she went to get them.

He looked through the pictures she brought him. At the sight of Snowshoe Meadow she saw his jaw tighten, and he stared at it a long while. Was it possible that day held special meaning for him, too? “You painted it,” he said quietly, almost as if unaware he was speaking aloud. “You said you were going to.”

He went on to the next, to the end. As he laid down the last one, he said, “I knew you’d be famous, Sevana, but I didn’t think you’d get there quite so fast. These are remarkable.”

It was the very praise she’d worked for—but in the direness of the moment, it slipped past her unrecognized. She handed him back the painting of Snowshoe Meadow. “I’d like you to have this.”

“Are you sure?” He wasn’t of a mind to argue. “Thanks, that means a lot to me.”

Then he did stand up. “Now I can think of you in a real place, and know how well you’re doing.” He seemed pleased he could think of her flourishing there with her art. “It’s been great to see you, Sevana, but I’ve put this off as long as I can.”

“But Joel, you can’t start out in the middle of the night.” She was on her feet now, too, in objection. “You can catch a few hours of sleep here on the couch before you go off to battle your thousand miles of bad road, can’t you?”

“I’m already behind schedule. And I don’t know how sick my father is. I may not have the luxury of time.”

“You can’t drive straight through.” She was genuinely alarmed at the dangerous thing he was determined to do.

“I’ll catch a few hours of sleep when I need to. But right now, what with selling the sheep and seeing you and everything, I’m wide awake. But don’t worry—I’ll pull over if I start to nod off.”

“At least let me make you some coffee for the road.”

“There’s no need. Liddy Ownbey sent along a big thermos—not to mention a lunch that from the size of it, I’d say I’ll still be eating by the time I hit the Yukon.”

Helplessly she watched him button on his coat, knowing she could no more prevent him from going than keep the sun from rising or the clouds from blowing across the sky. “I’m so glad I got to see you again, Joel.” She paused with her hand deliberately on the doorknob, before allowing the two people currently, miraculously, in the same room to scatter to the ends of the earth away from each other. “I don’t think our paths will cross very often after this.”

“Our paths will never cease to cross, because we have a friendship forged on the mountain,” he assured her seriously. “I may marry Chantal, and you, Willy; but we will meet over the years, the four of us—and Willy and Chantal will just have to like each other.”

Sevana chortled. “Me, marry Willy?”

“A perfect match,” he declared with certainty. “When I saw you last night, you looked so well together—the two up-and-coming artists. Although I noticed he wasn’t drinking water.”

“Willy does drink rather a lot,” she said carefully. “But he’s very respected around town.” She did open the door then, and in a potent silence they walked down the stairs to his truck standing loaded with supplies under a canvas tarp. She hadn’t noticed it across the street earlier, in the rain and fog. It caught at her to see it—looking like a familiar old acquaintance, but out of place on the pavement instead of in the dusty turnaround.

It was still raining slightly, fine drops feathering on the light breeze, and the air was noticeably colder behind the front. Joel put his painting in the cab and walked around the truck to check the ropes holding the tarp. For the first time, Sevana thought of the horse who was so devoted to Joel. “Where’s Flint?”

“Boarded with a family from church. I’m sure they’ll spoil him royally.”

“Is anyone going to keep an eye on your place?”

“Well, that’s sort of a funny thing.” In the indistinct light of a corner streetlamp, she saw his mouth turn up, if unnaturally. “I ran into Randall this morning. Or, I should say, he ran into me. It being hunting season and all—he didn’t recognize the stock truck, and he was sure some Alberta hunter was poaching a moose in the back of that big van.”

At any other time they would have laughed, but now neither did. “When he heard what I was up to—I’m not sure how it all transpired exactly, but he’s going to lease my place. The extra income will be a big help to me right now.”

“The
warden’s
renting your place? He already has a house in town—with water and electricity and everything. And he told me he once thought even
that
place was primitive.”

“I know. I think he was looking at it from a strictly practical sense. Out there he’s closer to the middle of his territory, so it’s really a matter of efficiency. He can spend less time driving and more time patrolling. He’s never had an opportunity like that before, with private land next to non-existent out there.”

Sevana realized it was not entirely illogical from Mr. Radnor’s standpoint. “And he’s the one person who wouldn’t notice the walk up to the cabin.” She did laugh then, although it sounded slightly hysterical to her ears. “Even with all his groceries tied to his back, it’d be just a Sunday stroll for him.”

“You’re right. What he really wants to do is live there fulltime. He asked if I would ever consider selling the place. And I haven’t told Chantal yet—she left before I did—but right there, I decided I would sell the homestead to Randall and take the job in Vancouver so she can keep her career. But there wasn’t time to finalize the transaction, so we just shook on it, and agreed to take care of the paperwork when I get back.”

Sevana felt like the last bit of wind had been knocked out of her for the day. Why did she feel that the very foundation of her life had been yanked from under her—when it was his life that was changing, not hers? She remembered how he’d refused the Vancouver job last summer because he had the only life he wanted. She swept back her hair distractedly. “I never thought you’d leave the mountain.”

“I know, Sevana. But I never thought I’d have Chantal back in my life, either. And that changes everything for me. When Randall made the offer, I couldn’t see holding out just because I’m attached to the place. The sheep are sold, and I can make my fiddles anywhere. Chantal has an acre or so, plenty for a horse. I’m beginning a new life where there are two people to consider, not one. It just made the best sense all around.”

The words settled between them like the end of the discussion. Sevana stood very straight and faced him bravely in those last moments. “Will you call the art shop so I’ll know you made it to Mammoth Creek?”

“I’ll try. But don’t worry if you don’t hear from me. I may not be able to time it during business hours. And the phone at the general store isn’t always in working order.”

She had to accept that. “Promise me you’ll stay safe on the way, Joel.”

“I’ve got blankets and food, even firewood. I could sit out a week’s blizzard if I had to. I’m more worried about you, Sevana. Promise me again you’ll be careful here in the city.”

She tried to think how she could explain her presence at the Roadhouse the past two nights without merely confirming his fears—and decided it was safer to avoid the mention of it altogether. “I am being careful, Joel, truly.”

He wasn’t convinced. “If your boyfriend drinks a lot, maybe you should get a different one.”

She looked up quickly to meet his grave eyes. “He’s not my boyfriend.”

“You could have anybody you want.” It was a warning as much as a compliment. “Make sure you choose wisely.”

There was another silence between them, Sevana staring up at him without reply. Now that it had come to the moment of parting, knowing he was about to get in his truck and drive away, she was afraid to let him go. She had no assurance of seeing him again; even if she did go back to Stony River for a visit, he wouldn’t be there. She was losing him right here, right now.

In the most heartfelt fear she flew against his chest, into arms that readily received her, and was there a long time with her cheek against his scratchy coat—seeking strength against an unknown future she couldn’t find in herself, seeking comfort from his kindness on which she had come to depend. Gently he put her from him, while her upturned eyes still clung to his face. “Don’t forget me, Sevana,” he said huskily.

While she stood wordlessly with a hand at her throat, the throbbing there telling her such a thing was not possible, he started to get in the truck. But he was back directly, smiling now. “I forgot—I was going to give you this.” He held out his Bible.

“Oh, no!” Not his Bible, well-worn, pored-over—well-loved. “I—couldn’t.”

“I thought of it on the way over. I wanted to give you something to remind you of our friendship…unless that sounds too sentimental.”

“Oh, no, I’d love to have it, but—”

“Take it. I’ll pick up another one on the way. They’re easy to come by.” He put it in her hand. This time he did get in the truck and drove down the street, the red tail-lights vanishing slowly around a corner.

Sevana saw the lights long after they were gone. It should have been she who had packed him a big lunch, sent him off with a thermos of coffee, instead of a rancher’s wife he barely knew. There he went, going off to contend with subzero temperatures and snowstorms and a selfish, drunken father, all because of some ingrained sense of duty—and she had done nothing to help him, and instead had caused him an unpardonable delay. She was angry with herself all over again.

She went back to her apartment. It still smelled like him—like smoke, as if he had recently stoked the stove, like fresh air, like pitchy pine. She couldn’t believe how deserted the room felt. She hadn’t known until he filled it, that it was empty without him.

She turned off the light and went to look out the window, searching the dark street where no truck was parked. Everything in her wanted to call him back, make him materialize there, beg him to stay, so that she might not know this awful void again.

But Joel did not return, and Sevana went to sink down on her bed. Now she knew what he had been doing that night he was at the Roadhouse. He’d been arranging to sell his sheep to Mr. Ownbey. Her hands were clenched in tight fists. She hadn’t known the trouble he was facing that night as he stared into the candle on his table. And tonight, while she had been out with a brash and boisterous crowd, he had been bringing them over.

She bowed her head. The flock was sold and Joel was leaving the mountain. He was marrying the love of his life, and it wasn’t her. She could no longer pretend he was just in the high country, for it didn’t matter now…he would never be coming back to her. Everything was changing, but oh! she didn’t want it to change. There was nothing at all she wanted, except to go back to those fine, free days of last summer.

Before she realized it she was in those days again, as pictures crowded before her in a flood of searing images. She saw Joel coming down the pasture with Blazingstar on his shoulders…kneeling over Goldthread, coaxing him to eat the mash he had mixed for him…reaching over the ledge to pull Hawthorn back to safety. She saw him hooting and laughing as he ran through the icicle waters of Frog Creek with her…leading her out of the trees into a fairy world of camas flowers…fearlessly leaning over the splintery rail of the lookout as he pointed out the far ranges, the whole wide sky as his backdrop. She saw him riding down Stormy Pass to meet her, disbelief in his eyes…eyes full of merriment as he handed her a stalk of Indian paintbrush…thoughtful eyes as he regarded her over the morning campfire. Sharp, vividly defined pictures that made her laugh and cut her to the quick at the same time, until she buried her face in her hands, crushed by the destitution she felt. The candle fluttered in the other room, burning low, drowning in its own melted blood-red wax, but she didn’t move to extinguish it. She was so afraid, deep down, that those images would stay in her mind forever to haunt her with their absence. And she knew with a kind of terror that any life she made without Joel and the flock and the song of the violin could only be empty.