believe in omens and that kind of stuff, but this is just too weird to ignore. It can’t hurt. I mean, my car is due for an oil change, anyway. Why don’t you come with me?”
“Me?” asked Max, incredulous. “You want me to spend my Saturday morning with old Parsnips? That would be worse than a weekend detention. Besides, I’m in good shape. Seeing that old guy might be bad for my health.”
“Max, look me in the eyes and tell me the last time that you exercised. Do it with a straight face.”
“Hey, you don’t need to exercise to be healthy. I read somewhere that every human being has a finite number of heartbeats, and then they die. If you exercise too much, your heart beats faster, and you actually run the risk of dying sooner.”
“I repeat, Max, look at me with a straight face and tell me that you really believe that.”
“Only after you look at me with a straight face and tell me that an auto mechanic from Wakefield can help you stay healthy to a ripe old age.”
“OK, Max, let’s cut this out. What’s the worst that can happen? We drive to Wakefield, grab some breakfast, and I get an oil change. What’s the problem? Is it because you’re afraid of Parsons?”
“Afraid of him? Are you kidding? I was never afraid of him—I just didn’t like his style. I don’t mind meeting him again. Sure, I’ll go to Wakefield with you. To tell you the truth, I can’t wait to see what this mechanic looks like.”
“Saturday it is. I’ll pick you up at 9:00.”
“OK, but promise me one thing, Ben,” said Max.
“Maybe. What is it?”
“Promise me that you won’t go to your barber for advice on investing in mutual funds.”
“Very funny, Max. See you on Saturday.”
* * *
Ben and Max turned onto Phoenix St., a wide boulevard in a residential section of Wakefield. Max spotted a sign indicating that they were on a cul-de-sac.
“This can’t be right, Ben.”
“It isn’t, Max. It’s left. Didn’t you notice which way I turned?”
“I mean, it can’t be on this street. Where could an auto mechanic’s shop be located in this neighbourhood?”
“Hopefully on 112 Phoenix St., unless old Parsnips has led us on a wild goose chase. There it is, last house on the right, according to my instructions.”
“I think you’ve been had, my friend. I think Parsnips is finally getting revenge for all the grief you caused him in high school. He’s probably back in Ottawa sucking on a grapefruit and laughing.”
“Actually, Max, he’s right there—in front of the garage. Wave to the nice vice-principal.”
“How does this business survive? He’s in a residential neighbourhood, his shop is a double garage, and there’s no sign. How do people find him?”
Ben had to admit that he was asking himself the same questions. This was the first time he had ever brought his car for servicing to a house that was nicer than his own. He admired the towering white pines, estimating that they must be almost a hundred years old. In the previous century, most of the Ottawa River valley was covered with trees like these. A thriving lumber industry clear-cut vast tracts of these giant pines to feed an insatiable market in Europe. The trees on the Webster property had somehow survived the onslaught. If they were a century old, thought Ben, they looked remarkably good for their age.
“What is this, Ben? What’s this guy going to do—meditate before he fixes your car? What’s that? Do you hear that? Is that one of those kids on a bike selling ice cream?”
“Wait, Max. Listen. It sounds like wind chimes, or something. Hey, here comes Parsnips. By the way, don’t call him that. You can call him Vic.”
Parsons walked briskly down the driveway as Max and Ben climbed out of the car, smiling and hand extended.
“Maxwell Farley,” he announced, shaking Max’s hand profusely. Max was taken aback by the warm greeting, and surprised that Parsons recognized him. As far as he knew, Ben hadn’t told him that he was bringing a friend.
“Mr. Pars—uh, Vic. Hi. How are you? You’re looking good.”
“I’ve never been better in my life, as I’m sure you have heard from our mutual friend here. Good morning, Ben.”
“Morning, Vic. This is the right place, isn’t it?” he asked, gesturing toward the trees and the rows of vases containing cut flowers lining both sides of the path leading to the front door of the log house.
“Oh, you found the right place, that’s for sure. Come on with me, I’ll introduce you to Daniel.”
Ben and Max followed Vic to the back of the house. They passed several large flower beds on their way to the corner of the yard where Daniel sat on a bench in the shade of a pine tree, watching the goldfish swimming lazily in an outdoor pond. The air was still, and only the call of a cardinal high in the tree broke the silence. Ben surveyed his surroundings and took a deep breath. He could not remember the last time he felt this relaxed. For a moment, he had forgotten that he was here to have the oil changed in his car. A slight breeze blew across the yard, tickling the wind chimes hanging from pine branches throughout the yard. Ben began to doubt that this man knew very much about cars, but at that moment, it really didn’t matter. Max, an amateur birder, was preoccupied trying to locate the cardinal in the top of the pine tree.
“Daniel,” said Vic. “I’d like you to meet Ben and Max. Two of the finest students ever produced by Confederation High School. Of course, I only say that now that I am no longer the VP and they are no longer my students.”
“How do you do, sir,” said Ben, shaking Daniel’s hand.
“Hi there,” said Max.
“Gentlemen,” said Daniel, “welcome to my little heaven in Wakefield.”
Ben watched a sparrow land in one of the many large bowls of water on the property. These were unusual birdbaths, thought Ben, but much of what he had seen so far was out of the ordinary.
“Let’s walk,” said Daniel, gesturing to a gently sloping path leading into a ravine on the edge of the property.
Daniel stopped at the edge of the ravine. “The energy is best at this spot,” he proclaimed. Ben looked at Max, who shifted his gaze to Vic. No one spoke as Daniel surveyed the landscape. The only sound was that of the trembling aspen leaves shivering in the breeze.
Finally Daniel turned to Ben and made full eye contact, locking him in his gaze. “What kind of car do you drive?” he asked unexpectedly. The sudden shift from the transcendental to the arcane caught Ben off-guard.
“A Toyota Celica,” Ben replied. “Yellow,” he added, as though that were significant.
“Why?” asked Daniel.
“Why….what?”
