to be. How stupid. All I got was a trip to the hospital after he’d slammed me against the kitchen counter.
This time I wasn’t going to be a fool. I was going to do what I should have done then.
I turned around and walked back to the verandah, where not five minutes ago we’d almost been old friends. I grabbed his keys and cell phone, went inside and locked the door behind me. I locked all the other outside doors. Then I stomped back to the front door. I wrenched it open, threw his stuff as far as I could and shouted. “Gareth, it’s over. If you’re not gone in five minutes, I’m calling the police.”
I returned inside and double locked the door. I held my breath and waited. Silence reigned. Even Sergei had stopped barking. I peeked out the side window. Where minutes before tenderness had gazed out of clear brown eyes, now only anger flashed.
He walked towards the stairs. “Megs, listen to me,” he shouted. “You’ve got it all wrong. Let me in, and I’ll tell you the whole truth.”
I stepped away from the door. He started hammering on it. “Damn you, let me in!” I heard Sergei’s muffled growls. “Get away, you damn dog!” Gareth snarled.
“Keep at it, dog,” I whispered and retreated into the living room.
The pounding filled the room, filled my head. What was I going to do? I was miles from help. I stood frozen, emotions whirling, afraid to move. A sudden yelp from Sergei woke me up.
“Leave the dog alone!” I cried.
I ran to the kitchen, grabbed the phone and a butcher knife. I dialled Eric’s number and got only his voice mail. I called the provincial police and was told it would take at least twenty minutes. I tried the Migiskan Police, but they were tied up on another call.
I’d have to deal with Gareth myself.
I took a deep breath, clutched the knife firmly and walked steadily to the front door. The hammering had stopped. I waited. I strained my ears, expecting to hear Gareth’s ragged breathing behind the door. Nothing. Total silence.
And then I heard the sound of engines firing up. By the time I got to the window, Gareth’s company car was roaring down the drive with Charlie’s red Yukon in hot pursuit. A yapping Sergei chased after them as I collapsed into Aunt Aggie’s rocker.
TWENTY
The sound of their engines was still reverberating through the hills when rage took over. And it was rage directed not at Gareth, but at myself. Sure, he’d betrayed me, but he was only being the bastard he’d always been. He hadn’t changed. Why should he?
And I hadn’t changed either. Despite all my efforts to escape his controlling grip, I’d still been sucked in. Like a dewy-eyed bitch, I’d fallen for his phony line. He didn’t need to do more than smile, bat his puppy eyes, and I was hooked. Just like every other time.
“God damn it!” I shouted to the walls. I kicked at the chesterfield and threw the cushions to the floor. I pounded on the coffee table and almost broke my hand. Then I saw the Chaki painting still leaning against the wall where I’d dropped it.
With single-minded purpose, I walked over, picked it up and marched outside to the overhanging bulge in the verandah. I leaned over the railing as far as I could and flung it into the air. It soared down the cliff wall like a flying saucer, then a sudden gust of wind picked it up and deposited it in the twisted crown of a pine growing out of the rock. I couldn’t even do that right.
I marched into my bedroom, put on some outdoor clothes and hiking boots and stomped outside. I needed to get out of there. This time, vodka wouldn’t do the trick. I needed to drown myself in the wilds.
I stomped along the trail towards the Lookout, through Aunt Aggie’s now defunct sugar bush. I kicked my anger out on the fallen leaves, creating a mini bow wave of shifting gold. As if knowing better than to stay near me, Sergei raced up the trail and was soon lost behind the converging trunks of the maple trees.
I cursed myself with every forward step. I was an idiot and a fool. All the things Gareth had called me at one time or another. Well, I wasn’t going to be a fool any longer. It was clear Gareth would never be the man I’d thought I’d married. He was a selfish, controlling bastard, always had been and always would be. It was high time I accepted it. I had my own life now. I didn’t need him any more.
Around the next bend in the trail, the remains of Aunt Aggie’s maple sugar operation loomed into view, and with them came the muffled barks of Sergei. It was a sorry-looking collection of log shacks that had once housed the huge iron cauldrons Aunt Aggie used to boil the clear maple sap down to the super sweet brown syrup. Only one of the shacks remained standing, with its roof still intact. The others were jumbles of rotting squared timbers, broken planks and rusted metal roofing.
From under the shack emerged Sergei’s black hind quarters, his tail wagging vigorously. As I approached, he backed out, shook the dirt from his fur, emitted one shrill bark then resumed digging. Praying it wasn’t a skunk he’d found, I hurried past and started the slow weaving climb up the steep hill to the Lookout.
“Gareth is gone. Gareth is gone,” I vowed with every step. From this point onwards, Gareth was out of my life, never to return. And as I hiked up the hill, the anger gradually dissipated, leaving in its wake a sense of peace. I said the word “Gareth” and felt nothing. I felt the tension flow from my shoulders, down my arms and out my fingertips. This time he was gone, forever.
I breathed in deeply the fresh forest smell and stopped to listen to the honking of geese flying overhead. Around the next bend, I found myself staring into startled brown eyes, then with a flash of its white tail, a deer disappeared through a wall of gold.
I continued walking. This time I kicked the leaves in play, not in anger.
I reached the smooth granite knoll of the Lookout feeling invigorated and not out of breath, as was my usual state after climbing the hill. I perched atop Aunt Aggie’s rickety bench. Two feet away, the granite plunged a hundred feet to the vibrant canopy of the maples below. Through gaps left by fallen leaves, I could see rusty sections of the remaining sugar shack’s roof.
I reached down to pick up a piece of birch bark wedged in a crack and discovered instead a cigarette butt. I started to get annoyed at the thought of trespassers but decided there was no harm in others taking advantage of this unique view. I hoped it was the same person I’d spied from Eric’s boat the day we went to Whispers Island. I didn’t want too many people invading my private retreat.
I held out my arms and embraced the magnificent unfettered view of my world, a world that would never contain Gareth. I breathed the crisp clear air, air that would never smell of Gareth. The sparkling waters of Echo Lake winked back at me as if to say “I’m with you, gal.” Even Three Deer Point seemed to be passing opinion on Gareth with its long fingerlike point.
The lake was surprisingly busy for so late in the afternoon. Several boats were speeding towards Forgotten Bay Fishing Camp, while others were racing away. I could just see the tip of the camp’s dock, where an unusually large crowd congregated. I assumed it was a large fishing party getting ready for some dusk time trawling. But sporadic flashes through the trees of something large and red moving towards the Camp made me wonder if something else wasn’t going on.
When I looked out towards Whispers Island and saw a line of boats cluttering the northern spit, I wondered if this activity didn’t have something to do with CanacGold. A
