The Eclipse of Moonbeam Dawson (14 page)

Michelle, now that we've gotten everything out in the open, what I would like to do on my day off is go off into the forest with you or perhaps you would like to see my apartment. I have some activities in mind that I'm sure you would find much more wonderful than hunting for bear, which I don't know anything about. (Actually I don't know a lot about these other activities either, but I'm sure I could get the hang of it.) So how 'bout it, Michelle? Shall we bag the bear hunt on Thursday and head straight for my apartment?

Chapter Nine

Reid was glad when Claude assigned him to dishwashing that night. He wouldn't have to worry about remembering the names of fancy food or dumping stuff on the guests. Washing dishes was so automatic, spray … swish … stack … spray … swish … stack, that he didn't even have to think about it. This was especially good since it gave him a chance to try and figure out something for getting out of the mess with Michelle.

Spray … swish … stack … spray … swish … stack. While the water steamed over the plates he made a mental list of what he thought his options were.

1.
Avoid her and then hide somewhere on the island until his day off was over.

2.
Tell her his gun was broken.

3.
Tell her his hand was messed up and wrap it up with a bunch of Band-Aids.

4.
Tell her he had the flu. She could stay in his apartment and take care of him.

But by the time he finished work that night, he still wasn't any farther along in making a plan than when he started. Discouraged, Reid said goodnight to Claude and left for his apartment. He just didn't feel like eating with the staff, and Claude said he could take his dinner with him.

Outside the kitchen, he leaned against the side of the building and ate the staff's dinner. Chicken curry. Yum. Claude had made it from the leftover herb-roasted chicken entree. The chilly night air felt great after so many hours of working in the steaming kitchen with the near-boiling spray of the water, and he decided to stay outside for a bit. The stars were brilliant in the clear black sky, and he could hear the sound of the masts clanging down below at the marina. Reid looked at the marina lights twinkling along the docks and all of a sudden he had his plan.

That's it! I don't have to actually
go
bear hunting. All I have to do is
pretend
to go bear hunting. It was so obvious. Why hadn't he thought of it before? Now, if only Harvey would still let him have that boat. Reid wolfed down the rest of the chicken curry, dropped his plate off in the kitchen, and ran down the path toward the marina. And now if only the boat's still there, Reid thought as he tore along the path. He said he'd be using the marina as a base, that'd he'd be in and out a lot.

All right! Luck was on his side. Reid spotted the old fishing boat right where it had been in the same slip! And even better than that, the skiff was there, too.

“Harvey!” Reid called as he ran alongside the boat. “Harvey, it's me!”

Harvey stuck his head out of the cabin. “You're sure in a hurry.”

“I've got to talk to you.”

“Come on board. Are you okay?” He held out his hand for Reid to grab as he jumped from the dock. “Careful, the light's not so great.”

“Thanks.” Reid jumped, ignoring the hand.

“We can talk in the cabin where it's warm.”

“Okay.” Reid ducked his head as he followed Harvey down the steps.

In the cabin, Harvey lit the stove, firing up a burner underneath the kettle. “Want some tea?”

“Sure, thanks.” Reid sat at the table.

“So, what's the problem?” Harvey leaned back against the stove, waiting for the water to boil.

“There's nothing wrong. I mean, everything's okay. It's just that I decided to take you up on your offer of the boat. I mean, if it's still offered.”

“Sure. The offer's still good.”

“Great. See, I need it Thursday on my day off.”

“There's plenty of gas so it's all ready to go.”

Reid looked out the cabin window, trying to get up the nerve to make his next request. “Well, there's something else. And, um, I'm not sure how to explain it, exactly.”

The kettle started to whistle. “Well,” Harvey said calmly, taking the kettle off the burner, “maybe just try starting at the beginning.”

“Okay.”

“Sugar?” Harvey poured the water over the tea bags.

“Two lumps. Thanks.”

He brought their tea to the table and sat across from Reid.

“See there's this girl I met here.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And we were just talking and then it just—”

Harvey stirred his tea. “Just talking and then what?”

“And now I'm taking her bear hunting.”

“Bear hunting.” Harvey sipped his tea. “With cameras I suppose, the way they take people out to photograph bears in Alaska.”

“No. Real hunting. And I can't back out.”

“Did she assume that you were a hunter?”

“Yeah, that was it. She starting making all these assumptions and I guess I just didn't get around to correcting her.”

“That can happen.” Harvey stroked his chin.

“And she thinks I'm taking her on my day off, and I didn't know how I was going to get out of it but then I thought maybe I could pull it off if I just pretended to go bear hunting.”

“So you'd drive the boat around and maybe get out on one of the islands.”

“Right.” Reid took a sip of tea. “I'd walk around with a gun like I was hunting and then just get back in the boat after a while and that would be it.”

“That should do it.”

“Although she did see a bear on an island near here when she was flying in on Sunday. She probably wants to go to that island.”

“If it's Hope Island, there's enough gas. It's just north of here.” Harvey opened the cupboard and took out a chart and spread it out on the table.

“I don't know what I'd do if a bear did come out of the bushes.”

“This is Hope.” Harvey pointed on the chart to a small island between Vargas and Stubbs, due north of Stere. “About ten kilometers north.”

“But what if we did see the bear?”

“That bear is more scared of you than you are of it. The bears on the uninhabited islands aren't like the ones near towns where they've learned about the dump. Where they associate people with food. On those little islands the bears are extremely shy.”

“You really think this would work?” Reid drummed the top of the table with his fingertips.

“I don't see why not. She probably wouldn't know the gun wasn't loaded. You can use my .303. I have to go back to my place tomorrow and I can bring it out here tomorrow night and put it under the tarp of the skiff for you.”

“You're sure it's no trouble?”

“No. Like I said, I'm going back tomorrow anyway.”

“Is the .303 the gun that's near the back door at your place?”

“Yes. It's the only one I've got.”

“You don't hunt, do you?”

“No. The only reason I got it was that last winter a cougar attacked a couple of my neighbors' dogs. One was killed and another one was messed up pretty bad. I wanted to be able to protect Gretta if one came around and I couldn't scare it away.”

“My mother is against guns, completely.”

“I agree with her in most cases. I never have understood people who get off on killing birds and animals, unless they need to eat.”

“She's even against killing for food.”

“I don't go that far, but if it weren't for that cougar I probably still wouldn't own a gun.”

Reid stood up. “Guess I better get some sleep.”

Harvey grabbed a set of keys from a hook next to the door. “Here you go.” He handed Reid the keys.

“Thanks.” Reid stuffed them in his pocket, then climbed out of the cabin.

Harvey followed him out on the deck. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thanks a lot.” Reid jumped onto the dock. “Thanks for everything. Oh, Harvey?”

“Yeah?”

“I don't think we need to tell Mum about this, do you?”

Harvey smiled. “I don't think it's really necessary.”

The guy's not so bad after all, Reid thought, tossing the keys up in the air and catching them. He opened the door to his apartment, flipped on the light, shut the door behind him, and went to the kitchen. There were a few Cokes in the refrigerator, and he grabbed one and took it to the bedroom.

Now that he had a bear hunting plan, Reid was filled with relief. He lay on his bed, drinking Coke and thinking about this bear hunting in great detail.

It's going to be so great. Michelle will stomp around at my side on that little island holding tightly to my free arm (the one that's not holding the gun) and after a little while it will get boring, because the shy bear won't get near us and then she'll want a little excitement and she'll think of some better stuff for us to do on that deserted little island out in the middle of nowhere. ALL RIGHT! YES!

Reid snapped off the light and tried to fall asleep thinking wonderful thoughts about him and Michelle on the island. But after a few minutes, he started to worry. He sat up in bed and put the light back on. What if Harvey was wrong? What if the bear wasn't shy at all and it attacked them and chased them back to the boat? (If it didn't catch them and rip them to shreds!) Then she'd see what a phony he was.

And he was phony, not only about that, but about Harvey, too. He'd been thinking all this rotten stuff about him, but then, when he's in desperate need of boat and a gun, all of a sudden, old Harv isn't so bad. Reid's brain felt scrambled. The boat and the gun couldn't change the fact that he didn't like the way the guy was all over his mother out on the dock the morning that Gloria left. Gloria! Oh, no. What if Gloria found out about this bear hunt? She'd really hate him.

Reid shut off the light and threw himself back on the bed. His brain felt fried. He closed his eyes and began counting sheep.

*   *   *

The next day, Reid went down to the marina as soon as he was through work. When he thought about it, he had to admit that it had been a little while since he had driven Rainbow's dad's boat on Sproat Lake. He thought driving a boat was probably just like riding a bike, the kind of thing you always remember how to do. But just to make sure, he decided it would be good to take Harvey's skiff for a spin. Better get a little practice. Then he'd have real experience handling the boat and there'd be one less thing to feel phony about.

As he walked down the steps to the marina, he looked over to the far end where Harvey's boat was moored. The biosphere project boat was gone! What if Harvey forgot to leave the skiff, or left the skiff but hadn't gone this morning to get the gun like he promised? What if he was a jerk after all? Someone who never came through and just told people what they wanted to hear. What if he'd told his mother and then she flipped out, and to get in good with her Harvey decided to forget the whole thing?

Reid got more and more worried as he ran the length of the dock. An enormous yacht had arrived and was moored in front of Harvey's slip, blocking everything from view. It must have come in late last night, or early this morning. Reid held his breath running past the yacht and didn't let it out until he was beyond its stern and saw Harvey's skiff. Whew! At least it was still there.

Carefully, he unhooked the tarp. Pulling it back, he climbed into the boat, then crouched by the steering wheel and stuck his head under the bow. An olive green tarp was folded in half, covering most of the deck under the bow. Reid lifted it up and peeked under the top fold. It was there! A man of his word, that Harvey. The dark brown handle of the .303 nestled in the folds of the tarp. Reid touched the handle, then ran his hand along the barrel.
Guns are for killing and killing is wrong!
He could hear his mother's voice as he touched the rifle and he suddenly felt like a criminal.

The evil of guns had been drummed into his head ever since he could remember and it was hard to feel relaxed about this whole thing. His mother treasured the fact that Canada, her adopted homeland, had a minuscule number of murders compared to the States, and she never lost an opportunity to use the States as an example of how things ran amok when people could easily get guns. Just looking at the gun spooked him. Even if it wasn't loaded. Even if it was just a fake bear hunt.

And it wasn't just guns. Abby Dawson was dead set against anything that even hinted at violence. If it hadn't been for that guy Gregory Thomas that she hung around with when they lived in Victoria, he wouldn't have even been allowed to play peewee hockey. Gregory Thomas told her that if young males were allowed to glide around on ice skates and bash each other with wooden sticks in an organized setting, they would see this as the proper way to discharge their aggression and would be more peaceful when they got to be adults. So she finally signed the peewee hockey permission slip in the interest of his growing up to be a peaceful adult.

Reid looked at the rifle as if it were a poisonous snake. He covered it up again with the tarp, reminding himself that the thing wasn't loaded and all he was going to do was carry it around a bit. Nothing deadly about that, he thought, as he slid into the seat in front of the steering wheel. He pulled the keys out of his pocket and slipped the key in the ignition. Oops. Got to pull out the choke. Almost forgot that. It's a good thing I'm having a practice run here, he thought as he put the gear in neutral, pulled out the choke, and turned the key. The engine caught right away. Reid let it idle in neutral as he pulled in the bumpers, uncleated the lines, and then pushed off from the dock. He put it in forward gear and gently pushed on the throttle, cautiously steering the skiff around the huge yacht. Big gold letters heralded its name across the stern,
Regina II.
And below that, in smaller letters, its home port,
VANCOUVER, B.C.
That's some big hunk of fiberglass; probably could belong to a queen, he thought, as he eased around it.