Flickering Hope (12 page)

L
oading up the ATV was easier said than done. We carefully drove it up a long ramp made for this purpose, but the tires kept slipping off. Finally, we managed to push it the last few inches, fold up the ramp so it fit in the truck bed, and slam the tail gate.

Vivian, usually a casual driver, took the snowy corners so fast I thought we might slide off the road. Still, I couldn’t keep my legs from bouncing nervously as we drove.
Please don’t let us be too late. Please, just this once, let something work out.
We roared up the research station driveway, maneuvered the ATV down off the
truck, and sped into the trees, using the tracks Dad and Helen had already plowed with their tire treads.

Vivian cut the engine when we came close enough to see smoke billowing out of the shack’s chimney. We approached
in a lower, quieter gear. I held my breath, listening for gunshots, until we reached the thick line of bushes, jumped down off the ATV, and shoved through. I almost sobbed with relief. Dad, Helen, Andrew, the Thompsons, and Jim all stood hands on hips, yelling. Jim couldn’t look that mad, I was sure, if he’d already shot Patch. But then Frankie’s words came back to me. Jim didn’t want to have witnesses. He might be just as mad to be caught after the shooting, maybe even more so.
Please let her still be okay. I can’t live with myself if she dies.

Andrew looked up and over at me. I knew then, because of his dry eyes, that Patch was still alive. But from his grim expression, I knew the danger wasn’t over yet. Vivian and I slipped and slid down the snowy embankment to join the group.

Jim looked up. “More trespassers, I see.”

“Jim, as far as I know, this isn’t your land yet,” Helen said, her voice sounding tired, as though she had repeated this statement many times already.

Jim raised his hands, as though he was the victim here. “Look, close enough. The land’s in escrow. Still, if you’re going to fuss over a dangerous bear, I’ll go through official channels. Call the DNR. Whatever. That bear’s a threat, and I want it off my land. As far as I’m concerned, that bear has earned her one-way ticket out of Owl Creek. I don’t care how it’s done.”

“But the DNR doesn’t kill bears during hibernation.” I couldn’t keep my mouth shut.

Dad shot me a warning look.

“No, sweetheart.” Jim’s voice dripped with sarcasm. “But they can certainly take her into captivity. Much easier now, while she’s hibernating, than in the spring when we’d have to find her first.”

“But that’s dangerous,” I said, turning to Helen. “Isn’t it? Didn’t you say that bears sometimes die when they come out of hibernation too soon? And what about her cubs?”

“Cubs?” the little girl, Roxy, whispered.

I hadn’t noticed her there, peeking out from behind her dad’s leg. Her huge eyes were round and dark with fear. There, clutching her dad’s leg, she looked even smaller than she had before. She hadn’t known. Of course she hadn’t— she was just a kid, maybe eight years old. Her parents talked about finding the bear as though the search was a treasure hunt. Roxy hadn’t understood that her dad planned to kill the bear. Still, no matter how small she looked, if Roxy hadn’t followed us, maybe none of this would have happened.

Dad crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes at Jim. “Call the DNR. Just make sure nothing happens to that bear in the meantime. Because I guarantee you, if she ends up with even a scratch, I will make sure the DNR removes your hunting license for good. That’s a promise.”

“And if you don’t get off my land with those ATV’s of yours,” Jim said. “I’ll call the police and have you all arrested for trespassing.”

Helen and Dad faced off with Jim for a few more moments and then turned to go. No one seemed to have
anything more to say. I hated to leave, knowing that Jim could go shoot Patch right now if he wanted to. I held on to the hope that Frankie was right, that losing his hunting license was enough of a threat. But Patch was obviously still in danger if Jim already owned this land. And how could he? How long did it take to buy land anyway?

As I turned to go, Roxy caught my hand, her grip sharp as always.

“You have to help the bears,” she whispered. “I didn’t know they would hurt them.”

“Kill them.” The words shot from my mouth like poison darts before I could stop them.

Roxy’s eyes filled with tears, and my lungs tightened with the pain of yet one more mistake to add to my collection.

“Leave my little girl alone,” Quinn Thompson said, taking her hand protectively as though she wasn’t the one grabbing onto me.

I stumbled away, not able to look at Vivian or Dad, not able to even look at Andrew or Helen. I buckled into the ATV and hid my face against my knees so no one could see the shame burning in my cheeks.

T
he moose head stared, his cold marble eyes offering no forgiveness to the shouting crowd who’d gathered at DNR headquarters for the meeting. The tension coiled tightly around me, wrapping dark fingers around my throat. Somehow, I had believed this was over, this anger, everyone fighting with everyone else.
Don’t be foolish, Sadie.

I had painted a mental picture of a perfect Owl Creek, the bears and hunters and Mom and Dad and me all safe and happy and okay. I knew all the time I held that picture that it was impossible. Mom would still be sick, Jim would still be a hunter, and people would still argue. But now, with anger thick like vicious scribbles across my naïve picture, I felt even more miserable than if I hadn’t hoped at all.

Beside me, Dad held Mom’s hand, looking anything
but relaxed. Mom had insisted on coming, even though we all knew she didn’t feel well. Helen sat on my other side, her muscles so tense she might spring from her seat at any minute. She’d offered to switch with me so I could sit by Andrew, but we’d both mumbled excuses and avoided one another’s eyes. Why make a terrible night worse?

Meredith’s ranger uniform was pressed as always. Still, her white-knuckled grip on the front podium gave away her frustration. She held up her hands yet again, and slowly, a sullen silence spread over the group as everyone found a seat.

Meredith cleared her throat. I’d never seen her nervous before, but then, Helen or Dad had always been the ones facing the angry crowd. Now Meredith had to stand up to them herself.

She gripped the podium again. “Originally, this meeting was called to discuss Helen’s research, but due to recent developments, Patch and her yearlings will be our topic of concern.”

Jim Paulson stood. “For the record, I want to point out the absurdity of discussing what I do with my own property.”

Mack Jefferson, who never seemed to leave Jim Paulson’s side, stood up next to him. “I’m tired of DNR giving more and more rules. Why can’t you just let us be?”

The room erupted into argument again, most in agreement with Jim, yelling at Meredith.

“Listen to me.” Holding up her hands was becoming a comically ineffective gesture. Meredith didn’t have the slightest
measure of control over this crowd. When theyfinally settled enough so she could be heard, she continued. “No one mentioned new rules. Bears are already a protected species. You can’t just remove four bears from hibernation, take them out of the wild, just because you want to.”

“No, because that would cost the state too much money.” Mack sat and crossed his arms, as though his case was closed.

“I’ve offered to dispose of them instead of sending them into state protection,” Jim said. “But Matthew Douglas assures me I’ll lose my hunting license for my trouble.”

Dispose of them. Jim Paulson made my skin crawl. How could he talk about the bears as though they were anything but beautiful, gentle creatures? Frankie sat on his other side, and I thought about her expression when she told me how much she loved her dad. Enough, I guess, to buy into his crazy ideas about bears being pests, disposable items.

“At this point in time, the DNR’s rules state that a bear that bluff charges is a category three bear, a bear who can, in fact, be removed from a community. Jim’s claim about Patch charging him last October puts her into that category. However, Patch is also a valuable research bear, and Helen’s research has begun to show that bluff charges may be just that: bluffs. The DNR seeks irrefutable proof that Patch is a category three bear, by more than one account, before they will take on the expense of removing her and the three yearlings from the wild.”

Mack jumped to his feet. “Well, let me count the ways. That bear has huffed and stamped and charged at me plenty of times.”

“I’m sorry.” Helen smiled tightly. “I’m afraid we’ll need more specifics than that. When, where, and what exactly happened?”

For the rest of the hour, people told stories of encounters with Patch, most friendly, a few more worrisome. Once, Mary Hanson found Patch in her garage. Cornered, Patch charged out the door and knocked Mary over, her claws leaving behind a wicked scratch down Mary’s arm.

“I don’t think she meant to hurt me, though,” Mary had insisted.

Still the damage was done. Between Mary’s account, Mack’s wild claims, and Jim’s story, Patch was deemed a dangerous bear.

“Do something, Dad,” I whispered to him. “Say something.”

But Helen took my hand in both of hers and leaned down to say to me, “Sadie, we can’t fight this official ruling. Arguing will only endanger my already shaky status as a scientist here. Your dad can’t interfere with this process no matter how much he wants to without taking sides. Both of our jobs are on the line, and the safety of all the bears.”

Andrew leaned forward and hissed. “Patch’s one shot was to stay hidden. And you gave her away.”

“Andrew!” Helen’s sharp reprimand didn’t keep the shame from rising into my throat, burning, driving the pain and anger deeper.

Yes. I had trusted Frankie even though everyone had warned me not to, and now Patch would pay for my mistake. Andrew’s stony expression made me want to shake him, shake him until he stopped blocking me out. Maybe I deserved his anger, and maybe I had made mistakes, but didn’t I feel badly enough? Wasn’t it enough that Patch and the yearlings would probably die? Did Andrew have to hate me, too?

I clenched my fists and tried to hear what Meredith was saying, but the words, distorted by my fury, didn’t connect fully. Something about Jim first bringing his signed land deed to the DNR, because removal during hibernation could only happen at the bequest of the landowner, and then something about tranquilizers and a zoo in Canada. So if Patch lived, she could look forward to life in the zoo, trapped, penned up. Still, I couldn’t help closing my eyes.
Just let her live, God. Please. Let the bears make it.

When I opened my eyes, I glanced over at Andrew. I don’t know what I expected, maybe that he had caught onto the shreds of hope that maybe after all Patch would live this through. Andrew’s face, though, was anything but hopeful. He scowled at Meredith, at Jim, and at Frankie, who was headed our way through the dispersing crowd of people.

I stood, hoping to disappear before Frankie passed our bench, but no such luck.

“Sadie,” she called from behind me as I pushed down the row as quickly as I could manage without actually shoving anyone out of my way.

I stiffened and knew she’d see the rise of my shoulders, known that I had heard her. Still, I didn’t care. Let Frankie think I was rude. She was a killer, and I didn’t want to be friends with a killer anyway.

A white haired woman stood up in front of me. “Oh, excuse me, dear.” She leaned over to pick up her purse, moving slower than I thought possible. I considered standing on the bench and leaping over the back into the next row when Frankie caught up with me.

“Sadie.” She pulled my shoulder so that I had no choice but to turn toward her. She shoved the box of ornaments into my arms. “I forgot to give you these. And Sadie, thank you for helping me. I just …”

Frankie’s eyes filled with tears, shocking me for a moment, and then making me furious all over again. It was too late for her to cry, to try to be my friend, when everything had already gone so wrong.

“Leave me alone.” I pulled away from her, thinking of everything I’d lost. Andrew. And now most likely Patch and the yearlings. And worse, I’d lost something bigger, something I couldn’t exactly describe. I’d lost the warm fullness inside me that made me feel sure that the next decision was right. Now all I felt was jagged, painful edges, like my insides had been turned to glass and then shattered.

“Sadie, I thought if I told Dad, he’d still give the Thompson’s the shack. But he isn’t. He’s throwing them out and—“

“And killing Patch too,” I said.

“But Sadie,” Frankie’s eyebrows pulled together in the middle, as though she genuinely didn’t understand. “Patch is just …”

“Just a bear?” I asked. “Why did I ever think I could trust you?”

As I strode away, my insides broke apart all over again. I hated what I’d said, but meant it all the same. If only I could shove everyone in this room, everyone who had debated over Patch’s life and stood by while an innocent, gentle bear— everyone knew she wouldn’t hurt anyone really—was sentenced to either death or life in a zoo. To my left, a man and woman discussed their grocery list for the week, and on my other side, someone talked about driving through the neighborhoods to see the Christmas lights. Christmas. As though anyone could think of that now.

Ruth stopped me on my way out, a small, sad look on her face. “Sadie, I’m so sorry.”

“I can’t talk, Ruth. If I talk …” but I couldn’t say more because tears already threatened.

I had to get out of this room, away from everyone, someplace where I could breathe. I turned toward the door, and that’s when I saw Mom start to fall.