Duck Boy (31 page)

The others froze in their seats, and Mr. Best lay paralyzed with terror on
the floor.

“Silent Night!” Uncle Edward exclaimed. “It’s Susan, come home.”

“Hello, everyone,” Mrs. Best chirped cheerily. “I’m back.”

No one moved. Each person was too stunned by what had happened even to make
a comment. They just stared at Mrs. Best.

“What’s everyone doing here?” Steve asked as he rounded a corner and entered
the living room. He’d materialized back in his bedroom and walked to the living
room. Everyone in the room turned their frozen stares toward Steve, without
uttering a single word—stunned back into silence.

“What? What’s the matter?” Steve asked, as he noticed the deep lines of
grief and shock on the faces in the room. “What’s going on? What have I done
now?”

“Mary and the Blessed Baby! Steve’s returned, too!” Uncle Edward exclaimed
with a triumphant shout. Uncle Edward’s words seemed to free everyone from the
staring trance that had held them motionless, and the room exploded into
pandemonium. Mr. Best leapt from his spot on the floor into his wife’s waiting
arms as she sat on the chair, and they showered each other with affection.

The two of them opened their arms as Steve joined them in a huge hug. It
wasn’t a time for words. All the people in the room flooded around the Best
family, forming a huge mob of joy. Once the initial shock of the moment was
over, the emotion in the room gave way to a torrent of questions.

Lindsay hugged Steve and then held him at arm’s length, inspecting him with
a puzzled look. “I thought for sure you were dead. What happened?”

“And what happened to your hand?” asked Mr. Best, pointing to Steve’s
missing finger.

The hubbub in the rest of the room settled down as he asked the question.
Steve flopped onto the floor as the group began to share their stories and
perceptions of all that had happened.

Partway through the festivities, the doorbell rang. It was Larry, in uniform.
He stepped inside to address the family.

“I’m here to convey my official condolences to the family on the passing of
Steve Best,” he said somberly. His eyebrows showed his confusion as he noticed
the giddy people milling around the room.

When he saw Steve sitting on the couch, Larry fainted.

Steve and Mr. Best lifted the detective onto the couch, and the group
continued their conversations until he reawakened.

Larry was initially quite uncomfortable with the idea that Steve was still
alive and Mrs. Best had returned.

But after a few minutes he recovered most of his composure.

“You won’t believe how much paperwork I’ll have to do.” Though he smiled.
“It’s great to have you back. Now we’ve really got a complicated mess on our
hands,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m here on a matter of utmost urgency. And
with you two alive, it gets much more knotted.” He thought for a moment before
attempting to explain.

“The criminals we captured are an experimenting group of alchemists who are
after any alchemical secrets. They want to make themselves rich. You and your
family have obviously managed to find and use several methods that would make
you targets for the rest of your lives. That’s why we must keep everything that
has happened a secret. No one but the people in this room must ever know what
went on in this case—ever.” He paused for a moment. “I am going to have to
explain how Steve managed to survive the fire, and how Mrs. Best managed to
return home. This isn’t going to be easy.” He thought for a few moments.

“How would everybody feel if I reported things like this: I’ll say that Mrs. Best
went on a trip to California. I know you have a sister there. I’d like to say,
um… that it was… um… well, that you were having marriage difficulties—if that’s
OK with you.” Larry eyed Mr. and Mrs. Best carefully, waiting for their
agreement.

After looking at each other, they both nodded slowly.

“Most people would believe that. Um… could we say she left a note somewhere,
but that the note was lost somehow?” Larry looked around the room, making sure
people agreed with him. “Mrs. Best, you’re going to have to invent a clear
story about where you went and what you did. Mr. and Mrs. Best, you need to
invent a marriage problem. Make sure your story is straight, all right?” Larry
paused for a moment and turned to Steve. “I’m going to have to say something
about how you got out of the fire, Steve.”

Steve thought with Larry and made his own suggestion. “Why don’t you say I
was hit on the head, wandered away from the scene, and was found later?”

“That’s not bad. I think I’ll use it. How will I explain how you lost your
finger?”

“Maybe, while I was lost, one of my fingers was frostbitten and had to be
amputated.”

“That’s not too bad,” Larry said, thumbing his chin. “We’ll have to create
some medical records somewhere to back this story up. It’s got to be perfect.”

“You’re not a group of alchemists, OK?” Larry insisted as he looked around
the room. “You’re just ordinary people who were mistakenly victimized by this
gang, all right?” He scanned the room making sure everyone was in agreement.
“By the way, I got my job back because of this case,” he pointed to Aunt
Shannon and Steve. “I owe it all to you guys. Although I lost my job because of
you, too.” He replaced his hat after scratching his head and staring at Steve
and Mrs. Best. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

Larry headed out to his car under the clear night air, brooding over the
tsunami of paper work now waiting for him.

Inside Steve’s house, around the warm light of a fire, the group recounted
their various experiences, and how their lives had been changed by all of it.
But it was Steve’s story that inspired them all, the story of how he had
transformed from a frightened, frozen Duck Boy into the Lord of the Pond.

Epilogue

At the place in between, the twilight did not change, nor did the deep
solitude. No soul walked the shoreline. No boat sailed the sea. The
dark, hungry water raged as things below moved to the surface and
dropped below again. Waiting.

About the Author

teaches English at Mt. Royal University in Calgary, Alberta, Canada. He lives out in the country where he has numerous dogs and cats and three teenagers, and keeps bees. He is the author, along with his wife, of an illustrated children’s book, Canoë Lune, and a columnist. His columns have appeared in
Salon, The Globe and Mail,
and elsewhere.
Duck Boy
is his first novel.

About the Images

The chapter vignettes are from the Tombats series of fonts, created by
Tom Murphy VII (Tom7) and freely available on the Web. Thanks to Tom for
making these and other designs available.