me recap. The female parts of both plants will flower within a few hours of each other. We wait approximately twenty-four hours for the male flowers to produce pollen. You will stand ready to take Thor’s pollen to Sif, where Glory will immediately pollinate Sif’s female flowers. You will return here with Sif’s pollen, and I will manually pollinate Thor’s female flowers. Hopefully, the female flowers of both plants will still be receptive, keeping in mind that they have been ripe for twenty-four hours. Got that, Bliss? Do you understand how crucial it is for you to be on standby and deliver Thor’s pollen to Glory, then Sif’s here to me?”
“Yeah, crucial. Standby. Got it.” In truth, Dougal lost me way early in his lecture, but my role seemed to be limited to making a few trips between the plants to deliver pollen. And someone would no doubt tell me which way to go first, so there was no need for me to get overly involved in the science.
“Okay, you can leave now. I’m having company, so take your shabby underwear out of my dryer and whatever food you haven’t eaten, and go.” Dougal shooed me out of the room.
“Your other plants look ready to pollinate too, Dougal. Don’t you have to do something with them, like get them the hell out of the house? I’m telling you, the police are very interested in marijuana these days.”
“It’s ready to cut and dry. I’m doing much better now, with the therapy, and a Valium now and then to take the edge off. I think this will be my last harvest.”
“Glad to hear that,” I said, relieved he was coming to his senses. “Why don’t you just get rid of it now?”
“What am I supposed to do with it? If I burn it in the backyard, the whole neighbourhood will be high. And I can’t exactly put an ad in the paper: Mature Cannabis Plants for Sale. This crop will last me a few years, and by then, who knows, it might be legal to grow your own.”
“I thought you said you weren’t going to smoke the stuff anymore.”
“When did I say that? I’ll still smoke once in a while on social occasions. What do you think people do when they have a party?”
“Uh, eat, drink, talk?”
“You are quite the little innocent, aren’t you? What did you do at university when everyone else was stoned?” Dougal was shoving items from the fridge and cupboard into a plastic bag and glancing at his watch every few seconds.
“Worked in my spare time to help the Weasel through law school,” I replied, thinking I could remember every party we attended at university, there were so few of them.
“Well, that worked out well, didn’t it? You would have been better off having a little more fun.” He shoved the bag and a bottle of water into my hands. “Here, drink this. You’re looking a little dry around the edges. Got your underwear? Good. See you bright and early in the morning. Don’t be late again.”
I sniffed my armpit.
“What are you doing that for?” Dougal backed away quickly.
“I can’t remember when I had a shower last. I have to use your bathroom before I go.”
“Oh, no you don’t. You’ll just have to smell yourself until tomorrow. Company’s coming, and I have a few preparations to make.”
“Like lighting some candles and uncorking the wine? Or maybe rolling a few?”
“None of your business.” He shut the door on me, an affront I was growing used to.
I did consider, once again, hanging around to catch Melanie in the act, at least see what she looked like. But something Dougal had said about the parties at university triggered the ghost of a memory. It was a long shot after so many years, but suddenly I was in a hurry to get back to the trailer, my fear of Hemp Hollow’s threatening shadows forgotten for the moment.
Maybe, just maybe, I had a spare ace up my blackmailing sleeve.
Chapter
SEVENTEEN
I noticed the stench first. My preoccupation nearly caused me to miss the low growling, but even had I been in a coma my nose would have detected the fetid reek emanating from the forest behind me.
Hugging my bag of food close to my chest, I turned my neck and saw the unblinking green eyes cutting through the black night. A snarl preceded another wave of wild animal scent. Bear!
My feet flew between the trailers and around to my stoop. I was certain I heard the bear crashing through the underbrush, snapping at my heels. This time the key found its mark at first try. Lucky, since I wouldn’t have had a second chance. As soon as I slammed the door shut and shot the bolt, a heavy thud sounded against the trailer wall, followed by a menacing growl. Starving bears were known to move down the Bruce Peninsula this far south in search of food, and I had heard stories of bears actually tearing doors right off their hinges.
The skin on my neck tightened as I waited for another assault on my aluminum door. I should have my bat, I thought, but the logical part of my mind knew a bat was no protection against a bear. I ran to my bedroom to get it anyway, stealing a peek out the tiny window. Nothing.
The bat under my arm, I pulled out my cell to call 911. I punched the 9 and the first 1, and stopped. The police would come around in response to my call. They would look for a bear, which they may or may not find. But the police might notice something suspicious around the Quigley trailer. When Ewan and Snake were released on bail, they would be really angry.
Bear or Ewan and Snake? The choice could kill me. I closed my BlackBerry and sat on the floor in the dark, my ear pressed against the door. It may have been hours, it may have been ten minutes, but I heard no further rumbling, and nothing clawed at the door from the other side.
I was still holding my plastic bag. Knowing bears could smell food from miles away, I got up and stowed the bag in the fridge. I called Rae’s number, but there was no answer. I left a message warning her about the bear.
I really, really hated nature. I could hardly wait to move back to town where sidewalks and pruned bushes discouraged wild animals, and the worst thing you could meet in the dark was a Doberman on a leash or your neighbour mooning you in the backyard. I’d take a bare ass over a wild bear any day.
Even though I had to pee, I didn’t dare go outside and climb the hill to the recreation building. A full bladder and terror are not conducive to restful sleep, but exhaustion finally claimed me and Morpheus held me in a steely grip until a pain in my abdomen woke me at first light.
The pain was my bladder about to let go. Frantically, I tried to think of something to use as a receptacle. Pulling open the only cupboard in the trailer, I surveyed the possibilities. One small pot and one plastic bowl. Not enough, even combined.
Unlocking the door, I stuck my head out and sniffed. Cooking odours drifted from the Quigley trailer. Vanilla and some other unfamiliar seasoning. No musty bear odour.
Bat in hand, I scurried around back and sought out a suitable spot. Not that I had time to be fussy, but I needed privacy. Finding a clump of low-growing wild junipers, I climbed into the middle and hunkered down to business.
Junipers have short, scratchy needles, and the dried leaves I was forced to use in lieu of two-ply were going to leave serious scars. Just as I pulled up my undies, which were beginning to resemble a shredded
