The Loop (38 page)

‘Dear Lord, we thank thee for leading our forefathers in safety across this great land and for helping them overcome the many perils and hardships they faced in making this, our home, a place of safety. May their courage and thy spirit guide us and make us worthy of the fruits of thy love laid before us this day. Amen.’

‘Amen.’

Everyone started talking at once and the Thanksgiving feast began.

They were fifteen in all, including Kathy Hicks’ baby who sat regally between his parents in a high chair, bolted to one end of the table. Luke’s sister Lane and her husband, Bob, had come over from Bozeman. Lane was a high school teacher, who not only looked like her mother but had the same gentle dignity too. Bob seemed only to be able to talk about real estate prices. He was doing so now with Doug Millward, who was here with Hettie and their three children. Apart from Helen, the only other ‘outsider’ was Ruth Michaels, who had arrived late, looking even more apprehensive than Helen.

Helen had only accepted the invitation because Luke insisted. She had been wary of how his father might behave toward her and didn’t know if she had recovered enough confidence to lock horns with him. She needn’t have worried. Buck Calder had been charming. And so had everyone else.

Before lunch, Helen had helped Kathy lay the table and they’d had their first real chat. Helen was impressed by how bright and funny she was, though quite what she saw in Clyde remained a mystery. As Helen knew from her own experience, there was no accounting for some women’s choice of partner. By the time they sat down to eat, fortified by Luke’s quiet presence beside her, Helen was glad she had come.

It was warming to be part of a family occasion and in a proper home, even if it wasn’t her own. And it was the best meal she’d had in months. She had three helpings of turkey and Doug Millward, who was sitting on her other side, made a big joke of it and kept passing dishes to her.

It wasn’t until her plate was finally clear that anyone mentioned wolves.

‘So, Buck,’ Hettie Millward said. ‘Did you get yourself an elk this season?’

‘No, ma’am. I did not.’

‘He never was much of a shot,’ Doug Millward said to Helen in a stage whisper. Everyone laughed. Then Clyde piped up:

‘I was talking to that outfitter fella, Pete Neuberg, you know? Says it’s been one of the worst hunting seasons in years. Elk and deer numbers are way down, he says. He blames the wolves.’

Kathy raised her eyes to the ceiling. ‘I hear they’re to blame for the weather too.’

‘How can wolves be to blame for the weather?’ little Charlie Millward said.

His sister Lucy gave him a shove. ‘It was a joke, dumbo.’

There was a moment of silence. Helen saw Buck Calder was staring at her across the table.

‘What do you think, Helen?’ he said.

‘About them being to blame for the weather?’

She regretted the smart remark as soon as she’d said it. The laughter it prompted subtly changed Calder’s smile. Helen was aware of Luke shifting uneasily in his seat. She hurried on.

‘Well, they’re certainly killing elk and deer. That’s what they mainly feed on, so their being here is bound to have an impact. But not a huge one.’

Clyde sneered quietly, earning himself a narrow-eyed look from his wife. Luke leaned forward and cleared his throat.

‘W-we’ve seen a l-lot of elk and deer the l-last few weeks.’

‘That’s true,’ Helen said. ‘We have.’

No one spoke for a moment. Eleanor stood up to clear the dishes.

‘Well, I don’t know,’ she said. ‘At least they’re not eating cattle anymore.’

‘They never ate any of mine,’ Doug Millward said.

Luke shrugged. ‘M-maybe yours d-don’t taste so good.’

Everyone, even Luke’s father, roared and the conversation turned to other matters. When no one was looking, Helen turned to Luke.

‘Thanks, partner,’ she said quietly.

 

That secret look and, earlier, the touch of her hand while his father said grace, stayed with Luke for a long time.

He’d been so proud that she should call him her partner. Sitting beside her that day, he’d felt almost as though he was her boyfriend or something. When there were lots of people sitting around the table like that, he normally kept his mouth shut, in case his stutter ambushed him. But having Helen at his side gave him such confidence that, without thinking, he’d spoken up to defend her. Hell, he’d even cracked a joke!

Over the fortnight that followed, it seemed to Luke that they had grown even closer. And yet, in his dreams, it was the opposite. Whenever he dreamed of her now, which was often, she was always with someone else or didn’t recognize him or was laughing at him.

Except for the dream he’d had last night.

He was walking with her at the very edge of the ocean on a curve of white sand, palm-fringed and flawless, the kind you see in travel brochures. She was wearing a yellow dress that showed her shoulders. The gently breaking waves were streaming up over the sand and frothing around their bare feet. The water was warm and clear and in the glassed arc of the waves before they broke he could see great shoals of fish.

He pointed them out and Helen stopped and stood, with her shoulder touching his, and they both watched. The fish were of many different kinds and shapes and colors but they moved as one, darting and turning in perfect synchrony.

It was one of those dreams you knew to be a dream even as you dreamt it, the kind that slipped away as the real world seeped in, no matter how hard you tried to cling on. Sometimes though, Luke had found there was a moment, when conscious and unconscious were fleetingly in balance and you could dictate events. And it had been like that this morning. He had willed Helen to turn to him and she had done so. And in the instant before he woke, she had lifted her mouth to his and almost, almost, kissed him.

He thought about the dream while he shaved and showered and he knew he would go on reliving it all day. It had obviously been prompted by Helen getting a letter yesterday from her father, enclosing a plane ticket and a formal invitation to his wedding in Barbados. She was going in three weeks’ time, for Christmas, and would be away for more than a week.

Luke got himself dressed and headed down for breakfast.

It was a quarter to eight. Every other day he would have been up two hours ago and out in the forest tracking with Helen. But today was Wednesday: speech therapy. He had already heard his mother’s car leave. With Christmas coming up, she was helping Ruth in the store pretty well every day.

His father’s office opened directly onto the living room. He always left the door open, so he could monitor the movements of the household. As Luke came down the stairs he could see him in there, sitting in front of the computer, a cigar stuck between his teeth.

‘Luke?’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Morning.’

‘M-morning.’

His father put down his cigar and took off the little half-moon spectacles he used for reading. He leaned back in his big leather chair.

‘Not out with Helen today?’

‘No sir. It’s m-my c-clinic day.’

‘Oh, yeah.’

His father stood up and came out into the living room. He had that easy, amiable look on his face, the one that made Luke most suspicious.

‘Gonna have some breakfast?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘I’ll join you for a coffee.’

His father led the way into the kitchen and took the pot off the coffee machine. He filled two cups and took them to the table. Luke never drank coffee, but his father always forgot that. Luke poured himself some cereal and sat down opposite him.

He knew what was coming. These casual, cozy, father-and-son chats about his work with Helen had been happening a lot lately. Only the other day his father had asked a whole load of detailed questions about radio-collar frequencies. It was comical. If the guy had shown any interest in Luke’s life before, he might have stood a better chance.

‘So, how’s the therapy going?’

‘It’s g-going fine.’

‘So poor old Helen has to cope by herself, huh?’

Luke smiled. ‘Yeah.’

His father nodded thoughtfully and took a drink from his cup.

‘So how’d the tracking go yesterday?’

‘G-good.’

‘Where are they mainly hanging out now?’

‘Oh, they m-m-move around all th-the time.’

‘Yeah, but I mean, like yesterday, for example?’

Luke swallowed. He was okay at being evasive, but when it came to straightforward lying, he was hopeless. His stutter nearly always betrayed him. His father was watching him very closely.

‘Y-y-esterday, they were way b-back. Right up b-by the divide.’

‘Uh-huh?’

‘Yeah. Ab-b-bout ten miles s-south of the b-big wwall.’

‘Is that so?’

Luke saw his father’s face harden and he cursed himself for making such a mess of it. It wouldn’t have fooled a gullible kid. For salvation, he looked up at the clock.

‘I’d b-b-better be going.’

‘The roads are clear. Clyde was out blading first thing.’

Luke got up and put his bowl in the dishwasher. He picked up his car keys and took his hat and coat from the pegs by the door. He knew his father’s eyes were on him the whole while.

‘Go carefully, Luke.’

The voice was cold and flat. Luke zipped up his coat.

‘Yes, sir.’

And he opened the door and fled.

 

The session with Joan went well.

She told him of a new therapy technique she’d been reading about, where you videoed the stutterer and then edited out all the stutters to show him how it looked and sounded when he talked fluently. Joan said it apparently got great results, but she wasn’t going to waste the money on him because he’d hardly stuttered once in the whole hour.

When they said goodbye she touched his arm and said how happy he looked. And as he walked to his car, he wondered how it showed. It was true. He’d never felt happier in his whole life. It was like he was, kind of, singing inside.

From the clinic, he drove across town to the supermarket to pick up some things Helen had asked him to get. He parked the Jeep among the mounds of freshly plowed snow and, as soon as he got out, saw Cheryl Snyder and Jerry Kruger heading toward him. They had already seen him, so there was no escape. Kruger had his arm around her, making a big show of it, presumably to let the world know he and Cheryl were now an item.

‘Hey, Cooks! How’re you doing?’

‘Hi, Luke.’

They stood chatting for a minute or two, or rather, Luke listened while Kruger rabbited on, cracking jokes that Cheryl didn’t even smile at. What on earth she saw in the guy Luke couldn’t imagine. Eventually he said he’d better get on with his shopping and they all said goodbye. He was walking away when Kruger called after him.

‘Hey, Cooks! Congratulations!’

Luke turned and frowned at him.

‘Hear you got yourself laid at last.’

‘What?’

Luke could see Cheryl jabbing him in the ribs, telling him to shut up. But Kruger took no notice.

‘Aw, come on, don’t go all coy. The wolf babe! Everybody knows.’

He howled, just like that day at the fair, and started laughing. Cheryl broke away from him.

‘Don’t take any notice, Luke,’ she said.

‘I’m just h-h-helping her. That’s all.’

‘Yeah, right,’ Kruger. ‘Oiling her traps, huh?’

Cheryl gave him an angry push. ‘Jerry, you’re gross. Just shut up, okay?’

Luke walked the aisles of the supermarket in a state of shock. He knew that Hope, like any small town, thrived on gossip. But it was the first time he’d found himself the subject of it.

All he prayed was that Helen didn’t get to hear about it.

 

Eleanor fixed the star to the top of the Christmas tree in the shop window and stood back.

‘Let’s have a look from outside,’ Ruth said.

Eleanor followed her out onto the sidewalk. An icy wind was blowing directly down Main Street, playing havoc with the strings of colored lights that zigzagged between the facing storefronts. The two women stood outside Paragon, holding their hair from their faces while they admired Eleanor’s handiwork.

‘It looks beautiful,’ Ruth said. ‘Whenever I do Christmas trees they always end up looking Jewish.’

Eleanor laughed. ‘How can a tree look Jewish?’

Ruth shrugged. ‘I don’t know. They just do. You’re a Catholic, huh?’

‘Born, raised and lapsed.’

‘It shows. I mean, the born and raised bit. Catholics do good trees.’

Eleanor laughed again. ‘Ruth, I’m freezing to death out here.

They went inside and while Ruth served some customers who’d been looking around for ages, Eleanor got on with decorating the rest of the store.

She had brought some greenery and a stepladder from the ranch that morning. It had been years since she had put up Christmas decorations. They never bothered at home anymore and doing it now gave her a nostalgic, almost childlike pleasure. It was getting dark outside and the lights on the tree in the window glowed warmly.

When the customers had gone, Ruth came to help her hang a big gold streamer across the front end of the store. Ruth held one end while Eleanor went up the stepladder to tack the other to the picture rail.

‘So, is Luke still helping Helen Ross out with the wolves?’

‘Yes. We hardly ever see him.’

‘I like her.’

‘I do too. I think Luke’s got a bit of a crush on her.’

‘How old is he now?’

‘Eighteen.’ She pushed in the tack.

‘He’s so handsome! Makes me wish
I
was a few years younger, anyhow.’

Eleanor looked down at her and Ruth seemed suddenly embarrassed.

Eleanor smiled. ‘Shall we fix the other end now?’