DESTINATION, MYSTERY
PART TWO:
When Meg entered the pub about half an hour later, she saw what Claire had meant with ‘a madhouse’.
She had never seen it so crowded. She worked her way up to the bar and signaled Claire, who gave her a bright and relieved smile.
“I’m so happy you are here. I don’t know what to do with the boys. I have no time to mind them and
there’s nothing to do for them here.”
Meg looked around and saw the boys sitting in one of the booths, some magazines in front of them that
they weren’t reading and a bored look on their faces.
“What did John say?”
Claire grimaced. “I haven’t been able to reach him. He been called away to deal with some domestic
violence dispute and according to his deputy he can’t be reached. She did promise me that she would
have him call me as soon as he contacted her.”
“Oh, fuck!” Meg didn’t like it all. She looked at the boys again. They clearly weren’t happy here and looking
at Claire’s anxious face, she knew she couldn’t let her down.
“Okay, I will take them, but you have to promise me that you will explain to John. I don’t want him to walk
in expecting his babysitter and find me there.”
Claire smiled broadly. “You’re a life-saver. I promise I will clear it with John. And now I must get back to work. I owe you big time.”
Meg strolled over to the booth were the kids were sitting and took a seat opposite them.
“Hi, it seems that I’m your babysitter for today.”
Joey looked at her coolly. “We don’t need a babysitter.”
Meg had to laugh. “Oh, well, my mistake. But as it is, your dad has been called away and the girl who
normally looks after you is sick, so it seems you are stuck with me. So, I suggest I take you home and we can do something nice, anything better then just sitting here, don’t you think?”
The boys looked at each other and seemed to agree that everything was better than that.
“I forgot your name,” Joey said.
“It’s Meg.”
“Meg.”
“Yes, well actually its Margaret, but nobody calls me that. Everybody calls me Meg, except my father, he
used to call me Maggie.”
“Maggie.” Joey tasted her name. “I like Maggie better. We will call you Maggie.”
Once inside John’s house Meg felt like an intruder. From the Laura Ashley wallpaper in the kitchen to the little trinkets on the mantelpiece, this house was clearly decorated by the woman who’d left it behind. The whole house breathed wife and kids. It looked like John hadn’t changed a thing, the faded drawings on
the walls, made by his kids, were silent witnesses. It felt as if Donna could walk in any moment and take
off where she’d left things. Meg imagined John here alone, surrounded by these constant reminders of the family he’d lost, the thought suffocated her and she wondered how he coped. Thinking of his sleeping problems she figured not too well.
Meg spent the rest of the day playing with the kids. First they taught her to shoot at targets with a hockey
stick and puck and once inside again, they tirelessly pulled one game after another from the shelves. Meg found that she actually enjoyed playing with them.
Around dinnertime Meg explored the kitchen and found enough fresh ingredients to make pasta Prima
Vera and a fruit salad. While the sauce simmered on a low fire, she took the boys to the bathroom and ran them a bath. Joey collected their pajamas and so she ended up having dinner with two shining-clean little boys.
After dinner she made them brush their teeth and brought them to bed. It took four bedtime stories before they were satisfied and finally lay back, surrounded by their cuddly toys, with rosy cheeks and drowsy
eyes. When they asked for a cuddle and she felt their little arms around her neck, she knew she had fallen
in love with them.
“Okay, little monsters, now sleep. Sweet dreams.”
***
While Meg waited for John she watched some TV and tried to read a book, but couldn’t relax. She wished
she knew for sure that John didn’t mind her being here, and as the evening slowly progressed the uneasy feeling in her gut got stronger.
It was almost midnight when his car pulled up the drive. He walked in, his face drawn and white from exhaustion and as Meg saw his eyes grow wide with amazement at finding her here, she knew her fears
had become true.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” John growled at her.
Meg braced herself and looked at him steadily. “I’m looking after your children.”
His eyes narrowed. “I don’t need you to look after my kids.”
“Well, you sure as hell needed me to look after them today.”
He looked around. “Where are they?”
Meg was getting angry. Why did he have to be so nasty? “It’s near midnight. Where the hell do you think
they are?” She dared him. “Well, run along, go check on them. Heaven forbid they have been with a psychopath all day.”
As he strode out of the room, she walked into the kitchen, put on her coat and left.
John stood watching his sleeping sons. A throbbing headache started its way up from his neck. He closed
his eyes. Oh, Jesus! Why did he have to shout at her like that? He pictured her pale face, grey eyes huge
and dark. When he heard her engine start, he realized she was leaving and went after her, but she was already gone. He opened the fridge to get a beer and noticed the bowls with leftover pasta and fruit salad.
He grabbed the cold beer and let the bottle roll over his neck and forehead. He’d really fucked up this time.
A wretched feeling turned into a hard ball inside his stomach. Why, why, did he react so violently to her?
***
Meg woke up feeling horrible. She’d hardly slept. She had been too angry, angry at John for being so cruel, angry with Claire for not keeping her promise, angry at herself for letting this man get to her. She made a silent promise not to get involved with him again. He was not her problem. His kids were not her problem. Claire was not her problem. They could all go and fuck themselves. She had enough problems of her own.
She didn’t need this heart-broken man to trample all over her, hurting her with every opportunity he got.
No more.
***
John woke up when Joey and Jamie came into his bedroom and crawled into the bed. Sleep hadn’t come
until the early hours and he still had a flaming headache.
“Dad; where’s Maggie?” Joey asked him.
“Maggie?”
“Yeah; that’s what her father used to call her. Where is she?”
“She’s sweet,” Jamie said.
“She went to her own house. Why do you think she would still be here?”
“I don’t know,” Joey said. “Maybe because it would be nice.”
John closed his eyes to block out the memory of last night. In the mean time the boys were telling him all about their day with Meg and he learned how well she had taken care of them. He forced himself to get up
and face the day.
After a long hot shower that didn’t leave him feeling any better, he called Claire.
“Johnny! Jesus! I have been trying to get hold of you all day and night yesterday. I had a major problem finding a sitter for the boys until Meg agreed to help out.”
“Yeah, well, we had some problems with the Stevens family. It took us all day and most of the night to find
a place for the wife and children. It looks like she’s finally had enough and left him.”
“I hope you weren’t too surprised to find Meg in your house, she was really worried about staying with the boys without you knowing. She made me promise to tell you before you got home.”
John stayed awfully quiet.
“John?”
He cleared his throat. “Well…I’m afraid I was quite taken aback when I found her here.”
“But you were nice to her, weren’t you…Johnny?”
“Not exactly.”
“Oh, shit! How could you! She was so afraid you would mind, and I convinced her that everything would
be okay. What the fuck is wrong with you? Why do you have to be such a beast to her, this isn’t like you at
all.”
“I don’t know. It’s just that every time I meet her, I’m all screwed up. And I fucked up good this time; I
don’t think she will ever speak to me again.”
“Oh, Christ, John! I don’t understand you at all these days. Here you have a lovely girl, who obviously likes you, who has enough problems of her own and you treat her like shit. I’m so angry with you; I could hit
you. It’s time you get your act together.”
He heard her utter a couple of curses under her breath.
“Oh, well. I’m going to call her right away.” And she hung up on him.
***
Meg never got Claire’s call that day, as she had left the house and took the car for a drive. After a few hours she ended up in the town of Fairbanks, one of the larger towns around Mystery. She went of a shopping
spree in an ineffective attempt to lift her spirits. Even though she knew she would probably never wear the clothes in Mystery, she bought a complete new wardrobe, from sexy lingerie to a dress and shoes. She went to the hairdressers and when she ran across a beauty parlor, she went in and took the full treatment.
Because it had turned quite late, she decided not to return to Mystery but to stay overnight. She walked
into the first hotel she encountered and took the most expensive room. After a good soak in the hot tub,
she changed into her new lingerie and dress and went down to have dinner. When she entered the
restaurant every male had his eyes on her and finally after months of being dressed in jeans and sweaters,
she felt like a woman again.
She ordered champagne and the best from the menu and slowly as the alcohol and food soothed her
nerves, she began to feel a little better. She ignored the looks and didn’t socialize. After dinner she went straight back to her room where she took a brandy from the mini bar. Lying in the huge double bed, the loneliness hit her hard and she cried herself to sleep.
Meg stayed in Fairbanks for a week, through Christmas and New Year. She made one call to Paul and
Helen, explaining that she was somewhere else for a while, reassuring them that everything was okay.
She went to the movies and visited the local museums; she bought new books and CD’s. Fairbanks was a
far cry from New York, but it was a city and even though Meg was excruciatingly lonely, she felt like a city
girl again and reveled in it. But the main reason she stayed was that she couldn’t face going back to
Mystery again.
***
When she finally did return, she made her first stop at the post office and emptied her mailbox. There
were two more anonymous letters. She didn’t open them. Their contents didn’t hold any surprises. She
put them in her coat pocket and crossed the road to Claire’s Pub.
Claire was so relieved to see Meg that she walked around the bar and hugged her tight.
“Meg! Thank God! We have been so worried. Where have you been? Why didn’t you let me know where
you were?”
“I needed some time for me. When I left I didn’t have a plan, but I ended up in Fairbanks and I liked it, so
I just stayed for the holidays. I couldn’t have faced them here.”
Claire observed the younger woman thoughtfully. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry about what happened with you and John. He hurt you terribly, didn’t he?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Meg’s face was reserved. “I’m done with him. I made the mistake liking him,
but no more.”
Claire shook her head. “He will be so relieved to hear you are back and okay. He’s been feeling so wretched,
so worried about you.”
“I can’t imagine why. Anyway, that’s his problem.”
“Oh, honey, you can’t stop these things, you know. No matter how hard you try.”
“I can and I have. Now change the subject.”
“Okay, tell me what you’ve been doing these past two weeks.”
Meg told her and slowly as they talked some of their old ease came back. Claire felt that Meg had changed,
she was more reserved. Her eyes didn’t sparkle with the same friendliness as before, she had tight lines in
her face and her mouth wasn’t as ready to laugh.
When Meg said her good-byes and left, Claire watched her go and slowly shook her head. Something was definitely broken in that girl and she wondered how long it would take before she would pack her bags
and return to New York.
***
Returning to New York had been on Meg’s mind too. Why stay in Mystery? Why not go home and finish
the book there. She would have Paul and Helen around; she would have her city back with all the treats
she used to love so much. But somehow it felt like defeat to leave now, like she was running away and she didn’t want to do that. She would stay and make the best of it.
After returning to the lodge the first thing she did was place a call to Harry Stanton, the PI that worked for her, explaining she wanted to change tactics.
“I want you to go after Andrew Barker.”
“Anderson’s brother, the journalist?” Harry asked.
“Yes. I want you to find the people he spoke to for the article and confront them with the way their
statements were used by him. I’m sure you will find most will have another story to tell.”
“Do you want me to stop following the Andersons?”
“No.”
“That means extra man-hours, but I have just the right woman for the new job.”
“That’s fine with me, money is no problem.”
“You realize that if you go after the journalist, and use it, it may scare Mrs. Anderson off?”
“I do, but I can’t wait and do nothing anymore. I want to prove that he nailed me on purpose to turn the attention away from his sister-in-law. I want every scrap of dirt you can find on him. I want the piece he
wrote tore down word by word and I want it to happen with as much publicity as possible.”
“What happened? You sound positively pissed off.”
Meg sighed deeply. “I am. I’m tired of having people look at me with suspicion, I’m tired of being treated
like the bad guy and most of all I’m tired of hiding. I just want my life back.”
***
As time passed Meg experienced an increasing feeling of being watched. She started closing the curtains before she turned the lights on and made sure the doors were locked. She was sure that she heard things outside. At first she thought that it might have been animals, maybe a bear that had come out of
hibernation too early and was looking for food, or maybe a wolf. But slowly the uneasy feeling of someone following her movements crept upon her.
She considered calling the police, but that would mean talking to John and she wanted to avoid that at
any price. She hadn’t been back to town since her return two weeks ago and he hadn’t called. After Claire
had told her how wretched and worried he’d been, Meg half-expected him to call, but he never did. Part
of her was relieved, but deep down in her heart she was disappointed, though she wouldn’t admit to it.
Anyway, even if she would contact the police, what would she tell them? Besides the few anonymous
letters nothing had happened. Maybe she was just being paranoid.
One late afternoon, Meg sat behind her desk and was just about to turn on the lights and close the
curtains when a projectile flew through the window and crashed on her desk. Its glass scattered to bits.
With the glass, drops of fluid landed on her skin and face and when her eyes started to burn, a panic hit
her hard. Wild thoughts on acid disfiguring her entered her mind and she sat very still, not daring to
move, not daring to lift her hands to her face and feel. After what seemed an eternity, she realized that
only her eyes were burning, not her skin and she calmed down a bit. She opened her eyes and looked at
her arms and hands; they were covered with glass splinters and tiny drops of fluid, but looked and felt
okay. She sniffed; it smelled like gasoline. When she realized what it had been, she got up and washed
her face and hands and called the police.
Meg needn’t have feared about meeting John, he didn’t come. Deputy Betty Fisher did. She took one look
at Meg’s distraught face and burning red eyes and went straight into the kitchen to make coffee. When
she was done she brought a cup over to Meg and said, “Get this into you first, you look like you could pass
out any minute.”
Meg’s hands were shaking so violently, that she had to hold the cup with both hands not to spill the coffee. They drank in silence and when Meg put the cup down, Betty came to business.
“So, tell me what happened.”
Meg gestured at the mess on her desk. “I was sitting there, writing, when something came through the
window and crashed on my desk.”
Betty walked up to desk and examined the glass and sniffed at the pieces. “Smells like gasoline.”
Meg nodded. “That’s what I thought.”
“Looks like a Molotov cocktail, only it wasn’t lighted.” She looked at Meg doubtful. “Why would anyone
want to throw a Molotov cocktail at you?”
“I guess someone is trying to scare me off.”
“Why?”
“I have been getting these letters, anonymous ones. Someone doesn’t like me being here.”
Betty looked at her with surprise. “You still have them?”
Meg walked over to her desk, opened one of the drawers and got a big envelope out.
“Here. I only opened the first two.”
Betty took the envelope from her and looked inside.
“There’re quite a few in here, why didn’t you read them?”
“Because I know what’s in them. I got letters like this before, in New York, and phone calls. I just didn’t
feel like reading them.”
“Why didn’t you report these sooner?”
Meg took a deep breath. “When I showed the ones in New York to the police, they sort of insinuated I’d
written them myself. I guess I just didn’t want to go through that hassle again. Anyway, there wasn’t
much they could do about it and after a while the letters stopped coming. I thought that as long as it was
just the letters, I would ignore it and maybe they would stop too.”
“But they didn’t.”
“No.”
“Okay. Is there anything else; anything that seemed out of the ordinary.”
Meg hesitated. Betty noticed. “Tell me, everything can help.”
“Well, it’s just that lately I’ve felt like someone was watching me.”
“You didn’t report that either.”
“No. It was just a feeling. I would hear noises outside, or just have the hairs in my neck stand out. How
do you explain a feeling? I thought I was going paranoid.”
“Well, it looks like you weren’t.”
Betty collected the pieces of broken bottle and put them in a bag. She looked through the broken window
to evaluate from where the bottle had been thrown.
“I’m afraid I’ve parked my car on the spot, I don’t think I will find anything useful out there.” She turned
to Meg. “Are you okay? Maybe you should think about living in town for a while. It’s pretty solitary here.”
Meg shook her head. “No. I’m not letting anyone scare me away. Anyway, what’s a while? I’ll be fine. It’s
just that this freaked me out. I realize that there probably isn’t that much you can do about this, but just
the idea that you are aware of it, makes me feel better.”
“Okay. I will write a report and I will need you to come to the station to make a statement. Within a few
days will be fine.” She looked at the broken window. “Better have that fixed, it’s freezing in here.”
“Yes, I will call Jack Bender tomorrow. I’ll just nail it shut for tonight.”
Betty collected her things and turned to Meg. “Are you sure you are alright? I could drive you to town, I’m sure you could stay with Claire for tonight. You shouldn’t be alone right now.”
Meg knew she was right. The thought of being here alone tonight didn’t appeal to her at all. “Okay. If you
have a minute, just let me pack some stuff and call Claire.”
It was a short call; she didn’t go into detail, just asked Claire if it was all right if she came over and stayed
the night.
***
When they arrived in town, Betty dropped Meg off at the pub. Claire had already closed up and was
waiting for Meg, a worried look on her face.
“Was that Betty Fisher dropping you off? Jesus! What happened to you? You look awful!
Meg started to explain but halfway through she choked and once the tears started coming, she couldn’t
stop them. Claire hugged her close, holding and rocking her as if she was a child.
“Okay. Let’s go home first. We’ll make ourselves comfortable and then you can tell me all about it.”
At Claire’s house, after two brandies and telling Claire everything, Meg felt completely drained. She let
Claire put her to bed and once her head hit the pillow she was out cold.
The next morning Claire called in an extra employee for the pub and explained that she wouldn’t be in
that day. She checked on the sleeping Meg and left the house, crossed the road and made for the police station.
John’s bronco was parked outside and Claire entered the station, greeted Deputy Fisher and walked
straight into John’s office, closing the door behind her. John looked up and the smile on his face turned
into a frown when he saw Claire’s angry face.
“Claire.”
“You heard?”
“Yes, Betty told me.”
“I want to know what you are going to do about it.”
“Sit down, will you?”
“No. I’m too fucking angry to sit down.”
“Sit down and have some coffee. I can’t talk to you when you’re pacing around like that.”
Claire took a deep breath, took off her coat and sat down. John poured them some coffee.
“Now, what do you expect me to do about it? You know I can’t guard her twenty-four hours a day. And
I’m not even sure there’s ground for panic.”
“What are you saying? That you don’t believe she’s being threatened?” Claire almost exploded.
“Calm down. I believe the letters are real and I believe someone is trying to scare her. Betty told me how shattered she was from the experience. We have no reason to believe she’s faking it.”
“Faking it? Goddamn you, John! You should have seen her yesterday. Why didn’t you? Why didn’t you go yourself instead of cowardly sending your deputy?”
He narrowed his eyes at her remark and controlled his temper; he didn’t want to fight Claire. “I wasn’t
here when she called. Betty took the call and followed up, as simple as that.” He sighed. “Claire…I hate
this as much as you do, but the point is, if Meg chooses to stay at the lodge, I can’t protect her. I don’t
have the manpower to keep an eye on the place and you know it. And we really don’t know how serious
this threat is. It could all end here. I will examine the letters and I will keep my eyes and ears open. This
is a small community, maybe someone knows who this prankster is. I’m not ignoring it, there just isn’t
that much I can do.”
Claire backed down. “Oh…I know… So what you are saying is that she should stay in town? I will try to persuade her, but she’s pretty headstrong. She made it clear that she won’t be scared away.” She sipped
her coffee. “Did you talk to her at all since she got back?”
He didn’t return her steady gaze but looked away, out of the window. “No, I didn’t.”
“Why not, Johnny; you owe her an apology at least?”
He gave her a wry smile. “Maybe I’m just a coward.”
Claire felt the anger surge through her. “Maybe you just like to wallow in your own misery. Staying in that fucking shrine you call a house, hanging on to everything you’ve lost. Maybe you are just too stupid to recognize a good thing when it hits you in the face.” She got up. “I do wish I were a man sometimes. I
would love to kick some sense into you.”
With the echo of the door slamming shut behind her still in his ears, John sat and looked out the window without seeing.
When Meg had left Mystery and stayed away, he’d been miserable; knowing too well what had made her
run. He’d been worried too, wondering where she’d gone. He’d been immensely relieved to hear of her
return. Unmentionable times during the past two weeks he’d wanted to tell her how sorry he was, wanted
to ask her to forgive him, but each time some weak excuse came up and as time passed, he knew he’d left
it too long. And now it seemed impossible.
John had tried to evaluate his reaction to the truth about her identity. He had felt betrayed and it made
him angry, and knowing in his heart that it wasn’t a fair reaction he had wanted to punish her. But after
he’d been deliberately cruel to her and her eyes had turned dark with hurt, it only made him feel more depressed.
She was the first woman he’d been attracted to since Donna and it scared him. He had no intention to
loose his heart to a woman who was just passing through. She wouldn’t stay in Mystery; life in this part
of the world was hard enough to the women who were used to it. One day she would pack her bags and
return to New York, he was sure of it. Better to nip any romantic notions in the bud, safer anyway. Maybe Claire was right. What had she said to him? Living in a fucking shrine? Wallowing in his misery? Harsh
words from his best friend. Harsh words he probably deserved.
Frustrated he returned to the files on his desk, trying to brush the nagging thoughts that had bothered
him for weeks, without much success.
***
Back at the house, Claire found that Meg was awake and already bathed and dressed. She looked much
better. There were still some dark patches under her eyes, but there was also determination in her face
and Claire feared that plan to try and persuade Meg to stay in town was doomed to fail.
She was right. Meg wouldn’t hear of it.
“I know what you are trying to do, and I love you for it, but I can’t let this gutless bastard get the better of
me. If I bail out now, I will never be able to return to the lodge. I won’t let fear rule my life.”
“But you could stay for a while. I have a house I rent to tourists some times, its right next door, and you
could use that. It will be fun having you around. I could show you the ropes around the pub and we
could work together. I’d take you to the Saturday game. I would love having you around. Just for a little
while, maybe until John finds whoever did this to you. John said that he would examine the letters and
ask around. He’s right about this being a small community, maybe someone will talk.”
“You saw John?”
“Yes. I went to the station and talked to him.”
“I’m surprised he sees ground to act at all,” Meg sneered. “Are you saying he believes me?”
Claire looked at her with weary eyes. “Don’t do this, honey. I know he’s hurting as much as you are.”
“I’m not hurting.”
Claire sighed and went about to make breakfast. How in the world was she going to get these two strong-
willed and stupid young people to see the error of their ways? She felt tired and old all of a sudden.
After breakfast Meg walked over to Bender’s place and he agreed to come round later that day and fix
her window. When she got back she wanted to call a cab, but Claire stopped her. “Don’t be silly, I’ll drive
you back.”
Because she had a day off, Claire stayed at the lodge with Meg. They enjoyed dinner together and before
Claire left to go home she made Meg promise to call her every night.
“I know this may sound silly, but I really want you to promise me. I will rest so much easier knowing
you’re safe. And remember if you don’t call, I will summon the cavalry, so please don’t forget.”
Meg promised.
***
Later that week Meg went to the police station to give her statement. She was nervous. She wasn’t sure
John would be there, but the chance of seeing him again was enough to tie a nauseating knot in her
stomach. It angered her, she was determined not to let him upset her but somehow her body didn’t seem
to take any notice of her mind.
He wasn’t there. The station was empty but for Betty Fisher, who took her apart into a little office and
let Meg read the report she’d written. When Meg agreed with it contents Betty made her sign it. After that Betty typed up Meg’s statement and made her sign that too.
“I understand you went back to the lodge?” Betty said.
“Yes. It’s my home for now and I just can’t let anybody scare me out of my home.”
Betty nodded. “I understand, but it would make a lot of people happier if you would stay in town.”
“Yes, I know.”
“Okay. Take care.”
“Thanks.”
Meg left the station and was about to cross the road when John pulled up in his bronco and parked next
to her. It had been over three weeks since she’d last seen him and her heart started racing like mad. He
got out of the car and walked around.
“Hi.”
Meg didn’t trust her voice and just nodded.
John seemed just as ill at ease as she was and his smile reflected his awkwardness. “You have been inside
to give your statement?”
The ‘yes’ she managed to squeeze out sounded hoarse.
“Good.”
She couldn’t look in him and fixed her gaze somewhere on his collar. He didn’t speak and as her chest tightened she said, “Well…guess I will see you around.”
“Yes.”
He followed her with his eyes; defeated by his inability to talk to her, feeling that a simple ‘I’m sorry’
wouldn’t cut it.
***
Even though it was the middle of winter, Meg had turned the lodge upside down in a huge cleaning
frenzy. She was so shaken up by her meeting with John, that she found nothing could settle her nerves. Writing was out of the question. Frustrated and angry at her reaction to seeing him, she turned to hard physical labor. With the volume of her CD player turned to the max, she methodically emptied room by
room. After scrubbing the floors, she hoisted the furniture back in. The windows were cleaned, the
curtains washed, the bed covers aired on the porch.
When Meg finally found nothing left to do, she grabbed her parka and went outside. She took a long walk
past the lake and on the way back she rested at her favorite spot, a fallen down tree stump that made a
perfect bench to sit on and watch over the lake. She loved this spot. Loved the immense emptiness of the
lake, loved the huge sky. She could breathe here.
Meg tried to ban John out of her mind, but as she closed her eyes she envisioned his cautious smile, the
way his long chestnut hair curled on his collar, the sad and weary lines in his face. She realized that all
her efforts to forget him had been fruitless. She was in love with him and wanted nothing more than to
feel his strong arms around her, wanted to feel his warm breath on her face, wanted to pull her hands through his hair. Not aware of her surroundings anymore, she dreamed the day away.
When Meg realized it was getting dark, she made her way back to the cabin. When she approached the
dark house a sick, queer feeling settled in her belly. Sudden fear formed cold sweat on her upper lip. She stopped and listened…nothing. She willed her panic down; told herself she was imagining things and
slowly proceeded towards the porch. Before she reached the first step an excruciating pain shot through
her head and everything turned black.
***
John was just about to leave the station and go home, when the phone rang.
“Biebe…”
“Johnny.” Claire’s voice, distraught: “Johnny, she hasn’t called.”
“What do you mean? Who hasn’t called?”
“Meg. She hasn’t called. We have a deal, she calls me every night at eight to say everything is okay and
tonight she hasn’t called. Something is wrong, I just know it. You have to come over and check on her.
Pick me up, we go together.”
“Jesus, Claire, slow down. Maybe she just forgot to call you.”
“No. She has called every night, till now. She promised. She would never forget. I just know something is
not right. You have to come or I will go alone.”
“No. It’s okay. I’ll come and pick you up right away.”
Claire was already standing outside, waiting for him. Her agitation made him nervous and halfway up
the mountain towards the lodge; her fear had infested him. When he took the last curve in the road, he noticed a strange light in the sky. It was an orange glow, like the first streak on sunrise.
Claire noticed it too. “That’s strange, where does that light come from?”
“It’s the lodge.” He drove fast and faster toward the red sky that should have been black.
He parked the car as close to the cabin as he could and they both jumped out. The cabin was blazing with
fire; the snow around it covered in black ashes. John thought his heart would leap out of his chest, his
breath was coming in painful rasps and his eyes were wildly searching the grounds.
“There!” Claire shouted. In the red glow they could just make out a dark shade. John ran.
Meg was lying face down in the snow a couple of yards from the porch. The bloody trail in the snow
indicated that she probably tried to crawl away from the lodge before she lost consciousness. Very
carefully John turned her around. Claire gasped when she saw Meg’s deadly pale face. From a large cut
on her forehead blood trickled down in her eyes. John cautiously pressed his fingers against her throat searching for a heartbeat. When he felt its faint but regular beat, he let out a deep sigh. “She’s alive.”
He turned to Claire, who looked as if she could pass out any minute. “Claire! Go to the car and get the
survival kit from the booth. Go!” He took off his parka and carefully draped it over Meg’s body. She felt
so cold. He grabbed his radio and called for assistance.
In a daze they waited for the ambulance to arrive. They had wrapped Meg in thermo blankets from the survival kit. John stared at the burning lodge, realizing that without the heat from its roaring fire, Meg
would have died before they reached her. Looking down at her immobile shape, he silently willed her to
hang in there, to please hang in there.
***
Three days Meg floated in a state of semi-unconsciousness. The doctor had explained to John that she
had suffered a severe blow to the head and that her face injuries were probably caused when she’d
crashed down. She had multiple concussions all over her body, most likely inflicted when her attacker
kicked her. She had two cracked ribs and her right ankle was broken.
The sheer brutality of the attack left John so angry that he threw himself into work, driving everyone in
the station up the wall. He’d ordered the examination of the crime scene and instructed all his officers
to do everything possible to find the bastard. He issued statements for special police-bulletins on the local radio and television.
At every possible opportunity he checked in on Meg and while he watched her battered face, he felt inadequate and guilty.
***
Meg tried to open her eyes and found that she couldn’t open her right eye. She slowly moved her hand towards her face, wanting to feel what was wrong. A woman’s voice said, “Don’t do that. Your face is
bruised and swollen, but I promise you it will be all right.”
She cautiously turned her head a little to the left so she could see who was there and found a nurse
sitting next to her bed. The nurse said: “Hi, I’m Sarah Hines, are you in pain?”
“No, just thirsty.”
Meg’s voice wasn’t more then a cracked whisper. She tried to smile, but because of the stiffness and
bruises, she only managed to lift one corner of her mouth. Sarah raised the bed head and helped Meg
to drink a little.
“Do you remember anything of what happened?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to tell you?”
Meg managed a slight nod.
“You were attacked. From what we’ve been able to reconstruct he first hit you on the head. In falling
down you’ve hurt your face. It looks bad, but Doc Savage assured me that there will be no traces left once you’ve healed. Your body is badly bruised; you have two broken ribs and a fractured ankle. We think he kicked you. After he attacked you, he set fire to the lodge. Ironically that saved your life. Without the heat from the fire you might have died from hyperthermia.”
Meg tried to take it all in, but her head was swimming and she closed her eye, drifting off again.
***
After two weeks of close observation, Doc Savage was satisfied that the trauma to Meg’s head wouldn’t
leave any permanent damage and he came in to talk to her about leaving the hospital.
“I’m quite happy with your progress and as far as I’m concerned you may leave. The only question is;
where do you go?”
Claire had offered Meg two options; she could either stay in Claire’s house or she could move into the
house Claire rented to tourists sometimes. It would be nice to stay with Claire, but she had a business to
run, and Meg feared that looking after a patient would put too much stress on her friend. Furthermore,
Meg was very attached to her privacy, being a guest in other people’s homes for a longer period of time
had never appealed to her.
“I thought I would take Claire up on her offer and move into her holiday home. The problem is that I will
need someone to help me, preferably a nurse. Do you know of anyone?”
“Yes, I do. Heather Bender, Jack’s daughter in law, she used to be one of my nurses, but quit her job after
she got married. She would love to put in a few hours a day.”
“A few hours a day is all I need. I wouldn’t want anyone around full-time, that would drive up the wall.
How long do you think it will take before I can move around again?”
“I want you to take it really slow for at least two weeks. You don’t have to stay in bed all the time, but I
don’t want you to overdo it. You know the drill, listen to your body. When you’re tired, sleep. When it
hurts; rest. You can’t stand on the cast for another week; keep the leg up as much as you can. I will be
around at least twice a week to check up on you and you can call me anytime.” He smiled at her
cheerfully. “Now, do you want me to contact Heather for you?”
She smiled her crooked smile. “Yes. And thank you.”
He patted her knee. “You’re welcome.”
Meg picked up the phone and called Claire. She transferred what the doctor had told her and explained
her decision to opt for Claire’s extra house. Claire laughed and said that she had expected that, she already had her cleaning lady go through the house to make it ready for Meg.
“When did he say you could leave?”
“I can leave when I want. It’s up to you, when ever you are able to pick me up.”
“I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
With the help of Claire and her crutches, Meg managed to hop from the bed into a wheelchair, but once outside Claire found it impossible to push the chair through the snow. She tried pulling it, but wasn’t
making any progress. Despite her pain Meg had to laugh. “Oh, look at us, we’re fucking helpless.”
“What we need is a pair of strong arms,”
Meg knew what Claire was up before she even moved. “Don’t you dare…”
“What?” said Claire innocently; “You want to sit here all day?” And off she walked towards the police
station.
When Claire returned with John, Meg was already halfway across the road on one foot and two crutches.
She silently cursed Claire for so blatantly trying to push her and John together, while she knew how
uneasy they were in each other’s company. No way was she going to let John carry her across the street,
no matter what that damned woman might be plotting.
Claire hurried after her. “Jesus, Meg! What are you thinking?”
Meg looked back at her angrily. “No. What were you thinking? I’m perfectly capable of getting home on my own accord.” At that moment one of the crutches started sliding in the snow and she would have fallen if John hadn’t grabbed her and picked her up.
“Oof!” Meg grimaced painfully. He changed the way he held her by sliding one arm under her bum and
lifting her as a child.
“Better?” She nodded.
“Hold on.” Reluctantly she put her arms around his neck. He carefully carried her to the house and said, “Anyone ever told you what a stubborn little fool you are?” Meg lifted her chin and wanted to say
something sharp, but she bit her tongue and kept quiet.
To have John’s strong arms around her, his face so close to hers, left her in emotional disarray. While
part of her wanted to kick him, her fingers were itching to move up his neck and run through his long
hair. His faint scent of sandalwood mixed with citrus and plain masculinity made her slightly dizzy and
the spot on his chin she’d fixed her eyes on, just cried out to be kissed.
When Claire opened the front door, Meg said to John, “you can put me down now,” but he carried her
straight into the bedroom and gently lowered her on the comfortable double bed. Meg struggled to get
out of her coat and he took it from her.
“Thanks,” she said looking up at him and when his eyes met hers, something in their expression tore at
her soul, something shy, passionate and sorrowful. She was drawn to it as if pulled by invisible ropes and
felt like she was drowning. Claire walked in and the moment was gone. John cleared his throat and murmured he’d had to get back to work, ignoring Claire’s offer for coffee.
When he’d gone, Meg looked around the room. It was a cozy room with wood-paneled walls and big
windows looking out over the snow-covered garden. The fireplace was burning and at the foot-end of the
bed, Claire had placed a table with a large TV.
“Oh, Claire, its beautiful…thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome, honey, I’m glad you like it.”
“Claire…”
“What?”
“I’m sorry I lashed out at you, it’s just that…you shouldn’t try to push me and John together, it’s no use…
and it’s embarrassing…”
“He cares about you, I know. I told you how devastated he was when we found you…”
“I know what you told me, but in the two weeks I was in hospital he only came round once, and that was
on official police business, wanting to know if I remembered anything from the attack.”
“Oh, honey…he was there practically 24 hours a day when you were still unconscious.” Claire sighed.
“Don’t you see that he’s afraid? John isn’t the kind of man who gives his heart away easily. Donna was
his first love, she damaged him badly.”
Meg stared at Claire clearly confused. “He was?”
Claire frowned. “You know he was…”
“No. I mean…he was at the hospital, with me?”
“Yes. And he did come in during the past two weeks, checking up on you at night, talking to doc Savage;
he just never went in to see you anymore. That’s what I mean, he cares, but he’s afraid to show it.”
“But why?”
“I can only guess, honey, because I can’t get him to talk about it, but I think that he’s afraid that you will
leave again.”
Meg leaned back against the pillows suddenly feeling very tired. “Well, he won’t talk to me either, so…I
don’t know…”
Claire saw her face drain into pallor. “You should get some rest.” She walked over and pulled Meg’s boot
from her foot. “Now, sleep. I’ll check in on you later.”
***
It seemed to Meg that her recovery lasted forever. Being a doctor herself she wasn’t the most forbearing patient and as a self-sufficient person she hated to depend on other people. She was very happy when
Doc Savage finally gave her a walking cast. It meant that she could hobble around the house and manage
her own affairs. She had come to an agreement with Heather, who didn’t mind doing domestic chores. In
fact Heather was quite relieved she didn’t need to care for Meg physically anymore, it hadn’t been a great success. For instance, Meg refused to be washed by her, she had been adamant in taking a shower every
day. It had been quite an endeavor because she had to find a way to keep the cast dry, but in the end
she’s worked something out with a chair in the shower and a footstool just outside it.
Meg loved the house. It was a one-story wooden house that Claire had furnished and decorated with taste
and care. The living room had a large old-fashioned stone fireplace with rug in front of it. One wall was covered with bookshelves that Claire had filled with real books. Classic ones by Mark Twain, Hemingway, Dostoyevsky, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Steinbeck and Faulkner, modern ones by Iris Murdoch, Muriel Sparks,
Beryl Bainbridge, Paul Bailey and James Kelman. Meg even found some of her favorite detective writers
in there, P.D. James, Ruth Rendell. And Claire had a great collection of travel books on the Alaskan
Interior. Meg was in literature heaven. The furniture was mainly comfortable. A large couch, a reading
chair and a table in front of the window where she’d installed her new laptop.
Having lost everything in the fire, Meg had asked Claire to get her a new wardrobe, mainly consisting of
T-shirts, sweaters and tracksuit trouser because Meg needed easy wide fitting clothes to spare her bruised body and with the cast she couldn’t wear jeans. She’d called Paul and Helen, who’d been appalled and
had wanted to jump on the first plane to come over; it had taken all of Meg’s persuasive powers to talk
them out of it.
In time she would replace her CD’s and books and the rest of her clothes, but what she really mourned
was the loss of her father’s chess-set.
In the three weeks since her attack, most of the swellings and bruises on her face and body had
disappeared. Her ribs were still giving her some trouble and she would be very relieved to be rid of the
cast, but all in all she was doing great.
Two weeks later Doc Savage finally took off the cast. The muscles in Meg’s leg had weakened and her ankle joint was still a bit stiff, so she faithfully performed her exercise everyday. With this last restriction out of
the way she felt like her old self again, and the first thing she did was visit the general store and buy a
couple of jeans.
***
It was the 15th of March and Meg’s Birthday. Claire had come round early in the morning to congratulate
her and wanted her to get ready to go out but wouldn’t say where they were going.
“Just dress as warm as possible. You’ll need your parka and gloves and don’t forget your sunglasses. I’ll
be round in half an hour to pick you up.”
When she arrived, Meg was ready and curious, but Claire just laughed at her questions and said, “You
will see, Miss Impatience.”
They got in Claire’s car and drove to the lake, where Claire parked and unloaded a large picnic basket.
Meg raised her eyebrows in question, but Claire wouldn’t budge. “Just wait.”
A couple of minutes later two large sleds with each 13 dogs in front came noisily flying round the bend
and with a loud, ‘whoa’ the drivers stopped the sleds right next to them.
Meg watched them with open mouth and turned to Claire, her eyes radiating with excitement. “Oh, Claire! Dogsleds! I love it!”
Claire was overjoyed by her friend’s reaction. “Come and I’ll introduce you to the Winnetka’s.”
The Winnetka brothers, Ben and Galin, were obviously close friends of Claire and as she learned later,
John’s teammates at the Saturday game.
“They are the best mushers in the area. Best guides too. So, if you’re ever thinking of going on a hike, call them. In summer, they can take you river rafting, or canoeing; watch the bears or eagles; fishing,
horseback riding or mountain climbing. About anything you can think of doing outdoors, they are the
best.” Claire said.
The brothers, big and handsome native Inuit, smiled proudly, nodding in acknowledgement. Meg liked to
see they displayed no false modesty.
“Mushers, is that’s how you call the drivers?”
“Yeah, it comes from the French ‘marchon’, to move.”
The sleds and dogs was an impressive sight. Meg walked up closer and patted some of the dogs, which
were quite friendly and crowded around her.
“Could you tell me about dog-sledding,” she asked Galin.
He pointed at the large wooden sled. ‘Well, this is a toboggan, specially made for carrying freight or people;
we use these for trips with tourists. For races, we use other, lighter and smaller sleds. The dogs are Alaskan Huskies, we bred them ourselves, and they’re the best runners in the world.”
Claire said, “Galin and Ben both run the Iditarod.”
Meg looked nonplussed. “The what?”
She caught the look the brothers gave each other, lightly shaking their heads at her ignorance.
“Hey, I’m used to cabs, okay?” She said, mockingly.
“The Iditarod is the largest dogsled race in the world. 1150 miles from Anchorage to Nome,” Ben said,
“one of the last great races. If you’re interested, I have some books on it.”
Galin went on explaining, pointing at the dog in front. “This is the leader, he’s the one who follows the commands, and through our commands at him we keep control over the team. These two,” pointing at
the two directly behind the leader, “are the swing dogs, leaders in their own right, we switch them
sometimes. And these,” pointing at the two dogs closest to the sled, “are the wheel dogs. You see they are larger and stronger then the others? That’s because they keep the sled from hitting trees or boulders when
we make turns. They bring the sled around without tipping it over. The rest are team dogs, but we have trained them so they can do the other tasks as well.”
Meg was impressed and couldn’t wait to see the dogs in action. After the supplies were placed in the
special bags on the sleds, they got in. They sat on furs and Galin walked around the sled, pulling more
furs over them. The sleds were covered with a sort of canvas and Galin zipped it around them. The dogs
were standing in position and were barking like mad, eager to go.
Galin and Ben took their places on the back of the sleds and after they gave a ‘thumbs up’ they shouted
‘hike’ and the dogs took off.
The minute they started running, the dogs stopped barking. Meg watched the fluid line run before her.
The dogs trotted easily, pink tongues swinging from side to side, the only sound the soft thud of paws and
the low swish of the sled. Their route took them around the town, through forest and frozen riverbeds.
Meg learned that ‘gee’ meant right and ‘haw’ left.
They went through the Pine forest and on to a frozen lake, crossing it. Meg never saw a landscape like
this; the whole world seemed flat in white and grey. She rested her head against the sled and looked up
at the enormous sky, imagining looking down from there, seeing the two trains as insignificant little lines
in an endless mass of white. Something wild and thrilling in the great expanses of snow, soft and crisp, pristine and undisturbed stretched away from them.
They reached the bank of the lake on the other side and followed a trail along its border for about two
hours until they reached a log cabin. With a ‘whoa’ Galin and Ben pulled the sleds up till under its porch. Galin zipped the bags open so Meg and Claire could get of and stretch their legs. The Winnetka’s tended to
the dogs, releasing them from their harnesses. The dogs each dug a hole in the snow and flopped into it.
Ben scooped gobs of frozen fat out of a plastic bucket: the dog’s appetizer. He explained to Meg. “Chicken
fat is a dog's carbohydrate. It goes right into the system as fuel.”
The cabin was build against a mountain slope and the woman carried the picnic basket inside. While
Claire unpacked its contents and set the table, Meg lighted the fire; soon its warmth spread through the
cabin. Claire had brought plates with smoked salmon, quiches, cucumber sandwiches, and pasta salad.
There was coffee and even champagne and when the Winnetka’s finished taking care of the dogs they
enjoyed their lavish lunch.
They stayed in the cabin for an hour, giving the dogs some time to rest. Meg enjoyed listening to the
brothers. They were telling her all sorts of stories about tracking in the wilderness and about hockey and
the Saturday game. She learned that the Mystery team had played the New York Rangers.
It astounded her. “You played the Rangers? How did that happen?”
They told her all about it and about John and his part in it, being the team’s captain. She could listen to
them all day.
When it was time to get going again, they cleaned up their mess and packed everything in the bags, not
trace of their being there was left. On the way back, the sleds crossed the lake and followed the trail on
the other side, riding through ancient forests until they rounded Mystery again and finally pulled up next
to Claire’s car again.
Claire and Meg said their good-byes to the brothers and thanked them extensively for the wonderful experience. During the drive home, Meg thanked Claire for the lovely surprise. “It was just wonderful, I
can’t thank you enough…it was something I always wanted to do, how did you guess?”
Claire hesitated. “Well…actually…it wasn’t my idea.”
“I wasn’t?”
“No…it was John’s idea and he…sort of arranged it.”
Meg was dumbstruck. “John? What do you mean, he sort of arranged it?”
“Well…when I told him of your upcoming birthday he called the Winnetka’s to make sure that they were
free today and he…well…called in a marker.”
Confusion was plain on Meg’s face. “He thought of it and arranged it?” She let it sink in and the more she thought about it, the angrier she got. “He’s arranged for this lovely surprise on my birthday but he’s not joining? He’s being nice to me without me knowing? He’s being fucking wonderful and all the time he’s hiding?” Tears of frustration and bewilderment rolled down her cheeks.
Claire shifted in her seat, uneasy. This wasn’t the kind of reaction she’d expected. “Umm, I kind of
promised John I wouldn’t tell you.”
“Well…I’m sorry…then you shouldn’t have told me, because I’m not going to let this pass.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that I’m going to talk to him and by God, he will talk to me this time!”
ON TO PART THREE
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