Stony River (75 page)

The sight of the cabin standing deserted hurt her again: nothing could keep her from it—not logic, nor an efficiency-obsessed game warden, nor a gilt wedding invitation residing somewhere on her living room floor. She even knocked at the door, waited a long time before turning away. At the bottom of the pasture she stopped again, vainly scanning the empty hillside for a shepherd and a flock of sheep, before she dismounted and led Trapper to the top.

And then she was standing in the place that had never ceased to occupy her thoughts, the mountains dominating the sky so grandly they dwarfed even her best recollections of them. Everything was exactly as before—the grass-covered slope dropping to the valley floor in a breathtaking sweep, like a curtain torn away, to reveal the snowpeaked crests rising in their glory to the sun. It was all so eternal, so unaffected by man’s comings and goings. It would be here year after year for anyone who came to see it—and even if they didn’t.

Gratitude welled up in her. If she was never there again, there was something momentous in being able to stand attendant on that spot after all the months away. It had happened—her desire had been granted: she had seen Graystone and Old Stormy and Bearclaw again with her own eyes. This moment was hers as a gift forever.

She took a seat and fingered the lush grass. It was fresh and fine-bladed, growing high, watered by mountain snows and spring rains. If only Goldthread and Hawthorn could be there to revel in it! For all her pleasure, it didn’t seem right to enjoy it without Joel and the flock to share it with.

Fenn was asleep in the big chair when Sevana got home. She was adding a can of clams to the potato chowder, proud she still remembered how to work the makeshift little can opener, when he hobbled sleepy-eyed into the kitchen and took a chair to watch her work. At dinner he asked how the mountain was, but little else. He seemed possessed by thoughts of his own.

Sevana washed the dishes and cared for Trapper. When she came back from the barn, Fenn was on the bench watching the smoky blue shadows deepen amid the tree points on the ridgeside. And she couldn’t bear the melancholy in his eyes, and went to put her hand on his shoulder, for she wasn’t afraid of him anymore. Still, she didn’t know what to say.

He shifted his gaze to rest on her briefly, then back to the far view. “Why did you come, Sevana?” he spoke up.

“I thought I could be of some help to you,” she said, surprised he should even have to ask.

“Why would you want to?” There was humility in his voice she’d never heard before.

She looked at his stoical profile in disbelief that such a perceptive man could be so blind. “Because I love you,” she said.

At those words, he bowed his head as though they were too great a weight upon him. “Forgive me,” he said after a time, without looking up. “Sevana, forgive me.”

“I don’t hold a thing against you,” she said in a choked voice. “I’ve always loved you, and I always will.”

He didn’t look up. It was quiet except for the distant churning of the rapids. Hesitantly she sat beside him. “Fenn, you’ve changed so. Why are you so different now?”

He straightened, his eyes bright with hints of unshed tears. “It’s been a strange time. I’ll tell you about it, if you’d like.”

In unspoken agreement she leaned back against the log wall to listen.

“Remember when I got sick last summer, and I had that dream—that log rolling over and over in the sky? It was so vivid I can recall it yet! I told you it was bad creek water that laid me up, but it was actually a bad combination of peyote and alcohol. At that time something seemed to change; and after that, a darkness would come upon me at times, as if I was standing in the icy breath of a howling black void. Darkness! It would come over me and a nameless fear would grip me, until I would shake from cold and terror.

“I threw myself into my work—hoping the normal routines of the job would bring me out of the strange unreality haunting me. In the commonplace days of hard labor I could find some stability, but I came to dread the night hours when the darkness might close in on me again. It was not that it was always upon me, but I lived in dread of its return. I would stay awake until weariness forced me to surrender, and even then I would sometimes leave a candle burning all night.

“When the days grew short—after you left, Sevana—living in the shadow of the mountain, I was often terrified. And all the while I was trying to pull myself out of the unaccountable thing I’d fallen into. I would stay among the crowd at the Whiskyjack rather than spend evenings alone in my own mind, where at any time I could become a hunted man. I’d always been a loner, relied on no one but myself, but now my self was not a refuge to me but a trap.

“At first I couldn’t understand what had overtaken me, but gradually I came to realize the alteration had a name: it was insanity. I could actually feel my mind slipping away during those times. I figured I’d gone too far with the peyote—something I’d purposely started back in military school as a way to get thrown out of there.

“I was spooked enough to quit everything cold-turkey, even the Old Crow. I welcomed the return of the sun and felt it burning away some of the darkness, but it didn’t leave me altogether and I was tired of the struggle. Then came the day when I looked up to see the log deck rolling down the hill with the blue sky behind it, rolling as if it was marked for me. And in that instant the dream I’d had flashed through my mind, and I understood with perfect clarity the meaning of it all: I was going to die. It had been determined by some dark power, and all that had gone before was a prelude to that final event.

“I couldn’t move a muscle to save myself, so frozen was I with terror. Then Hawk jerked me so my eyes were no longer riveted on those logs, and I came to my senses and ran for my life—for my life, I tell you!—running from the darkness that was trying to claim me for its own. I didn’t want to spend eternity in the company of that darkness. That thought was even more horrifying than the thought of death itself. But if Hawk hadn’t grabbed me, I would have been crushed by that deck for sure, so certain was my expectation that I was done for. And if I had died, I would have died a bitter man,” he said, as Sevana sat regarding him with wide eyes, for his tale was no ordinary one.

“You know, Sevana,” he went on, “I’ve had plenty of time to think through all this. A man in trouble is not as arrogant as a man at peace. I still don’t understand everything that’s happened, but I do know I’ve been wrong living as I have. You being here last summer—it changed me, though I wouldn’t admit it. For a long time after you left, I wouldn’t acknowledge my life seemed empty without you. I’ve wished you back since.”

Tears filled her eyes; and when Fenn put his arm around her and gingerly pulled her to his side, she gave up trying to blink them back and let the drops spill freely against his shoulder.

The whole land was in shadow now, the air cool and damp. Fenn rose stiffly, steadying himself against the logs. “I shouldn’t have sat out so long,” he said in a strained voice.

“I’ll help you upstairs.” She went around to his good side and took hold of his arm to support him as they went in the house. But the stairs were too narrow, and she had to let him manage them for himself—following anxiously as he tackled each agonizing step. He sank onto his bed white-faced as she lit the candle. Then she hesitated. She didn’t like to think of leaving him alone to battle such things as he’d spoken of. “Does the darkness come upon you anymore?” she asked quietly.

“No, it’s gone,” he said. “Since the accident, I don’t know why, but I feel like I’ve got both feet on solid ground again. Maybe the shock of it snapped me out of it, I don’t know. Even now, it’s hard to believe any of it was real.”

“Maybe everybody has some kind of darkness to face in their life, one way or another,” Sevana said. “I know last winter I had to face some dark times of my own.”

“You’ll have to tell me about it,” Fenn said. “Seems to me I’ve been doing all the talking.”

“I will,” she promised. “But not tonight, for we’ve talked too long already.” She wished him a good rest and went to her room, where she sat gazing out the window at the dark ridgeline soaring overhead like a raven with its wings outstretched in flight, thinking she’d never been so happy.

CHAPTER 53

A week passed, and then another. Fenn was gaining strength and able to help with a share of the work. He was no longer in constant pain; it went hard for him only when he took too much upon himself—such as the day Sevana found him doubled over at the spring after he tried to lift a full bucket of water. He could walk easily now, and the two of them sometimes took leisurely rambles in the long evenings. He was still more of a thinker than a talker, but seemed willing to let her bubble over with enthusiasm for the beauty around them, and shared in appreciation of the things she spoke of. And looking up to catch his smile at something she’d said, or an expression of friendliness in his eyes, Sevana had to remind herself that what she was seeing in him was true.

The quiet afternoons when Fenn was napping or reading, Sevana rode to the pasture. Now that she and Fenn were in accord, she had only one other wish—and this she kept to herself. But Fenn would have had to be a much less observant man than he was, not to notice she always came home from her rides a little downcast, and very silent.

One day Sevana got up the nerve to ask about Melanie. But Fenn hadn’t seen her, thought she’d moved to another town—maybe Castlegar.

At first this news discouraged her, but then she came up with a plan she felt was worth a try. She wrote a letter inviting Melanie for a noon lunch—avoiding any mention of Fenn lest it scare her away—and addressed it in care of Lakeshore Lodge. She would have to hope Melanie’s former employer or the small-town postmaster knew her present location. She also wrote Willy as promised, telling him of Fenn’s improvement. She said she missed him—but felt a little guilty over the statement, for he had occupied her thoughts very seldom since her return to Stony River.

Then, letters in hand, she frequented the river road waiting for someone to come by. When someone did, it was Pete, back from a day of fishing. He stopped to chat out the truck window, friendly as ever. She asked if he could mail the letters next time he was in town, and he said he’d be glad to. He knew Melanie; she’d been part of the regular crowd at the Whiskyjack. “What are you up to, a little matchmaking?” he speculated, anchoring the letters under his tackle box.

When Sevana couldn’t deny it, he grinned. “Maybe those two will get back together yet.” He told her Melanie had taken some flak for going out with Fenn, because he was more standoffish than the rest of the bar crowd. One chap in particular had convinced her she needed to play the field, and had taken her out a few times. But evidently she’d had quite the thing for Fenn. After she and Fenn had broken up, she’d been at the bar night after night alone. All the other guys had tried to get her to forget him, but she wouldn’t go out with any of them. It was like a local project, trying to get her over her broken heart. He didn’t know if they’d ever succeeded. Last he’d heard, she’d moved to Castlegar.

“Hey,” added Pete, “there’s a stack of Fenn’s mail back at camp. I’ll run you down to get it right now, if you have time.”

So Sevana went to the logging camp for the letters. When Pete handed her his three-envelope version of a stack, she saw the top letter was from Willy. Trick and Clyde were there, and she sat around the cookhouse with them for a while. She remembered telling Trick she would see him next summer if she returned, and Pete had unknowingly helped her keep her word. She complimented them on the radio phone, which looked just like an ordinary desk phone sitting on a table near the door; and told them about her upcoming plans for Calgary. But it wasn’t until she was home reading Willy’s letter that she realized just how immediate those plans were. The letter was brief, and as persuasive as Willy was in person:

Sevana
—
I’m all settled here. Business is enormous. But my world is empty without you. I’m tired of waiting for you, so I’m coming to get you June 10. Pack your bags, doll face. Calgary and I await. Yours forever, Willy

P.S. If you don’t come with me now, I’ll be forced to give your job to the girl next door, who would be only too glad to get out of working at the flowershop for bad hours and minimum pay.

Sevana shook her head. She bet she knew exactly who the girl was, too, remembering the charmer in the hallway. Willy—threatening to give away her job to make sure she came back!

It was funny, looking back at her life with him—it was like seeing another person’s life. It didn’t hurt her to be away from it, didn’t haunt her to think she could lose it; she was as detached as if she had no ties to it. But Willy was coming to take her back to that very life—and sooner than she’d expected. He would be here in four days. Willy, in his little white sportscar! Would he even be able to find their place? And what would he think of the roads? It was unfortunate she had already written her letter, or she could have cautioned him about the low-water crossings and drawn a map.

She was so worried about it that she asked to borrow Fenn’s truck, and returned to camp for her letter. But Pete had already left with it for an evening at the saloon. Learning her predicament, Milt suggested she call Willy on the phone, an offer she readily accepted.

Having been warned about the weak reception, the echo, and the possibility of being cut off in mid-conversation, she gripped the receiver prepared to shout into it, while Milt, Clyde, and Emery stood around watching in a helpful, anticipatory way. But instead of a dial tone all she heard was a series of clicks. “The sun must have gone behind a cloud,” Milt despaired, running outside to look. “There’s blue sky on the way!” he came back in excitedly to report. But even when the sun returned, the dial tone did not.