my uncle lou

my uncle Lou

Romney Township runs north from the north shore of Lake Erie, which supports the largest freshwater fishing port in the world at Wheatley. Men earn their living on the lake netting yellow perch and pickerel, or walleye, as the Americans call them, from fishing tugs. More people earn their living at the Omstead processing plant two miles south of the village.

Romney township is the beginning of the Ohio River Valley and is the northern limit of the great Carolinian forest. The great migration flyways, the Atlantic and Mississippian, converge here.

I once saw an oak tree covered in so many butterflies that they made a whooshing noise when they left the tree in an orange cloud. I once watched a flock of blackbirds which took an hour to fly past me.

The land is as flat as the plains. Much of the Carolinian forest has been destroyed though now a few men who love more than themselves are replanting patches of it.

In many fields, hobby horse oil pumps bob all day long, extracting petroleum. At night, the flares of gas burn like flags of profligacy.

The land is still rich despite the constant cropping of corn, beans, and wheat and the decline of livestock and the enriching manure. Modern road to road farming is akin to mining and so anthropocentric is has no space or concern for other species. And yet God has somehow provided for increasing populations of whitetail and wild turkey.

And the great hawks and even the eagle now fly over the township and out into Lake Erie. But most of the songbirds are declining. I haven't seen a bluebird since 1988, despite nailing up dozens of bluebird houses. Quail and pheasant have declined to near extinction. Perhaps that's related to the increase in coyotes but fall ploughing hasn't helped and the eradication of hedgerows is a death sentence to wildlife in general.

Still, all these things can change. Men can decide to leave a corner of the field to grow wild. Men can protect wet areas instead of draining them.

The land is still rich just not as wealthy as it could be. But I thank God this has been my spot in the world. And that, despite troubles, that I was born into my family, my particular and peculiar, family.

Beginning Isaiah 66:9

I've known Uncle Lou all my life. Actually, my Uncle Lou delivered me since my dad arrived late and I arrived early-- before the last race. Mom started the process in the back seat of Uncle Lou's Desoto about 30 minutes from the hospital. My Uncle Lou parked on the side of the road and in 10 minutes I was nuzzling my mother's breast.

She was barely 17 and such a quick labour is unusual, which would normal for her.

'Lou! Lou!'

'What is it Ella? I've got my arm up Jennette, right now.'

'It's Maddie. She's having her baby.'

'That's nice, Ella. Boy or girl?'

'We don't know.'

'Land o' Goshen! It's a hermaphrodite, like the Cadogan kids!'

'No, Lou, the baby's going to be Canadian.'

'Ella, he is a girl or a boy?'

'I told you we don't know. Maddy's waters just broke. She needs a ride to the hospital.'

'Well, where's that no account brother of mine. Don't tell me, I bet I know.'

'Hurry, Lou. She can't hold on much longer.'

'Just let me get my arm outta Jennette. Should I bring my rubber gloves?'

'Lou!'

The story changed a bit every time Uncle Lou re-told it on my birthday.

I was six when Uncle Lou told me that Mom had given birth all by herself as he drove.

'Just as if a stork dropped a bundle in the backseat of my old Desoto.'

When I was 21 Uncle Lou told me a different story.

'I was A-I-ing Jennette when Ella came out the barn and told me your Mom's waters had broke. I washed up and drove over and carried her out to the Desoto. She almost immediately went into fast hard labour and it was clear we weren't going to make it to the hospital. I pulled over and checked and sure enough you were about to make your arrival. But your Mom wasn't ready and was tearing and starting to bleed heavy so I massaged her and got her breathing right and slowed up the bleeding.'

Needless to say I found some of the details graphic even though I knew Uncle Lou was well-acquainted with Mom's... parts.

'What did Dad think of this?'

My Uncle Lou rubbed his chin. 'I never said anything to him. I doubt Maddy would have chanced it.'

'How did Aunt Ella react?'

'She was driving! She had nothing left over from concentrating on the road, Trey. You know how nervous she is. She never looked into the back seat. Heck, she hardly looks side-to-side to check her mirrors.'

Uncle Lou always ended the stories of my birth with a quote from Isaiah.

'God created every little baby for His glory, Isaiah 43:7.' That's Uncle Lou's version of: Return my sons from distant lands,
my daughters from faraway places.
I want them back, every last one who bears my name,
every man, woman, and child
Whom I created for my glory,
yes, personally formed and made each one.

I think he got the gist of it.

time before school Proverbs 22:6

When I see kids today hanging out at the mall, or worse, under the paranoid eyes of mom and dad at a hermetically sealed playground, playing politically correct, non-competitive activities, I thank God I grew up on a farm with a large wood lot, ponds and streams, where I was free to explore nature, mostly under the eyes of its Creator.

I was alone most of the time when I was not in school or helping with chores and yet I never felt lonely. I knew every trail and rill and copse on Uncle Lou's quarter section and a lot about the adjacent lands and waters. Frequently, I would head out after chores and not be seen by anyone or see anyone until I headed back home for supper and chores. I spent the day before my 11th birthday hunting cottontails in the woods from after morning chores at 7:30 until supper at 5:30. No one was alarmed. Aunt Ella had packed me ham and cheese sandwiches and three big oranges to ward off thirst.

There was a fresh snow on the land, so I could track rabbits. Uncle Lou kept Walter home since I was not big enough to handle the shotgun. I'd have to stalk and use the .22 rifle. Uncle Lou gave me 5 long rifle mushroom cartridges.

'Don't shoot toward any buildings, Trey.'

'No, Uncle Lou.' Even at that age, I felt that admonition was unneeded.

I shot one rabbit that day and brought back 3 cartridges. Uncle Lou was very proud. And so was I. Not many kids today have that sense of responsibility and accomplishment. After church next day, we all had rabbit stew. It remains my favourite birthday meal forty years later.

I suppose Uncle Lou and Aunt Ella looked out from time to time. But they knew knowledge and responsibility were better protectors than overseers would ever be. They made sure I knew how to swim, knew the danger of fast water or thin ice. I could identify poison ivy and poison oak. I didn't eat mushrooms unless Uncle Lou picked them with me. Since I grew up in the rabies capital of the world, I knew that friendly wild animals were to be avoided, or better, killed, for they were undoubtedly rabid. I learned to shoot a .22 at six. I could drive a tractor with a bucket at eight. I canoed white water spring runoff on Yella Crick at nine. I felled trees with a chainsaw when I was ten, to build my own raft.

Now it would have been Uncle Lou or Aunt Ella who looked out for me. Dad wasn't around much and Mom was a free-spirit, Aunt Ella would say but self-absorbed was more accurate. At least during my childhood. And of course there was Wren and Pippin, my younger sisters, to look after.

Anyway, even after school and chores, I had a lot of exploring time.

Frequently, I would meet Mr Chesterfield with his binoculars and small library of bird identification books he carried in a small satchel. He became the world-champion bird watcher. He had seen and documented more species of birds than anyone since Creation. He was written up in the Guinness World Book of Records!

'Shush.' Mr Chesterfield placed a finger to his lips. 'Dendroica kirtlandii... Kirtland's warbler.' He pointed out a sparrow-sized bird with a yellow breast.

'Oh, a Bright Passer.' Uncle Lou taught me the old local names.

Mr Chesterfield grimaced. 'Folks around use that term for Yellow-throats, too.'

'Uncle Lou calls Yellow-throats Bib Passers.'

'Well, that there is Dendroica kirtlandii. It's endangered. You might as well learn the Latin names. Those don't change from place to place. Or farm to farm!'

The Dendroica kirtlandii flitted off and Mr Chesterfield flitted off after it.

No one was alarmed that a seven year-old spoke to a man in the woods. No one warned me about speaking to strangers. Of course, Mr Chesterfield wandered through everyone's land, so he was hardly a stranger. He was ever documenting the bird life and boosting local pride each time he was interviewed by the press or by CBC radio. I would meet him dozens of times over my life and his wonderfully long life. Although he acted gruff at times, he was always eager to share his unparalleled knowledge with fellow lovers of nature. No matter how young.

City types, even though they pine for the country, look down or even pity country folk.

'What a restricted life it must be out in the sticks. The fresh air is sweet but I couldn't survive the ennui for more than a weekend, could you, Doctor Carson?'

'I survived my first twenty years there.'

All of my life, I've hung out with Uncle Lou, mostly at his place, in his house, his barn, his shop, fields and woods. It seemed that Uncle Lou owned everything. He owned the house that I lived in and the car in our driveway. We fished from his boat, hunted with his guns and bows. We fed his stock and ate food from his farm. Never once did he make me, my sisters, or my mother, feel undeserving.

He shared his home with Aunt Ella, a practical, resiliant, and loving woman. She looked after us when Mom had one of her days. Days which sometimes turned into weeks and months. Even when Nana came to live with us, Aunt Ella invited us to her place most afternoons, so Mom could have a quiet house.

'Where's Uncle Lou, Auntie Ella?'

'He's helping your Mom, Pip.'

'Uncle Lou helps Mom become happy.'

'Pip, let's help Auntie Ella bake some bread.' Aunt Ella's love of Mom and Lou had only the slightest tinge of jealousy.

Aunt Ella taught all of us to read. We learnt nursery rhymes and fairy tales and the stories of the Bible. We made weekly trips to the library and Aunt Ella made sure we took advantage of the school library as well.

'If you only read the books your classmates read, you will be average. None of you are average and you shouldn't be satisfied to act average.'

In my family, it would be impossible to be average. Or perhaps normal is the word.

first day of school

I remember the first day of school because Mom and Dad took me in a green car with shiny leather seats. I'd never ridden in the car until that day. And I never rode in it again.

I started school in grade one because Uncle Lou was adamant about me reading well before I started formal learning. Obviously, Aunt Ella agreed.

'I didn't want school to interfere with your education, Trey.'

I really don't remember much except that I met Cali that day. And Janny.

At recess, Janny swiped an apple from Cali's hand, I tackled him and gave it back to her.

'I don't like apples. I let Janny steal it everyday last year.'

Clearly, I had missed some part of my education while Uncle Lou and Aunt Ella were teaching me to read.

I took the apple to Janny. 'Cali wants you to have this.'

Janny had already moved on to wrestle some grade three boys and he was just dusting off his jeans. 'Want some?' He took a bite and offered the apple to me.

'Sure.' I took a bite.

'I can beat up the grade three-ers.' Janny felt the back of his head and winced a bit. 'Most of them. I bet we could beat all of them.'

'I don't like fighting.'

'Oh.' He took the apple back. 'But you can still be my friend.'

'We can be friends.'

Janny spat on his palm and I did the same and we shook on it.

Uncle Lou picked me up after school. 'Your dad had to leave.'

There were no school buses then. I hiked to and from school, about two miles each way. Most of it through my Uncle Lou's woodlot. And I was happy to do it. Uncle Lou's dog, Walter, would come along with me to the edge of the farm. From there I had about half-a-mile to go along the concession road. At four o'clock, Walter would meet me again.

I needed no calendar or clock. Nature apprised me of the season and time and my Uncle Lou had given me the names of the flora and fauna in his piece of creation.

Sputnik 1957 Trey 8

Dad came home that historic day the Russians sent Sputnik into space. I was in third grade and our teacher, Miss Green, had just returned from her honeymoon as Mrs Bailey. She read the news headline and spent the rest of the day crying that her new hubby would be drafted to fight World War Three. The principal, Mr Moffat, came into the room and tried to console her, to no avail.

'Mrs Bailey, hang on until I get a substitute teacher.' But no one came. They let us out early and I ran home to tell Mom the news.

She looked worried even before I told her. 'Mom, the Russians are going to kill Miss Green's husband.'

She cocked her head toward the front room. Just then I smelled the smoke and beer. Wren wasn't in her usual spot by the front window.

'Who told you that guff, ya dumb little bastard?'

'Dell, don't use that language around the kids.'

Dad was home.

'What, you want him to prattle nonsense? Why would the Ruskies waste a bullet on that beatnik. What the hell did the lovely Sylvia see in him?'

I left to hide in my room. There was no talking to him when he got like this. He was usually like this. I heard him shout after me.

'You little ungrateful bastard. You couldn't get your old man a beer, eh? Maybe the Ruskies will kill you, too.'

I heard Mom start crying and then her bedroom door slam shut.

'Where the hell is my beer?'

About 7 pm, Dad had passed out. I knocked on Mom's door but she was still crying and never answered my calls. I went over to Uncle Lou's place.

'Trey, something wrong?'

I remember I couldn't answer but Uncle Lou guessed. 'Did he hit you? Any of you?' I shook my head. 'Are you hungry?' I nodded. 'Wash up. I get your aunt to rustle up supper for you. What about Wren?'

'She's in Mom's room. Mom won't answer me.'

'Eat and then we'll talk.'

Aunt Ella warmed up a plate of roast beef, roasted potatoes and peas for me. 'Let me look you over.' She lifted my shirt and inspected me. 'No welts.' She peeked down the back of my pants. 'Nothing there either, Lou.' She stared me right in the eye. 'Did he touch Wren or your Mom?'

'No, Aunt Ella. He just yelled a bit.'

'What set him off, Trey? Your Mom?'

'No. I told him Miss Green, I mean, Mrs Bailey said the Russians were going to kill her husband.'

Aunt Ella shook her head. 'Lou, that brother of yours has ruined his brain with alcohol. He needs help.'

'He needs...' My Uncle Lou clenched his teeth. 'I'm going over there to get Maddy and Wrennie.'

'Lou, be careful. There's no telling what Dell will do. He's sick.'

'If he isn't now, he will be if he tries anything with me.'

'Ask Maddy to bring some clothing for Trey.'

Aunt Ella always smelled of cooking and lilacs. She sat beside me in the kitchen as I ate, stroking my hair, and leaning as I ate supper to kiss my cheek. 'I would like a boy just like you. A little boy.' She teared up and laughed sadly. 'I have apple pie, too, Trey.'

'I love apple pie, Auntie.' I wanted to say I would be her little boy but something inside stopped me.

I had finished my pie before Mom and Wren came in. Mom and Aunt Ella hugged. Mom tousled my hair has she followed Aunt Ella down the hallway. Wren was already asleep. I heard Mom and Aunt Ella talking and I remember Mom insisting she wasn't hungry but finally agreed to have tea and a slice of apple pie in her room.

My Uncle Lou sat at the kitchen table. 'I asked your Dad to go, Trey. I want you to know that. He never left because you upset him. He left because I told him to.'

'Does Mom know that he's going?'

My Uncle Lou shook his head. 'You are a bright lad. No, she doesn't but I bet she won't be surprised to see him gone.'

'Was my Dad always a bad man, Uncle Lou?'

'No, he wasn't but he came back from the war poisoned by hate. He was a nice little kid and young man.'

'Can I have some more pie, Uncle Lou?'

'Yeah, and I think I'll join you. Then off to bed, we got milking and some squirrel hunting to do tomorrow.'

'Squirrel hunting? For real?'

'Yep. Time to thin them out a bit.'

I finished my pie and washed and changed into my p-jays, said my prayers and snuggled into bed. My Uncle Lou and Aunt Ella looked in. Auntie snugged me in ever so tight and kissed me three or four times on the cheeks and forehead. My Uncle Lou lingered a bit after Auntie left.

'Don't worry about the Russians, Trey. That wasn't a bomb they flew up there. Don't know what it is just yet, but they're as tired of war as we are.'

'Will you tell Mrs Bailey that?'

'I will. I'll call her tomorrow morning, though I expect Dan has already assured her of that.'

'Thanks, Uncle Lou.'

'Now, get rested up for hunting tomorrow. He kissed my forehead and rested his big strong hand on my chest. The heat seemed to penetrate right through me. 'Good night, son.'

My Uncle Lou apparently didn't understand the magic squirrel hunting held for me. I didn't sleep a wink, hardly. And so I heard my Mom whimpering like a little puppy all night and Aunt Ella crying in commiseration. I nodded off near daybreak and dreamt about shooting Dad out of a hickory tree and his fallen body being torn to bits by Uncle Lou's farm collie, Walt. And not feeling one bit bad about it at all, which made me feel sick like I'd eaten too many green apples.

First Blood

I'm not sure if my first squirrel hunt was successful. I remember shooting Uncle Lou's Cooey and missing a lot.

Uncle Lou liked to hunt with a dog. He always said it was twice the pleasure if you had a good dog on a hunt. But dogs and squirrelling with a rifle just didn't mix.

'You have to sit quiet.'

'Is that why Walter couldn't come?'

'Yep, we'll bring him when you're big enough to use a shotgun.'

Uncle Lou found us a spot in half-acre of white oaks. He placed the straw bale he had hauled in the bike-wheeled trailer he had made. It was so light, I could pull it like a rickshaw, even then. I covered the straw to protect it from weather with a old piece of tarp from Archie's grain truck. We would be hunting in the area many days and we'd just move our comfy, and dry, seat to another tree.

On Uncle Lou's instructions, I cut a few bush branches to place in front of us to break up our outline. We wore plaid shirts for the same reason and balaclavas with a sprig of holly bush attached to disguise our faces.

Then we got comfortable and waited. The Cooey laid across our laps, with Uncle Lou at the stock end and the muzzle well away from me.

Within a quarter-hour, although it seemed much, much longer, we heard squirrels moving on the leaf-covered ground. Uncle Lou motioned me to keep still but keep looking.

I saw the squirrel first, I think. Uncle Lou recollects that I did. It was so black that it disappeared when it scampered into shadows. Since I lived in Southwestern Ontario, I grew up with grey and black squirrels. I thought black squirrels existed everywhere, and they do, but only in numbers a little greater than albino squirrels. Around Uncle Lou's farm they outnumbered greys about two-to-one.

Uncle Lou eased the gun into my hands and slowly pulled back the bolt into fire position. 'Look through the peep. Put the bead on his eye. Squeeze the trigger.'

Uncle Lou helped hold the gun up until the squirrel came out of the shadow, then he let me take the heft of the gun. I aimed and touched off a shot, the squirrel somersaulted.

'Got 'im! Trey you got him.'

Uncle Lou picked up the squirrel, poked his finger at the edge of the bullet hole, which was very near his eye, and blooded his finger. He drew that finger down my cheek, leaving a warm slick of blood. 'First blood.'

There would be first blood rituals for pheasant, duck, rabbit, and deer. 'It's an honour predators owe their prey.'

As I inspected my game, I felt melancholy. Uncle Lou placed his hand on my shoulder. 'We all feel sad about taking a life, Trey.'

'I feel sort of happy, too.'

'Most of life's like that.'

Another ritual was eating your kill, and using the hide. Uncle Lou showed me how to clean, skin, and cut the carcase and how to fry it up in bacon grease. The tail was turned into lures for pike and big bass.

Next day, Uncle Lou saw at the blood stain still on my cheek. I was wearing like a medal.

'Wash that off, Trey. It's not mark of mourning.'

JFK Trey 14

I remember November 22, 1963 like most everyone who lived through it but for a different reason entirely. We had a day off school so teachers could meet some travelling guru who was going to revamp the educational system, so I was free to help Uncle Lou buck some firewood.

Recker, Uncle Lou's latest dog, met me at the end of the lane way. For some reason, Recker had taken a dislike to me in past six months or so. He had never completely warmed up to me but now he was positively unfriendly. He was two now and full grown and fit. He menaced me, always trying to catch me off-guard. He was fine when Uncle Lou was around but alone I really had to watch out for myself. My Uncle Lou didn't understand it either. He tried tying Recker up as punishment. I tried swatting him on the nose with a switch of hickory. But Recker never tired of trying to bite me. My Uncle Lou offered to get rid of Recker but I didn't want to sound like a nancy-boy.

My Uncle Lou shouted out the side door and Recker backed off under his master's gaze. 'Ella's got a big fry up cooking, Trey. Get along there, Reck, you mutt of a dog!'

'We are going to buck the maples we felled along Yella Crick.'

'Lou, don't call it that you sound like a rube. Yellow Creek.'

'Okay Ella, Yellow Creek.'

It was named Yellow Creek officially and called Yella Crick by locals because of its yellow clay bottom. It was too cloudy for decent fish but Uncle Lou and I took a lot of pan-size catfish out of it each summer. Sometimes we turtled there too, feeling along the bank under water for snapper shells. It impressed my friends.

Aunt Ella forked two Mennonite sausages and home fries onto my plate and then topped it with three eggs over easy just the way I'd have ordered them.

'Eat up, Trey. There's lots more when you need it.'

'Why are you off school today? Some kinda holiday an uneducated man like me never heard of?'

'It's a professional development day for the teachers Uncle Lou. Aunt Ella brought some baking to school yesterday for the teachers at lunch.'

'Oh, I wondered what happened to all those shortbreads. Still it's the only group of professionals I ever heard of who take time off a half-time job to learn to be a professional.'

'Mr Townsend said that a very well-respected professor from the teacher's college was coming to explain all the new research about why students don't learn.'

'I would think they'd research why students learn. My Chilton manual shows me what it's supposed to look like. No sense in showing me a busted up Bendix drive. There's a million ways things can be broken, right?'

I just nodded since my mouth was full of breakfast.

'Lou, let the boy eat.'

'He's eating, Ella. Trey, you knew how to read before you were sent to school. All those teachers needed to do is point you to the library.'

'Uncle Lou, there's a whole world of psychology out there. Mr Townsend said teaching will become more efficient.'

'It's become more expensive, that's for sure. And there seems to be a lot of psychological cases out there.'

'I think you mean psycho-pathological, Uncle Lou.' Wow, what a day for that word to spring up.

Of course, there were chores to do before starting the day's work. My Uncle Lou milked Jennette while I fed this year's calf Gwendolyn Number 8, and the yearling, Gwendolyn Number 7 which would become a side of beef in a few days. There was a sow and a few young pigs to slop and six ewes and nine ten-month old lambs to hay and grain. Aunt Ella looked after the chickens. It really didn't take a lot of time but you had to be regular and careful and attentive to the stock.

'The stock man's eye is the greatest money saver on the farm. Learn what your stock looks like healthy and you will spot trouble much faster. Right, Trey?'

'Right, Uncle Lou.' He was right, too.

I drove Uncle Lou's ex-army jeep, two power saws and assorted fuel and chain oil cans and two heavy peaveys, sometimes called cant-hooks, loaded in back, home built trailer linked to an eye welded to the frame.

'You could hang the whole darn jeep up with that hook.' My Uncle Lou was certain of that.

It was an overcast day. The trip of a mile took about 10 minutes because the route was so rough and we were hauling the trailer with a solid axle and no suspension. Recker got tired of snapping at my elbow as he ran along side and raced ahead to met us at Yella Crick.

'You sure you're not playing hooky?' My Uncle Lou smiled. 'I played some in my day. Nicest days I had at school were the one's I missed.'

'No hooky for me, Uncle Lou. It's a PD day.'

'Strange, the more fussed up education gets, the worse the results. Hell, in forty years the average graduate is gonna be no smarter than a kid in grade four.'

'Is the game cancelled, too?'

'It was never on the schedule. This PD day's a regular thing.'

'We'll practise some football tonight. After chores.'

I slumped a little at the thought of more work. My Uncle Lou noted my reaction.

'Throwing mechanics. A light work out.'

'I'm a fullback.'

'A fullback who can catch and throw is a triple threat. Any coach knows that. Besides, it could get you a free college education.'

'Not in Canada, Uncle Lou. Not even hockey players get athletic scholarships.'

'Well maybe there's some private scholarships most people don't know about.'

The maples have been felled in September early before most of the leaves turned. The chain saws had ripped through the green fleshy wood. They'd be drier now as the green leaves had continued to transpire for about a week after cutting.

My Uncle Lou had cruised the bush and marked about fifty trees which were about a foot-and-a-half in diameter for culling. The trees were solid but crooked and wouldn't yield much lumber, but would yield about 15 face cord of wood, enough for a year's burning. We'd buck it to two foot lengths and get a cord or two hauled and stacked today. It would be ready to burn in 8 months but most likely would dry for a year before it heated Uncle Lou's place or cooked any stews.

After brushing off the smaller limbs, I took one of the cant hooks and rolled the log up off the ground and placed a butt of wood under the log to act as a rest. Nothing kills saw-chain faster than digging through dirt or getting pinched as two sides of a saw cut, drawn by gravity, push together.

My Uncle Lou and I cut about 20 minutes before the saws needed re-fuelling. We'd made good progress, four trees had been brushed off and bucked to length. Taking the time to re-fuel and refill the chain oil tank and to touch up the chain every two re-fuellings, we figured we'd be done about three o'clock.

'We'll be able to take a little nap before chores.'

Farm life seems relaxed when you read about it or see it on TV but it's really an endless round of jobs that must be done. You can't put off milking a cow or feeding it, unless you are a psychopath.

At the next re-fuelling I took off my jacket and rolled up the sleeves of my work shirt. I had worked up a sweat and an appetite. The air on my bare arms felt good.

We were well ahead of our normal pace. The saws were working top notch and getting to the logs was easy since the ground was dry. The promise of bad weather had held off though the sky remained overcast.

My Uncle Lou tapped me on the shoulder. 'Lunch time.'

I shut off the saw. 'I'll be a minute or two. I want to finish this, I'm almost out of fuel anyway.'

My Uncle Lou looked around. 'Where the heck is Recker? He better not be chasing.'

Chasing to Uncle Lou meant chasing whitetail and it was a cardinal sin for any dog. Chasing ruined a dog for anything else. It's pure opium to a dog, Uncle Lou always claimed.

'I think I saw him go down to the creek.' My Uncle Lou nodded and turned back to the jeep where our sandwiches and thermos of coffee waited.

'Don't be long, it's almost 12:30! I'll bring the jeep up this way. Just by that big shagbark there.'

'I'll be done by then.'

My Uncle Lou trotted off toward the jeep about 75 yards a way and I re-started the saw and made a cut. As I re-positioned myself for the next cut, I was thrown to the ground. My right arm was stinging like I'd been ripped with barbed wire. The saw came flying past my head as I fell forward. The saw shut down as hit it the ground. My right arm was shaking behind my back. Then I heard the growling and Uncle Lou screaming.

'Down Recker. Recker!'

I rolled over and punched Recker's snout with a straight left and he rolled yelping like a puppy but he merely regained his feet and rushed me again. I reached for a branch but nothing suitable came to hand. Recker was nearly upon me when the shadow of Uncle Lou fell across me. I heard something swing through the air, then a thud and splintering noise and sickening painful squealing which went on, seemingly for several minutes. Then another swing whistled above me and another thud and the squealing stopped. I rolled over and saw Uncle Lou drop the peavey to the ground.

'Trey, are you all right.'

'I think I'm bleeding bad, Uncle Lou.' I was bleeding badly. Recker had severed the artery in my forearm. Already the torn sleeve of my work shirt was soaked scarlet. My Uncle Lou stripped off his belt and made a tourniquet on my arm.

'Keep that tight, real tight, son.'

'I'm feeling dizzy.'

'Stay awake, Trey. Stay awake. Dear Jesus keep my boy awake.'

My Uncle Lou carried me most of the way to the jeep. He kicked off the trailer and drove the mile back to the farmhouse in about 5 minutes. He transferred me to the Chevy pickup and Aunt Ella took over keeping the tourniquet tight.

'Trey, it's okay, Trey. Honey, stay awake.' I remember Aunt Ella nuzzling my head. I felt her tears on my cheek. She kept talking to me, encouraging me to stay awake and to trust in God.

I don't remember much more than that. I woke up as we got to the hospital then faded away almost immediately. Next thing I knew I was in a wash of voices and I felt like I was swimming to the surface of a lake. When I opened my eyes I was in a clean room. Mom, Wren, Pippin, and Aunt Ella, were gather around the bed.

'Am I dead?'

'Praise the Lord, no!' Aunt Ella stroked my hair. Pippin squeezed by her and climbed onto the bed, she laid her head on my chest.

'I'm going to cry for you and Recker and the shot man.' Pippin's tumble of chocolate coloured hair nearly covered my face. Aunt Ella brushed it aside. Pippin always smelled of flowers and I nearly dozed off again inhaling the fragrance.

'I'll write out your homework, Trey, if you tell me the answers. I won't cheat for you.'

'Thanks, Wren.' Even at that moment it was a tad irritating that my 11 year-old sister had better marks in grade 10 math than I did. Wren was the youngest kid ever in grade 9 and after two months had been allowed to try higher grade courses.

'It's a deal then.' She shook my left hand and then resumed squinting through her glasses to read the particular tome she had brought with her. It would be some great work the classics teacher lent her, nothing like a Nancy Drew book or Chatelaine's.

Dr Cotrelle came in and looked at my arm. 'Any pain?'

'It's okay, doctor.' He seemed a little disappointed.

'It's still frozen. In an hour it will sting, tell the nurse then.'

I nodded. Pippin was sound asleep on my chest.

'She's not hurting you, is she?'

'No, doctor.'

He stroked her head. 'Such a beautiful little thing.' He seemed to catch himself and turned to my mother who had said nothing yet. 'Maddy, he must stay here overnight. Depending on the result of the autopsy on the dog, he may have to spend a few nights here.'

'Result?'

'If the dog was rabid, Trey will have to take a series of shots. Let's hope it doesn't come to that but an unprovoked attack by a family pet is usually explained by rabies.'

Mom started to cry.

'I'll get you a sedative, Maddy.'

'I'll watch her at home, doctor.'

'Thanks, Ella.'

As Dr Cotrelle left, Reverend Brown came in. 'Let's give thanks to God.' Everyone bowed but I kept my eyes open because I was afraid I might slip away again. At the amen, Pippin lifted her head.

'I heard God talking, Brother.' Pippin always called me Brother.

I smiled and she kissed me with her perfect angel bow lips. She had mother's features and colouring, pale skin and lustrous hair and eyes that shone like opals.

'Where's Uncle Lou?'

'He went to get Recker for the examination, Trey.' At that Aunt Ella started to weep. 'I told Lou not to keep Dell's dog.'

Until that moment I never knew that Recker had any connection with Dad. On my 12th birthday, Recker showed up at our door. He was barely weaned and in need of a lot of care. I would be at school all day and it was beyond Mom's energy to look after another life. She was struggling at that time with two year old Pippin. If it hadn't been for Aunt Ella, Pippin might have wound up in a foster home.

So, since Uncle Lou had just lost his dog, Walt, in a road accident, he took Recker in.

'I can take you home, my rounds are done.' Reverend Brown looked down at me. 'Such an historic day. I suppose you missed the sad news?'

My look told him I hadn't but Wren answered before the reverend could. 'President Kennedy was assassinated.'

Reverend Brown lifted Pippin from the bed. 'Dreadful thing. We must all pray for the USA. And the world.'

'And Brother, Reverend!' Pippin blew me a kiss. Wren patted my arm.

'Was he in Dallas?' My Mom seemed a little confused. Aunt Ella took her by the hand and led her out.

I often wondered if Mom meant, was Dell in Dallas? That would explain why she said nothing to me, nor even approached the bed, except for a perfunctory greeting kiss. She spent the entire visit staring out the window at the grey sky.

I haven't found the moment to ask her what she meant.

recovery

I didn't go home after the hospital. My Uncle Lou had told Mom I would staying at his place. Mom nodded.

'I'll be over to see you later today.'

Mom smiled. 'Will you stay for tea?'

My Uncle Lou chucked Pippin under her chin. 'I'll stay.'

I suppose Uncle Lou felt responsible for me. Aunt Ella had made up a bed in a large closet just off the kitchen. It was large enough for a bed and a reading lamp and it was cozy warm from the kitchen stove. And it was right next to Uncle Lou's bedroom.

'Just knock on the wall if you need anything.' Aunt Ella was bubbling over at the thought of someone to care for.

'I'll be fine, Aunt Ella.' I thought her enthusiasm waned slightly as she heard me.

She kissed me and said good night.

Uncle Lou looked in. 'I'll do the chores tomorrow, if you don't feel up to it.'

I sensed a challenge. 'I feel fine. I might not be able to milk with my right hand, though.'

My Uncle Lou grinned. 'You're made of good stuff, Trey. Real good stuff.'

Next morning came quickly. I woke in pain about midnight and gulped the pills Aunt Ella left for me. She was hoping I'd knock on the wall for a glass of water but I just dry swallowed the pills. I rocked in bed for about 15 minutes before the pain subsided and I fell once again to sleep.

I got out of bed and dressed a quickly as I could but buttoning my shirt and closing my fly proved to awkward. Aunt Ella saw me struggling and buttoned and zipped me up, fortunately without a word.

'I have Mennonite sausage for you this morning, Trey.'

'Great.' I could already smell breakfast. I'd only eaten hospital food in hospital portions for three days.

Recker wasn't rabid. None of the men around had ever heard anything like what happened to me.

'Usually that happens with a chained up dog. He just reverts to something wild.' Archie was the best stock man around and he knew dogs, too. 'Course, all dogs are wolves in their blood.'

The local vet, Dr Leon, thought Recker had developed tick fever. But years later he came across another story very similar. A dog had disappeared into the woods for a few hours. He returned to his kennel and tore his mistresses femoral artery when she came out to greet him. She bled to death on route to hospital. The police found evidence that the dog had made contact with a brush wolf, a dog-coyote hybrid and probably mated with him. 'Sometimes it just takes a few hours contact with savagery or evil to be tainted. Perhaps Recker made contact with something like a brush wolf.'

I was thankful not to have to undergo treatment for rabies. Wren detailed the entire gory procedure. Pippin begged her to stop scaring Brother but Wren poo-poohed her concerns and carried on right to the last excruciating shot.

Chores were too hard for me. I felt weak and it took me twice as long to measure out grain and put hay before Jennette and Gwen 3. I carried water by the half pail instead of a full pail in each hand. It was near school time when I'd finished.

'I'll drive you to school, Trey.'

There was never a question I would not go. Although Uncle Lou derided much of the nonsense which passed for education, he knew that persevering through pain and obstacles built up and shored up good character.

'James said it in the Good Book. Be thankful for tough times.' My Uncle Lou always quoted scripture in his own words but he always got the essence of the verse.

At school, I got sort of a hero's welcome. Coach Foote met me at the door and inspected my arm.

'You think you can hang onto a ball?'

'He's gonna try, Coach.' My Uncle Lou had followed me in to give the official excuse for my absence to the secretary.

'Yes, I think I will be okay for the game Friday.'

'Miss Cotrelle was right about you.'

The words Miss Cotrelle had the usual affect on me. I was speechless.

Coach Foote studied me hard. 'Relapse or something, Trey?'

I shook my head.

'She said you were as tough as they come.'

I suppose if a head could explode mine would have right then. I was passing cloud nine and I stayed buoyed up until lunch time when Miss Cotrelle told me exactly what she told coach.

'Dad said you were tough or stupid.' Still, she spoke to me and I lived on that for a few days.

Things were bleak. The malaise which followed JFK's assassination matched the grey weather. I missed most of the television reports for the simple reason that Uncle Lou never owned a TV. He never listened to radio news.

'It's not bad enough that things are bad. They gotta upset everyone telling them about it. And every hour at that.'

But Uncle Lou got the daily paper and read it cover to cover.

'How's this different than radio news?'

'How's it different? What they teach you at school, Trey? It's different because I gotta search this stuff out. I ain't ambushed out the ether by some lip flapper.'

Like I said, I didn't see much of JFK assassination news until years later because we didn't have a TV then, but it was hard to avoid everything. One of the teachers had brought in a set from home. We watched the funeral and little John saluting the caisson as it passed.

Mom and Uncle Lou went to buy a TV the next week, but had to wait two weeks longer to actually get a set. 'I'll have to put you on a list. I've sold five sets since this awful thing. It's been great for business!'

The first thing we saw on our TV was It's a Wonderful Life. It became our family movie. A fine irony.

Some of the women teachers wept and we aired our fears about what would happen now that the president was dead. Of course, the world went on. I had chores and a little sister who was ahead of me intellectually, a torn up arm, a mother who cried at night, and a father who had the very devil in him, as my Nana said. But I also had Uncle Lou and Aunt Ella.

Honestly, I hadn't paid much attention to the Kennedys. Mr Liepmann, my history teacher thought the First Lady was a Babylonian whore. He didn't say this in class but at his house. He'd invited some of the boys over to see his new rifle, a Weatherby .300 magnum.

'This would have killed Kennedy and the limousine.'

Mr Liepmann had a theory that central bankers had killed Kennedy. 'The one good idea JFK ever had was to get rid of the central bank and they kill him for it. A foolish notion to upset the Rothschild family, I suppose.'

I responded to his comment about Mrs Kennedy. 'I think she's just a beautiful and shallow woman who has come to realize that all she has is beauty.'

'That almost sounds like it comes from experience, Trey.'

Later, Mrs Kennedy referred to JFK's time in office as Camelot and it had now passed. She sounded detached as if she were saying good-bye to a stranger. But I think she was saying farewell to her childhood dream or, perhaps, to the pinnacle of her beauty and power.

After school that Monday, Uncle Lou said I needed to work on making my left hand more useful.

'What do you mean?'

'You can't write or throw with your left hand can you?'

'No.'

'Now's the time to practise. When your right hand is weak.'

My Uncle Lou tossed the ball to me. And we went out behind the summer kitchen where the snow was always lightest, the drifts being held back by a line of blue spruce.

'Imagine throwing with your right hand.'

I thought about it. 'Now what?'

'Think about it while you are tossing the ball with your left hand.'

I tried and the first throw was girlish but the ball had some spin on it.

'Not bad. Step, rotate hips then shoulders, arm follows. If you get confused, fake a right hand throw.'

I tossed the ball a second time and it felt better. My Uncle Lou picked up the ball. 'Good, that's enough for today. Doc Cotrelle was right about you.'

'Tough or stupid?'

'Uh? Naw, he said you were one of the toughest kids he'd ever known. Where'd you get that tough or stupid stuff?'

'Cali.'

'What'd you say to that?' He saw in my demeanour exactly what my response was. 'That girl still has you jangled, uh?'

Jangled was the word and she would jangle me for a lot longer. I was only fourteen and had a lifetime of jangling to come and a lot of that jangling came from the Mistress of Jangle, Miss Cali Cotrelle.

My Uncle Lou and I did most of our talking while recreating, as he put it. That meant a game of some kind. Chores were to be done contemplatively. Good for man and beast, Uncle Lou would say. Hunting and fishing, likewise. Soak up God's creation! Talk during all the other jobs, welding, carpentry, machining and the like, was usually instructive and technical. But during the ball throwing and skating on the pond, we talked about life and stuff, as Uncle Lou would put it.

One January day, in the winter after Recker's attack, we were headed back from felling firewood trees and we stopped by Yella Crick for a little rest. The creek was frozen clear and smooth. We took some long dead maple sticks and skimming them over the ice and whole creek rang like chimes. My right arm was healing and I threw left-handed quite easily now.

'We'll come back after lunch and skate all the way to Archie's. Call Janny.'

'He's going to Detroit with Laura-Jo.'

'She's a wild 'un. Comes by it naturally, though. I knew her mother, Carla Epplette.'

'Janny says she's not that wild.'

'She's older than Janny, isn't she?'

'She drives. I think she's seventeen.'

'It's different for a woman. For a man it's like eating or taking a crap. Mating's in a man's blood.'

My Uncle Lou wasn't going to give me a birds and the bees story. Every farm kid knows about how babies and calves are made. Even though we AI'd our cows, we took our sows and ewes to Archie's for breeding. I'd even seen whitetail mating, so this wasn't going to be about biology.

'Are you talking about sex, Uncle Lou? Cause I already know.'

'Those blessed idiots down the road have to be pried apart. No one has to learn about mating. A chicken's got no more brains than a scrambled egg and yet...'

The blessed idiots who were down the road was a reference to the poor souls at Cedar Springs Psychiatric Hospital. Forty years or more ago, it was accepted that some people were idiots and needed looking after. Today, we are so ashamed of them we integrate them and re-label them, hoping they will disappear.

'...we still have scrambled eggs.'

'Exactly. It's not about parts lining up or even the distance between parts, not real distance, anyway. It's about feelings distance.'

'Feelings distance?'

'Yeah. Like this thing with Cali.'

'She thinks I'm a blessed idiot.'

'And you think she walks on water.'

'So, how do I shorten up the feelings distance?'

'Understand that it's different for women. For them it's like... buying a truck.'

'Are we still talking about sex and what not, Uncle Lou?'

'Yeah. Men eat and crap naturally. Don't need to think about it. But buying a truck requires thought. What kind of truck? What am I gonna be hauling? Half-ton? Three-quarter ton? Diesel? There's a heap of thinking.'

'So before women mate they think about all the options before going ahead.'

'Yeah, except...'

'Except?'

'I'm not sure that they actually think about it. It's more like something in their blood.'

'I thought it was in a man's blood, too?'

'It is. I think women have a different something in their blood. It makes them cautious.'

'Some aren't cautious enough.' I was thinking about Mom, of course.

My Uncle Lou nodded slowly. 'Some are just unlucky.'

I was going to ask about shortening the distance, feeling distance or otherwise, between Cali and me, but the moment had passed. I picked up another stick and slung it side arm low over the ice and waited to hear the clear chimes echo but it landed on a thin spot and broke through. I sighed, disappointed.

'Maybe we'll work in the shop instead. I've got an interesting project for you.'

I nodded with feigned enthusiasm though I felt a despair which would plague me all my teen years, and longer, that I would never be able to shorten the distance between Cali and me.

I was glum during lunch. People often say they'd like to be kids again. They forget about the feelings of doubt and fears of rejection and the manic-depressive rush of hormones.

'Did I scorch the soup?'

'No, Aunt Ella.'

She felt my forehead. 'Are you feeling well? I'll make you a hot lemonade with honey.'

After lunch, we went out to the shop. My Uncle Lou produced a couple of staves of bois d'arc wood and a drawing of a strange hunting bow. It had two limbs, a shorter one stacked on top of a longer one. The main bow and the shorter bow were joined at both tips by a string under tension. The bow was strung in the normal manner.

'It's a Penobscot Indian bow. The short back bow strengthens the pull of the main bow.'

I studied the drawing. 'The draw weight is adjustable, right?'

'Exactly! And we can build the main bow lighter for the same draw weight. It's a nice piece of engineering and it's more than 500 years old.'

'The won't have as much string follow either.'

My Uncle Lou mussed my hair and laughed. 'What do you think, Trey? Build it for deer season?'

'Sure!'

We spent a couple of hours pencilling the outlines of the limbs onto the staves by transferring width and thickness measurements from Uncle Lou's drawing.

'We'll do the roughing out tomorrow. Time for coffee.'

Aunt Ella met us at the back door. 'That lemonade worked!' She felt my forehead again. 'You're feeling much better.'

Oddly, I was.

'Busy hands, Trey.'

'Yes, Uncle Lou. Lemonade helps, too.'

'Yep.' He kissed Aunt Ella and patted her bum. 'And a good woman helps, too. A good woman can't stop being a help.'

'It's in their blood?'

'Exactly.'

That night I sat in the darkness of our front room. Mom had gone to bed early. Wren was studying at the kitchen table. Little Pippin called out in her sleep a few times for Daddy. Everything was normal. Normal as hell.

Over the next couple of days, I shaped and tillered the bow with a draw knife. I rubbed the bow with tung oil until it glowed and then I twisted up a Flemish string from linen cord and waxed it with bee's wax.

Uncle Lou was impressed. He hefted the bow. 'Nice balance.'

'I used the fish scales, it's set to draw 55 pounds at my full draw.'

'Maybe, you should consider engineering.'

'I just followed your diagrams and instructions.'

With all the building and fixing that I did growing up, It might seem that I should have gone into engineering but I actually spent more time looking after stock, from birthing to hanging in the cold cellar, to final cut up and stash in the freezer.

I knew cattle, hog, and sheep anatomy very well. In fact, I worked summers from the time I was 12 at Archie's farm doing injections and wormings, treating the cuts and scrapes and fly bites which afflict cattle on a very regular basis. I'd doctored bloat and prolapsed rectums in sheep and A-I'd cattle for Uncle Lou and Archie.

Artificial Insemination is a delicate operation which surprises every one who has seen a bull breed a cow. Most bulls weigh close to a ton at their first breedings at about three years. Their weight increases yearly until they pass their prime at 15 or 16. A Holstein bull could outweigh a cow by a thousand pounds, too great a difference to be safe.

I was not an ideal candidate for the job. Weight lifting had bulked my arms up from wrist to bicep. A slender arm is easier on the cow and that translates into faster inseminating. But Archie's operation was fairly small. Forty milking Ayrshires.

Archie always looked disgusted with the whole affair.

'It used to be so simple. Now you got a trunk full of gee-gaws. It ain't very nacheral.'

Very true. Some inseminators use only the glove. But I always suited up in full rain gear. I modified the jacket by slicing off the left sleeve. Of course, Archie meant was all we did we turn the bull loose.

'Trey, that's a ten dollar jacket you're carving up like a Christmas turkey.' Archie couldn't watch the destruction of anything. 'Building up stuff is hard enough.'

Archie restrained the cow in a clamp and stacked two four inch thick pine boards from the hocks down to prevent kicking.

Once I was suited up in rain gear and rubber arm-length glove on my left arm, I washed the cow's rectum and vulva with very warm water and pure Ivory soap. Then I rinsed with clean warm water. I used two fresh buckets of water for each cow.

After massaging the anus, not the vulva, to relax the muscles, I slipped my hand in and slide it along the floor of the rectum. I tied the tail to an overhead bar so it didn't get contaminated by the crap that slides along the top of your left arm. If a cow isn't relaxed, her rectum will try to expel your arm, too. You really must push to stay in place when that happens.

'Push on my left shoulder, Archie.'

Archie wrinkled his nose, but he pushed. 'I long for the good old days.'

'Arch, you kept a bull all year for forty cows. That's expensive.'

'Actually, I only had twenty-five cows.'

'There you go.'

Once the crap is expelled, you push the floor of the rectum with the thumb and forefinger around the cervix. It's elastic like a balloon! Now you insert the insemination gun, being careful to stay off the vaginal floor for about eight inches to miss the urethra and gall bladder. The rumen of cattle displace the vagina and uterus about 30 degrees to the right. In fact, the entire reproductive tract can get moved around a surprising distance. And the vagina invaginates easily, hence the name, that is it develops folds and wrinkles which must be smoothed out. A bull does this all instinctively.

Now slowly push the gun needle toward the cervix. With luck the needle hits the opening and, after threading in past two valve-like obstructions, a few millilitres of semen is deposited in the uterus.

Slowly withdraw gun and arm. Wash up and then repeat.

It's more complicated than this, of course.

The old timers, ones older than Archie would call Doc Leon's office and ask for the vet to come see-to the cow. Doc Leon's secretary was a perky young girl named Talmadge. She was modern and more straight forward than the old-timers thought proper in a young woman.

'I need the vet to come see-to the cow.'

Talmadge wanted to be sure the old-timer didn't want the doc because of mastitis, which also required a vet to see-to a cow. Talmadge took a stab in the dark.

'Do you mean you want a cow bred?'

'If you are going to talk dirty, I'll just have a bull do it!'

I A-I-ed cows from the time I was thirteen. Miss Graber my high school teacher nearly fainted when I wrote about it for my What I did this Summer essay. The job combined medicine and engineering technology, so it was perfect for me. And it paid well, too.

Uncle Lou was pleased with my progress with AI. 'Doc and Archie tell me you're the best in the township.'

'I'm just careful and I try to learn more each time.'

'Do you keep records?'

'Yes, Uncle Lou.'

Uncle Lou was big on keeping records. He used file cards because Aunt Ella found a huge box of them for sale when the township moved its office.

If someone called for a car repair, he already had the car's serial number, in case he needed to order a part. All his wagon plans were sketched on file cards with dimensions. The lay out of his garden was on a file card.

I followed his lead but put my notes into a spiral bound notebook, rather than loose file cards. Archie insisted I copy the info in another book to leave on the farm.

Renwick hadn't grown in a hundred years but that didn't mean changes weren't happening. Chestnuts and elms disappeared then many song-birds got scarce. But when I was about 16, things took an upturn.

coyotes

About 1965, hunters, and then farmers, started reporting coyotes in the area. At first no one believed the reports. Coyotes were never part of the wildlife here. But the sightings were soon verify by dead livestock and dead coyotes. A hunter dropped off a large coyote at Archie's. I put it on the stock scale and it weighed 70 pounds.

'I don't think it's a coyote. Not pure anyway, Archie. Too big and the nose isn't right, too blunt.'

'You sound like Doc Leon. You ain't gonna charge me, are you, Trey?'

The wildlife people took the carcase and they said it was a coyote-dog cross. Folks in the area started calling them brush wolves. Farmers started calling them other names. They were smart as coyotes and as large as farm dogs. They could wipe out a hen house in minutes and three of them could take down 700 pound cattle. Sheep might as well have been served up on platters for them. And even worse, they drew good farm dogs into their packs.

Fortunately, a huge explosion of the whitetail population was about to occur, siphoning off part of the potential for damage to livestock. Another answer to prayer and strangely though the brush wolves became more numerous, so did whitetail.

But for the time being, there were lots of bite wounds and lame cattle to attend to.

'I'm thinking of putting a scrub bull in pasture with the cows.'

'That will foul up your breeding program, sir.'

'Yeah, but if these wolves damage and chase the breeders, it'll be fouled up anyway. But, in the whole, I think you're talking sense, Trey. You considered going to Ridgetown?'

Ridgetown Agricultural College was just 40 miles down the highway. Lots of grads went there and came back and tried to apply their learning. Most of the old farmers resisted.

'I'm accepted at med school in London.'

'Ah, well. I suppose that's a higher calling.'

'Yes, sir.' Although, thinking about it, what can be more important than food production?

'I figgered Lou would have you bent on mechanicking.'

'Well, it could happen.'

'Yeah, you never know what pitch life is going to throw you.'

The increase in white tail fired my imagination.

I spent some time with my bow at least four days a week until I left for university. I tried my hand at arrow making but didn't get consistent results, so I bought a dozen Port Orford cedar shaft arrows fletched with turkey wing and sporting single plane broad heads.

'The fletching should be curved, Trey.'

'All the arrows I've seen have straight fletching.'

'All the arrows you've seen have small target heads. But let's test the idea.'

I made some straight and some curved fletched arrows. Uncle Lou and I went out to our range near the milk shed. The straight fletched arrows seemed lethargic. The curved fletching spun the big 165 grain broadheads easily, thus creating a stable flight.'

With more experiments, I optimized the amount of curve, length and height of fletching. I also worked on two, three, and four blade broadheads. Two blade was the most efficient.

'Simple is best. Too simple is bad.' Uncle Lou maintained that God always preferred the simple design. 'Except when it comes to women!'

It took me a while to learn the extent of that particular truth.

Shooting a bow, a long bow or recurve without a sight, at least, is like throwing a ball. A pitcher or quarterback has no sighting device to aim with. He must simply bear down on the target, on a very tiny part of the target, and develop sound, reproducible mechanics, so the brain can calculate, in a nearly unconscious way, all the variables between thrower and target. I always threw to the player's hands, the edge of the palm and fingers. If I couldn't see that target, I imagined it.

The bow must be drawn with both hands, a push against the bow and a pull on the string as the bow is raised to shooting position, then the arrow is released immediately in one smooth motion. A bow held more than a few seconds at full draw loses power. And the eye starts looking for a sight picture such as the gap between the arrow tip and the target. Suddenly, we are trying to think our way through a problem which is composed of data only understood by our deep muscle sense. Our brain dismisses that input when we switch on logic mode. The pass is thrown long or short. The arrow misses the target by several feet.

Keep both eyes are open and watch only the hair over the heart, said Uncle Lou.

With practise the body learns the trajectory of the arrow and calculates the angle of your bow arm. I shot thousands of arrows that first year. By fall I was ready to hunt responsibly. I knew my weapon, my talent, and my quarry.

I hunted whitetail alone. I bagged a small buck at the edge of Archie's corn field. A plump corn-fed yearling had fallen to one of my homemade arrows from my homemade bow. I was elated. And sad. If you have to ask why, you would not understand the answer.

Another first blood.

Uncle Lou met me with the jeep along Yella Crick. He'd had a premonition that I had scored. In a way I was disappointed that I was denied the challenge of carrying the buck all the way home. But, I'd be lying if I said I wasn't nearly tuckered, as Uncle Lou would say, when I saw the jeep bouncing along the road.

'Hooo Haw! That's a nice buck, Trey.'

'I bet it went 180 on the hoof, Uncle Lou.'

He appraised the carcase, now laid on the frosted ground. 'At least. He sure chowed down a lot of Archie's corn!'

'I'm going to take Archie a roast as soon as I joint him out.'

Later that day, I walked along Yella Crick back to the corn field hide I had made from corn stalks and a few spindly oak limbs which had fallen during a big summer wind. As I crested a small rise, I saw brush wolves running off. They'd been devouring the guts I'd left after field dressing the deer. Archie would be upset that I'd drawn the varmints onto his land.

I found a branch and broke it off to make a digging stick and started scratching the ground so I could bury what remained of the stomach and intestines and musk glands I had removed a few hours earlier.

I was finishing up when I heard a shotgun boom twice. It came from near Archie's birthing shed. When I arrived, Archie was stringing up two of the brush wolves. Both head shot.

'They just came running into the yard, three of them. I got off two shots.'

'I flushed them off a gut pile. Sorry Archie, I shouldn't have left that for them.'

'You got a deer?'

'A big spike. Here's part of him for supper.'

Archie smiled. 'Don't worry about gutting deer on the property, Trey. These varmints are here anyway. Rather have them fill up on deer than cattle or sheep.'

'What are you going to do with them?'

'Skin 'em out. That's why I head-shot 'em.'

The pelts were thick and long and quite as beautiful as fox and surprisingly soft. Archie's wife turned them into big winter hats, one of which she gave to Pippin.

'She looks like Princess Anastasia in that hat, Archie.'

'Pip don't need a fur hat to look like a princess, Maw.'

Pippin caused a county wide fad for those hats.

'I'm busy all winter now running them up on my old machine, Trey. Your little sister is a trend-setter. Bless her!'

Archie's wife must have gotten that phrase off the TV.

Impressing Coach

I continued to heal up really well. My Uncle Lou continued to work with me throwing left-handed and by Christmas break I was throwing 30 yards on the numbers. I also could write passably with my left hand since Uncle Lou encouraged me to write my own school notes, much to Wren's chagrin. She'd enjoyed the couple of classes I had allowed her to sit in on.

In gym class, only three weeks after my accident, I threw a ball left-handed to Coach Foote. The ball landed with force right on his fingers.

'That's better than most of these nancies can do with their strong hand. You're a wonder, Trey. Want to try QB next season?'

'Yes, coach.'

'You can still throw right-handed?'

I gestured for the ball and I threw right handed at the basketball backboard square thirty yards away. It hit dead on and bounced back to centre court. 'Yes, but my power is down a bit. I should be ready for next season.'

'Let's keep this under wraps for a while. I don't think Coach Abode at Central needs to suspect this. A power QB! Merry Christmas to me, Trey. Thanks.'

I understood Coach Foote's reasoning but I really wanted Cali to know I would be QB next season but as it turned out, it was a good thing I kept my mouth shut. It would have been like piling on myself.

I jogged home. Wren got a lift past our place from the classics teacher, Miss Graber, who lived on a dead end lane on Archie's land. Fortunately for me, Miss Graber owned a 1953 MG-TD, a two-seater, so I never had to come up with any excuses about not wanting to ride along with them. Besides, the two mile jog each way each day was for conditioning.

I had moved out of Uncle Lou's place amid tears from Aunt Ella but Pippin was missing me and wanted to come to live with Brother and Aunt Ella. My Uncle Lou's pickup was in the drive way and had been there all afternoon judging from the bare ground under it. It had started snowing at noon. I half-thought about knocking on the door but I did make a lot of noise pretending to stumble on the stoop.

My Uncle Lou came to the door. 'Trey, be quiet. Your mother is lying down. Aunt Ella's in with her.'

I felt guilty and I started to blush. 'Did Miss Cotrelle jangle you again?'

'No. Coach Foote wants me to be QB next year. Thanks to you, Uncle Lou.'

'Me?'

'If you hadn't pushed me to develop my left hand, Coach Foote would never have noticed me.'

'I just remember playing ball with you, Trey. Isn't that what men do with... nephews.' My Uncle Lou grinned and he punched me lightly on my left shoulder. 'You did a great job, Trey. I'm leaving your aunt here.'

'What's wrong with Mom?'

My Uncle Lou shrugged. 'Maddy's been down since your accident.'

'Down?' I knew what he meant. Suppose I didn't want to deal with it.

'Depressed.'

'I hadn't noticed.' That was a little bit of a lie. I did notice that she seemed tired all the time. She'd always retired to bed early but now she was sleeping late, too. She didn't sing anymore. And she didn't get gussied up in the afternoons.

'Ella thinks she needs to see the doctor.'

'Can you talk to her? She listens to you. Take her somewhere for a holiday.'

'Trey, it's not that simple.'

'What if Aunt Ella took Wren and Pippin to Nana's?' My Uncle Lou still looked hesitant. 'I'll stay at your place and do the chores.'

I know how this sounds but I knew the only thing to pull Mom out of her blue funk was time with Uncle Lou. When she saw him ambling across the field, she'd tidy her hair and take off her apron. And she would shoo us kids away. 'Find something to do. And keep an eye on Pippin', she'd say.

'I'll suggest it to your aunt.'

'I'll get Pippin to ask to see Nana. That should get things rolling.'

'And yet, Miss Cotrelle freezes you like a jack-lighted deer.' We could hear that Wren was on the stoop. Uncle Lou put his finger to his lips. 'This is secret for now.'

Christmas invite

I called Nana as soon as Wren went to her room to finish her homework. She preferred to work there, leaving only when Pippin went to bed. Nana was excited to hear of the proposed visit, though she first protested her apartment was too small. I told her it would be like camping, but without the fire. Ha, ha, ha.

'Are you coming too, Trey?'

'I'd love to, Nana, but I have to help Uncle Lou with the farm.'

'How's this going to help Maddy, to be alone at Christmas isn't good.'

'She needs a rest, Nana. Doc Cotrelle said so.'

'Oh, Maddy didn't tell me that. Does Aunt Ella agree? Why is she coming? I mean she's welcome but...'

'Well, she doesn't want to saddle you with a lot of extra work.'

'Wren is no trouble and little Pippin is such a joy and hardly much work.'

'Aunt Ella needs a bit of a break, too. Mom's been needing a lot of help. I think Aunt Ella needs to be able to sleep in a little, too.'

'I can see that, yes it makes sense. What's Lou think about this? It will be hard on him Christmas and no wife...' I thought I heard a trace of irony in Nana's voice as it trailed off.

'He'll make the sacrifice for Mom and us kids.' Nana must have heard the irony.

'What should I do now, then?'

'Call Ella and invite her and the girls and tell her it's to help Maddy. Okay, Nana?'

'I will but you must promise to see us on Christmas Day, you and Lou and Maddy? Christmas dinner? Promise?'

'Promise.' I said good-bye and hung up, feeling a little but guilty about some half-truths but in the few days since hatching this plan, I had seen that Mom was on a downward spiral. I prayed that Dad wouldn't show up because, although I couldn't guess what would happen, I knew it wouldn't be good.

Also, I'd made a promise which would be hard to keep since I'd have to find someone to do the chores. Fortunately, the cattle were dried off for six weeks and chores amounted to feeding grain, hay and water, and gathering a few eggs. Janny was just the man.

'I'll do it. Laura-Jo is screwing off with her cousin for the holidays.'

That was aptly put since she started showing about Valentine's Day. Her old man nearly had Janny strung up by the time Laura-Jo confessed. 'It was Gene.'

'I thought Gene was a girl cousin! I never even got to feel her up!'

Laura-Jo was withdrawn from the class roster. This had happened for decades, of course, girls getting knocked up and leaving school. But those others girls left Renwick. Laura-Jo stayed on the farm and waved happily to Janny every morning as he biked to school.

Interlude

Despite my inclination to be a voyeur, I stayed on Uncle Lou's property, resisting the urge to look into, or even at, Mom's bedroom window. But I did sit for hours and looked across to the house.

One night it started to snow huge flakes, the size of tea saucers. At first, I couldn't believe my eyes. I thought perhaps it was swirling litter but there was not a breath of wind.

I wandered out and stood arms out and face up to the flakes. I was quickly covered and soaked as they melted. I was about to go back in to warm up by the stove when I heard laughter drift across from my house and so I ran nearly 150 yards closer. The laughter continued.

It was Mom, giddy and joyful as Pippin so often was. She was wrapped in a blanket, running through the flakes and spinning in and out of the porch light and the glow of the living room window.

I saw Uncle Lou, first silhouetted in that window and then, running naked out the back door through the light. He shouted Maddy, Maddy, Maddy. It sounded urgent and I felt sick but then they both spun back through the window glow, dancing perhaps. My Uncle Lou hoisted my Mom on his shoulders and he carried her shrieking back into the house and past the glowing window. In a few seconds the window stopped glowing.

The snow continued to drift down but I was shivering and puzzled. What was Mom doing? Was she shrieking in joy? Fear? Did she even know?

I started to shiver. I had come out unjacketed, in sock feet, and I was soaked to the skin. I ran back to Uncle Lou's place. I stripped by the stove and towelled off with one of Aunt Ella's dish towels and tucked into the bed I had pulled out beside the stove, still naked and damp. Through the window, I could see the huge flakes that continued to fall. My mind replayed my Mom's shrieking laughter until I fell asleep much, much later.

My Uncle Lou woke me at dawn the next morning. 'Trey, did you see the snow last night?'

'Sort of.'

'Trey, flakes as big as my palm! Never seen anything like it.'

'Did Mom like it?'

'She feeling much better, Trey.' He noticed I had not stirred from bed. 'You getting up?'

'Yes.'

'Today?'

'I'm not dressed.'

'Yeah.'

'I'm naked.'

He seemed puzzled. 'I'll start chores. I'll take you to breakfast at the diner.'

'Thanks, Uncle Lou.'

'Hurry up.'

I don't know why I felt so shy that day. My Uncle Lou and I had often skinny-dipped in Yella Crick and washed up together in the barn after mucking out stalls. But today I felt uneasy. I just hoped nothing had changed between Uncle Lou and me.

Christmas at nana's James 1:2

Nana lived in London about a hundred miles east down the road. Aunt Ella and the girls had been there for a week. My Uncle Lou and Mom and I drove up on Christmas Eve day. Mom was bright and energetic. She filled the second and third rows of seats of the Suburban with gaily wrapped presents and she kissed me full on the lips before she slipped into the passenger seat and slid across right up against Uncle Lou.

'Get in, Trey.' Mom patted the seat beside her. 'Come on, just like a real family.'

I really wanted to re-arrange the gifts a bit and stretch out in the back seat. 'It's too crowded up front, Mom.'

'Get in, Trey. Now. We are a family and it's Christmas.' A cool look came over her. 'Good boy.' I got in and she patted my thigh. 'We're going to have the best Christmas ever.'

As it turned out, she was pretty much right, but only because Dad didn't find us this Christmas. Though he left a nasty note for Mom on the front door of the house which ruined New Year's Day for her and, by extension, for the rest of us.

About ten minutes into the trip, Mom slumped onto Uncle Lou's right shoulder asleep. I roused her as we pulled into Nana's apartment parking lot.

She stretched like a cat and kissed Uncle Lou on the cheek. His eyes grew wide. I knew he was uncomfortable with her displays of affection around me and my sisters. And of course, Aunt Ella might be watching.

'Maddy, we're here. Kids, wife, mother?' Uncle Lou cocked his toward me.

'Lou, it's a Christmas kiss.' Mom turned and seemed surprised I was there. She grabbed me again and planted a very wet kiss on my lips.

'Mom, you'll get lipstick all over me.'

'Too grown up for a mother's kiss? Trey, you aren't that grown up yet.'

I almost sent that remark right back at her but Uncle Lou's look cautioned me.

'I'll get the big stuff and carry it up.'

Nana's apartment had two tiny bedrooms, one bathroom, a living room and galley kitchen. Mom and Nana would sleep in one bedroom and the girls and Aunt Ella, in the other, Uncle Lou and I would sleep in the living room. I had packed my sleeping bag so I could sleep on the floor. My Uncle Lou bunked on the couch.

Besides being crowded, the place was hot, not just warm. It was electrically heated and smelled of burnt wiring when it didn't smell of burnt cooking. Not from Nana but from someone down the hall, where smoke so often roiled from under the door, that no one bothered to call the fire department any longer.

'Are you sure it's safe, Nana?'

'They're just scorching Christmas dinner. Every time the menu is more complicated than macaroni and cheese, it's the Great Fire of London.'

'I'd like to pound on the door and tell them they're gagging the rest of us.'

'It won't do any good, Trey. They're as deaf as posts.'

Well, at least the smoke gave me an excuse to open the windows which brought the temperature down to about 80 degrees, which was still too darn warm for me, though every one else thought it felt summery.

Wren and Pippin helped me carry up the packages from the Suburban. Mom and the girls arranged the gifts under the tree which as yet was undecorated.

'We waited for you, Mom.' Pippin held a box of ornaments. 'We wanted you to help us decorate Nana's tree.'

Mom looked regal surrounded by the girls, Nana and Aunt Ella who clutched Uncle Lou's hand as though one of them was over-hanging a precipice.

'My favourite thing. And we will sing carols.'

'Even Brother and Uncle Lou?'

'Yes, Angel Pippin. Even Trey and Uncle Lou.'

'And Daddy?'

Mom's face went dark.

'When Dad shows up, he'll sing with Trey and Uncle Lou, Pippin.'

'Are you sure Aunt Ella? I don't 'member Daddy singing.'

'Who wants shortbread cookies and hot coco?'

Pippin smiled. Even at four years old, Pippin's smile lit up rooms. And distracted everyone from almost everything else. So we quickly forgot about Dad and disasters in general and had shortbreads and coco while we decorated the prettiest tree in Christendom.

About three in the afternoon Aunt Ella advanced the idea of Christmas eve services.

'Where is the Church?'

'Church?' Nana wasn't much on churches, except for weddings and funerals and bingo. 'It's not Sunday. Is it?'

'We never miss Christmas Eve services, Belle.'

'There's a place around the corner. I play bingo there.'

'That would be Roman Catholic, Nana.'

'They celebrate Christmas, don't they, Trey?'

'Nana, Roman Catholics don't believe in the mediative role of Jesus.'

My Uncle Lou burst out laughing. 'Wren, where do you read these things?'

'Pope Pius XXIII wrote about it.'

My Uncle Lou shook his head in disbelief. 'I thought you were a mathematician.'

'Uncle Lou, she's an everything-a-tician.'

'Thanks, Trey!' Wren smiled and peered over her reading glasses at me.

'Okay, so where are we going for services?' Aunt Ella sounded worried that we had gotten off the topic.

'There's Baby Jesus near the grocery store.' Pippin pointed toward the parking lot.

Nana clutched Pippin in a big hug. 'Pippin, you're right. That's a baptist church. Mrs Kinney down the hall is always inviting me to go.'

'The scorchers?'

'No, Trey, I told you those people are stone deaf.'

'Well, they could be baptists, too.'

'They could, but how the hell would she tell me that?'

We made a pretty good representation of a family at church considering the various entanglements. During the introductions, the pastor mistook me for my Aunt Ella's son.

'Oh no Pastor, Trey is Maddy's boy.'

'Oh yes and Lou is her husband. The girls are yours?'

'I'm their aunt. I'm everyone's aunt.'

'Merry Christmas.'

We stifled a laugh as we made our way to the empty pews at the front of the church.

Pippin Mom Lou Ella Wren and me then, Nana.

'I want to be on the end.'

'Okay, Nana.'

'In case I get incontinent.'

'Do you know where the cans are, Nana?'

'A long way from here, I would suppose. I shouldn't have had that last bottle of wine.'

People behind us were listening and I told Nana to lower her voice.

'I know they're listening. Should I say something about the body?'

'What body?'

'The one in the trunk?'

'Nana, stop. This is Christmas and we're in a church.'

'All that's obvious.'

'Nana, be respectful.'

'I will if you promise to be nice to my parole officer, next time.'

The people behind stiffened. I slumped down in the pew.

'Well, do you promise, Trey?'

'Promise.' With that Nana pinched my thigh, hard. 'Merry Christmas.'

The service was simple and very moving. Nana stopped kidding around and sang the carols in a clear voice. I wondered if her parents knew she would sing such pure notes when they named her Belle.

As we filed out, the people sitting behind came up and introduced themselves.

'We're Elva and Alfred Self. We couldn't help but hear. If you need some help, Alfred was with the department for many years.'

'Department?'

'Parole Services. We know it can be difficult...'

'I don't...'

'It's all right Uncle Lou, Nana and I were talking about parole. Just out of the blue.'

'Oh, I'm sorry. I misunderstood. You must think I'm so nosey.'

'Not at all. Not at all, right Nana?'

'No. You were very gracious to offer to help.'

There were Merry Christmases all round. Both of them kissed Pippin and then Wren because they'd made such a fuss over the little angel it would have been positively un-Christian not to fuss over the boyish little girl with scraggily hair and big glasses. As they were leaving, Alfred slipped his business card into my hand which I put into my jeans.

'Nice people.' Nana sounded genuine and none of us contradicted her.

Pippin was asleep when we got back to Nana's but she immediately awoke as Uncle Lou placed her on the bed.

'Is is Christmas?'

'Not yet, Angel.'

Mom came in and started undressing Pippin. 'Mom, can I open a present?'

'It's not Christmas, yet, Pippin.'

'What if something happens?'

I thought that was a good question. 'Yeah, what if something happens?'

'Trey, you're not helping.'

'Yeah, what if something happens?'

Mom started laughing. 'Not you too, Lou? All right, one gift. One small gift.'

Pippin shot off the bed and raced out, shirtless, to the Christmas tree. We all followed and Mom handed out a little gift to each of us. I got a pair of pair of socks, so did Uncle Lou, pink ones. Pippin got a tiny doll which she could have swallowed, I suppose, but she clutched it to her heart and instantly called it Angelina. Wren got a dictionary and I quipped, oh darn she's already read it. Nana got some bath salts and Aunt Ella got a cigar which she traded to Uncle Lou for his pink socks. My Uncle Lou gave Mom a large chocolate orange.

We hugged each other just like a normal family and Merry Christmassed everyone and went to bed. In an hour everyone was sleeping, except me. It was still too hot. I pushed the window open as wide as it would go. I peered out. Below was a thick low cedar bushes and piled up snow from the parking lot. I laid my sleeping bag out as close as I could to the faint breeze which made its way into the room.

As I was nodding off, my nostrils wrinkled with the smell of smoke. The scorchers were at it again. Nana's luminescent kitchen clock indicated quarter to two. Early start for the turkey. It must be a fifty pounder or something. I closed my eyes but the smoke became stronger. I peeked out into the hall and it was full of smoke. Rolling, hot smoke. It wasn't just dinner burning either.

'Fire, Fire.'

My Uncle Lou shot out of bed and woke up Aunt Frieda and the girls and shouted to Maddy and Nana.

'Maddy, Ella, fire.'

I grabbed hold of Nana and started out the door and down the hallway but the flames already blocked the way to the stairs.

'We gotta go back.' We ran back to the apartment. 'Uncle Lou, we have to get out the windows.'

We were on the second floor and the drop would be cushioned by the low cedar bushes and piled up snow. Thank God for small miracles.

'Trey, you go first. I'll lower everyone else down to you.'

I jumped out the window and twisted by right arm. Uncle Lou lowered Wren first. Then Pippin, who dropped about five feet into my arms. Wren took her to the Suburban. Next was Aunt Ella, then Mom and finally Nana. Each shock ripped through my arm like Recker's jaws all over again and I howled in pain. My Uncle Lou dropped only after he cleared me away.

'I'm too heavy to catch, Trey. Might ruin that arm forever.'

People were shouting and jumping from the second storey windows. My Uncle Lou and I pulled people from first storey windows and caught two young boys and poodle from a second storey window. Most of the people were out of the building as the fire engines were arriving. Half of the building was already engulfed.

We watched from the Suburban which Uncle Lou had driven back from the building, starting the car with spare keys he'd wrapped in electricians tape and wired to the inside of the rear bumper.

For a while it looked as if Nana's place would escape damage and we just as we started to believe our gifts would be saved, the firemen blew the windows out with 100 pound hoses and destroyed almost everything in Nana's little apartment.

'Merry Christmas, family.'

'We're sorry, Nana.'

'That's why I have insurance! We're all safe, thank God.' Nana gripped my arm and I yelped.

'Let's look at your arm, Trey.'

'It's just twisted, Uncle Lou.'

My Uncle Lou inspected my arm. 'I think the medics should see this.'

The ER doctor said it was a very bad sprain.

'Rest it completely. I'll give you something to keep the swelling down.'

My Uncle Lou placed a hand on my shoulder. 'Merry Christmas.'

'That's quite an injury you just had.'

'Dog bite.'

'Some dog.'

'I never should have kept that dog, Trey. I'm sorry.'

Out in the waiting room Mom and Pippin were sleeping. Aunt Ella and Wren were solving a crossword puzzle and Nana was sipping coffee.

'How are you, Trey, honey?'

'Fine, Aunt Ella.' I think she didn't completely believe me but she didn't press me.

'Merry Christmas. Now where are we going?'

'Don't you know someone in town?'

'Yeah, plenty of them. Mrs Kinney for instance but she just got burned out of her home, too. I hope she made it out! Did anyone see her?'

'Nana, we never met her. Anyone else? Anyone?'

'It's hard to trust anyone in the city.'

'Great.' The only thing I had of my own was my jeans. Then I remembered the business card. 'Let's give Elva and Alfred a call.'

'Who?'

'The folks from church.'

'How?'

'He slipped me a card. He thought you would need some help with your parole, Nana.'

'My parole? I told him you were on parole.'

'He saw through that, Nana.'

Alfred and Elva

The Selfs lived in a three bedroom cottage on tree-lined Apeldoorn Crescent. It was small but delightfully smoke and fire free. Alfred came in his Chevy Belaire four-door to lead us to his place. He was afraid we'd get lost otherwise. Both he and Elva seemed happy that we had awakened them at five Christmas morning. 'It's just like having the kids back home.'

Elva had sleeping places arrange and we crashed and slept until about 10 am, then had breakfast.

'It's very kind of you to put up with all of us, Elva.' Aunt Ella was teary eyed.

'Ella, it's all for God's glory.'

'Yes. We were blessed to escape with our lives.'

'The radio said two people died.'

'Did they say deaf people?'

'I think they did. Yes, Belle, I think so. Deaf people.'

'They lived next door.'

Alfred led Elva and Nana in a prayer. We sat silent for a while, not knowing what to say.

'What are you plans, Lou?'

'Finish breakfast and head back home.'

'Home? My word, I haven't got one!'

'Nana, you're coming with us.'

Nana took a tissue and blew her nose. 'I just wanted to hear it, Lou. Why couldn't you... Well, I'll start clearing up. Maddy make sure the girls go pee.'

On the way home, Pippin asked about the presents.

'What was in the packages, Mom? The big shiny red one.'

Mom thought a moment. 'It was the thing you wanted for Christmas.'

'No, it wasn't that, Mom.'

'How do you know?'

'Daddy's too big for that box.'

'What did you want, Nana?'

'To spend some time with you girls, Wren.'

'Too bad, you had to lose your home and all your stuff, Nana.'

'I didn't lose any of you, though. So it is a Merry Christmas, anyway.'

So that's how Nana came to live with us.

easter bunny mar 29 1964

Nana took over household chores and quickly organized the house. She taught Wren to prepare chicken and pork chops and beef roast. She taught Pippin to make the beds.

'I'm going to be a professor of mathematics and logic, Nana.'

'Honey-pie, unless you're prepared to die a spinster you need to know how to cook. Doesn't matter if you become professor of everything, your man will expect his hunger to be satisfied.'

'Mom doesn't cook a lot, Nana. Is that why dad left?'

'He has hungers he can't satisfy, Wren.'

'Is that Mom's fault?'

'It's always the woman's fault, Honey-pie.'

'That's not fair!'

Pippin ran into the room, sobbing. 'Nana, am I the Angel of Death?' I suppose this was too far from event to be

Nana dropped to her knees and held Pippin by the arms. 'Where did you hear that?'

'A man on TV said there's an Angel of Death.' Pippin started to sob. 'Everyone calls me Angel.'

'Pippy, you are the Good Angel.'

Pippin ceased her sobbing. 'Why doesn't Daddy come home?'

Nana was non-plussed at the change of thought. Nana pulled Pippin close and looked up quizzically at me.

'Does Daddy know I'm a Good Angel?'

'Yes, Pippin, he knows.'

I was sure Dad knew and that's why he didn't stick around.

'Then we better make him a cake. He's going to come for Easter.'

'Pippy, that was just a dream you had.'

'No, Dad's coming. I heard him. He said he was coming to get his little Angel. That's me.'

'I'll eat the cake if he doesn't come, Nana.'

Nana got up from her knees. 'Oh, I'm too old for this.'

'Knees bothering you, Nana?'

'Blood problems, Wren.'

'Should I call Doctor Cotrelle?'

'Is he a shrink?'

'No.'

'Then he won't be able to help me.'

Wren and I exchanged a look. Was Nana going nuts, too? Of course, the blood problems referred to family. But I only came to that conclusion years later.

Nana hoisted Pippin and kissed her little angel bow lips. 'Let's bake a cake. Wren, get a big roast out of the freezer. If your father's coming he might as well have a meal to remember.' As she left for the kitchen she called back over her shoulder. 'Maddy! Wake up! Trey, get your mother out here. I'm not putting on the ritz for Dell without help.'

'Yes, sir.' I pretended to snap to attention. Pippin blew me a kiss as she jounced on Nana's shoulder.

Inexplicably, Mom was excited about helping though she spent the time showering and picking out something to wear. She called Aunt Ella who came over to fix her hair.

'Maddy, you are beautiful. Naturally beautiful. You don't need to spend all this energy on yourself.'

'Oh Mother, it's so hard to be perfect.'

'Who asked you to be perfect?'

'He expects it.'

'Oh well, then.'

I left to see Uncle Lou. Only trouble and work for me at home. At Uncle Lou's there be something useful to do.

'Ella went over. Anything wrong?'

'No. Pippin convinced everyone that Dad's going to show up. They're baking cakes and Aunt Ella's fixing Mom's hair.'

'Is Dell coming?'

'Uncle Lou, you know Pippin has these dreams all the time.'

'Yeah. What kind of cake?'

'Don't know, but they're cooking a roast, too.'

Uncle Lou laid out the chassis pieces of a tobacco wagon he was building for a man who lived near Port Alma, about fifteen miles down the road, while I measured gussets and cut them with a power hacksaw from three-eights mild plate.

'Uncle Lou, why does Mom spend so much time getting ready for things? She's beautiful already.'

'She thinks she has nothing but beauty.'

'But Aunt Ella's pretty. She doesn't take hours and hours with make up and stuff.'

'Ella spends a lot of time making things as perfect as she can for others.'

'Because she thinks of herself as a loving person?'

'Yep. She gets up early, so the coffee's ready, drives to Agatha's place, even though driving terrifies her, to buy sausage for your breakfast.'

'She does that?'

'You thought it appeared in the fridge like magic?'

'I didn't know she got it special for me.'

'Yep, she spends hours getting things ready for other people.'

'But Mom only spends time on herself.'

'The world loves a beautiful woman, Trey. She prepares herself for the world. Look at the way even strangers treat our little heart-breaker.'

'I pray Pippin handles it better than Mom.'

'Pray she doesn't met a man like Dell.'

'Mom's been watching those crackpot preachers on TV. Pippin thinks she's the Good Angel.'

'I'll speak to Maddy.'

'She's this way because you don't see her enough.' I shocked myself. 'Sorry.'

'Let's clean up. I'm out of mild rod. I'll pick some up at Grant's and weld this up next week.'

'I shouldn't have said that, Uncle Lou.'

'Why not? It's the truth, Trey. It's complicated and ugly but it's the truth. And I'm chained to it.'

And I keep reading that truth is simple, beautiful, and liberating. That hasn't been my experience.

dinner guest

The table was set and of course, Pippin insisted that Daddy was coming and, thus, needed a place set at the head of the table.

At half-past-five, Nana announced dinner but Pippin protested.

'Not yet, Nana.' Pippin continued staring out the window.

At six, Nana asked Pippin if she could serve supper.

'Yes, Nana, I see Daddy's car coming down the road.

I looked out and indeed a car was coming. 'It might be Archie.'

'With the plough points.'

The car turned into the lane way. 'Yep, it's Arch. Pippin, honey, Daddy might not be coming today.'

'No, Uncle Lou, he's here.'

'Pippin, you can't...'

'Daddy!' Pippin ran to the back door. There was Archie and his plough points. And Dad.

'Thanks, Arch. I'll get Lou to look at the car in the morning.'

'Good to see you again, Dell.' Archie then said his good byes.

Pippin jumped into Daddy's arms even before he got fully into the house. She kissed him. 'I knew you were coming, Daddy.'

'Couldn't disappoint my little angel, could I?' He looked us over. 'Where's Maddy?'

Mom had held back. 'Dell?' She sounded as if she thought he was an apparition.

Dad motioned for her to come to him and she moved forward gathering momentum from some emotional gravitation. She fell into his arms and appeared overcome. What was the hold he had over her?

Uncle Lou shook his head and smiled a crooked doubtful smile. 'We're about to say grace.'

Dad winked at Aunt Ella. 'I smell your famous chocolate cake.'

Wren squeezed my hand. She whispered. 'I smell whisky.'

'Pippy and Nana are responsible for the meal today, Dell.'

'You always had a nose for free food.' Nana waved a large meat fork in the direction of the table. 'Come in and sit.'

Pippin had entangled her self around Mom and Dad. 'I set this place for you, Daddy and Mommy and me in the middle!'

'Angel eyes, you are wonderful!' Dad kissed her repeatedly and then kissed Mom again, primly, I thought.

'You have two other fine kids, Dell.'

'I know, Nana, but I only have two hands.'

'Both held out looking for something.'

'No, no. Not even you are going to ruin my return home. Trey and Wren come sit close to your Dad. Come.'

The words return home jolted through Wren. Her hand tensed and then slid from mine and slapped her thigh.

I was steeling myself for an eruption. Uncle Lou never took his eyes off Dell and Mom. Aunt Ella kept close to Wren and me.

Uncle Lou bowed his head. 'Dear God, we ask your blessing upon this house and all of us here gathered in your name. If the way is steep, give us strength, if the way is long, give us endurance, if the way is dangerous, give us courage, but always give us thankfulness and the peace so we may feel Your Holy presence, in the name of Jesus. Amen.'

'That was beautiful, Lou.'

'Dell is right. That was beautiful, Lou.' Mom did not turn from Dell.

'Daddy, you could say a grace that beautiful, too.'

'Thank you for saying that, Angel, but God made people with different talents and my brother's talent is being thankful for things. Sometimes for things that aren't even his.'

'Don't start, Dell.'

'When were kids, Lou used to give thanks for trees and sunshine and pheasants...all kinds of things that weren't his but just made him happy.'

'What's your talent, Dell?'

'Picking out a woman who had a wonderful mother, Nana.' Dell forked a morsel of beef into his mouth. 'Mmmmmm and a pretty damn good cook.'

'Daddy, you shouldn't say that word.'

'Angel, everyone, I'm sorry. Forgive me. Ella, will you forgive me?'

'Yes, Dell.'

'Nana?'

'You are forgiven. Just drop it now.'

'Dropped.'

And it was. Like that. Just like that. What had happened to our Dad? The man who worried everything to death, shaking the life out of everything like a ratter bearing down on a rat's neck. Who invented slights, and then avenged them, and never, never, let things be forgotten.

'Dad, where have you been?'

'More like, where haven't I been, sonny-boy. I'm selling veterinary medicines. Big time! Mostly to the horsemen in sulky racing.'

'Oh Dell! That sounds like a profession!'

'Maddy, the money is good. Big time good.'

'Maddy and the kids' portion hasn't arrived yet.'

'Nana, I didn't want to trust the mail.'

'I bet.'

Dad stood up and pulled a huge roll of cash from his pocket. 'Four thousand dollars.'

At the time, that would have bought a new Corvette and insured it for a year. Uncle Lou reached over and inspected the bills. Most were hundreds. I'd only seen two in my whole life up till then.

'I'd say they're real. Do we need to hide this?'

'Why?'

'Are the police going to come busting in here?'

'I earned it. I told you, selling horse medicine. Maddy, Angel, you believe me, don't you?'

'I believe you, Daddy.'

'Okay, it's legit. Just put it back in your pocket.'

'No, it's for you. Two thousand for Maddy and the kids and one for Nana and one for you and Ella.'

'Why?'

'Why? I'm buying your affection! Why? I owe you Lou, Nana. And does a man need a reason to give to his wife and kids? Why? Why not?'

'Dell...' Mom began crying happy tears. Ella and Wren, too. Pippin just smiled and embraced her parents.

Nana leaned into me. 'I'm waiting for this to turn to outhouse gruel.'

'Me, too.'

'I'm grabbing my grand now.' Nana reached across the table and counted out a thousand dollars.

'There's some double sawbucks, if you'd rather have them?'

'Fifties are fine.'

Dad counted out a thousand for Uncle Lou. 'Buy something nice.'

'I don't want your money, Dell.'

'I'll take it, then, Dell.'

'Ah, Ella, you know the value of a dollar.' Dell handed a pile to Aunt Ella. She calmly put it in her purse, even though it was more money than she would earn in a year.

'Thank you, Dell.'

'Mom, what are we going to do with all this money?'

'Trey, your mother is going to put this in the bank when we go to town on Tuesday.'

'Mother, I'll look after my own affairs.'

'That doesn't always turn out well, Maddy. It goes in the bank or you can start paying me for the work I do here.'

'It makes sense, Maddy.'

I thought Uncle Lou was speaking though Dad's mouth was moving.

'See, even Dell agrees.'

'Can I at least buy new shoes for the kids?'

'Of course, Maddy.'

'I want red ones, Daddy!'

'Oh yes, Angel. Red shoes, and a blue dress and a little pink hat.'

'Oh, no, Daddy. That would look horrible!'

Even then Pippin had fashion sense. Wren had said nothing. Dad looked at her.

'What would like, Wren?'

'A book. Euclid's Geometry.'

'Like the truck?'

'Euclid was a mathematician in Ancient Greece, Dad.'

'Maddy, did you know Wren can read ancient Greek?'

'Dad, it's a math book and it's been translated.'

'I should've named you Einstein Wrennie! We'll find that ancient Greek book!'

'Now, Trey. A new rifle?'

'I need veterinary stethoscope.'

'For?'

'It would help me with Archie's cows. Dr Leon would lend me one, but I'm afraid I'd break it. Archie's not convinced I need it or I'd ask him to buy it.'

'A stethoscope it is. All presents from Dad!'

I'm sure I said thanks though, I felt I was dreaming and that night, even now, seems unreal.

After dessert, Uncle Lou and I had chores. Wren filled me in about how they had gathered in the front room and Dad told tales about travelling the sulky race circuit from Southern Ontario, to Kentucky, to Flushing Meadows in New Jersey and out to Vancouver.

'Is this real, Uncle Lou?' I had to break our no talk rule during chores.

'Trey, I plumb don't know. Dell can be a charmer.'

'Is he telling the truth about the money?'

'I saw a betting slip in that pile of cash. He finally bet on a long shot which paid. That's my guess.'

'Do you think he's come back?'

'To stay? I don't know, Trey.'

'I hope not. Dad changes like a trap snapping shut. Mom and Pippin always get caught.'

Next morning, Uncle Lou, Dad and I drove to Dad's car. It had run out of fuel. The car was a two year-old Ford Galaxy Wagon. It was loaded with boxes labelled veterinary medicine.

'See? You doubting Thomas!'

'Dell, I'm sorry. It's not like we didn't have cause.'

'We? Sonny boy, did you think your old dad was fibbing?'

'No, sir.' I prayed God would forgive that lie, or at least understand the reason for it.

We splashed three gallons of farm gas into the tank. Dad started up, waved and headed to town.

'He didn't look like he was going for gas.'

'Not just for gas.'

Dad returned in three hours with chocolate Easter bunnies for Pippin and Wren, a pack of Churchillian cigars for Uncle Lou, skeins of yarn for Aunt Ella, slippers for Nana, and flowers for Mom. He saw my disappointment.

'I didn't forget you, Sonny boy' He handed me a paper bag.

It didn't feel like candy or chocolate. 'A stethoscope.'

'It's not new. I traded Dr Leon some meds for it.'

'I don't know what to say. I never... thanks, Dad.'

Pippin pulled up her shirt. 'Listen to my heart, Brother.'

'Thanks, Dad.'

Well, everyone loved their gifts, even Wren had smiled and gave Dad a spontaneous hug. But we were all waiting for the other shoe to drop.

I sat with my Uncle Lou on the tail gate of his Chev pick up while he smoked a cigar.

'This is a dollar cigar, Trey!'

I was listening to my own heart with my stethoscope. 'Pippin's been praying so hard. Do you think Jesus has given us a miracle?'

Uncle Lou exhaled a large blue cloud. 'Yes, a miracle. For a while.'

We sat silent for a while, Uncle Lou blowing lazy smoke rings and me listening to the blood pulsing through my veins.

'How's that going to help calving?'

'I'm going to monitor the heart rate of calves in first-timers. If the heart rate zooms during labour, I call Doc Leon.'

'So he's there in time to help and not just in time to bury a year's profit.'

'Yep. The calf should be the first realize there's trouble.'

'You can tell what you're actually listening to?'

'Not right now, but I'll practise.'

Nana brought Pippin and Wren for an afternoon visit with Aunt Ella. Uncle Lou and I installed Archie's plough points and then puttered around in the wood shop. Uncle Lou was making a tack case for a horseman in Dresden. I helped assemble the cut pieces and clamp them for a test fit.

We were admiring our work when Aunt Ella pounded on the door. 'Lou, Pippin's running back home!'

We stepped out to look and sure enough Pippin was halfway home, trudging through the deep and wet late March snow. I started off to catch her but Uncle Lou called me back.

'But Uncle Lou, you never know.'

'I'll drive over. Trey, glue up what we got fitted.'

Uncle Lou drove over to Mom's place in time to meet Pippin on the back steps.

'She'll be alright, Aunt Ella.' She looked like she needed re-assuring.

'It's not Pippy I'm so worried about.'

Aunt Ella was worried about Mom. That's what I thought at the time. I also thought Uncle Lou would be back in few minutes but it took him an hour to reappear. By that time I'd eased up a few joints then glued everything and was just tightening the last strap clamp when Uncle Lou looked in.

'Nice work.'

'Everything okay with Pippin and Mom?'

'Dell invited me for coffee.'

'Dad?'

'We might have a miracle on our hands, Trey.'

I know now that I did hear a touch of wistfulness in those words.

Good Friday MArch 26 1964

Dad had been with us for a week now. A week without major upset, if you don't count a few queasy stomachs due to chocolate bunny overload.

Nana scolded Dad about the amount of Easter candy he had handed to us. 'Belle, sweetheart, I missed Christmas and it's only once a year.'

Nana muttered. 'Sweetheart.' She shook her head. 'So much farting of sparrows.'

Which meant, of course, that the other shoe was going to drop.

But we all got dressed for Good Friday services. Dad bought Mom a new dress of royal plumb with a short waistcoat style jacket and matching silk scarf. Of course, she looked as elegant as Princess Grace.

Aunt Ella nearly fainted when she saw the price tag-- $93.50!

'He's got no sense but he sure has great taste.' And everyone agreed with Uncle Lou. Mom looked stunning!

Wren thought Mom needed a new winter coat. 'Compliments won't be warm next December.'

Mom did bask in compliments, and envious looks, during Easter though.

Dad had insisted his wife and kids ride in the Ford wagon with him. Uncle Lou, Aunt Ella, and Nana were going to ride to church in the Chevy pick up.

'I tell you, he got something going on in that criminal mind of his. Lou you better take the big car.' The big car was the Suburban with room for nine people. 'I feel something, Lou.'

After service Dad wanted to take Mom for a drive.

'I told you, Lou.'

'Maddy, you sure you want to go?' My Uncle Lou opened the passenger door and ducked in to talk to Mom.

'It's fine, Lou.'

'How long you taking her?'

'What? Husband and wife. Quiet drive. What's this third degree stuff?'

'I don't want you playing around with these kids. Maddy, Pippin is going to miss you.'

'I'll have her back soon.'

'I've heard promises from you before, Dell.'

'Lou, shut the door.'

Uncle Lou did shut the door, a little too firmly to be polite, a little too determined to be accidental. Pippin was already teary and Wren had found her what did you expect look, by the time the Ford Galaxy Wagon turned onto Renwick Road. We watched it disappear.

'Charming, just charming. Come on kids, pile in with Uncle Lou and Aunt Ella. Our turkey will be ready in an hour.'

Nana was determined not to let life go down a rat hole. I noticed that Aunt Ella kept a hand on Uncle Lou's right arm all the way back home.

Nana had planned a turkey dinner with fixings for Good Friday. 'In case.'

In case an Easter blizzard hit. In case the world came to an end. In case the other shoe dropped.

By five o'clock it was clear that something had gone wrong. Dad and Mom were not back. Uncle Lou went out and smoked a cigar while sitting on the tailgate of his Chevy pickup. Aunt Ella watched him through the kitchen window as she helped Nana with dinner.

'I'm setting places for Dad and Mom.'

'That's fine, Pippy. Remember, the fork goes on the left.'

The clock ticked on past five-twenty. 'We are having supper now. Trey call Lou. Everyone get washed up and presentable.'

I went out to Uncle Lou. His cigar was nearly done.

'Nana's serving dinner now.'

'I shouldn't have let her go.'

'Mom seemed as if she wanted to go.'

Uncle Lou stubbed out the cigar and flicked it to the fence which edged the lane way. 'Maddy's a hopeless romantic. She's just not Florence Nightingale.'

Or Sigmund Freud. 'Do you think they'll be home soon?'

'Not soon enough. We better have a prayer for them.'

Nana had a knack for squeezing good out of bad. Easter dinner was peaceful and full of laughter. Nana told stories about growing up in London, England at the turn of the century. Aunt Ella retold the Easter story of Jesus in a way that swelled up with hope for the world.

Pip was upset that Mom and Dad had missed all the good things but she was convinced they were happy watching the sun go down.

'Pippy, where do you get your ideas?'

'Sister, I read it in Mom's magazine.'

Another of Mom's habits. No one guessed that Pip, barely five had actually read a story from Women's Weekly. Pip had lots of talents and energies which her beauty camouflaged.

After dinner, Uncle Lou and I were left alone while the women tidied up.

'Men are content to feel good after a meal. Women get edgy about stuff being out of place.'

'Nana says men are lazy.'

'She's misunderstanding the value of contemplation.'

We contemplated silently for a few minutes as we sipped coffee.

'What about Mom?'

'That makes me edgy, Trey. Dell's as complicated as a labyrinth.'

Was Wren rubbing off on Uncle Lou? 'Was Dad always hard to understand?'

'Before the war, he was just a simple, happy kid. Great defence man. Skate backwards as fast most guys skate forwards. Could out fish anyone.'

'Even you?'

Uncle Lou nodded. 'He wanted to be an automotive engineer for GM.'

'Why didn't he?'

'He came back less simple and less happy. We all did, but he couldn't lock his pain away. He'd have been better off losing a leg or something.'

'Engineer, uh. That's where Wren gets her smarts. How did you lock the war up?'

'I had you kids to look after. I had no time to get distracted.'

'Dad's doing well now, though, Uncle Lou. Must have locked up the past to earn all that money.'

'I pray that's so, Trey. But I fear it all got unlocked again, this afternoon.'

'They're not watching the sun go down?'

'No, but it set just the same, didn't it.'

We fell into a long period of contemplation which stretched nearly to a nap before Uncle Lou stood up and stretched out the kinks. I knew what it meant.

'Chores.'

Uncle Lou was usually quiet during a normally quiet time. As we were washing up he started talking.

'I'm going to bring your mother home.'

'Do you know where she is?'

'No, but there's only a couple of motels hereabouts.'

'What if...'

'...I'll deal with that...'

'What are you going to tell Aunt Ella?'

'Nothing, now. She'll want to come with me. Might not be...'

'...safe?'

'...smart. Give me a head start.'

Keeping the home fires burning

I let Uncle Lou's pickup get a hundred yards up the road before I started back to our house.

Aunt Ella had been watching from the back stoop.

'Is Lou going to Archie's?'

I shook my head. 'He went to get Mom.'

'Dear Lord. Lou is playing with fire.'

'He doesn't think it's unsafe.'

'Lou is sometimes the dreamer Dell is.'

I guided Aunt Ella into the house. Nana saw Aunt Ella's concerned look.

'Dell?'

'No, Uncle Lou's gone to get Mom.'

'Is Daddy coming back, Brother?' Pippin crept out from under the table.

'I'm not sure. You know he has to work to get all the wonderful gifts he brought you.'

'I'd rather have Daddy here.'

'We all would, Pippy.'

Nana rolled her eyes. 'Ella, I have a nice bottle of port.'

'I don't drink wine, Belle.'

'It's just a cooking ingredient, like molasses.'

'Just a small one, then.'

'Can I have one, Nana?'

'I have some Pepsi for you, Pippy.'

Wren was reading Rhetoric by Aristotle in the living room. 'More drama?'

'High drama potential, for sure. Uncle Lou went to bring Mom home.'

'If he finds her. And maybe not even then.'

'Why'd you think that?'

'You must see how she looks at him, like he's Apollo. That cash juiced Mom up, too. Shut the door Lou. Uncle Lou never expected that.'

'Yeah, me neither. She'd never leave us, though.'

'And you believe this because of the way she sleeps through breakfast and watches TV while Nana cooks. I just hope Nana sticks around because I don't want full cooking duties.'

'Again.'

'Right, full cooking duties, again.'

I went to my room to read Pope, not Alexander Pope, Saxton Pope, Hunting with the Bow and Arrow. I loved to read but my tastes were decidedly not academic. Uncle Lou had found the book in a yard sale in Jennette's Creek, a village just north of us and he presented to me on my ninth birthday. I've read and re-read the book at least yearly since then.

Chapter Three Hunting with Ishi

Hunting with Ishi was pure joy. Bow in hand, he seemed to be transformed into a being light as air and as silent as falling snow.

I really didn't need to read the words. They lived in my mind. Ishi, the last primitive Indian in North America. His story always fascinated and saddened me.

I shouldn't have revisited that chapter that night, though. I really didn't need another dose of sadness. Whatever happened in the next few hours would create upheaval.

Pippin and Wren were sleeping. Nana and Aunt Ella had finished cleaning up and had drunk most of the cooking port. Laughter and weeping, weeping and laughter. Hope and reality. I heard a prayer from Aunt Ella.

Nearly midnight. Light slashes through my window. Gravel grinding in the lane. An angry pickup door. An angrier back door. A stumble of steps and crying.

Mom was home.

'Ella. Time to come home.' Heavy footsteps. 'For crying out loud.'

'She was worried, Lou. You need that seeing to.'

'Look after your daughter.'

'God, is that her blood?'

'Dell's, I expect.'

'Oh, Jesus, Lou. Did you kill him?'

'I didn't even try.'

aftermath

Next morning I got out early to do chores. Aunt Ella wasn't at the door waiting. She'd wake up much later than usual this morning. I eased my way in and got a bucket of warm water.

I put grain before Jennette. I washed the milk pail, washed her udder, milked her, then poured a quarter of it into the new calf's bucket.

Uncle Lou came out at his regular time. He had a deep, ugly gash across his nose. He saw that I'd noticed it.

'I'm not proud of what happened.'

'I didn't think you would be.'

'Well, I'm not.'

I let it drop. 'Jennette and young Gwen are done.'

'Thanks. There's whey in the spring cooler for the hogs.'

'Okay.'

'How's your Mom?'

'Sleeping.'

'How's Aunt Ella?'

'Sleeping.'

After chores we went to the house for breakfast. Aunt Ella was a little unsteady and untidy looking. Cooking port and marital discord had shuttered her normal sunshine this morning. But her cooking hadn't suffered.

We ate in near silence. The tension between Aunt Ella and Uncle Lou almost vibrated. I ate quickly and forwent seconds which I could have wolfed down.

As I left, I heard Aunt Ella open the medicine cabinet and then Uncle Lou yelp a bit. Later he showed up with his wounded bandaged and a hint of a smile.

'I didn't think Aunt Ella would let you suffer long.'

'She's a fine woman, Ella is.'

'Mom will take a little longer, though.'

Uncle Lou let out a big sigh. 'Oh, yeah.'

Mom stayed in bed for five days. Every morning Nana called in vain for her to come to breakfast. Mom came for lunch and then disappeared back into her room. I noticed a bruise on the left side of her neck. So did Nana.

'Men, villeins or not, are tough on women, Trey.'

Yeah, it didn't seem fair, I admit, but I hadn't been a villein to any woman and I was stung by the criticism. Nana saw the hurt in my eyes.

'You're innocent so far, Trey. Maybe you can avoid fate.'

I intended to. Honest.

About a month later

About a month after Easter, Aunt Ella met Wren and me at school in the pickup.

'I need your help at the post office, Trey. I have a big package there!' Aunt Ella glowed.

She was really quite pretty and more so when was helping and giving to others. Then she glowed. Aunt Ella was glowing today. Clearly the package contained a gift, not for her, for someone, most likely, us kids.

'Ella is a perfect Mary.' Reverend Brown would say. No one disagreed, though Mom was miffed. But that was years ago, before my memory.

'What is it?' I slid into the driver's seat. Aunt Ella didn't like driving though she was no worse a driver than anyone else.

'Knowledge!'

Wren guessed. 'A book. Euclid's Geometry?'

'A library!'

The package was four heavy boxes which I carried one a time to the pickup.

'Aunt Ella, it's the Great Works of the Western World!'

'How did you... Dad's cash? Aunt Ella, this is too much.'

'Too much to educate three children and their Aunt?'

Wren hugged Aunt Ella. 'Oh, I wish you were my Mom!'

'Wren, you should never think that.'

They hugged until I got antsy. 'Girls, we are in a no-parking zone. Get in.'

Gwendolyn 7 Trey 17

Though I helped with evening milkings seven days a week, I did mornings only on the weekends or holidays. This particular Saturday morning was a crisp one in late October. The maples and birches were past their peak colour and thinned somewhat by the winds but were still lovely sugared with a light hoar frost. The oaks hung onto their old-penny coloured leaves like Dickensian misers. The leaves would whither and dry to the brittleness of egg shell before the wind prised most of them from their branches.

Despite the warning from Mom, I had taken off without a suitable jacket, and almost immediately had to break into a run to keep warm for the two hundred yard sojourn to Uncle Lou's milking shed.

Jiggs met me half-way and followed me a few yards before scenting a jackrabbit which he found more interesting than a warm sweet barn and the chance to lap up some spilt milk.

My Uncle Lou's barn is a squared-timbered building at least 150 years old and the biggest of its type in the township, Rising three stories out of a bank basement of field stone with a wide barn bridge leading to the main floor. Above this was the hay mow and below the stalls for livestock.

I ducked in a basement door and I heard a whimper punctuated with a spritz of milk against a stainless pail. I could see Uncle Lou, his head against Jennette's side, hands rhythmic and gentle, and his whole being convulsed intermittently.

'Uncle Lou, are you all right?'

'Yes, Trey, I...' Another wave shook him. '...I have to tell Jennette...'

Well I knew what this was about. It happened every year at this time and so I offered to do the deed. 'I'll do it.'

'No, no, no...' A big sigh escaped Uncle Lou. 'It wouldn't be right. A man... a man... who eats meat must do the deed.'

'I eat meat, too. I can do it.'

'You're a good son, Trey.'

I didn't think I was Uncle Lou's son but Uncle Lou was my de facto dad, since Dad wasn't around much and wasn't sober for much of the little time he was around.

'I'll get the rifle.'

'No, mebbe next year, Trey. Your Uncle Lou's got to break this to Jennette right here and now.'

Jennette, a dairy shorthorn, seemed to sense the message and let out a bawl.

'Oh, Jenny, honey, I'm sorry. I have to murder your baby Gwendolyn 7!'

Jennette bawled again. I noticed the spritzing had stopped and that Uncle Lou was milking a dry teat.

'Uncle Lou, she's milked.'

My Uncle Lou stared into the milk pail. 'Oh Jenny, I'm a beast! I didn't mean to hurt your lovely teats!

My Uncle Lou stood up from the stool and hugged Jennette with a head lock. Tears flowed from his eyes. 'Get the rifle, Trey. I suppose a man who'd dry milk a faithful ole cow can slaughter a heifer. But be quick, I feel a wavering in my iron resolve.'

I carried the pail up to the house for Aunt Ella to put to cool in the spring trough and retrieved the .22 Cooey ring-bolt from the back door closet. I grabbed a few shells, and the scabbard of butcher knives and steel from the shelf above the boot rack and ran, like the fullback I was, back to the barn.

Uncle Lou was still teary. 'It's not that we don't love you Gwen but things are this way 'cause God made it like this. I am a carnivore and that's that. And iffen I weren't a carnivore, you'd anever bin born.'

My Uncle Lou always sounded like Huck Finn when he spoke to livestock.

Now this isn't a prissy story by one of those literary types from Toronto who escapes to the country to raise livestock but turns vegetarian because butchering animals, at least by one so sensitive, is unthinkable. Heck no. If that's what you're expecting just flip to the next chapter, or maybe the one after that.

Gwendolyn 7 was bedded on deep clean straw in the killing stall. I called it death row but Uncle Lou didn't like to hear that. Gwen had not been fed for two days though she had her fill of water and access to a salt lick. Livestock don't get a last meal because it doesn't make sense to load an animal's gut with 30 pounds of shit just before you are going to be taking that gut out. Makes no sense to serve a last meal to a man about to be executed either, come to think of it.

Gwens 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 and 1 were the offspring of Jennette, who resolutely threw a heifer every year. It didn't matter what AI semen was used to breed her. Although, steak restaurants advertise grade A-1 steer beef, farmers know better and raise heifers for their own consumption. A heifer is less lean, that's right, fat is tasty, and since she grows more slowly, the meat is more richly marbled. Heifers grade poorly only because city folk think they want lean beef.

My Uncle Lou stood up to his full five foot nine and a half inches. 'Gimme the gun, Trey.'

I handed Uncle Lou the Cooey, breech open and empty. My Uncle Lou took it firmly and held out his large and thickly callused left hand. 'Shell.'

I placed the .22 LR solid into Uncle Lou's hand. At the sound of the bolt closing on the cartridge, Gwen 7 looked up from her water pail and bawled. The smell of Jennette's milk no doubt piqued her hunger. My Uncle Lou hooked his right hand pointer finger into the ring on the bolt and pulled it back. It clicked into fire position. He raised the rifle and whistled to freeze Gwen in front of him. her broad forehead one-inch from the muzzle. Bang.

A .22 LR doesn't make a lot of noise, even in the confines of a stone building. Jennette let out a soft moo as Gwen dropped into the deep straw. The shot hit perfectly just above a line draw across her eyes, right in the middle of her forehead.

My Uncle Lou handed the Cooey back to me and motioned for the killing knife. He felt the edge, entered the stall and slit the pulsing jugular vein. The heifer would die from bleeding and not the shot. That was only to stun her into unconsciousness.

Jiggs was back from his jackrabbiting, eager to lap up or wolf down anything that we allowed him.

As Uncle Lou did his knife work, I lassoed the hind legs and threaded the rope through a double block which remained anchored to a timber above the stall. I hauled up the 800 pound heifer in a few seconds. I'd been doing this since I was 11 and had watched this being done since I was one or two.

My Uncle Lou put a 5-gallon pail below the heifer to catch the blood. In the old days, this would have been used to mix with flour and meat parts to make blood sausage. Now-a-days Uncle Lou mixes it with grain and feeds it to the chickens.

After the bleed out, I lowered the heifer, switched the noose from hind quarters to her neck and hoist her up head first. This settles the guts in the lower part of the body. Jiggs gets excited and starts wagging so hard he is thrown around in a tight lurching circle. He knows not to come close the carcase or the knives. He sports a nick on his nose, a scar of impetuous puppy-hood.

We work without talking mostly. Once in a while, Uncle Lou grunts for a particular tool.

'Gutter.'

I hand Uncle Lou a knife with a short rounded blade. He opens the heifer from the bottom of the breast bone all the way down her belly and her guts spill out. Jiggs whimpers and dances.

I bend in and grab a kidney and after inspecting it, toss it to Jiggs. 'Get lost, that's all for now.' And Jiggs scampers away, mouthing the warm kidney and snorting as if it were a combo of chocolate and opium.

'Jointer.'

The jointer is a thin blade, like a fillet knife. My Uncle Lou splits the knee joints and the shanks seem to explode off the thigh bone. Jiggs will get to chomp on all four these treats later.

Then the hide was removed and as I salt it, Uncle Lou sluices out the body cavity and washes the entire carcase, then covers it in cheese cloth.

I lower the covered carcase onto a trolley cart. My Uncle Lou severs the head, wraps the headless neck with another cheese cloth, and motions me to stow everything in the cooling shed.

The block in the cooling shed has a large meat hook on it which I thread through the neck bones of the carcase. I hoist the beef and then adjust the loveurs to allow for full air flow.

Aunt Ella calls out that lunch is ready. My Uncle Lou and I were washing up in the back entry before we spoke much.

'Nice carcase. Gonna dress out about 550 mebbe 580.'

'Yep. Prime beef, Uncle Lou.'

'Will you dress out the head after lunch? I'm going to spend some time with Jennette.'

'Sure, Uncle Lou.'

'How's your mother been? I've neglected her this week.'

'She knows you were getting ready to do this.'

'How'd she know that?' My Uncle Lou had a smile on his face that Aunt Ella described as saucy or devilish depending on her mood.

'Anytime you miss three days in a row you're either hunting, fishing, or preparing for slaughter.'

'Dell around?'

I knew Uncle Lou didn't mean at the house or anything physical like that. 'He calls once a in a while. He's at Flushing. He said he's sending money. Doesn't Mom tell you?'

'We never speak of him, Trey. Hardly ever.'

church

The day after the beef slaughter was nearly summer warm. This kind of weather is greeted with joy by the city types but it's no good to cool a beef. However, there was weather in the western sky.

My Uncle Lou and I were sitting in our old Suburban waiting on Aunt Ella. 'I expect it'll get chilly by vespers, Trey.'

'Vespers? Are we going to vespers?' Now, I knew the answer but I was hoping Uncle Lou wouldn't insist on two church services after the slaughter.

'Yes, we oughta go regular like.'

'Yes, Uncle Lou, it's just with milking and homework...'

'There's nothing without God.'

'Well, if nothing includes chores and homework, I'd be for it.'

My Uncle Lou laughed. 'I bet your Mother wears that blue silk dress, today.'

Aunt Ella got into the back seat, reaching forward to touch my shoulder. 'It's so nice to have two big strong men around.'

I look out the side window, pretending to see a whitetail. I don't want to look at Uncle Lou. I was 15 at the time and, well, I knew things, even if Aunt Ella didn't. I know all of this is wrong, by law and by commandment. But I also know my mother did not deserve my dad and Uncle Lou and my mother laughed a lot together.

We pulled out of the drive and headed down to my place where Mom was waiting with my younger sisters, Wren and Pippin.

'Oh, Maddy, I love that dress.'

'It's my favourite, Ella.'

'Isn't it pretty, Lou?'

'Yes. Very blue.'

'And silky.'

'Why Trey, I didn't know you noticed such things.'

'It's almost as blue as your eyes, Aunt Ella.'

'Oh, my. Thanks. Trey.'

'What am I reading, Trey?'

'Something only you can understand, Wren.'

'Say something nice to me, Brother.'

'If you were a frog, you'd be the greenest one in the pond.'

I don't remember much about the ride to church. I'm sure Mom and Aunt Ella chatted about some womanly thing, like canning, or clamping the parsnips and potatoes. Actually Mom never spoke about canning and things like that. She wasn't domestic in any sense, really. Mom depended on the ties of blood and family. Most likely she would say something about seeing a cardinal or a particularly impressive cloud or last night's sunset. Probably they talked about Reverend's wife who was with child at the time, which was late in life for her. But I remember thinking how bright Mom looked when Uncle Lou hopped out of the Suburban to open the door for her and my sisters.

Renwick Baptist Church was a wooden lapstrake building painted white with black trim sitting on three acres of treed land on the Campbell Road. Reverend Brown presided over the flock and had done for since the end of World War Two when he returned from France with Uncle Lou and dad.

'Lucas, Ellen, Madrigal, Pippin, Wren, and Roman. The whole family.'

'Except Dad.' Pippin had an undying belief that Dad was actually part of the family. She set a place for him every night, even in the face of Wren's scorn and teasing. Of course, she always got the last laugh, when Dad showed up out of the blue and set the world upside down again. 'See, I told you.' Then she would run to her bedroom which she shared with Wren and cry.

Reverend Brown sighed but smiled. 'Pippin, I pray daily for good things.'

'I know Dad will come back to stay one day. I just know it.' Pippin was actually right about this, though it took a while to come true. And it didn't turn out to be as good as she expected. Quelle suprise!

Yes, let's get it out of the way, my name is Roman but only the Reverend Brown calls me that. Even my teachers called me Trey. And my Mom's name is Madrigal, a lovely poetic song. Which fits since Mom was a looker as the menfolk around said. But as my Nana said, she's not got a lick of sense about men. (Well, Mom came by that honestly, since grandpa left after knocking up Nana. But I'm getting ahead of myself.) At least Dad just drained us emotionally. On the other hand Gramps never came back to inflict more damage or sire more kids.

I headed for the cloak room with Mom's and my sister's coats. As I pushed through the door I heard my name.

'Hi, Roman.' It wasn't Reverend Brown speaking.

I wanted to answer back something elegant and sophisticated. 'Cali, nice to see you. You look as if the trip to Bermuda was very pleasant.' If only my throat hadn't constricted.

'Hi.' I stood rooted before her. Just as the silence was stretching like a hangman's rope, the door pushed open again.

'Hello, Miss Cotrelle. The Caribbean agrees with you! Trey you were right, she is a vision of loveliness.'

As stunned as I was and blinded by her smile I could see that Cali blushed at those words. 'Thanks, Mister Carson.'

'Help her off with her coat, Trey.' My Uncle Lou took the coats from me and nudged me toward Cali. She opened her coat and turned so I could take it. I held the padded shoulders, careful not to touch her.

'I won't bite, Trey.' Cali sensed my wariness but her intuition was wrong. I wasn't afraid of what she would do to me, I was afraid of what I might do.

'I wouldn't care if you did bite me.' How that escaped my brain I have no idea but her intuition quickly kicked in.

'I can manage.' She pulled her coat from me and took it with her into the sanctuary.

'Well, you weren't backward about being forward, Trey.'

'I didn't mean to say that.'

'Trouble is, we may never know if it was the biting or the not caring part that she heard.'

'She most likely heard both. She's the smartest girl in school. Second, if you count Wren.'

'Even if she did hear both parts, only one made her skedaddle.'

'What'll I do now? Apologize?'

'No. Just do something thoughtful for her.'

'The way my brain thinks around her, I don't believe that's gonna work.'

'All men feel that way, Trey.' My Uncle Lou chuckled to himself. 'Let's go get sermonized.' I could hear him mutter. 'Poor Jennette, poor Gwen.'

'Better add that whitetail I'm bagging next Friday after school.'

'Oh no, that's yours, Trey. You're old enough to be responsible for the grief you cause and man enough to ask forgiveness.'

That night, I prayed that Cali would forgive me but I held no real hope she would. But just as Pippin was right about Dad, I was wrong about Cali. Different answers to prayer, though one turned out to be a disaster. I prayed for the whitetail, too. I bagged him just as I'd predicted. The prayer of the predator overcame the prayer of the prey. This time, at least.

High school graduation year

Uncle Lou and I practised football basics and techniques, ambidextrously every night but Sunday during the off season. He set up a weight machine in the milking shed so I could bench and squat without fear of killing myself. My strength increased steadily since Uncle Lou decided that repetition workouts were for show muscle only. I was on a strength program.

'Three lifts in a session. First lift, a little lighter than your maximum. Second lift, at maximum. Third lift, maximum plus a little extra weight.'

Some days the extra weight was only a penny of two but I was measurably stronger each day. My team mates and the coach noticed and so did Mary Jane Davis.

Mary Jane was the first flower child most of us had ever seen. For reasons unclear but much speculated on, her family, obviously well-off, moved from Richmond Hill to Renwick. For a while, at least.

'Have you seen the new girl?' It was Bobby McKay, a rotund, feminine boy who was failing grade nine for his third time. 'I heard her family's been here for a month already but no one's seen them, just that big white Fleetwood. She's here today.'

'Does she have a nice brother, Bobby?'

'Knock it off, Janny.' I never really knew why I stood up for Bobby or anyone else. I guess I didn't want it to get back to Uncle Lou that I had let myself down.

'I think she's a hippie, Trey. She's got flowers in her hair.'

'So does my Aunt Ella. On her hat at least.'

'I don't think she wears a bra!'

'How would you know?'

'Just watch her, she bounces all over the place!'

'I'm going to ask her to the dance Friday.'

'Janny, it's a Sadie Hawkins dance.'

'And?'

'The girl asks the guy.'

'Well maybe she won't know it's a.. one of those dances.'

I could hear Uncle Lou saying, Oh she knows, women know these things. It's in their nature. 'Yeah, maybe she's as clueless as you, Janny.'

'Great, there's no telling what I can talk her into!'

'I think I'd even go with her!'

'Too bad, she won't go with you, Bobby McKay.'

'How do you know, Janny?'

'She's a girl!'

Though I tried to get a look at Mary Jane the day she arrived, I always seemed to miss her. I looked in the cafeteria and Coach Foote told me the new girl just left. The gym was empty. Under the football field bleachers a few seniors were sneaking a smoke.

'The new girl, Mary Jane, went to the can.'

And so it went. As I changed classes I looked into each room but no Mary Jane Davis.

I wasn't even sure why I was doing this. My record with girls was pretty much zero and I always held out hope that Cali would see that I was a pretty cool character. The fact that I acted like a tongue-tied, one legged, idiot around her war just a facade! I suppose I wanted to see the wild and free Mary Jane Davis and her magic bouncing shirt, er... blouse, I guess.

As I was leaving to walk home, Janny drove by. 'Wanna go to town play some pool?'

'I've got chores.'

'Okay, see ya.' He squealed the tires of his dad's Park Lane then skidded to a stop. He looked back out of the window. 'She knew.'

'Uh?'

'Mary Jane, she knew it was a whatever dance.'

'And she didn't ask you, uh?'

'No. See ya.' And Janny left a few more dollars of his old man's tire rubber on the parking lot before turning to spew Renwick Road gravel for twenty yards.

'Does he always drive like that?'

I turned and it was Mary Jane Davis. 'Only when he drives his daddy's car.'

'You're Trey, right?'

'Yes.' Normally with Cali, I'd be done talking but something clicked. 'And you're Mary Jane Davis. I've been looking for you all afternoon.'

She smiled very shyly. 'Why?'

I knew I should have shut up. My mind was dimming but my mouth went on talking. 'I heard you were...' It was like I was a ventriloquist's dummy. I wonder how think sentence is going to end. 'I heard you were very sexy.' I nearly looked behind me to see if someone else were actually doing the talking.

'Wren told me you were goofy around girls.'

'Do you know my sister?'

'She's kinda hard to miss. She's some kind of genius, right? Like Allan Einstein?'

'Albert.'

'Are you going to the dance?'

'Are you asking me?'

'Yes.'

'What time should I pick you up?'

Just then a white Caddy Fleetwood pulled up in front of us. She opened the back door. 'I'll send Edward to pick you up at seven Friday.'

'Will I see you, tomorrow?'

'No, I'm shopping in Detroit. See ya Friday. Dancing Boy.'

Edward and the Fleetwood sped off and the panic set in. Dancing Boy! Though I high-stepped through the tire obstacle in practice, I was hog-tied when it came to dancing. I quick jogged the two miles home and found Uncle Lou in his work shed turning a chair leg on his World War One vintage lathe.

'I need to learn how to dance.'

My Uncle Lou shut down the lathe. 'Any particular reason?'

'Mary Jane Davis asked me to the Sadie Hawkins dance on Friday.'

'The new import from Hog Town?'

I nodded.

'That doesn't leave much time. No time to learn anything but attitude and confidence.'

'Uncle Lou, is that going to work?'

'How did you get this date? What did you do?'

'Nothing. It's a Sadie Hawkins, Uncle Lou. The girl asks the boy.'

'Yeah, yeah, yeah. Did the boy give an answer to Mary Jane's invitation?'

'Of course.'

'Why, of course? Every other time a girl looks at you, you go catatonic.'

'That only happens with Cali.'

'She just walked up to you and said wanna dance, sailor?'

'No, we talked for a bit.'

'Give me some dialogue.'

'She said something like, hi Trey and I said hi Mary Jane, I've been looking for you because I heard you were sexy and you are and...'

'Hold it. You were looking for this girl?'

'Yeah. The guys said she was hippie. I wanted to meet her.'

'And you told her this before she asked you to the dance?'

'Yeah.'

'I guess you were feeling confident.'

'Not exactly, Uncle Lou. It was like I was watching me talk to her. Like I was listening in to what I was saying. Part of my wanted me to shut up.'

'But the confident part won out this time and you snagged the new girl for a date.'

Perhaps he had something. 'But that different than dancing. You can't fake knowing how to dance.'

'This modern stuff looks like it's all fake and confidence. Just shuffle and flap your arms.'

'I'll be the joke of the dance.'

'With the new girl? Who's going to be laughing? Course, maybe you shouldn't go.'

'Why not?'

'I imagine Cali Cotrelle will have her knickers in a twist.'

That image derailed me momentarily. 'Really?'

'Cali is fascinated with you, Trey. It's written all over her face.'

'Really?'

'Sure. But even if she asks you to the dance, you can't disappoint Mary Jane.'

'The probability of Cali asking or caring is very remote, Uncle Lou.'

'Maybe I'm misreading the signals, but I don't think so.'

'So you really think I can bluff my way through this?'

'It's not a bluff. It's confidence.'

'How do I develop confidence?'

'Think of it as a bench press. Rehearse the whole dance in your mind, Trey. Keep focused on having a good time. And compliment the girl on a few things several times. Especially in front of the other girls.'

'Were you a ladies' man, Uncle Lou?'

My Uncle Lou chuckled. 'When I'm confident, I am.' He laid a hand on my shoulder. 'Just relax. But not now, I need some help turning new chair legs for Mrs Dale.'

Oh, what a straight line! Better make them out of telephone poles. Or, you mean Mrs Clydes-Dale? 'Okay, Uncle Lou.'

'Why are you smirking?'

'I almost let myself down, Uncle Lou.'

Next day

Janny met me at my locker. 'Hey, did you score Mary Jane?'

'She invited me to the dance.'

'Does she wear a bra?'

'We just talked, Janny. I didn't get a chance to feel her up.'

'Feel who up?' Jangle!

'Hi.'

'Who were you feeling up?'

'He wasn't feeling her up, Cali. He's taking Mary Jane Davis to the dance.'

'Oh. Too bad. I was going to ask him to go with me.'

'I'm not going, Cali.'

'I know, Janny. But Trey's going with Mary Jane Davis.'

She walked away with an exaggerated sashay.

'You lucky bastard, Trey. I better start lifting weights, too.'

I really felt like a lucky bastard, too. Really lucky.

Wren came by her locker. 'Did Cali find you?'

'Oh yeah.'

'You messed up again, uh Trey?'

'You don't have to sound so gleeful.'

'You've been peeking into my thesaurus again. Actually, I commiserate with you. You look a mess.'

'Thanks. No wonder Cali wants nothing to do with me.'

'You were happy last night because Mary Jane was taking you to the dance.'

'Yeah.'

'She still is, Trey.'

I stood up and squared my shoulders. 'Yeah.'

'That will make Cali jealous, too.'

'I am a lucky bastard after all.' I didn't mean it to be ironic that time, but it was, as it turned out.

At seven that night, I'd been ready for an hour. I rushed through chores, skipped supper, showered, shaved and put on my best faded jeans and second-hand army shirt which was pretty darn cool at the time.

'Trey, are you sure that's suitable for a Sadie Hawkins? The girls will be dressed up.'

'Aunt Ella, Mary Jane is a rebel. She's a hippie.' Aunt Ella held her Kodak Brownie hopefully. 'I don't think she wants her picture taken.'

'All girls want a picture of their dance dress, Trey.'

'Mary Jane probably will be wearing jeans, too.'

Aunt Ella's soft doe eyes grew round. 'Are you sure you want to go with this creature?'

Wren piped up. 'She won't wear a dress, Aunt Ella. She doesn't even wear a bra.'

'Maddy! Maddy! Come out here. We must talk.'

Mom came into the front room with Pippin in her arms.

'Brother, aren't you going to the dance?'

'What is it, Ella?'

'I don't think Trey should go to this dance. The girl's questionable and may be a hussy.'

'She doesn't wear a bra, Mom.'

'That's not true, Mom.'

'How do you know?'

'I don't know. The guys at school said she didn't.'

'Oh Maddy, this is... Trey you shouldn't go with this... creature. Why didn't you go with Cali? You like her.'

'Cali asked Trey to go.'

'Trey, why didn't you go with her?'

'Mary Jane asked me first, Mom.'

'You could have waited a day, Trey.' Wren looked over her reading glasses and crossed her eyes.

'Cali's pretty, Brother.'

'Look, she's going to be here any moment...'

'Cali?'

'Mom! Mary Jane! Geeze, I'm starting to sweat already.'

Seven came and went seven o five, seven-ten, eight-ten, eight-thirty.

'Does she know where to come, Trey?' My Uncle Lou had come over to escort Aunt Ella back home.

'I think so.'

'Think so? Didn't you tell her?'

'Well, she said her driver would pick me up. She seemed to know.'

'Have you called her?'

'I don't know her number.'

My Uncle Lou looked at the clock. It was nine already. 'You could take the Suburban or the pick up. Check out the school.'

In 1966, girls wouldn't get into a Suburban or pick up truck unless they were comatose. And sometimes, not even then. Nothing said rube or hick any louder. My, how fashion has changed!

'Thanks, Uncle Lou.'

I parked in a laneway near the school and hoofed across the football field to sneak in the back door.

'Hey, Trey.'

'Janny.' He was finishing a smoke and flipped the butt against the wall.

'Where's Mary Jane?'

'She's not here?'

'Haven't seen her.'

'I thought there was a no stags rule. What are you doing here?'

'Uh...remember she asked me...'

'Cali?'

'Look, I tried to say no but you know how she is. I promise I'll try not to feel her up.'

'Yeah, thanks.' What did I care? I'd be more likely get hit by a meteorite, twice, than to get the chance to... well, I didn't even want to think of it.

'I got to get back to Cali.'

'I'll come with you, Janny.

'Sorry, buddy, Tompkins is goose-stepping the halls. You better wait outside. Here, take my smokes.'

It won't surprise you to learn that she never showed up. Not that night. Not ever again. No explanation.

On Monday, Janny was waiting by my locker.

'I think I broke my promise. Don't ask me about it.'

'Think?'

'She slapped me.'

'You waited here to tell me that?'

'No, I want my cigarettes back. I forgot you don't smoke.'

And that was that. Yeah, right.

Later chores

I started chores a little early just so I'd have something to do. To take my mind off my disappointment. If the world had come to an end that day, I couldn't have felt worse.

My Uncle Lou was welding up a trailer hitch for someone. I could hear the whine of the air-grinder and the hiss of the arc welder as he worked. He had been sympathetic but never suggested I take to day off chores. 'Work is a great psychiatrist, Trey.'

I had taken over milking Jennette since she was nearing the end of her useful life. She'd be going to the knackers soon and I wanted to create a little distance between Uncle Lou and his beloved cow before I'd have to broach the subject. I wasn't looking forward to it.

A milking shed is always warm, being built tighter than the main barn, and having a low ceiling to conserve heat. My Uncle Lou kept the stalls deeply bedded in long wheat straw and the stone walls freshly whitewashed. Jennette was co-operative but her yield was off to about half it had been only a year ago. And for the first time, she aborted her calf.

I took the pail to Aunt Ella. Her face drained of colour. 'Did Lou see this, Trey?'

'No, but he knows Aunt Ella. I'll take her, if you want.

'Oh no. Lou will want to do this himself. It's his responsibility.' She stroked my arm. 'You really love him, don't you?' She seemed in awe of that.

I bent down and kissed her cheek. 'I love you, too, Aunt Ella.' She smiled but her eyes sparkled with tears.

'You've always been a good boy.'

I went back to the milking shed and turned Jennette back into her night stall. I fed her some hay and put extra soy protein meal on her grain. It was probably a waste. She was too old for good conversion rates.

I heard Uncle Lou shut down the compressor and lock his work shed. He called into the milking shed. 'Trey, you in here?'

'Yeah, I'm nearly done.'

'How was Jennette, today?'

'Uh...we need to talk about her, Uncle Lou.'

He came over to Jennette and patted her head. 'I called Chad. He's coming tomorrow for her. I meant to tell you.'

'Fine.'

'She's not producing. She still quite young. Archie had a cow who went till she was 18.'

'Yeah.'

'Some females wear out faster.'

'Or run off.'

'Buck up, Trey. There will be plenty of Mary Janes and Calis.'

That prospect scared me like eternal damnation. 'You're the lucky one.' I scratched Jennette's head and she loughed softly. 'I'll load her, if you want Uncle Lou. I mean, since you made the call. Just taking some responsibility.'

Uncle Lou sniffed and wiped his nose with his farmer's handkerchief. 'Yeah, thanks, I got plough points to install tomorrow.'

graduation day

Seventeen days after the disappearance of Mary Jane what's-her-name, was graduation. Much of the snickering had died down, although Wren would tell me she thought she saw Mary Jane over at the bleachers, or in the detention room or office. It was all very, very funny, as I recall.

Mrs Brown, my geography teacher asked me in class about her.

'I don't know anything about her, Mrs Brown.'

Cali spoke up. 'Roman's telling the truth about that, Mrs Brown.'

The class laughed. It was very, very funny.

But it was the end of my high school career and, as much as I would miss ball, I was not going to miss the load of homework. Why I expected pre-med to be less of a work load I can't tell you.

Acceptance into pre-med at the University of Western Ontario in London came as a shock to all my former teachers and Wren.

'Are you doing this so I'm not special in this family anymore?'

'You're still special, Wren. I can't solve quadratics in my head.'

'But last year, you didn't even know they existed.'

That was true. My change of focus came after I got cocky during the first football game of the year against Coach Abode and the Central Crusaders. I had been on fire as they say. Short screens, long sideline passes, up the gut drives, and high-arcing floaters into the corner of the end zone. Everything worked.

At the half, Uncle Lou met me as I came off the field. 'You're hot-dogging. Scrambling too much.'

'They haven't caught me.'

'Yet.'

My Uncle Lou saw what Coach Abode saw. I was tiring a bit. And although it would take a miracle for them to turn the game around, they could teach the quarterback a lesson.

They came out blitzing, red-dogging we called it back then. They rushed five men. I ran and threw to my receivers, my half-backs and even my full-back. Touch down, touch down, touch down.

Coach Foote called me off the field. 'Smitty's taking over. We need to keep a few scores in that arm for next week.'

I was disappointed but I knew better than to argue with Coach Foote, especially with Uncle Lou and Aunt Ella in the stands. I handed over the ball to Smitty and I looked around for Cali and she waved at me. My hand did a little spastic shake back at her.

Central blitzed Smitty, too. He wasn't as quick as I was and he took a few hits, some late ones. He played the third quarter out. On the first play of the fourth quarter he got blindsided so hard his helmet popped off his head. He collapsed in a heap, out cold. The Crusaders gathered around him and laughed. There was some tussles on the field. Penalty flags littered the ground.

Coach Foote called me over. 'Don't get cute.'

'Yes, sir, Coach.'

It took fifteen minutes to put Smitty on a gurney, clear the field, and mark off the penalties. I was cooling off but didn't notice it because I was full of righteous anger. In the huddle we said a prayer for Smitty.

'Time to teach them a lesson. We go through the middle linebacker first.'

I lined my backs up a yard off the ball and I took a shotgun snap two yards back. Our centre pushed his man on his kester and we all hit the middle line backer, including me even though I could have made more yards. The kid got up a little reeky on his feet. I called the same play.

This time the kid backed up before he got hit. First down. He got up gasping for air. He started to leave the field. I shouted after him.

'Hey, we'll wait for you to get back. I'm calling the same play.'

The kid turned on his heel and trotted back into the defensive huddle, waving off his replacement and the coach's concerns. He was going to pay for this little rebellion, on and off the field.

I called out the play. 'Same as before, straight ahead over Wheezy there for ten yards.'

As I called for the ball, Wheezy screamed and ran over my centreman. He launched himself like a missile which I tried to fend off with my hands. He planted his helmet hard enough on my breastbone and hands that I dropped like a felled tree.

The next thing I knew I was looking up at Uncle Lou from the school nurse's office. 'The good news is you guys won the game.' Aunt Ella was stroking my head and Wren was reading the body systems chart on the wall.

'Who quarter-backed?'

'Janny.'

'What's the bad news?'

My Uncle Lou looked down at my arms. 'Two badly sprained wrists.'

Now that I didn't have to do milking each night, I had some extra time to study. Of course, I was resentful that my quarter backing career ended suddenly after such a promising start. Coach Foote took the news of my resignation from the position hard.

'Trey, are you sure you can't hang on to a ball as a fullback?'

'I'll try.'

Next game, I managed to hang to on for one play. Then I re-sprained both wrists blocking on the next play. End of football.

The extra study paid off immediately. Mr Attridge, my math teacher, smiled for the first time. 'Keep it up, Trey.'

Cali looked a little suspicious and in the hall she collared me. 'Is Wren helping you?' I nodded, I think. 'I thought so.'

But it wasn't Wren who was helping me, it was Uncle Lou.

'You have to figure out how you learn, Trey. I'd say you learn by looking.'

'Why?'

'Look at your notes. Full of doodles.'

'Boredom.'

'Stuff's too easy for you. And the doodling is disorganized. Turn your doodles into diagrams. Take on harder lessons.'

Take on was Uncle Lou's expression for study. He took on woodworking, mechanics, welding, and machining.

'How do I diagram information?'

Uncle Lou led me out to his shop. He handed me a Chilton Automotive manual for GMC Light Trucks and Vans. It was full of exploded diagrams of mechanical systems.

'Copy some of those. Start with the brake system.'

'I can't draw, Uncle Lou.' I held up my tightly wrapped wrists.

'Straight lines are all you need to make. It's the way they're organized that counts.'

My first attempts were sloppy but still conveyed information. I borrowed books from Wren and learnt to use Boolean symbols for relationships. As my wrists healed, my diagrams got cleaner and more complex.

My Uncle Lou showed me a fuel system from filler pipe to the injectors for a Cat diesel. I re-diagrammed it then overlaid a cross view drawing of one of the cylinders to show the four-stroke diesel cycle.

I showed it to Uncle Lou, he whistled and called Aunt Ella. 'Trey's a genius, Ella.'

Aunt Ella's face took on a glow. 'Of course, I knew that. I knew Trey was bright.'

'Trey's a genius, too.'

I knew the too meant Wren. Pippin was too beautiful, even as nine-year-old, for anyone to notice, or care, if she were a genius, too.

Wren studied my drawing over Mom's shoulder, who just sat staring with her hand over her mouth as if she was holding in something secret and dangerous. 'It resembles the pulmonary system on the chart in the nurse's office.'

'I don't understand it, Trey. But it is... beautiful. Perhaps you should be a mechanic or engineer.'

'Trey's smart enough to be a doctor.'

'That's high expectations from our other genius, Maddy.'

Pippin ducked under Mom's arm and pretended to inspect my diagram on her lap. 'It won't work.' Everyone laughed. 'Did I say something cute. Again?'

After chores I found Pippin with my diagram.

'If I rub it out it will work, Brother.'

'What?'

'Your picture. The pipe was blocked.'

Pippin pointed to an incidental mark on the diagram which would have blocked the fuel flow if it represented a real part of the system. 'If I rub it out, the gas can get to the motor.'

'Oh, that's just a little mark on the paper, not part of the drawing.'

'Sorry, Brother. I didn't know it was just an accident.' Pippin gave me a neck hug and wet kiss on the cheek. 'Sorry.'

I told Mom about it in the morning. 'I think Pippin is pretty smart, Mom.'

'No one will likely notice, Trey. Men won't get past her looks and women will resent her anyway.'

By mid-term, I was an A student. By year's end I was battling Cali for top senior student. Wren had forged ahead of even her teachers. Once she told her calculus teacher that if quantum mechanics was right, everything else in math was not dependably right and that would make math just voo-doo. Wren was so brilliant she was excluded from any academic prize.

When Doctor Cotrelle learned of this injustice, he awarded Wren a special prize of five hundred new silver dollars. Cali and I tied for the top senior academics prize and had to sit before a panel of teachers to answer questions about how we would change the world.

Cali went first. I can't tell what she said but she wore a short skirt which barely touched the seat bottom of the chair. She crossed her legs at the knee and entwined her foot behind her calf. I woke up to hear...thank you Mis Cotrelle. Mr Carson, same question...

You know who won and you know why. Jangled, again.

Both families waited in the hallway. My Uncle Lou took a look at Cali's skirt and sidled up to me. 'Don't worry, Trey. She nearly jangled me.'

Uncle Lou shook hands with Doctor Cotrelle. 'Thanks for recognizing Wren. And congratulations to your daughter.'

'Thank you, Mr Carson. She's off to law school.'

'Western?'

'Toronto.'

I had been jangled for the last time, I thought. She'd get a boyfriend and come back to Renwick at Christmas and Easter in a few years married with a troupe of kids. Later, I turned down an offer to get in on the ground floor in a little company run by a character by the name of Bill Gates, so my crystal ball has been overcast shall we say.

ceremony

Grad day was the hottest on record. The women were getting ready at my place and Uncle Lou and I were at the farm house. We did the chores a little early. We'd milked new Jennette about five minutes earlier each day for two weeks so we'd have an extra hour before the dinner which was followed by the ceremony and then a dance for the grads.

'Seems like yesterday, you popped out into the back seat of my Desoto.'

'Not to me.'

'Time's like new underwear to young people. You get the other side of forty and the elastic loses its snap.'

I was trying on the suit Mom and Aunt Ella had bought for me. It fit but the day was too hot for a suit. The day was too hot for a bathing suit.

'I think we must be falling into the sun, Trey. Does it look larger to you?'

'Do I really need to wear a tie? I bet Janny isn't.'

'Janny, isn't the valedictorian.'

'I wish they'd given it to Cali.'

'Women talk too long. Say thanks and get to the refreshments. Do you think I need to wear a tie?'

'If I do, you do.'

'I got nothing to do with the valedictory address.'

For once, Uncle Lou was wrong. He had lots to do with it.

The dinner was catered by the Baptist church ladies as were most events in Renwick from the football kick-off to hockey playoffs, from hospital fund raiser, to funerals, and weddings. I sat next to Cali and I ate almost nothing and said less. She must have thought, no, she did think I was a complete dolt.

After the usual blah, blah, blah from the principal, the head teacher, the township reeve, the butcher, the baker and the man on the moon, after the awards and diplomas for all 8 of us in the graduating class, it was my turn. But before I get to my speech let me say that in those days we wrote final exams called departmentals. They were standard across the province. Cali and I would have been top students in any school in Ontario. In my final year, besting Janny, in the classroom at least, or any of the other students in the area, wasn't much of a challenge. My only competition was Cali. And Wren.

'When my sister, Wren, gives the valedictory address, if she's allowed to, she will likely cite a list of authors and scientists and thinkers who influenced her academic career. I'm not saying that those people aren't important. I sneaked a few peeks at the books she studied since she was four. There's lots to learn in books and my sis is proof of that.

'But it wasn't great books which influenced me, except, I hope, the Good Book. No, the books which influenced me and drove me to get to this podium, were car fix-it manuals given to me by my mentor, Uncle Lou.

'He taught me to read and to think. To organize. To be responsible for the things I did and said. I let Uncle Lou and myself down once by trying to humiliate a proud young man and got two broken wrists for my arrogance. I'm sorry I did that to him and to you, Uncle Lou.

'Thank you, Aunt Ella, for treating me like a son and my sisters like daughters and loving my mother like a sister. And Mom, thanks for staying close to all the people I love.'

I didn't keep a written copy of my speech but I think I remembered it accurately. I do know that by the time I finished there wasn't a dry eye in the gymnasium. Even Janny was wiping his eye with his napkin. There was more to the speech, of course. The usual thanks to teachers, parent groups, librarians and janitors, and how my experience was mirrored, in some way, by all of members of the graduating class. But the important part has been said.

My Uncle Lou was a tad teary when we met after. 'You did fine. I think you over emphasized my role as a teacher, though. I had a heckuva good student.'

I was surrounded by students, staff, parents, and guests and received a lot of accolades. Cali pushed her way to me. 'You aren't tongue-tied after all.' Before I could answer she put her finger to my lips and I was tongue-tied after all, all over again.

That had to be my last jangling. But it wasn't.

Janny slapped me on the back. 'I start fishing full-time on the Lasher O on Monday.'

'Joining the old man, eh?'

'Family tradition, Trey. I haven't got the brains for school. Dad says the cycles right again. We gonna start making big money.'

'Jumbo did all right.'

'Yeah, Gramps did fine.'

Jumbo Janzen, Janny's grandfather, was a fishing legend and a shrewd business man who bought into several of the local fisheries instead of pissing it up against the wall, as he was fond of saying, overly fond, to Aunt Ella's mind. He'd drive Janny and me to play hockey on Stinky Creek at Sunlight Point on Saturdays, we'd skate home after along the lake then up the deep draw and split up at Yella Crick.

University

The University of Western Ontario was 102 miles from Renwick. But to a man with dairy cows it may as well been on the other side of the moon. A man can't leave his herd, no matter how small, for much longer than 12 hours unless he has a competent herdsman to fill in.

Citified, edufied,(I made it up!)rarefied folk don't understand the level of knowledge needed to keep stock, particularly milking stock, healthy, wealthy, and wise. A milch cow is always on the edge of being sick. Producing milk is hard work. Ask any lactating mom. On second thought, don't, just take my word for it.

What I'm getting at is, that Uncle Lou and I didn't see each other much during my years at university and I understood why. He did call weekly even though he regarded the telephone a tool to do business and not a substitute for meeting or palling around.

Nonetheless, Uncle Lou called every week and we talked. He'd ask about school. I'd ask about the farm and stock. He'd tell me about the bush and about planting acorns, gathering hickory nuts, and of a certain huge buck which bedded down near the big shagbark, the place where Recker attacked. More broad winged hawks this year. He'd tell me about Aunt Ella's canning or knitting project.

Sharla goes here second year

Nana had volunteered to teach baking to the grade eight girls at Ryerson Public School just a few blocks from her apartment. She was out three afternoons a week, so I started to study at home instead of staying at Western after my last class of the day. I had the place all to myself until about 4:30 on those afternoons.

It wasn't that Nana was a great distraction, really. But she constantly fussed with housework and cooking and such. And of course there was Coronation Street to watch in the afternoons.

She always checked the progress of my studies when she returned.

'Trey, do you have your math assignment done, it's due day after tomorrow. How many pages of your essay have you written. That's due next Wednesday.'

Nana brought me up to speed with her progress with her Home Ec class.

'Some of these girls haven't done any baking. Not even slicing off Pilsbury cookie dough.'

'I'll bet you will have whipped them into shape soon, Nana.'

'Nice kids. So grown up looking for 14 year-olds.'

'High protein diets, Nana, cause early onset of puberty.'

'Too bad high protein diets don't bring on early mental maturity, too. One girl skips class a lot. Pretty little blond thing. Victoria Whittaker. One of the other girls says she drives a car called a blue chee-tah or something like that to school.'

'I doubt that it's a Cheetah, Nana. That's a race car.'

'Well, it's something fast.'

'Nana, you said these kids are fourteen. She couldn't be driving. They're pulling your leg.'

'Perhaps, though the girls seemed very serious about it.'

'Should we order pizza? I need to go back to the library for a book. It closes early tonight.'

'Order pizza? That's not a meal. I'll have supper ready in twenty minutes. Work on that essay.'

The mere suggestion of ordering pizza always put Nana into supper-making overdrive. A long afternoon of study always made be ravenous.

I'd been living with Nana since coming to Western. Now, it was the start of my second year. It was beautiful weather and it felt good not to have chores, though I missed Uncle Lou and Aunt Ella. And Mom and the girls. We stayed in touch by phone but it wasn't the same. But living with Nana brought some connection to the rest of my family. When I saw what most university students lived through, I shuddered. I stayed as far as I could from the drinking and squalor of residency life.

'Don't hang around with the aimless, Trey.'

'I'm not Uncle Lou. These guys sleep till noon, miss most of their classes, and buy essays and answers. I don't know why they came to university.'

'Worse, Trey. They don't know. I'm not against a man having his fun, but do the work first. And watch out for women.'

'I have been, but there's none on the horizon. Not on my horizon anyway.'

'Do you hear from Cali?'

'Janny, does once in a while, when he's in Toronto. He's dating an actress, last year's Miss Canada or runner up or something.'

'Hot cha cha?'

'In spades.'

'Stay away from actresses. Too much histrionics.'

Uncle Lou didn't take his own advice. Maybe that's why he warned me. 'Are you sure you didn't study English with Professor Smythe-Jones?'

'I've studied for twenty years with Professor Wrennie Carson, remember.'

'How's Mom?'

'A little lonely. With you and Wrennie gone. We all miss you kids. Ella, too.'

'Is Pippin helping out?'

'Pippie does chores with me.'

'Juxtaposition of glamour with the rustic.'

'She's well-grounded. That's a wonder, I suppose.'

'She's had you and Aunt Ella to teach her right from wrong.'

'Thanks, Trey. You remember that, too.'

'Of course. You've been like a dad to me.'

Uncle Lou sniffed. 'Call me next week?'

'Why break a habit? Kiss Mom and Aunt Ella for me. And Pip.'

I was in a study carrel at Weldon Library on one of the days Nana was home, poring over calculus problems for my second-year bio-mechanics course, when an elegant hand reached over the front panel and switched off the reading lamp. Looking up, I saw a bobbed blonde waif with an atomic smile and huge hazel eyes. Nearly as tall as Pippin and slender as willow. A contemporary Amelia Earhart.

'I'm hungry.'

'Hi, Hungry, I'm Trey Carson.'

'Handsome and witty. Sharla Whittaker.'

'Sharla, what are you hungry for?' I stood up to see the entirety of this creature. Her skirt starts late and ends early, as Uncle Lou said later. Not complaining though. Janny marvelled that 90 pounds of girl could create that much woman.

She looked me up and down. 'Beer and the shotgun steak at the Smoke House. You know the place?'

'Yeah, downstairs at the Silver Dollar.'

'Well? Your car or mine?'

'It will have to be yours, Sharla. I'm just a poor med student.'

'For now, Doctor Carson.'

Oh yes, Charlotte Sharla Whittaker, niece of the University president, but definitely the other side of the tracks part of the family. She just didn't look it.

'My old man robs banks so he can afford to buy me a GTO.'

'Sounds like my dad, only he didn't buy me a car.'

'We were made for each other, Trey. I like that name, Trey.'

'Thank you.'

'Sharla and Trey. Goes well together.'

We crossed the Sarnia Road to her GTO in the parking lot of Huron College. Sharla skipped as she walked, clinging to my arm, pushing her breasts into me, and talking non-stop.

'I have two sisters, both older, and two brothers, both younger. I think most of them are half-siblings, Mom slept around a lot. I don't, in case you're wondering.'

'Too bad.' I hung my head in mock disappointment.

'I didn't say you wouldn't get lucky.'

'Am I dreaming this?'

'I'm not saving my virginity forever. It's for the right man. I think it's you, Trey.'

'Can we have dinner first?'

'You would take my virginity? If I offered it?'

More talk like this and I might take it, offered or not. 'Any man would, Sharla.'

'Yeah, that's for sure. You can't believe the close calls I've had.'

'I think I can. Yes, I really think I can.'

'Men will say anything to have sex. That's the trouble.' When we got to her car, she flipped me the keys. 'You can drive a stick, of course.'

'I can drive anything.'

'This is a 389, six pack, 4.11 posi rear.'

'Hurst shifter?'

'Yep.'

'How do you know these things?'

'My Uncle Lou is a mechanic.'

'I have an Uncle Lou.'

'Is he a mechanic?'

'Among other things.'

'Fate, Trey. I'd say my virginity is doomed before much longer.'

'I'd say you were right, Sharla.' Oh yes, in the crosshairs and finger on the trigger.

I was under-dressed for the Smoke House, so I borrowed a jacket and tie from the coat check girl. A perusal of my wallet indicated I'd have to watch the extra drinks and go easy of dessert. Sharla noticed the look of concern.

'I'm paying.'

I looked up at the ceiling. 'I imagined heaven would have higher ceilings.'

She kissed me flush on the lips, her breasts felt like hot coals on my chest. 'You're sweet.'

The maitre d' seated us. He exuded an air of concern over my appearance. Sharla slipped me a five dollar bill which I slipped into the maitre d's hand and his concern was immediately dispelled. He lightly brushed some lint off the jacket. 'Now it's perfect, sir.'

When I ordered two Labatt 50s, the waitress asked to see Sharla's ID. She pulled a driver's license from her purse. The waitress looked it over and smiled. 'Thank you, Miss James.'

With the waitress well clear of the table I raised my eyebrow.

'I must have given her my friend's ID.'

'You're not legal?' I meant not 21, the legal drinking age at the time.'

'Not quite.' It proved to be an understatement.

We ordered our steaks medium-well and Sharla got extra fries instead of a salad.

'I have to work at staying at 100 pounds, Trey. I'm thin enough.'

'You look great.' I watched her eat for a few minutes. 'You were kidding about your dad, weren't you?'

'No. He robs banks.'

'That's dangerous to let people know that.'

'Nobody knows. Just you. Dad doesn't even know that I'm on to him.'

'How do...on second thought, let's drop it.' I really didn't believe Sharla's story. But, I really didn't disbelieve it either.

Her voice was as lovely as her smile. He laughter was soft and full and genuine. Part way through our meal the piano player started chording his way through the old standards.

'I love Cole Porter, don't you, Trey?'

'My Aunt Ella is a fan. I'm not musical, at all, like my Uncle Lou.'

'My Uncle Lou loves the Stones.'

Sharla listened intently to the chording, smiling at intervals and seeming puzzled at others. She flashed the piano player a megawatt smile. 'Do you take requests?'

Mr Piano Man smiled back. 'What's your pleasure, Hon?'

'Begin the Beguine, please.' Mr Piano Man plays a chord. Sharla shakes her curls. 'In A, please.' Mr Piano Man plays a cascade of chords and notes. 'Nice modulation, what's your name?'

'Phil.'

'Sharla.'

And Sharla started to sing, rising from her chair, slipping through the minefield of tables to the piano bench. The diners looked up from their meals, drawn away from their conversations, or ennui, and were held rapt, by a waif of a girl-woman with an angelic voice.

I noticed several people, not everyone of them a woman, were drying their eyes. The applause was respectful, as if we had all heard a sacred song.

Sharla strafed the room with her smile and kissed Phil's cheek. On her way back to the table, she was stopped by diners and congratulated. I stood by the table like a stage door Johnny.

'I'm overwhelmed.'

'By the song?'

'By you. That was beautiful beyond anything I can tell you.'

'That sounds like a line Cole might have written.'

'I knew it didn't sound like me. Do you do this sort of thing regularly?'

'Only for people I like.'

'I wish I could repay you.'

'You will, Trey.'

And I did. But it came much later in my life.

Despite the Sharla's provocative talk of her virginity, she did not surrender it that night, which was fortunate for both of us, as it turned out.

'Why did you...'

'Throw myself at you?'

'I wouldn't have put it that way but...why?'

'Handsome, nice strong build, smart as the dickens, serious.'

'Serious? I thought women were looking for spontaneous and fun? Someone cool.'

'Girls are looking for that. You are serious about your studies.'

'Except tonight.'

'I had to see what power I have over you, Trey. You could be too darn serious.'

We nearly could look straight into each other's eyes when she was in heels. I held her close. My hand spanned the small of her back and the warmth of her seeped into me. I couldn't let go of her.

There was nothing beyond her face. The world had gone out of focus or had dropped away. She kissed me good night and drove away before I realized I hadn't gotten her phone number.

Nana had waited up for me. She knew I hadn't been studying.

'You met someone interesting by the look of you.' She turned to the kitchen. 'I have supper for you. Not completely ruined.'

'Sorry, Nana.'

'Well, tell me about this woman. How did you meet her?'

'She met me. I was studying...'

'...studying what?'

'Really, calculus. And this girl switched off my study light and invited me to dinner.'

'Not that Mary Jane character?'

'No, Sharla, Charlotte Whittaker.'

'Whittaker? Does she live around here?'

I ignored that question, or didn't hear it. 'Nana, this girl sings like an angel.'

'She gave you a concert?'

'We had dinner at the Smokehouse and she sang with the piano guy. And she ate the Shotgun Steak with a large order of fries.'

'A substantial girl.'

'No, a wreathe of smoke of a girl. Slender as spring asparagus.'

Nana laughed. 'I hope her complexion isn't like spring asparagus.'

'Did I say that?'

'You're twitter-pated. You need to get control of this, Trey. Remember your studies.'

'Sharla likes me because I am serious about my studies.'

'But every woman wants you to be more serious about her, more serious about her than anything else. We're not made to be a man's second love. Not made to be that and be happy in any case.'

'Yeah.'

'You have personal experience about all of that. Come on, I know you can eat another steak.' I suppose any other day I could have. But after picking at Nana's Swiss steak for a while she shook her head. 'This girl has you shaken, Trey, my boy. Does she live around here?'

I shrugged. 'I didn't even get her phone number.'

'Didn't get her number? Don't worry, she got yours.'

And in many more ways than one.

That night I slept fitfully. I couldn't get Sharla out of my mind. No, that's not completely true. Visions of Cali kept floating up into my consciousness. I hadn't seen Cali since high school graduation and it didn't seem I was likely, too. And why should I care? Cali had never shown any interest in me. Sharla thought I was made for her, her soul mate as it became to be known. It was time to give up on Cali.

Next afternoon, Sharla met me at Weldon Library again.

'How did you know I'd be here?'

'You better be here, Doctor Carson, when you are not with me.'

I didn't hear the threat, although it looks sinister on the page. 'I didn't get your phone number.'

'You were too mesmerized to ask.' She set off another smile and kissed my cheek, like an old friend. 'Will you take me to a movie?'

'The Fantasticks is playing at the Grand. Would you like to go?'

'Can you get tickets for tonight?'

'I have a contact.'

'I'll meet you at your grandmother's in three hours.'

'The road's torn up for sewers or something. I meet you out-front. On Richmond.'

'Ashamed to show me to your grandma?'

'No. But there's no where to park within two blocks right now.'

It might have been better had she met Nana then. Or rather met Nana again.

My contact was Janny who had been dating an actress in the Grand Theatre Acting Troupe.

'Janny, it's Trey.'

'Hey, what's going on?'

'You still friendly with DeAnne? I need tickets for the show tonight.'

'Hot date?'

'Very, very hot.'

'I can fix you up, Trey. Meet me in fifteen minutes before curtain. They won't be front row but decent enough.'

'Thanks, Janny.'

'Is it Cali?'

'No. Have you seen her?'

'I ran into her in Toronto a few weeks ago.'

'What'd she say?'

'About what?'

'Anything.'

'Not much. Her folks bought a place up in Muskoka or Haliburton and she'd been spending time there with her study group.'

'How'd she look?'

'Great. You know Cali.'

We met in the lobby of the Grand Theatre and I introduced Sharla to Janny.

She was wearing a black jacket over a slinky black dress with spaghetti straps, scoop neckline and a ruffled hem just above the knee, and patent leather high heels, toe-less with an ankle strap. A lot of her tan skin showed. To the delight of Janny and every male lucky enough to get a squint at her. A few women turned up their noses. But their men looked on appreciatively.

'Janny, Trey has said very nice things about you.'

'I'm sure some of them are true. He told me nothing about you, Sharla, except you were gorgeous. And he's right.'

Actually, I had told Janny nothing at all about Sharla. I guess I'd said hot, hot date. Janny always knew what to say.

'Is DeAnne in the show tonight?'

'Oh yes. Want to go for drinks after?'

I looked to Sharla, she nodded. 'Sure.'

Janny left for backstage and Sharla and I got seated. They were not front row tickets but they were centre stage and far enough back to be able to look straight and level.

'Janny's girlfriend is playing the lead tonight, Luisa.'

'He's cocksure of himself.'

'He has a way with women, I guess.'

'Yes, he does, Trey.' I thought her look darkened a bit. 'Tell me about the play.'

'Neighbouring fathers build a wall between their houses...'

'...to stop their children from falling in love.'

'No. To encourage it. Reverse psychology.'

'Did it work?'

'For a while.'

'Until they knew they'd been tricked.'

'You've seen it?'

'No one likes to be tricked.' Sharla went quiet for a few minutes.

After the play, Janny met us, sans DeAnne, in the lobby.

'DeAnne thinks she's catching something. I have to take back my invite for drinks. I must get Deanne home and see that she is well rested for tomorrow's matinee.'

'That's so thoughtful. Another time, Janny.'

'I hope there will be another time, Sharla.'

'Me, too.'

It was just as well. Sharla would have had to produce the phony ID and there may be questions. Not from Janny but from DeAnne was as arrow straight as she was glamorous.

'Would you like to walk in Victoria...'

'Did you call me Victoria?' Sharla seemed to shrink away.

'No, Victoria Park. Let's walk through it. It's safe.'

'Not that safe.' And Sharla took my arm and leaned into my side. She was as warm as a whip lash.

It was a very balmy September night. After our walk in Victoria Park, we headed back to Sharla's GTO. She hung onto my arm and sang all the way.

'Soon it's gonna rain...' All verses and key changes.

'Do you always remember all the words?'

'Usually. It's a pretty song.'

'You could play the part of Luisa.'

'No, she didn't know what she wanted. I do.'

'That's why it's called acting, Sharla, you pretend.'

'It has to be part of you. Luisa, wanted to be upset with the trick her father had played. It was an excuse to leave. She really didn't love Matt.'

'And he didn't love her?'

'Got confused by lust and rebellion and wanderlust.'

'You're serious little creature, aren't you?'

'Very. Let's go somewhere so I can take off these shoes.'

'Would you like to drive out to Shaw's Drive-In?'

'You drive.'

'My pleasure.'

In the age of muscle cars, not much stayed with a GTO on the street, and nothing had more sex appeal. Sharla and a GTO was like pie and ice-cream. No, it was like sex and more sex.

Sharla's GTO was blue on blue leather with a chrome handled Hurst shifter. A big black on white tach stood off the steering column. I goosed the throttle and the tach needle bounced to five grand and four pipes roared like a fighter engine.

I headed south on Richmond Street to King Street turned left and headed west to Wellington then left again, north to Dundas and right down Dundas about fifteen miles to Shaw's Drive-In near the Shaw Sideroad, street drag racers favourite quarter mile in the London area.

Shaw's served the best and biggest burgers and shakes for fifty miles.

'Are you hungry, Sharla?'

'Always. You don't think I'm a pig?'

'No. Taking most women to dinner is a little disappointing because they just pick at stuff.'

'Want to wring it out along the sideroad?'

'Your car?'

'Sure.'

I had been driving since I was eight, tractors, motorbikes, cars, trucks, snowsleds, but I'd never driven such a powerful car. The Gee-tow was the heavyweight KO champ at the time.

We headed past Shaw's drive-In and turned south on the Shaw Sideroad. Other racers were there, of course. I got in line, paired up with a 69 Super Bee Dodge.

'What are you running?'

'Stock 389 six pack, 4.11 posi, street meats. You?'

'Four-thirteen wedge twin quads, 3.76 posi auto.'

'Head to head?'

'Okay. What are you putting up?'

'Burgers and shakes.'

'For my girl, too?'

'If she rides.' I revved the GTO for emphasis.

'You're on. One trip. The guys at the finish decide, if we're too close to call.'

'Okay. I want fries, too.'

'Done.'

'Any go fast hints, Sharla?'

'Drop the clutch at three grand power shift at six.'

I did as instructed and the GTO spun off the line and powered through the quarter-mile a half-second faster than the Dodge. I lightly braked down from about 105 miles an hour and stopped about 300 yards from the finish.

Dodge boy turned around and pulled alongside. 'Are you sure that thing's stock?'

'Ask the lady. She owns it.' Sharla fired off a smile.

'Hot damn. Why didn't she drive?'

'She thought you needed an advantage.'

Dodge boy laughed good naturedly. 'My baby's overheating.' He flicked ten bucks across to me. That should buy burgers.'

'Thanks. What's your name?'

'Bill Kydd. Yours?'

'Trey Carson.'

'I'll remember that. If you're at the Grand Bend drags, you can jam gears on my race rod.'

Years later, I met him again, but he was in no shape to recognize me. Janny and I had taken a weekend off from our families and attended the drag races at Grand Bend. We went first class with VIP pit passes. We'd been in the pit about 30 minutes when an explosion blew both of us off our feet. Janny's shirt was pocked with holes but otherwise he was unhurt. I had scraped my left elbow and lost my 30 minute old Grand Bend Dragway ball cap.

Out of the general commotion I heard an announcement over the PA system. 'We need a doctor at the pit ambulance station. Please, we need a doctor now.'

Janny and I ran the 50 yards to the ambulance station. 'I'm Doctor Trey Carson.'

'Doc, our paramedics were injured in the explosion.'

'Drive us to the spot, now.'

The young driver got us to the accident without incident, barely. I checked out the equipment in the back of the step van style ambulance. Very well equipped.

In fact the paramedics had very slight burns, but a driver of Will's Fargo was severely burned. The driver was, of course, Bill Kydd. I treated him but he was barely conscious. I called in a chopper from University Hospital and had Bill Kydd loaded into the ambulance. We raced along highway 7 and was met by the chopper in about 20 minutes. They took him for there.

Two days later, Bill Kydd called me in Toronto. 'Are you the Trey Carson who drove a GTO and beat me in a drag on Shaw Side Road?'

'Yep. How are you?'

'Still warm! What happened to that girl you were with?'

Everyone remembered Sharla.

Weekends passed much like this; dinner, movie, or walk in the park. We kissed and cuddled but never went any further. We avoided bars and so I never saw the phony ID again.

And she hadn't met Nana, yet.

'Are you hiding this girl?'

'No, Nana. There's nowhere to park so it's just easier for us to meet at Western.'

'Nana would love to meet you, Sharla.'

'Next time, Trey.'

I shrugged. 'Next time.'

A month passed.

'When are you going to bring her in to meet me?' Nana was ironing a shirt for me.

'I think she's shy, Nana.'

'Not if she sings in restaurants. She hiding something.'

'What? What could she be hiding? Hiding something from you?'

It really was just easier to meet at Western and get dropped off on Richmond Street. Nana shook her head when I came in but said nothing after the first few times.

One afternoon as I entered Weldon Library, I realized I'd left my essay notes at home. I called Nana and asked her to bring them down. I was a good thirty minute walk from her apartment.

'I noticed them on the table. I be there in 40 minutes. Where do I met you?'

'I'll be in the library foyer.'

I went to the stacks and found a few relevant tomes on mechanical limits of bone. A half-hour had passed so I went to the front doors to wait. As a bus pulled up, Sharla came bouncing up the stairs.

She kissed me. 'Surprised?'

'Yes.' As I said that Nana entered the foyer with my notes in hand. 'Nana I want you to meet...' I slowly spun Sharla around.

'...Victoria?'

'...Sharla... Victoria? Who's Victoria?'

'Your girlfriend. My erstwhile baking student. Victoria what are you trying to pull here?'

Sharla, buried he head into my chest and wept. Everyone was staring at us, I thought. 'Let's go to the cafeteria.'

I found a corner table. 'Sharla, are you Victoria Whittaker?'

She nodded weakly.

'Trey, this girl is only fourteen.' Nana slipped between me and Sharla, er Victoria. 'You sit over there. You haven't touched her, have you?'

'No, Nana.'

'Thank God for that.' Sharla was still weeping. 'Vicky, hon, take a deep breathe. Why are you pretending to be this Sharla woman?'

'I wanted to make something of myself.'

Victoria Charlotte Whittaker. Victoria, Vicky, Sharla, take your pick, had been casing Western's medical school for two weeks before she settled on me.

'I snuck into some classes, the big ones and watched men I was attracted to, to see if they were serious students.'

'Why?'

'Why? I told you my Dad's a bank robber. That's not that secure.'

'And you drive?'

'I had to. He's drunk a lot between robberies.'

'So, he bought you a car.'

'No, I stole the money from him and bought it. He doesn't know about this. I park it in the neighbour's driveway. She's an old lady, my Dad doesn't fraternize with the neighbours.'

'I imagine not.'

'Trey, we have to do something.'

'Don't send me to jail or social, please, Miss Belle.'

'You'd rather be with your Dad than social services?'

'Oh, yes. So would you if you knew how awful it is.'

'I need to study, Nana. I need to do that now.'

'Vicky, come back to my place and we'll figure something out.'

'Promise you won't send me to social, please.'

Nana drew her lips tight and nodded. 'We're taking the bus. Give your keys to Trey. And Trey, you get home as soon as you are finished here.'

'Yes, mam.'

As they left Sharla looked back, heartbroken. I looked back at her, heartbroken. Suddenly study seemed unimportant.

dealing with Sharla

I stayed in my study carrel my usual four hours. I had one lecture in biochemistry. I ate the lunch Nana had packed for me on the way back to Weldon. As usual.

It was a long trudge to the GTO and the drive wasn't nearly as much fun.. I felt a strange admixture of feelings. Every hunter experiences at the kill, feelings of triumph and sadness perhaps regret. But everything is mixed and swirled together. I felt that now. Regret, loss, and relief, if I let myself recognize it. Sharla was determined to have me. Determined to offer herself to me. I shuddered at that thought. Statutory rape was still a big deal in 1971. Men did go to jail. Sharla was fourteen.

But regret, too, was swirling in me. Everyone wants to be adored and Sharla, obviously did adore me. And I was falling in love with this beautiful creature. Or maybe, I had already fallen in love with her. She interrupted my studies and I went along with her whims. I ignored her avoidance of questions and frankly, didn't believe the answers she gave me. Her Dad was a bank robber? Cute.

I also ignored her obvious girlishness but, in my defence, no one took me aside and said, hey, this is a girl, not a woman, not twenty, not eighteen, even. I should have asked to look at her driver's license. Of course she wouldn't qualify for one for two more years. She was closer to Pippin's age! I never wondered that I never saw her not all glammed up. Never dressed casually. But if I had, I am not sure I could have allowed myself to see a fourteen year-old.

Nana had Sharla washed clean when I arrived home. Sharla was raw from crying and her glamour was replaced by a tired frayed look which I found alluring. She reached for me but Nana interceded.

'We'll keep this verbal. If you meet again in four years, that'll be time for footsie.'

'Nana, I...' I couldn't protest. I should have thanked her.

'Sharla can't go home. I think it's dangerous. Hon, your Dad's going to get caught.'

'Are you going to call the cops on him?'

'No. Unless he hurt someone.'

'He just hands over a note and pretends to have a gun. He shot a toe off his right foot one day practising.'

I laughed out loud. 'Sorry.'

'You must hate me, Trey. I didn't ... I wasn't going to let you get into trouble with me until I was old enough.'

Nana shook her head. 'If you light a fuse, Hon, you never know when it's going to go off.'

Yeah. 'Sharla, I don't hate you. Really.'

Sharla wept in Nana's arms. I went to get a drink of Nana's medicinal brandy.

'If she can't go home, where is she going to go, Nana.'

'She must have relatives. Hon, do you have aunts or uncles?'

'Just Aunt Bettie, in Revelstoke.'

'B.C.?'

'Yep.'

'Would she take you in?'

Sharla shrugged.

'We can't send her to Revelstoke, Nana.'

'Why not?'

'Because it's three thousand miles away.' It seemed like a reason at the time.

Nana stood up and slapped my forehead. 'That's exactly the reason which makes it perfect.'

'OK but two people may object, Sharla's old man and Aunt Bettie.'

'We'll we have leverage over Sharla's dad and I'll deal with Aunt Bettie.' Nana turned back to Sharla. 'Aunt Bettie's not a bank robber, is she?'

'No. But she knows her brother is.'

'Then, this is perfect.'

Sharla stayed the night. I didn't. Nana shooed me out.

'Crash at Janny's.' Janny had quit fishing and was now selling fish to restaurants from Windsor to Toronto.

'Crash? Where'd you pick up that lingo?'

'The Mike Douglas Show. Here's fifty dollars. Don't come back until I call you.'

'I don't know where I'll be.' I didn't want to leave Sharla.

'I'll leave word at Janny's. And I'll bring fresh laundry. Take your school books.'

Despite my 100 pound advantage, Nana shooed me out. The only good thing was that I had the GTO keys. I got down to the street and Nan shouted from the balcony.

'Throw those keys up here. I'm selling it.'

'Nana, you're a hard women.'

'I need to be to kept you on the straight and narrow. Give Janny my love.'

'Yeah.'

'Trey?'

'What, Nana?'

'I love you.'

'I know. I know. Me, too. Take care of her.'

'You know I will, Trey. If it's real, she'll wait.'

call about Sharla

'What's troubling you, son?'

'Sharla...'

'You broke up with her?'

'It's more complicated than that.'

'With women, it usually is.'

I told Uncle Lou the whole story.

'Spunky little thing. But on your honour, you never touched her?'

'On my honour. I wanted to, though.'

'That would be normal.'

'Nana's arranging for Sharla to stay with her Aunt Bettie in Revelstoke. Nana's selling the GTO so Sharla won't be a financial burden.'

'Are you all right?'

'Yeah, I think so.'

'You aren't going to do something crazy like run out to Revelstoke.'

'I hope not.'

'You call me before you leave. Promise?'

'Yeah.'

'If it's real, she'll wait.'

'Nana said the same thing.'

'She's a smart old girl.'

And so Sharla blazed through my life like a comet. And like a comet, Sharla would circle back, again.

cali contacts me

Nana kept in contact with Sharla, who she now, once again, called Vicky.

'Vicky's doing fine. She's going to graduate and attend Revelstoke High School in September.'

I winced at the Revelstoke High School detail, which Nana had thrown in for that very effect.

'Did she ask about me?'

'I don't encourage her do to that, Trey. She's a little girl who got confused by all the womanly things starting to happen in her. You know that, or should know it, better than me. You're the doctor!'

Wren would have corrected the grammar but the diagnosis was right. 'Tell her I miss her.'

'You wonderful, deaf, idiot.'

'I don't want her to think I abandoned her.'

'She knows that, but I am not going to lead her down another primrose path. When she's eighteen, you can call and carry on like cats. But that's nearly four years away.'

In four years, I'd be an intern and she'd be a high school grad. I'd have to wait another two or three years to make it respectable. The math was going to take some time to work out in my favour. And who's to say Sharla would wait. Teen age girls have crushes by the week. So Pippin tells me.

third year

Gradually, I got over Sharla. I never told anyone the truth about it, except Uncle Lou. Janny was sad we'd never gone out for drinks with DeAnne.

My calls to Uncle Lou remained part of my weekend. The farm was as good as could be expected. The chickens were laying unusually large eggs for this time of year. Probably because Pippin was coddling them. Helen Foster's 69 Fairlane needed shocks. Archie shot a brush wolf the size of a timber wolf. The Reverend was enjoying a spell of poor health and Jack Glover was substituting. Mom had been lonely so they went on a picnic at the lake. Got back late.

I didn't ask if anyone else made up the they, besides Uncle Lou and Mom. But I didn't need to, really. Got back late, told me.

Studies were going well. I'd have to intern in Toronto soon. Janny and I went to the London Folk Festival and he left with a folk singer named Moon Beam Harris.

'Any other news, Trey?'

Usually there wasn't anything. But one day. 'Cali dropped by on the way home.'

'Did you clam up again?'

'We didn't have much time together, I had to study.'

'Good boy. Call you next week. Say hi to Belle. Bye.'

Cali dropped by.

I was studying for an end of term in my third year. I was in the medical program proper now and the study load was nearly overwhelming. Everyone in the class was intelligent and driven to get perfect marks. No coasting allowed.

I was still living with Nana, still only a few blocks from the university. I still had my own room and Nana still sent me off with a bag lunch each day. I still walked to and from school daily, even in bad weather. I still kept to myself and even resisted Coach Decker's appeals to try out for the football team. I was some sort of recluse, I guess. Still smarting about Sharla.

Cali dropped by. I hadn't seen her since graduation night. I drove by her folk's place in Renwick every time I went back but I never managed to stop in. I heard the family had bought a place in Bermuda, intending to spend Christmas there in the future. Dr Cotrell came up to me in the Leamington library, I'd come home for slack week, and he asked how I was doing. He was very interested that I was doing so well. I asked about Cali. Dr Cotrelle grimaced, I thought. 'Cali is spending the summer in Europe. With friends.'

'Say hi for me, please.'

With friends.

Nana called from the kitchen for me to get the door. I rolled off the couch still reading about edemas as I opened the door.

'Aren't you happy to see me?'

Yes. Yes I was. And she was more gorgeous than ever. Tanned and sparkling.

'Cali.'

Nana heard the familiar voice and came from the kitchen. 'Invite her in, Trey.'

'Hello, Belle.'

'Cali, you look wonderful.' Nana and Cali hugged.

'We spent the week at our place in Bermuda.'

'Nice tan.'

'Help her off with her coat, Trey. I'll make tea.' Nana left us there in the little foyer.

As I took hold of the coat, Cali looked back. 'I might bite.'

'I don't care if you do.' I playfully held my hand up near her mouth.

'You should.' Cali bit just above my wrist, hard enough to draw a drop of blood into which she dipped her finger and then drew down my cheek.

'How'd you know about that?'

'I heard you talking at school, Trey.'

Nana broke up our little ritual. I hid the blood smear from her, washing it off thoroughly but with regret.

After tea and cake with Nana. Cali said she had to leave, so I walked her to her Mercedes, parked under a huge maple.

'Why did you come here, Cali?' It was a little more abrupt than I would have liked.

'I'm going to Europe this summer.'

'I know. I ran into your dad. With friends, I hear.'

'Come with me.'

'I can't, I'll be working as an orderly. Your dad got me the job. Why are you asking me?'

'You like me, don't you?'

Jangled. I nodded.

'Take a breath. I won't...'

'Bite?'

'... judge you.' Cali pushed me up against the huge maple. 'Kiss me.'

I kissed her and it was as sweet and raging as any adolescent dream of a kiss ever was. Even Cali seemed impressed.

'Come with me, Trey. Just for the summer.'

'I can't...I promised...'

'I feel safe with you. Ever since you brought my apple back from Janny.'

'I'm surprised you remember that.'

'I'm sorry I didn't thank you. Think about it. You and I. Europe. Summer.'

'I've got to get back to my studies, Cali.'

'Think about it. Please, Trey?'

I studied and wrote a fine exam the next morning, not allowing myself to think about that kiss and Cali's pleading for me to accompany her to Europe. It should have been a slam dunk. I kept hearing, with friends, just for the summer, just, just for the summer with friends.

Cali called me weekly from Toronto.

'Trey, my dad will pay.'

'Cali, I can't take your dad's money.'

'You and your pride, Trey.'

I moved out of Nana's place two weeks before finals.

'Why are you leaving, Trey? It doesn't make sense. I'll tell Cali you aren't here.'

'Now, you won't have to lie.'

'Where will you be?'

'Not telling. Then you can't lie about that it either. I will call every night. Nana, I love you but I must do this.'

'You're the exact opposite of your father, Trey. What would Wren say? Diametrically, yes diametrically opposite.'

Nana was exactly wrong, though I didn't know it at the time. 'Thanks, Nana.'

Cali could have found me at school. The exam locations weren't government secret but she had exams at the same time so I'd be safe from her pleadings and charms.

Then came the Snow Squall of April 1971 and my final got postponed two days. The storm missed Toronto and Cali drove her Mercedes 300 4-matic through a foot of snow from Woodstock to Western, meeting me just as I was entering the exam room at Alumni Hall.

'Cali, I can't talk now.'

She took me by the lapels. 'I'm going. Are you coming?'

'No.'

She shook her head with disdain, I thought. She turned and drove away. It looked like a final going away.

Part of me wanted to call out. 'Cali, I'll come with you.'

I don't remember writing the exam. My professor called me at Nana's to ask if I'd been ill. My mark was a failure, a bad one.

'Mr Carson, I can arrange another exam for you.'

'Was it that bad?'

'Yes. Were you ill?'

'I lost a close friend.'

'You should have told us.'

'I didn't realize how much I was damaged.'

'You will accept the chance to re-write?'

'Yes, sir. Thank you.'

'Tomorrow at ten, my office.'

'Thanks, Professor.'

I resolved right there to take a second chance. If I got one.

The next day, I rewrote a nearly perfect exam and so, regained my place at the top level of the class. A week stretched between me and the start of my orderlie's job at the hospital in Leamington.

Nana and I rode the Greyhound to Wheatley, where the whole family met us, including Jiggs, with a greying muzzle, and a stiffened gait, jumped out the Suburban to greet me. Followed by Pippin.

'Hi, Brother!'

'I made a roast and pie, Trey'

'I can smell it from here, Aunt Ella.'

'Give your Mom a hug.'

'Hi Trey! Did you bring Grey's Anatomy for me?'

'I thought you were going to be a math prof, Wren?'

Of course, it was much more confusing than this. I got into the front seat with Uncle Lou and Aunt Ella, Nana in the middle row with Mom and Jiggs, Pippin and Wren in the back row.

'Are you a doctor yet, Trey?'

'No, Mom.'

'It's taking a long time, Brother.'

'Cali dropped by looking for you, yesterday.'

'When's she leaving for Europe?'

'This morning.'

'She told me she had visited you. Why didn't you tell me?'

'Nothing to tell, Mom.' I wished I had had something to tell about Cali and me. I turned to Aunt Ella. 'Apple pie?'

'Just for you, Trey.'

After supper, Uncle Lou took me aside. 'Are you still moony over Sharla?'

'No. That whole thing was stupid.'

Chores again

I was happy to return to chores in the sweet smelling milking shed. It had been two months since I had done chores and I felt a bit out of shape.

Typically, Uncle Lou had two milkers, a calf, a yearling beef heifer, two sows with piglets, six ewes with spring lambs, and about two dozen hens which were allowed to free range, and a hundred capons raised in a movable enclosure to stop them wandering yet allow them to range over areas and feed naturally.

Aunt Ella turned the extra milk into butter and cheese and ice cream. Of course, the calf drank a quarter of the daily yield and the pigs drank all the whey from cheese and butter making. Aunt Ella sold or traded butter and cheese for Mennonite sausage, fancy apples, and pie cherries. Pigs were sold to pay taxes, in the good years. Eggs were sold fresh, or pickled to the local Legion.

We had a big garden but Uncle Lou didn't grow crops. It would have required a lot of special equipment. It made sense to buy corn and wheat and roasted soys from the elevator. Never a crop failure, Uncle Lou said.

In the summer, we'd catch perch in Lake Erie. In the fall we hunted whitetail, and made cider of apples from hundred year- old trees, in winter we shot cottontail and jacks, in spring we planted the garden and tended it all summer.

There was no shortage of work and everyone had chores of some kind. Mom looked after the salad garden, when she could, though usually Wren and little Pippin did the daily picking. I kept the garden weeded by mulching it with leaves we gathered in the fall and placed within a circle of snow fencing.

The major source of income was welding and fixing and mechanicking, as Uncle Lou put it. He repaired or maintained vehicles, tractors and wagons, for many of the township's farmers and businessmen. Almost every mechanic back then was self-taught and self-employed.

slack week out of order create a flashback

Cali dropped by. I kept thinking back to that. Nana had seen I was moody and suggested I go home for what was known a Slack Week by students, offically it was Book Week.

A foot of snow had fallen the night before I arrived on the Greyhound and it covered the fields and building roofs. A south wind blew all night and the snow turned to slush.

I got up early and trudged in my old Wellingtons to Uncle Lou's place. Jiggs met me and after growling jumped up on me demanding a noogie. He ran ahead, plowing slush with his nose.

Aunt Ella had anticipated my arrival, meeting me at the door. She had my breakfast on the table.

'Trey, you look wonderful.'

'Aunt Ella, I missed you.' I put the firewood I'd taken from the stack by the door into the wood box. Then I gave her a big hug and she hung on for a good half minute.

'Are you home to stay?'

'No, just for a week. I needed a little break, but I still have a lot of reading to do this week. Where's Uncle Lou?'

'He slept in the barn. He thought Jeanette might have a hard calving.'

'I'll take him breakfast.'

'Eat yours here, Trey. You're home so seldom now.' She massaged my shoulders.

'Summer's coming, Aunt Ella.'

THE STORY OF MADDY

Uncle Lou was snoring lightly on a bed of straw near Jennette and her new calf.

'Must be getting old. You snuck right up on me, Trey.'

'Nice calf.'

'I over-reacted. Jennette was fine. Is that for me?'

I handed over the breakfast plate of sausage, home fries, fried eggs, and toast and a thermos of sweet, milky coffee.

'Jenny was presenting funny. She needed some massaging.'

'Effleurage.'

'Yeah, I figgered the French would have a word for it.'

'So it worked fine?'

'Oh she opened up like the Lincoln Tunnel and out pops Gwen.'

'Another heifer.'

Uncle Lou nodded and chewed. 'Ella's bread is world class.'

'Yeah, nothing like it in London. Not even Nana bakes bread like Aunt Ella.'

'How's the doctoring?'

'Hard work. Everyone is class is a genius, like Wren.'

'It's character more than brains that pulls a man through, Trey.' Uncle Lou looked at the new calf. 'Pretty thing.'

'Cali home?'

'She hasn't been back. Still got the voodoo on ya, uh?'

I shrugged. 'Just asking.'

'I remember the first time I saw Maddy. I was right here. Right here, milking. I hear Dell laughing and shouting for me and I turn and was about to lay down nine kinds of law about keeping quiet in here and I see Maddy. I was blinded and yet I saw her perfectly.'

'What did you say to her?' I was hoping for a tip to use on Cali when, if, I saw her again.

'I don't remember. I just remember that she looked exactly how a woman should look.'

'Aunt Ella is beautiful.'

'And more than skin deep. But Maddy matched my idea of beauty like a set of piston rings.'

I smiled at Uncle Lou's metaphor. Nothing about Mom was like a piston ring. She was fragile and cool as hoar frost.

'Yep, I turned and there was she was. A dream come true. The worse day of my life.' My Uncle Lou sighed. 'There's pickerel in East Bay. Want to try our luck?'

A crow cawed down along Yella Crick. Another answered. Winter was running off in rills of crystal water. A red-wing perched on a rush in a drainage ditch let loose a metallic skree. I loved that sound of spring but now it ignited a hopelessness which I could feel consuming me. I heard his skree all day.

'Yeah, we can troll just off Schell's place.'

I'd be lying if I told you I remembered much about the day except it was cold on the lake and we boated about 10 pickerel, walleye, the Americans call them. But I remember the fish fry we had that night.

I filleted our catch while Uncle Lou fired up a big pot of oil and mixed up his special batter mix. Uncle Lou and I always fried up the fish.

'You men remember to clean up my kitchen.'

'Yes, Ella.'

Mom and the girls came across the field in heavy rubber boots, pulling a toboggan loaded with salad and jello. Pippin wore a huge Cossack hat of white rabbit fur. Mom was wrapped in a coyote fur boa. Wren was wearing my old hunting toque. Jiggs ran to meet Pippin and walked with her right to the back door.

'Maddy, what have you brought?'

'Nine kinds of jello, Ella.'

Mom was always happy to do simple things. Most likely Pippin and Wren had made the jello, though Mom had probably plugged in the kettle. If Mom had not been a beauty, she would have been almost totally useless to man or beast.

Years later, Wren explained it to me.

'Trey, if Mom was not pretty, she would have learned things. She's as smart as I am, she just had no motivation.'

Of course this all changed but that was later.

'Maybe, but Pippin is as beautiful and smart.'

'I made sure she learned everything Nana taught me. I didn't want her to be a bimbo, too.'

That word;m too carried a lot of implications. 'You know, if you took some care with your appearance, you'd turn a lot of heads.'

'I don't want to salivated over by sexed up males.'

'Me neither!'

The bowl of nine kinds of jello was placed in the fridge with great ceremony and much rearranging of containers already on the shelves.

We joined hands at the table and Uncle Lou said grace.

'I have news.' Pippin paused while every one looked to her. 'Ford Agency sent me an option.'

'Ford? We've always been a Chevy family.'

'Except for the Desoto, Uncle Lou.'

Mom blushed.

'Ford Modelling Agency, Lou. We sent Pippin's portfolio in.'

'We? She couldn't mail pictures in by herself?'

'It is an investment, Lou. Pippin needed most of the clothes, too. Maddy are you surprised?'

'Breathless, Ella.'

'Investment?' Uncle Lou thought that a purchase of tools or raw metal stock or lumber was an investment. Photographs and new clothes were an expense.

'Pippin needed professional photographs.'

Uncle Lou smiled knowingly. He knew when to back off. 'From Detroit?'

'Can't fool you at all, my dear Lou.'

'Let's hear the news. What does a contract with the Ford Agency mean?'

'That I will be working in Toronto...'

'Toronto? I thought you would be working in Detroit and coming home every night.'

'Auntie, I'll be home when I'm not on a shoot.'

'Congrats, Pippin.'

'Thanks, Brother.'

'Aunt Ella, Pippin won't be leaving home for a few years. She's only thirteen.'

'Time goes so fast, Trey.'

'Mom?' She had that far off look. 'Mom?'

'Maddy!' Uncle Lou sounded urgent.

'What? What is it Lou?'

'Are you feeling well, Maddy?'

'No, Ella. I feel faint. Could I lie down?'

'Mom, first congratulate me, then you can lie down.'

'Pippin!'

'Aunt Ella, Mom looks fine. One word of congratulations won't kill her.'

'Congratulations, Pippin. Now, may I lay down?'

'Yes, Mom, you may.'

Aunt Ella lead Mom away from the table. Uncle Lou shook his head sadly. He knew he'd have two upset women to deal with later.

'Pippy, why did you do that?'

'Come on, Wren. Every time the light shines anywhere but on her, she feels faint.'

'Pippin, don't talk about your mother that way.'

'Uncle Lou, tell me what I said is not true.'

'It is true, Pippin. That's why you shouldn't say it.'

'The pickerel is good.'

'Brother, you're just as bad. Changing subjects as soon as things get confrontational. I love Mom but sometimes... arghhh!'

'Nothing comes of confrontation except heartbreak.'

'Heart ache, heartbreak. At least it's out in the open.' Pippin eats a forkful of fillet. 'Brother, this is good.'

'Thanks.' I toyed with my dinner, having suddenly lost my appetite.

'I'll apologize after the nine kinds of jello. Okay, Brother?'

'Is it really nine kinds?' Uncle Lou gave me a scowl. 'I'll go see Mom now.'

'No, Maddy can wait for Pippin.'

'I'll go with you, Pippin.'

'Mom's not angry with you, Wren.'

'I just don't want to feel left out.' Wren jumped up from the table and took the huge bowl of jello from the fridge. 'Let's all go!'

And we did. Pippin grabbed a stack of bowls and I scooped up a handful of spoons. Uncle Lou protested and somehow Jiggs snuck in the house and came with us up the stairs into Mom's guest boudoir.

'What's going on, Lou? Maddy needs a rest.'

'I'm just an innocent bystander.'

'Who let Jiggs in here? Jiggs scoot.'

'Mom, we brought you a party!'

'A party? To celebrate your modelling option?'

'No, a party for you.'

'Because...?'

'Because you are our Mom!'

Pippin and Wren hopped on the bed and sandwiched Mom. Uncle Lou and Aunt Ella sat at the foot of the bed. Jiggs sat in the doorway and I leaned against a small dresser.

Wren ladled out bowls of jello, including one for Jiggs. I remember Mom smiling her Queen on the Throne smile with all of us gathered round her. Aunt Ella was crying into her bowl of jello.

'I didn't think Pippy would leave for Toronto, Lou.'

'Ella, the kids got to leave home some time. But it's years off.'

Interesting slip of the tongue.

Jiggs lapped up his own bowl and then licked clean everyone else's. Then he got sick on the stair landing. All in all a pretty ordinary family get together.

Next morning after chores Uncle Lou made me promise we'd have our next fish fry on shore.

'Swear?'

'Yeah, I love campfire meals.'

'Good and no women.'

Since I didn't have a woman, I agreed. 'No women.'

Uncle Lou's looked dimmed somewhat. 'That means no nine kinds of jello, though.'

'It's only three kinds and nine layers. And I counted only seven last night.'

'We'll get by without it.'

'Trading it off for some simplification.' Uncle Lou grinned. 'I didn't think Pippin would turn into a woman so quickly.'

'She's looked grown up for a year.'

'I meant that little struggle for power last night. She's got spunk.'

'I spoke with Pippin last night. She's sorry she upset Mom.'

'Maddy enjoys the comforting.'

I had an idea of what Uncle Lou was talking about. 'Let's go fishing now. Weather's better than yesterday.'

'Help me finish a brake job and we'll go then.'

The snow was nearly gone and today the red-wing had rivals skree-ing from their perches along the drainage ditches. Spring was coming on fast.

fixing the motorcycle

We finished the brake job on Jim Robinson's Studebaker pick up. Uncle Lou had been servicing the 1956 Transtar since it was new. Uncle Lou traded some servicing for a motorcycle Jim had at his Bike shop on Highway 3. Perhaps motorcycle is not quite the correct word, boxes of motorcycle parts would be more truthful.

As we were cleaning up, Uncle Lou led me to the rear of the shop. There sat a wheeless, engineless, motorcycle frame with a gas tank balanced on the triple clamp. It was surrounded by boxes of parts.

'You can ride it to work in the summer.'

I looked in the many boxes and felt doubtful. 'What is it?'

'Jim says it's a 500 BSA. It's pretty exotic. It has clip on bars and two beautiful carbs.'

'I'll be home in five weeks.'

'I'll be done by then. Easy.'

Honestly, I wasn't sure even Uncle Lou could get it ready then or ever. There was lots of work that needed to be done everyday, and this project was going to relegated to part-time status by the reality of bills, taxes, and livestock.

'Can we work on it now? No women will bother us here.'

'Yeah. I had a hankering for a fish fry.'

'There's a few fillets left. We can fry them up on the forge.'

'All right.' Uncle Lou picked a wheel from the parts. 'True that. There's a spoke wrench in the box marked tools. Don't lose it. It's Jim's.'

Now truing a spoked wheel is done by balancing the tension on all the spokes. It takes time and attention and correct attitude.

Uncle Lou was big on attitude.

'Even having the right tool is no good if you got a lousy attitude.'

I took the front wheel and axle and brake which was nearly as light as a bicycle assembly and placed it across two pieces of angle iron which I had notched with a file. I spun the wheel, finding it nearly true. I plinked the spokes looking for the dull sounding ones which I tightened until they emitted the same note as the rest.

The rear wheel was a much different proposition. It had a big wobble and the spoke ends were corroded into place.

'We need a new wheel, Uncle Lou.'

'Giving up, Trey?'

'No, but every thing is seized.'

'What have you done?'

'Done? I've found the problem.'

'Now do something about the problem.'

'What?'

'Ask me.'

'What should I do?'

'Brake fluid will loosen most seized up metals. And the lesson is?'

'Ask an expert.'

'Don't give up.'

'When I get into a medical problem, I will ask you. Deal?'

'Okay.'

We worked all day and then all week. The bike was coming together. All the chassis parts and electricals were plumbed and ready to be installed and all that was left was the engine and tranny unit. And Uncle Lou had a month to do that.

'Why did I see a motorcycle in those boxes and not just a pile of parts?'

'Attitude?'

'That and knowledge and tools.' Uncle Lou laughed. 'Attitude allows you to use knowledge and skill.'

Kidnapping Pippin

I felt guilty about spending so much of the week building the motorcycle with Uncle Lou so I went looking for Mom. She was gussied up and sitting in her favourite chair watching TV.

'Have you finished your project, Trey?'

'It's up to Uncle Lou now.'

'I haven't seen much of either of you this week. Did he say he was coming over, today?'

'I'm sure he will.' It was a sedative lie.

I don't recall how I found the photo album. But I was thumbing through it while Mom watched Coronation Street. I think it made her life feel upper-class to enjoy a show the Queen of England watches.

A photo drew my attention. All of us, minus Dad, at Seacliff Beach. We all have ice cream cones from the Burgess Ice Cream store. It looks like a happy normal family, except the man has two wives.

'Mom, can you tell me about this picture?'

'Hush, Trey, can't it wait a few minutes?'

Nothing interrupted the show. Shows. Mom watched TV more or less constantly from the time of Kennedy's assassination.

Wren came from her room, nose in a book. As usual. 'My long lost brother, Trey. Where have you been hiding?'

I motioned for her knock it off because Mom was upset with me. She snorted and smirked her so-things-are-normal smile.

'Where's Pip?'

'Went to see Aunt Ella and to look for you.'

'Do you remember this photo?'

Wren squinted through her reading glasses. 'We look happy.'

'Yeah.' We did look happy.

'So I expect something is ready to go wrong. I'm going into town. Turn on the oven at three-thirty.'

Wren left, probably for the library. Coronation Street was over and so I asked Mom again about the photo.

'I don't remember.'

'Nothing?'

'I told you, I don't remember, Trey. Put the kettle on and make some tea.'

'Ok. How can you remember nothing?'

'I don't want to remember and so I don't. Make up your own story. We went to the beach and ate ice-cream.'

Pip was smiling right into the camera. Even at two, she was photogenic.

'Who took the picture?'

'Dell.'

'Dad?'

'What damn bit of difference does it make?'

'No difference. I'll bring you tea and biscuits.'

'Call Lou. He can come to tea. That would be nice.'

'He's fixing...'

'That damned motorcycle!'

'...Archie's tractor.'

'He could still come for tea.'

'He's at Archie's, Mom.'

'So I'm in third place now, am I?'

'Mom, we have to make hay while the sun shines.'

'Just bring me tea. Please.'

I found the fancy Silver Birch china tea set that Nana had bought at Kingsmill's in London and opened a package of shortbreads. I presented the tea very formally to Mom. High tea with the Queen. She was amused. She tittered on about small things. Wren's regimen of porridge for breakfast. Nana's taste for trashy romance novels. Pippin's plans to be a runway model. I listened to the drivel, nodding when appropriate as I chowed down on the shortbreads, which I thought were not as good as Nana's. I was getting spoiled.

Half-way through her second cup Mom suddenly went quiet.

'Mom?'

'He took Pippin.'

'Who?' I knew it was Dad, of course.

'Dell! Just after he took that picture. He walked off with her.'

'Walked off? How?'

'Dell said he was taking her to the change house to get cleaned up after the ice cream. He took her to his car and drove off.'

'Off to where?'

'The fair. It was fair weekend. Off to the fair. It was hours before we thought about it. And hours more before we found them.'

'Everything was fine though?'

'Oh, yes. Just fine.' Mom mimicked Dad's swagger and bluster. 'Just taking my little girl to the fair. Is that a federal crime, now?' She took a sip of tea. 'Dell made us feel like idiots. And Pippin didn't want to leave her Dad and screamed all the way home. I stayed in bed with a headache for three days after.'

Later, I had a hazy memory about our day at the fair. I had remembered seeing Cali but not much else. Before leaving for school the next day, I asked Uncle Lou about it.

'Yeah, Dell took Pip to the fair, but it wasn't a kidnapping. And you know that's true.'

'How do I know that?'

'Because Ella didn't kill him!'

'So Mom is delusional?'

'Dell showed up flush with cash and bought ice cream for everyone. Then he says he'll take everyone to the fair. Well, he had an MG-A at the time. He wanted Maddy to go with him and she did, taking Pip with her.'

'And the rest of us followed?'

'Not right away, I stopped for gas, and got behind some tomato wagons. You know how it is around Heinz in summer. We were about an hour behind but Dell left tickets at the gate and a message to meet him at the midway.'

'And then?'

'They weren't there. Pip wanted to see horses, so they went to the barns and to the track to see the races. Ella spotted them and we all watched the races then toured the fair. It was a nice day. Then...'

'Then?'

'...next day Dell takes Maddy out for a spin and they don't come back until next afternoon. Dell drops her off and scoots. Typical.'

'Nana calls to say Maddy is hurt, so I go to see her and she's crying uncontrollably. I had to call Doc.'

'What happened?'

'She never said, but she scraped all her knuckles and all up and down her arms and shins were bruises. She had a broken toe, too. She told Doc they had a car accident.'

'Dad beat Mom?'

'Doc thinks she did the beating. Offensive wounds, he told Ella.'

'Mom beat Dad?'

'That's what Doc thinks.'

'Yeah, that would explain the pattern of injury. Women attack by pounding with their fists and kicking.'

'Doc thinks she scraped her knuckles against something Dell was hiding under. Her toe kicked something soft, broken with no bruising.'

'Jesus. Who knows this?'

'Ella. And Nana.'

'Did we stay with you and Aunt Ella?'

'Nope. Maddy came to stay with Ella and me. And she stayed until Labour Day.'

'Labour Day? I don't remember that.'

'I would bring Maddy over after chores. It was an arrangement. And she came back at night.'

The arrangement included a tryst, I was sure. 'Aunt Ella didn't mind this?' I think I kept most of my disgust out of my voice.

'She stayed with you kids.'

I went silent. Some memory of Aunt Ella tucking me into my bed came back to me. 'Aunt Ella said she loved us more than anything.'

'She loves you kids more than pride.' Uncle Lou grew misty. 'She's had such burdens in her life.'

Orderly

An orderlie is a janitor and general dirty job dogsbody. I'd done more doctoring in Archie's calving barn. Being low man on the totem pole meant that I was ordered to clean up the most disgusting messes of projectile vomiting, diarrhoea, blood, hospital macaroni dinners, and mud. Gone were the days in the cow barn, monitoring fetal heartbeats.

It was a horrible job but I assumed a right attitude and did my best. One day, as I was returning my mop and pail to its assigned area, I was ordered to help move a large patient onto a gurney. I took the large woman under the knees and around her back and lifted her, not easily, but smoothly into the gurney. The doctor, the new head of surgery, was amazed.

'I heard you played football. Now I understand why.'

'Glad to help, doctor.'

'I'm taking you off clean up. I want you in ER.'

Any Emergency Room is the three-ring circus of medicine. Everything from ingrown toenails to heart attacks. And violent people, drunk, or on drugs, desperate and hopeless, or just plain crazy. I became a glorified bouncer or something close.

Doctor Cotrelle checked on me regularly. 'We're having a get together on Saturday. We would like you to come, Trey.'

'Thank you, Doctor. What time?'

'About three. We having a barbecue.' He reached into his pocket and handed me twenty dollars. 'Calista loves gladioli.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Let her think it was your idea.'

The intercom called him away on an emergency. I didn't get a chance to ask if Cali knew I'd be coming. I'd have to ask Uncle Lou if I could borrow the Suburban since the bike wouldn't be suitable for transporting a cargo of glads.

The trip home that afternoon was quick. The bike which Uncle Lou and I assembled was a DBD34 BSA 500 cc racing bike, ergo the clip on handle bars, exotic aluminium wheels and the lovely Amal carbs with bell-mouthed velocity stacks. It was a bit high-strung but, although it was a 1956 model, it was just about the quickest thing in the county. A county mercifully short on police patrols.

It was responsible for weekly dates with candy-stripers and student nurses. It was a good summer.

Now Cali was back from Europe, hopefully minus the friends.

The Cotrelle's home is the old Coatsworth homestead house. Tecumseh and his warriors no doubt passed over the Coatsworth land and local legend says the great chief fought American forces along the old oak fence rows. Arrowheads can still be found if the searcher is reasonably diligent. Archie's sons farm the land and cut the woodlot for timber now and store hay and straw in the barn which Doc refurbished in the 1960's.

The house has been added-on several times and it changed style, materials and direction as it rambled across a rise about three hundred yards from the waters of Lake Erie. Part of the original chinked log house of 1811 was now a rear entrance leading to the field stone addition of the 1820's, which was linked and partially surrounded by 1890's brick two-story with servants quarters and a parlour and six bedrooms, a 1920's porch with doors to the parlour. Doc Cotrelle added an office of white shiplap boards in the late 1950's.

There I was at the oak front door, a door built by Uncle Lou, standing behind a wall of a rainbow of glads, full of confidence, and doubts.

The door opened. 'Oh, bring them in, put them on the table, please.' I should have spoken up right away but I thought I would treat Cali to a little surprise. So I said nothing. I put the glads on the table and turned around.

'Trey!?'

'Hi, Cali. Nice to have you back.'

'You didn't quit med school! No, of course not.'

Nice to see the moment of concern on her face. No, I hadn't gone to pieces just because she left for Europe, with friends.

'I bought the flowers for you.' Cali seemed jangled.

We sat down in the front room and talked around things.

'How was Europe?'

'Very continental.'

'Witty.'

'How's the job?'

'Disorderly.'

'Why didn't you come with me?'

My mind shouted:I REGRETTED IT AS SOON AS YOU DROVE OFF. 'Cali...' I shrugged.

'The flowers are beautiful. Was it a lucky guess that I love glads?'

'I remembered you brought them to show and tell in grade three.'

'Really?'

'You showed the class a ruffled blossom glad. And a pink-orange one which was your favourite.'

'Oh.'

I had impressed Cali. 'Did I recall the details well?'

'Perfectly.' Cali clasped her hands. 'Daddy told me he was inviting you.'

'Is this a welcome home party?'

'Mother likes to host events.'

Just then, Mrs Cotrelle breezed in. 'Hello, Trey. Nice to see you again.'

I stood to receive her two cheek kiss, very European. 'Thanks for inviting me Mrs Cotrelle.' She was six feet tall, boyish in build, with short, thick brunette hair, and an angular face full of freckles. Cali had inherited her large smiling mouth. She had a strong tennis player's grip and almost a mannish way of walking.

'Call me Peggy, Trey, now that you're grown up.'

'Yes, Peggy.'

'Well, I'll let you two catch up. Where's Lavinia?'

'Finishing the garnishing, Mother.'

The Cotrelle's were the only people I had ever known to have a full-time cook and cleaner. Lavinia lived above the doctor's office. She was large humourless woman with a German accent, about 40 to 45. She almost never left the property, even on her days off. I never saw her wear anything but her serving clothes and a large apron.

'I suppose you have stories about your adventure.'

'Daddy tells me you've had a few adventures this summer.'

'Several wrestling matches with...'

'...nurses.'

'...drunks. I've gone on a few dates with nurses. They wanted a ride on my motorcycle.'

'Why didn't you want to come to Europe?'

I was going to have to answer, I guess. 'I had responsibilities.'

'I was surprised you resisted me, Trey.'

'I was surprised myself.'

'Why?'

'Why did you want me to go with you? You never gave me any reason to think you even knew who I was.'

'Trey, we've known each other for 15 years.'

'We hardly spoke at school.'

'You should have come with me, Trey.'

Just then Doc Cotrelle strode into the room.

'Trey, thank you for coming and please forgive me. I had a possible nicked bowel from an earlier surgery. Turned out to be nothing, but you can't fool around with that possibility.'

'No, sir. Thank you for inviting me.'

'Have you tried the punch yet?'

'Not yet.'

'Calista, bring our guest a drink.'

Cali left without a word.

'She's been moody since getting back. Her marks slipped last term, too.'

'Perhaps Cali needed a break.'

'Perhaps. I hope you like Porterhouse.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Come help me grill them. Calista, bring drinks out to the grill, please.'

'Yes, Daddy.'

Doc Cotrelle's grill was a stone structure large enough to house a family of midgets. I stacked quartered 8 inch hard maple in the fire pit and Doc added kindling and a match.

'Nothing like real hardwood.'

'Is this a family thing, Doctor?'

'Just the four of us. Bill wasn't able to get back. He was just made head of orthopedics in Rochester.'

'Please extend my congratulations.'

'We don't see him much. Every body races away. I'd like Calista to stay here but...'

'Not much call for corporate law in Renwick.'

'But we'll need a doctor soon, Trey. If you are interested.'

'Very interested.' I was a little light-headed actually.

'Don't say anything. By the time you're ready, I'll be ready.'

Cali arrived with our drinks. 'Are you well, Trey?'

'Yes, just a little grilling talk.'

'Can a female join the grillers union?'

'As long as you don't tamper, Calista.'

'Thanks, Daddy. What were you two colluding on?'

'Man talk, Calista. A few stories. What did my money buy for you in Europe? You haven't said much.'

'Museums, cathedrals. The usual post card stuff, Daddy.'

'Didn't impress you much, Calista, by the sounds of things. Did you meet anyone?'

'Oh, dozens of people. Hotel bell hops with their hands out, mostly. Italian police who pull you over to chat for an hour.'

We ate dinner on the deck in the shade of an elm which had miraculously survived the plague of Dutch elm disease in the 1950s. We chatted about our families and our futures. I couldn't be very specific beyond that I was going to be a physician. Cali backed off her goal of a corporate law practice.

'Why have you changed your mind, Calista?'

'I'm open to other possibilities.'

'Well, possibilities are fine, as long as they don't get in your way, darling.'

'Mother, nothing much gets in my way.' Cali smiled at me across the table. 'This steak is delicious but too big for me. Trey would you like some of it?'

'Please.'

'I enjoy seeing a man with a robust appetite. Stick to red meat, Trey, that way you won't develop a paunch.'

'I'll remember that, Peggy.'

'Peg, you shouldn't be dispensing medical advice.'

'It was marital advice, darling.'

After dinner, Doctor Cotrelle offered use of his car, suggesting Cali and I go for a drive. Doc Cotrelle's car was a new Jeep CJ-5, stripped of its top and doors for summer. He still made house calls and in winter it was the only vehicle which could get down unplowed back roads.

I took Cali down a ravine and onto a beach below the Detroit Policemen's Party House. It was infamous from 1925 until the 1950s as a place of good booze, bad women, and high-stakes poker. No one knows why the Detroit cops stopped coming to the place.

Uncle Lou maintained the place during the winter months and arranged for Archie's four wheel drive Allis-Chalmers tractor to level the private entry road for the annual Memorial day opening.

Local legend has it that Marion Davies entertained there in 1939 just before the war. Uncle Lou said that year a lovely woman with short curly hair in a chauffeured car asked him for directions to the place, but he dismissed the rumours.

'She looked like Marion Davies but she stuttered. Especially after I smiled at her. Miss Davies never stuttered in Ever Since Eve. But she looked like her, for sure.'

We drove on the sand about a quarter mile and watched waves and the gulls swooping down on a school of small shad about a hundred yards from shore.

A CJ is not an ideal vehicle for lovers. The tranny hump keeps people separated or contorted. I wondered if this was the reason Doc handed me the Jeep keys and not those to the family Buick, or Cali's Mercedes.

Cali had squealed as we descended the forty feet down the ravine and then along the drainage creek to the lake shore but for the rest of the drive she was quiet. After twenty minutes on the beach, she placed her hand on mine which was resting on the shift lever.

'I met someone in Europe.'

'Yeah, bell hops.'

'England really.'

'It's all Europe.'

'Yes. I met someone.'

'What do you mean met someone?'

'Patrice. He's French.'

'Very continental.'

'We're engaged.'

'You and...?'

'I haven't told my folks yet.'

'Why not?'

'I hid the ring.'

'Why haven't you told your folks?'

'I think I've made a mistake.'

'He's the one you should be telling.'

'He reminded me of you.'

'Who?'

'Patrice.'

'Your fiance.'

'Smart, strong, shy, and always kind.'

'Uh...'

'And tongue-tied. I got carried away.'

Apparently, I was not tongue-tied enough. 'Cali, this isn't my business.'

'It is, Trey.'

'You want me to call this Patrice and tell him to get lost?'

'No. I can do that.'

'Why are you telling me this?'

'I know now I want to marry you, Trey.'

There was a disconnect between my gut and my mind which kept thinking and talking. 'We don't know each other, Cali.'

'We've known each other since first grade.'

'Sitting in the same room being ignored by you, doesn't really count.'

Cali sighed and looked out over the lake.

'What about Patrice? You promised him.'

'I watched you at school.'

'Why?'

'Because you were different than all other boys at school. And you have always had a crush on me. Right?'

'Me and everyone else. How was I different?'

'You walked home with your sisters, and protected them. You never teased anyone, not even Bobbie-Girl McKay.'

'He wasn't so bad. He's a plumber now.'

'See? Even now, you stick up for him. And you always nice to me even though I was... provocative.'

'Let's get back to you are engaged.'

'I'll tell him I changed my mind.'

'And then one day, you call me with the same message.'

'No, I promise, Trey.'

'None of my stellar qualities seemed to impress you, at the time.'

'Guilty as charged.'

'Are you in trouble?'

'No. NO! Trey.'

'Twenty years of neglect then a marriage proposal. I'm a little confused.'

'Do you know what changed me?'

'I'm a lousy guesser.'

'The valedictorian speech. Actually, what my Daddy said about you after hearing it.'

'And he said...'

'Trey's a fine young man, Calista.'

'Did you ever encourage me?'

'I wanted you to show some interest.'

Catch 22.

'Did your dad want me to go to Europe with you?'

'Daddy didn't even want his little girl to go. I'm 20! I worked on him for weeks. When I told him you didn't accept my invitation, he just smiled. He thinks the world of you and your Uncle Lou.'

'You stayed away for more than two years.'

'Well, you didn't call either, Trey.'

'I've been busy with study. I have to work at it.'

'What does that mean?'

'I'm not a natural like you and Wren.'

Cali turned away. 'Did I leave it too late?'

'Leave what?'

'To get back to you. Is there someone else? Daddy said you were very popular with the nurses.'

'Only when they have heavy lifting to do.'

Cali turned back to me. 'Not only then, Daddy tells me.'

'The motorcycle impresses them, that's all. There is no one else, Cali. No one.'

Cali leaned across the tranny divide and kissed me. 'Good.'

back home after the bbq

I returned the Suburban to Uncle Lou's lane way and ducked in to say thanks to Aunt Ella who waved to me from the back door.

'How was the party, Trey?'

'Cali is home.'

'How did she look?'

'Engaging.'

'She's a beautiful girl.'

The shop lights were on and I could hear Uncle Lou tinkering. He was working on my motorcycle.

'What's wrong?'

'Nothing, just synching the carbs. She was running a little rich on the left. Tell me about the Cotrelle clambake.'

'Cali's back.'

'Yeah, Doc told me. He also said you were doing a first rate job. How is Miss Jangles?'

'She wants to get married.'

'To?'

'Someone she met in Europe.'

'What do her folks think about that?'

'She hasn't told them.'

'You want to talk about it?'

I nodded. Uncle Lou jerked his head toward straw bale bed he slept on during calving time. I re-told the story up the point where Cali proposed to me. Well, what else would you call it?

'That's the story, Uncle Lou.'

Uncle Lou gave me his don't josh me expression. 'What else?'

'Cali asked me to marry her.'

'She asked! No prompting?'

'None.'

Uncle Lou let out a soft whistle and sat quietly for a few moments. 'What did you say?'

'I told her, I was studying to be a doctor.'

'What did you tell her about marriage?' He seemed impatient.

'I didn't give Cali an answer.'

'She'll want an answer, soon, Trey.'

Answering Proposal

Next morning, Uncle Lou's words, and Cali's, sank in. Of course, there were chores, so I went over to Uncle Lou's. Aunt Ella had breakfast ready.

'Tell me about the party, Trey.'

'It was just a barbeque dinner with Doc and Peggy.'

'And Cali.'

'Yes, and Cali.'

'Well, are you going to see her again?'

'I suppose so.'

'You didn't make a date to see her again?'

'Aunt Ella, I'm pretty busy. I still study a couple of hours a day after work and chores here.'

'A young man finds time to spend with a pretty girl. Besides you weren't too busy for those nurses. You didn't fall out with Cali, did you?'

'No, Aunt Ella. No.'

'You've mooned for her since leaving for university.'

'I'll call her and ask her out Friday. Okay?'

'Where are you going to take her?'

'I don't know, Aunt Ella. A movie.'

'No, you can't talk about things at a movie.'

'You pick, then. I've got to chow down here and get out for chores.'

'Trey, you've been dancing with deception about this.'

'Cali asked me to marry her.'

Aunt Ella anchored a hand on the counter top. 'Oh, my. It's Maddy and Dell, all over again.'

Maddy and Dell? All over again? 'What!?'

I helped Aunt Ella into a chair. 'I didn't mean to say that out loud.'

'I didn't mean to hear it.'

'Dell used to boast about it. Your mom always blushed.'

'Mom proposed to Dad?'

'Sometimes men need a little push.'

'Uncle Lou, too?'

'Lou needed a few hints.'

'But you didn't propose to Uncle Lou.'

'No.'

'But Mom did propose to Dad.'

'So both of them said.'

'I never heard anything about it.'

'Dell stopped saying it after you came along.'

I had only gone to a barbecue to be with a woman I had lusted for --let's be honest, young men lust and then learn to love-- since testosterone had pulsed through me. Now, I felt like a player on a cosmic stage. Perhaps a comic one, too.

'What do I do?'

'Does Lou know?'

'We spoke last night. I guess he didn't tell you.'

'I was sleeping when Lou came in and he got up very early this morning. Bless him, he worries about you kids.'

'What's the big deal?' My parents had a disastrous marriage but not because she proposed. Mom is a taker and Dad is a dreamer hoping to find cash falling out of the sky. And both are dizzy romantics who believe the world might revolve around them. If only things were different. If only the moon were made of green cheese. If only.

'Trey, I'm sorry I said anything. I must be getting feeble minded.'

'You are not feeble minded, Aunt Ella, but you do worry too much.'

'Trey, you don't get many chances to make things right. Remember the song I'd sing to you?'

'Song?'

'Turn around and you're tiny...' Aunt Ella sang very softly. 'Tempus fugit.'

'Lo, the bird is on the wing.'

Aunt Ella looked startled as if she'd glimpsed her own mortality. Perhaps the bird of time had stirred within her.

Cali went a courtin'

Our courting, as Uncle Lou called it, was not exotic. That surprises even me because Cali always seems exotic to me. Even now on her 50th birthday.

We dated mostly in Toronto but pretty much avoided the clubs, opting for small out of the way places, mostly for coffee after a movie at an international film cinema. We explored the trails and footpaths which in the 1970s were in disrepair and waiting to be rediscovered.

We wandered through the ROM and the AGO and many smaller galleries and basement clubs where the music was jazz or folk or something yet without a label but always local and real and earthy as musicians are when they play for their suppers and not for penthouses and Roller limos.

We also enjoyed amateur theatre and sought out the church basement or warehouse loft theatre companies. We'd debate the meaning of the plays over coffee.

'Very creative. I didn't think it was possible to string two dozen curse words together without repetition.'

I'm not sure who said that. Cali perhaps or me. We'd finish each other sentences or an idea would pop into both our heads at the very same instant.

'Let's order meatball sandwiches'

'I want to visit Tuscany.'

'Do you like cinnamon crab apples?'

We watched A Wonderful Life at Christmas with Mom and Uncle Lou, Wren and Pippin. Ate buttered popcorn and sang carols.

Peggy gave us a subscription for a series of concerts at Massey Hall. We ran up to Mosport to watch sports car races. But the truth was nothing was as interesting as watching Cali and kissing her and holding her.

I never got onto the lovemaking thing with her really. She jangled me and she seemed to be happy I had no staying power.

'What kind of goddess can be resisted even for an instant?' She'd smile and hold me. The warmth I felt was a knife of failure.

Cali didn't care for the motorcycles I owned, ever. She enjoyed driving and was skillful but she didn't give bikes a real try. She was too timid and tentative. Cornering on a motorcycle involves banking the bike with counter steer and powering around the bend. It takes a studied aggression.

'I'll stick with cars.'

We skated a New Toronto City Hall. And Yella Crick. Cali tolerated fishing and I tolerated flower arranging. She loved shooting when we were dating. Uncle Lou had a clay pigeon launcher and he'd throw clays for us. Cali's dad bought her a Citori 20 gauge with screw-in chokes and she became a fine shot.

'Trey, this is some girl you got here.'

After getting beaten at clays, Uncle Lou clapped me on the back. 'She jangled you like a pro out there, Trey.'

'Haha.' I was a little burned from the loss.

'You should pray you never wake up, son.'

'I'd like to win at clays once in a while.'

'Listen to me, Trey. This head over heels stuff doesn't last long for most couples. Stay jangled as long as you can.'

'Like you, Uncle Lou?'

'Yeah. Like me.'

I did stay jangled for quite a while. But it still wasn't long enough.

cali Trey wedding june 1975

It was at our wedding that I noticed Aunt Ella didn't look well. The air in the church was thick as gauze. As I turned to watch Cali parade up the aisle, I saw that Aunt Ella was a little reeky on her feet. She was hanging on to Wren. But several other women were shaky with emotion so it raised no alarms.

Uncle Lou was my best man. 'Cali scrubs up real nice.'

Uncle Lou was right. Cali had an aura about her. I just remember her floating toward me.

The ceremony flashed by and then we were headed out for photographs. Pippin had brought a fashion photog who called himself Mister Lucy. He called every one dearie, had a three-day beard and metallic red hair. Janny called him a flamer but he was a marvellous photographer.

'Now dearie, please, move in. The muscular man with the... tie! Move in a teeny tiny bit. That's right, dearie.'

Uncle Lou leaned near my ear and hissed. 'That dearie stuff is trying my patience.'

'At least he called you muscular. Miss Lucy called me fifty's hair dearie.'

'That's Mister Lucy, Brother.'

As Mister Lucy photographed the ladies, I noticed, that Aunt Ella looked tired and flushed.

'Would you like some punch, Aunt Ella?'

'I have an upset stomach, Trey.'

I checked her temperature and heart rate. Both were elevated and she had slight jaundice around her eyes.

'Uncle Lou, has Aunt Ella been eating normally?'

'She lost some weight for this wedding. Why?'

'She should see Doc for a check up. Okay?'

'Is something wrong?'

'Just being careful, Uncle Lou.'

Later, I danced with Aunt Ella. She winced when I placed my hand over her kidneys.

After our honeymoon in Bermuda, I called Uncle Lou.

'Did Aunt Ella get a check up?'

'She's got woman cancer, Trey.'

Cali was on the extension and she burst into tears.

'Did Doc get tests back already?'

'He booked Ella for surgery as soon as he saw her. She didn't want to ruin your honeymoon by calling you.'

'How is she now?'

'Getting better. She'll be home in a few days.'

'How's Mom?'

'Worried.'

'Pippin and Wren?'

'We wanted all of you together. Can you make it home this weekend? Pippin is still in Toronto. Wren suspects something. She said she could come down.'

'We'll be there.'

It was no way to start a marriage. Cali called her dad. He was evasive and Cali took that to be bad news rather than patient-doctor ethics. Of course, it was bad news. Cali cried for hours each night.

We arrived at Mom's after Pippin and Wren. Uncle Lou was there and, frankly, they guessed Aunt Ella was seriously ill. She had not been released from hospital. Doc Cotrelle and Peggy had come over.

Cali ran to her dad and I could tell the news was very bad from the way her cradled her head. Even Peggy had red raw eyes.

Pippin and Wren hugged me. Pippin was blubbering. Wren had been crying but she was under control now as she comforted Pippin.

Mom was surprisingly calm. 'I'm so sorry, Trey.'

I spoke with Doc on the back stoop.

'Ella hasn't much time, Trey. She's in stage four of ovarian cancer. We can only offer palliative care. I'm sorry.'

'How long?'

'Six months would be a miracle. It could be next week.'

'Have you told Lou?'

'He's enough of a stock man to know it isn't good.'

Mom came to the back stoop. 'I have a light lunch for you.' She sounded so cool. Too cool. I felt a flush of anger.

'I'm not hungry. I'm going to the hospital to see Aunt Ella.'

'Trey, Aunt Ella needs her rest. We'll go in the morning.'

'Your mom's right, Trey.'

I was hungry. I ate with my arm around Cali. Pippin had gone to her room. Wren sat with Uncle Lou but they didn't talk much. Doc and Peggy kept Mom company. No one said much at all.

Bedtime

Soon after the lunch, Doc and Peggy left. Wren went to her bedroom and Cali and I went to my old bedroom. Uncle Lou sat up with Mom. We could hear them talking. Later, we heard crying but it wasn't Mom this time. Cali put her hands over my ears and rocked me to sleep.

Early next morning I went to see Aunt Ella, using my student doctor privileges to get in before normal visiting hours.

Aunt Ella had lost ten pounds in the ten days since the wedding. She actually looked younger. The jaundice was controlled, so her colour was good, though perhaps a shade too pale for her. Despite my knowledge that people, women in particular, only seem healthier from weight loss, I was buoyed by her appearance. But her hug was weak and she felt frail in my arms. Her voice was husky and laboured. She picked at her breakfast, eating only a half slice of dry toast and drinking only a few sips of tea.

'How's Lou? He couldn't stop weeping when he was here, Trey. Can you do something for him?'

'Aunt Ella, you must save your strength for yourself. We will get by.'

'I'm so sorry, Trey. They didn't spoil your honeymoon, did they? I told them not to call.'

'No, no one spoiled our honeymoon.'

'I'm so sorry. Do Pippin and Wren know?'

I nodded. 'Pippin will be all right. Wrennie is looking after her.'

'How's Cali? She's such a beautiful girl. Her father has been so nice, Trey.'

'Doc will see you get the very best, Aunt Ella.' I could see she was tiring and so I kissed her on the cheek and she quickly fell asleep. I skimmed through her records which only confirmed my father-in-law's opinion. I suppose I was hoping for some kind of miracle.

I had been away from my internship for nearly two weeks and I needed to get back. I spoke with Uncle Lou after evening chores.

'I'll check daily with Doc Cotrelle and I'll let you know how things are going.'

'No need, Trey. Doc can talk to me.' He turned away from me. 'I know Ella hasn't got a long time.'

'Is Mom a help?'

'Maddy... yeah.'

'Have you spoken with Archie about doing chores if the need arises?'

'Archie offered his help, already.'

'I wish we didn't have to leave.'

'Trey, you have a career to look after. And a new wife. You do that for me, okay?'

Uncle Lou stayed at his house that night. I returned to Mom's place and spoke with her alone in her bedroom.

'Mom, Uncle Lou is going to need your help.'

'I know that.' It was perfunctory and kurt.

'I mean he needs regular meals and no histrionics.'

'What do you mean by histrionics?'

'Don't expect to be the centre of attention when he going through this, okay?'

'Don't treat me like a spoiled child, Trey.'

'Sorry. I just mean that Uncle Lou is going to be distracted. It might seem that he is ignoring you.'

'I will manage.'

'What about asking Nana to come down?'

'Why?'

'Nana is practical help, Mom. It would leave you more energy to be an emotional help to Uncle Lou.'

'Okay. How sick is Ella?'

The question surprised me. Surely, Mom understood how serious things were. 'Aunt Ella has only a few months.'

'To live?'

'Yes. Mom, she has advanced ovarian cancer and possibly liver cancer.'

'Does Lou know?'

I nodded. 'He knows.'

'Why didn't he tell me?'

'He loves you, Mom. He didn't want to alarm you.'

Mom sat up in her chair, assuming her Queen on the Throne posture. 'Lou let me think Ella would be home soon.'

'She will Mom. They can't do anything for her in hospital. Mom, we heard Uncle Lou crying the other night. You must have guessed things were bad.'

'Lou wasn't crying because Ella was ill.'

I didn't want to delve into that. 'Pippin is taking this hard.'

'She'll be fine, Trey. She only looks delicate.'

calls from uncle lou

Uncle Lou and I spoke nearly every day. He didn't say much about how Aunt Ella looked or felt. He said he visited, had lunch with her, or walked in the garden. Uncle Lou never referred to the wheelchair Aunt Ella would have been sitting in.

Ella asked about you and Cali.

Typical. Pippin and Wren had the same call. Aunt Ella always asking about how they were and about what they were doing.

Doc Cotrelle called, too. I knew Aunt Ella was not going to last.

'I convinced Lou to move Ella to the palliative care house.'

'How long?'

'You know only God knows. But I think two weeks.'

Cali was listening in of course and she wept, and wept into the night.

Just how emotional Cali turned out to be surprised me. She could be so thorough and cold and efficient and tough that they called her Steel Butterfly at the courthouse. But she was devastated by the dying of a woman she was related to only by marriage and knew only briefly.

My frail-looking lotus blossom of a mother, who would take to her bed for a weekend if Uncle Lou didn't come to tea four days a week, was as unperturbed as iron rail in a breeze. Aunt Ella had been more than a friend. Much more as I was to learn. And Mom knew just how much more, even then as Aunt Ella lay dying, betrayed once again by her ovaries.

Aunt Ella dies 1976 Trey 27 robin 25 Pippin 17

Aunt Ella died on Pippin's 17th birthday, July 4th 1976. Aunt Ella was just 50 but had aged decades in the last few days of her life. We all gathered at Uncle Lou's farm house after the funeral and wake, even though Aunt Ella and Uncle Lou had lived in town at a hospice for the last couple of weeks and the house was locked up.

The farm was gone really. The was no stock. My Uncle Lou had sold everything to Archie. The house was stuffy and evidence of roof leaks was visible in the kitchen and entry. A working farm needs constant care.

While Mom, Nana, Wren and Pippin laid out some sandwiches and coffee from the church on the dining room table, Uncle Lou and I sat in the kitchen and talked.

'Where's the missus?'

'She drove the Reverend home. She'll be here soon. What are you going to now, Uncle Lou?'

'Move back here.'

'Really?' Stupid response. Where else would he go? Besides next door, of course.

'If Ella hadn't got sick, I never would have left.'

'What about livestock?'

'Archie will sell back my cattle. He said he'd just take care of them for me.'

'He knew you'd be back.'

'No where else to go. No where else I want to go.'

'Can you do this alone?' As soon as I said it, I raised my hands in an effort to wave it off.

Uncle Lou looked pained. 'You would accept Maddy and me, wouldn't you, Trey?'

I nodded. 'I'm not sure about Pippin. You know how she clings to her myth. Besides they're still married.'

'Two years. I can wait another two years.'

I started sorting through some old mail on the table. 'Did you attend to this recall notice?'

'No. What's it all about?'

I opened the letter and read. 'Says, your Sierra might slip out of park into reverse.'

'It's never been a problem.'

'Get it seen to, Uncle Lou. I'll take it in, if you want.'

'I'll get to it.'

Mom came in and went over to Uncle Lou and massaged his shoulders. 'How are you feeling, Lou?'

'I've had nearly a month to rehearse this day, Maddy.' My Uncle Lou sighed. 'I'm doing fine.' He reached up and put his large hard hand over my Mom's slender and elegant one. She nuzzled into his neck and kissed him a very tender and clearly sexual kiss. Too long to be just supportive. I felt embarrassed and looked away and coughed.

A car came down the lane way, too fast and it slammed to a four wheel skid in the farm yard. Mom raised her head and looked out the window. She whimpered and ran out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

My Uncle Lou opened the door. 'What are you doing here?'

'That's a hell of a greeting, brother. I'm here to express my condolences. Ella was my sister-in-law, after all.'

Nana, Wren and Pippin were in the kitchen now, curious. Pippin saw Dad and ran to him, squealing like a little girl.

Dad grabbed her and squeezed her, then held her at arm's length. 'God Almighty! Pippin, you are gorgeous!' He was drunk. Only God could have got him here safely.

Pippin was gorgeous. Tall and curvey with cover girl looks and smile. She had signed a big contract with the Ford agency and was off to London and Paris in the fall. She still smelled of flowers.

Wren and I wandered out. Dad was still hugging and kissing Pippin and gushing over her beauty. He saw us and stepped forward, looking us up and down.

'I hope you got some brains. You didn't get any looks.'

Wren choked back tears. 'I'm a full professor at Queens.'

'Well, lah de dah. And you?'

'I'm a resident intern.'

'I'm a resident, too. Of the world!'

'Dad, come in.' Pippin hadn't checked with Uncle Lou.

'You're not staying long, Dell.'

'I've come to pay my respects and to take my wife to my digs in Montreal. Like the car? I'm buying one for Maddy.'

'She's not going with you, Dell.'

'Of course she is. Pippin's coming, too. Right, gorgeous?'

'Dad, I've got a job modelling in Europe.'

'Dad has hit it big. No need for jobs.'

'Who'd you rob?'

'The lottery, Lou. The lottery!' My Dad spotted Nana still standing in the doorway. 'I thought you died.'

'Same here.'

Pippin worked out of Dad's embrace. 'Nana sent me to modelling school.'

'They can teach you to be gorgeous? Couldn't afford to send your sister, uh?'

Pippin backed away and then ran into the house.

'Get out of here, Dell.' Uncle Lou blocked Dad's advance to the house.

'Maddy's here, I know it. She's coming with me.'

'No Dell, I'm not.'

'Maddy, Maddy. Look, I'm rich. It'll be just like old times!' Dad started toward Mom.

My Uncle Lou stepped between them. 'Leave. Now.'

Dad reached into his coat pocket and produced a snub nose .38 po;ice special. 'No. You leave.'

'Dell, no. I'll come with you.'

'I have a pile of money and it's all yours, doll. I want gorgeous to come, too.' Dad looked agitated as he searched for Pippin.

'Okay. Just put the gun back in your pocket.' Mom sounded in control. I remember being shocked by what she said next. 'Let's go to bed, Dell. Now. Right now.'

Dad sneered at Lou. 'Not going with me? You lose again, Lou.' Dad strode over to Mom and grabbed her and kissed her hungrily and hard. She visibly tensed and Dad pulled back. 'Too much man for you, Maddy?'

'A little.' Mom sounded ashamed.

'A lot, a lot, Maddy. A lot if you've been used to farm boys and losers.'

'There's only been you, Dell. You know that.'

'Yeah, it's always been a pretty story. Come on, we're going your place.'

'Let me get my stuff, Dell.'

'No tricks. None of ya. No tricks. And get gorgeous down here. Now!'

My Uncle Lou called out. 'Dell, leave now. I'll call the cops otherwise.'

'And say what? I came to make love to my wife?'

My Uncle Lou snorted. 'That you kidnapped her at gun point.'

'You'd need a witness for that and no one here's gonna talk. No one here is on your side, Lou.'

'I saw the gun, Dad. Look, this is stupid. The cops will find the gun.'

'Oh big grown up boy saw a little bitsy gun, did he? Maybe, he like to see it go off in his mother's pretty little cheating head? That's what you want?'

'No.'

'Then keep your pie hole shut, little boy.'

'She goes with me or she doesn't go with anyone, anywhere.'

As Dad ranted, Pippin came out with a suitcase in hand.

'I want to go with you, Dad.'

'Smart and gorgeous! Put that in the car.'

'I want to take my truck.'

My Uncle Lou and I exchanged confused looks.

'Lou, do you have my keys.' Uncle Lou hesitated. 'Well, do you? I haven't got all day.' He handed a set of keys to her. She looked at the truck. 'Great, you parked in a mud hole.'

'Dad, help me push it out.'

'Better, I'll have loser and little boy do it.'

'They can't do a man's job.' Pippin started the truck and was already spinning the rear wheels. 'Come on, Dad. Get behind and push.'

Dad stepped between the truck and the barn bridge and bent over to push. The truck roared and lurched backwards and Dad screamed. Pippin shut down the engine and stepped out and ran to me, burying her head into my chest, weeping inconsolably.

My Uncle Lou rushed to the truck got in then called out. 'Pippin, give me the keys. For God's sake.'

Pippin didn't look up. She pushed the keys into my hand without a word. I tossed them to Uncle Lou but by the time he started and moved the truck, Dad had stopped moaning.

Nana, Wren, and Mom had seen it all through the kitchen window. I took Pippin in and left her with Nana.

Outside, Uncle Lou was sitting in the pick up. Dad's carcase was still sitting up against the barn bridge. I did a cursory check but a five year old could tell he was dead.

My Uncle Lou and I were walking back to call the police when Cali's car came into the lane way. She parked on the other side of the large hickory tree which hid Dad's body. As she opened the door, she noticed our distraught faces.

'Trey, honey, what's wrong?'

'Come in and we'll tell you the whole story, Cali.'

As Cali crossed to met us, she saw Dad pinned on the barn bridge wall. 'Oh God. Did you finally kill him?'

I looked at Uncle Lou and couldn't think of an answer. 'We need to call the police.'

Cali took me by the elbows. 'You need to know what happened first, honey. Was this an accident? Tell me.'

'No, I don't think so.'

'Oh my God. Pippin!

'How did you know that?'

'Pippin always had the highest hopes.' Cali approached the body. 'Could it have been an accident?'

Uncle Lou rubbed his chin. 'I'd had problems with it jumping into reverse.' He caught my look. 'Pippin can't admit to this, Trey.'

Cali leans into the body. 'Trey, he's got a gun.'

'Yeah.'

'Well, take it and hide it, honey.'

'Yeah.'

'Move! I'm going to talk with Pippin. I'll call the police. Uncle Lou, you were driving.'

'Right.'

'Why was Dell behind the truck?'

'Well, Pippin told him she was stuck in the mud. But she had the brakes on.'

'Is the water pump working?'

'Just need to switch it on.'

'Do it and soak the area then hide the hose.'

'Cali, why don't we just tell the truth?'

'The truth? Oh yes. A no-account, son-of-a-bitching abuser of a father returns to inflict more abuse and his most loving kid snaps and kills him after he threatened everyone with a gun.'

'Yeah.'

'Now, the crown's going to tell it like this. Repentant father returns to re-unite family. Bratty teen-age model has hissy fit and kills him, pre-meditated murder, Trey.'

Uncle Lou was hosing the ground behind the rear wheels adding to the natural puddle.

'Why did he come back? Now, I mean?'

'Condolences for Ella. And he won the lottery. That's his Camaro.'

'Great. Now all of us are suspects.'

'Why?'

'Trey, we are all heirs!'

'You're the lawyer. I'm just...'

'Jangled?' Cali took my face in her hands like a mother about to scold a child but she softened just as she was about to speak. 'Look, you are concerned about Pippin and that's right and normal and loving. And just like you. You must let Lou and me handle this. You saw nothing. Dell and Lou were going to get some beer and smokes. That's all you know.'

'What about Dad's car? How do I explain him owning a Camaro if I don't know he said he won the lottery?'

'You didn't see it, you were consoling Pippin, who suddenly became upset about Aunt Ella. You are a doctor, Trey.'

'Lou, you knew nothing about this slipping into reverse trick.'

'I found the notice an hour ago.'

'Burn it. And forget about reading it.'

'I didn't read it. Trey read it to me.'

'A useful distinction.' Cali looked at the tires. 'Splash mud on the tires. When the cop comes, I'll stay with him and keep him off balance.'

'Is this legal?'

'Lou! None of this is legal. Ramming a man with two tons of metal isn't legal. Not even a bastard as deserving as Dell was.' She turned to Lou. 'I know he was your brother, Lou.'

'Yeah, my brother. This is dangerous.' My Uncle Lou looked at me then turned back to Cali. 'I meant for you. I mean, this is dangerous for you. Both of you.'

'This is what families do. Besides, you're the one who was behind the wheel. Right? Get that into your head. Trey, get out of here and see to Pippin. Make sure she knows the story.'

Then Cali was in control of things and people. I still think of her that way.

I expected to find Pippin in a blubbering heap but she was alone gazing out the front window and sipping tea.

'She hasn't shed a tear since running in here.' Wren was crying and she rested her head against me. 'Why did he have to hate all of us?'

I shrugged, who can figure out monsters. Why did Mom continue to let him back into our lives, our house, or her bed? 'How's Mom?'

'Nana's with her. I haven't heard much crying though.'

'You need to listen, Wren. I'm going to tell Pippin something and you need to know it, too. So does Mom and Nana for that matter.'

'You sound serious.'

'Well, murder is serious, Wren.'

'Murder?' Wren's brain quickly sorted the ramifications, I could tell. She stopped crying.

'Pippin? We need to speak.'

'Speak away, Brother. I'm listening.'

'Uncle Lou is going to say he was in the truck when the accident happened.'

'The accidental slipping into reverse? I read the recall notice on the table earlier. My car's affected, too.'

'Forget you saw it. Forget you saw Dad. You were here in this room with me, Nana, Mom, and Wren. You heard a car and thought it was Cali.'

'Sure. Wren, is there more tea?'

'Pippin, you need to be a little upset now about the fact that Dad died in the accident.'

'I will be when the time comes, Brother. Don't worry about me. Wren is the one who needs the help. I've dealt with my disappointment.'

Something icy settled into my heart but I had to make sure that Mom and Nana knew the story. 'Wren, you are okay, right. You know what to say and what not to say?'

She nodded weakly. 'I'll just stay quiet and cry.'

'Good girl.'

Nana was rocking Mom on Aunt Ella's bed. Mom was biting her the web of her hand and whimpering. For the first time I saw how tiny and frail she was. Up to that time it was her beauty and aloofness, at least from me, that had impressed me. But her she was being rocked in the arms of my 5 foot nothing grandma and she looked small, vulnerable. And dangerous.

'Nana, God Almighty. Does she even know what's going on?'

'She knows Dell's dead.'

I squatted in front of Mom and took her head the same way Cali had taken mine. 'Mom, listen. Mom.' She didn't respond right away and I felt a little panicked.

'Maddy, sweetie, you must listen to Trey. Sweetie.' Nana and I pulled Mom into an upright position.

'Mom, listen. Pippin is in big trouble unless you can get yourself together. Understand?' Mom nodded. 'You never saw anything until after the accident. You, Nana, Pippin, and you were in the front room remembering Aunt Ella. Uncle Lou is going to say he was in the truck and that it was an accident. You know nothing about the lottery and you did not speak to Dad. Do you understand?'

'I do.'

'Nana, Mom can't say anything to anyone. She can stay like this but neither of you can stay anything. Got it?'

'I'm not senile, Trey.' She stroked Mom's hair and I noticed skeins of grey in the deep brunette curls which fell past her shoulders. 'I just wish I could have killed him.'

'Nana! You can't say...even think that!' I felt my heart sink and start to race.

'Calm down. I know what's at stake, Trey. And I'll keep Maddy away from the cops. Don't worry. Take a drink, you're hyperventilating.'

The police officer arrived in 20 minutes. He was young and a little apprehensive about getting close to the body.

I watched from the window but Cali went over this a million times with me, so I think I got this part pretty accurate.

'I don't think I should touch anything. I should call the coroner. You have one here, right?'

Cali stepped forward. 'My father is the coroner, Doctor Cotrelle.'

'Well, the victim is dead. I suppose there's no real hurry.'

'Especially since it's an accident.'

'Yes, Mrs Carson. I've seen this before. Vehicle slipped into reverse by itself and the woman drove her car through the garage wall. Where's the driver?'

'He's inside. Shaken up as you might expect. It's his brother.'

'Oh. Do you think he is up to being interviewed?'

'Uncle Lou is too distraught right now. We just buried his wife.'

'I had better wait then.'

'Thank you.'

'Were the brothers close?'

'Blood is always close, Officer.'

'I call the paramedics so he's more...'

'Comfortable?'

'Yes.'

'Thank you, Officer.'

'Are you related to the victim.'

'He is... was my father-in-law.'

'Is your husband here?'

'Inside with his family.'

'Did he touch the body?'

'No, he could see that his father was dead. He knew an officer like yourself would need an unsullied view of things.'

'Did anyone see the accident happen, Mrs Carson?'

'I think only Lou and Dell were out here.'

'Do you know why they were out here? I mean since the rest of the family was inside?'

'Catching up on old times, I guess.'

'I'll interview everyone later but now I need a list of people who were on the property at the time of the accident.'

The paramedics arrived and pulled Dad off the barn bridge wall and placed him in a body bag. Pippin looked over my shoulder to watch.

'Brother, I won't let Uncle Lou suffer for me. If the cops don't buy the story, I'm confessing.'

'Why'd you do it?'

'I set too many plates for him and said too many prayers.'

'Did you...'

'Plan it? Sure. I saw the recall notice and instantly my brain worked just like Wren's. Wah-lah, the whole picture!'

'You worshipped him.'

'Well, when your god is still dead after three days, it's time to move on.'

'What are you going to do?'

'Go to London, then Paris, then Milan.'

'I mean...'

'I know what you mean. And I mean I'm going to live as normal a life as a murderer can.'

'You're not a murderer.'

'Why is Uncle Lou going say he was in the truck?'

'Touche.'

'She should have married Uncle Lou instead of having this thirty year affair.'

'You knew?'

'Brother, I do have a brain, although no one seems to notice it. Not a Wren rocket science brain or even your brain, Brother, but I could see Mom and Uncle Lou were always...happy. What did she see in Dad anyway?'

'What did you see?'

'Touche. Now we're even, Brother.'

Cali returned and called a family conference. Everyone gathered round Cali. Everyone but Mom. She was lying down and would not respond to threats or reason.

'Officer Plod bought the story. I got the paramedics to move the truck, so it will be useless for evidence if they test it.'

'Oh thank God it's over.'

'No, Nana, it's not over. He's coming tomorrow to chat with everyone and we're going to get the story straight.'

'We know the story, Cali.'

'Trey, listen to me. We're going to rehearse what we will tell ...'

'Oficer Plod?'

'Trey, his name's not Plod. That's lawyer lingo for dumb cop. Just listen. We could all go to jail for this.'

Cali arranged us in the room. She quietly told the girls what they were supposed to know. Not the exact words, just a scenario. She put Uncle Lou in his favourite chair.

'Lou was here until you heard my car come in the lane way. You looked out a saw Dell instead. You went out and spoke with him and decided to have a quite brotherly chat. Dell wanted to see a particular childhood spot somewhere he didn't want to take his new car.'

'Yella Crick swim hole, I guess.'

'Is this what you do on the job, Cali?'

'No, Trey, I don't manufacture evidence, but you have to think like this, honey.'

'Where was I?'

'Uh...in the can.'

'What? Why can't I be out here chatting with Lou?'

'Because you need another story for why you didn't go out to meet your Dad.'

'I was in the can.'

The rehearsal went fine according to Cali. The next day the police officer, Constable Stevenson, asked a few questions of Lou but seemed to offer more apologies than anything else.

'I'm sorry about this. The pre-lim indicates that it was accidental and no charges will be brought. There's a few details and procedures you might have to attend to. Would Mrs Carson look after that?'

We watched from the window as the cruiser turned onto the road and all of us erupted in laughter, like flames flaring up from embers. All, except Mom who slumped like a zombie into Lou's favourite chair.

'Mom, stop this. Stop it now.'

'He was my husband, Pippin.'

'He was your lousy husband and my lousy father and Uncle Lou's lousy brother and probably a lousy son-of-bitch to everyone else stupid enough to be around him.' Then Pippin burst into tears and great wracking sobs. Wren and Nana came to her side and embraced her. As they did her crying stopped and if turned off by a switch. Pippin looked up her supernova smile brightening the room.

'That's enough crying over Dad.'

Cali nuzzled into me. 'Why didn't you kill that bastard long ago?'

Nana hugged Pippin. 'Pippy, come with Nana.'

'Nana, I'm fine. Really. Let's forget him and...' Then Pippin teared up. 'I can't even cry for my Aunt without hating him.'

'Pippin come here.' Mom patted the seat. Pippin came over and sat obediently.

'I suppose you hate me.'

'No.'

That's all Mom said. They just sat there, Pippin's tear stained cheek against Mom's shoulder, Mom stroking Pippin's great fall of hair. The rest of us left the room.

aftermath

Dad's funeral was a farce of course. But we were well rehearsed by Cali to take it seriously.

'You better look solemn. The police will send some one to the funeral.'

'Why? They said it was an accident.'

'Freak accident. And freak accidents always draw some police curiosity.'

'Give us the script, Cali.'

'Nothing uncontrolled. Heads down. Sighs. Stay huddled together. Speak to no one. Just hug.'

'Pippen, you place some flowers on the coffin.'

'Why me?'

'Everyone knows you loved him.'

I guess it was a normal conspiratorial meeting to disguise man-slaughter or worse. Certainly, we all acted as if we'd done it before.

'All right, then. Show time.' Cali took a deep breath and adopted a sad demeanour.

Reverend Brown did his best to find the good in a man who had abandoned his family but in the end his message used Dad's life as a road not to follow. Fair enough. Let it be a warning to the irresponsible and profligate.

Cali kept watch for a cop. One showed up and, when he realized he had been spotted, came over to Lou to offer condolences. Cali intercepted him. I put my arm around Pippin.

'Just keep sobbing.' Pippen performed flawlessly.

'Is there official interest in this death, Constable?' Cali was good about being direct when she desired.

'My dad knew Mr Carson in the army. My dad had a heart attack a few weeks ago and can't travel. He wanted me to express his sympathies.'

'Forgive me, Constable. Dell's accident happened the day Lou buried his wife. It's been a trying time.'

The officer and Uncle Lou spoke for a few minutes.

'Who was he?'

'The son of Bobby McKay's uncle, John. We trained at Petawawa together. He knew Dell, too.'

'How did he remember you, Uncle Lou?'

'I saved his life. Tear gas set off a fire. John got disoriented and I found him. Just dumb luck.'

'Lou, you never told me that.'

'Never seemed like much, Maddy. Stuff like that happened every day.'

After the wake at the church, we went to Uncle Lou's place. A week after Aunt Ella's funeral.

Pippin came unglued. Mom laid down upstairs. Wren and Cali attended Pippin.

'It was accident, Pip.'

'I'm crying for Aunt Ella and Uncle Lou.'

'Pip, I'm fine. Don't make yourself sad. Aunt Ella would want you to carry on and do your best.'

I put my hand on her shoulder. 'Come on, Pippin. Let's see a smile.'

'I'm crying first. I'm fine.'

Uncle Lou went upstairs to be with Mom. Cali and I went outside. I suddenly noticed Dell's car. It had been parked there all week.

'Should the police have towed Dell's car?'

'Technically, he was home, nearly. Do we have keys?'

'Most likely in the car.' I looked and the keys were dangling from the ignition.

'There's a suitcase in the back seat.'

'Can we look into it?'

'Maddy is his widow. There's no crime. Sure.' Cali worked the locks and they snapped open. She raised the lid and then slammed it as if it held a rattlesnake.

'Dirty underwear?'

'Money.'

Twenty thousand dollars of money. 'The lottery winnings.'

Hardly enough to live big time, as Dad wanted to. Not for long any way.

Doling out money

Technically the money belonged to Mom, if, that is, it had been Dad's. The cash was fresh stacks tens and twenties with Royal Bank of Canada wrappings.

'It looks like Sinatra's suitcase.'

'Dell said he was giving all of the money to Maddy.'

'So that means we do not have to tell an authority about this.'

'If Dad didn't steal this.' Wren seemed unimpressed by the sight of the money.

'If this cash is lottery winnings, somewhere there will be proof.'

We sat around the kitchen table. Wren looked up occasionally from a volume of the Great Works of the Western World she had borrowed from Aunt Ella's book shelf. Pippin looked like a wet kitten. Mom was regal and sovereign.

'Cali, is this money mine?'

'Dell was your legal husband. His property is yours.'

'But Dell wasn't round much, Cali.' The Drama Queen uses understatement!

'My cousin is a merchant sailor. He sees his family once a year. Still married. The fact that he was away a lot doesn't matter since neither of you tried to dissolve the marriage.'

'The car, too?' Dad had arrived in a brand new '76 Camaro LT with every option, including a limited-slip rear end, and A/C.

'Dell probably couldn't have financed it. Not with his spotty credit.'

'I'll check. But he probably paid cash. His background would have scared off lenders.'

'Lou, may I give the car to Trey?'

'Maddy, this is all yours. It's your call.'

Wren spoke up. 'I don't want anything, Mom.'

Pippin started up crying again. Nana embraced her and spoke quietly to her. 'Pippy, come lie down.'

'We're still forgetting Aunt Ella. This is her time. Not...his.'

'Pippy, you are right. Lou, close that suitcase.' Imperial decree.

'Good idea, Maddy. I'll find out if there's a lien against the car.'

I prayed there wouldn't be. It was some beautiful car! I kissed Mom on the cheek and she seemed pleased.

Lou closed the suitcase and placed in the front closet but it didn't stay closed for long. It was a lot of money. That Camaro I lusted for, sold for less than a quarter of what was in the suitcase.

Wren continued to read at the kitchen table. Pippin and Nana had fallen asleep in the front room. Mom and Lou went upstairs to talk. Cali and I went for a walk along Yella Crick.

It was a wonderful July day with a breeze which stopped flies from bothering us as we wandered along the creek. The water was low and slow but clear and we could see baby snapping turtles hugging the banks and catfish meandering in the shadows.

'On the surface you people seem normal'

'This doesn't happen in your family?'

'Mother winning the tennis club trophy is as exciting as things get at my place.'

'I would have thought Peggy losing would have generated more excitement.'

'Trey! Mother is just competitive, that's all.'

'Shush. I hear a Piranga olivacea.'

'What?'

'Scarlet Tanager. Look, in that Iron Oak.'

'How do you know these things?'

'Mr Chesterfield. Doesn't he go birding on your property?'

'Where doesn't he go?. I guess I never went out to chat with him. I haven't spent much time out in the wild.'

'Wild? You'll love Algonquin.'

'Algonquin? Have we spoken about it?'

'We've talked about a canoe trip.'

'I thought you meant a little cruise through Hillman. I'm not sure about Algonquin.'

Trouble in paradise. 'Is the money really Mom's'

'Almost certainly. If, if Dell really won that money.'

'I don't think we can trust Mom with it.'

'That's Lou's responsibility.' Something in Cali's voice told me we weren't going to get involved.

'That car's some beautiful.'

'Trey, you sound like Mr Toad from Newfie-land.

'Cute, ain't it?'

'It ain't.'

I started walking. 'Come on, I'll show you an Opry Passer.'

'And what is that?'

'Outlanders called it a song sparrow.'

'I never know what language you'll be using to talk to me, Trey.'

More doling

The church ladies had packed our Suburban with casseroles, and left overs from the funeral. Wren warmed up stuff for supper and when Cali and I returned from our nature walk, she announced it was time to eat.

'Did Trey teach you the Latin names for birds or the Louian names?'

'Louian? I didn't make up those names for things, Wrennie. I learnt them from my old Uncle Prescott.'

'Lou, we could build a new place.'

'May I say grace.'

'Yes, Pippin.'

'Dear Lord, I am sorry for all of this. I am sorry I haven't cried properly for Aunt Ella. I am sorry for Dad...'

'Pippy, save that for your prayers, darling.' Nana shot an anxious look at Mom and Uncle Lou.

'Yes, Nana. Thank you for all the wonderful things You give us even though we don't deserve any of those good things.' Pippin chocked back tears. 'Thank you for this food. Amen.'

'Amen.'

'Looks good, Wren.'

'Yes, I heated it up perfectly.'

'Nice of you to think of the rest of us, Wren.'

'Thank you, Cali. Did you decide what to do about the money?'

'We need to ascertain if it's Dell's money.'

Mom's face grew very hard. 'Dell wanted me to have the money, Calista.'

'Mom, Cali is just saying that there's always some red tape. Maybe taxes. She doesn't want you to get ahead of yourself.'

'Nearly thirty years of waiting. Getting ahead of myself? After thirty years of waiting? Lou, tell them.'

'Maddy, we all want you to have what you're due. Cali and Trey just want it to go smoothly.'

'Maddy, these kids suffered through this, too. And Lou and Ella. You've been well looked after. And now...'

'...and now?'

'...you are going to treat them right.'

'Mother...'

'Nana, I don't want anything.'

'Well, Wren, you can give your portion away. But you are going to receive it.'

'Mother, it's mine!'

'So was all the grief and neglect Dell doled out. But we all shared that.

'Belle...'

'Lou, just be quiet and you won't get between a mother and child.'

'I was going to say you are right, Belle.'

'Lou!'

'Maddy, the kids and your Mom have had to put up with a lot.'

'And Aunt Ella.'

'She has her reward now, Pippy.'

'What do you suggest, Mother?'

'Half for the kids.'

'Half?'

'Half.'

'Half, then.'

'I'm splitting with Nana.'

'Me, too.'

'It's unanimous.'

Pippin smiled at Mom. 'Okay.'

Uncle Lou stood up and retrieved the money. I nosed around in the suitcase. Dad had packed some sport shirts, jocks, socks and ...'

'No!'

'What's wrong, Brother?'

'Dad's car...'

'Stolen?'

'Worse'

'Worse than stolen?

'It's rented. We owe $500.' I waved the rental contract.

'Lou, can we buy a camper for ten thousand dollars?'

'We could put a camper on the truck for two thousand.'

'And have eight thousand to pay someone to look after the farm.' I got the party-pooper look from Mom. 'It's that or sell the stock.' At that instant, I spotted a cheque stub from the Ontario Lottery Corporation. 'Good news. Dad did win the money.'

A cheer went up around the table. 'Good old Dad!'

Pippin burst with laughter. 'Is anyone going to thank me?'

Cali shook her head. 'This family is nuts.'

Sound observation, the laughing quickly turned to crying but in the end, even Wren took the twenty-five hundred cash.

The engagement Lou & maddy

As my father-in-law says, internship is all the hours God sends... and then some. I'd be gone days at a time, calling home between rounds to chat with Cali who, over the months, went from disappointment to resignation to apathy. Finally, she stopped answering the phone. I just left I love you messages on the tape. I sensed she was there thinking, Yeah, where the hell are you then?

It was a May day, nearly a year after Aunt Ella's funeral. (We never referred to the other thing which happened that day.) I was sleeping on a couch in the doctor's lounge when a nurse awoke me.

'Dr Carson, you're not on call. You haven't been since 8 pm. You need to go home.'

The words not on call shot through me like a dose of adrenalin. I jumped up from my temporary bed nearly knocking the angel of mercy over. 'When am I due back?'

'Not for 36 hours.'

'I could kiss you, Sweet Sally.'

'I could be kissed, doctor. But you should be kissing Mrs Carson.'

I gave her a peck on the cheek.

I hadn't been home for three days and I almost knocked on the door before walking in. Cali was there in a filmy baby doll nightie.

'Do you like it, Trey?'

'There's hardly enough of it to judge.' I grabbed her and kissed her hard on the lips. 'Do always hang around the apartment like this?'

'Only when I expect a sexy man to come through the door.' She kissed me again. 'I called Sally when I noticed your work log on the fridge. Go take a shower.'

In a novel, the lovemaking would be exotic and nearly violent and long and mutually fulfilling but in my reality Cali was still Miss Jangles and I was still the jangle-lee. I rolled off into a dreamless sleep. When I awoke, Cali was dressed in joggers and was running the carpet sweeper over the living room broadloom.

'I made brunch, honey.'

She didn't sound disappointed. 'Thanks. I have the day off.'

'Yes, dear.'

'Right, you knew. What would you like to do?'

'Nothing earth shattering. Take the bikes out to the island. Have early dinner at Sardi's.'

'Sounds like a plan.'

I was looking forward to some fresh air and Cali in her biking shorts and dinner at our new favourite restaurant. It would have been a great day. Half-way through brunch the door bell rang.

'Jehovah Witnesses again, I'll bet.' I opened the door and it was Uncle Lou and Mom, looking like kids on a date.

Mom kissed my cheek and hurried by to hug Cali. My Uncle Lou shook my hand and gave me a manly hug.

'What brings you kids to the big city?' Cali sensed something.

'I want your permission, Trey, to marry Maddie.' My Uncle Lou looked into Mom's eyes while he spoke.

'You don't need my permission, Uncle Lou.'

'It's the proper thing to do, though.'

Now, you know I love Uncle Lou, but what did the word proper have to do with our family? 'Okay, to make it proper. Sure.' I suppose I held out hope that normal and proper would someday not have to used ironically when referring to the family.

'When's the happy day?' Cali sounded very feminine. She wasn't normally interested in women's talk.

'Next month.'

'Next month!' Cali sounded as though someone had yelled Fire! More normal history replayed itself in my mind.

'I've waited thirty years, Trey. I'm done waiting.'

'Congratulations, Uncle Lou. I guess now you'll be my dad, too.'

Something in Mom's look told me there was more to come. 'Trey, Uncle Lou, Lou is your father.'

'Oh God. Let me get a drink for everyone.' Cali opened the liquor cabinet. She poured out straight double ryes for everyone. 'This is an interesting family. In my family the biggest surprise was that my uncle chose orthopaedics over neurology.'

'Mom, are you sure? I mean the medical studies...'

'Trey, I know. Lou is your father.'

'Trey, my brother had a problem.'

'Sterile?'

'He was impotent.' Mom looked into her empty glass. 'Dell was never able...'

Cali beat me to the question. 'Lou fathered the girls, too?'

'Yes. We thought it was just battle fatigue and well a lot of men had problems, so we kept trying.'

And I thought, so if one brother couldn't put you in the club, you'd go next door and get a little help.

Cali saw my discomfort and quickly raised her glass. 'Congratulations, Lou and Maddy.'

Lou poured some rye from his glass to Mom's. And we all drank to their up coming nuptials, as they say.

'How did the girls react to all of this?'

'We haven't told them. I thought you should hear it first since you are my strong one.'

I always thought I was Mom's least favourite. She spent most of her time and energy on the girls. 'I'm surprised.'

'I made sure you spent time with your father.'

'I never spent time... oh.' I drained the glass and motioned to Cali for a refill. 'I meant Dell.'

'I was always worried about Pippin. She loved Dell so much. I had to protect her.'

'Why didn't you divorce Dell? It would have been easy.' I regretted the stupidity of that as soon as it escaped my mouth. 'Stupid question. Sorry.'

My Uncle Lou, Dad, whatever, put his arm around Mom. 'Dell had suffered a lot. He wasn't always bad, Trey. I wish you had some good memories of him. The war twisted him and he couldn't get untwisted.'

'He would lie beside me and cry all night.'

'I thought that was you, Mom.'

'When Dell fell asleep, that was me you heard.'

Cali was crying but I wasn't sure if it was for Mom and Dell and Lou, or for me and her.

'This doesn't excuse Dell, Trey.'

'Dell knew we weren't his. Why did he even stick around?'

'Life's complicated.'

'And Aunt Ella knew, too. She was too attuned to things not to know.' I took another long pull of rye.

'Poor Aunt Ella.' Cali was sobbing on my shoulder.

My Uncle Lou nodded. 'She loved all of you as if you were her kids. You all knew that and felt it.'

We sat and spoke about the past all afternoon. Cali asked them to stay for supper but Uncle Lou said they we tired and had a hotel nearby and wanted to get an early start to Kingston to tell Wren the news, as he put it.

I was a little tipsy when I hit the bed. So was Cali. We made love again and it was more relaxed this time and she climaxed, or faked one, then started crying.

'What's wrong, darling?'

'Just happy.'

I was smart enough to leave it there. New Dad, satisfied wife. It was quite a day for one that was supposed to be anything but earth shattering. As I drifted off though, I worried about how Pippin was going to react.

Cali had made breakfast by the time I had showered and dressed. 'Good morning, sailor.'

'You're bright this morning.'

'I had a nice evening. You don't go into work until two, we can still have a bike ride.'

'I'd like that. If someone rings the doorbell, don't answer.'

'How do you feel about the...revelation? You must have at least thought about the possibility.'

'Great bacon. Hickory maple?'

'I know how to get nasty during interrogation, mister.'

'I thought about it. I knew they were lovers. But I never knew anything about Dell and his problem. How did Mom and Uncle Lou get together in the first place?'

'Here's a better question--why did Dell stick around?'

'Dell was smitten. Aunt Ella told me that once. Maddy has that ability. Like Pippin.'

'Is our life going to get complicated?'

'Sure. All lives do. Besides it is complicated. My Uncle is my father. My little sister is...'

'...don't ever say that, Trey. You must forget that.'

'My little sister is...confused, I think. And she's in a profession which is a step above whoring. They treat women like meat.'

'You were rough with me yesterday.'

'Sorry.'

'It wasn't a complaint.'

I would have expected Cali to mention her little excursion into nirvana and was mildly disappointed. But, although I couldn't guarantee a climax, I could always offer up some slap and tickle.

The wedding

GATHERED AT MOM'S PLACE. WREN DRIVES FROM LONDON AIRPORT AFTER FLYING FROM MILAN RUNWAY JOB. THE NICETIES AND GREETINGS ARE OVER. SHE JUST GETS UP FROM AN HOUR'S NAP AND FINDS EVERYONE IN THE FRONT ROOM. NANA, ROBIN, CALI, MOM, UNCLE LOU AND ME.

Pippin was immediately on guard. 'I'm used to being stared at but...' She slumps to a chair. 'The police!'

'No. No. Pippin nothing like that.'

Pippin smiled. 'Well, tell me. Wedding cake got burned?'

'Uncle Lou... Lou...'

'Uncle Lou... what is it, Mom?'

'He's your father.'

Pippin bolts to her feet. 'No. No. No, no, no, no.'

'It's true, Pippin.'

'NO! It's not true. Daddy is dead.'

'Pippin, it's true.'

Pippin knelt before Nana, placing her head in Nana's lap.

'Pippy, honey. You have to listen.'

'I don't want to listen. Daddy is dead.'

'Dell wasn't our Dad, Pippin.'

She raised her head. 'None of us?'

Wren got up and sat on Uncle Lou's knee. 'I'm glad Uncle Lou is my dad.'

'Brother, tell them.'

I knelt down and held her hands. 'Pippin, you know Uncle Lou loves us.'

'I always loved all of you.'

Pippin turned to Uncle Lou. 'I love you, too. But my Daddy's dead.'

Cali came over and cleared the rest of us away. 'Pippin, Lou is your father. You can pretend, wish, or dream if you want, but the fact is, Lou is your dad.'

'No.'

'Look at me. He loves you and you have always loved him. Right?'

'But...'

'Right? You love him, right?'

'Yes.'

'Then stop this now. Maddy, I'm going to lay this out for Pippin, okay? Lou?'

They both nodded.

'Dell was impotent but your mother loved him enough to try to overcome that. She couldn't, he couldn't.'

'He knew we weren't his?'

'Yes, and for a few years he tried to make do with the lie.'

'And Aunt Ella knew?'

'Yes, Pippin, Ella knew. She loved all of you. She'd tell me that and Maddy. She loved Maddy, too.'

My Uncle Lou was a private man. He was about duty and responsibility and soldiering on. And here his life was dissected like a frog in freshman biology. I tried not to listen and I vowed to forget what I heard.

Pippin dried her eyes. 'Why didn't you tell me before I set his place at the table a thousand times and said a thousand prayers?'

'Pippy, life isn't always neat, honey. Gramps left me too, but I didn't want little Madrigal to think it was her fault, so I said he died.'

'Mother!?'

I know it was the first time that I'd heard this news. And it seemed that Mom hadn't heard it before, either. Uncle Lou reached for Mom's hand. Wren stood up, allowing Uncle Lou to put an arm around Mom who was starting to sob.

'Maddy, grow up. I'm tired of everything being World War III. Pippin, your mother made a mistake, lots of them, but she only wanted the best for you. Just like I wanted for her.'

Mom continued to cry, her soft eyes growing red and raw.

'What were you going to say if Gramps showed up, Nana?'

'Oops.' She kissed Pippin. 'It was none of your fault. None of it. So stand up and give Lou a hug. And your mother.'

Cali threw up her hands. 'Are there any other revelations?'

I was looking out window and nearly laughing but not because any of it was anything but sad. 'I have one piece of news.'

Cali sidled up to me. 'You did find out if Mary Jane wore a bra?'

'Uh? No! Archie's coming with a cow for Mom and Uncle...Dad.' Archie was leading a young Guernsey wearing a bright blue ribbon round her neck.

My Uncle Lou got up. 'I better bed a stall. I wasn't expecting Archie today.'

'I'll help you, Uncle Lou.' I had had enough of tears and rehash.

As he was leaving, Pippin reached out for his hand and kissed it. 'I'm sorry.'

Later that night I was nearly asleep.

'Trey, do you remember the Sadie Hawkins dance?'

'Not really. I didn't go.'

'Janny felt me up.'

'I know that.'

'I told him not to say anything.'

'He made up a some story about you slapping him.'

'I did, after.'

'I've had enough revelations today, Cali. Good night.' I knew it but I was hoping it wasn't true. And what had she slapped him for after the feel up? Too much information.

I couldn't sleep so I went to the kitchen hoping to find something to snack on. Pippin was sitting in the dark at the kitchen table.

'I used to sit here some nights.'

'I know, Brother. I would sneak out to see if you were crying.'

'I was listening to you cry out.'

'That was Wren. I always had nice dreams about Daddy taking me wonderful places.'

More news. 'I suppose I'll find out that I'm from outer space, next.'

'Brother, did you know about Gramps?'

'Nope. I didn't know about Janny, either until an hour ago.'

'Cali told you?'

'I suspected it for years.'

'You're taking it well. If it's any consolation, he wasn't very good. Like most men. Cali was very disappointed. She wished she'd waited for someone better.'

'Uh? Waited? You mean...'

'Janny took her cherry. Didn't she just tell you?'

'No, she forgot about that part.'

'She said it wasn't a big deal. Brother, I'm sorry. I thought you knew.'

'Hush, Pippin, it's not your fault.'

'I know. How did we get such a screwed up family?'

'We're the Jews of Renwick! God's chosen family.'

'What are you going to do about Cali?'

'I don't know. Probably nothing. It's done. Who else knows?'

'Wren.'

'I would have thought she might have told me.'

'She loves you. She wouldn't want to hurt you.'

'Are you okay about Uncle Lou?'

'Brother, I love him, you know that. I don't think I can call him Dad.'

'Me, neither.'

'Honest?'

'For twenty-seven years he was Uncle Lou. It feels funny.'

'Did you ever think he was our father, Brother?'

I told Pippin about the interlude before Christmas. By the time I was finished she had cried, laughed, and cried again.

'I wish I had seen the snowflakes.'

Pippin went silent. The back light through the window illumed her with an angelic glow. I imagined God saying, I will give this girl perfect beauty. Then she snorted a derisive laugh.

'My fashion friends feel I don't understand their sophisticated life-styles. If they knew about this little complication...'

'Are you going to tell them?'

'It's none of their business. This is a blood thing. A family thing. I'll tell them Lou is now my step-dad. If they ask. I'm in a very self-centred business, Brother. No one thinks about anything but looks and clothes. Money's good but the rest is...'

'Vapid?'

It could only be Wren. 'Can't you sleep either?'

'I heard you two chattering away and thought I was missing something. Cali managed to find the sandman, I see.'

'Touchy subject.'

'Marital bliss become marital blitz, Trey? Tell me all about it.'

'You know all about it. I just found out, thanks.'

'What did Nana say today? Oh yes, oops!'

'You'd make a good fit with the rag trade, sister.'

Wren faked a model's runway walk. 'Sublime in her black professor's cloak and sensible shoes...'

'Actually, you have wonderful bone structure...'

'Thanks, Pippin, but you don't need to make up to me for your outburst today.'

'...and horrible hair, which has never been properly cut.'

'Maybe, I have a career in Milan, after all.'

'No, but you can look 100% better than you do.'

'I don't want to be too beautiful. I'd start attracting great-looking men with low IQs.'

'Women go for that type.'

'Janny, didn't have a low IQ!'

I laughed loudly before I could catch myself.

'Trey, come to bed.'

'I hear your wife, Trey. Go. Go, before you think of something stupid to say or do or not do.'

'I don't know about...you know. Promise?'

'Yes, Brother. Wren, promise Brother you'll keep this a secret and I'll give a runway model makeover.'

'I promise.'

I kissed both of them on their forehead and took several deep breathes. 'Coming Cali, darling.' By the time I got to Cali, she was sound asleep in the middle of the bed. So I sat and watched her. I awoke at dawn arms draped around the bed post. And I had a terrible stiff neck.

trouble with cali

After Mom and Uncle Lou married, I spoke with Mom weekly by phone. I think Uncle Lou encouraged her to call for he was always there where she phoned. After a few minutes the conversation would peter out.

'Would you like to speak to Lou?'

'Please. Take care, Mom.'

And I would ask Uncle Lou --I still couldn't call him Dad, since that word was darkly coloured-- about Mom and the farm and Yella Crick.

'You miss ol' Renwick, uh?'

'Yes, Uncle Lou.'

'Well, stick to your work, Trey, and we'll go deer hunting this fall.'

'I wouldn't miss it.'

But of course I did. Not every year but more years than I wanted to have missed. Besides my practice, I was involved in research at University of Toronto, perfecting mechanical hearts. It was like interning again. I would go from hospital to university and back to the hospital.

Cali added her name to the firm McMallin, Smithe, & Lancaster. Toronto's mega elite corporate law firm became McMallin and Cotrelle-Carson & Partners only six months after she joined. For six months we saw each other alternate weekends at our weekend house in the Muskokas.

I called Uncle Lou.

'How's the heart?'

'Bad...'

'Your valve idea didn't pan out?'

'Oh, no. That thing is working. There's talk about a Nobel Prize.'

'Things not going well with Cali?'

'I haven't seen her enough in the last year to know really.'

'Come home, take over Doc's job.'

'I'd love, too, but Cali is inline for a senior fellowship at Osgoode.'

'She needs a baby.'

'We tried.' I sniffed. It seems Carson men have problems finding the right woman for breeding. 'Pippin's magazine just went global.'

'Wren told me.'

'Wren's being recognized by Wall Street for her work on chaos theory.'

'Must have learned that from Dell.'

That was the only time Uncle Lou ever mentioned Dell since the accident.

'I must go, Uncle Lou.'

'Talk to Cali. Come home. I need some help with the chores.'

'Sounds like fun.'

It did sound like fun, or, at least something I would like to return to, but I had research to finish. A lot of people were counting on me to perfect a mechanical heart. Milking and chores would have to wait.

cali come home let's retire

Cali kept rising through the legal world. When we went out for dinner, we were always interrupt by some admirer, usually a co-ed wanting to be prime minister, judging from their intensity.

'Do you mind, Trey?'

'What? The scallops are wonderful.'

'My fans.'

'No, I adore you, too, remember?'

'It doesn't bother you? You're world famous...'

'...in very restricted circles.'

'I feel guilty, Trey. You are working for the good of sick people and I make rich people richer.'

'Makes us rich, too.'

'We already are.' Cali seemed wistful.

'But?'

'No but.'

'I thought I detected something.'

'I want a baby, Trey. Even Wren and Pippin and every woman at the firm...'

'We could adopt, Cali.' She said okay but despite months of talking back and forth, we never really looked into adopting.

Later, I spoke with Uncle Lou. I hadn 't caught on to calling him Dad as Wren had adopted immediately and as Pippin had done in a matter of weeks. I found it surprising that I just couldn't bring myself to call my father, dad. The word had too much baggage for me, I guess. It wasn't much of an argument, since Pip had a whole train load of baggage, or should have had.

'Uncle Lou, I want you to know how much you mean to me.'

'I know that, son.'

'I mean, I...calling you Uncle instead of dad...it isn't about my feelings for you as much as about Dad.'

'Trey, I know. We've always been close.'

I could hear a waver in his voice. 'Can you come fishing next week? I'll fly to Chatham pick you up and then we'll fly to the lake.'

'What about your Mother?'

'Cali will stay with her. Can Archie's boy handle chores?'

'Cali agreed to this?'

'It was her idea.' It was, but she'd made the offer off-handedly and most likely thought I wouldn't take time off my project or from my medical practice.

'I'll get back to you, Trey. Maddy's resting.'

'Is she feeling okay?'

'Yeah, tuckered from gathering and candling eggs.'

'She's doing that?'

'Yep, I put her in charge of all things chicken.'

'Except slaughtering, right.'

'Except that.' Uncle Lou chuckled.

Fishing trip

Uncle Lou and I went fishing together hundreds of times. Most of the trips were close to home, Yella Crick for catfish or Lake Erie for perch or pickerel. In spring, we would head to the Bruce for brookies. In summer, we might troll for muskies on Lake St Clair. After I earned my pilot's licence, we headed north to Nippising and beyond for real wilderness angling.

By the time I was thirty, I owned a Cessna 172 on wheels and I had a float rating. I flew a few hours weekly to stay current and rented a float plane several times a year for a weekend of fishing with Uncle Lou. Cali came once, as did Janny. Sometimes I took members from my research team, but usually it was Uncle Lou and me.

During my flight training, I'd used the system of diagramming which Uncle Lou had taught me years ago in high school. I trained for my pilot's licence in a ten-day period just after receiving my doctorate in medicine. Three hours of ground school and nearly four hours of flying every day was rugged, but I succeeded.

'Don't get cute, Trey. Stay with the rules.'

'I will, Uncle Lou.'

pippin and wren

Pippin had married a man who owned a chain of stores which sold work clothes. Pippin shrugged at the irony of it. 'Work clothes sell.'

Wren married her department head. 'He's the only man who truly understands me.'

Wren and Pippin settle down into motherhood.

professional life no kids

I pulled the spanking new Mercedes 230G into Uncle Lou's lane way. Smoke plumed from the shop stove above the sheltering cedars then dispersed to the south like dreams. The maples had turned bright and brittle but oak and hickory leaves were still lustrous as leather. Starlings huddled nervously on the barn roof, watching the sky. For winter I supposed.

Uncle Lou came out of the shop to meet me. He'd lost weight since Aunt Ella had died. Mom's cooking probably, or lack of it.

'Nice car.'

'Doc bought it for Cali. He has a dread of not being able to get to work.'

Uncle Lou chuckled, then sobered. 'How is she?

'Busy.'

Uncle Lou let that slide. 'I've scouted Archie's cornfield. There's a huge buck back there who makes a habit of feeding in the patch early morning.'

'Corn should be off by now.'

'I paid Archie to leave an acre to feed up my venison.'

'A big buck will just be stew.'

'There's some yearlings who come to feed, too.'

I unloaded the car. I hadn't packed much, just my bow and archery gear and hunt coveralls.

'Cali didn't pack for you?'

'Busy.'

'I wondered why you didn't have a trailer behind your car.'

We laughed. 'How's Mom?'

'Not too busy.' We laughed again.

'What are you men laughing at?' Mom was at the back door, in an apron. 'Trey, darling.'

I trotted to the door at Uncle Lou urging. 'I'll bring your gear.'

I kissed Mom on the cheek. She held me at arms length. 'You look like a doctor. Very solid.'

I grinned stupidly.

'Let's clear a path, folks.' Uncle Lou nudged us into the kitchen.

There was a pot of soup on the woodstove and a basket of eggs on the counter by the sink.

'Try some soup, Trey. I used Ella's recipe.' She noticed me eying the basket of eggs. 'I'm cleaning them before storage.'

I sat down. I wondered where I was. Who was this woman who looked like my Mom? 'I'd like some soup.'

I had no high expectation for the soup. Mom's cooking highlight was nine kinds of jello, remember. 'This is delicious.' What did you expect me to say? But, it was delicious.

'It's quite simple really. Lou helped me with some of the measuring, teaspoons and so on. But not now. Nana is so proud of me.'

'Yeah, so am I, Mom.'

She busied herself cleaning the eggs, dry polishing them of chicken crap and bits of straw. You can't wash an egg with water and expect it to keep any length of time.

'I'm in charge of the hen house. I didn't realize how much work it would be...'

I expected to hear a complaint.

'...but it's fun, in a way. Except the culling.'

Uncle Lou had returned. 'I stowed your gear in the spare room.'

'I was telling Trey, I'm looking after the hens, now.'

'And doing a wonderful job. That's not just an opinion. We are getting more eggs.'

I shook my head. 'Got more soup?'

Mom smiled a motherly smile. 'You really like it, Trey?'

'I really like it.' And I really like my new Mom, I thought. I should have said it.

'One more bowl. I don't want you to spoil your appetite for tortiere, tonight.'

Pinch me, I thought. 'I'm glad to be home.'

'We'll sight in when you've finished eating. I'm going to get my bow and damp down the stove in the shop. Won't be but a minute.'

After Uncle Lou had left, Mom suddenly asked about Cali.

'Is everything okay?'

'With Cali? Yeah, she's busy.'

'Too busy?'

'She's a partner, the youngest one ever.' A moment of silence stretched out then snapped.

'Wren's pregnant, again.'

'She didn't tell me.' I sounded hurt and Mom picked up on it.

'She called about an hour ago. I haven't even told Lou yet. Wren's going to call again the tell him. And you.'

'How pregnant?'

'It's still early. I wanted Wrennie to wait to tell Lou, but she is so excited.'

Wren called just after the tortiere. Uncle Lou was excited. I hear Wren call him Dad and I winced inside at my own reticence to use that word.

'Wrennie, that's wonderful news. Tell Trey.'

Uncle Lou handed the phone to me and immediately embraced Mom and whirled her around the room.

'Congratulations, Wren.'

'Thanks, Trey. How are things there?'

'I just had tortiere for supper. Made by Mom. I saw her do it.'

'She's learning to milk cows, too.'

'I wonder what happened?'

'Another miracle.'

I recalled the last time that word was used and the miracle lasted only a week and ended in disaster. 'Yeah. Morning sickness?'

'Nope.'

'It is a miracle.'

Uncle Lou and I had sighted in our bows before supper. I hadn't shot for a while but after twenty minutes I had my 15 yard shot into a coffee cup down pat. Uncle Lou had been practising all summer and was able to hit a coffee cup at 25 yards with ease.

'I set up a pit blind 10 yards off the feed spot. We leave an hour before sunrise.'

After supper, we inspected all our gear and tackle, paying special attention to the edges of our broad heads and security of the fletching.

At eight o'clock, I said good night and sacked out. I read a chapter from Saxton Pope's book, chapter three again. I fell asleep dreaming I was the last Indian, the last of my line. It was a sad dream.

At five o'clock, I smelled coffee and bacon. I dressed quickly and came to the kitchen.

'Mom!'

'Good morning, Trey.' She had a plate full of breakfast in each hand. 'Sit down. I get you a coffee.'

I sank into a chair. 'Good morning. Where's Uncle Lou?'

'He's getting his gear.'

'What about chores?'

'I can milk but I can't manage the pails when they are full. Lou said he'll sneak back in a few hours and bring them to the spring house.'

'You milk and feed?'

'Lou set out the feed last night. The milking isn't hard. It makes my skin soft and tight.'

I shook my head. 'Do you dress out deer, too?'

'Trey, a lady doesn't gut deer. But I will cook it up if you bring me a roast.'

'Are you feeling alright?'

Mom' hands went to her face. 'Am I pale? I feel fine.'

'You look fine. It's just all this...'

'...energy?'

'Yes, energy.'

'Lou likes it.' Mom flashed her happiest smile. No make up, an apron and still stunning.

'Good morning, son. A big buck is about to meet us. I can smell it.' He kissed Mom on the cheek and patted her bum.

'That's breakfast, Uncle Lou.'

'Your Mom is doing the chores. I doubled binned the feed. She just needs to open a new one. And I doubled the water troughs.'

'Smart.' I stuffed a sausage into my mouth. 'Don't the hogs nose off the lids?'

'They did. I put a lock on them.'

We took the Jeep to within about 100 yards of the pit blind. Uncle Lou had been coming back daily at this time for the last two weeks, so the deer were acclimated, as he put it, to the noise. It was just sunrise when we slipped into the pit.

Uncle Lou had provided straw bales to sit on and had planted willow around the pit, knocking it down in two spots which he thought would provide the best shooting lane for the season.

Deer would pass about seven yards from the pit on their way to feed in the horseshoe of standing corn which arced from five to fifteen yards from the edge of the blind.

I gave Uncle Lou a thumbs up. The morning breeze was light and directly into our faces as it slipped off the cooling land into the warmer lake.

Within fifteen minutes we heard the arrhythmic steps of whitetail. Two does make their way past the pit-blind. They scarcely turned their heads our way, seeming to concentrate on a dried corn leaf which waved from a broken stalk.

They were corn fed beauties, but neither of us had a doe tag. In 1980 it was still rare for game regulations to allow the harvesting of does. But we knew that does went ahead of the buck. He covered more ground than a doe. She knew the area better. She went ahead to spot danger. He hung back until the coast was clear.

The does avoided the open ground and slipped into the corn a few rows back. A shot with a bow would have been difficult. I hoped the buck would be a little less wary when he finally arrived.

Ten minutes later, we heard him. The same stutter step. He stayed off the trail and picked his way through the bush. I winced at Uncle Lou.

'Too smart. No shot.' I mouthed the words.

Uncle Lou rocked his hand, maybe.

The buck took another twenty minutes to cover the last fifty yards. He stared at the pit-blind for several minutes. We froze and nearly stopped breathing. Finally the buck assured himself and came into the feeding area, slipping into the corn as the does had done.

We lost sight of him and the does, but we continued to hear their careful steps. An hour past. The sun was above the horizon. I could see into the corn a few rows now. The buck was bedded and eating a cob. He stretched his neck and turned to us and for the first time I caught sight of his rack. He was about 20 inches across and had at least 14 points.

I flashed ten and four with my fingers to Uncle Lou. He flashed ten and six back.

'I've seen him close.' He just mouthed the words.

The buck offered no shot. He was rolled on his side so his back was toward me. And he was still 20 yards away and into the corn behind three rows of potentially arrow-deflecting stalks.

For the next hour the buck was nearly catatonic, only the flicking of his ears told me his was actually alive. I was crouched and my knees and thighs were beginning to pain me. I eased myself onto the straw bale seat to work out the kinks. I messaged my leg with my right hand and in a moment's inattention, the arrow slipped off the string a clattered ever so softly to the soft pit floor. To the deer it sounded like a cannon shot and they exploded through the corn.

I held my forehead in despair. As always we sat silently for at least ten minutes, in case the deer had stopped to listen, then Uncle Lou patted my shoulder.

'That's why they call it hunting for deer and not shopping for deer. What a beauty! Tomorrow, we'll try for a yearling.'

Uncle Lou knew that big old buck wouldn't be back for a week, perhaps two. I knew it, too.

On the way back to the Jeep, Uncle Lou started chatting.

'Doc says he thinks Cali is restless.'

'Restless?'

'She's been at their cottage in Haliburton a lot. Are you two getting along?'

'I don't see her enough to know, Uncle Lou.'

'There's your answer. What happened?'

'We've been trying to start a family. She's miscarried three times. She can't get beyond about six weeks.'

'Ella got pregnant once and miscarried.'

I'd never heard that before. 'That's tough.'

'Only time I'd seen her depressed. It was a year before you were born.'

'I've asked Cali to think about adopting.'

Uncle Lou sniffed. 'Ella wouldn't. I don't know why. I guess she had you kids, already.'

'Cali's got nothing. I mean she fawns over Wren's little one but...'

We were at the Jeep now. Uncle Lou stashed the gear and started the engine.

'You need to call Cali. That buck can wait. He'll be record size next year. You need to get back to her.'

Uncle Lou handed me the phone when we returned to the house and went out to the barn to help Mom.

The phone at our apartment rang and rang. I tried her work number and found she had called in sick.

'Doctor Carson, your wife called in ill about an hour ago.'

'She didn't answer the phone at home.'

'I wouldn't either, doctor. I'd be sleeping.'

'Did she sound ill?'

'I'm not a doctor, Doctor.'

'Sorry, Zelda. Thank you. If she calls again, please tell her that I will be home in six hours.'

'Yes, Doctor Carson.'

I went to the barn. Mom and Uncle Lou were snuggling and I interrupted them.

Mom looked over to me. 'Trey, are you going?'

'I can't reach Cali. She called in sick.'

'I'll pack you a lunch so you won't have to stop.' Mom hurried out.

Uncle Lou rubbed his jaw. 'You don't think she's ill.'

'Things haven't been so good, Uncle Lou.'

'Someone else?'

'I don't think so, but she attracts men like...Pippin and Mom.'

'You need to cut back some hours.'

'She spends just as many. It's not just me, Uncle Lou.'

'Be home first and in a few days she'll be there, too. Or...'

'Or?'

'You'll know it's time to move on, Trey.'

I didn't expect that. I wasn't prepared to move on. I loved her. She still jangled me. She knew that. Cali knew that.

The drove quickly to London before the weather closed in. By Woodstock the highway was closed by whiteouts. The Mercedes 230G was the premier off-road vehicle in 1980 and, shod with four very aggressive Michelin radial snow tires, it was in its element. I turned off 401 and headed down Highway 2 as the snow fell heavier and blew harder. The radio said the freak storm had grounded even the snow plows in Oxford County. Police were asking people to stay home.

I was stopped by a cop near Guelph.

'We're warning people about the road, sir.'

'I'm a doctor. I must see a patient in Toronto.'

'The road's barely passable. Plows have been pulled.'

'This has four-wheel drive, officer. Really, this is an emergency.'

'A life in jeopardy?'

'A whole family.'

'Better gas up at Moe's a mile down. Power is out from here to Mississauga and you won't be able to buy fuel until the lines are repaired.'

The snow was drifted three feet in spots. I fuelled up at Moe's and bought a quart of chocolate milk and leather work gloves and a garden spade to dig out in case something stupid happened.

'We got room in the back. Nothing fancy, if you don't want to chance it.'

'I have a patient in Toronto.'

Moe looked around guiltily and snuffed his cigarette. 'You won't make Hog Town today. Not on two. Local fella just jack-knifed his 18-wheeler about five miles down the road.'

'How do you know before that cop down the road?'

'Locals call me first. Then they call the authorities.'

'What about concession roads? Do you have a map I could buy?'

'No.' He reached under the counter. 'But you can have this one.' He traced out a route on back roads. 'You can bunk in back. My woman's got an Irish stew on and punkin pie and coffee. You're welcome to join us.'

'Thanks, Moe, but I have to get to Toronto.' I looked out at the weather. I couldn't see my car at the pump. 'Stew and pie sounds good. May I use you phone to call?'

Moe shoved the phone across the counter. 'Jiggle the red button until you get a dial tone.'

The apartment phone rang and rang. The business phone went immediately to a message saying they had been closed due to weather. I called the Cotrelles.

'Peggy, it's Trey. I can't reach Cali.'

'Are you at Lou's?'

'I'm near Guelph. The roads are closed. Have you heard from Cali? She called in sick today.'

'She's at the cottage. Trey, what's going on?'

'Peg, I don't know. Cali's been...'

'...difficult?'

'Yeah, since the last miscarriage. Depressed and manic. She won't take meds.'

'She just called but the call was dropped. I tried to call back but the service was dead. The storm's taken everything down.'

'Is she going to be safe there?'

'Yes, everything was stocked up. Food and fuel for the generator. Cali will be fine.'

'I guess I'm driving to the cottage. If she calls, please tell her I'm heading up first thing in the morning.'

Moe's wife's name was Maureen. They called each other Moe. She was a chain-smoking, hair in curlers type who shuffled around in fuzzy slippers, but she could cook and talk.

'Moe says you're a doctor on a mission to save a patient in Toronto.'

'Yes. It's my wife actually.'

'Oh. Oh. What's her name?'

'Calista.'

'Is Calista very ill, Doctor Carson?'

'Please call me Trey, Maureen.'

'Is Calista very ill, Trey?'

'She just had a miscarriage. Her third one.' That detail just kept coming up. I had guessed people would feel that one miscarriage was easily survivable.

'Oh. She'd be depressed, most likely. My sister killed herself because of it. Oh, I'm sorry.'

'She's upset.'

'Arlene just couldn't pull herself together. Moe, what did you say about Arlene?'

'She couldn't rally herself.'

'Yeah, she couldn't rally herself.' Maureen blew her nose and lit up another cigarette. 'But none of us thought she'd...'

'It's a difficult thing to spot, even for professionals.'

'I blame myself. She told me she felt that way and I just never believed it. Well, you wouldn't would you? Not of a young and beautiful girl. Moe, tell Trey how young and beautiful Arlene was.' Maureen pulled a kleenex from her pocket.

'A looker. All you Grant girls were. You could see her wiggle from half a mile away.'

'Moe, don't be graphic.' Maureen dried her eyes. 'You can wash up down the hall, Trey. Supper's in two minutes.'

Supper was delicious and plenteous. We had coffee and pie in the front room and watched the Leaf game. Cities may close but hockey goes on. In Canada, anyway.

My bed was an army cot which Maureen has made up with extra blankets. I fell into a dream-filled sleep, dreams of running and getting nowhere and, at the end of every futile run, a body, which at first was Sharla but eventually became Cali.

In the morning after a trucker's breakfast, Moe and Maureen packed me off with a bag lunch and a large cup of coffee.

'Let us know you got where you were going, Trey. Kiss Calista for us.'

I followed Moe's tracings for miles, straddling the hogback to avoid the ditches on each side of the featureless white expanse between page-wire fences. But I was only able to drive about 20 miles per hour. At noon, at this speed, I was still a day away from the Cotrelle's cottage. I'd passed through three small villages and saw no evidence of power. No one else was on the road except for three kids on snowmobiles. They cheered when the Mercedes clawed through a three foot drift. They pulled alongside and waved and shot off down the road, packing the snow and easing my progress.

Snow always ignited a sense of adventure and nostalgia in me. Uncle Lou would wake me early on the first morning snow of winter to hunt cottontail.

With the exception of Jack, Uncle Lou's dogs tracked, and Jack was really Mom's dog. I was only five when I first waited on the run with Uncle Lou and his 12 gauge loaded with low brass sixes. Walter belled sweetly every ten seconds as he pushed a bunny around a 100 yard diameter circle.

Sometimes we tracked fox without dogs and without weapons. It was an exercise in observation and cunning. A fox, once he realizes he is being followed, is a formidable creature to track. He feints down soft trails and doubles back on a hard surface. Foxes will run up trees and spring into bushes yards away from their last tracks. A fox will run in coyote tracks to confuse dogs. He will run through barnyards and along board fences no wider than a half inch.

'Look, Trey, this dog fox is burrowing through the snow like a big red mole.' Uncle Lou pointed to tracks disappearing into a long eight foot deep snowdrift along a stand of sumac whose bark had been gnawn by rabbits. We waited a half hour, scouting the length of the drift before we found his exit. He was long gone. New snow was falling, covering his tracks.

On the way back we talked.

'You were lucky to live in the time of Sir Winston, Trey.'

'What brought him up?'

'He was smart, like Reynard.' Uncle Lou called the really clever foxes Reynard.

'Most people don't think that slyness is a virtue.'

'Foxes are observant, Trey.'

'Sir Winston saw what was happening in Germany not what he wished to see. He didn't fool himself.'

That sounded like don't get cute; don't fool yourself -- that's a hard one. We keep seeing things as we'd like them to be. As least I've done that, despite Uncle Lou's lesson.

Aunt Ella thought snow was cleansing. She fed her chickens outside any day it wasn't blizzarding. She'd bundle me up and make me carry the feed bucket. Uncle Lou thought he could concoct a self-feeder which would feed them for the day, but Aunt Ella insisted on rousting the birds into the yard for feeding twice a day.

'If nothing else it keeps the hen house fresh smelling. And it stops the hens from becoming weak from doing nothing except huddling in the straw.

To that end, she would also hang a sunflower center with seeds from the hen house ceiling, high enough that the birds had to jump up to eat. 'Trey, can you imagine spending all spring, summer, and fall chasing down bugs and scrapping out seeds and then being hand fed? Your mind would turn to hog slop.'

'Uncle Lou says chickens have no brains.'

'Oh, hush, Trey. Lou knows a hen's got all the brain she needs to get by. Why would a hen need more brains than that?'

'You want us kids to get really smart.'

Aunt Ella turned my head. 'See that little hen with little fleck of white on her breast?'

'Yes, Aunt Ella.'

'She knows Jennette scares up grasshoppers when she returns for milking in the late summer afternoons. The others haven't caught on. So even though she's small she gets the best feed.'

I guess I understood the lesson. I'm sure Wren understood it.

Aunt Ella was big on learning and contemplation. Besides the Great Books, she bought a microscope and a telescope for us to use. On summer nights we aimed from the picnic table into the constellations. Uncle Lou sat quietly smoking a cigar, to keep the skeeters down, he'd tell Aunt Ella and kiss her on the neck, which always made her shiver no matter what the temperature.

Wren hogged the telescope most nights. I didn't mind and neither did Pippin who would sit Uncle Lou's lap and stare up at the sky looking for falling stars.

'They're meteors, not falling stars. Stars are bigger than a million Earths.'

Pippin clearly didn't believe her. 'Wrennie, there would be no room in the sky!'

'The sky has no end. It's like forever!' Wrennie kept her eye glued to the eye-piece. 'Crab Nebulae is exquisite.'

Aunt Ella was puffed up with pride which she would ask Jesus to forgive in her nightly prayers.

'As big as forever?' Pippin pondered that a moment as she swept her hand across the sky. 'Then the stars are a long long long way a way!' She looked to Uncle Lou for agreement.

'You've got a wonderful brain in that pretty little head, Pip.'

'So has Wrennie!' Pippin went silent.

'What wrong, Pip?' Uncle Lou nuzzled her.

'Is she coming down with something, Lou?'

Uncle Lou shook his head. 'She's fine, Maddy.'

Pippin turned her head back into Uncle Lou's chest. 'The Earth is just a wee thing like an ant.'

'Compared with stars it is, Pip. Wow, I think I can see L-4!'

'Well, I'm glad God loves us.' Pip was only about six at the time. 'Or people would be very lonely.'

I've always wondered about the true depth or height of Pippin's intellect. Even when she discussed math with Wrennie, she never seemed overwhelmed by any idea. Most men were too dazzled to notice her brain.

As I was passing through XXXX I met an OPP cruiser headed west. The cop eyeballed the car and quickly lit up his lights and spun the cruiser in behind me. He whooped his siren twice; I pulled over.

'Are you Doctor Trey Carson?'

'Yes, officer. What's the problem?'

'I've been asked to tell you to call Doctor Cotrelle in Renwick.'

'Is that all?'

'That's all the information I have, doctor. You can use my radio.'

'Thank you.' I read his name plate. 'Thanks, Constable Verral.'

The police officer set up the call and Peggy answered. She'd been crying.

'Trey, Cali's had a breakdown. Her father's flying to Huntsville with Doctor Leon.'

'Cali's in hospital?'

'In Huntsville.'

I thanked the officer for the call. He mumbled an acknowledgement, embarrassed. He understood breakdown to be code for attempted suicide.

'A man close-by could fly you to Huntsville, if you are interested. I could have another officer pick you up at the airstrip.'

'Yes, please.'

The pilot was a retired OPP officer who farmed one concession from where I'd been stopped. He was just finishing clearing his runway with a tractor powered snowblower as we pulled into his lane way.

'Jeff, this is Doctor Carson. He needs a lift to Huntsville.'

Jeff and I shook hands and he disappeared into the hangar while I parked my car and said good bye to Constable Verral.

I stowed what little gear I had, actually just the lunches Mom and Maureen had made for me and the quart of chocolate milk, while Jeff did he walk-round. I watched the heat gauge slowly rising into operating range.

The plane was a 1961 Cessna 150 with its tricycle gear converted to what is called a Texas-taildragger to assist short field takeoffs. It also increased the cruising speed a good 12 miles an hour, increasing it to about 135 mph, a little less than that since she was carrying ski landing gear.

Jeff did a thorough walk-round, inspecting all surfaces and linkages. One last look around and he approached to door, so I hopped out to let him in. He shucked his coat and tossed behind the seats.

'Too damn bulky. Parkas.'

I had only a sweater and a fall jacket. I kept both on. Light planes are only warm in July, I had found.

We hadn't discussed cost yet. 'I haven't enough cash on me. Will you take a cheque?'

'For what?'

'For this trip.'

'It's on the OPP's tab. We don't charge to take people to hospital, especially a doctor.'

'The patient is my wife.'

'Double reason to declare an emergency.' Jeff had finished his run up. 'Seat belts. Butt your fags. Hold on. Time for take-off.' The little blue plane leaped into the air. Jeff patted the dash. 'She's running the 235 engine. Combine that with her tail squat and she's in the air faster than stink off a skunk.'

The frigid air helped, too.

'John said your wife had a breakdown.'

'John? Oh, the officer.'

'Good man. Hate to lose him. They've ordered him to Oakville. It'll be his last shift next Tuesday.'

'He was very helpful.'

'My Lindy went into the dumper after we lost our daughter.'

Another horror story. 'I'm sorry to hear that.'

'She slipped into a drainage ditch waiting for the school bus. The bus driver found her. Too late.'

'I can't imagine the pain of that, Jeff.'

'Lindy never got over it. She died with it.' I fell silent. 'I didn't mean to depress you, Doc.'

'How have you survived?'

Jeff sang. 'Leaning, leaning, leaning on the everlasting arms.'

'That's one of my Uncle Lou's favourite hymns.'

'Yep. Elisha Albright Hoffman wrote that. My great grandfather.'

'Your wife wasn't a believer?'

'Lindy believed.'

'You said she died with it.'

'Oh, last thing she said to me, was that she was still hurting about Tilly. Cancer.'

'I thought she had committed...'

'...suicide? Lindy should have. Cancer ate her up.' He started to sing again. 'O how sweet to walk in this pilgrim way, Leaning on the everlasting arms; O how bright the path grows from day to day, Leaning on the everlasting arms.'

I felt buoyed by the hymn. 'What's our ETA?'

'Three-ten touchdown if I can fly right in.'

'My wife, Cali, she recently miscarried.'

'That's tough on women.'

'Third time in two years.'

'She'll take some watching, then.' He tapped his forehead. 'Sorry, doc, you know all about this.'

'Don't apologize, Jeff. It's just as hard for us professionals to understand and ...'

'...accept?'

'Yep.'

As we flew on Jeff pointed out landmarks, keeping me abreast of our progress. We didn't talk anymore about family or sickness. Both of us had had enough of that, I guess. I know I had.

The droning of the engine and the sunlight made me drowsy and I nodded off. I awoke when Jeff throttled down for landing.

'Almost here. I saw a cruiser heading out to meet us.'

'Thanks a lot, Jeff. I hope to see you again.'

'You will. I'm flying you back. Unless you want to leave that car with me.'

Hospital Cali

The OPP cruiser pulled into the emergency entrance of the hospital.

'When you're done, tell the desk to locate me and I'll take you back to Jeff.'

'Thanks, Constable.'

I introduced myself to emerg desk nurse.

'Yes, Dr Carson. I'll have an orderly take you to your wife's room.'

'Is she awake?'

'I don't have any information on the condition of patients, Doctor.'

'Of course, I'm a little disoriented.'

'Can I get you a drink?'

'No, thanks. I just want to see my wife.'

The volunteer orderly was an older man, possibly retired. 'She's awake, Doctor Carson. I just passed her room on the way down. I'm Benjamin.'

Benjamin turned from the elevators.

'I thought she was upstairs.'

'She is but the gift shop is just round the corner. You need to pick up some flowers. No chocolate.'

'Yes, sir. Are you a retired doctor?'

'No, retired janitor. Flowers are usually better for folks, I've noticed. Except asmathics.'

'Thanks for the heads up, Benjamin.'

There were no gladiolas in the gift shop. I settled for red roses.

'Good choice, Doctor Carson. Follow me.'

Cali had her back to the hallway when I arrived. Benjamin leaned close. 'Think of something nice to say.'

'How's I love you?'

Benjamin flashed two thumbs up.

Cali looked like she had been sketched with thin hard lead. Her eyes were staunched gray.

An oxygen tube penetrated her left nostril. Her wrist, invaded by an I.V. drip. A web of wires entangled her. Tied down, awaiting interrogation.

'I love you, Cali.' She didn't smile nor answer. I stuck the flowers in her bed pan. I went over her file even though I should have asked permission from the physician in charge. Carbon monoxide poisoning.

Cali guessed what I had read. 'It was an accident.'

'How?' I sat on the bed and reached for her hand, but she seemed to shrink from it.

'The generator vent got plugged by with a mouse nest.' I looked sceptical, I suppose. 'One of the doctors told me.'

'How were you found? Who knew you were in trouble?'

'Bill found me.'

'Bill? Bill who?'

'Bill Owens.'

The knight in shining armour who owned a castle, fiefdom, and peasants.

'What was he doing there?'

'Saving my life.'

'What was he doing at the cottage?' It didn't sound very loving.

'Bill drove up when I called in sick.'

'He knew where you were.' It wasn't a question.

'He checked home first. Then came up here.'

'Cozy.' I stood up and went to the window. It was snowing again. 'Why weren't you at work?'

'I didn't feel well. You know that.'

'So you drove to the cottage.'

'I was already at the cottage. I'd been there a week.'

'I guess I lost track of you.'

'You were in New York. So I came up to enjoy the colours.'

'White on white.'

'Who knew this would happen before Halloween?' She pushed herself into a sitting position. 'How did you get here?'

'I was headed back to Toronto Friday night. Got trapped outside Guelph.'

'You got a deer on the first day?'

'No. Uncle Lou thought I should get back to you. The big buck can wait.'

'You drove from Guelph in this?' She nodded toward the window.

'I flew on an OPP medical emergency flight. I rode in a police cruiser right to the door. Everyone's waiting to take me home, too.'

'Doctor Carson...' Cali held out her arms and I sank into her embrace. 'I have something to tell you. But, I need to rest first.'

'Bad news?'

'The worse.'

'You're leaving me?'

Cali shook her head slightly. I thought I saw a smile. 'After my nap.'

Cali quickly slipped into a deep sleep. I checked her chart again. No sedatives had been prescribed. It's usually not a good idea for a victim of carbon monoxide poisoning to sleep so I took her pulse and respiration. Both strong and normal. I continued to watch her for the hour she slept.

Every ten minutes or so a nurse looked in. The first time, the nurse tried to hustle me out but immediately went pale and became apologetic when I told her I was a doctor and the patient's husband. She returned in a few minutes with a cup of coffee for me and a copy of the Globe&Mail.

I'd been in New York at the new Twin Tower offices in lower Manhattan to discuss private funding for the development of the mechanical heart valve I'd been working on. I'd discussed the unpredictability of government and university funding with Uncle Lou.

'Go private, Trey.'

'But wouldn't that just exchange political pressure for financial pressure?'

'Financial pressures are more reasonable than political ones.'

'How?'

'Politics is based on emotion and power. Financial decisions are usually made after assessing facts.'

'More reasonable.'

'Less capriciousness.'

'Capriciousness?'

'Didn't expect a hick to know that word, did you, son?'

'Honestly? Nothing surprises me about you.'

'I read those books Ella bought for you kids.'

The group of investors I met with in New York were pleasant but said no to making an investment. At this time.

'Work up a presentation showing us the benefits to the investors. Your idea looks sound. How does it make money for us?'

I promised to find stats which revealed the economic potential of the idea.

'Dr Carson, will you meet us again, next month?'

'Yes, I will. I'll have the figures in two weeks, after that I can meet you with 48 hours notice.' I shook hands with the head of the group.

'Very nice to meet you, Dr Carson.'

'My pleasure, Mr Buffett.'

We met again a month later. After talking with Uncle Lou, I added data on a few spin off uses of the valve.

Uncle Lou had studied a set of plans for the valve which I'd sent him. 'This can be used to control any flow with a fluctuating pressures. Gases, liquids, probably plasmas. It'd make more money in industrial gases applications than medicine.'

'This valve can be used anywhere flow is subject to varying pressure.' I sounded just like Uncle Lou.

Mr Buffett looked over his glasses. 'You just made yourself very rich, if this idea pans out.'

'You going to fund me?'

'Yes. Have your legal people contact us and we'll set up the contracts.'

I'm getting ahead of myself. Right now looking at Cali, who was lucky to be alive, I was feeling anything but successful. I had a lot of figures to generate and really wasn't sure I could come up with enough convincing data. And I'd blown a shot at the biggest buck in three counties.

A nurse came in. 'Doctor Carson, Doctor Cotrelle left word to tell you he was delayed by a medical emergency.'

'Emergency?'

'I don't know for sure but there was a big accident involving two school buses in Leamington. That might be the reason. He knew that his daughter was out of danger, Doctor Bowen spoke with him.'

Doctor Bowen came in at that instant. The nurse introduced us and left with the bed pan and roses.

Doctor Bowen was a robust older man, about 70, six two, 230 pounds. A middle linebacker. He handed me Cali's chart.

'I already took a look. I'm sorry.'

'I would have looked at it right away, myself.'

'What's your prognosis?'

'Complete recovery from the carbon monoxide poisoning. I think she may be clinically depressed.'

'This was planned?'

'Perhaps not. But her friend said she had been lethargic and making rookie errors at work.'

'Friend?'

'William Owens. He owns a cottage on the other side of the lake from the Cotrelles.'

'He's a partner of my wife, legal firm partner.'

'Yes, the hospital is one of their clients.'

'It was fortuitous for him to drop in. It was dicey, Doctor Carson.'

'I was in New York and then dropped in on my folks. I should have been up here with her.'

'You'll be able to take her home in two days.'

'May I stay here. Doctor's quarters?'

'Sure. I may ask you to accompany me on my rounds. I have followed your work on artificial hearts.'

'I'd be honoured to learn from you Doctor Bowen.'

'I'll have Nurse Gaylord get you settled.' He left then looked back into the room. 'You're much younger than I thought you would be.'

I called Uncle Lou from the nursing station. 'Cali is going to be fine. She's resting now.'

'Good. I found a paper in your room from a company called Berkshire-Hathaway. Looks important.'

'They might invest in the project.'

'You never said anything, Trey. Why not?'

'I guess I just wanted to hunt white tail. And Cali...'

'Weighing on your mind?'

I nodded but didn't continue down that road. 'They want a lot of data. At the time, I thought I could find it.'

'Send me a simple set of plans. If the idea is good, it'll have larger applications.'

And the rest is history.

I asked Uncle Lou to call the Cotrelles, since I couldn't tie up the hospital phones for much longer.

When I returned to the room, I notice Cali had turned onto her side. She'd be awake soon and I'd get the bad news. Perhaps she might sleep for a hundred or thousand years.

the allergy

The four years since aunt ellie's funeral

In the four years since Aunt Ella's funeral and the accident, my life had changed 180*. I was now Doctor Carson and a pilot of my own plane. Cali was a junior partner in the most prestigious law firm in Toronto, meaning Canada. Cali was already lecturing at Osgoode and I was acknowledged as the premier researcher in the field of bio-mechanical hearts in North America. We were both just 30.

We lived downtown at the Fairmont Royal York Hotel in a two bedroom suite on the top floor. The hotel staff looked after cleaning and laundry and meals if need be, freeing Cali and I to work and travel and play, mostly work. The hotel granted us three parking spaces where we parked our Mercedes 230G, Mercedes 450SL and a succession of Ducatis. In 1980 it would have been a 900SS. I mostly rode it out a field west of the city where I hangered my plane. In five years I had barely accumulated 4000 miles on it.

Uncle Lou and Mom visited us regularly. Mom, of course, was taken by the luxury. Uncle Lou always seemed nervous, afraid that Mom would be overcome and refuse to go back to a rude farm house with endless chores at the end of a dead end dirt road. But Mom always went home cheerfully but thankful for the time off nonetheless.

Uncle Lou would not take money from us, though we offered many times after money ceased to be an issue for Cali and me.

'Trey, if I need it, I will ask. Honest. We're managing fine.'

I expected that but I didn't expect Mom to agree so completely. 'I'd only spend it on stuff that really doesn't make me happy.'

'For long.'

'For long. Right, Lou, darling.'

Cali and I enjoyed hosting, though finding time, even on weekends was increasingly difficult. I was besieged by invitations to speak at conferences around the world. Usually Cali couldn't come because of her own itinerary at Osgoode or at the law firm.

'Ron, get me out of this. I have work to do here. And I'd like to spend time with my wife.'

'Wouldn't we all?' Ron downed a shot of Chivas. 'I meant I would like some time with Laureen. Theoretically.'

'Problems?'

'No. Not especially. I didn't anticipate that the disparity in...'

'...bank accounts?'

'...our ages would be a problem so soon.' Ron threw up his hands. 'Menopause.' He poured a shot. 'At least there's still the money.'

'Ron, about the Paris trip.'

'And London, Trey.'

'Get xcxcx to go.'

'Trey, Trey, Trey. Your attendance means at least a million to the university!'

PEG AND DOC, PIPPIN AND MARK WERE DIFFICULT TO IMPRESS, THEY WERE LOADED, AND WREN NEVER GOT ONTO THE MONEY TRAIN THOUGH SHE DID WELL AS A PROF AND HER HUBBY WAS A DEPT HEAD JANNY AND A SUCCESSION OF WOMEN

bad news

Cali awoke from her two hour rest like a bubble of air floating up through water. She seemed startled and pleased that I was there but immediately darkened. She had been looking tired, now that I thought about it, for several months. I had mentally chalked that up to 14 hour days but now I saw there was a sadness in her, a lethargy. My beautiful, young, successful wife was clinically depressed. I felt like a fraud of a physician.

'Cali girl. Cali girl.' I dabbed a tissue in her ice water and brush it across her forehead. She seemed to rally.

'Still here?'

'You're the only person in town I know.' I smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead, still cool from the ice water.

'How long have I slept?'

'A couple of hours.'

'And you were here the whole time? You must have been bored.'

'I like watching you.'

'You stay away a lot.'

'Cali, I have a demanding job. So do you. It's not by choice that I have to work.'

'It's not by choice that you come home.'

'What does that mean?'

'That when work's done for the moment, you come home.'

'And?'

'Well, there's no other place to go. If you had another place, Lou's for instance, you'd go there.'

I felt a blackness consuming me. 'Let's not argue about this, Cali. What's this news you have for me?'

'What's this bad news, I have for you, you mean.'

'Okay. Bad news.'

She seemed embarrassed to continue but she bit her lower lip and took a deep breath. 'I have semen allergy. I'm allergic to your semen.'

'Are you sure?'

'As sure as you doctors can be. It's been getting worse, more itching and pain, sooner and sooner after we have sex. If it gets really severe I can go into shock.'

'But that's rare.'

'Yeah.' She reached for me and I sat on the bed and held her closely.

Sharla 24 masters college 1981 trey 32

Nana had kept in touch with Sharla who had moved to Vancouver to attend the University of British Columbia there. Nearly ten years had passed. I hadn't spoken with her and had seen only one photo of her, a high school grad picture. She looked wonderful.

'Trey, can you take me to Pearson Airport come next Monday?'

Of course, I couldn't. 'I'll send a driver to pick you up, Nana. I have lectures all week. Can you come Sunday and we'll have supper?'

'Yes, darling boy. I'm going to Sharla's convocation. Masters of Fine Arts in Music.'

I grew a little wistful. 'I bet she was the best.'

Nana was eighty-two and in wonderful health. She had missed Sharla's graduations from elementary and high school and her BA convocation but she was determined not to miss Sharla's Masters convocation.

'No telling if she will work for a doctorate. This may be my last chance, Trey.'

I ordered a car and driver to pick up Nana from her Grosvenor Street apartment to bring her to our hotel suite.

'She'll need or want to stop at every service centre.'

'Are we in a rush, Doctor?'

'No.'

'I'll take my time, sir.'

'Buy her and yourself a nice lunch somewhere.'

'Yes, sir. Thanks.'

It was nice to have money.

Nana arrived five hours after pick up.

'Walter, was a very nice man. We had lunch and he stopped whenever I wanted him to.'

Walter was well paid to stop. Cali arrived home nearly at the same time as Nana. Cali was a little, miffed, I believe would be the correct word.

'It's nice, I suppose. But this girl could have ruined your life, Trey.'

'Well, she's all growed up now.' I regretted that immediately.

'Yeah, Trey, that's just what I want to hear.'

'I didn't mean it that way.'

'Which way is that?'

'You know I can't win an argument with you, Cali. I love you and that's all that really counts.'

Any mention of Sharla brought out the cat claws on Cali. I should have told her immediately about Sharla but didn't and she learned about her about her a year after we married.

'I got a nice letter from Sharla thanking me for her birthday card.'

I said nothing. 'Nana, would you like a drink?'

'A Tom Collins, Trey, thank you.'

'Who's Sharla?' Cali somehow had heard all the way in the kitchen.

'Sharla?'

'Yes, Nana, Sharla. Who's Sharla?' Nana looked at me. So did Cali. 'Trey?'

I told her the story and got to the punchline and Cali erupted.

'Fourteen! Fourteen! Trey how could you?'

'She looked twenty.'

'But she was fourteen! You had no idea? None?'

'None.'

'You're a doctor.'

'I didn't give her a physical, Cali. It was all quite innocent.' I actually used the word innocent.

Cali rolled her lovely blue eyes. 'Nana, you didn't know?'

'She drove her own car.'

'At fourteen?' Cali sagged. 'She was a criminal, too?'

I squinted at Nana. Don't say anything about Sharla's dad, I prayed.

'She wasn't, but her dad was a bank robber.'

Cali slumped onto the couch. 'Did you kill him?'

'No. We blackmailed him into letting Sharla go to her Aunt Bettie's place in BC.'

'Blackmail.'

'Sort of the threat of blackmail.'

We eventually sorted it out but Cali was not completely sold on the idea of keeping contact with this girl-woman.

'You're over this little interlude, I trust.'

'I haven't spoken with her since that day Nana found out.'

'That's not what I asked.'

'I'm over the interlude and Sharla.' I meant that, too. I never told Nana nor Cali about the offer of virginity, though I suspected that Sharla may have told Nana. After Sharla left and I was invited back to the apartment Nana said she thought most men would have succumbed.

'To Sharla's beauty?'

'To her offer.'

That seemed as if she had knowledge but she was insightful, too, so maybe she just guessed.

Dinner with Nana went well. She didn't want to go out on the town, so Cali ordered room service Swiss Steak, which was a house speciality at the time.

'A lady could get used to this.'

'You deserve it, Nana.'

At eight o'clock, Nana said she felt tired. 'I guess it was a bigger day than I thought.'

'You'll be rested tomorrow. We should leave at nine o'clock.'

I awoke Nana at seven.

'Oh, I overslept.' Nana got up a six every morning. Every day of her life. I checked her vitals on the sly as I helped her out of bed and things checked out. Everything seemed normal.

'I think the soft mattress made you drowsier.'

'It felt wonderful. Like heaven.'

Nana insisted we have a prayer before leaving for Pearson. I had fallen away from church attendance because I always seemed to be working on Sunday. I tried to keep up my devotional studies in the morning but the world intrudes. The devil keeps from the Bible, Nana warned.

'You must get back to regular church attendance. Both of you.'

We'd be in a church soon. Sooner than anyone expected.

We kissed and hugged at the gate.

'Call collect when you get to Sharla's.'

Cali and I watched as the 707 took off on runway 28.

'She loves this Sharla girl, doesn't she?'

'Yeah. She salvaged her.'

'I have a surgery this afternoon. I'll be home about six, barring complications.'

Cali kissed me. 'Surgery is nothing but complication, Trey.'

'Let's have that Swiss Steak again.'

'I'll chill some wine.'

We never got to the wine. Air Canada called at eight thirty-eight. Nana was found dead when the stewardess tried to wake her for landing in Vancouver.

'We can ship the body back, sir.'

'I'd rather accompany it back. When is the next flight from Pearson?'

'Two hours. I can book you from here.'

Cali took it hard.

'What's wrong? Trey?' Cali grasped my arm as I hung up the phone.

'It's Nana. She died on the flight.' Cali buried her face into my chest. She said nothing. 'I need to tell the others.'

I guided Cali to the sofa and gave her tissues. I called Uncle Lou.

'Nana died on the flight. I'm flying out tonight to bring her back.'

'Poor Maddy. And Wrennie and Pip.'

'Should I tell Mom?'

'No, I'll manage. How's Cali?'

'Weepy. She's here crying.'

'What are you going to do about Sharla?'

'Do?'

'She's expecting Nana. Someone's going to have to tell her something.'

'I'll call and tell her. Nana will have the number.' Crazy way to put it.

'Don't meet Sharla alone, Trey. That's just asking for trouble.'

I turned away from Cali and lowered my voice. 'Sharla's over that now, Uncle Lou.'

'Maybe. Maybe, she's not the problem.'

As Uncle Lou said that I remembered how Sharla felt against me, like a lash of a whip. Or a branding iron.

I couldn't reach Pip or Wrennie but I left messages for them to call Uncle Lou, well I said Dad, actually. I said it was about Nana and that it was bad news. I just couldn't leave the real message. I would see them in a few days. I loved them. Kiss the kids for me. I just couldn't tell them Nana had died. Not on tape.

flight into danger Numbers 32:23

The non-stop flight from Pearson in Toronto to Vancouver takes nearly seven hours. I couldn't get first class tickets. The best seat available was mid-cabin aisle. I prayed I wouldn't also get paired with a talker. I did.

As I sat down, he was introducing himself. 'Marty, from Thunder Bay.'

I shook his hand. He was a small man about 5 foot 7 and 140 but his grip was substantial. 'Trey.'

'Trey. Are you the third of something? Trey is usually someone the third.'

'No. Just a name. A nickname at that. My real name is Roman.'

'I'm named after my grandfather.'

'I never knew my grandfathers. Neither one.'

'Oh, I'm sorry. Business travel?'

'No, my grandmother died.'

'In Vancouver?'

'On the flight to Vancouver, this afternoon.'

'I'll let you alone with your grief. If you wish to chat, let me know. Did she know Jesus?'

I nodded. 'Nana came to know Him well, Marty.'

'Then we only need be sad for us and our loss, Trey. She's gone to Glory. Hallelujah.'

We sat quietly through take off and by the time the seat belt sign blinked off, Marty was asleep. A post-it stuck to his lapel read: WAKE ME FOR CHAT.

I leaned back was dragged into sleep by the drone of the jet turbines and the gentle shake of flight. I was conscious of having a dream about conflicting thoughts about Sharla and Cali. And Janny.

Uncle Lou was right that just maybe Sharla wasn't the one who was going to want to revisit old times. Cali's infertility ate at me. I began to understand how Dell must have felt, as if he were at the end of a long plank, looking into oblivion.

'Maybe. Maybe, she's not the problem.' I kept hearing Uncle Lou over and over. And there was Janny standing behind and calling over Uncle Lou's shoulder. 'Sorry, I tried not to. You understand. Tell me you understand.' And Dell dead against the barn bridge. Cali lying in a hospital bed, crying and barren. Where was Recker?

I awoke somewhere over Manitoba.

'Bad dream?' It was Marty. 'Here, I ordered two ginger ales.'

I took the plastic cup and had a sip. 'Thanks. Yeah, bad dream.'

'I used to dream about monsters. Horrible things that gradually changed into people I knew. I never figured it out. I loved these people. And they loved me.'

'I think my monsters turn into me.' I didn't go on.

Marv looked out the window to the stars. 'We're over Manitoba. Crossing into Saskatchewan by now, I suppose.'

'Can we get something to eat?'

'We can try.' Marty sat up and signalled a stewardess. 'Michelle, can we order a sandwich?'

'I have some chicken sandwiches, Marty.'

'A couple each please, Michelle. My friend Trey is hungry, too.'

Michelle smiled. 'I'll be just a few moments. I have a passenger in distress in first class.'

'I'm a physician, perhaps I can take a look.'

I followed Michelle to first class. 'The passenger is a 60 year-old man with chest pain. Arthur Denton from Chatham, New Brunswick. Overweight. Has had two whisky sours and two bags of chips. He started complaining about ten minutes ago.'

'Hi Mr Denton, I'm Doctor Trey Carson, do you mind if I check you out?'

'Please, doctor. My chest is killing me.'

'Are you a nervous flyer?'

'No, I fly a dozen times a year.'

His pulse was strong, a little fast, perhaps. 'Slight tachy-cardia.' Patients like to know their doctor is learned. 'Heart's a little quick but nothing to worry about.'

I noticed grease stain and a fleck of mustard on his tie. 'Did you eat before you got on the plane?'

'Yes. A corned beef on rye.' He tried to stifle a belch.

'Gassy?'

He nodded, embarrassed. Michelle looked away.

'Michelle, do you have Tums or Rolaids aboard?'

'I'm sure we do, Doctor Carson.'

'Mr Denton, I think you just got a mild case of acid reflux. But I want you to see your doctor for a check up as soon as you get home.'

'Thanks, Doc.'

'Michelle's going to bring some tablets. Take a couple and don't drink any more alcohol. Ice water only.'

'Yes, doctor, thank you.'

When I got back to my seat, Marty was waiting with chicken sandwiches. 'I prayed for a good result.'

'Thank you. It worked. Upset stomach.'

'Are you a heart doctor?'

'Research doctor. I'm working on valves for mechanical hearts. I spend my time in hospitals and university labs.'

'I was in farm impplements. I'm retired.'

'You look too young to be retired, Marty.'

'Thanks, I'm seventy.'

'What's your secret, Marty?'

'I pray seven days, eat six days, and work five days.'

'You fast a day a week?'

'Yep, Wednesdays.'

'What about exercise?'

'Walk when I can. Garden in summer. Shovel snow in winter.'

'A simple plan.'

'A simple life.'

A simple life. Of course, on the surface, Uncle Lou lived a simple life. Little house on a little farm on a little dead-end dirt road. A wife. And his mistress and their three bastard children 200 yards down the road. Another little house on his little farm. Oh yeah, and the mistress was his brother's wife, a brother whose murder his pretend family covered up. But now, my uncle, who is my dad, is, to the world, my step-dad. Yeah, this a simple life. On the surface.

Before touch down, I checked on Arthur Denton and found him to be comfortable and thankful. I said good-bye to Marty and thanked him for making the flight less painful than it would have been.

Nana was at the hospital but the morgue would not be accessable for several hours, so I checked into a small private hotel near the hospital. Most hospitals have a house for doctors close by for just such cases.

Vancouver Hospital's hotel house was a Victorian mansion still privately owned by the Langstroths. Miss Emily Langstroth lived there, cosseted by nurses and servants, including the renowned Cordon Bleu chef, Anatole de la Mare.

I was well rested and fed when I arrived at the cold room office. I asked for the paperwork for the formal identification for the coroner.

'Oh, your sister is already in there with those papers, Doctor Carson.'

I was taken aback. 'Oh, I didn't think she was coming.'

'Just through the doors, Doctor.'

I saw through the gun port window a muzzle flash of blond curls. I burst through the doors and she ran immediately into my arms.

'Sharla, I've missed you.' Her body branded me again. She hadn't changed, gained five pounds, perhaps.

'Trey, I knew we would meet. I just knew it.'

As we filled out the paperwork, I noticed the ship back date was later that day.

'Can I get this changed?'

'Next week, Thursday.'

'Nothing in between?'

'No. Airlines don't want to ship bodies because they need a special cryogenic casket. Weighs a bloody ton and costs them money. So they ship on flights which are lightly loaded.'

Sharla melted against me.

'Let's go to my room.'

bedding the girl woman

'I cried for months, Trey. I became a recluse. If Nana hadn't called me every day, I wouldn't have been able to graduate.'

'She called daily? She never told me much about you. She was afraid it would trigger feelings.'

Insightful of Nana.

From the time we were united, we had not let go of each other's hands. Even as me removed our coats, she hung onto me and I onto her. We sat on the bed.

'Nana thought of you as another daughter, Sharla.'

'I called her Nana. Trey, I kept my offer for you.'

'Your virginity?'

She flashed that smile. 'I said it was for you.'

'That was nearly ten years ago.'

'Love is permanent. Ten years is nothing, Trey.' She kissed me sweetly on the lips and we sank into the mattress.

We shed our clothes as natural as lizards shed skin but she resisted the last step.

'Something wrong, Sharla.'

'Something unsaid, Trey.'

'Please?' She shook her curls. I kissed her again. 'I love you, Sharla.'

After, we both cried until we were dry. I looked at my watch. I'd have to shower and get to the airport. Now.

'Don't go, Trey.'

'I can't stay, Sharla. I have hospital visits this next week. I can't stay a week. I can't send Nana home all by herself.' Even then it sounded stupid. Nana was gone. To the Lord. We were just shipping an empty package, really.

Sharla clung to me. 'Let me come with you.'

I shook my head and she cried all the way to the airport. I imagined I could see her pressed up against the glass looking up as I left.

I haven't seen her again. Except in my dreams. If I had known that, I would not have left.

My flight back landed in London where I was met by a funeral car from Needham's which would take Nana to the parlour on Dundas at William Streets, across from Tech High school.

I called Uncle Lou from a pay phone at the entrance to the terminal. 'Nana's at Needham's.'

'How did it go with Sharla?'

'Okay.' My heart wasn't in that answer.

'Okay?'

'Awful actually.'

'Trey, sin always comes back to get you.'

So far Uncle Lou's and Mom's sins had only found Dell. 'Sin found Dad.'

'Don't get cute, Trey.'

'Sorry, Uncle Lou. It happened. Just happened.'

'Is she going to move on? Are you? You made a promise to Cali, Trey.' I didn't respond. 'I know that's the kettle calling the pot black. Doesn't make it less true.'

'Sorry, Uncle Lou. I didn't mean...'

'...to call a spade a spade? Don't apologize for that. I'm a sinner. God knows that and so do I. But even the Devil can point out sin.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Are you over this woman?'

'I think so.'

'You better know so or it will ruin your life.'

'Uncle Lou?'

'What, son?'

'How did you...get along with Aunt Ella and Mom?'

'Ella was an extraordinary person who loved me deeper than any one ever loved me.'

'Including Mom?'

'Trey, just picture the situation reversed.'

'Please deposit twenty-five cents to continue this...'

'I have to go. I love you... Dad.'

'Me, too, son.'

Click, Buzzzzzzzzzzzz.

I rented a car and wrote myself a prescription for some uppers and washed a fistful down my throat with Tim Horton's coffee. The Crown Vic ate the hundred and twenty miles to Hog Town in ninety minutes. Nice night. No cops.

home again home alone

'You should have called. I could have had something ready for you.' Cali took my face in her hands. 'Trey, you look wired.'

'I took some bennies.' Cali gave me a look. 'It was that or sleep in a motel and come back in the morning.'

'Where's Nana?'

'Needham's in London.'

'Your sisters called wondering about funeral plans.'

'I don't have any plans. They can make plans. I can't take any more time off, Cali. I've got a team of people to answer to. I'm sure the world will run a day without another chaos theory equation being proposed. It can survive a day without Work Place Chic, can't it? Why the hell isn't this Mom's job?'

nana's funeral

The family met at Needham's Funeral Home, a big white colonial house between down town and London East, four days after I got home. Cali and I had been distant during that time. I had a heavy work load and Cali had slipped into her monthly depression.

I had spoken with Mom and my sisters briefly. I just didn't want to speak to any one. Mom seemed most prepared.

'Nana lived a good life.'

I thought that was a curious observation. Nana had been abandoned while pregnant, had raised a daughter who got pregnant and handed the responsibility of her kids to their grandmother. 'She deserved better than she got.'

'You kids loved her. That's a lot for one life. Pippin's and Wrennie's kids loved her.'

'Did you love Nana?'

'What?'

'Did. You. Love. Nana?'

'Of course, she was my mother! What kind of kid would I be if I didn't love my mother?'

The service was simple. Captain Jamie Young of the Sally Ann where Nana worshipped, presided. We sang Blessed Assurance, My Anchor Holds, and The Lord's Prayer. I was asked to speak.

'When I was a kid, I was sure Nana loved me more than she loved my sisters, Wren or Pippin, even though, I thought they were more lovable. It seemed to me she devoted more attention to me as a kid. When I went to Western, I lived with her. Nothing that happened during those three years change my mind. In fact, much of what happened cemented my belief that I was her chosen one.

'But after chatting with folks today, I realized that Nana spread her love around and she spread it thick.

'Nana accepted the Lord about twenty years ago, largely the result of the kindness of Alfred and Elva Self who took in our whole family one Christmas after Nana's apartment burned. We had only met Alfred and Elva hours before at a Christmas Eve service and yet when we called they responded as if Jesus Himself were making the request. And scripture tells us He was.

'I'm not surprised to see the Selfs here. Nana stayed in touch with people. I see also girls from her cooking classes. Friends she met at the soup kitchen. School mates from seventy years ago in London, England.

'We all grew in her love.'

Reception

There were about 500 people at the reception. A constant parade of mourners came to speak with the family. All of them had some anecdote about Nana's practical kind of Christianity, a sandwich, a shirt, a hug, a place to stay, a kindness.

I noticed one old but ramrod straight, and vaguely familiar, man hovering at the end of the line, advancing toward me then graciously allowing groups to cut-in line ahead of him. But finally he had to speak or turn away.

'I'm Malcolm Dobbs.' He took my hand and shook it vigorously. 'Your grandfather.'

Yes, he did look like the photo Nana had by her bed. 'Nana called you Dibbs.'

'Dibbs? That's a long, old story.'

'I never knew your real name I guess.'

'Tinker had no reason to speak of me.' He took his handkerchief to staunch the tears. 'I called her Tinker, as in Tinkerbelle?'

I was non-plussed. Long silences flowed in around each eruption of words. 'Did you...'

'...no, I never remarried...'

'...want to meet the rest of the family?'

'Do you think they want to met me? Do you think Madrigal...?'

That was a question. I could not predict what Mom would do. Since marrying Uncle Lou she had been transformed into a hard worker but, emotionally, I couldn't be sure. She still had her moments of disconnectness from the real world.

'My mother is delicate emotionally.'

'My fault. I shouldn't have left the way I did.'

'Why did you leave?'

'I thought I was dying. I'd been gassed in the war and I started coughing up blood. It was a sign.'

'What was it?'

'Consumption. It took five years to get better. I was at the Byron Sanitorium. To be close to Tinker.'

'You should have let her know.'

'I didn't want to her to see me die of the gas. Then I was afraid the consumption would infect her and little Madrigal. even after I was cured. There was talk about that, then.'

'I think the family will want to meet you, Mr Dobbs.' He looked at me sadly but forced a smile. 'May I call you Gramps?

Now the smile was real. 'Yes. Yes, that would be fine.'

Mom and Uncle Lou sat with the girls and their husbands. I caught Uncle Lou's eye and beckoned him to me.

'Uncle...Dad, this is Mom's father, Malcolm Dobbs.'

'Jesus!' Uncle Lou reached for my arm for support. 'Only this morning, Maddy was wishing she had met her dad. So we prayed about it!'

'Gramps, this is my Dad, Lucas Carson.'

As we approached the table, Mom looked up and ran into her Daddy's arms. I can't explain it. Neither could she. Wren thought that she had studied the photo of him so closely as a kid that she saw through the marks of time on his face. Pippin and Cali cried. I guess we all did. And we all laughed, so much that I felt I had to explain to the mourners.

'It would be just like Nana not to waste any thing, leftovers, bits of string, or an occasion where friends come together.' I helped Gramps to his feet. 'This is my grandfather, Malcolm Dobbs, Nana's husband. And yes there is a wonderful and intricate story to explain everything. We are crying with sorrow and joy. And you are all welcome to gather around us and listen in.'

Most everyone gathered round. Mom held onto Gramps hand, and us grandkids surrounded him.

'I'm overwhelmed, really, I don't normally speak in public. I was an accountant in Ipswich, England. I met Tinker at a fair just outside London in 1920. In three months we married and came here to London, Ontario. We lived above a laundry on Richmond Street, across from Victoria Park for a while.' Gramps looked up to me. 'Can I get a drink, Roman?'

Pippin handed her glass of iced Coke to him and he took a deep drink and then loosened his tie. That should have been a sign. Looking back.

'We lived there and then Tinker was with child, early days with my Madrigal. And then I got sick.' He unbuttoned his collar. 'I thought I was going to die but that would have killed Tinker to see that...'

Everyone was weeping. And Gramps slipped forward and onto the floor before any one could help. The mourners wailed. I stepped through the ring and went through the usual check of vital signs.

The story got national coverage: Long estranged husband dies at wife's funeral.

'Rather a sad story.' Knowlton Nash said, peering through his owl spectacles, as he slid into the next story. 'Negotiations to end the major league baseball strike have been broken off.'

more dead to bury

I stopped keeping my diary for about a month after Nana's and Gramp's deaths. I asked for a leave of absence from my duties at the hospital and left the research team with Doctor Evan Caldecott, the great-grandson of Doctor Frederick Banting.

Evan died of a massive brain embolism on vacation in New York City on the 29th of August in 2001 just before my next trip there to finish negotiations with Berkshire Hathaway for a new application of our research. I'm still working up the numbers to show Warren.

Cali did not feel she could stop lecturing at Osgoode.

'It's not fair to the students. This might cost them their academic year.'

I had to agree. But it was clear that Cali was not her old self. We were not our old selves. There was hardly a we anymore.

I couldn't get Sharla out of my head. I replayed our love scene over and over. And it seemed real each time. She had given herself so completely once I had said the words. 'Sharla, I love you.'

Did I say that just to have sex with her? In my defence, I'd never said those words before to get sex. But, men do. Men lie. And women wish to be deceived.

'Dad?' I had come to call Uncle Lou that more and more. 'Can we go fishing? On Yella Crick?'

'Lots of eating size cats there, Trey.'

I landed my plane at Robinson's grass strip about 2 miles from Uncle Lou's farm and borrowed a brand new Royal Enfield bike which Jim had just imported from India.

'No hooliganging with it, Trey.' Jim laughed. 'Or send me a cheque.'

A Royal Enfield was the British Army bike designed in the 1930s and had undergone few changes into the 1980s when tooling was sold to a group in India. Janny toured Nepal on one in 1978.

He sent me a post card of the Himalayas.

NOT FAST BUT THE BIKE WILL RUN ON CRAP FUEL, TREY. ABSOLUTE CRAP FUEL. THE WOMEN IN NEPAL ARE VERY SHY BUT FRIENDLY. IF YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN. KISS CALI FOR ME.

Anything on two wheels is fun to ride, so I was a little let down that the ride was so short. Dad met me at the back door. He was 57 and still fit and vital.

'You look better than you sounded, son.'

'Maybe I just needed a ride.

Mom had made coffee and cake. 'I put the coffee on when you buzzed us, Trey.' Jack, a hundred pound black shepherd, looked up at me and revealed a set of fine predator teeth. He reminded of Recker. 'You really shouldn't be doing that, I bet.'

Mom was right, of course. Dangerous stuff buzzing farm houses. Mom had placed the photo of Gramps on the kitchen wall. She noticed me looking at it. 'I can see it out here. When I'm in bed I'm asleep or...occupied.'

I'm a doctor and I'm blushing. I gave her a hug and she felt surprisingly toned. 'Farm life is good for you.'

'Lou makes me bring in the kindling.'

She poured out the coffee and served cake. 'I used Nana's recipe.'

'How have you been, Mom?'

'You know. Laughing, crying. Keeping busy with the garden and chickens. Nana wouldn't want me falling to pieces. Again.'

'Again?'

'Again, yeah, I meant still. It was perfect that Mom and Dad died that way.'

'Perfect? You had ten minutes with him, your Dad.'

'No, Trey, I grew up believing that he died a hero.'

'And spent the last ten or so thinking he abandoned you as a kid.'

'But at the end of the fairy tale, he went out of love for us, Nana and me.' Mom started to weep. 'It was so perfect and beautiful.'

Dad put his arm around Mom. 'Nice old man, your dad. He left a bunch of things to Maddy. According to a letter we got from a lawyer in Moncton.'

'What kind of things?'

'Stock certificates mostly. The lawyer, Jason Munns, said Malcolm hadmade a lot of investments. Mining stocks and such.'

More entanglements.

Weeks later I read the documents. Gramps had left his money to Nana and Maddy and Dell. Somehow, Gramps had known about the marriage but not about Dell's passing, or at least, he didn't get the paperwork changed.

Gramps had bought 1,000 shares of Bre-X @ 30 cents a share in May of 1988. You all know how that worked out. Dad got Mom to cash out at $2.50 on March 27th, 1997. So all was not lost. Surprisingly, when it was at its peak Mom's stake was worth $280,000, but neither she nor Dad was impressed.

'It's just paper, Trey.'

'Mom, if you sell it, it will be just paper money!'

Most of the other stock certificates were worthless. Since they were bearer certificates, it wasn't clear if Gramps had bought the stock or merely collected worthless stock certificates from bankrupted companies.

'Come on, Trey, you can check this stuff later.'

'I didn't bring any gear, I want to cane pole for cats and not think about nothing.'

'About anything, Trey. Doctors don't speak ungrammatically.'

'Yes, Mom.' I found a tissue in my pocket and I offered it to her. Dad took it and wiped her eyes as if she were a child.

'Ella spent a fortune of those books. And your education.'

'Uh?'

'She spent her egg money to send to Nana to cover expenses.'

'I suppose I should have known. Mom, why didn't you tell me, so I could thank her?'

'You did thank her, Trey. You became a doctor. You know how proud Ella was of you.'

Sometimes, I wish that my family had not made life a jigsaw puzzle. Or a who-dunnit. 'Aunt Ella was a saint.'

Mom teared up. 'I never really thanked her either. Lou, I'm sorry. I should have told her how much I loved her.'

'You gave her a family, Maddy. What more could you give her? It was all Ella wanted.'

Mom took a deep breath. 'When I was a girl, I believed that life would get simpler as I learned more about it! Imagine that.'

Mom helped with morning chores.

Dad and I had done evening chores and it seemed as if I'd never left the place. The livestock were different but the milk pail was the same, the pitchforks hung in the same spot. The shovel had a new handle Dad had fashioned from a hickory sapling he'd cut along Yella Crick. Just as he'd done for 45 years. We worked in silence. Jack sniffed me and walked out toward the house.

Mom helped with morning chores. Jack was always next to her side. Quiet and wary and a complete contrast from Mom who injected a brightness into the barn. She sang and danced and spoke to the cattle and sheep and hogs as if they were people.

I looked at Dad to see if he'd try to enforce the tradition of silence. He caught my drift from my look and just shrugged.

'It pleases Maddy. And the cow gives more milk.'

'Pigs cure their own bacon, too?'

Dad laughed out loud. 'Yep, maple cured.'

That damned dog seemed the only black cloud in my sky. And what had he done but stay close to Mom? Perhaps he was a premonitory hint? Perhaps I was just in need of some down time.

'Don't invite trouble by thinking it, son.' I'd heard that all my life from Uncle Lou, Dad. Crazy man in a plaid shirt who loved my crazy mother who still wore frilly things to do farm chores.

I feel asleep in my old spot by the stove. I insisted on it. Maybe another amazing phenomena would take place like the night of the saucer-sized snowflakes. I dreamed of snowflakes and dancing through the porch light with Sharla who cried out like Mom had and then disappeared in my dream. It wasn't hard to interpret it. I woke up with a melancholy I felt as a teen when I thought I would never be loved by Cali.

fishing on yella crick

I hadn't been fishing on Yella Crick for several years. Dad had been back here hundreds of times each year, usually just to watch the birds or scout deer. In the years following he'd bring Wren's and Pippin's kids during the summers. It was a great regret to me that none of those kids were mine.

Cali and I came back here with Dad's grandkids in 2000. Everyone had a wonderful time swinging bait out into the creek and swinging back a pan-sized catfish. Everyone except Cali, who slipped away. When I noticed her absence, I followed her trail to my deer pit.

'How'd you find me?'

'I've tracked whitetail for 40 years, Cali.'

'Ah, yes, predatory instincts. Am I suitable prey?'

There was an unplayful tone in her voice. So just smiled. 'You look suitable for a lot of things.'

'But not siring a son for you. Or a daughter.'

'Cali, let's not go over this ground again. We have Barrie and Zack.'

Cali nuzzled into me and shuddered. 'I wanted to love you like Aunt Ella loved Lou. But I couldn't, Trey.'

'I never asked you to.'

'But if I offered...?'

That conversation was in the future another twenty years.

We took the Enfield, Dad on back holding a couple of 12 foot cane poles, bucket, and gear bag. We'd dig bait when we got the creek. Despite improper tires and 1930s suspension, the overloaded Enfield handled the trail with aplomb.

'If Janny can handle the Himalayas on one, we can do this, Dad.'

'Janny didn't have a hundred-seventy pound woman riding pillion. One-ten. Tops!'

We dug night crawlers and June bug grubs along the bank. Dad had placed compost here for years just to emend the soil for a bumper crop of fishing worms. Crows liked the spot, too. And for the same reason.

Before duck season, we'd come shoot a few crows to get our shooting eyes back. Crows are much smarter than ducks and nearly as smart as some people. Dedicated crow hunters swear they can count. If they see three hunters enter a blind and only two exit, they steer clear until the third man gives up hope.

Uncle Lou, Dad, taught me never to shoot anything I wasn't going to eat or use. I did shoot some coyotes to protect sheep and chickens and, although I never ate coyote, I skinned them for Aunt Ella to turn into hats. I never ate coyote, but I did eat crow. And not just the figurative kind.

'Crow only tastes like chicken if you've never had pheasant, then it tastes like guinea fowl.' Uncle Lou said.

'And guinea fowl tastes like?' I had to ask, that was our schtick.

'Like crow.'

Uncle Lou skinned the crow and plucked off the breasts, which are dark, dark meat like turkey leg, or jackrabbit. The waste was returned to the crows who gladly ate their kin, but always seemed puzzled that the sumptuous breast meat wasn't on the menu.

Deep fried, beer batter, outdoors. Mmmmm.

The compost emended earth quickly yielded a pint of nightcrawlers. Soft earth you could plunge into like pudding or a feather bed or submission. Nightcrawlers who in their generations had eaten the detritus of the land and left tons of castings.

'Dese soil snakes'll tempt dem cats.'

'Why do you talk like Huck Finn when we go catfishing?'

'Cuz dem suthinners dun no'd dere catfish!'

We rigged the crawlers Romney style, single hook tied on a line, worm hooked through the shoulders, the band near its head. No float, no weight. Swing it out upstream and let it drift. Then swing upstream and drift again. You couldn't sleep under a tree doing this but it beat working.

My first float-by drew a hit but I couldn't set the hook.

'Imagine what's happening under there, Trey. That puppy took you unawares.'

'I'll get him this time.' And I did. He went into the bucket.

'Dang, I wanted to start it.'

My cue. 'How many fish have you caught, Uncle Lou?' We'd done this joke since I was about six. It just seemed natural to call him Uncle Lou, again.

'Well, the next one and two more will make an even three.'

Dead pan. 'I never grow tired of that joke.'

'You'll laugh, later.'

I knew I would. 'I always do, Dad.'

'Why'd you come?'

'We haven't fished for a while.'

Dad drew his lips tight. 'Trouble?'

'Too much going on.'

'With Cali?'

'Cali, work, practice.'

'Is the project going well?'

'I'm begging for funding three nights a week and trying to gather data from fifty hospitals. Then there's the tech end itself, you know improving the product. Some days I get home.'

Dad shook his head. 'You're going to lose her? Does she suspect anything about Sharla?'

I shuddered. 'I'm still waiting. I should tell her.'

'That depends.'

'On what?'

'On whether you want to stay married or not.'

'How did you tell Aunt Ella about Mom?'

'Her idea...' Dad stared out at his line.

'Aunt Ella...?'

He didn't look back at me. 'Yes.' He sniffed.

'That's not likely to be Cali's way.' Another cat hit my line and then Dad's line straightened.

We swung the fish in at the same time. They were identical two-pounders.

'We'll have a good fish fry, today. What about adoption?'

'Cali won't discuss it. She says she will but we never do.'

We fished and small-talked as we filled the bucket. As we headed back to the bike I stopped. 'Cali's allergic to me.'

'Allergic?'

'To my sperm. It's not that uncommon, strangely enough.'

'You'd have a different effect on a different woman?'

'And Cali with a different man. This just came on since we've been trying to have a family. She hurts after. Every time.'

Dad put an arm around me but said nothing. We got on the bike and eased along the trail home.

Jack looked out from the milk shed as we entered the yard. He kept an eye on me.

'He's got the look Recker had.' I watched Jack carefully and kept the bike between me and him.

'Jack's a good dog, but he's your Mom's. He doesn't have anything to do with me. He sleeps by the back door.'

Mom looked out from the milk shed. 'I'm brushing Jenny.'

'I'll get the fish ready.' Dad blew Mom a kiss and she mimed catching it. 'Trey, bring the deep fryer and start a fire in the ring.'

The ring was a split-rim truck wheel. I started a maple fire in it and then went hunting for the deep fryer which I found in the entry with Aunt Ella's canning supplies. The fryer was actually a ten-gallon olive oil tin to which Dad had tack welded a three-eights mild steel plate. That kept it stable and stopped the possibility of hardwood coals burning through the can. It would hang from a re-bar legged tripod by a twenty-inch length of old snow chain. It had a certain rusticity about it.

'Didn't cost me a cent. Found everything, including the tack rod.'

We sat watching the fire burn to coals while Mom made coleslaw and lemonade.

'Mom really seems to be enjoying the work around here.'

'Yeah, she caught on real nice.'

'I'm surprised. Just a bit.'

'Me too, and more than a bit.' Dad lit a cigar. 'I think Ella had this same condition.'

'Condition?'

'...that Cali has.'

'Allergic to...'

Dad cut me off. 'Yep. Sounds like what she went through. Itching and burning.'

'Yes, like a yeast infection.'

'Doctors treated her for that but it never worked. We eventually stopped trying.'

'To have a family?'

'Everything.' Dad stared at the cigars he held in his hands, powerful, yet impotent.

'Everything?'

'After the first year. Every blessed thing.' Dad started to tear up. 'She could have had her own family, if she'd left me. It wasn't fair, Trey.'

I massaged his back and took the cigar from his hand. 'You didn't know, Dad. Science is just figuring it out now.'

'I couldn't leave Ella. I didn't love her enough to leave her.' The tears came in big sobs.

Mom had watched through the summer kitchen window and she hurried out. She slipped under my arm and hugged Dad.

'What is it, Lou?'

'Trey thinks Ella could have had a family if I'd just left her.'

'Mom, I didn't say that.'

'I know you didn't, Trey.' She kissed Dad's cheek. 'Lou, whatever it is, we can talk about it.'

Dad took out his handkerchief and blew his nose. Jack sniffed at Dad's knee and then backed off, sitting about six feet away. He kept watching me. I didn't like it.

'I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Let's have that fish fry.'

Mom kissed him again and started back to the kitchen. 'Trey, I need help.'

I followed her and Jack followed me right into the kitchen.

'He's okay, Jack. Go out and wait. Thank you.'

'What help do you need?'

Mom took my by the elbows. 'What upset Lou?'

'He thinks Aunt Ella was allergic to his...'

'Trey, you're a doctor, spit it out.'

'You're my mother.' I took a deep breath. 'Sperm. His sperm.'

'Where'd he get that idea?' She saw the disappointment in my eyes. 'That's Cali's problem.'

'Dad and I picked the wrong woman as a wife.'

'Poor Ella.' She hugged me. 'Poor you and Cali. What's the cure?'

'New woman. Dad found you.'

'We were very lucky.'

'You and Dad?'

'All of us. You wouldn't be here. All of us were lucky.' Mom sat me down at the table. 'You're not going to divorce Cali, are you? Is that why you came?'

'No. I want to adopt but she's not keen about that. Cali isn't Aunt Ella, Mom. I won't be as lucky as Dad. I came because I need to get over the disappointment. There's no simple solution.'

'Do you still make love to Cali?'

Discussing your sex life with your mother is something no man should ever have to do. 'Not for a while.'

'How long?'

'Mom.' She looked determined. 'Two years.'

'Oh God, Trey.' She put her apron to her face and cried loudly. Jack came back in and sat at her feet and stared at me.

Oh God, is right. I remembered the waves of black despair which overwhelmed me as a teen whenever I thought of Cali. Then, because I would never have her. Now, because I could never leave her.

A car crunched in the drive and Jack growled at me before leaving to bark at the intruders. I looked out and Dad was already shooing Jack back to the kitchen and greeting Doc and Peggy. I cleaned up at the sink and grabbed the bowl of coleslaw and headed out as if the world were a fine and reasonable place.

'Hey, Peg, Doc. You're in time for a fry.' But the look on their faces told me something was wrong.

'Cali had a breakdown, Trey. Come back with us.'

'I flew my plane. Give me a moment to pack.'

'Trey, I'll take the bike back to Jim.'

Mom and I nearly collided in the doorway and Jack growled savagely.

'Hush, Jack.'

'Mom, Cali's ill. I have to fly back.'

I threw my few things into my back pack and hurried out to the car. Everyone was weeping, except Doc, but he was agitated and eager to be on his way. I barely had time to close the rear door, when the Mercedes spun its wheels and shot back down the drive.

'For heaven sakes, don't kill us before we get there, Darling.'

'My plane's at Robinson's field. I need to re-fuel and do a check of things. It'll take me about twenty minutes.'

When we arrived Randy, Jim's son, was fuelling the plane. 'Lou called. Said you were in a hurry.'

Peggy was a very nervous flyer, in light aircraft anyway, so Doc forced a sedative down her before take-off and she drowsed off just over Buxton.

'Calista's taken some barbiturates with gin.'

'On purpose?'

'How the hell can it not be?' Doc took a deep breath. 'Sorry, Trey. I know what the problem is and I know you are frustrated on a lot of levels. Cali told me she would let you leave.'

'Leave. You mean divorce?'

'Yes. She wants you to be satisfied. And have a family.'

'We can adopt.'

'That solves only half the problem.'

My father-in-law knew more about this than I did.

Pearson International is Russian roulette with five chambers loaded, if you are flying a light aircraft, so I landed at Toronto Island. We took the boat back and hailed a cab for the hospital.

Cali was in a private room in a private wing. Doctors and family get excellent and preferential care. In the past, that had rankled but today I was grateful for the hypocritical social system. I didn't need the press sniffing out stories of my private life, too.

We entered the room, a straggle of survivors about to enter the battlefield again. Doc shuddered and had to lean on Peggy, who had revived from her own dose of barbiturates.

'Darling, let's deal with one patient at a time.'

A doctor was reviewing Cali's chart. I introduced myself.

'Doctor Carson, my pleasure, I'm John Milverton, head of psychiatric care.'

'Not accidental then?'

Doctor Milverton shook his head. 'And not the first attempt, I see.'

'Doctor, this is Doctor Cotrelle and his wife, Peggy. My in-laws.'

'I'm sorry to meet you under these circumstances.'

I brushed Cali's forehead. Peggy took Cali's hand. 'Be careful, Peg. The intra...'

Her glare stopped me. 'I didn't cause this mess.' She suddenly started crying loudly.

Doc grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her. 'Peggy, stop this, now. Now!'

Peggy gulped and was silent. But she continued crying.

'I can provide sedatives Doctor Cotrelle, if you concur.'

'Yes, Doctor, I do. Is there another room my wife can use?'

They left me alone with Cali. Another room. Another hospital. But nothing had changed. My beautiful and successful wife was lying in a self-induced coma because she couldn't get pregnant. Not by me anyway.

Cali had lost weight, her collar bones were distinct, her cheek bones were sharp and had given her that look of wickedness and boredom that many of Pippin's model friends wore as sophistication. Even Cali's elegant hands were now disfigured by tubes and adhesive patches anchoring wires to machines.

Sharla had the same long slender hands.

Cali had cut her hair, short like Sharla's. Could she have known that?

'Cali, Cali. It's me, Trey. Cali, wake up. Cali, don't leave. I love you, Cali girl.'

I was awakened by a nurse about two hours later, I guess. She asked if I'd like supper.

'Is my mother-in-law well?'

'You know I can't tell you, Doctor Carson. But she had a sandwich and coffee and smiled when she saw you sleeping here. That was just before I woke you.'

'Thank you, Nurse...' I squinted at her name tag.

'...Susan Nellis, Doctor Carson.'

'I'll go to the cafeteria, I must make some calls. I don't want to disturb Cali.'

'It's no problem to bring it to you and the latest literature as you know recommends talking to coma patients.'

'Thank you, Nurse Nellis.'

Poor Susan Nellis, no good deed goes unpunished.

I called home and Mom answered.

'Is Cali going to be all right?'

'She's still in a... still sleeping, Mom.'

'Trey, I'm not a hothouse flower. She's in a coma. Peggy called about ten minutes ago but she didn't know the prognosis.'

'Prognosis?'

'That's the word, Trey.'

'Mom, you seem like a different woman since you and Dad got married.'

'I am. Now, is Cali going to recover?'

'Physically, yes. Emotionally, almost no one recovers from multiple attempts at suicide.' I shocked myself at how clinical I sounded.

'Oh, Trey, you can't think like that. Lou come here and tell Trey to remain positive.'

She handed the phone to Dad. 'Son, what's the news?'

'Cali's not likely to recover emotionally. She's done this before. Most women survive the attempts but they never stop making them.'

'Dear Lord Jesus.'

'What am I going to do, Dad?'

'You need to bring her home, Trey. That life's killing both of you.'

'How was the fish fry?' Subtle change of topic.

'I froze the fillets. Next time you're down we'll have a fry. Think about coming home, son.'

Come home, take over Doc's practice, maybe even the Cotrelle's house, see Mom and Dad, hunt and fish along Yella Crick. It wasn't going to happen anytime soon.

The heart valve was working and funding was starting to flow in at regular intervals. Although the design was completed, I owed it to the team of researchers to continue to find improvements. I couldn't resign my post because the funding was based on my reputation, even though most of my reputation was based on the work of my team.

When I told Ron Paris, the president of the university, I was taking a month off, he was suddenly struck by panic. He poured himself a shot of Chivas and downed it in a gulp.

'If this gets back to the funders they may tighten the purse strings, Trey, this is big business for us.' He poured another Chivas which disappeared down his professionally shaved neck.

'And important medical research, Ron.' I purposefully tweaked him.

'Of course, that too. Yes, important medical research, mustn't lose sight of the money...and lives involved.' He fell into his five thousand dollar leather chair and held on to his twenty thousand dollar oak desk as if he was a sailor cast adrift on the high seas. 'One month. No more than that, Trey. Please? You have no idea how tough things are out there.'

Out there. The real world as we, the academic and government funded elite, say. It's partly pejorative and partly an acknowledgement that most of us couldn't make out there, in the real world.

Physicians are an exception. We're trained to do something. Something useful. Most of the rest of academicians are simply educated and refined to the point of uselessness. Or to teach their particular nuance or niche to others. President Paris was a doctor in Anglo-Saxon Poetry, which qualified him to do what exactly? Even he had no real answer. Of course, he was promoted to the presidency at the urging of his wife's family who were closely related to the premier of Ontario. Nothing beats honest qualifications, except political connections. At least Ron Paris knew it.

Cali was in the coma for three days. I stayed at the hospital. Pippin stopped by with fresh clothes she'd found in my hotel apartment. She found me in the cafeteria.

'Brother, you must let me shop for clothes for you.'

She hugged me. 'You still smell like chocolate, Pip.'

'Any change?' Marriage and two children had added a few pounds but she was still slender and gorgeous. Every male was leering at her.

I shook my head. 'We really have no clue about these things Pip. We pretend to, but we don't. Cali could wake up in a few minutes or a few months or...'

'Miracles, Brother.'

Pippin had some connection with the ether. And just as Dell had turned up that day a week before Easter, another miracle happened. Cali woke up. About the same time Pippin told me that miracles happen.

'Miracles happen.'

Nurse Nellis rushed up to me. 'Doctor Carson, your wife is awake.'

'Miracles, Brother.' Pippin seemed not to be surprised. 'Miracles do happen.'

bedside manner

Cali was awake but not coherent. A large orderly had her pinned down to stop her thrashing like a bullhead on the bank. Or a chicken with its head cut off. My heart sank. It wasn't the exact miracle I had been praying for.

The orderly tried to glare me off. 'I'm Doctor Carson.' The orderly reacted properly and stowed his attitude. 'I'll take over.'

Orderlies and nurses do not argue with physicians. He backed away slowly releasing Cali's arms as I applied pressure.

'Cali, it's Trey. Cali girl, easy now. Hon, we can work this out. Or we need to sedate you.'

Cali was more coherent than she appeared. She didn't want to be sedated.

'Go. Away.'

Doctor Milverton took over. 'Mrs Carson, Cali, its Doctor Milverton, John Milverton. I need to check you over.'

'Am I dead?'

'Cali, let's not play games.'

Cali turned from Doctor Milverton, her smudged eyes directed to me but not yet focused. 'Sorry...'

A lot of tears flowed that day. Her parents, my parents, Pippin, Nurse Nellis, and me. Cali stopped crying. Doctor Milverton suggested a mild sedative.

'It will give us time to think about a treatment.'

I called home. Mom answered again.

'Is Cali okay?'

'Alive, yes. Mom, she's not going to be well for a long time, I'm afraid. If ever.'

I was wrong again.

New cali

Cali remained hospitalized for a week without much change in her mental well-being. Pippin had tried to cajole her but Cali, though polite, resisted being cheered up. Her parents also met the wall of gloom. As did Mom and Dad.

Wrennie called me. 'Pippie tells me Cali's in bad shape. Will she speak with me?'

'Probably not. But you can try.' I had grown quite depressed also. If it hadn't been for the unfailing optimism of Nurse Susan Nellis, I would have likely been hospitalized, too.

'Doctor Carson, you aren't helping Cali if you get into a blue funk. You must find strength. Do you believe in Jesus?'

'I used to.'

Nurse Nellis, Susan, she preferred Susan, took my hands in hers. 'Come back to Christ and lead Cali back, too.'

'How do I do that, Susan?'

'Pray. Pray that you all come together in these times of trial.'

'James said to regard troubles as joy.'

'Because it brings you closer to God.'

Susan and I prayed right there in the cafeteria under the sceptical eyes of colleagues, patients, and visitors. But when we had finished, I stood up refreshed.

Susan could see the difference. She hugged me.

Wren had come directly to see Cali after hanging up. She asked to see Cali alone. I kissed Wrennie for good luck and wandered down to the cafeteria for another coffee.

'You look despondent, too. Good thing you aren't in psychiatry. You're not much of a selling point, Trey.'

This was before my prayer. As you know, Susan Nellis needed to reach deep into her faith, just after this. And as you know, despite appalling lies levelled against her, she and Jesus prevailed.

After Wren had been with Cali for about an hour, I peeked in the window and was immediately spotted by Wren who had the peripheral vision of a white tail. She waved me in. I was already smiling. Cali flashed me a smile.

Wren regarded me quizzically. 'Cali and I prayed you'd be understanding.'

I had always thought weak-in-the-knees was metaphorical. It isn't. I staggered.

'I just prayed for Jesus to help us all!'

Cali reached for me and I embraced her and Wren and we cried joyful tears.

Wren surprised her academic friends with her devotion to Jesus and her steady church attendance and service. Most regarded her genius in math and her belief in God as a dichotomy.

'Newton believed in Jesus as the Son of God. Are you smarter than he?' Since few were smarter than Wren, many colleagues had to admit to some confusion in their positions. 'I study God's handiwork every day. The very fact that the universe is understandable, reveals there is a Creator.'

Wren did not back down, even from touted, puffed up, in Wren's estimation, intellects like David Suzuki, Richard Dawkins, and Christopher Hitchens. The most viewed segment of the Nature of Things, the CBC science program hosted by David Suzuki, featured Wren and David debating evolution.

The debate was so one-sided, in the public's eye, though not Suzuki's that the Globe&Mail's entertainment columnist wondered if the good Doctor Suzuki would regain consciousness in time for next season.

The London Free Press headlined their story: An intellectual roundhouse to the temporal lobe!

The University of Toronto student rag wrote: Professor Wren Carson hits Canada's Mister Science between the hemispheres!

Even Sports Illustrated got in on it: The Leafs should sign this gal!

David Suzuki never asked for a rematch and to this day maintains he clearly won the argument.

So I suppose Cali never really stood a chance. Not against Jesus and Wren.

'I will adopt a child, Trey. I want to adopt a child, children. I don't want to lose you. I want to be your wife again.'

Wrennie kissed Cali and me and left.

'What on Earth did Wren say?'

'She said I had two choices to stay or leave you. If I stayed, I would have to give you a family.'

'That's it? She just laid it on the line.'

'She also said I must make love to you.'

'I agree.'

'Wren reminded me of the day of Dell's death. She called it a murder, a justified one.'

'Some bedside manner.'

'She reminded me how I took over and saved Pippin and Lou, Dad.'

'That's true. And this all fits how?'

'Wren said, deep down, I was still a formidable woman, and this weak little girl I was showing was an act and not a nice one. And then we prayed and you have Cali back.'

'I'm glad Doc Milverton wasn't privy to this. He would have had Wren tossed out. I think I would have done it, if I had known she was going to use the howitzer technique.'

'Wren said everyone was enabling me.' Cali embraced me. 'Get me out of here, Trey. I want to go home.'

the adoption

'We're concerned you won't have the time to properly care for the children.' The mousey social worker smiled as she levelled the charge.

'Who's we?'

'Pardon?'

'You said we are concerned. Who is that exactly?'

'The agency. The agency is concerned, Mrs Carson. Two professional people. Busy. Kids with paid surrogates. Not ideal.' Miss Beeton seemed to be out on a stroll on a pleasant sunny day.

'I'm resigning my post at the end of term. That should be in your files, Miss Beeton. Is being employed until the adoption is finalized a problem?

'I guess not.' The day was dimming rapidly.

'And when you have children, will you quit work?'

'I can't afford that, Mrs Carson, we don't get paid like lawyers.' Mousey Official looked up shocked by her own impudence. Or perhaps she noticed that day had turned to night.

Cali stared down at her for a good half-minute. 'I would like to read the formal conclusion the agency has made.'

'Formal conclusion?' Darkest night and now she'd stepped in front of heavy traffic.

'Yes, you spoke for the agency. I want to see the written declaration and the signatories thereto. You would be one of them, no doubt.'

'Thereto? Are you talking legal-like?' Poor Miss Beeton was caught in the headlights.

'My wife is a lawyer.' I felt I had to say something, though it was clear Cali needed no help.

'And legal professor. I train lawyers.'

'Well, I was just...really just raising a question for you. I don't think I meant...I didn't mean the agency was...I think...I will approve this immediately, Mrs Carson.' Close call, Miss Beeton, you were about to get convoyed to the pavement.

'That's wonderful, Miss Beeton. I wonder if you would allow me to send a note of approval to your supervisor?'

'Approval? Like that's a good thing. Of course. Yes, please.' All was sun and flowers again.

As we left the office, Cali collapsed into my arms.

'I don't like to do that anymore. That poor girl was scared for her job.'

'I would have been scared for my life.'

'I just want to be a mother. Not a professional intimidater.' She kissed me.

'I think your days of motherhood are soon to begin Cali girl.'

'What if I don't...?'

'Don't what? Don't fall head over heels in love with two little babies? If they were kittens, you wouldn't have to ask!'

'What if I don't know how to be a good mother?'

'We're going to be the best parents we can be, that's all. Bad parenting can't be totally fatal!'

headed home

We had about three months of red tape to finalize the adoption. The silliness of much of it still irritates me. Cali and I looked for a suitable house. Close to the University of Toronto to be readily accessible, far enough from the hubbub to be a comfortable and safe place for kids. It was becoming clear such an Eden didn't exist.

Staying where we were was not an option. 'As happy as we are for you and Mrs Carson, you understand we can't have children as permanent residents.'

I had room service prepare a special dinner of prime rib, lobster, and scallops, dishes so good, I could never make up my mind which to order. The chef chose the wines and sent them up, too. And cherry a la grenadine cheesecake for dessert. It was ready when we arrived back home from house hunting.

Cali was in a quiet mood. I was fearful it might develop into something blacker and destructive. She brightened when she saw the meal.

'Special occasion?'

'I was hoping it would lead to that.'

'Let me get refreshed.'

Cali disappeared and I soon heard the shower. I sampled some scallops and chardonnay, while I waited. I wondered how to approach the subject. How to tell my wife, who had so recently become stable, or more stable, that I was going to turn our world upside down. And should I do this before or after the dessert?

Half an hour later, Cali appeared in a wisp of lingerie and a big towel wrapped like a swami's turban on her head.

'I couldn't wait for my hair to dry.'

'I'm glad you didn't.' I seated her. Noticing she was a little cool to the touch, I cloaked her with my sports jacket. 'You look gorgeous.'

'Thank you. What's on the menu?'

I poured wine as I recited the menu. '...and cheesecake a la grenadine for dessert.'

Cali smiled. 'And cheesecake a la Cali after dessert. If you have room.'

Oh I had room, I just prayed Cali would still be in the mood.

What's that about the best laid plans? I had resolved to broach the subject obliquely at first and only after dessert. On my second mouthful of lobster, I couldn't wait any longer.

'What if we go to Renwick?'

'Go?'

'Move. What if we move to Renwick?'

'Keep talking.'

That was a good sign, I suppose. 'What if we move to Renwick?' Cali gave me the speed up and get to the point look. 'To live and raise the kids.'

'And commute by plane?'

'No, I'd give up the leadership of the team and take over your father's practice. We can come back here when the kids are ready for school.'

'No.'

I was crestfallen. 'No? Definitely no?'

'Hell no.' Cali looked up mischievously. 'I think Renwick would be a wonderful place to raise the kids and I want to home school them. I was wondering when this quest for the holy grail home would lead you to that conclusion.'

'You're okay with me quitting the team?'

'If you are. You've accomplished all you set out to do. What did Ron say?'

'Nothing. I haven't told him.'

'Maybe your concern will be as ill founded as it was for me.'

'In my defence, counsellor, you are a formidable woman. And a gorgeous one.'

Cali furrowed her forehead. 'Is it too late to ask a blessing?'

'Aunt Ella said it's never too late to be grateful.'

We bowed our heads. 'Dear God, we thank you for all of the blessing you have bestowed on us. Not that we have deserved even one of them. We ask for your guidance and we ask that whatever good work we have been able to do, will find a new leader to carry it on. We ask that our decisions honour you. In Jesus name...and thank you for this food...in His precious name. Amen.'

back home 38 13 years of general practice

'Trey, you can't! This will cost us millions. Millions.' President Paris chugged another shot of Chivas. 'Trey, reconsider. I'll pay for the commuute.'

'Okay.'

'Okay? What?'

'Pay for the commute.'

'I'll come one day a week. You pay all my expenses for plane, boat, and car.'

'Boat?'

'From the island. I'm not landing at Pearson.' I mimed spinning the cylinder and blowing my brains out.

Ron shook his head sadly. 'We'll chopper you from Renville...'

'...Renwick.'

'Whatever. Here and back once a week.'

'Write it up and send to Cali.'

'Cali? We'll wind up paying for lunch and dinner, too.'

'Do you want me, or not, Ron?'

'Deal. Can I write in a case of Chivas a month?'

'I don't drink scotch.'

'For me!'

'Make it two cases.'

'Deal.'

Ron, or rather, the Research Fund, wound up paying for lunch and dinner and a stipend of $2000 a week. Cali cut Ron's scotch allowance to four bottles a month. The money allowed me to offer services not covered by Ontario Hospital Insurance Program. I didn't need extra cash. I was still earning dividends from Berkshire Hathaway, paid twice yearly, like clockwork and always for increasing amounts.

It wasn't really this easy. Ron went catatonic for ten minutes the first time I told him I was leaving research and taking over my father-in-laws practice. I loosened his button down collar and Armani tie. When he recovered, he grabbed his current bottle of Chivas and downed a double.

'Trey, you can't be serious. Give this up? All of this?' He spread his arms and spun in his chair.

'This is yours, not mine.'

'Come on, Trey. You're a god here. Privileges at any hospital on the continent. Dinner reservations at the best tables in the best places.'

'Is that going to change?'

'Not right a way. But in two years, people will be squinting. Are you a member? Sorry, Doctor Garson, er Carton, we're full, perhaps next week?'

Ron was a master at story telling and voices.

I stifled a laugh. 'I don't care.'

'And the money. A couple of chickens and a sack of spuds won't pay for the Mercedes.'

'Ron, Renwick is oil capital of Ontario. We got more millionaires per capita than any place in Canada.'

'Four millionaires. You, Cali, and the in-laws.'

'Very droll. Ron.' I poured him another Chivas. 'Think about how we can keep funding and I get to go home.'

Ron swallowed the shot. 'You're supposed to wean me off this, Doctor Carson.' He poured another. 'Home being Renwick.'

'Yes, home being Renwick.' I reached over and took the shot glass from his hand. 'We can make this work.'

'Cali, wants this? She's quitting law cold-turkey? No more going for the jugular?'

'She's quitting for a while. She's leaving her options open.'

'At least she has options. I'm up against a wall, Trey. I can't lose your funding. I mean, if I lose your funding I will have to slink back to Kitchener to teach high school English.'

'Appoint yourself professor of Anglo-Saxon poetry.'

'I haven't read Anglo-Saxon that since I started studying Scotch.'

'Come spend a weekend with us at the Cotrelles.'

'Will we get a chance to see Lou and Maddy?'

'Sure.'

'I want to go squirrel hunting.'

'Ron, have you been drinking?'

'You've been my bartender for half-an-hour!'

'I mean, have you been drinking since breakfast?'

'Chivas is Gaelic for breakfast, Trey.'

'You want to go squirrel hunting?'

'I've never done anything outdoors. My dad was an English teacher. Outdoors to him meant reading under the lilac tree in the backyard. My buddy Dave lent me a copy of Outdoor Life back in 1959 which contained a story about hunting squirrels. Bushytails, the author called them.'

'You are a complicated man, Ron. Okay, we'll go squirrel hunting. But no drinking until after supper. Deal?'

'Deal.' Ron offered his hand. 'Drinking after supper is fine?'

'That and cigars.'

ron and the black squirrels along yella crick

The bush which used to cover Essex and Southern Kent Counties of Southwestern Ontario is the northern limit of the Great Carolinian Forest which covered most of the area from the Carolinas northward between the Mississippi River and the Appalachians. It leaped Lake Erie where it petered out about 50 miles north of the shore. The lack of conifers was noted by the French explorers, the first Europeans to visit, Champlain, Cadillac, and LaSalle.

Dad owned a quarter section of this Carolinian forest, 160 acres, most of it in second and third cut bush. The land was absolutely loaded with game, rabbits, deer, and squirrels, with ducks, pheasants, quail, and doves around the fringes. In the 1990s, wild turkey started showing up, the result of stocking instigated by William Harkness, a member of the Labatt Brewery Rod and Gun Club back in 1973.

The farm is also located at the convergence of the two largest migration paths in the world, the Atlantic and Mississippi Flyways. Millions of birds and Monarch butterflies migrated almost directly over Dad's farm twice yearly.

If Ron wanted wildlife, not too far from civilization, the Carson farm fit the bill.

Dad had met Ron at several U of T functions. They immediately hit it off over sipping whisky and cigars. Ron liked to think of himself as a common man and he loved to hear about real jobs, welding and carpentry and farm chores. And I think he had an eye for Mom, too. Most men did.

'Now I know where Pippin and Wrennie get their looks, Trey. You were adopted.' Ron kissed Mom's hand. Mom wasn't surprised by this nor by the pleasant comments, and neither was Pippin, but Wren looked very pleased. Wren had adopted the severe librarian marm style but in a gown and garnished, as Dad put it, she was quite striking.

I called home. 'Dad, Ron wants to visit for some squirrelling.'

Slight pause on the line. 'Complicated man.'

'That's what I told him. He's never fished or hunted or even gone camping.'

'Ron's always welcome. He'll stay with us. I'll get him out helping with chores.'

'Don't kill him. He's an armchair rustic. And fly-fisherman. His hands are softer than Mom's.'

'When's this shindig planned for?'

'Next week? I need this to seal my deal to come home, Dad.'

'See you Friday. I'll meet you at Jim's. Radio me over Buxton. The buzz-by doesn't give me enough time to get there.'

Dad had bought a ham radio so we could remain in touch when I flew. The radio mast atop the barn reached 103 feet and was visible for 5 miles into the lake. The short wave bands allowed Dad to listen in on the history of the world. Before the internet, radio hams were the equivalent of Facebook.

'They're tearing down the wall!'

'What wall?'

'The Berlin Wall, Trey. They're tearing it down.'

'There's nothing on the news, Uncle Lou.'

'I'm on with Gerhard, he's there. The East Germans are whacking it with pick axes. The West Germans are using backhoes! Aren't you excited?'

'I think someone's pulling your leg, Uncle Lou.'

'Keep watching the TV. Those idiots will get the story soon.'

You know they did.

Early Up and at 'em

'Trey, shouldn't we be starting now?'

'Ron?' I rolled over and checked my watch. 'It's four o'clock.'

'I've read that we need to start early. I couldn't sleep at all.'

I laughed out loud. 'Ron, I was the same way as a boy.' I rolled out of bed. 'I'll fry up some breakfast.'

'Those Amish sausages?'

'Mennonite. Yeah, and fresh eggs.'

The kitchen light switched on. It was Mom.

'Sorry, Maddy. I couldn't sleep.'

I didn't expect a tirade but neither did I expect Mom to kiss his cheek. 'Get some firewood, Ron, and I'll start breakfast. Trey, get a package of sausage from the back kitchen fridge. Pleases and thank yous!'

I pinched myself. No, I wasn't dreaming. 'Yes, ma'm.'

In a minute, Ron staggered through the door with a huge armload of firewood with a very friendly Jack lolly-gagging at his side. He dumped it into the wood-box.

'Maddy, Jack's a friendly dog.' Ron patted the black wolfish skull, causing Jack to grin back to his bone-crushing molars.

'You must have a knack with dogs, Ron. Jack doesn't like anyone but me. Do you, Jacko?' Jack pricked his ears at his name and seemed to nod his head.

'A knack with wolves is more like it.' I handed five pounds of sausage to Mom.

'Is he a squirrel dog?'

'Jack sticks close to Mom. We don't hunt squirrels with dogs though.'

'He looks like a natural hunting dog.'

I smirked. Ron, the urban cowboy, pontificating upon hunting dogs, seemed other worldly. 'Well, stranger things have happened.'

'Like me coming on a squirrel hunt!'

I was thinking, like you not having a triple scotch breakfast at nine in the morning.

Dad got up once the sausage started to sizzle and the smell of coffee had wafted through the house.

'Squirrelling must be in your blood, Ron! No one can sleep before his first hunt. Trey here was up at four on his first time out. Me, too. My old dad said it happened to him, too!'

Mom ladled out the sausage, home fires, and eggs. Ron looked around the table. 'Lou, may I say grace?'

'Sure.'

'God, we all thank you for this food. Amen.' Ron stabbed a sausage and bit off a chunk. 'Oh...I think I've found a new habit.' Jack sat next to Ron and looked up lovingly.

'Eat up, Ron. We have lots more.' Mom beamed, reminding me of Aunt Ella who always watched us with a soft luminous smile as we ate.

'This is like Chivas you can chew.'

'Ron, you do have a poetic touch.'

'I used to, Lou. I gave it up to cultivate the Midas touch.'

'A man should follow his talent and his heart.'

'Yeah.'

Jack was torn between loves but finally stayed with Mom who beckoned him with her melodic voice and a piece of sausage.

'He's never shown the slightest interest in being friendly with anyone else, Ron.'

'I have a way with dogs, Lou.'

Ron grinned like a school boy on a snow day all the way back to our hunting spot. He sat in the bed of the jeep and hung on to the roll bar with one hand and the beloved Cooey in the other. For safety, I held the ammo. You never know how a tyro is going to react with a gun.

'Brought a fella back here just after the war. A fella who knew this place well and had hunted with me since we was kids. He damn near shot me. Twice. War had made him spooky, I guess. It was his last time hunting. His new bride of a wife made give up guns. That's the gun, right there. She handed it over to me as soon as she heard the story. That old Cooey got a heap of stories in it.'

First time I recalled hearing that particular story.

'There's always a lot of tradition involved with hunting and outdoorsy stuff. Lou, I can't thank you enough for this. You, too, Trey.'

'Just bag us a squirrel lunch, Ron. That's thanks enough.'

Dad had gone out a few days ahead scouting for productive spots and had laid out some comfy straw seats and simple brush blinds in three places along the east bank of Yella Crick.

'Peter Hathaway Capstick hunts like this in Africa, Trey. I met him in Florida a few years back.'

'No lion today, I'm afraid.'

Dad got us ensconced in a small grove of iron oak which had a huge mast crop. Ron carried the only gun, the old Cooey ring bolt. He was a fast learner and, to our absolute surprise, a naturally quiet woodsman. Ron sat perfectly still, listening deep, and watching from the corners of his eyes.

In fifteen minutes, the grove woke up with the sound of scratchy squirrels' feet descending the oaks. Ron motioned to indicate a squirrel at the base of a tree about twenty yards away.

Lou whispered. 'I can't make it out, Ron.'

I just shrugged. Ron lined up and pressed off a shot. He gave us a thumbs up.

'Did you hit it?'

Ron nodded as he worked the bolt to extract the shell which he pocketed and he thumbed in another cartridge, closing the chamber but not cocking the firing pin.

'Who's next?'

'Go ahead, it's your hunt.'

Ron cocked the gun, slowly turned to his left and pressed off another shot at a dark spot. 'What's the limit?'

'Five apiece.'

'How many can we take here?' What a natural question for a sportsman to ask! Ron was a puzzle!

'Ten or twelve. They're coming from 200 yards around this place.'

'Did you get that last one?' I was still trying to see into the shadows.

'Yep, two for two!' Ron couldn't have been more confident of gravity.

'Let's pick them up. They won't be back now for another twenty minutes.'

'Right, Lou.' Ron trotted to the kills like a schooled retriever. Two head shots.

'Are you sure you've never hunted before?'

'Never. Never shot a gun either. How am I doing?'

'Perfect.' Dad wiped his finger on the wound of the first squirrel and drew a slash down Ron's cheek.'First blood.'

'I feel like Hemingway.' Ron choked up momentarily.

Ron remained perfect, 15 for 15. He didn't quite believe us when we told him we'd never seen shooting like that, even from old hands.

'I feel the melancholy I've heard you talk about, Trey. It's like leaving your childhood home for the first time to go to your own home.'

We invited Archie's boy, Junior and his kid, Duke, over to help chow down the squirrel. Junior brought his wifey's potato salad and a two'fer of Blue. Junior was completely confounded by Ron's shooting.

'I'm a fair shot. Right, Lou? A damn fair shot. Learnt that from your ole Gramps, Duke. And I never, I say never, had 15 hits on game. In a row? Ron, here's to you.' Junior chugged a beer.

So did Ron. Well, we all did. Jack looked on lovingly.

About ten that night, Ron and Jack went missing. I found them at the picnic table. Ron stretched out looking up at the stars and Jack draped across Ron's belly like a bear hide blanket.

The handle of the Great Dipper was lying high northwest to the band of constellations now.

Jack looked up and growled as I approached.

'Easy, Jacko, Trey's okay. Really, we're hunting buddies.'

Jack flopped his head back onto Ron's belly.

'Enjoy the day?'

'Never had a better one, Trey. Never had a better one. Tell me about the school I saw when we buzzed the house. Is it a high school?'

'Yep. That's my old alma mater.'

'Looked like a nice place.' Ron pointed south. 'A shooting star! I haven't seen one since I was a kid.'

'How could you tell about the school? We scooted over it in a few seconds.'

'It must be a decent place. It's produced three good people that I know of.' He fell silent for several minutes just stroking Jack's goofy grinning head. 'I need a favour.'

'What?' I leaned forward. 'What kind of favour?' Usually, it would involve making an excuse for him being unable to attend a meeting or dinner for fund raising. Just the stuff he stuck me with.

'No, Ron. I'm planning an Algonquin trip.' Perhaps Cali would come this trip.

'The Lieutenant Governor will be there, Hilary Hot cha cha. Creme de la creme!'

'Why don't you go?'

'Laureen thinks I'll spend too much time with the L.T. G.O.V!'

'As if Cali won't think the same thing about me!'

'Cali's more forgiving, Trey. Please?'

He'd adopt a waif-child look and...

Jacko snuffled against Ron and brought me back to the moment. 'What favour?'

'I want to bring Laureen next time.'

'Sure.' I looked up at the sky following his gaze. God did a wonderful job with my home piece of sky.

'I want to bring her next week. I'll be happy to pay Lou and Maddy.'

'Lou won't be happy to accept payment.'

'Oh...perhaps that motel?'

'No. Lou and Maddy would love for you and Laureen to come down. He just wouldn't take a penny for it.'

'Oh, great! Trey, another shooting star!'

'And that motel? Don't mention that to Lou.'

'Some unpleasantness involved?'

'More than some, Ron, a lot more than some unpleasantness.'

Jack raised his head and growled again as if in emphasis.

Dad, Dell, had run off with Mom that Easter and Dad, Uncle Lou had gone to find Mom when she failed to return for supper.

'Give me a head start, Trey.' And I did much to Nana's and Aunt Ella's consternation.

'Trey, you shouldn't have let him go.' But they both looked sheepish. What could I have done? They both hugged me and apologized. Aunt Ella set to praying. Nana made some tea, I think.

I'd heard the doors slamming and truck in the drive and found Uncle Lou marked up in the morning at chores. Twenty years later, hunting geese in Archie's corn field, he told me the whole story, as he lay out on cornstalks laid over a green plastic tarp. We were dry but not really warm. A dozen garbage bags were staked out about twenty yards away, representing a flock of ersatz geese.

It was a raw, breath ghosting day and the small scar over Dad's nose coloured up like a fresh slash.

Dad noticed my line of sight. 'Still not proud of it.'

'That Dell cold cocked you?'

Dad snorted a laugh as he pointed his Remington 870 at some Canadas a few hundred yards away. 'Give a couple of calls.'

I blew a few honks into the sky and the skein of geese turned.

'Dell didn't do this.'

'What? You slipped on the welcome mat?'

The geese had been fooled. They were on final and starting to mush down to join our decoys. At thirty yards they twigged to the trick and we sat up and loosed a volley of shots. Boomboom. Boom. Boom. Three birds fell.

'No. Maddy.' Dad scrambled to his feet to retrieve the birds, which he arranged among the garbage bag decoys, propping them on corn stalks.

I reloaded the guns with number twos. 'Mom? How?'

Dad got comfy on the corn stalk mattress and laid back to watch the sky. Another line of geese was coming across the sky. I sent up the good chow here honk. Three, four, five times. The lead bird turned and brought his buddies with him, just like a Judas goat.

'I saw Dell's station wagon at the Lakeside and I rapped on the door and Dell shouted for me to take a hike. Get ready, Trey.'

'Ready. I'm ready.'

'I'm enjoying my woman. That's what Dell shouted. I'm enjoying my woman.' Boomboomboom. Dad jacked three rounds so quick that I wondered if I'd handed him my 11-87.

I retrieved two birds. 'Nice shooting.'

'I shouted back to Maddy. Are you all right? Maddy. Are you all right?' Dad fell silent.

'And?'

'I'm not proud of this.'

'I know that, Dad. What did you do?'

'Kicked in the door.'

'And Dell hit you.'

'No, I told you. Dell didn't hit me. I grabbed Maddy by the arm and she hit me.'

'And cut you with her fist?'

'With that 38 Dell stuck up your nose.' Dad caressed a goose. 'They look like gods in the sky. On the earth, like this, they just look like dinner. I shouldn't have grabbed your Mom. Not that way.'

Jacko let out a whimper under Ron's loving hand.

'Want a night cap? I think I need one.'

'No, Trey. I think I'll fall asleep sober for once. I want to remember everything as clear as those stars are.'

'Sleep well.' I turned to leave.

'The Cotrelles don't mind me staying here?'

'Nah. Doc spends some time here, too. Lou and Maddy have that magic.'

I left Ron and Jacko on the table. I grabbed a forty-pounder of C.C. and a water glass and sat on my cot next to the woodstove. I poured half a glass of rye and downed most of it in a quaff.

After returning from that goose hunt, I told Cali what Uncle Lou had said about the scar.

'Quite a story. I wonder what Maddy's version is?'

'I don't think Uncle Lou is lying.'

'Neither do I, but each of us seems to have a personal version of the truth. I trained to weed out...'

'...lies?'

'There wouldn't be much left if I weeded out lies, Trey.'

Uncle Lou and I skinned out the geese. It's a ton faster than plucking. We'd freeze the skins if we were going to use feathers for fletching arrows. We picked out the shot and sluiced the carcases in the spring house with icy spring water.

I took the largest of the geese into Cali and Mom. They admired it and our prowess and shooed me out of the kitchen. Uncle Lou and I cleaned the guns in the shop and stayed clear of the women folk for an hour or so. We drank warming Canadian Club rye and smoked a King Edward Churchillian with our feet on the wood stove rail.

Cali was not backwards about being forwards as Nan would say. She asked Mom directly what happened that Easter weekend. She told me Mom's story after the goose dinner, watching the sky, sitting on the same table, Ron and Jacko were to find so inviting years later.

Cali and Mom were preparing the goose, brushing it with lard and laying on bacon in lieu of its natural skin. They prepared a stuffing of whole wheat bread and wild apple sauce and crushed hickory nuts.

'Lou embarrassed Dell. We were still married, Cali. Lou shouldn't have rubbed Dell's nose in his... failure.'

'What did he do?'

'Lou called out, Are you enjoying that woman, Dell? Something like that. Is Maddy enjoying it, too? And Dell just started crying.'

'Why did you go with him, Maddy?'

'Dell and I were married. I was his wife, Cali. He always held out hopes he could.... He thought he could... he would not fail this time. He always had hopes.'

'But... no go?'

'We tried everything.' Cali apparently had raised an eyebrow. 'Don't look at me like that. You flower children haven't invented anything new. Believe me, Dell was damaged beyond arousal.' Mom sighed.

'You don't have to say anymore, Maddy.'

'You might as well know. Dell started crying. He became inconsolable. And then Lou exploded through the door, grabbing Dell by the throat, shaking the life out of him. I thought Lou was killing Dell. I grabbed Dell's gun and shouted and Lou turned and the gun caught him on the nose and went off.'

'Went off?' Cali said she took some time to understand what that meant.

'I was in a play at high school. I memorized all my lines and cues. In the intermission, the male lead, Ray Baker, sneaked a drink to settle his nerves and a few more just to make sure. After my long act two opening speech, he staggered on stage and blew all his lines. My life's been like that. I never seem to be set for what is about to happen.'

'Maddy, you said the gun went off. Went off accidently?'

Mom had shrugged. 'Maybe. I had my finger on the trigger. Lou had no right to humiliate my husband.'

Her husband? Of course, Dell was her husband, but it still seemed shocking that she thought of herself as married. And married to Dell, at that.

'Cali, did you ask about Pippin?' Before the question was out of my mouth I knew she had asked.

'Dell had no right to abuse my children. He had no right to lech over Pippin. Or humiliate Wren or Trey. I would have shot him myself.'

'Why didn't the cops investigate the shooting?'

'I settled things with Ed, the owner.'

'Settled.' Cali had nodded knowingly.

Mom had drawn her lips tight. 'Don't let Lou know you know.'

'Know you know? He knows?'

'Lou knows who I am, Cali, and he has accepted that.' Cali had stared deeply into my eyes at this point. 'Trey, you must never let on that you know any of this. Promise.'

I had promised. I never wanted to think about it again. But, of course, it would never leave me. Why do we expect beautiful women to be simple and harmless? Even after we've learned that ain't so.

church with ron

The aroma of perking coffee and sizzling bacon woke me from a dream of huge snowflakes and me chasing Cali and Sharla. In vain.

'Come on, sleepy head. Time for church.' It was Mom, cheerful in an apron over her dressing gown.

I rolled off the cot with a groan, struggled with my shoes and stumbled to the door.

'Too late. Lou and Ron will have chores done in a few minutes. Besides you look a little under the weather.'

'Too much fried squirrel.'

'Too much rye. You need to limit that, especially since Ron's trying hard to quit. Sit down, Trey. You might as well start with a coffee.'

I was a few sips into a strong black coffee, when Ron and Dad came in. Ron carried a pail of milk.

'Morning, Trey. I milked Jennette.'

'Very impressive, Ron. That's why I slept in. I knew you could do it.'

'And I slopped hogs and fed the ewes, I mean yoes. Local patois, Dr Carson, local patois.'

'Ron's an excellent man around the farm, Trey.'

'Maddy, I'm ready for a country breakfast and then church.'

'Church?'

'It's Sunday, Trey. Country folk go to church. And I spoke with Lou about our deal.'

'Deal?'

'Coming next week? That deal? With Laureen?'

'Oh, good. It's settled then.'

'I'll need you to fill in for me at the Lieutenant Governor's address to the board of directors. Hilary Weston and...'

'...the creme de la creme, I know.'

'You can offer some excuse, Trey.'

'I'll just say you're slopping hogs and squeezing cow teats.'

'Perfect. Perfect. She's such a lovely woman.'

'So Cali has noted.'

Renwick Baptist Church hadn't changed in 125 years, except for the shiplap siding in 1903 to cover the original log-and-mud-chink construction and a coat of white paint every five years since then, except during both World Wars.

The Tulip maples and Iron Oaks which surrounded it had grown larger of course. Some had been cut down in the 1950s to make way for an expanded parking lot in anticipation of increased attendance. But the original lot was never strained. In the 1990s new trees were planted, reclaiming the unused portion of the gravel lot.

'What a beautiful church!' Ron stood before the front doors with his arms stretched before him. 'A perfect chapel.'

'If you keep holding your arms like that, they'll know you aren't a baptist.' I attempted to guide Ron into the church but he wanted to hold the door for Maddy and Lou.

'It's proper, Trey. And I want to meet Pastor Brown!'

The service was typical, lots of hymns and a chastening message and an announcement about a pot luck lunch next week.

'What should I bring?'

'For what?'

'For the pot luck. Trey, did you sleep through the service. Stirring message. I'd forgotten how practical James is. Prayers don't feed the flock.'

'But it helps you find out what to feed the flock.'

'Yes, that's true, very true, Lou.' Ron spun on his heels in a circle. 'Laureen is going to love this place.'

I thought I heard something permanent in that. I should have been listening more closely.

On the flight back to Toronto Island, Ron was quiet most of the way.

'You feeling okay, Ron.'

'A little sad. I wanted to do evening chores and wake up and do morning chores.'

'You need a drink.'

'No, Doctor, I don't need a drink. I need to get back there.'

'Serious?'

'Well, Laureen needs to be convinced.'

'That might take substantial effort.'

'Yeah.' And he fell silent again until we touched down. 'Call me in the morning.'

'I can take you back home, Ron.'

'Laureen's at the cottage until tomorrow. I'm calling to have the chopper to whisk me up there.'

'You're expecting her to give up choppers and Haliburton for Renwick?'

'Time to dust off the poetry, Trey!'

return home

I wasn't sure how Cali would take returning to live in the house of her parents, even though she had agreed to it. I promised major renovations and redecorations but she made few changes beyond the nursery.

Actually establishing a price for the house from Doc and Peggy was a bit more complicated. They turned down our original offer.

'Trey, that's too much. Cali's going to get the place anyway. If she lived in Toronto, she get it free.'

'But, we need to change the deed.'

'I'll ask Joyce to write something up. I'm leaving the Jeep, too. It'll be an honest and tight contract that way.'

Joyce Eaton was the local lawyer and the wife of Doctor David Eaton who took over the local part of my practice. Though Joyce wasn't much bigger than Mom, she was a formidable opponent when it came to law.

'She'd clean house in a lot of Toronto firms.' Cali had told me. 'Bay Streeters would underestimate her and find out reality, too late.'

Joyce worked up a contract for a sale at the appraisal price. We insisted Doc and Peggy take the money and they did and immediately used it to create trust funds for Barrie and Zack.

Barrie and Zack. Where to begin? Barrie was 28 months old and Zack, 9 months, when we finally and officially became their parents.

The paperwork seemed endless and petty, driving even detail minded Cali to distraction and more than a few crying jags. Uncle Lou and Mom were nearly as eager and anxious as we were.

'Cali, any word?'

'No, Maddy. I saw Melinda and Zack though last week.' Cali would start to tear up. 'It's taking so, so long.'

But the day came May 31st 1985, a Friday. At ten o'clock we picked the kids up. I slipped Ms Beeton an envelope with a thousand dollars in it.

'Thank you for your understanding.' I guess I thought the money would prevent any last minute changes. Her eyes popped when she opened the envelope. But she didn't try to give it back.

'Let's scoot before they find another piece of paper for us to sign.' I nodded and we left town as quickly as the law allowed, with our babies, our very own and lovely babies, safely stowed in the best baby seats money could buy. Caliwouldn't let me stop until Kitchener.

I radioed ahead to Uncle Lou. 'We'll be home in three-and-a-half hours.'

'We'll meet you at your place.'

'Good thing you chose to drive, Trey. The weather looks to be developing. Tornado watches have been issued for north of Toronto, up Barrie way.'

'Good thing our Barrie is safe with us. She'll always be safe.' That, of course, was a wish and a prayer, not a promise.

The kids slept until Kitchener when both needed diapering and feeding. Cali was surprisingly adept at both. Most of her mothering was book learning as Uncle Lou said.

'But, we know Cali learns a heckuva lot from a book. She's nearly at Wren's level.'

High praise indeed.

Cali had been living at the Cotrelle Mansion, as it was called, for about two weeks. She had painted the nursery and moved in our clothes. We had not purchased furniture in our nine years of living at the hotel in Toronto. That turned out to be a blessing. I had ridden my Ducati down one weekend following Cali, a few hours after she left and arriving an hour after she did. Cali didn't do the math. I flew the plane down three days before our final move and took the Mercedes 300E 4-matic back. It was the safest car we owned, safer even than a stock model since it had oversize Brembos and six pot calipers all round. Cali was anxious about flying with new babies. Though statistically it was much safer than driving the 401.

Uncle Lou and Mom met us in the drive way. Doc and Peggy rolled up a few minutes later. The kids needed changing and feeding again. There were more hands than jobs and a general gentle pandemonium prevailed.

How to describe my son and daughter? Zack was a miniature Larry Csonka with a shiny bald head and big coal black eyes. He had the lungs of Caruso. He stood at four months and walked at six months.

Barrie was as elegant and beautiful as a summer sky. Cobalt eyes and corn silk coloured hair as thick as mink fur. Angel bow lips. Her perfect little hands and fingers were tipped with nails which looked as if they'd been professionally manicured. Even her cry was melodic.

Cali just read this and left me a note.

Trey, darling, I was the one who usually answered Barrie's melodic cries in the night. I only wish I could...

But I'm racing ahead. Mom stayed that night to help. Uncle Lou went home at chore time. No matter what goes on in the world, stock must be fed and watered.

At six AM the phone rang. It was Doctor Raines, Director of Greater Toronto Hospitals.

'Trey, we need you back here. The tornadoes in Barrie have injured so many people all the hospitals are filled. There's a lot of potential heart patients.'

'I watched the news at ten last night but there wasn't much about Barrie.'

'It was so bad nothing much got out. They were F-four killer tornadoes.'

'I'll fly down now. I'll be there at eight. Send a car to meet me at the island ferry dock.'

I called Jim's boy, Randy and asked him to fuel and warm up the plane. I woke Mom and left told her what was happening. I looked in on an exhausted Cali and kissed my son and daughter and rode out on my Ducati 900SS with my doctor's bag bungeed to the pillion and a small ache in my heart.

To my surprise, Ron met me at the ferry dock.

'We're getting sixty cardiacs.' Being a poet at heart, Ron invented words and cardiacs was a useful shorthand covering anything to do with heart problems.

'And they want quick triage?'

'Yes. You will head all cardiac care in the city.'

I set up at Toronto General ER. Patients were choppered in and I did pre-lim exams while they were still in the helicopter. Non-emergency patients were flown to other hospitals. Serious problems were handled at Toronto by the Cardiac Care Unit which included Doctor Bernardo Scapinelli and Doctor Maria Pzechowski, both to become Order of Canada recipients.

At seven Saturday evening, Ron found me in the ER still treating patients.

'How are things going, Trey?'

'I've learned that the paramedics and doctors triaging in Barrie are doing excellent work. I've only second guessed one patient.'

'Maybe you're losing your touch.' Ron wilified his face, scrunching his eyes to slits and grinning like, like Jacko, but he had made a point: were my skills being downgraded or was para-medic training getting better?

I just chuckled with mock derision at the time but a few weeks later that question was still egging me on to find an answer.

I was in my new office at home, Doc Cotrelle's old office, during a lull. Cindy Hyatt, my receptionist, secretary, general dogsbody, had looked in to tell me nothing was scheduled for the next twenty minutes.

'Take a break, Cindy. Cali has coffee and doughnuts in the kitchen.' Cindy gave me a don't sabotage my diet again look. 'Everything is low-cal!' She laughed politely.

I pushed Ron on speed dial and his secretary, the lovely Jeanne, pronounced very French, answered the phone.

'ello Dr Carson. 'ow my I 'elp you?' Jeanne sounded just like Claudine Longet.

'Hello, Jeanne. Wake up Ron, please.'

Jeanne always laughed her breathy little laugh. 'Dr Trey, Mr Paree is always awake when 'e is 'ere.'

'I just like to hear you laugh.'

'Trey, how are things in paradise? How are the kids?'

'Zack's sleeping for three hours at a stretch. Barrie's sleeping the whole night.'

'The lovely wife?'

'Cali has never been happier.'

Zack would cry out every two hours demanding a change of diapers and a feeding. Though groggy, Cali got up with a smile. She sang and baby-talked the whole time. During the day, Zack and Barrie were within an arm's reach of Cali.

Patients noted Cali's sunny demeanor.

'That's a happy woman you got, Doc.' I cocked my head and heard Cali singing to the kids. 'Nothing wrong with your hearing, Clarence.'

'Now, don't you go telling my woman about my hearing. Nice to hear a happy woman. Thank God for that, Doc.'

'I won't tell your missus you have perfect hearing, Clarence.'

There's nothing nicer than a house full of singing and kids and the smell of baking. Mom had begun to teach Cali how to prepare pies, cakes, and bread. My Mom, my Queen of the May, Mom, teaching my wife, formerly known in Toronto legal circles as the Iron Princess, to bake.

'It's a funny ole world. I would have given long odds on this ever happening, Trey.'

'Me too, Uncle Lou.'

The phone crackled. 'Why'd you call, Trey? Not just to listen to Jeanne laugh, was it?'

'The triage situtaion...'

'You know I was kidding about that, Trey. I don't think you are losing your edge.'

'I know that, Ron, but there is no mechanism in place to tell. You need to appoint a task force. Ask Laureen to entice a patron to raise awareness.'

'Uh...'

'Rough patch, in the field of marital dreams?'

'I'm resigning from the university.'

'When did you do that?'

'Not yet. Next month. I've accepted another job.'

'Oxford, Harvard?'

'Renwick.'

'Renwick College?'

'High school. Renwick High School.'

'My Renwick High School?'

'Yes. I start next term. Laureen is just warming to the idea.'

'Slightly warming to the idea.'

'Very slightly. But she has the cottage and Pop will send the chopper to whisk her to the city once a week.'

'You could be cutting your throat, Ron.'

'Actually, this review team is perfect for Laureen. Something for her to do on the trips back here. I think you may have solved both our problems.'

Cindy rapped on the door. 'Mrs Craig, to see you, Doctor.'

General Practice anywhere is a mixed bag. A doctor must be careful when diagnosing. Much diagnosing is simply observing small signs, muscle tone, texture of skin, colour of eye, odour, sounds of voice, heart, breathing, and their rhythms.

Specialists lose much of their ability to diagnose. Preliminary screening of their patients has been done by another doctor, usually a general practioner.

'The trouble with only having a hammer is that every problem becomes a nail.' Uncle Lou waited for that to sink in.

'So I select my tool after finding the problem.'

'Yes and you don't go looking for a nail.'

Uncle Lou liked to tease out answers. 'Because that's the same as choosing the tool first.'

'Trey, remember we were sure brush wolves were chasing Archie's cattle? So sure we neglected to see the culprit who went with us to chase the brush wolves?'

'Recker.'

'The cattle were telling us that Recker was the problem. We didn't listen because we were focused by our prejudice.'

Diagnosing is about keeping an open mind until the puzzle pieces fit. Since every human is unique in many ways, all possible symptoms for any disease are seldom present in any one person. Often you have gaps in the puzzle and often pieces are left over. Jumping to conclusions can be deadly. Doctoring is a very sobering profession.

Right from the start, Barrie seemed interested in medicine. She would come into the office to find me. Much to Cali's consternation.

'Dad always kept a strict separation between two parts of the house.'

'The examining rooms are separate. Barrie can only get into my personal space.'

'I think it's too dangerous, Trey.'

'The world is dangerous, Cali.' Trite, but appallingly true.

But Cali had her mind made up and so I moved the practice out of the house into Wheatley. We bought and then renovated an old commercial building on Erie Street South, near the four corners as the locals say.

We partnered with another physician, Doctor David Eaton who had recently moved to town to join his wife, lawyer, Joyce Eaton. David had been working in Detroit Mercy ER and probably knew more about gunshot wounds than any doctor in Canada and most any doctor in the USA, too. That probably wouldn't be useful in Wheatley but it proved he was cool under pressure.

'I just want to see a patient who isn't going to die in the next four minutes, Doctor Carson.'

'Can't guarantee that, Doctor Eaton, but most likely it will be colds and sprains and pregnancies.'

I took the new comers and Dr Eaton took over most of Doc Cotrelle's patients. People are sometimes a little hesitant to use a doctor they've grown up with. Some husbands are reluctant to allow wives to be doctored by former high school classmates. And some women are reluctant to be examined by doctors who as teens tried to lure them into the backseats of Fords and Chevs.

Barrie loved the new office. 'Daddy, now I can have your old office at home.' She looked up at me with those blue sky eyes. 'I'm going to be a doctor.'

Zack had to restrained from climbing on every examining table.

'Doc, come get your son. He's on my file cabinets!'

'Time to visit Grampa, Zack.'

Grampa was Dad, of course. Mom was Gramma. Doc and Peggy were Poppa and Peggy.

'Grandma sounds like a disease. And darling, Poppa sounds like the backside of the moon.'

The Cotrelles were loving but distant. Doc sent the kids cards stuffed with money and they showed up for parties and such but tended to keep up an nearly endless trip to somewhere.

It hurt Cali. 'They said they wanted grandchildren. Not adopted grandchildren.'

'Cali, they never said that.'

'They didn't have to.'

Dad had bought a pony, a small 18 year-old miniature Shetland named Rob Roy, who was well-schooled and broke to saddle and shafts.

Robbie, as he became known, was the perfect size for Barrie who was now a stunning little five-year old with natural platinum curls which fell past her shoulders. Robbie was a slender pony not chunky like a normal Shetland. Barrie could mount and straddle him easily.

Dad spent hours with her walking a newly fenced paddock where he school Robbie on the finer points of high stepping obstacles. You couldn't call it jumping but still Barrie had to learn to sit a horse correctly in order to stay in the saddle.

'Grampa, I can go by myself today.' Barrie swung up into the saddle and flashed her smile. I was amazed how much she reminded me of Cali.

'Show me you can take Robbie around the ring without going over any obstacles first.'

'Watch, Daddy.'

With the aplomb of an aristocrat raised in the saddle she directed Robbie around the paddock.

'Should I try her over the obstacles, Trey?'

'You're the trainer. She looks okay to me.'

Dad called her over and checked the girth and bridle. 'That was great, Titch. Now go slow and let Robbie step over the low fences. Remember, lean forward to start then slowly sit up.' Dad kissed her on the nose.

Barrie geed Robbie into motion and once again performed flawlessly. Zack started to struggle, he wanted to ride, too.

Cali was baking when we returned. 'Tell Mommy what you did today, Titch.'

'I rode all by myself!'

'Oh Trey. Isn't that dangerous?'

'If I tried it maybe. But Titch is a natural. A steeplechase jockey! She's like Elizabeth Taylor in National Velvet.'

'I'm going to be a doctor, Daddy.' She had that I-just-know-it look on her beautiful face, just the look I'd seen on Cali's face many times.

I swept up Barrie in my arms. 'You can do both. Win races and be a doctor.'

And I believed it and I still do. Don't let any one tell you that education frees a man of sweet delusions.

Dad worked with Titch every day. I don't know how the name came about. But Barrie loved it and well it sounded cute. By her sixth birthday she was riding the trails along Yella Crick and across Archie's cattle pasture all the way to our homestead.

The first day she showed up took Cali by surprise. I had followed about fifty yards back and had to jog to keep up to Robbie.

Robbie and Titch came into Cali's view about thirty seconds ahead of me. Cali shot me a look. If she'd had a gun, it may well have been--Cali shot me.

'Titch, what a surprise!' Cali was doing her best not to panic but she made sure she got a hand on Barrie's leg in case Robbie inexplicably bolted.

'She's fine, hon. She rode like a pro the whole way.'

'Trey if...'

'I'm a doctor, Cali. Everything was fine.'

'A doctor half-a-mile behind.'

'Fifty yards max.'

Later, after the kids were in bed asleep, after their prayers and the songs and stories and tucking in, I motioned for Cali to sit next to me.

'You need to let Barrie explore the world, Cali.'

'What does that mean? Because I was surprised my six year-old had ridden alone two miles?' Cali got up and walked across the room.

'Cali, you can't protect her from everything. She rides well. Robbie can barely outrun me.'

'It's still a long way to the ground if she loses her balance.'

I didn't want to argue the point. Cali had a knack for finding flaws in arguments and I usually wound up apologizing for my assertions. We continued to spar mildly for several days in a row about Titch's safety, but I continued to take her to Dad's to ride. About two weeks later, Cali showed up at Dad's paddock to watch.

'I've been worried about Titch, Lou.'

'Trey told me but he wanted Titch to carry on. She's a fine little rider, Cali.'

'Not too little?'

'Mommy look! I can make Robbie jump!' Titch gave Robbie a sharp heel and urged him over the two foot fence.

Cali was impressed. 'Oh, Trey, you should have seen Titch. Up and over that jump just like Elizabeth Taylor.'

'Titch has real talent as a rider, Cali. Trey gets puffed up watching her.'

'Can you start Zack?'

'Come spring, Kit will be growed enough.' Every man and some women in the area had nicknames. It was a wonder that Kit wasn't mine. Uncle Lou's real name was Lucas, Archie's real name was Roy, Dell's nickname was Slide, Aunt Ella around town was called Shelly, I think because she sold eggs. Now we had Titch and Kit. Ron Paris been tagged Frenchy, which wasn't very distinctive since everyone in Tilbury was called that by the Renwickers but at least, as Ron said, they didn't call him Gay Paree.

Christmas rolled around. Ron and Laureen were our neighbours on the Cook Farm. Tom Gunner Cook had severed ten acres and Ron built a surprising small and modest three bedroom ranch and a large machine shed where he parked Laureen's BMW and his Silverado half-ton.

Laureen's BMW 540, a downgrade from her 740 she used in Toronto, motored in the parking area formerly used for patients, by our back door, where I was testing Christmas lights I'd hung on a big blue spruce.

I ducked my head to peer into the descending driver's side window. 'Merry Christmas, Frenchy.' Laureen smiled dutifully from the passenger seat. 'And to you, Laureen.'

Laureen got out and came round to me.'Roman.' She called me Roman when displeased. She kissed me on the cheek. And continued into the back kitchen entrance.

'I thought you were heading north? Cottage country. Snow. Cross-country skiing.'

She called back over her mink covered shoulder. 'Frenchy decided against that, at least until after New Year's.'

'Good old Frenchy.'

'Yes, isn't he just.' Laureen always had a certain acerbity to her speech, even when not attempting wittiness. She disappeared into the house.

Ron, Frenchy, was struggling with stuff in the back seat. 'Trey help me in with some presents, will you?'

'You should have brought your pickup.'

'Her highness won't ride in it. Yet.'

'Yet? You mean there's a chance?'

'Reena opined that the colour was pleasant. It's a sign things are thawing.' Frenchy called her Reena, from time-to-time, and the kids picked up on it. So she was Aunt Reena to them.

The Beemer was stuffed with packages, backseat and trunk. 'Did you knock off a Toys-R-Us?'

'Hey, some of this stuff is from Wortner's and Wilson's!'

'Oh! There is a Santa Claus!' I meant it. Wortner's Gun Shop employs the finest gunsmith in three counties and Wilson's camps and stores are the fly fishing cathedrals of Canada, and have been since 1855. Anything from either place would be a fabulous gift for me. For any sportsman.

Ron couldn't keep a secret, business secrets excepted, for more than three hours. We sat around the fireplace with egg nog, Ron's, Shirley Templed, as he put it. He'd gone off booze cold turkey. Ron, Frenchy, Mister Paris, sir, whatever he was called, was a changed man, I had to admit. 'I bought Kit a twenty-two!' Changed, but not completely changed.

Kit was within ear shot apparently because he burst into the room and hopped on Uncle Ron's lap. 'Like Grampa's?'

'What do you think Uncle Ron was talking about, Kit?'

'Daddy!' The look of exasperation made us chuckle. 'A squirrel rifle!'

'Ron, he's too young. He's only four!' Cali raised her perfect eyebrows at me. 'Trey?'

'Ron's kidding.' Reena spoke out of her egg nog glass. 'You are kidding?'

'No, I'll take him out with Trey and Lou. Trey started young.'

'Can I open it now?'

'No, Kit. Christmas is coming.'

'Okay, Mommy.' Kit knew he'd not win that argument. 'Can I have egg nog?'

Boys at four or five started tagging along on small game hunts. That was in the old days. Laws had changed. But who would know if a boy and his dad and gramps and a wonderful, wacky friend did a little shooting?

'Cali, Kit will be with me and Lou and Radisson, here.' Cali settled back in her chair.

'What did you get?'

'A 10/22 Ruger.'

'Wow.' Arguably the finest .22 rifle ever made.

'Wow.' Kit looked up at Ron. 'Wow, Uncle Ron.'

I didn't mention in the presence of Cali that fact that it was an autoloader. Later, I brought that up with the Great White Hunter.

'Sight picture, Trey. That's the key to marksmanship. Jack O'Connor and Colonel Whelan are convinced that's the key. Squeeze the trigger and squeeze it again without taking your eye off the target or the sights.'

O'Connor and Whelan are still considered top notch experts on guns and shooting.

'You've done a lot of reading on the subject.'

'Every night. And I'm building a gun range in the machine shed. The gun's too big for Kit to hunt with now, but he will be able to shoot it from a bench fine. It's got a Williams peep on it.'

Dad and Mom and Titch came over after a few egg nogs. Titch had been baking Christmas goodies with Gramma. Titch ran to Uncle Ron and he lifted and spun her around and deposited her on Aunt Reena's lap.

'Merry Christmas, Aunt Reena.' Titch planted a big kiss on Laureen's very full sensuous lips. She was still a looker. She came from good bloodlines as Archie and Dad would say.

Laureen softened and gave Titch a big hug. 'Merry Christmas, Barrie. I think you are getting too big to be called Titch!'

Of course! Nana called little things, titchy. Dad shook his head when I told him of my revelation. 'If you were confused or ignorant, don't be afraid to ask for help or answers.'

Any way it was hugs and kisses all round.

Wren called from Switzerland from a conference to say that she and hubby were staying on for the holidays at Werner Hürlimann's place in Balsthal Switzerland. Doctor Hürlimann had been visiting professor of mathematics at U of T in 1988 and had formed a fast friendship with Wren and hubby.

'That will be quadratic equations far into the night.' Everyone laughed. Later Wren told us they'd spent Christmas at the hospital visiting the sick in the geriatric wing and singing carols in the hospital chapel.

Pippin, too, was off on a tour of Europe looking for commercial property for the expansion of Workhorse Warehouse into the EU. Hubby Mark called from NYC on his way to Gatwick. 'Expect something by UPS.'

Cali and I were well off by any standard but Pippin and Mark were in a stratosphere of truly wealthy people. It wouldn't surprise me if they sent tickets for a world cruise. Except, when would I have time?

Being a physician is a full time job. All hours of every day. People stop you in town. People flag you down on the road. To show you wounds. To tell you the kids are sniffly. The wife's not right. My husband won't come in to see you, too busy, what do you recommend for...?

Then there's parenting, which has become more and more hands on over the years. No more patting junior on the head and shooing him out to find his own amusements. A child's day must be organized and structured and supervised by adults.

'Doc, your day is next Friday.'

'My day?'

'Yep, Friday.'

'My day for what?'

'To supervise the playgroup after school!'

'I have hospital duties until 7 pm. I don't remember joining this play group. Kit's homeschooled.'

'Yes, we know.' I thought I heard a deprecatory sniff. 'Kit joined. He showed up a couple of times last week. Perhaps feeling he needed some socialization.' It was a deprecatory sniff! 'It's the rules, Doc.'

My kids are socialized, buddy! I took a deep breath. 'I'll ask my wife to fill it this once. Send Kit home if he shows up again.'Another deep breath. 'Please.'

'No women. This is a boys and men only group. You should have come to the exec meeting. Next one's on Tuesday.'

Fortunately, Uncle Ron had filled in, seemed happy and joined the group with Kit. A little more socialization shouldn't hurt, outside a classroom.

I brought a tray of egg nogs and Titch and Gramma's cookies into the group.

'That was Mark calling from JFK. They'll be in Europe until January 5th.'

Dad and Mom were clearly disappointed that Christmas with Wren and Pippin and families would have to wait until the new year. But they bucked up when Titch started to lead the carol singing.

'Let's sing Silent Night.' Titch blew a G on her pitch pipe and led the singing. She didn't need the pitch pipe since she had perfect pitch and perfect memory for music. But she knew others were not similarly blessed.

'Silent night...holy night...'

Laureen, a trained operatic singer with the Toronto Light Opera as an undergrad music major, dabbed her eyes before motioning for Titch to come near. 'What a remarkable voice you have, Barrie.'

'Thank you, Aunt Reena. You have a remarkable voice also.'

'Truly remarkable.' Laureen looked to Cali. 'Is she taking lessons?'

'No, just natural talent. No one around here teaches voice, Laureen.'

'May I? May I teach this glorious little creature? Please?'

'Please!' Titch knew opportunity when it knocked.

So did I. 'Sure. Please.'

Mom looked a little miffed briefly then smiled. 'Thank you, Laureen.'

Titch neck hugged Laureen into near suffocation.

'Easy Titch, honey, you're strangling the teacher!' Dad eased Titch's grip on Laureen.

'I'll make it unanimous.' Cali said, dutifully I thought.

'I can sing! Laaaaaaaa!' Kit wasn't about to get upstaged. He closed his coal black eyes and belted out his version of Frosty the Snowman.

Kit is swarthy and stocky, looking like a well-tanned middle linebacker. Even at age four he was nearly a tall as his sister who was 25 months older and he outweighed her by at least five pounds. He wasn't a singer then and hasn't developed into one since.

Kit loved Titch. The way brothers do. He'd pretend she had cooties for the edification of his buddies, but it was a brave boy who would say, or even agree, that Titch had cooties.

'Trey, that boy of yours would have been a match for me!' High praise from Janny.

ron teaches in renwick

The Wheatley Journal made a big deal of Ron's employment at Renwick Area Secondary School. As a matter of fact, even the Globe&Mail ran a page three story about the University of Toronto president turned rural high school teacher.

Ron shrugged off the celebrity. 'I'm done being famous, Trey. I just want to settle down and teach.'

Ron did more than teach. He quickly became a de facto uncle to Kit and Titch. And Laureen quickly became Aunt Reena. Ron joyfully took the kids everywhere and showered them with attention.

Ron also volunteered to be hockey coach at the high school. There was a lot of skeptism from the high school boys, and me, if truth be told. A lot of sketicism, until Ron put on his skates and ripped off a few cannonading drives as Hockey Night in Canada host, Frank Selke jr would have said.

'Dad, you should have seen Uncle Ron shoot!' Ron had brought Zack back from first try-out practice. Zack jumped out of Ron's truck like a brookie leaping at a Mayfly.

'Shoot what?' I had pulled in after them in our laneway and drove alongside.

'A puck! Bam from the blue line top corner! You couldn't even see it!'

I lowered the opposite window. 'You play hockey, too?'

'It was the only manley thing dad got excited about.'

'Ron, you are turning into a very complex individual.'

'Too bad we never got the L.T.G.O.V. on a hockey rink. She would have been impressed!' Ron is smitten by Hilary Weston. Most men are.

'I believe you are right about that, Frenchy.'

'Dad, Uncle Ron skates like Janny!'

I raised my eyebrows. 'That's the highest of praise around here, Frenchy. Does Laureen know about this talent?'

He shrugged. 'She's not much of a skater.'

'She sure can sing though, Uncle Ron.'

'More high praise!'

Ron lead the team to the county and SWOSSA championships in the first year. From there the team went to the Ontario championships and placed third.

'Next year, the boys will fully understand the headmanning pass and back-checking. We got a real chance to create a dynasty!'

Laureen was more reserved and took longer to fully embrace the buccolic air of Renwick. She appeared to love Zack and Barrie but continued to long for big city excitement and old friends from Toronto.

We were enjoying drinks in our front porch on a June Saturday afternoon, just gazing out at the lake.

'Ron, let's spend next weekend at the cottage with Dave and Bettie.'

'Dave and Bettie who?'

'For heaven sakes, Ron! Your brother-in-law.'

Ron covered quickly. 'I was just asking. It could have been Dave and Bettie from the faculty of English.'

Laureen coloured up. 'Oh, yes, I forgot about them.' She drained her lemonade and gin. 'I thought it was Dave and Beckie.'

Laureen got up to get refills. Ron heaved a sigh. 'It was Dave and Beckie.' He raised his nearly empty glass of pink lemonade in a gesture of a toast.

Laureen returned in a few minutes and with a pitcher of pink lemonade. She refilled my glass and pointedly walked passed Ron's begging hand.

'It was Dave and Beckie, Ron.'

So they spent the next weekend, and several others, at the cottage in Muskoka, a cottage very close to the Cotrelle's place. But gradually they spent more and more time at home in Renwick.

'Don't tell Ron, but it's more relaxing here than at the cottage.'

'We're growing on you, uh, Laureen?'

'Yes, like a wart, Roman.' She laughed. Laureen was a complicated as Ron.

She showed up twice a week to take Titch for singing lessons at her place.

'You can use our piano, Laureen.' Cali had purchased a Yamaha Baby Grande just for lessons.

'Cali, I have had the music room sound-proofed to stop all the clatter. It's the only way to teach voice. Particularly an extraordinary one.'

Titch beamed.

Both Ron and Laureen turned out to be gifted teachers. Laureen soon was busy with voice students of all ages, and she also volunteered to lead the choir at RASS.

Ron quickly established the English program at RASS as the nation's best. He registered the school with the University of Cambridge's pre-college programs. His students scored among the best in the world.

On a squirrel hunt, Ron confided in me. 'I'm becoming famous again! They want me back in Toronto to head a Canadian version of the Cambridge program.'

'Are you tempted?'

'Not in the least, Trey.'

'Laureen?'

'Nope. She'd miss her singers.'

'Talent is a terrible burden.'

'How would you know, Trey?'

He was kidding. Afterall, I had the 12 gauge.

Barrie 8 kidnapped on toronto trip with cali

It made the news, but only the family and the Parises know about the events of June 5th and 6th, 1992. Not even the police know everything.

Understand that I never spoke with the press or TV reporters. We spoke through our lawyer once with police. The radio interview with me was a hoax.

The ransom was reported to be $1 Million. It was actually $3 Million. I paid it. The money was left in a scrub area along a drainage ditch near Pearson airport. Police did not raid a house in Toronto to free hostages. The hostages were released as agreed by the kidnappers when I handed over the money. They hailed a cabby on Eglinton at xxyxxy. Two of the kidnappers were never seen nor heard of again. The brains behind the crime was was killed by police. All of the ransom was returned to Pippin's banker later that Saturday afternoon. I am still unsure who pulled strings for that, Laureen or Pippin.

On Friday, June 4th, 1993, Cali and Titch took time off homeschooling to explore Toronto. President George H W Bush ratified the International Covenant on Civil and Political Rights that day. Holocaust denier David Irving was declared persona non grata by Jews worldwide that day. I don't remember anything about those events.

Cali and Titch planned to visit the ROM, the CN Tower, the Ontario Science Centre, to look in on old friends and walk a couple of newly constructed trails through historic Toronto. They were planning to stay with Pippin.

About seven that morning Kit, who is preternaturally observant, called me to the front window.

'That pickup isn't from around here and it's passed our house three times already.'

I looked out. It was a dark green Ram dually crew-cab with blacked-out windows.

'Those windows aren't legal, Dad.'

It didn't raise any concerns with me. 'Probably birders.'

'Yeah, Dad. With blacked-out windows.'

'They are looking out at the lake. With the window down.'

'Trey, help me load the car.' Cali was calling from the back door.

The pickup pulled away as I left the front room. 'That truck's going, Dad.'

'The loon probably flew down to Beach Bois.' Beach Bois was a thirty yard strand where a wooded area almost reached the lake down a natural draw. On each side the land rose about fifty feet. Water birds could swim into the draw and be protected from overhead predation.

Kit tuned in CHYR radio in Leamington for the ball scores. 'Tanana won last night, Dad. I want to be a lefty pitcher for the Tigers.'

'You're right-handed, Kit.'

'Grampa said he taught you to throw lefty.'

'Get back to your studies, Kit. This isn't a holiday for you.'

'Why does Titch get the day off?'.

'She doesn't go deer hunting. Maybe you'd rather go with Mom?' Terrible parenting.

'Naw.' Kit trudged back to his room to start reading.

The choice wasn't deer hunting or big city culture. Kit gets a lot of both. So does Titch. Although she hasn't hunted, she comes fishing and loves sporting clays at Ron's. Cali and I make sure the kids get their share of theatre and cinema and museums and cathedrals. And if we had neglected it, Wren and Pippin took them everywhere. Titch and Kit has been to Milan and Paris and London with Auntie Pip. Wren takes them to Harvard, Princeton, Yale, Oxford, and Cambridge.

I helped Cali and Titch load the car with endless suitcases. 'How long you girls going for? Will I see you by Christmas?'

'Daddy, a woman needs to be attired properly.' Titch kissed me.

'Yeah, what she said.' Cali kissed me. 'I'll be at Pippin's in about eight hours. We're going to meander along Highway 3 and stop in London to have brunch with Alfred and Elva.'

'Right. Mom's coming over in an hour to mind Kit keeps to his studies.'

We held hands and said a prayer for journey mercies. And away they drove.

Kit called to me as I went to my office.

'Dad, that pickup just went by again. Going east.'

'Maybe following the loon.' A common loon had taken to nesting on East Bay and it was rare enough to attract birders from all over the area.

Mom came over with a few of Aunt Ella's Great Books of the Western World. Mom had given up afternoon TV for two hours of rigorous reading daily.

'Homer was a fictional person, Trey.'

That surprised me though not as much as my mother knowing that fact. 'I didn't know that, Mom.'

'You should have spent more time with these volumes than your Chilton manuals.'

I suppose Mom had a point so I resisted enumerating my intellectual achievements. I wasn't as well read as Wren or even Pippin. Even Pippin. I shouldn't have used that word. Pippin was as educated and brilliant as any of us.

After my rounds at the hospital, I checked with David in Wheatley and he asked me to review a chart of a cardiac patient. He is a careful doctor and very accurate with his diagnoses. I concurred with his judgement and checked in with his wife Joyce to pick up some paperwork concerning my upcoming book, The Mechanical Heart.

At three o'clock, I decided to eat late lunch at the Car Barn, ordering a perch dinner with broasted fries from Lorna, my favourite waitress. I chatted with Barry, the owner, about the upcoming minor soccer awards day.

'How much can I put down for, Trey?'

'What do you need covered?'

'Two hundred and twenty-nine dollars.'

'A specific amount.'

'It's for trophies and medals.'

'I knew I was drawn in here for a reason. I'll cut you a cheque and have Cali drop by tomorrow.' I waved that off. 'She's in Toronto. I'll stop by tomorrow for breakfast.'

It was four o'clock by the time I got home. Calii hadn't called so I called Pippin.

'Hey Pip, just checking on my wife and favourite daughter.'

'Not here, Brother. Cali switched off her cell.'

'Strange.' Cali was obsessive about maintaining contact. Since cell phones had become ubiquitous, her phone was always on. She carried two extra charged batteries and had chargers built into her car. I learned not to carry my phone when afield.

I was still-hunting, which, despite the name, involves very slow stalking along game trails. I had just gotten a look at a very nice deer I had been following for two hours when...RING RING RING.

The buck only had to hear RI.. and he was gone.

'Trey, I thought you'd be hunting.'

'I was.'

'Oh, you should have turned off the phone, dopey.'

'I will next time.'

'Bring home some milk.' And then as an after thought. 'And some steak for supper.'

The Porterhouse was good but it wasn't venison.

I called the Selfs. 'Hi Elva, it's Trey.'

'Oh, Trey, we had a lovely late breakfast with Cali and Barrie.'

'When did they leave?'

'About twelve o'clock. Is there a problem?'

'No. Cali isn't answering her phone, that's all.'

At six Pippin called. 'She's still not answering, Trey.' I was about to suggest we call the police when another call came in. 'Wait, Pippin, it's probably Cali.'

It wasn't.

'Listen, Doc.' The voice was male, muffled, threatening. 'We have the wife and Titch.'

'What? Who are you?'

'No questions. Listen.' In the background I heard Cali reading.

'We are fine and we want you to go along with what we say.'

'Are you all right? Cali? Titch?'

'Just listen. We want three million.'

'I don't have three million.'

'No lies, doc. We know what you have. You get it and wait for a call. No cops unless these females mean nothing to you.'

And he hung up. I called Pippin again. 'Cali and Titch have been kidnapped!'

'Oh God. What do they want?'

'Three million. No cops.'

'Have you got that much?'

'I think so but I can't get it in a few days.'

'We have it, liquid, Brother.'

'Pippin, I can't ask you for that.'

'You didn't ask, Brother. I didn't ask Dad to step into harm's way, either.'

'Mark will go along with this?'

'Yes, but he doesn't need to. I am an independent girl, Brother.'

'He's going to call me again.'

'Tell him you'll co-operate, Brother. Okay? It's just money. Don't let anyone else know.'

'About the money?'

'No, about the situation.'

'I think I should tell Dad. I'll need to take Kit over there. I don't want to have to worry about him.'

'Okay, but Mom can't know about anything. Tell her you have a medical emergency or something. Brother, we will get Cali and Titch back.'

I called home. 'Dad, don't react if Mom is there.'

'Sure, Trey.'

'She's there?'

'Oh, sure.'

'Cali and Titch have been kidnapped. Can you come pick up Kit for the night? Say I have a medical emergency, please?'

'Medical emergency? At the hospital. I'll pick up Kit. I'm coming now.'

'Thanks, Dad.'

I called Kit from his room and told him the fiction, lie was not quite the word, and urged him to pack an overnight bag. 'Is this someone we know?'

'Who?'

'The person in hospital with the emergency? You are really upset. More than usual.'

'Just a wonderful patient. No one you know.' That was a lie but there was no way around it.

When Dad arrived we sent Kit out to wait in the truck.

'Dad, they want three million. Pippin is raising the money. No cops.'

'Bastards. What's next?'

'Wait till they call again.'

'Son, I'll come right back. I'll tell Maddy, you also have a plumbing problem in the barn.'

The bastards called close to ten o'clock.

'Got the money?'

'Are you simple? The banks are closed. You think I keep that kind of money around the house?'

'Don't be an asshole, Doc. When?'

'Tomorrow. In the afternoon.'

'Where?'

'We'll let you know.'

'It will have to be Toronto. Renwick doesn't have that much cash.'

'In twenties.'

'That's 3000 bundles!'

'We got a pickup.'

'We'll I don't.'

'Borrow Lou's pickup.'

'Where in Toronto?'

'I'll let you know when I call again.'

'Do you have my cell number? I'll have to fly down to arrange the cash. What do I tell my banker? That much cash is suspicious.'

'Tell him to mind his own business and the wife and girl will be much happier.'

'Don't hurt them. You'll get the money.'

'Money and no cops. Oh, bring a pair of rubber boots. No sense crapping up your nice shoes with crick mud. See ya.'

I slammed the phone down.

'Son, these guys are local. He said crick mud. He knows that I have a truck. And they have a pickup.'

'Yeah, a green Ram crew-cab dually with illegal blacked-out windows.'

'How do you know that?'

'Kit spotted one passing by the house several times this morning.'

'The drop's somewhere near a crick. Near the 401 most likely. I'm going to borrow Laureen's BMW and drive to Toronto now. You follow in my truck. Forward your calls to your cell. Einstein didn't wait to get your number.'

'He'd ask Cali, wouldn't he?'

'You'd think he wouldn't tell us about his truck or the crick but he did. I'll ask Ron to snoop around about that Ram pickup. Can't be many with real dark windows. The cops may stop him on the way back anyway.'

'No cops until I have Cali and Titch.'

'I've been praying since you call, Trey.'

'Me, too, Dad.'

We drove to Ron's and looked desperate enough that Laureen didn't even ask why Dad need her car.

'I'm driving to Toronto, Laureen.'

'What do you what us to do?' Ron looked very much in control, the university president coming out again.

'Find out who owns a new green Ram. Crew cab, dually, with real dark windows. But no heroics, Ron.'

Ron pushed me into his office. 'Toronto? Cali? Titch? They were kidnapped! Right? I'm right?'

'Ron, you cannot breathe a word.'

'And you think they're local?'

'They knew Lou has a truck and they said crick. And they said they had a truck. They don't know how much three million is...'

'...three million!'

'Hush. And they think I could have raised that amount in cash in a few hours.' I started feeling sick. 'These clowns are going to screw up and hurt Cali and Titch.'

'You must stay calm. When Cali and Titch are released we can send in the cops.' Ron bit his lower lip in thought. 'No, no. If they are local, they can wait and hurt them later. How do they know you have three million?'

'Lucky guess.'

'If it is just a lucky guess, then I say there's three of them. Easy math. High school drop outs.'

Ron gave Dad a cell phone. 'You can keep in touch on the road without being in sight of each other. I'm a bit worried they might know Laureen's car.' Ron lit up. 'We'll drive to Chatham and rent something.'

'God bless you, Ron.' I was beginning to think sloppily. Ron's solution was much better.

Dad and Laureen rode in the Beemer and Ron and I went in Dad's GMC pickup. We stayed connected by phone and had a travelling conference.

'Laureen, please phone ahead for a car. Call Stinky Magrear.'

'Darling, don't call him that.'

'Everyone does. Okay. Call Stingly Magrait and rent a decent highway car. He'll have some at his place in his own driveway.'

Stinky had dropped out of high school in 1928 top sell Ford Motor Company products, cars, truck, and farm equipment. He bought, sold, leased, rented, rebuilt, fixed, and scrapped vehicles until he retired in 2000, age indeterminate.

'I've been in business for 72 years, so I'm a little older than that.'

Stinky had a nice gray LTD and immediately handed Dad the keys, waiving the paperwork.

'Just tell the cop, if you get stopped, that you borrowed it. We'll settle up later, Lou.'

Clearly, Ron had continued to build connections.

Laureen was deeply concerned. 'Cali's had a breakdown?'

I shook my head. 'Kidnapped.'

'Oh God, Trey. And Barrie?'

'Yes.'

Laureen embraced me. 'Trey, my family is very well connected. You only have to ask.'

I went over the plan with her. Pippin had the cash. We'd play it by ear when Cali and Titch were released. Laureen was shaking and teary.

'Police. Police...complicate things at times, Trey.' Laureen raised her eyebrows. 'Sometimes justice is served a la carte.'

Well, the Carsons certainly knew that to be true. I just nodded. Laureen embraced me again and kissed my forehead.

Dad and I kept in constant contact on the road. I sounded fine, I thought, but it was like eavesdropping on someone. I had to resist the urge to scream and pound the steering wheel.

'Keep praying, Trey. God will bring us through this.'

As I prayed I kept seeing Titch. Titch singing. Titch riding Robbie. Titch landing a bluegill on Yella Crick. Titch sitting on my lap and reading from one of Aunt Ella's volumes.

And Cali. Sad and crying. Even if we...

'Trey, son. Get a grip. Do you need to pull over?'

'No, I'm fine. I just...had a doubt.' I'd been crying. 'I'm fine. God's going to work this out.'

'Good boy.'

Dad was always solid when crises hit. He might cry at the prospect of slaughtering livestock, be weepy for the game we killed, and down in the dumpers as he said about the death of a dog, even Recker, he was a monolith of strength and reason when things got tough.

The thing with Dell. The thing, still hard to even write about what happened to Dell that funeral day. It wasn't over that day or his funeral day or the next day or the next. Pippin's composure broke after Dell's funeral because he ruined Aunt Ella's funeral day and remembrance. Aunt Ella was forever entangled with Dell's death and his crudeness and violence.

But one morning, months later, she called me in Toronto. Her voice was as melodic as Mom's. It brightened up a day of fog which rolled off Lake Ontario. 'Brother, I need to come home. Will, Mom accept me?'

Mom had not broken down into histrionics and drama. I had been waiting for the other shoe to drop.

'She loves you, Pippin.'

'She loved Dell, too. And she seemed to just cut him loose. Mom should have been angry, hateful even, for what I did. She just hugged me.'

'The bond of motherhood is stronger than the bond of matrimony or romantic love. In normal people.' I had to add that, as if that strengthened my argument.

Pippin laughed. 'Brother, you are arguing against your own point.' She laughed again. 'But you knew that as soon as you said it.'

'Well, Ms Freud, you must know that Mom loves you from the way she acted that day.'

'Dad, Dell loved me...'

'Dell loved you because you adored him. It wasn't real love. He wanted you as a trinket. Sorry. Pip, men can't see past your beauty. Not easily anyway.'

'Uncle Lou does.'

'Because Uncle Lou acted like a real dad. The man who fed, clothed and housed you.'

'Mom...you think she's okay. Not going to explode or dribble down a crack in the floor?'

'She's living with Uncle Lou and starting to feed chickens. She looks fine, he says.'

'She doesn't call.'

'Call her. I speak with Uncle Lou every week. I speak to Mom. You know she's not much on the phone. Neither is Uncle Lou for that matter. But he's getting better.'

Uncle Lou had called Pippin. She didn't answer, nor call back. Wren and I called, too. Pippin travelled a lot. We couldn't find her. She didn't want to be found.

Uncle Lou called us, all of us.

Did you speak with Pip, Uncle Lou?'

'Pip feels guilty. It was a big step.'

Pip, of course, was guilty and she was afraid that the police would look into the death. That day, Pippin had been cool. So cool, that I, for one, worried about her. That much repression, hardness, Uncle Lou had called it, wasn't healthy.

'I pray Pip softens up, Trey.'

Pip kept in touch. She'd send a post card from Milan, New York, Paris, London, even Toronto. Just a few words.

Sorry, I love all of you.

Thinking about things.

Praying for you.

And, an omininous: Pray for me.

Pippin had moved out of her Toronto apartment. I spoke with the doorman, Lawrence.

'I'm Dr Trey Carson, I looking for my sister, Pippin.' I came with memory inducing, lip-loosening cash in hand.

'You can put that money away, Doc. Miss Carson moved out, but we have no forwarding address. She's got mail piling up here.'

'Any idea where she went?'

'I hope it's some place happy. She lost that smile after her aunt died. You know, I would try looking for her in the Beaches. I ran into her there once. She said it reminded her of home.'

Lawrence's insight was right. I found Pip in a rented cottage at the Beaches. 'Trey, how did you find me?' She kissed my cheek and ushered me in.

'Lawrence, your doorman.' The house was sparsely decorated and furnished.'Are you hiding?'

'I'm scared, Trey. I don't want go to jail. And Uncle Lou, he's in danger if anything happens. If he confesses they won't believe me.'

'You're worried about Uncle Lou?'

'He won't let me take the punishment, Trey.'

'No, he won't. But this thing is closed. There's no reason to open up the case. Accidental death, Pip.'

'No, it wasn't. I can't sleep some nights.'

'Me neither, Pip. I imagine we all have those nights.'

I spoke to Uncle Lou after I'd found Pip. 'Look, Dell was on a suicide mission that day. He couldn't believe he was going to drive away with Maddy and Pip after he stuck that gun in our faces and threatened to kill us? He was out of control, Trey. He'd been getting worse.'

The fog continued to roll off the lake that day.

'I'm in New York, Brother. Meet me at Pearson? Take me home?'

'Sure Pip. When? I need a day's notice.'

'I'll call again. Thanks, Brother.'

Pippin didn't call again for another month. And when she did, she was calling from Mom's arms.

'Trey, let's fuel up before heading into the city. Just in case.' The phone crackled out of the darkness. Somewhere on the passenger seat it glowed faintly like a ghost of swamp gas.

Just in case. We took logging chain in the jeep when we went along Yella Crick, just in case. We took the 12 gauge when we hiked through Archie's corn field, just in case. Each vehicle we owned had a complete set of tools on board, just in case. In his change pocket, Dad carried a pocket knife and a small tin box stuffed with angling gear, just in case.

This just in case wasn't about chancing upon a pheasant or a pool of panfish. It would be more like a situation calling for right tools or a good strong chain.

On a hunch, I felt behind the truck seat as we gassed up. The 12 gauge!

'Just in case.'

'Dad, we could get into trouble.'

'Only if it's loaded.'

'Is it?'

'Of course, an unloaded shotgun is just a second rate club!'

'I won't use it.'

'Unless you have to.'

'Yeah.'

'There you go. Just in case you have to, it's there. Trey, I think these guys just want a quick strike. They are amateurs.'

'Amateurs get nervous.'

'We aren't going to make them nervous. Next call, just reassure the joker that he'll get the money, no problems. There will be no cops. Ever. Just release my family. That's all he needs to know. You want your family.'

'Yeah.' I was picturing a thousand just in case disasters, though.

'We'll call Pippin and then find a hotel.'

'Why not stay with Pippin, Dad?'

'I don't think these jokers know about her. Why not kidnap her kids? She's a ton richer than you and Cali.'

You know, even at that moment, it irritated me that a world class physician earned about 5% of a woman who sold work clothing. Don't get me wrong, I loved Pippin, but her life had an ease I could only dream about. 'Yeah, a ton of money, and trained security. She'd hunt them down like she did...' What was I going to say? Like Dell? I felt as if I were being unravelled. 'Dad, I must get Titch and Cali back.'

We took a room at the Ramada south of 401 on 27. Dad ordered sandwiches and a quart of milk. I wolfed my sandwich down and laid on the bed feeling wired. My cellphone was sweaty from being in my hand since arriving at the hotel.

'Son, put the phone down. You told this clown you'd get money tomorrow.

'Right. Do you think Pippin can get the money?'

'If she can't, no one could. We'll have the money. Tomorrow, we'll have Titch and Cali back.'

I must have drifted off because I came to and saw Dad just rising from his knees. He smiled. 'Ella thought praying on your knees was most effective.'

Dad handed me the Gideon Bible and it fell open at Romans 8:31-39

What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:
"For your sake we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered."

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.

I fell asleep after reading it and slept until Dad nudged me awake at seven. The morning was already bright.

My phone rang, indicating a forwarded call. Dad and I stared at it momentarily.

'Did I wake you, Doc? I thought farm boys were up at the crack of dawn.'

'What do you want?'

'It's what you want, Doc. The wife and kid, right? Right?'

'Yes. What do you want me to do now?'

'Where are you?'

'Highways 401 and 27.'

'Good. When are you meeting the banker?'

'Soon. I don't have the time...'

'Quit screwing around.'

'I'll be meeting him soon. Look, only a few people in any bank can handle this amount of money. It's not a clerk's job. This man is coming from Muskoka.'

'No games.'

'No games. I want my daughter and wife back. That's all. This is all the money I can get but it's yours. Titch and Cali are fine, right?'

'They cried a lot but that little girl of yours ate breakfast, they tell me.'

'Look, I know you just want the good life. Just send them to me and I'll never say anything to anyone.'

'Nice attitude.' He hung up without another word.

'He's keeping clear of Cali and Titch because they know who he is, I'd bet. He said, so they tell me.'

I prayed again and then Pippin called. 'Meet Jackson Doan at One Bay Street at the front door. He's very tall man with a mane of silver hair. He'll take you up. As you show him your driver's license say I'm Brother.'

'Okay, thanks, Pip.'

'Call me when Cali and Titch are okay, Brother.'

'Love you, Pip.'

Jackson Doan handed over $3 million in twenties packed into ten paper towel boxes which were shrink wrapped to a small pallet on a dolley. He asked me to put on a janitor's shirt and a baseball cap with Acme Custodial Services emblazoned on it.

'No sense in getting robbed on the way out to your vehicle.' Mr Jackson Doan looked carefully around the lower parking lot where we about the transfer the boxes to the pickup. 'Mrs Weyerhauser has instructed me to offer you a service.'

'Service?'

'Surveillance by helicopter. Once the money is picked up.'

'You know...'

'No need to say it, sir. Call this number.' He pressed a business card into my hand. 'If you need surveillance. He will also offer other services. But I am not at liberty to tell you what they might be.'

'I think I can guess.'

'My prayers are with you, Doctor.'

As I exited the building, Dad called. 'Okay?'

'Yeah. I'm going to wait in the public lot until I get a call.'

Seventeen finger-tapping, steering-wheel-hammering, prayerful minutes later, my cell rang, again forwarded from my home phone in Renwick.

'Got the money?'

'Yes.'

'Go to the airport.'

'Which one?'

'The airport!!'

'Calm down, there's two of them.'

'The big one.'

'Pearson. Okay.'

'When you turn onto the service road, I'll call and give you further directions.'

I called Dad. 'I think he's at the airport. He said, I'll call when you turn onto the service road.'

'Perhaps we'll get a glimpse of him.'

'Let's not get cute, Dad.'

'No, we know how that works out.'

'Pip has a chopper we can use to watch these bastards.'

'One bastard, the other two are somewhere else. Probably not in the city. Some where in the edge, so they can roll quickly.'

'We need to follow the money because he won't lead us to Titch and Cali. Should I call Pippin's chopper pilot?'

'Sure. If he can follow and not be seen.'

Toronto air was full of helicopters, especially over highways 401 and 400, one helicopter at a distance shouldn't be spotted at least until traffic thinned near Kitchener. By that time, Dad could follow in the rented Crown Vic.

Nearing the airport, I changed my mind. 'Dad let's bring in the cops. As soon as Titch and Cali are released.'

'Sure. But that chopper might as well help them.'

'Call the number now. It will take some time to get airborne.'

The service road had a lot of traffic on it but as soon as I turned onto it, my phone rang.

'Park in the first road on the right.' As I turned onto the narrow road I noticed dual tracks which had run wide on the grass.

I did as I was told and started to change out my shoes and put on my rubber boots.

'No need.' I looked over my shoulder and saw a man in a Jimmy Carter mask and a Mossberg 12 gauge pump with a long magazine. 'Put the boxes behind the truck then leave. When you are clear, I will have the wife call you.'

'But...'

'Keep the pie hole shut. Move, I got a long drive.'

I stacked the boxes as instructed. The man was my height but fifty pounds heavier, long hair and, I think, a beard.

'Now, get the hell out of here.'

I turned the pickup around. I was shaking with rage and fear. I gripped the phone and watched the rear view mirror and as I turned back onto the road, I saw a blacked out window.

I speed-dialed Dad. 'Dad, I think he driving a dark green Ram crew cab dually with blacked out windows.'

Five long minutes later, the phone rang. 'Trey, we're fine. We're fine. I'm in a cab. We're fine.' Cali and Titch were crying. I could hear the cabbie babbling.

'I love you. Come to the airport road. I'm there with Dad's truck.'

I called Dad. 'They are fine. I spoke with Cali. Thank God.'

'The pilot has the truck. It's headed west on 401. This guy ain't too bright. I'm following him.'

The cabbie had some problem finding me. It took an agonizing 45 minutes. Cali called every five minutes on the cabbie's phone. 'Lady, theses are much cost.'

We hugged and cried by the road and I thanked God for my family, ignoring the cabbie's pleas that the meter was running.

'They didn't hurt you? Neither of you?' I did a quick check for bruises, finding only a few marks on their wrists.

'They were almost apologetic, Trey. They tied up with tape at first and fed us only chocolate bars and coke, but they didn't even threaten us.'

'Daddy, I was very scared but I knew Jesus and you would save us. I knew you would catch them.'

I love you Titch. I was so...I prayed, too.' I wouldn't scare her more with the truth.

We squeezed into the truck after I paid the cabbie a hundred bucks. He left happy.

I called Pippin. 'They're safe, Pip.'

'Thank God. The pilot has kept us informed. He can drop a man to serve up justice.'

'Interesting offer, Pip.'

'Let me talk with Cali.'

Cali and Titch cried with Pip. Then Cali called Dad. Dad called Ron. I turned off the highway into Cambridge to find a restaurant, Cali and Titch were hungry. We wound up just grabbing Wendy burgers and eating in the truck, when Cali caught sight of herself in the mirror.

We all crammed onto half the seat. Titch was tight up against me. She hung unto my belt and Cali never took her hand off Titch the whole way back. After the burgers they nodded off into a very unsettled sleep.

Ron called me with interesting news. He spoke with Cali and Titch first and then put Laureen on. Finally he got back to me. 'A green Ram crew cab dually with blacked-out windows had stopped at Jim Robinson's.'

'Did they get a good look?'

'A tall heavyset biker type. He eyeballed an expensive Harley Electro-Glide. Said he'd be back with cash. There were two others in the truck.'

'These guys are cocky. They think they can rip off $3 million and just go home?'

The pilot reported that the Ram had stopped at the service centre near Kitchener. Now Dad was only about 15 minutes behind the money.

'Dad, what are you going to do?'

'Just watch and follow. Like a still-hunt for whitetail.'

Pippin's offer of justice piqued my interest but I wasn't really thinking straight. I had too much of a reputation to risk. And there was still the Dell thing that could take the whole family to jail. No sense in getting cute.

I called Pippin again. 'Not interested in your offer. Can the pilot radio the cops for us?'

'I'll call him now, Brother.'

'Better call Dad, too. He may be hard to pull off the chase, Pip. Thanks.'

The police got to the service centre just before dad showed up. The kidnapper, Rob Applete, was just about to continue his drive to Tilbury when two cruisers blocked his way. He shot a cruiser window out, injuring the officer. The other officer returned fire, hitting Applete at the base of the skull. He died with a bite of Big Mac in his mouth.

None of the money was touched. Applete hadn't even checked the boxes. We could have given him a stack of old newspapers but who could have thought he'd be that stupid. He had been released from Kingston only three months previously. The truck had been stolen in Windsor by a cousin, Dwayne Goff, who was found in a freezer in a cottage on Ocean Boulevard, about a mile from our house. Applete apparently had broken into the cottage even though the door was open. The cottagers, the Melmers, were at the beach, a mere 50 yards from the front door. When they returned from their swim, they noticed the door had been jimmied. They called the police who found nothing missing. When lady of the house began to prepare supper later that afternoon she found car thief Goff in the freezer. Applette was a very complicated and disturbed man.

Rob Applete's miserable life was studied deeply by Doctor Judith Reisman, the researcher whose book Alfred Kinsey: Crimes and Consequences exposed Kinsey as a pervert and a fraud and a criminal of the first water. Applete was born with all the advantages of a loving and productive home but he turned to pornography early in life and then to petty crime, major theft, prison time for rape, and finally murder and kidnapping. Applete's brother became an insurance salesman and raised three children who became model citizens. Dr Reisman concluded that Applete had just chosen crime because he was a lazy misfit with some sexual disfunction or abnormality.

His accomplices were never found but things worked out though things changed. Cali had electric locks installed on the kids rooms. We could lock or unlock the rooms from our bedroom. The kids could unlock the doors from inside their rooms. A full alarm system was installed on windows and exterior doors and motion sensors watched the lane and parking lot.

Mom came over a lot after the situation. She walked the two miles along Yella Crick and across the old Coatsworth field, which was rapidly turning wild since Archie's cattle had been fenced out when Merle Coatsworth finally sold the farm to Doc Cotrelle.

Mom was 61 but didn't look 40. Her hair was still lustrous and naturally auburn. And she still had her figure. The regular four or five miles of walking daily only accentuated her shapeliness.

Mom helped with the homeschooling. She had developed a love of the Great Works of the Western World and was determined that her grandkids learn to love them, too. As determined as Aunt Ella had been that Lou's kids love them.

The kids played organized minor league sports, softball, soccer, and hockey for Kit and figure skating for Barrie. Every Saturday during the year seemed to offer an athletic event for Barrie and Kit. Mom and Dad would show up just after the kid's breakfast. In good weather they walked along Yella Crick. Dad liked to drive the Mercedes as much as he enjoyed the walk.

Saturday, June 12, 1993, Dad and Mom showed up regular time. Both kids wanted to play. Titch had weathered the kidnapping as well as could be expected. She'd been a little clingy at first but realized that the bad man was dead and wasn't going to hurt her or her mother again. First soccer game was at eight. Kit would play at nine and Titch at ten. Cali had been silent through breakfast.

'Feeling ill, Cali girl?' I had been surreptitiously monitoring her health so as not to alarm her. She only had minor signs of stress.

She seemed to come out of a dream. 'Uh?'

'Are you feeling well?'

'I feel okay.'

I spotted Mom and Dad coming up the small rise near the back of the house. 'Dad's wearing his soccer shirt.'

Dad had Mom iron on a Wheatley Area Minor Soccer decal onto a blue t-shirt.

Kit ran to meet Gramma and Gramps and Titch scooted to get her soccer shoes.

Cali hadn't moved from her spot at the table. She was staring into her coffee cup which she held in both hands. Something was wrong.

Mom and Dad and Kit came in the back door.

Cali looked up. 'The kids aren't playing today.'

'Sure they are! It's quarter finals. I wore my lucky shirt, Cali.'

Cali stood up and leaned on her hands as if making a summation. 'Kit go to your room.' He looked about to protest. 'Now!'

'Cali, what's the problem?' Never ask that question.

'What's the problem? Titch and I get kidnapped by a psychopath and you ask what's wrong.'

Mom and Dad start backing out the door. 'No, don't go.' I turned back to Cali. 'That jerk is dead. All four of us are going to be right there with the kids. Titch and Kit want to go. They're not worried.'

'No. They can't go.'

Mechanics assess the condition of every vehicle they drive or ride in. It's a professional habit. Doctors do the same with people. Cali had shown symptoms of post traumatic stress disorder; fitful sleep, loss of appetite, weepiness, momentary detachments from the present --almost like daydreaming-- and a need to check on the kids. But I thought it was fairly contained. Doctor Eaton had told me to keep a sharp on her because it can take a week or even month for the shock to take hold.

Doctor Eaton was right.

'Hon, we're going to be with the kids.' Mom reached to caress Cali's hair but Cali ducked.

'They can't go.' She sounded like a loop of tape. 'They can't go.'

Dad nodded for a confab on the porch. 'Dell was like this for a while. Didn't want to go anywhere.'

'What did you do?'

'Took him any way.'

'You think we should just take her along?'

'Hell, no, son, look what happened to Dell.'

I never understood what love was until I held Titch and Kit for the first time as their adopted dad. I was overwhelmed by the idea that these two little creatures now owned my life. It shook me to know that I would die to spare them pain or death. Dad had told me this. But I'd never quite believed it.

'First time I saw you, I knew I'd never be a good soldier again.'

'I don't understand.'

'I sure wasn't going to risk my life for anything except my wife and kids.'

'I wonder what Dell felt.'

'He must have deluded himself, Trey.'

'Did you delude yourself?'

'A bit, I suppose. I never knew Dell was...'

'Mom never told you?'

'Not for a long time, Trey.'

'Zack and Barrie seem to be part of me. That's strange to me. I mean they're not blood or anything. I was a little worried about a certain detachment.'

'It's the responsibility. The knowledge those little critters rely on you.'

'Like livestock.'

Cali stared at us blankly. 'It's too dangerous.'

Kit and Titch had returned to the kitchen.

'What's too dangerous?'

'Nothing, Titch.'

'No, not nothing. Don't tell her that.'

'Soccer isn't dangerous.' Titch nuzzled into Cali. 'Mommy, Daddy will be there to look after us. And Grampa.'

'And Gramma.' Zack grabbed Gramma's hand and tugged her toward the door. 'Coach wants us to be early.'

'Cali, the kids want to go.' Dad shot me a look. 'Okay, we'll stay home.' Cali looked up puzzled. 'Kit, Titch, put your stuff away.'

'Daddy!'

'Now.'

Titch was near tears as she turned to go.

Kit stood his ground. 'Coach said everyone is important.'

Cali sneered. 'What does that mean, Kit?'

'That everyone has to be there.'

Titch was crying in the hall just outside her room.

I massaged Cali's back and leaned in close to her. 'We can't let fear control our kids, Cali.'

Mom had taken Kit with her down the hall to comfort Titch. 'Second Corinthians 12 verses 7 to 10.' Her voice came out of the doorway.

'When I am weak, I am strong. That's what Paul said. Jesus was his strength.' Dad's memory of Bible verses was nearly perfect.

'I couldn't stop them, Trey.'

Cali's recollection always began with that phrase, I couldn't stop them. 'I couldn't stop them. The pickup stopped short in front of me and the car stopped tight behind us. They smashed the windows and pulled us out and into their car. It was a black police car with a cage. They put us in a cage.'

No matter where the story started. It started the same way.

'I couldn't stop them. They taped our mouths and blindfolded us. They stank of cigarettes and beer. I was trying to scream, Don't hurt my daughter. Don't hurt Titch.'

'I couldn't stop them, Trey.'

I held her close to me. 'All of us could stop them. They are gone now, Cali. We can't traumatize the kids with this.'

Cali stayed in the car with Mom and Titch to watch Kit's game. Dad and I stayed on opposite sides of the field. By the time Titch's game was ready to start Cali ventured out of the car and leaned against the hood to watch the game. Kit stayed close to her. He'd salvaged a slightly bent aluminium baseball bat from a trash can and he clutched it and looked dangerous. I debated taking it from him but Dad cautioned me.

'He's not concentrating on his own safety right now because he feels strong.'

Both kid's teams won by one late goal.

'See Mommy. The team needed everyone. Just like Coach said.'

Late that night in bed Cali was weepy again.

'What's wrong, Cali?'

'I don't jangle you anymore, do I?'

'Sure you do.'

'No. If I did you couldn't have talked me into letting the kids play soccer today. You talked me into that because you love the kids.'

'And you.'

'Yes. But I don't jangle you anymore, Trey.'

I guess I had to grow out of it sometime in life. I was nearly 45, so I suppose I was due. Too bad.

intimacy of the small town

People who live in small towns accept a level of intimacy which is not approachable in modern cities. That's not to say that folks in large cities are not neighbourly. Wren and Pippin have great neighbours who visit and help with the kids. The neighbours are bit beyond the need to borrow a cup of sugar but one night Pippin's neighbour asked to borrow a crate of champagne. It seems that some nitwit on the catering staff forgot to buy enough bubbly.

Rural folk rely on neighbours to help tend stock if there's a sickness or injury in the house. If I doctor a farmer for broken limbs or serious illness, Cindy knows enough to alert the farmer's neighbours, so they can plan their schedules to make time for extra chores.

My patients ask about Cali and Kit and Titch, by name if they are personal friends. If the patient is a female and not a personal friend she'll say, How is your wife and children? Invariably a man will say, How's the wife and kids? In city practice that isn't at all common.

Not a week goes by in a small town that someone doesn't flag you down on the road or beckon you from across the street. That doesn't happen in a big city unless it's a hopeful mugger. When I was falgged down as a teen, the message was usually for Uncle Lou.

'I need a gravity wagon welded. Can you tell Lou?'

Frequently, Harry at the hardware would wave me to a stop. 'I have some parts for Lou. How's your Mom?'

Picking up feed at the mill, Grant would tell me he heard that Uncle Lou and I had caught a mess of perch off Eagle Tree Beach.

'About twenty. A nice catch.' But hardly a mess of perch.

Once I caught an 8 pound pickerel sow.

'Wiz told me you caught a 10 pound pickerel the other day.'

'Eight pounds, Grant.'

'He said 12 pounds actually. You know how Wiz weighs things.'

'He would have been a rich butcher.'

No need for identification at the bank or a card at the library. The clerks knew your number or where your card was.

'Your card's in your wife's blue purse.' Tom the Sunoco station owner waved me off the lot. 'Catch you next time, Doc.'

Sometimes intimacy is uncomfortable. The Cadogan brothers, nicknamed Stan and Ollie by some older folk in the area, were oddly formed and low-grade mentally. They had a mean streak in them which few people of low intelligence exhibit. Not at all surprising given their circumstances, the word before home enviroment took over.

The brothers, Harley and Kevin, were three years older than Janny and me but were a grade behind us. Neither one could spell their first name. Harley almost always spelled his name Harely, and Kevin's best try was Kevy. Of course, these acorns did not fall far from the parental trees.

'Hey, kid, I heard your uncle screws your mother when you're at school.'

I'm sure I had an answer to give him but Janny lept into the fray. 'Yes and his dog screws your mother.'

I'd started running as soon as Janny opened his mouth but he soon caught me. 'Slow down, Trey, just stay out of their reach until they get tired.'

Harley, Harely, Ollie, whatever you called him, was pasty and fat and out of breath in twenty yards. His string bean brother was in no better shape. In a few minutes they could barely walk much less run. Janny taunted them running close and ducking under their grabbing hands.

'I've seen your mother. It's a good thing Lou's dog is blind.' That was a little too much for Kevy who raged red-faced and threw his windbreaker at Janny, tripping him. With surprising speed, Kevy sprang at Janny, flying through the air like a long spit of tabaccy. But Janny flipped to his back and met Kevy, more precisely met Kevy's gut, with a boot shod foot at the end of a stiff leg.

Kevy cartwheeled through the air, knocking over Harely and landing on top of him. And then he puked up this morning's breakfast. And last night's supper. All over his brother.

Janny bounced up, with only a few scrapes on his palms. 'And keep your mother away from Trey's dog!'

Uncle Lou discouraged fist fighting though he taught me how to block a punch and how to throw one. 'Fight only in self-defence or the defence of someone weaker.'

I told Uncle Lou about the incident with Harley and Kevin. He laughed a bit before getting serious.

'Janny is going to tagged for being cute. There's always someone a little faster, stronger, or cuter.' But he laughed again. 'I always thought those Cadogans looked like hermaphrodites, like their old man. I'm surprised they looked for trouble. What did they say to you?'

'Just stupid stuff. About Walter.'

'Criticizing a man's dog is a serious thing!' Uncle Lou patted me on the back. 'But not enough to fight. Pick your battles, son. There'll be enough opportunities to fight.'

This incident earned both of us the enmity of the Cadogie (their Mom's spelling)brothers for the next several years. But they knew they were no match for Janny in a fight. Few people were. They never taunted Janny or me again, but we had our bike tires flattened about a month after this. Janny and I beat them both up this time. Very unceremoniously tackling them after school on the asphalt and thumping them until they cried. From that day on, we had no more trouble. However, both brothers continued to give us very dark looks.

I found only one honourable opportunity for fisticuffs. The first day of summer holidays after grade ten, I had gone into Leamington on my bicycle. I had no real plans beyond riding out on the dock and stretching out on the sand at Seacliff Beach.

I left directly after chores, getting away at about 7:10. It was nearly 20 miles from the farm to the dock and the ride took me a good hour-and-a-half. I was thirsty so I waited under a tree in the parking lot the Dairy Queen on Erie Street until the store opened. I bought a large Blizzard and finished it under the tree. Then I cycled to the dock. It was a long downhill glide to the dock, requiring no peddling nor stopping since I hit a green light at Highway 18.

The ferry was pulling in from Pelee Island. I watched it discharge a few farmers with pickups and take on a few tourists with station wagons and camping gear. I cycled off the dock past Burgess Ice Cream stand and Caspar's Restaurant turning left and up THE ROAD to Seacliff Park. It was easier to ride to the beach from the edge of the park and I could stretch out under a tree and laze in as much sun as I wished since the shade from the stand of black poplars was available all day, even at noon.

I guess I was hoping to catch a glimpse of some girls in bathing suits but the beach was deserted except for a few older folks with their dogs. A small flock of lady birders scurried point to point along the beach, peering out into the water at something well beyond the range of natural eyesight. I dozed off.

I came to suddenly. I heard a soft cry of pain and scuffling noises. I rolled over and saw two kids my age working over an older man. Without thinking I rushed them. I flattened one from the back with an elbow in his kidneys and hit the other attacker with a straight left, thrown from the basement as Uncle Lou characterized a punch which started properly from the legs. The punch whipsawed his head and fell unconscious. His fellow attacker had now found his feet and started toward me but saw his friend motionless and bleeding on the concrete before the changing rooms and ran off cursing that he bring more friends to kick my ass. They never showed up.

The victim was gathering up a wallet and a necklace from the ground. 'Thanks.' He was about 70 years old I would guess, silver hair but with thick black eyebrows which nearly met over an aquiline nose. 'We better call for help for this man. He looks bad. I'm Father Nick Ricci.'

'Trey Carson, Father.'

As he shook my hand he noticed the scar on my forearm. 'You've seen some trouble before.' He replace his crucifix and then bent over the still motionless attacker.

'Yes, Father, my uncle's dog.' I looked at my knockout. I had broken the kid's jaw. Only he wasn't a kid, he looked about 30 years-old, now that I saw him upclose.

'A man and his son. I know them. They live in my parish. Can you run to the fire station just west of here on Seacliff Drive?' He pointed up the hill.

'I have a bike. I'll get help.' I actually said it that way. Sounded like something out of Lassie.

'Go, son. This man is slipping into shock.'

The fire station housed paramedics and an ambulance which set up immediately, immediately once I told them that Father Ricci sent me.

'Hey come quick. A man is unconscious at the change house.'

'How'd he become unconscious?'

'I hit him.'

'Why'd you do that, kid?'

'He was mugging Father Ricci.'

'Father Ricci! He's okay?'

'No, he's bleeding and unconscious. Oh, Father Ricci is fine, maybe a little scuffed up. Father Ricci sent me.'

The paramedics brought the man back to consciousness with smelling salts. The police had arrived and the man heard Father Ricci's account of the mugging as the paramedics examined my hands.

'One hand of iron and the other of steel, eh?'

Father Ricci also explained how I'd saved him from a mugging. He didn't mention the younger attacker, the man's son.

'Father, why didn't you tell the police about the son?'

'They didn't ask. I know that it may have been stretching the truth but what good can come of more problems for the family?'

'Shouldn't he be punished?'

'Oh, he will be, Trey. I'm going to his home to heap coals of forgiveness on his head.' Father Ricci smiled.

Uncle Lou was proud of me. 'A broken jaw! Lord, Lord, that was some punch!'

Aunt Ella checked my hands. 'Lou, don't encourage him to...'

'...to protect the weak? the halt? the lame?'

'Don't go overboard Lucas Carson.' Aunt Ella kissed my cheek. 'You are a brave lad, Trey.'

Uncle Lou beckoning finger had called me into the milk house. 'Mr Moffat phoned your mother.'

'Yes, sir.'

'Why'd he call?'

'Because Janny and I beat up the Cadogans.' Uncle Lou gave me his incomplete story look. 'Because they flattened our bike tires.'

'And this all started because they said something about Walter?'

'No, they said something about Mom.'

'Such as?'

'And you.'

'Mr Moffat seemed to think it was something visceral. Wren must be teaching him during recess.' Uncle Lou took me by the shoulders. 'Don't get suckered into this thing, Trey.'

'Yes, sir.' Even then, I noticed the phrase into this thing.

Marv flagged me down returning from soccer practice a week after the situation. Titch and Kit were belted into the back seat.

'I have two more locks which Mrs Carson ordered.' Marv looked in and said hi to the kids. 'How's she doing, Doc?'

'Slow going, Marv.'

'I'll keep her on my prayer list.'

You hear that a lot in small town Ontario, even today in this new and sparkling and self-sufficient and self-important new millennium. God still counts to a lot of folk here in the boonies.

Reverend Brown is somewhat of a throwback. He came to Renwick in 1959 as a 21 year-old with a pretty wife. Some of the older folk wondered how the elders could approve such a young man as a pastor. But he was fully educated and certified and perhaps the premature balding helped.

The congregation quickly embraced him as their own and he never gave reason to doubt the decision to hire him. Now-a-days pastors get moved around. Does them good, so the head office folks in Toronto say. Renwick Baptist though is affiliated with no baptist organization. A fact which disgruntled officials of the Baptist Convention took to mean it wasn't a baptist church at all. And they launched a law suit, sort of a copywright or trade mark infringement law suit. A letter from Calista Cotrelle-Carson LLD, professor, Osgoode Hall, a partner at the time in the firm McLaughlin, Cotrelle-Carson, and Shapiro, caused a quick re-thinking of the situation by the plaintive. If baptists drank, they would have toasted Cali that day with a bottle of bubbly.

So you've noticed, that we attend a baptist church and drink and even smoke cigars. And, though I am no Fred Astair, nor even Donny Astair, a local pop-corn grower who lost a leg in a farming accident, I have been known to dance. Titch is wonderfully graceful, too, like her mother. The Carsons, and the Cotrelles for that matter, attend and support the Baptist Church, but we've never joined the church per se.

Dad had a long talk with Reverend Brown about the liquor and cigar and even dancing.

'Didn't the Lord, Himself, turn water into wine? And scripture says David danced? And there's nothing about cigars, one way or the other.'

'Do you believe Jesus is the Son of God, born of a virgin, crucified for our sins and rose from death on the third day to sit at the right hand of God?'

'Sure.'

'You're Christian enough for God. So I won't complain. But no cigars in church.'

The Sunday after thumping the Cadogans, I approached Reverend Brown after service. He noticed me hanging back so Uncle Lou and Mom and Aunt Ella were out of earshot.

'Problems, Roman?'

'I had a fight. I beat up two boys. With Janny.'

Reverend Brown shook his head. 'Janny is quite a terror with those fists. What happened?'

'The Cadogan boys flattened our bike tires and we jumped them after school.'

'Those boys are much older than you. You and Janny beat them up?'

'Yes, sir. Beat them bad.'

'How did this all get started?'

'They said bad things about Mom. And we got into a fight. Then a couple of days later they wrecked our tires.'

'Jesus would have solved this differently, Roman.'

'Yes, sir. I let Jesus and Uncle Lou down.'

'Have you told your uncle about this?'

'Not yet.'

'Let's pray for forgiveness now. Dear Jesus, you know this lad believes in You but he is weak, as we all are. Please forgive his sin and lead him away from fighting. We ask for guidance for Janny, also and for the Cadogan family. In Your Holy Name. Amen.'

'Thank you, Reverend Brown.'

'Confess this to your uncle, too. And accept whatever punishment he might mete out.'

'Yes, sir.'

After lunch, Uncle Lou and I went for our usual walk.

'You told the pastor about your set-to with the Cadogans.'

'Yes, Uncle Lou. Both fights.'

'I was wondering when you were going to tell me about the second one. Old man Cadogie isn't shy about phoning when his ox gets gored.'

'I'm sorry, Uncle Lou. I got revved up by Janny.'

'No. Don't blame Janny. You got revved up because you knew you could beat the tar out of those ill-shaped Cadogies. And the fact that each of them is bigger than both of you and Janny put together made it irresistible.'

Uncle Lou missed his calling. He could have been a shrink. I had beaten up the Cadogans because they were ugly and weak but big enough that I wouldn't look like the bully I actually was.

I hung my head and started to cry. 'I'm sorry, Uncle Lou.'

'Tell that to Jesus and then Monday you tell it to Harley and Kevin.'

Most of the kids at school, the boys, at least, heard of the thumping Janny and I had given the Cadogans on Friday and were greeted like conquering heroes. Little Bobby McKay was especially happy not to be handing over protection money this Monday. 'I told them we was friends. Right, Trey? Janny?'

'Janny, I have to talk with you.'

'Yeah, me too. Your uncle spoke with my dad.'

'Did you get strapped?'

'No. Your uncle said he appreciated me standing up for him and your mom. He said that you were going to make up with Harley and Kevy.'

'Uncle Lou talked to your dad about what they said?'

'I told Dad. I shouldn't told him, Trey.'

'What did your dad say?'

'He said the Cadogies were liars. Trey, I'll apologize, too.'

But we couldn't find either Cadogan before school started. However, Principal Moffat found us. His usual avuncular look had soured. He rapped his glasses against his desk, like a judge's gavel.

'Mr Cadogan called Friday concerning you, two. You do know why, don't you.'

We shuffled and nodded. 'Yes, sir.'

'Harley and Kevin are afraid to come to school this morning. Because of bullying, boys, bullying.'

'Yes, sir. We were going to apologize for that.'

'Take a seat in the outer office. The Cadogans will be here shortly. I had to send Mrs Whyte to pick them up. Too afraid to come by bus.'

We took our in the outer office. I have no idea why it was called that. You couldn't get into it except through Principal Moffat's office. There was no escape. They strapped kids back then and the outer office had an assortment of straps hanging on the wall like armaments.

'Strap city.' Janny had cool talk for everything. His uncle was a beatnik. 'He's like Maynard G Krebs. Coolsville, Arizona, man.' Maynard was a beatnik character on the Dobie Gillis Show and was played by Bob Denver who later played Gilligan on Gilligan's Island. Maynard was much cooler than Gilligan.

'I think it's going be Warmsville, Janny.'

He smiled at my attempt to be hep. 'They can't hurt us, Trey. A couple of swats. Stings like sliding into second base is all. It ain't nothing.'

We heard Mrs Whyte return. 'I shall be accessing petty cash, Allan.'

'Decorum, Mrs Whyte, please. Access it for five dollars.'

'I think ten is the correct number, Mr Moffat.'

'Ten. Loyalty is chap at that price, I suppose. Show them in, please.'

We heard the Cadogans stumble into the principal's office but we couldn't see anything.

'I hope you boys are a little more settled that you were this morning. Good of you to come, Mr and Mrs Cadogan.'

'I tain't a Cadogie, sir.' It was Mrs Cadogan's voice all right.

'Shaddup, woman. We tain't bluhty happy ta be chere Mo-fat. Wadinhell ya runnin chere, a penned-di-ten-shury?'

'Please have a seat. Bullying has been a problem here, I'll grant you that.'

'Manames tain't Grant, tis Ellwoot.'

I thought I heard Principal Moffat snicker. 'Yes, Ellwood, bullying has been a problem. Many of our littlest kids have been shaken down for their money and we've even had some vandalism. Slashed tires and such.'

'Yeah. We wand tabastarts punch-nessed.'

'I'm glad you concur with my assessment.'

'Yeah. Tat's goot, rye-cht?'

'The bullying has been done by Harley and Kevin.'

'Harely and Kevy? Ems wuz beat upt!'

'I have the boys who beat them up, in the outer office. Trey, Janny come here.'

We trudged out to our execution. Mr Cadogan jumped to his feet.

'Yaz whupt bya coupla haff-pints?'

'Dad, they's crazy bad, like Aunt Gertie.'

'She'da whupt 'em.'

Mr Moffat stood up and leaned over the desk. 'Please sit down. All of you.'

Janny and I looked for seats, finding none, just stood as quietly as possible. This could go either way. No, Janny and I were going to get whacked. We deserved it. But it looked like we'd have company in the outer office during the administering of justice.

'Mr and Mrs Cadogan, I called several parents about the incident on Friday involving your lads. No one was surprised or sympathetic that your lads had been beaten up.' Principal Moffat stayed Ellwood's protest with a cease and desist hand sign, like a traffic cop stopping traffic. 'I'm not saying that justified what happened to them, but your lads have been bullying smaller kids on the playground for quite a while.'

'Tay haffunt brung nuttin' tahome.' Ellwood glared at his sons whose eyes had suddenly grown large. 'Ya teevin' bastarts unt brung nuttin' ta yer mutter.'

'Mr Cadogan, you're setting an example of sinful behaviour for these boys.'

'Tat's ver' true, sir. Em boys tain't brung nuttin' tahome fer me.'

'Look, that's not the problem, with all due respect, Mrs...or Miss as the case may be. They were stealing money, robbing actually, robbing little kids. Always picking on kids who have no older sibling, er, brothers or sisters.'

'Tay don haff no bruffers or sistas. Tay's alloff 'em, chust, two.'

Janny and I could hardly prevent an outburst of laughter. 'Sir, we need to go the bathroom.' It was all I could manage to think of.

'Go and wait out with Mrs Whyte. I'm coming with you. You people...' He pointed to each Cadogan in turn. '...stay here and keep quiet.'

Mrs Whyte was wiping tears from her eyes and smiling from earring to dangly earring. 'Keep moving, boys.'

'Yes, ma'm.' We hurried to the boys' bathroom.

'Oh, God, this is worth a strapping, Trey.'

'Yeah. But I still have to say sorry.'

'Me, too. But this is Hill-billyville Arizona, man.'

'You have a weird uncle.'

'So do you.' Janny got my look. 'In a good way. My dad thought they needed a whupping every Friday and their parents. Your Uncle Lou always follows the Bible. That's what my old man says.'

Well, not always.

Principal Moffat finally strapped all four of us. First Janny and me.

'Mrs Whyte has late slips for you.' We were hoping to see the Cadogies get it.

'He went light on us, Trey.'

'Yeah, hardly stings at all.'

At noon we heard both Cadogies returned to class with tears running down their cheeks.

'Moffat must have wailed them good.' Bobby McKay told us in detail of the crying. 'They were bawling. Mr Merkley sent them to the bathroom to get washed up. Their hands were scarlet maybe even ruby red.'

'Nice faggot touch, Bobby, ruby red.'

'Janny! We just got out of one scrape.'

'Yeah, sorry, Bobby.' It didn't sound sincere in the slightest.

Cali found us on the playground. She gave her apple to Janny. 'Are you waiting to avenge more crimes, Janny?'

'Hell, no. They won't screw with our bikes again.'

'You swear too much, Janny. Doesn't he, Roman?'

Of course, I nodded and smiled. 'Uh...'

'I sometimes think you are a Cadogan, too.'

After she left, Janny slapped me on the back of the head.

'Ouch. What's that for?'

'I told my dad how you act around Cali girl and he said you needed a slap upside the head.'

'I don't see how that helped.'

'Me neither. Maybe I should slap you before she talks to you.'

Yeah, the slap before she spoke might have worked. Trouble is Janny never tried that. Ever.

It was another two days before I got a chance to apologize to Harley and Kevin. They were huddled on the edge of the paved section of playground. Everyone avoided getting close to them. When they noticed me approaching they start walking away.

'Hey wait. I want to talk.'

'We got nuthin ta say.' They started running.

I caught them easily. 'I want to say sorry.'

They stopped running. 'Sorry? For what?'

'For Friday.' I saw that they had bruises on their necks and arms. 'Did I do that?' I pointed a sickly yellow stain over Kevin's forearm.'

'Naw. The ole man did that.'

'For fighting and stealing.'

'Hell, no. For losing.'

'And for not forking over.' Harley unbuttoned his shirt. 'He kicked me.' His chest was inflamed and darkly bruised.

'You should ask to see Nurse Fletcher.'

'That never works.'

'Yeah, if we rat him out. He goes double nuts on us. He uses his fish billy.'

A fish billy looks like a small baseball bat and it's turned out of ash or hickory. 'Jesus.'

'He broke my arm once.'

'What for?'

'He beat Mom up, so we tried to kill him when he got drunk. He wasn't drunk enough.'

'He burned Kevy's ass with a cigarette. And then he smashed the billy out my hand with his beer bottle and used it on me.'

'He said it was fair.' Kevy shrugged.

After chores the next Saturday, I told Uncle Lou what the Cadogan boys had told me.

'You think they're telling the truth?'

'Kevy's got a little round and deep scar on his bum. I remember Harley had a cast on his arm a few years ago.'

'He broke that falling out of a tree or something.'

'I think it was the or something. I think they're telling the truth.'

The tolerance for this kind of thing was a lot higher in the late 1950s. Family things got settled in the family. Most fathers and mothers were loving and capable and things worked out fine. But, there were a few families like the Cadogans and things just ran off the rails, sometimes several times a day.

The Cadogans didn't go arrow straight after this, of course. They continued to shake down kids but they went into Windsor to do it on Saturdays. They also developed the art of the five-finger discount, as Janny called shoplifting which is a euphemism itself for stealing from stores.

At Renwick School they kept to themselves, so our problem was solved. They never managed to solve their problem, although they finally managed to kill their father. That act came too late to be liberating.

'Uncle Lou.'

'Trey, where are you?'

'Toronto General. Remember the Cadogans?'

'Hard to forget them. What's up?'

'The boys killed Ellwood. An ambulance just brought the body into the morgue.'

'Big city didn't change anything, uh?'

'The boys turned themselves in, I heard. They just waited around for the paramedics and then confessed.'

'Planning wasn't their strong suit.'

'Thanks for making me apologize to them, Uncle Lou.'

'It was the right thing to do, Trey, and you knew that.'

'Yeah, I did. Because you taught me that.'

'With one exception, I've tried to follow it. I'll be called to account for that.'

'Yeah, we all will.'

Marv handed over the locks and hardware. 'Yes, sir, Doctor Carson, I'll put Mrs Carson on my prayer list.'

'Thanks, Marv. You know you can call me Trey.'

'Oh I sure do. But when you've worked so hard to earn a title, I think it's proper to use it.'

'What's your title, Marv?'

'Repentant sinner. Trying to be fully repentant, anyway, Doctor Carson.'

'Marv, put me on your prayer list, too. Please?'

'Oh, you've been on my list for a while, Doctor. Jesus laid it on my heart that you have some special need for prayer.'

I really didn't expect to get off scott-free. 'Thanks, Marv.'

'And will you pray for me?'

'I will, Marv.'

flow of yella crick

Yella Crick's flow changes by the day and sometimes by the hour because its natural watershed has been destroyed by man. Most people would say developed by man but I believe in calling a spade a spade.

We say a river or rill, stream or creek, or drainage ditch flows in a particular direction. The St Lawrence flows northeasterly. The Mackenzie flows north. The Thames flows westerly. And Yella Crick flows southerly, almost due south.

But in fact that's only the net of flows, or the tendancy of flow. Look into any natural body of moving water which isn't about to jump into space over a waterfalls and you will see water moving in all directions. Even over the falls it happens on a microscopic or molecular level.

The ability to see the actual, beyond what your brain is telling you what it has been told to see, differentiates the poet, lunatic, and theoretical scientist from the rest of us.

As water parts around an object, it swirls back, or eddies, against the primary flow. The less hydrodynamic the shape of an object, the greater the disturbance, the more chaos of eddies and counter eddies. No, chaos is the wrong word because this is all predictable.

An eddy flows at a different speed than the main current, usually slower, but when turning out of the wind, it flows faster.

A counter-eddy flows against the eddy. Theoretically, they are naturally created by any eddy current. Like fractals they reproduce ad infinitum; eddy, counter eddy, counter counter eddy, counter counter counter eddy, and so on.

All currents are semi-lenticular, shaped like a lens sliced horizontally at the middle. A cross view of a river would show eddies shaped like a saucer. Actually several increasingly large saucers, nested. The deeper the eddy the slower the current. The eddy stratifies into layers and each layer slides a little faster than the one below it. Imagine a deck of cards on the table and being pushed forward from the top card. The faster the primary current and the rougher the bottom of the water channel, the more striations, or layers of current and thus the more eddy currents.

The further from the center of the eddy, the slower the current, because the edge of the eddy layer is thin and thus has less momentum and is more easily slowed by currents running in a different direction.

Between the layers of eddies there exist eddies which circle against the eddy flow but vertically like roller bearings. These roller eddies spin from the center of the layer of eddy current to the outside of the saucer, almost as if they follow the spiral of a coiled spring. And of course, the same fractal pattern emerges roller eddy, counter roller eddy, counter counter roller eddy and so on.

Eddies and their fractals interact, either colliding, or joining flows. The meeting of any flows produces horizontal and vertical eddies and the concomitant fractal-like currents. Water in movement is always roiling.

As water slows it loses some of its power to suspend, so debris drops out of suspension and gathers in the bottom. The greater the change of speed, the more debris drops out of suspension. Predators gather where the eddies slow the greatest, and they lie in wait in decending order of ferocity from the slowest to the fastest currents.

Dad and I were not sophisticated anglers, or rather, we were not equipped with sophisticated gear. Uncle Lou resisted monofilament line. He said it had too much attitude.

'Mono tangles but won't hold an ordinary knot. It's the devil's own work.'

I wasn't yet enrolled in school. Dell was around and Uncle Lou owned a big red dog, Walter, who was friendly, except to cats. Uncle Lou and Walter, Dad and I went fishing one day in at the very end of the trillium bloom, which would put it in the first week of June.

Mom had led Aunt Ella in a small copse of hickory to show her the blooms.

'The last trilliums of the year, Ella.' Both of them had a handful of tissues.

Dad shook his head. 'Maddy's crying again.'

'At least it's happy tears, this time, Dell.'

Dad seemed sour after that, I think. Uncle Lou and I walked ahead, Walter raced up the trail and kept circling back. Dad didn't catch up to us until we had baited our lines.

Dad was smoking and stood looking into Yella Crick as if mesmerized. 'I don't want to eat anything out of this stinking water.'

'That's not dirt, Dell. That's clay.'

'What the hell is clay if it ain't dirt?'

'The water isn't polluted. That's just yella clay.'

'Yeah and the damn fish are eating it. Cats especially. It ain't healthy.'

'You shouldn't smoke, Daddy.'

Uncle Lou exploded in laughter. 'Got you there, Dell.'

'Ha ha. I'm having a nap.' Dad found two of Uncle Lou's straw bale hunting seats and made himself a bed.

Uncle Lou showed me where to swing the worm into the eddies and how to follow the bait underwater by imagining how it was sinking and being pushed along.

'Top water is fast. Bottom water is slower.'

If the current faces a head wind the second layer is faster and it rolls the entire top layer of water, making it less transparent and making top water baits useless, unless they are moved to create noise.

'When the water is riled up, you must fish under the surface. Unless you have a big noisy top bait like a big live mouse.'

'Like a frog?'

'Nope frogs don't like to swim in chop.'

Dad had been snoring for an hour. He'd dropped his cigarette just as he nodded off but I ran over and stomped it out. Uncle Lou gave me a thumbs up.

We caught bluegills that day, a whole bucket of them. They fought like rat terriers shaking the line as they tried to dive into cover the break off the line.

Dad was stirring as I caught the biggest fish of the day, one lone bullhead. 'Dad! Look!'

Dad sat up suddenly. 'I never should have changed plans.'

'What are you babbling about, Dell?'

'I never should have enlisted.'

'Old Mackenzie King had the last say on that.'

'No, those bastards in Quebec ran for the hills. No one bothered them. Besides, I was headed to college to be an engineer.'

'Not every Frenchman ran away. What about the Van Doos?'

'I don't give a rat's ass about Van Doos. I shouldn't have changed my plans, Lou. I got caught in an eddy current, my life drifted down, and got swallowed up.'

Dell's engineering mind figured out the currents and eddy currents and left ten pages of calculations about his thinking which I found eight years after his death. I gave the papers to Wren who footnoted them in her work on the refutation of pure chaos.

Dad, Dell, left us on Yella Crick and when we returned to Uncle Lou's, Dad was drunk, and Mom was crying in Aunt Ella's spare bedroom. Dad was passed out in the Desoto.

'Dell figured out that stuff on currents when we were fishing as kids. He'd float leaves down the crick and watch them. You know how he got to staring at times. He was about 12 when he wrote that.'

'He developed the calculations, too?'

'Yeah, he borrowed a slide rule from the high school math teacher to work out the numbers. That's why we called him Slide.'

'Do you think he was a genius, Uncle Lou?'

'You'd have to be, wouldn't you?'

Poor Dell had been peeled off into an eddy right into a waiting maw.

'I never should have enlisted, Lou. Never.'

I brought a handful of hay to Jennette as Uncle Lou was milking. I loved the smell of the barn, the earthiness, the sweet smell of cattle, and the richness of warm milk.

'Why does Daddy get so mad and sick?'

'He thinks he's still fighting the war.'

'Like Mister Abe?' Abner Thomas had been traumatized as a prisoner of war in Dresden. He survived the fire-bombing. Well, his body survived. There wasn't much left of the happy, gentle boy who went to war. Aunt Ella might have married him, Uncle Lou said more than once.

'Sort of, Trey. You'll find out when you grow up.'

'How come Daddy didn't find out?'

I imagined Uncle Lou laughed at that but I really don't remember. Years later we had the same sort of conversation.

'There's three ways of living, Trey. Drifting along, like Jennette.'

'Jennette drifts along?'

'Yeah, look, she stands here while I rob her calf of its natural feed. And all because I bring her three squares a day. Then I slaughter her children. But I keep feeding her and acting nice. One day, I'll slaughter her.'

'Sounds dismal put that way.'

'Sounds dismal? It is dismal! Never drift along, unless you're on a nice stream!'

'Ok. What's the next way?'

'Struggling against everything. Like Dell.'

'So the third way is...?'

'The straight and narrow, Trey!'

'Why does Dad struggle with everything?'

'He had such promise as a young 'un. He was smart like Wren. He was headed for engineering school at McMaster and hell breaks loose in Europe. Nothing was the same after for him.'

'Resentment that he was forced to go to war?'

'Heck no, no one forced him. He whipped up all his buddies and me. Let's crush those Krauts. I guess it didn't matter, volunteer or not, the war got all of us.'

'He figured he made a mistake later, uh?'

'I guess. He never said much. He took shrapnel in his leg. Real high up his leg.'

'The war didn't get you.'

'Listen, I was six kinds of trouble before enlisting. It took a two sergeant majors to kick me into shape.'

After church, I had to needle cattle for Archie on June the sixth, 1965 and he started reminiscing about the war.

'Uncle Lou said the war changed him.'

'It needed to. He was hell bent for election as a lad. My old man shot him one night.'

'Really? Why?'

'Your Uncle Lou was stealing chickens. Lou's still got a hole in his left shoulder.'

'He told me he got shot but never explained it to me. I thought it was a war injury.'

'I dug that shot out of him the next morning after he got drunk on strong cider. Then we went to school.'

'Drunk?'

'It wasn't the first time. I think we were 11 or 12 at the time. Yeah, war changed him. For the good. Came back and met Ella and that worked out pretty well, except for not having kids.'

'Aunt Ella treats us like we belong to her.'

Archie sighed deeply. 'I was about to ask Ella to be my wife. Lou beat me to it. Take care, Trey, ya nearly punctured Molly's back teat.'

Time passes

When I was 19 I asked a woman on her 95th birthday how it felt to live that long, she said it didn't seem that long a time.

'Only yesterday I was a beauty as young as you.'

I didn't believe her. Until I turned 45.

Titch is 15 and now much preferred to be called Barrie. Incomprehensively, she looks like Cali, and has boys sniffing around, which is worrisome to a father. When we told her, at age seven, she was adopted, she seemed very puzzled. 'My birth mom must look just like you, Mom!'

She is a very intelligent young woman.

Kit is nearly 13 and almost 6 feet tall. He is a careless student but an omnivorous reader. He abhors math but enjoys talking with Wren about her work. He has no stomach for medicine.

'Dad, I don't mind gutting and butchery, but sick people just creep me out.' That attitude would never produce a comforting bedside manner.

He is a straight ahead fullback and impervious to pain. Not altogether a good thing. After the final game last year, Cali noticed a large bruise on his chest.

'Show that to Dad when he comes home.'

'It doesn't hurt, Mom.'

He didn't show me the injury until Cali gave him a direct order in my presence.

'It doesn't hurt, Dad.'

I ran my hand lightly along his side. He had broken all of his ribs on the left side but he didn't even wince. 'You're going to hospital, Kit. You've busted all your ribs.'

'No kidding. I just feel a little sore.' Kit's eyes glimmered with pride.

But Cali's eyes grew round. 'He could have died with a punctured lung.'

Actually, if we weren't careful getting him to hospital, he could still wind up puncturing a lung. 'Calm down, Cali girl...'

'Don't give me Calm down, Cali girl.' A red streak ran up her elegant pale neck. It was the Cali girl part that did it, not the calm down part that pressured the eruption. 'My dad's a doctor, remember? This is serious. He could still puncture his lung. If we aren't careful.'

Kit healed in a few months and seems to be ready for the upcoming season. It took me back to the days after Recker chewed on me. Happy memories.

I tried to spend an hour with Kit after supper with some conditioning exercises and careful stretching. I also contacted the top nutritionist at University Hospital at UWO for a special healing diet. Kit lived on steak, milk, and triple helpings of salad for about three months.

'Dad, can I have a hot dog when I'm fixed up?'

Titch was concerned that I pushed Kit too hard during exercises. 'Kit groans in his room. I can hear him.'

'Well, it's good for a young man to grin and bear it.'

'Daddy, you wouldn't make me do those exercises.'

I thought about that. 'I guess I think you are tough enough, Titch.'She squinted. 'Barrie.'

She smiled, a little sadly. 'Is it because, he's not a good student and he'll have to work hard for a living?'

'Who said that?'

'You said that Kit's not a good student.'

'That doesn't mean he isn't smart. Look at the stuff he talks to Aunt Wrennie about.'

'Well, he may be smart, but he never finishes anything. Gramps is concerned about that.'

It was true that Kit started a lot of projects and wanted to give up as soon as things got tough. We locked horns a few times about written assignments, and cleaning up bedrooms et cetera. 'He's persevering with the physio.'

Cali was happy with Kit's progress. 'He's as tough as you were Trey.'

'I thought you said I was stupid.'

'I did. And tough.'

'Barrie said Gramps thinks that Kit doesn't finish most of the projects he starts.'

'He finishes every book. He goes early to practice and stays late. He's not mechanical like you and Lou, though. You can't expect him to weld up trailer hitches or whatever.'

Although the kids were home schooled, Cali had lobbied for home schoolers to be eligible for high school sports. Parents who paid taxes and lived in the school area, had the right to send kids to try out for school teams. Once again a letter from the Osgoode Hall professor was a sobering reminder that those who paid the piper called the tune.

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What boys do worries parents. What girls do and who they do it with worries parents. Nancy-boys may gush over outfits and accessories and cute boys, but normal testosterone-juiced males, xxx

The 95 year-old woman also told me that old age brought back wonder.

'You can remember the first time, your first sweetheart, your first pretty dress. I remember seeing my first cardinal like it happened yesterday. But we don't know when we will have experienced our last anything. This birthday might be my last. I might not ever eat another chocolate cake. You might be the last handsome young man I ever meet. So I pay particular attention to things. Not just the beautiful or the wonderful but also the ugly, the dark, and the painful. I cut my finger this very morning and it reminded me of what Our Lord must have gone through on that cross.'

She didn't blurt that out. People don't talk like that normally, though characters do on stage or in novels. Maud Mary Grace Windle was a neighbour of Nana's at the Grosvernor Apartments. She had a bedsitter on the first floor and once a week, she invite me to tea.

Her place was a museum of photographs, some as early as the 1880s to one's taken that very morning by her grandson with his Polaroid camera. A whole life, I thought, on display, and I said so.

'No, Trey, life isn't out there to be captured. It's in here.' She placed her hand over my heart. 'If I were to die next Tuesday, these pictures would only be shadows of my life. Don't get to involved with things. Lay up your treasures in heaven.'

Christians are unafraid of death. Non-believers are usually terrified, though some seem eager to die. Duty in ER is eye opening.

Most of the patients in emergency rooms don't belong there. Their illnesses or injuries are not life threatening nor serious for the most part. Most illnesses are not, either. Meningitis, heart attack, and stroke being the exceptions.

True emergency medicine is usually performed on injuries. Of those injuries, my personal experience is that in a city hospital 70% of those injuries are alcohol or drug related. In a rural hospital that number is about 30%. Most patients in rural hospital ERs are there due to work place accidents.

I've treated car crash victims who pleaded to be sedated to death. ER staff calls them no-hopers, people who had no reason to live. They don't survive well at all. I've also treated badly injured people who pleaded with me not to let them die. We called those soilers and you can guess why. They don't do well either.

'Christians don't want to die, Trey, you know that. But we're ready when the Good Lord takes us.'

The irony of this seeming resignation is that Christians survive injury and illness better than non-believers.

Uncle Lou always summed up Second Corinthians chapter 12 verse 9 as 'When you're down for the count, you're a champ.'

'More biscuits?' Even at 95 years-old, Maud was active and walking as strong as most people 20 years younger. She held the heavy tea tray before me and I quickly picked off a Peak Frean strawberry creme.

'Let me take that for you, Maud.'

'Oh, it's nothing. I built up my strength holding lads and lasses, my own and and their own and their own. Three generations, Trey. That gives a woman a lot of strength.'

'You never know which sunset will be your last, which bluebird, which kiss...'

Dad's 75th birthday

FAMILY ONLY PLUS JANNY, RON, ALICE AND ARCHIE CELEBRATION JULY 4 2001 COMBINES LOU'S 75 PLUS 24TH ANNIVERSARY OF MOM'S WEDDING 25 YEARS AFTER KILLING DELL, 25 YEARS AFTER BURYING ELLA,(SO SAD PART NECESSARY AND REFLECT ON HER LIFE IWTH CHICKENS AND HERBS(IN CLOACHES ALONG THE CRICK) BARRIE 16 ZACK 14 AND HEALING FROM RIB BREAKING WREN AND HUBBY 25 YEARS 3 KIDS PIP AND MARK 3 KIDS AND TAKING OVER LANDS END, LL BEAN OR TILLEYS

DISCUSS AGE, TREY'S MIDDLE AGE CRISIS(WONDERING ABOUT SHARLA) MORE TALK OF LOU'S WILD CHILDHOOD AND DELL'S DECENCY AS A KID AND HIS BRILLIANCE

COMPILATION OF CANOE TRIPS WITH NEPHEWS AND NIECES AND LOU

I rented a marquee tent for family get together. It started out to be a 75th birthday party for Dad but he protested.

'Getting old and soft ain't a reason for a party.'

'You don't want a party, Gramps?'

'I didn't say that, Barrie. I just don't want a party celebrating what's become of me.'

So, we decided on a pan-celebration party. Dad's birthday, Mom and Dad's 24th anniversary, Pippin's 42nd birthday (heck, she could still cause accidents just by walking), Barrie's 16th birthday, Zack's healed ribs, my 51st birthday and 26th wedding anniversary, Wren's appointment to Harvard's faculty of math. Of course, it was also the 25th anniversary of Aunt Ella's death. And the killing of Dell.

Dad said that he didn't want to celebrate what he'd become. He has some wrinkles and age spots but he was still straight as stretched fish line and just as taut. Nearly. He'd gained about five pounds I'd guess, during his marriage to Mom.

'First couple of years, I lost weight. But Maddy's not quite so demanding now.' Sometimes Dad spoke without that little voice of censorship yelling, DOES YOUR SON NEED TO HEAR THIS? Yes, I know, I am a physician and I have seen and heard nearly everything about what humans do or think, but, hearing about the sex life, obviously a very active one, of my parents is still unnerving.

Anyway, Dad had not lost his energy or much of his strength. At least once a year, we would limb, buck, and split wood, just as we did when I was a young 'un.

'Are you considering putting in a propane furnace, Dad?'

'With an endless supply of maple and oak and hickory, right here and convenient?'

Convenience is relative. Standing trees a mile from the stove wasn't my idea of convenient. 'This is a lot of work.'

'Yeah. If I get propane, then I'd need to hit the weights for exercise. And I'd still need to earn money for propane. This way I get fuel and exercise together. Convenient!'

Dad had never complained about stiff or sore muscles. Until I was 40, I had never complained either. We had been stacking split butts of maple near the back door, carrying them an armload at a time and building an airy wall of them. I felt the soreness set in about an hour into the job. I started carrying less and walking slower. Dad noticed.

'Citified living, Trey.'

'Yeah, I'm used to standing for 10 hours over a patient in the OR. I need to get back on the weights.'

'You need to do chores everyday.'

Fact is I would have enjoyed doing chores but I was usually at the hospital at 5:30 doing morning rounds. I'd return home for breakfast at 7:30 and then off to the Wheatley office. Despite moving the office, several people continued to show up at the house at eight o'clock with minor problems. They were mostly elderly and neighbours, so there was no thought about turning them away.

I was just starting breakfast. I was running behind my normal schedule since I'd had a baby delivery at the hospital. The door bell rang. It was Mavis Dawson, a neighbour about two miles down the highway.

'I brought some conserves. Elderberry.'

'That's very thoughtful. Cali's just getting the kid's lessons underway, Mavis.'

'Oh, no, I want to see you, Doctor.' She held up her arm to show me a large and deep burn. 'I stumbled against the bean-roaster.'

The bean-roaster is a large portable oven which cooks a farmer's harvest of soy beans right there on the farm. Soy beans are just about useless until processed in one way of the other.

I washed the burn and applied salve and bandaged it. Mavis gritted her through the entire ordeal but she thanked me and started out the door. 'I have some painkillers at the office...'

'...perhaps you could drop them by on your way home.'

'I think you should take them now, Mavis.'

'Oh, so do I, but I couldn't ask you to make a special trip to get them.'

She drove the Park Avenue carefully and obliviously in front the school bus and trundled down the highway.

'Cali! Send Kit, please.'

Kit was only too happy to miss lessons for the hour it would take him to drive with me to the office and courier the medicine by bike to Mavis.

'What's up, Dad?'

'Load your bike into the pickup.'

'Another medical delivery?'

'Yep.'

'Is it worth a sawbuck?'

'It's worth a fin.'

'Okay.'

'Who teaches you this lingo, anyway?'

'Gramps! Who else?'

About my 45th birthday, I noticed the kids as if for the first time. They weren't babies anymore. Zack was muscling up and sprouting body hair. Barrie was growing hips and breasts. And Cali had developed a little greyness which she dyed over on a regular basis but I still seemed to see it. She'd gained some weight, softening her face and form. She'd also grown softer intellectually. Not stupid, not soft, just softer. She decidedly out of court room shape.

We are all changing. My finger joints started developing arthritis when I was about 45. I'd noticed a small bump on the first joint of my first finger on my left hand. I tried to ignore it but over the last five years it has gotten worse, with nearly all my finger joints showing some damage. I can't make a really tight fists now and in the mornings I have to flex my hands to rid them of stiffness. Clearly my operating days are numbered.

At 50, I found I needed reading glasses. It happened in the space of three weeks. I thought I had a cold or weepy eye at first. But then it dawned on me, it was time for reading glasses. I know, physician heal thyself! As a group, physicians are careless with their own health.

Zack was precocious in puberty. At 11, he started to sprout facial and body hair. His Adam's apple became pronounced at the same time and his voice deepened. He started lifting weights and boxing with Gramps and his strength skyrocketed. It was also becoming clear that he was a very self-directed, read stubborn, young student.

'Dad, this stuff isn't important...'

'...algebra is important...' Replace algebra with almost any subject.

'... to me, Dad, not to me.'

But he continued to read through the Great Works of the Western World, so I didn't push too hard. But Dad's assessment that Zack was he failed to complete projects bothered me deeply.

'Zack doesn't finish the jobs, Trey. He does the chores but leaves the tools in the stall or wherever.'

'Bribe him. Cash works.'

'Cash works with most people. But he needs to develop that character which causes him to finish jobs properly.'

'Why didn't you go into psychology?'

'I'm too mixed up in my own mind.'

'How are we going to teach Zack the right way to do a job?'

'Get him into 4H. And have him raise his own calf.'

The juries out on the results. So far, the calf is healthy and gaining weight. Zack has had to buy one manure fork handle after he left it in the stall over night.

He stormed into the house after peddling back from the hardware. 'Twenty bucks! That's the last time I buy a handle!' He hefted the handle like a spear. 'Oh, Marv said hi.'

I called Dad. 'Sounds like Zack's learning. He doesn't want to have to buy another handle.'

'Thank God. They're not that easy to snap.'

Barrie's entire life has had an elegance matched only by the life of her Aunt Pippin. Barrie is pretty, intelligent, and athletic. She dances, sings, and has a poise which belies her youth.

Even at awards ceremonies in my honour, she has been the center of focus. When a child upstages Cali, Pippin and the Lieutenant-Governor of Ontario, you realize you are in the presence of a person with it.

Cali and I worried about this, thinking it might swell her head. But the worry was needless. Barrie understood exactly why the press and grown ups doted on her.

'Because I'm a cute, intelligent kid, I have to be even more polite and humble. That's what Gramps says.'

Barrie has boundless energy and it organized physically (her room is spotless) and intellectually (she qualified for college by age 14.) While not precocious sexually, she reached puberty too fast for me. Any father's daughter does. I have never spoken with a father who said he wanted his daughter to develop.

I had walked over to Dad's one last Friday. The last Friday before Labour Day is always mildly depressing for me since it always meant it was time to go back to school. Anyway, I was walking over to Dad's and was met by Barrie on her horse, Cinnabar, a red, warm-blooded stallion.

(Don't think that wasn't a tough sell to convince her Mom! But it was love at first sight but more importantly, mastery at first ride, that convinced me to write a cheque which could have bought a very nice motorcycle.)

'Hi, Daddy.' She still called me Daddy. She reined Cinnabar to a halt on the trail.The big horse trod in place, ready for his run with my slip of daughter balanced on his back. 'I'm going to gallop in Archie's cattle pasture.'

Archie hadn't run cattle in Archie's cattle pasture for twenty years. In fact, the Cotrelles had owned the land for thirty years before Cali and I bought the farm, but it was still Archie's cattle pasture to everyone, including us. The pasture was now grown up in Carolinian woods through which Barrie had traced out trails on Robbie and now a huge red stallion.

'Be careful, Titch.' Sometimes I don't catch myself. 'Barrie.'

She smiled. 'Daddy, you can still call me Titch.' And she galloped away. Giggling like a girl but jiggling like a woman. Cinnabar's hooves shaking the earth like a geological force.

'She sits a horse like...'

'...a woman, Dad?'

'...like an aristocrat on a fox hunt.' Dad had placed a comforting hand on my shoulder. 'You noticed, too, uh. Gramma took a look out the window and wondered who the woman was on our land.'

The marquee tent barely fit the bed of my Silverado and it took Zack and me to pull it out onto yard just back of the fire ring.

'Did you invite Barnum & Bailey?'

'Just straighten that corner, Circus Boy.'

Zack and Dad and I spent two hours erecting the party tent on the Friday before Canada Day-July Fourth weekend. The get together was scheduled for noon Saturday.

Mom brought out iced sweet tea, a habit we got visiting Florida. Sweet southern coleslaw and pulled-pork would be on the menu tomorrow.

'We don't have enough ice, Lou.' Mom was seventy and yet she still has a glow about her. Cali whispered to me once that she hoped to age as well as Mom.

'So long as you don't get crazy.' That was before Mom had married Uncle Lou. Before she started tending chickens. Before Aunt Ella died.

My earliest memory of Aunt Ella was of being carried into the hen's yard. It was a pen of chicken wire high enough for Uncle Lou and Aunt Ella to stand in. I'm high on her shoulder and tossing scratch feed down to a flock of auburn hens. I remember the colour of those hens. I remember looking down at them and hearing the cackling as they fought for the grains that dribbled from my hand. In the picture, I'm looking at the camera. I am not smiling but there is a luminescence about my face.

After our wedding, Mister Lucy and Pippin went through all the stacks of the photo albums. He saw the picture and wept.

'What is it, darling?'

'Oh, Pippin, this is the face of an angel. Actually emitting light. Only angels can do that, Pippin.'

'An angel? That's Brother!'

'Not the little boy. This woman.' Mister Lucy scanned the room. 'Aunt Ella.'

Before I was old enough to help Uncle Lou in the shop, I spent a lot of time with Aunt Ella in her patches of garden. I say it that way because only the vegetable garden was in one spot. The herbs and berries and nuts and asparagus were grown in spots here and there. Some patches were hundreds of yards from the house.

'It's so nice to chance upon things.'

One of my favourite things to chance upon was raspberries. Aunt Ella had planted several patches around the farm and each year we tended them together. Wren and Pippin did, too. We all loved raspberries.

Raspberries don't produce any fruit the first year. Fruit only grows on two year-old canes and right after fruiting they die. So each fall, after the fun of picking and eating berries, we came back to cut down the old cane.

'It's sad that they only live two years, Aunt Ella.' Pippin had a load of old canes cradled in her arms.

'Yes, Pippin darling, it is. But they did what God intended them to do. Produce fruit.'

'That's what Pastor Brown said we should do.'

Aunt Ella just smiled her angel smile. 'Wrennie, you are a careful listener!'

'Pastor doesn't mean fruit like berries, though. We can't grow raspberries on our arms!' Pippin laughed at her own joke and ran off with the canes to make a home for bunnies.

The pile of canes did provide cover for cottontail. Uncle Lou and I had seen that for a fact when a broad-shouldered hawk swept down on a rabbit which dove into Pippin's shelter. She was ecstatic that she had saved a bunny. We didn't have the heart to tell her we may have shot him as we returned back down the path about 30 minutes later.

Once we cleared out the old cane, we lopped off the first year growth at about three feet. In the old days, folks thought a six year-old, properly instructed, could handle a pair of pruning shears.

'How come we chop down the new canes, too?'

'If they get too long, they fall over when they get loaded with fruit, Trey.'

'Too much of a good thing!'

Aunt Ella nearly doubled up with laughter. 'Trey, you sound just like your Uncle Lou.'

I remember smiling and feeling warm the rest of the day from that.

Aunt Ella planted ever bearing plants, so we could pick and eat right through summer and into the fall. She crowned the land first to keep the roots from staying wet. Uncle Lou offered to help but she always turned him down.

'Lou, this spadework keeps me fit. I feel I could live to be a hundred.' It was a lovely dream.

She worked in a lot of composted soil into the crown before planting. Some patches were covered with old fishing nets to keep the birds from eating the berries, but the patches further from home were unprotected.

'I'm sure the birds love them as much as we do.'

I think Aunt Ella was right about that, some years we'd hardly get a berry from the outer patches.

Uncle Lou would shake his head. 'Ella, you could sell those berries and buy scratch grain to feed those bird.'

'Would you like scratch grain in your ice cream, Lou?' Aunt Ella always won that argument. In my estimation.

Time spent with Aunt Ella dealt with conservation, philanthropy, or education, and often all wrapped up together.

She felt that we should listen to good music and so she bought a record player and symphonic albums. She used her egg and chicken money for this. By the time we reached high school we could recognize the major classical composers and many of the minor ones.

Music was a curious dead spot in Uncle Lou. He had never owned a TV until he married Mom and he barely listened to the radio unless it was the hockey game. He loved to sing at church but that was it for music. Aunt Ella knew that was a deficit in a man and so she filled the house with music when we kids were over for a visit. Which was daily, at least.

Aunt Ella taught us how to make bread, cakes, cookies and pies. She taught us to make sauces, soups, and how to cook any kind of fish, fowl, or meat. Later, Nana reinforced all of that. We churned butter with Aunt Ella and made cheese. And part of every batch of bread or cookies or pot of soup was for some friend, neighbour, or stranger who needed a bite to eat.

'Put the very best aside for others, kids. That way they will know we truly love them.'

The tent was erect and lines were taut. Zack had chugged his sweet tea and had piled the ice on his head under his ball cap and was grinning like a lop-sided idiot. Barrie trotted by on Cinnabar as regal as Grace Kelly, or Pippin.

'Hey, Sis, I got ice on my head.'

'And permanent brain freeze, Brother.' Barrie kicked Cinnabar into motion and disappeared behind the barn and out into the pasture.

'Can I go now, Dad? Stub and me are going for a swim before things start happening.'

Cali came out with some decorations. 'Stub and I...'

'Mom, you can't come.'

'The way to say it is Stub and I are going swimming.'

'Yes, teach.' The ice was melting down his neck, spawning rivers through the sweat and dirt, and soaking his shirt. He needed a good dunking. 'Can... may I go now?'

'Be back at noon.'

'Yes, sir.' Zack ran off to get his dirt bike. We heard it buzz up through the gears.

'He rides too fast, Trey. It's too dangerous.'

'Life's dangerous, Cali.' I patted her backside and she pretended to swat me. 'He's as skilled on that bike as Barrie is on Cinnabar.'

'That hardly helps.' She snuggled into my chest. 'I don't mean to worry so much.'

'I worry, too. Dad told me that fathers make lousy soldiers. Now, I believe him.'

'Must be hell to watch your kids become soldiers. We're so lucky, Trey.'

Mom caught us snuggling. 'My, my. And in this heat.'

I had to let that line slide. She is my mother. 'I just needed a little soothing, Mom. I've been putting up the big top all morning.'

Mom massaged my neck. 'Cali, do you need help with the decorations?'

'I'm going to take a shower. Then I'm going to town for ice. Make a list of the other stuff we need.' I kissed them both and scooted before they found more work for me to do.

Mark flew his own plane, too, an eleven-passenger, Beech King Air 350 twin turboprop. He brought the rest of the family with him. Dad met them at Robinson's airfield in our Escalade and somehow found room for all nine of them.

MARK, PIPPIN, BOY BOY GIRL, WREN HUBBY BOY GIRL CHANGE STUFF ABOUT WREN'S KIDS BEING THREE KIDS AND FIND NAME FOR HER HUBBY

nomination 2001

'Doctor Carson, code green. Doctor Carson.' An APB over the hall speakers. I heard it but I was going over a patient's chart and do not like to be hurried when I am doing a service for a patient.

A candy-striper swept breathlessly into the room. 'Call for you at the desk, Doctor Carson.'

'Is it important?' Why hospitals ban cell phone for staff, I cannot give an answer. Not a sensible one, anyway.

'Nurse Omstead said it was your wife.'

I felt the colour drain from my face. Cali never called unless it was an absolute necessity. 'Cali?'

'Darling, you've been nominated.'

'For what?' Not another play group or speaker for a graduating class. Not another fund raiser.

Cali turned the phone toward Zack and Barrie. 'The Nobel Prize, Dad!'

'Doctor Carson, are you alright, sir?'

It was a young candy-striper. 'Yes, thank you. I was just nominated for the Nobel Prize.'

'Wow.' The candy-striper sat heavily in the chair which was conveniently right behind her.

'I feel the same way.' I nearly dropped the phone. 'Cali, are you sure?'

'I just got the official telegram. Trey, can you come home now?'

'Just finished with Trudy Peters.'

'A boy?'

'A girl. Finally.'

I called Dad on the way home.

'The Nobel? The Nobel? Son you're making me dizzy. Maddy, Trey's gone and won the Nobel Prize!'

'No, Dad, I've just been nominated. My whole team is responsible for the success.'

'You'll win, Trey.'

'Well, if I do, you have a lot to do with it.'

'Thanks, Trey, but I had nothing to do with it.'

'Remember the Penobscot bow?'

'Sure. How did that help?'

'I used the idea of tune-ability by varying the thickness of the new flapper valve, I designed. More pressure opened the valve further without another mechanism being involved.'

'That's a heap of creative thinking, Trey.'

'I didn't realize where the idea came from, at first.'

'Well, I think you have always been plenty smart.'

'You taught me how to approach problems.'

'You had a heap of talent and gumption on your own. Maddie, come say hello to our genius son.'

'Congratulations, Trey. Only a few Canadians have won Nobel Prizes. I am very proud.'

'I haven't won the prize yet. I've just been nominated for it.'

'Oh, Cali will look so wonderful with you accepting the prize.'

'We'll all go. It's not till December.'

'Oh, Trey...' Mom started crying.

'Happy tears, Mom?'

'Yes, very.'

'Put Dad back on, please.' And she did but she kept crying. Hard to tell the difference between happy and sad tears, sometimes.

the nyc trip June 2001

Wren & Hubby, Pippin & Mark, Cali, Maddy, Lou, Trey KIDS WENT TO EUROPE WITH COTRELLES

end game monday 10 sept 2001

tomorrow 8:30 am breakfast on top of the world north tower!

Editor's notes

I had the good fortune to know Dr Carson and his whole family. From 1996 to 2003, I lived in the house he grew up in, and I, in fact, bought the house and farm in the estate sale and plan to retire there in 2013.

Trey, as he preferred to be known, and I became fast friends after our meeting over Christmas 1996. We shared an interest in fishing and Trey and Lou and I spent some enjoyable hours on Yella Crick. He told me of his diary, though he never showed it to me. He willed it to me, along with all his papers, plans, and sketches, he had accumulated over his relatively short, but hugely productive, life.

I didn't include Pippin's or Wren's weddings, though Trey had made many notes about both events. But Pippin's wedding was covered ad nauseum (Trey's notes record that both Pippin and her husband, Mark, used this phrase about the hoopla) for several days by the fashion press, and entertainment TV. Most anything about Pippin is better on video, in any case. Any wedding with 5000 people at the reception is bound to garner interest, so perhaps CTV, CBC, Global, Fashion TV, and all the American networks can be partially excused. Trey's own notes indicate he wasn't going to exploit the occasion any more than it had been milked. His words.

Interesting side note. Pippin became the most popular name for baby girls 14 months later. Comedian Jerry Van Dyke said that if they all look like the original no man's gonna complain!

Likewise Wren's wedding became part of Ben Stein's Oscar winning documentary, Geniuses in the Making, or is that Genii? Wren often joked her wedding was seem by more people than Princess Di's. And she is right. Ben used video of Wren's wedding at Renwick Baptist Church shot by Janny. The rusticity combined with two internationally known eggheads, has Ben described them, struck a chord with movie audiences everywhere. Wren looked absolutely divine.

I admit to taking some minor liberties with dialogue but I knew the family very well and I sought to reproduce the words they most likely used. But I only did this if Trey's notes were incomplete. However, most of this memoir was finsihed by the time of his death. My part in this is definitely small. I only made changes or additions where Trey's notes indicated that he wasn't finished writing or editing that particular part of the manuscript.

He recorded a lot of dialogue, some of it mine, so I know his ear and memory were good. Most of Sharla's dialogue is verbatim from Trey's notes as is about 90% of Uncle Lou's dialogue.

Often, Trey annotated his notes with the words funny, kidding, stressed or by underlining or writing in CAPS. Recker's attack is verbatim in this work and in all capitals in Trey's own notes. Cali is always written in a soft flowing hand, whereas Trey's handwriting normally resembled the Staccato 222 font. His notes about Cali's attempts at suicide are relatively sparse compared with his writings on other subjects.

His notes indicate that he had planned several other books: one about the outdoors, to include archery, hunting, fishing, canoing and camping; another about flying, planes, and motorcycles; and yet another about education. And a book about baking bread!

He kept notebooks from his childhood of projects he and his Uncle Lou worked on. He recorded details of fishing and hunting trips. He kept a list of books he had read. I looking for some interesting way to organize them which may shed more light on the life of this remarkable and complex man.

The recollections of Trey's youth were recalled and put to paper much later in life. He started this memoir after Nana's death as far as I can determine from his notes and from the note books he wrote in. He didn't use the computer outside of his scientific research. He wasn't a fan of the cell phone, either.

His notebooks contain pressed flowers, leaves, and feathers by the bushel, and thousands of sketches of people and critters, as he labelled them, who came into his life. There is a detailed series of sketches about artificial insemination of cattle. He made sketches before every operation he undertook. He sketched every dog, including Recker, that Uncle Lou had owned. I compared the sketches with photographs and it is clear that Trey was accomplished draftsman in the largest sense of that word. He apparently saved every scrap of paper he marked up and kept it organized.

His medical and scientific papers have been widely published and Robert P Crosston's book Many Honours detail the awards Dr Carson garnered, so almost none of that is included here. Trey's notes on all of the awards he won are surprisingly scant. But he cherished them none-the-less.

I do know that if Trey were alive when it was announced Henry Morgentaler was to be awarded the Order of Canada, he would have sent his own medal back. This is not my speculation. Doctor Trey Carson had nothing but loathing for Morgentaler, refusing to call him doctor, calling him a baby-killer and a blight on Canadian medicine.

'I do not want to be associated with such a vile creature of hate. It does not take learning to kill babies, only the heart of a monster.'

No doubt Trey would have returned the Order of Canada.

It wasn't known that the Carson family was at Ground Zero that awful day. His colleagues in Toronto thought he was already back to Canada. That was the plan. No alarm was raised until Thursday, September 13th 2001, when the Hotel Dakota contacted the Toronto General with the information that Doctor Carson and his family had not returned from Tuesday morning breakfast. A search of the room revealed a note on the hotel stationary indicating the family was in the North Tower at the time of the attack.

Why Doctor Carson or anyone in the family didn't alert anyone by cellphone is a mystery. It was a year to the day later that all remains were identified. Cell phones accompanied the remains of Doctor Carson, his wife, Calista, and his brother-in-law, Mark Weyerhauser. Cell phone records indicated no calls were made by any phones owned by the family after 10:36 pm Monday, September 10th, 2001, when a call was made from Doctor Carson's phone to his sister Pippin's cell phone. The call lasted 45.6 seconds.

The funerals of the entire family were almost ignored by the press which had its collective attention on the cowardly terrorist attacks of 9/11. But every year on September 11th, thousands of memorial letter and cards come from his former patients who have benefited from the valve he designed and perfected.

Profits made from the sale of Doctor Carson's tunable valve are distributed twice yearly by Berkshire Hathaway chairman, Mr Warren Buffett, to the Canadian Heart Research Fund. To date more than $350 million has been donated.

Now that you've read the story, you know why I included this as an afterword. And why this could not have been published during the lifetimes of the Carson family.

Trey told me he felt his life might the basis of a novel and he said if he published his memoir he would call it A Novel Life. I thought it was appropriate then. Now, after learning of the intense family drama, I am absolutely sure that the good doctor was right again.

ZACK AND BARRIE PIPPIN'S TWO KIDS Sara and Mark jr (change from three to two earlier) AND WREN'S Lucas and Eliza TWO KIDS

Doctor Carson's Nobel Medal for Medicine, awarded posthumously, and accepted by Ron Paris with Zack and Barrie, in December 2001, is on display at the University of Toronto's Lucas 'Uncle Lou' Carson Memorial Wing for Bio-Medical Research in Toronto, Canada. The members of Dr Carson's research team decided to donate the million dollar prize to the Carolinian Canada Coalition, an organization which cares for the unique nature of Southwestern Ontario which Trey loved so dearly.

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Donate to the Dr Trey Carson Archive Fund. Help preserve the thousands of pages, photos and drawings that memorialize the life of Canada's Nobel Laureate Family Doctor.