I sat down on the rocker and began rocking. I strained to hear his voice above my thumping heart.
“Is that all you have to say, ‘Oh’? I’m serious. I want to come see you. I know we can’t go back to where we were, but surely we can be friends again.”
Why had I let myself get into this impossible position?
I watched the island. The black dots were converging on the beach. One after another, the boats slid into the water. Soon the whine of their motors drifted over the flat water.
“Megs? You still there? Say something.”
“I don’t know, Gareth. I think I’ve said all I have to say. Besides, I’m busy.”
“Busy? In the fucking wilds!” he shot back. Then, as if suddenly remembering the reason for the call, he changed his tack and continued. “Look, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you. I guess I’m nervous.”
“That’s a first.”
“I mean it. My life hasn’t been the same since we separated.”
“Yeah, sure.”
“You have every right to be angry. Just give me a chance. You did once before. Remember?”
How could I forget? That was the first time he left me for someone else. But he did come back. And stayed until Janice turned up.
“Besides, I’ve decided it’s only fair you have the Chaki,” he added.
“Pardon?” I must’ve misunderstood.
“I said, I’ll give you the damn painting.”
That magnificent landscape. I’d coaxed him into helping me purchase it for our tenth wedding anniversary. In a fit of spite during our battle over marriage assets, he’d argued the oil painting was his because he’d paid the greater portion. The judge had agreed.
“So what’s your answer?”
I hesitated. I really wanted the picture. Besides, it had been three years since I’d seen Gareth. It’d be kind of nice to look once more on the man who’d held me enthralled for more years than I cared to count. But how close did I want to be? Perhaps if I could get him to hand over the painting without getting out of the car, he’d just drive away.
“All right,” I finally answered.
Gareth said he could bring it next Saturday. I agreed. The sooner the painting was in my hands, the better. I didn’t trust him.
I loosened my grip on the phone and placed it back on the cradle. My fingers were still tense, so was every other muscle in my body. The throbbing in my arm seemed to take on a life of its own. Hell, what had I done?
A sudden roar of engines exploded from behind the distant point. One after another, the three planes skimmed across the water and lifted into the air. They narrowly missed the tops of my trees as they veered up and over Three Deer Point. The droning continued until it was smothered by the silence of the forest. But the silence was short-lived.
The boats revved their engines and, like mosquitoes honing in on the scent of blood, sped towards Three Deer Point. With an ear-piercing buzz, they swerved past my shoreline and headed back to the Fishing Camp. They left a reminder of their passing, an oscillating hum on the wind.
The phone started ringing again.
THREE
Eric bounded up the stairs two at a time. On the phone, he’d said it would take him less time to drive here from the Band Council Hall than it would take a hawk to fly. He was right. But then, he had an unfair advantage, a Harley Davidson Road King.
“Meg, you’ve got to help me with Whispers Island,” he said.
He collapsed his firm, middle-aged body into a large wicker chair next to the verandah railing and shoved his mane of mostly black hair behind his ears. Next he did what he always did when he visited Three Deer Point, ran his soft grey eyes over my magnificent view of the lake and surrounding hills. A sudden burst from the sinking sun ignited a neighbouring hill into a patchwork of exploding red and gold. He smiled.
Then he scowled. “Into that already?” He nodded towards the refilled tumbler of vodka.
I ignored him. I was tired of having him on my case about my drinking. Besides, I needed it after what I’d just been through. I took another sip.
“You’ve got to be kidding. Last thing I want on Whispers Island is a resort,” I said.
“How about a gold mine?”
“Eric, I’m warning you, I’ll fight you all the way.”
He grabbed the glass from my hand. “Meg, I said gold mine.”
“Gold mine? Me support you with a gold mine? You’ve got to be out of your mind.” I reached for the glass.
He jerked it away. “Slow down, I’m on your side. I’ve got nothing to do with the mine.”
“Like hell. Who else allowed those men on the island?”
“The Ministry.”
“You serious?”
“Very.” But he didn’t really need to answer. Although he wasn’t inclined to show emotion—I put it down to a man or an Indian thing—I could always tell when something was bothering him. The puckered scar above his right eye would turn white. Now it seemed to glow in the growing dusk.
“Please, give me back my drink. And I’ll pour you one. I think we both need it.” I headed to the kitchen.
“Okay, shoot,” I said, returning with two filled glasses, one of lemon vodka, the other single malt.
During his days as a professional hockey player, Eric had developed a liking for some of the finer things in life, such as single malt whiskey. With his increased responsibilities as band chief, he’d decided it was no longer appropriate. He had to set an example for the reserve’s youth. However, he couldn’t quite give it up. So he kept a bottle at my place.
“It’s very simple, a motherlode of gold has been discovered.”
“Impossible. People have been living around here too long for something like that not to have been discovered long ago.”
“Well, believe it or not, it’s true.” Eric took a long, slow sip of the scotch.
“How do you know?”
“One of my guys got wind of something early this afternoon when he was renting boats to some guys connected to those planes. Said they were with some mining company, said the band would be in fat city with this new mine. Bullshit.” He took another deep swallow. “All we’ll get is dead land and dead water. It’ll kill the Fishing Camp.”
“And anything else on Echo Lake,” I added. Visions of smoke stacks spewing out who knows what chemicals swirled through my mind. “What is the ministry going to do
