The River Burns (14 page)

“Thanks. Really. This is very sweet of you.”

He laughed, and then he said, “Whoops.”

“What?”

“I caught myself. I just about said, Get out of those clothes. Didn't mean it that way. I meant, Dry off.”

Her hand rested on the door latch. She wasn't sure if he was flirting now. That wouldn't be a sin but she gave him the benefit of the doubt anyway. “I'm Tara,” she said. She took her hand off the latch and extended it to him.

“Denny,” he said. They shook briefly, both their hands still wet.

“Thanks, Denny,” she said, and stepped out into the downpour and slammed the door behind her. Two steps and she was safely under a canopy.

Denny needed to take care turning around, his visibility minimal. He was pretty sure he had room but he couldn't see what cars were parked around him so he inched forward a couple of feet then crept back, turning each time he did it, and saw that she was watching him when his headlights caught her and when they did she finally turned to enter the inn. Denny was thinking that she wasn't at her best, looking like a drowned cat with those big eyes and her hair plastered against the side of her scalp under a ball cap that was soaked through, but her makeup hadn't run and that was a realization, for he suddenly understood why, because it meant that she was not wearing any. And yet, without makeup, the worst possible hair day, clothes soaked, she was probably as striking a woman as he'd ever met. A real look to her. High cheekbones. Those huge eyes. From what he could tell her skin was flawless. Plus, a big plus, she seemed nice. He stopped outside the inn's door, pointed downhill now, and gave two big blasts on his horn.

He waited.

Two more big honks.

First, she poked her head out. Then she came out under the canopy. He rolled his window down and over the loud rain hollered, “Are you single?”

“You're not,” she shouted back.

“But I have friends,” he said. And then he said, “I also have a brother.”

She looked at him. She made a faint motion with her chin, a slight squint under the peak of her cap, which he could not appraise.

“Actually, I have a really great brother.”

This time her lips cracked. Just. “Thanks for the lift, Denny.”

“You're welcome,” he said, smiled back at her, and drove down the hill into town to join the guys for a beer.

13

P
erpetually on the verge of calamity, the kids were up to their madcap ruckus, although for the moment the eldest appeared to be pouting for no discernible reason. No child, thankfully, was underfoot as the barbecue smoked in the breezy air, chicken breasts tweaking perfection. Valérie set the picnic table and put the salad out, covering the bowl with a clear wrap to ward off bees. She returned indoors for the wineglasses, having already opened the bottle. A Merlot. A signal.

Denny's day was decent, his time at home pleasant, and while he did feel trepidatious regarding the evening's public meeting, where he planned to speak on behalf of the loggers, he was also reminding himself that how things evolved fell out of his control.

Nothing remained to be done but to go to that damn meeting.

If blame or fault flowed from the discussion, if consequences ensued, that responsibility did not rest solely upon him. Not in the slightest.

What will be, will be, like in the old song—

Surely, if the powers that be failed to see the merit in a new, necessary, fast bridge, then did it not follow that the responsibility for whatever came along in the wake of that failure fell upon
them
, specifically? If someone, such as himself, took an action in response to their lack of action, if a crime was committed, who was really to blame? The people who did the deed, or the people who made the deed necessary? If he did something wrong because the authorities did nothing right, could he really be blamed for that?

Lifting the cover, he nudged a few chicken pieces, although they were fine if left untouched, browning nicely. He enjoyed the swift release of smoke as he closed the cover. Val came out and passed him a glass accompanied by a coy expression when, just as she returned to the picnic table to fetch the bottle, Denny's dad and brother Ryan came around the corner of the house into the backyard. Husband and wife nicked each other with a quick glance. Both knew why she selected a wine. A romantic addition to the meal was meant to preface an after-the-meeting, end-of-the-day, overdue carnal rendezvous. That was not in jeopardy, but Val conveyed her disappointment that their flirtation now lay in ruins.

“Grandpa! Uncle Ryan!” Valou squealed. Extricating herself from her trike, she ran to them.

“We have enough,” Val whispered, anticipating her husband's concern.

The boys enjoyed having Uncle Ryan around, even if he wasn't in uniform. He played their games with enthusiasm. While their dad was passionate about baseball, they were more likely to get into a game of pitch and catch with their uncle, and preferred playing with him anyway because their dad was always testing out a curveball or a knuckleball and throwing it in the dirt half the time or else he wanted them to really fire it in there and when they did with all their might he never seemed satisfied.

Valérie was making the best of the intrusion and gave the men a choice of wine colour, but both requested beer. She went inside and Denny noticed the light sashay of her hips and knew that her mood was going to take them deep into the night. First, the meeting. Then the aftermath. Finally, he'd be up half the night with Val. He only wished that her intensity might have arrived on a night when there was no town meeting, but suspected that she thought this through—by the time he got home the kids would be asleep.

“What brings you here?” he asked his brother. “Been a while.”

“That's why. It's been a while. How's it going?”

“Same old,” Denny attested. “You?”

“Pretty much,” Ryan said.

“Nothing exciting? Bank robberies? Jaywalking? Old ladies firing blanks?”

Alex O'Farrell peeled away to soak up his granddaughter's reports on her daily life, yet Denny still felt that his dad and brother were in cahoots. A vibe in the air. Somehow they were ganging up on him.

“Nothing serious,” Ryan said. Denny continued to nurse a grievance about his brother being a cop. Loggers of old possessed an air about them, as if they were their own authority, not to be intruded upon by a “civilian” population. They dispensed their own justice when they considered it necessary, and in the old days a logger pretty much had to kill somebody before police investigated. While he didn't feel the need for an ethic that primitive, Denny clung to a value system in which the police represented outsiders—people naturally disinterested in them, at best, and usually inclined against them. He did not understand how his brother could think any differently. “Speeding tickets to truckers, mostly. So far you've eluded me.”

“It's not because I slow down.”

“That I know. Someday I'll nab you.”

Val emerged with her guests' beer. “Chicken tonight. Don't argue. We have plenty.”

“Thanks, Val,” Ryan said. “I'm not going to turn down a home-cooked meal even if my brother is the one burning the chicken.”

Denny ignored the volley. “I was thinking about you today, Ry,” he said. “Bumped into this girl last night. A real looker.”

“You bumped into a real looker?” Val parried. “Define ‘bumped into.'”

“Define ‘real looker,'” Alex called out.

“Thought of you,” Denny reiterated to his brother.

“Never mind him,” their father chipped in, louder still. “He's in love.”

Val's interest took a seismic shift. “You've met someone? Ryan!”

Glaring at his dad, Ryan said, “No. I have not.”

“He hasn't met her yet,” Alex explained. “He's only set his sights on her.”

“Who?” Val asked.

Denny didn't know why or how, although he was inclined to call it intuition, but he guessed who'd caught Ryan's eye.

“A new girl in town,” Ryan let Val know. “Nothing's going on. Dad's just bugging me about it.”

“Does she work at Potpourri?” Denny asked.

“I've seen her around there, yeah.”

“How do you know who works at Potpourri?” Val wondered.

“He's smitten and doesn't even know the lady's name,” Alex teased.

“It's Tara,” Denny revealed.

“
You
know her name?” The third degree. “How come?”

“Val, come on,” Denny said. He couldn't avoid this conversation so the best tactic was to gain the upper hand. “Just because I make a point to talk to every gorgeous chick who walks into town doesn't mean you have to get your dander up.”

Wee Valou was listening and her mother chose to bring her into the conversation. “Valou, honey, say good-bye to your daddy because he's about to die young.”

“Why?”

“Because I'm going to kill him.”

“He's not so young,” Valou pointed out.

“Tara,” Ryan said. “Tara?” As though to himself.

“Willis Howard's new partner, apparently.”

“Really. What? Really?”

Denny checked out his brother, who seemed adrift. He agreed with his dad that Ryan was smitten. This was welcome news. “Chicken's done!” he proclaimed. “Kids, line up according to height. Shortest first. Grown-ups in the rear.”

Only after the meal did Ryan manage to catch his brother alone for a talk, and it wasn't about the new girl in town. Alex went back to spending time with the kids as if to remove them from the picture, which confirmed to Denny that he was in on this family conspiracy, whatever the conspiracy turned out to be.

“You're going to that meeting tonight,” Ryan stated.

So that was it. Those bloody rumours that swim around town, like silverfish sliding up drainpipes. Denny's back was up because, while his brother was not in uniform, he still owned a uniform. From the kitchen came sounds of Val dealing with the dishes and even though he did the cooking he felt guilty for not helping out with the washing up. Especially given that they were feeling amorous. “I hate meetings, but if that's what you've got to do, then I'll go to a meeting. I promised some people I would. Sometimes you have to make a sacrifice.”

“Don't get me wrong, Denny, I'm glad you're going. You should go. The loggers need to make their position known. You're the one to do it. You guys deserve a proper bridge. Let's hope something gets worked out.”

“Yeah, let's hope,” Denny concurred.

“You don't sound too hopeful,” Ryan noted.

Denny raised one shoulder only, then let it drop. “History,” he said. “We've hit our heads against the government wall before.”

“I just wouldn't want things to get out of hand,” Ryan put forward.

“Me neither. I mean, if McCracked pulls out her duelling pistols and starts blasting away, she could start a stampede. We could have a public riot. Blood on the streets even.”

Ryan returned a tight smile, which struck his brother as nervous.

“What's wrong?” Denny asked him.

“You might think it's funny what she did, but people broke into her house. She was scared half to death.”

“Yeah, I know. I don't feel good about that. I told her so. Kids, I suppose.”

“I suppose. Or loggers wanting to intimidate her.”

Denny was surprised. He hadn't made the connection but took it to be a possibility. He also knew that Ryan had personal reasons to come to her defence.

“I didn't hear anything like that, Ry. Not a word.”

The older brother nodded to show that he believed him. “Loggers'll be on hand tonight,” Ryan pointed out.

“Like me, they don't exactly race off to meetings. But yeah. A bunch of guys will show up. That's allowed.”

“So will the tree huggers.”

“It's only a meeting, Ry.”

“Denny.”

“A meeting. Define meeting—boring. Nothing's going to happen.”

“You know you can't say that, Denny.”

“Sure I can. I just did.”

“It's unpredictable. It's a volatile situation. Twice after meetings, I broke up brawls.”

“Brawls? Fistfights, Ryan. Some say you started one of them.”

“I hope you stuck up for me. Pointed out how ridiculous that is.”

“Yeah, I did, actually,” Denny conceded. “But sometimes I think if a couple of boys want to go at it, you should just let them go at it. Nobody says it's going to solve anything, but some guys might get it out of their system.”

“Thanks for the advice,” Ryan said in a flat and challenging tone. “That's exactly what I came here for.”

Denny backed down another step. “Okay, look,” he tried to convince him, “as far as I know everybody who's going to that meeting is going there to talk. Nobody has anything in mind. Not that I hear absolutely everything but I don't miss much.”

Ryan took the final swig of his beer. “Okay. But what about after that? If things don't go so well at the meeting, then what?”

Noticing his father watching him, Denny made eye contact, holding his gaze for a prolonged moment. “I don't plan that far ahead,” he said. “Anyway, I think I'm expected back at the ranch. Right here. That's what I'm counting on. But listen.”

“Yeah? What?”

“That new girl.”

“Tara.”

“I thought of you. Swear to God. I even told her I have a brother.”

“Oh shit.”

“What? I'm an embarrassment to you now?”

“I can meet girls on my own, Denny.”

“Since when? Ryan, you're a cop. You told me before, it gets in the way. You've had shit luck.”

“Quit it.”

“I'm just helping you out here.”

They exchanged a glance, which confirmed that Ryan was not really all that miffed.

■   ■   ■

Ryan O'Farrell was of two
minds coming away from the house. Wanting to be off on his own, he arranged for Denny to drive their father to the meeting. He'd pick Alex up later to get him home, given that Denny wanted time for a beer with his buddies afterwards. “No, we won't be beating the crap out of tree huggers.” His brother came across as calm. Ryan had no reason to believe that anything untoward sailed on the wind, contrary to the sentiment his father brought to his attention and Skootch as well. Maybe Skootch was just being a shit disturber again, keeping everybody jumpy while protecting his ball team from losing more players. As well, that girl, the one he saw walking, the one Denny called a looker but whom he considered mind-bogglingly gorgeous, the one who just wrecked him, not only was she still in town, but her name was Tara and he loved that name although he didn't think that he'd ever met a Tara before, and apparently her intention was to stay. That news stirred him up. Such good news. But a trifle scary, too. He tried to be as calm as Denny seemed to be about the meeting, and maybe he was pulling that off, but the report on her continuing presence created a roaring tumult inside him. Which is why he remained of two minds. He wondered if his brother possessed the same ability, to conceal what fomented inside him, to make it seem as though nothing was going on when really all hell was breaking loose.