Darren Effect (16 page)

“Yeah. But I think it's reabsorb. Not abort.”

“I think it's either. Pregnancy disruption. And I think it's chiefly been observed in rodents. Why do you mention it?”

She shrugged.

The girls' chattering voices could be heard as they drew closer.

“So that's why you were following me?” he joked.

It was the first time he'd referred to their previous meetings.

“I wonder if it's painful?”

He stared at her.

“The reabsorption? I wonder if it's painful.”

He looked offended. “You're not reabsorbing that,” he said, indicating her belly with his thumb.

“It was just something I thought of.”

“You sound like you might not want that baby.”

“Forget I brought it up.”

They fell silent. Heather sensed Darren regretted his remark, though she already knew he was not the type to make apologies.

She turned and saw the girls standing only a few metres away, staring at them. It was obvious they had been heading for the pool. Surprisingly, they were wearing bathing suits.

“Heather, I want to ask your advice on something.”

“Mine?”

“There's a young boy living next door to me. He's a good kid, just confused I think. His mother — a single mother — she worries about him. She's having a difficult time with him.”

“Your neighbour?”

“Yes. I thought with your background?”

“I don't see children, Darren. And I'm on leave.”

“I don't mean that you
see
him. Just observe him.”

“Where?”

“As it happens, the mother is hosting a barbeque next weekend,” he said. “It's the Avalon Nature Club's spring event. You could join us.”

“I don't really think that's my thing, Darren.”

“Anyone is welcome. It's not a big crowd. And the club is always looking for new members.”

“Darren, that's foolish. I'm not going to be able to tell you anything — or the mother — by simply watching him at a party. And I don't see children.”

“He does some unusual things. I think he'd be easy to observe. He chooses not to walk, for example.”

The girls were engaged in a conversation that appeared humourless and unrhythmic, though Heather couldn't hear a word of it. It was soft and padded, like rain on a cabin roof. They were removing plates and utensils and containers of food, a jug and two glasses. Heather began to suspect their conversation was entirely food related.

“He doesn't walk? Do you mean he's delayed?”

“No, no. He's twelve years old and he can walk. But he crawls.” Darren shook his head, smiling, as though it were too wild to believe. “He sprained his ankle six months ago. The point is, the leg is fine.”

“But he doesn't walk?” “Sometimes he gets up and walks, sure, but just as often he doesn't. You'd also have the opportunity to meet more birdwatchers.”

“Darren, I don't think I'd be any help.”

“By the way, where was the frostbite? Your ears?”

She turned quickly to him. He had been studying her ear, but now he was looking into her eyes. He would be justified in thinking her not only crazy, but ridiculous.

“My feet. How did you know about that?”

“Heard it on the news.”

“Oh, right.”

“So that wasn't you they interviewed?”

“No, my sister Mandy. ”

“Mandy was also following me?”

“Yes. I'm really sorry about all that.”

“I know your sister, don't I?”

“Yes.”

“Maybe Mandy would like to come to the barbeque as well?”

They both knew she owed him. She looked back towards the girls, who were arranging themselves on beach towels, their naked legs sticking straight out before them with a demeanor girlish and prim. They slipped their bathing suit straps off their shoulders and then began fiddling with the height of their suits above their small breasts: a little higher, a little lower. They lay down, they sat back up, they adjusted their sun hats, they wiggled their bums on the towels.

“I can't believe those girls are wearing bathing suits,” she said. “Surely they're not planning on swimming?”

“Come on,” Darren said, taking her hand and shaking it. The touch surprised her. “You might like this crowd. You seemed enthusiastic about the crossbills.”

Yes, the crossbills. That was true.

This would have to be her last meeting with Darren, who may have been scheming to extract a free assessment of his neighbour's child from her for some time. If he didn't have a wife, he had this neighbour. And yes, she owed him. She had been a complete stranger, appearing out of nowhere in isolated areas. She could have been armed, she could have been a serious threat. Yet he had put up with her. What she didn't get was why he would ask a pregnant nutbar for professional advice. Well, some people will take anything if it's free.

And maybe it was a way to score points with this neighbour.

“So I can bring Mandy with me?”

“Absolutely. As I said, the club is always looking for new members.” He paused. “And I'll be bringing my sister as well.”

Suddenly the girls stopped chatting. A third youngster had arrived: a boy alien-like in dripping wet socks and dry trunks, his naked chest pale and emaciated. The girls stared at him with disapproval and alarm, though Heather guessed they had been expecting him. He circled the girls without a word and then was gone at a run. The girls exploded into giggles.
At the parking lot Heather found she was winded. She leaned against her car and a sharp pain clutched her lower abdomen. She breathed deeply and waited for it to pass. Darren stood close by, visibly worried.

“Maybe I'm finally starting to reabsorb it.”

“Finally?” he sounded as though he believed there was some truth to the idea. He pulled up the sleeve of his coat to check the time. “I need to get you back to town.”

“I need food, actually. I think it's low blood sugar.”

He studied her a moment, hesitating, then suggested they stop for supper on their way back. He had a place in mind. The Pearly Everlasting Country Manor. Heather said she'd never heard of it.

“Sounds like a funeral home,” she said.

“Well, it's not. It's an inn.”

Darren explained it was just past the nursery but before the Esso station and reservoir. She couldn't miss it. There was a short unpaved driveway on your left, maybe quarter of a klick, tops. They served dinner. She should go on, it was getting dark. After he'd checked on the loon, he'd be right along.

“Can you drive, Heather? I could leave my truck here.”

Heather assured him she was fine to drive. But as soon as she started the car, she wanted nothing more than to go home and get into a hot bath.

She was the one who had found the loon. She had already decided she was better than Darren at locating the carcasses. The bird, which she had thought was either a swan or a goose until Darren set her straight, was massive. It was lying in the sand with its neck and head fallen across its flattened back.

“Found one,” she had called to Darren, poking the thing with her boot. Its neck rose up and it stabbed her ankle and she leapt away.

Ten minutes later she drove past the entrance to the Pearly Everlasting Country Manor, braked and backed up. The name of the establishment was painted on a large elaborate sign, but it was partially hidden by alders. The driveway was not long, as
Darren had said, but the potholes were savage and Heather drove slowly. Just before a sprawling grey building surrounded on both sides by larch forest, the dirt gave way to gravel and a circular drive. Heather parked beside a jeep and got out and glanced behind her, hoping to see Darren's truck pull in. She approached the building. It was getting colder.

She was hesitating in front of a set of wooden doors at the front of the building, thinking it looked more like a terrible old orphanage than a place where you'd willingly pay money to eat and sleep, when the doors opened. A skinny woman wearing a red dress stood on the threshold. A paisley wrap, neatly folded lengthwise, hung over her shoulder as though over a clothes rack.

“Can I help you?”

“I'm looking for the Pearly something. An inn?”

“Pearly Everlasting Country Manor.”

“Yes.”

“This is it.”

Another woman appeared at the door. Heather noticed her dress first — black velour with a satin-trimmed neckline — then noticed the woman herself.

“Rosemarie?”

“Heather?”

“You two know each other?” the first woman said. “Come in, come in.”

The doors were fully opened and Heather entered a chilly entrance hall furnished with half a dozen derelict wicker chairs. Oddly, she and Rosemarie were embracing, as though they were old friends. Heather was immediately aware of Rosemarie's improvement.

“What a coincidence,” the first woman said.

“Heather, this is my sister Brenda. She and her husband run the Pearly.”

“What a coincidence,” Brenda repeated. “Rosemarie is just back for a very brief visit.”

Both women were staring at her. Though her coat was bulky,
Heather could no longer fasten more than the top few buttons because of her belly. She was conscious of her dirty pants and boots, not to mention the state of her hair now that she had removed her wool hat.

“So you've moved?” Heather asked.

“Alberta. I love it.”

“Why don't you come in?” Brenda asked. “It's awfully drafty out here.”

“Thank you. Actually I'm meant to meet a friend. ”

Brenda gave a short nod to her sister and turned, and the two women began to exit the room, their heels clicking over the tiled floor. As Heather followed them, she glanced back and saw clots of mud falling from the cleats of her boots.

At the far end of the room they climbed a short flight of steps and entered a dark bar decorated with the usual fishnets, lobster buoys, barometers and miniature ships. Heather, who was beginning to feel winded again, was introduced to Rob, Brenda's husband and apparently the bartender. Heather hoped Darren would arrive soon.

“What can Rob get you?” Rosemarie asked.

It seemed imperative she order something. “Ginger ale, please,” she said.

“Rob?”

Rob, who had been leaning against the bar chewing on a swizzle stick, reached up for a glass. He had a trim runner's body and thick silver hair.

“Actually,” Heather said. “I'm meant to meet a friend, Darren Foley. He should — ”

“Darren Foley, the biologist?” Brenda asked.

Heather nodded slowly.

“How is Darren?” Rosemarie asked her sister.

“But I can't imagine what's happened to him.”

“The same,” Brenda told her sister, and the two exchanged a look.

It occurred to Heather she could ask these women if Darren was married.

Rob was pointing to a drink on the counter. “That's yours,” he said to Heather. He sounded a bit testy.

“Thank you. Perhaps he's stopped to call his wife.”

“Who?”

“Darren.”

Rosemarie turned to Brenda. “Darren got married?”

“Darren did
not
get married,” Brenda said.

“That'll be the day,” Rob said. He was looking at Heather.

“Don't be so hard on him,” Rosemarie said to Rob. “Don't forget about Jeanette.”

“Poor Jeanette,” Brenda said.

“Poor
Darren
,” Rob corrected, glancing up at the ceiling.

“Jeanette?” Heather asked.

“His sister, of course. She's afraid to live alone.”

“Claims to be afraid of the dark,” Rob said.

“Can we change the subject?” Brenda asked.

With that Rosemarie and Rob became silent. Heather was aware of the three of them watching her. Presumably they were wondering why she had never heard of Jeanette, and whether Darren could possibly be involved with her present physical condition.

“I haven't known Darren long. We were — ”

“And he's never mentioned his sister?” Brenda asked.

“We were out birdwatching and he suggested — ”

“If I were you, I'd be wondering if he's mentioned
you
to Jeanette.”

“Rob!”

“Darren and I just met,” Heather said quickly. “We were birdwatching and he suggested we have dinner on our way back.”

“Here?” Brenda asked.

Heather nodded.

Brenda looked at Rob. “By the way, how many do we have tonight?”

“Not sure. Will Derrick come down?”

“I don't know if Derrick will come,” Brenda muttered.

“But will he sit down?”

“Rob, I have no more idea than you do if Derrick will sit down.” Brenda gave her husband a look that Heather was at a loss to interpret, then said to no one in particular, “Will you excuse me?” As she turned her wrap lifted off her back and hovered in mid-air behind her, as though fighting against all odds to keep up with her.

“She's mad now,” Rosemarie said, as though she hadn't been quite mad enough before.

“What are you doing in Alberta, Rosemarie?” Heather asked, knowing she had somehow upset these people, yet genuinely astonished by Rosemarie's transformation: the black dress, pearls, makeup. There remained a mild edginess about her, but she had gained weight and smiled without effort. Heather told herself she had done the right thing by Rosemarie, sending her back to her psychiatrist. Prescription drugs had their place.

Then she remembered Dr. Redcliffe's suggestion.

“We moved west for work. The pay is unbelievable.”

Had she overcome her counting routine? She wasn't eating at the moment, or drinking. She was doing nothing that could be easy to count. And how were those three children?

Rob reached an arm across the bar and asked Heather, “Can I get rid of that coat for you?” He sounded as though his intention was to take it outside and burn it. Heather was embarrassed, which was ridiculous. What was more ridiculous was that she was comparing herself to Rosemarie.