TWO mornings later, Daniel, to Aiden’s dismay, again finished breakfast ahead of Conrad’s slumping to the table. He kissed the top of Aiden’s head, but Aiden stopped him before leaving. “I need to ask you something,” he said.
“You want me to pick up more of Ranger’s food?”
Fearful that what he was about to request might cause Daniel to buck and fight, he inhaled and spoke straight through. “I need to do important research for my article today. It’ll require that I travel. I feel badly about leaving Conrad alone. Can he please spend time with you at the shop today?”
“You can leave him by himself a few hours.” Daniel turned for the front door. “He’s not a baby.”
“But, Daniel, I’ll be gone most of the day.”
“Take him with you.”
“I’m going into Canada. I have a deadline coming up and I can’t put off this research any longer.”
“What about Nick?” Daniel said. “Didn’t we sit up two nights ago wanting him to spend more time with Conrad?”
“Do you think he’ll mind?”
“He seems smitten with him. Go ahead and call.”
Rehearsing in his head how to ask him to babysit with Conrad, Aiden speed dialed Nick’s cell phone while Daniel waited. He might suggest Nick show Conrad around his ranch and teach him the art of horse breeding. But the phone went straight to voice mail. Aiden did not bother to leave a message.
Turning to Daniel, he said, “He must be at some horse auction out of range.” He gave Daniel a pleading look. “Please, Daniel. Just for one day.”
Daniel sighed. “If you feel that it’s necessary. I’ll find a way to keep your patient busy. But I still say he can stay in the house alone and find something useful to do.”
Aiden kissed Daniel on the lips and his beard tickled his chin. “Thanks, Daniel. Don’t worry about waiting for him to wake up. I’ll drop him off on my way.”
After Daniel’s truck disappeared down the road, Aiden tiptoed down the hall and pressed his ear against the door to Conrad’s bedroom. He heard stirring. Aiden retreated into the kitchen and prepared him something to eat. Conrad appeared alert and healthy when he came to the breakfast table.
“Good morning, Conrad.”
Conrad sipped his steaming tea Aiden placed before him. “Good morning. That’s what I needed, a good, long sleep.”
While Conrad ate a Pop-Tart and microwaved french toast and sausage, Aiden brought up the subject of Conrad spending the day with Daniel at the shop. “I feel bad leaving you alone today while I’m working,” he said, sitting across from him. “Since you’re feeling better, why not spend the day with Daniel? You won’t mind, would you? Daniel said he’d love to show you how he works. You’ve asked about it enough times.”
Conrad focused on his empty plate coated with syrup. “If you want me to. But I’d rather stay here.”
“I’d feel better knowing you were being looked after. Isn’t that why you’re here? I help Daniel at the shop a lot. You’ll like it. It’ll give you something to do.”
“Why don’t I come with you?”
Aiden feared he’d suggest that. He wanted to work alone, without worrying about Conrad for a while. He wasn’t seeking to shuck Conrad off on Daniel. He merely needed to focus on his work without interruptions. He was going into a foreign country, and Conrad would be too much of a hassle.
Aiden had a prepared reply ready. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m going to be gone most the day, driving over a hundred miles round-trip on choppy roads. You won’t like it at all.”
Conrad shrugged and gazed out the window. “Whatever is easiest for you. I don’t want to be an inconvenience.”
Aiden forced a smile and gulped his orange juice. “I’m thinking about what’s best for you.”
They cleaned the breakfast dishes in silence, and Conrad took his time getting ready to leave. During the short drive to the Rose Crossing village center, Conrad appeared solemn.
He stayed at Daniel’s shop long enough to say hello to Phedra. She seemed delighted with seeing Conrad again after their brief meeting at Beadsman’s Deli. Daniel looked overburdened by Conrad’s presence. Aiden could do little about that. It was Daniel’s turn to mind Conrad awhile. Aiden needed to clear his head for what might be the most important fact-finding expedition of his entire career.
Forcing his mind away from Conrad and Daniel, he hopped in his truck and headed toward the border. He was forced to take roundabout US 2 to 89 since the Going-to-the-Sun shortcut through Glacier Park was still closed by heavy snows. He meandered along the hill country on the eastern edge of the park, and headed north into the Blackfeet Tribe. He stopped about ten miles before the border to fill his tank to avoid Canada’s exorbitant fuel costs and the pain of trying to convert liters into gallons.
Crossing into Canada was no easy matter. He had to pull off at the shared border station, like truckers at weigh stations. There were no ostentatious US flags welcoming drivers traveling from the north. A lone maple leaf fluttered in the wind on the Canadian side.
Tourist season was a few months away, and Aiden was the sole driver crossing northbound that morning. On the other side, he noted the American agents, who carried weapons, unlike their Canadian counterparts, showcasing more alertness. The US border agent interviewed a pair with Saskatchewan license plates. Behind them a line of five cars formed, all but one with Canadian tags.
The Canadian border official approached and motioned for Aiden to lower the window. She was emotionless, exhibiting the typical government agent expression—impassive, narrow-eyed—and robotic in her movements.
She asked him a slew of questions with a monotone voice. Aiden told her he was doing work for half a day and then would return to Montana before sunset. It was clear English was not her first language, and she seemed more ill-tempered with Aiden for his American accent than he should be for hers. Both asked each other to repeat themselves after each utterance. She went on to ask a series of questions: did he possess guns, ammunition, pepper spray.
The Canadian guard, who appeared Punjabi, maintained a lazy sneer, which Aiden associated with boredom and discontent. She checked his identification, vehicle registration, passport, back license plate, and returned his government documents. With a quick nod of her head, he drove across the imaginary line separating two nations.
He headed north through Alberta, chasing flat clover fields that kept the cold earth warm until the late spring planting season. Signs turned from mileage to the metric system and warned of random road stops. A fresh dusting of snow coated the hard dirt side roads that lead to unseen farmhouses. The even plateau settled around him, and to his distant left, where lay the two national parks shared by the United States and Canada, he watched the big sky expand and throb with northern intensity. A dark mass spanned the distant horizon, but could hardly be distinguished for the Rocky Mountains.
Tar seals crisscrossed the winter-battered road and jerked Aiden’s pickup truck with rhythmic bounces. Dwarf alders and shrubs filled his vision. The high road, near parallel with the remote mountain peaks, carried him farther into the northlands, and soon lulling hills rolled him forward.
He relied on his Magellan GPS system to guide him to the strip-mining company’s regional headquarters, about an hour north of the border. Traffic on the Canadian side was light. There were few establishments to stop and ask for directions should he get lost. Before long he turned into a long narrow gravel road and came to a locked gate with a prominent sign which read: “Private Property: NO TRESPASSING.”
Aiden parked the pickup next to the gate that surrounded the facility and walked to the small guard station. The guard stepped outside and met him halfway.
“What do you need?” he said in a thick western Canadian accent.
“I spoke with someone about an interview a few days ago,” Aiden said. “I was hoping to speak with the president of the company, Mr. McGregor.”
The guard looked skeptical. He was tall with big round dark eyes like an owl’s. “I don’t have any information about any visitors today.”
“Is there any way I can talk to Mr. McGregor or someone else inside? Just to see if they’ll let me in?”
Shaking his head, the guard said, “Don’t think so.” He glanced over Aiden’s shoulder to his GMC truck with the Montana tags. “What do you want here?”
“I work for a group of investors who are interested in strip mining,” he lied. “They send me out to interview people to access if they’re good bets. I’m sure I spoke with someone here the other day and they agreed to an appointment.”
The man regarded Aiden a moment. “Wait right here.” He left Aiden standing in the middle of the gravel road. The two-story facility, made from the local sandstone, partially obscured by surrounding conifers, looked like any other industrial building. Aiden peered around. The landscape stretched forever. The Rocky Mountains were farther west, out of sight.
He took out his digital camera and snapped a few pictures before the guard rushed to him.
“Hey, you can’t take photos. Stop that or I’ll have to confiscate it. You get out of here now. No one recalls talking with any investors.”
“Can you speak with me?”
“That’s not possible. Now get away from here.”
Aiden took one last look at the facility before turning for his truck. At least he was able to get a gander at the place, to absorb what type of company wanted to strip mine for coal that could forever alter the face of Glacier National Park. He knew it was a long shot to speak with anyone. But his day wasn’t quite over.
His Magellan led him southwest, toward the national parks. The company was setting up its mining operation along the Flathead River in the MacDonald Mountains.
Within an hour he made his way into British Columbia, crossing the snow-ridden Continental Divide, and, relying on bits of information he found on the Internet, he tried to locate the field office. After several wrong turns and being chased by a nasty hound that bit at his tires, he followed a gravel road down a sharp embankment and was relieved to see more gates and barbwire fencing. The mining site.
Behind the impenetrable fence, large bulldozers and mining equipment sat idle like a dinosaur exhibit. They were still in the preliminary stages. The company might begin work as early as the start of summer.
He stopped before clearing a bend in the driveway, hopped out of the cab of his truck, and snapped a few pictures of the site. Back behind the steering wheel, he hadn’t a chance to move forward in his pickup when two men with a fierce dog emerged from nowhere and impeded Aiden’s passage. One of the men motioned for Aiden to lower his window while the man holding back the snarling hound waited a few paces behind him.
“This is private property,” the robust man with a rough voice said.
Aiden smiled and feigned a helpless look. “I think I might be lost. What’s going on here?”
“None of your business.”
“I’m kind of curious now that I’m here. Could I speak with someone in charge of operations? Could I speak with you, even?”
“Take off.”
“I only want to ask questions, not accuse anyone of anything. Why do you have so much security?”
“We have to keep out people like you. You’ve got rogue reporter written all over your face.”
The second man struggled to hold back what Aiden guessed was a Rottweiler. “Pete, don’t talk to the guy. Send him on his way.”
The man named Pete turned back to Aiden. His suntanned face softened. “There’s nothing for you here. You better take off. You know how to get back to the border from here?”
Aiden persisted. “How long have you worked here, Pete?”
“We been set up for a year, waiting for the go ahead. Now get going.”
“Do you like working here, Pete?”
Glancing about with frantic eyes, Pete said, “I had better jobs.”
“Pete!” The man with the Rottweiler jockeyed closer. Pete stood in attention and leered at Aiden with squinty blue eyes.
“Look here, you have to take off or we’ll call out the municipal boys. They’re on our side of the law. Don’t you think otherwise.”
The Rottweiler seemed eager for action. Aiden grinned. “Thanks, Pete.” He handed him a business card. “Please give me a call if you think you’d like to talk. I’m available anytime.”
Pete eyeballed the card dangling between Aiden’s fingers. The hound reared up as if he wanted to bite a mosquito, and jerked his handler off balance. With his partner’s attention momentarily distracted, Pete snatched the card and slipped it in his shirt pocket. “Take off from here!”
Aiden backed out of the driveway, but before heading for the main road for Montana, he meandered his way around the dirt roads that wound higher into the mountains, hoping to get a better view of the mining operation. Most of the ancient logging and mining roads led to dead ends. Weeds and spindly bushes reclaimed the roads that at one time conveyed man and machine. His truck bounced and heaved until he feared he might snap his neck.
He parked near a small northern vista and peered through a thick grove of blue spruce where he spotted an unnatural orange color. Using his binoculars, he realized the orange was part of the plastic dust shield draped over barbwire fencing. Hidden behind had to be the secretive strip-mining site. On the other side, trees had clearly been felled to make way for workers and equipment.
By his estimation, the mining site spanned the size of the average Midwestern farm. He lowered the binoculars and glanced up at the sweeping mountain range that stretched into Glacier National Park, recalling the huge mining equipment he saw where Pete stood guard. An operation so vast and with enough heavy machinery might take down a mountain in a matter of years, like Ranger Craig Ellis warned. He snapped several pictures and climbed inside his truck.
Satisfied he’d seen enough, Aiden found Route 93, on which he headed for the Montana border, where he’d most likely encounter a far worse rigmarole to enter the United States than he faced crossing into Canada.
DANIEL steadied the auger bit over the oak wood and drilled three quick sessions to form a small burrow. Next he placed a wooden divot into the groove and hammered it in. He repeated this step five more times to attach the console’s first leg to the table frame before Conrad’s wandering distracted him.
“If this is boring you,” he said, swinging around the table so that he could focus on the second leg, “I can find something for you to do.”
“Sure, I’d like to help out. What else will I do while I’m here?”
Daniel nodded toward the far corner. “There are stacks of plywood that need to be set upright so I can judge their sizes. Do you mind? That is, if you’re up for it.”
“I’m up for it. No problem.”
“Try to group them based on size and width. They aren’t too heavy.”
“I’m not worried about that. I can handle it.”
“There are some canvas gloves on the table over there.”
Conrad slipped on the gloves and worked at his task without dropping too many of the boards, allowing Daniel to return to drilling grooves for the dowels. They both worked without speaking until Conrad seemed to grow bored with his task.
“Do you like spending time alone like this each day?” he asked, laying the boards one by one against the wall.
Daniel hammered a dowel in place. “I always prefer to work in solitude.”
“The Amish are like that, I guess.”
“Like what?”
“They like to be isolated.”
“Depends on the Amish.”
Conrad snickered. “That’s what Aiden said.” After Daniel finished drilling three more grooves, Conrad, his breath shortening as he worked, asked, “What’s it like to be Amish?”
Daniel lifted the auger bit, blew off the shavings, and wiped his brow with the back of his hand. “It’s just an orthodox religious denomination. Nothing special.”
“It is different, you have to admit. Must have been tough being gay and raised in such an austere religion.”
The door was shut tight and Phedra by the cash register could not hear their conversation, thank goodness; still, Daniel did not wish to get personal with this man. “For sure it was difficult.”
“Does your family know?”
“I figure they do by now.”
“Aiden said something about you not being able to see them anymore. They call it the shunning, don’t they?”
Daniel aimed the auger into the wood and drilled. He almost went through the leg and he quickly switched off the drill. Des is shlecht, he cursed himself. Squinting his right eye into the groove, he figured he hadn’t wasted good wood. He continued drilling two more grooves and inserted the wooden dowels.
“Ya,” he said, pausing between hammering, “they call it the shunning. But I’ve been shunned for leaving the Church, not for anything else.”
“I don’t talk to my family much either, but for me it’s my own decision.” Conrad stopped stacking the plywood and glanced out the garage door windows. “They are not the most pleasant people.”
“Sometimes it’s for the best, one way or the other.”
Shrugging, Conrad set back to stacking the boards. “You should write a book.”
“And why would I do that?”
“People would be interested in reading what it was like to grow up gay and Amish. Maybe Aiden will write it. He’s the writer in the family, right? You can tell him your story.”
Daniel had never imagined Aiden using his God-given gifts as a writer to reveal their secrets to the world. He’d have to confront him and make sure that never happened. He pushed the drill harder, wood chips flying off the flute.
“I’d love to read about how you guys met. Aiden hasn’t told me much about it.”
“It’s a long story.”
Conrad chuckled. “That’s what Aiden says too. Here we are alone all day. I have time. Go ahead. Tell me.”
Daniel had no intention of disclosing to Conrad—Aiden’s ex-boyfriend—how he and Aiden had battled their emotions to overcome the unbearable desire to be near each other against enormous odds when they first met in Illinois. Even if he had followed through with his second marriage to Tara Hostetler, he would have lugged around his love for Aiden like a sack full of melons until the day of his death. Like their lovemaking, that part of their relationship was for no one else’s ears. But he saw no harm in telling Conrad how they met.
He lifted his head from his work and eyed Conrad for the first time since assembling the console. “Aiden had come to Frederick County in Illinois to write about the Amish.”
“That’s how you met? Really? That’s so cute.”
Reluctant to reveal too much emotion, Daniel continued. “I suppose I could see his kindness and loving nature, and that’s what drew me to him.” That and his honey-glazed eyes and raven-black curly hair, he wanted to say. He grinned and studied Conrad. “Aiden saved my family, did you know that?” Proud of what Aiden had done, Daniel chose not to hold back from recounting the events that proved Aiden an exceptional man. “He swerved his car in front of an oncoming pickup that would have crashed into our buggy, filled with my entire family. We might have all been killed.”
“I had no idea it was anything that dramatic.”
“Aiden is a wonderful man.”
“Did you two fool around in the middle of Amish country after that?”
“Fool around? Nothing like that.” Daniel turned his back to Conrad and began drilling. His arms moved up and down in fast rhythm that kept his mind focused and away from the ire that threatened to erupt against Conrad. “Is that your business?” he said above the vibration of the drill as it came to a stop.
“I’m only curious. I think it’s hot. But you’re right, I guess. It’s none of my business. No doubt why you guys took to each other, though. You’re both hot and down-to-earth.”
The word “hot” again. Daniel heard the term often but was unsure if it meant something he wanted to be. “Dank u,” he said, reverting to Pennsylvania German.
“Did Aiden ever tell you how he and I met?”
Daniel inhaled the smell of heated wood and cautiously glimpsed at Conrad over his shoulder. “I don’t think he bothered with details.”
Conrad continued to build several disorganized piles. “We met in college. I think he saw me in my ROTC uniform and it was love at first sight. We really hit it off.”
Turning back to his work, Daniel felt Conrad shift behind him. The room currents moved to his left, giving Daniel a chill along his spine.
“I guess he told you how we broke up?” Conrad went on, his voice closer.
“Not in so many words, but I pieced together the story from what he’s mentioned of the past.”
“I’m a different person now,” Conrad said with a haughty tone, which caused Daniel to rear up on the drill and nearly break off the bit. “If I knew then what I know now, I’d never have left him. You’re a lucky man, Daniel.”
The silence Daniel craved suddenly irked him. A vacuum-like stillness sucked out the energy. His limbs grew weak and tired.
In a flash, Daniel envisioned what Aiden might have experienced while living with Conrad in Chicago. He almost wanted to defend him, as if Aiden were forging through the anguish again. Conrad and Aiden had been engaged in Englisher terms. Like Daniel and Tara Hostetler back in Illinois. But Tara Hostetler never moved in with Daniel and Aiden and demanded most of their time.
“I don’t believe in luck,” Daniel said. “I do feel that, despite everything, God has smiled upon me.”
“God?” Conrad made a huffing noise, similar to the sound a bear makes when angered. “No offense, but it’s hard for someone like me to believe in a god.”
“Shouldn’t you believe in Him more so now?”
“Why should I? My life has been horrible. Yes, I take responsibility. But if you’d known my family. I was given nothing. I entered the world on my own. I suppose I’ll leave it that way too.”
“You don’t worry about eternal damnation?”
“Don’t tell me you still believe in all that stuff. I mean, okay, I can deal with thinking there’s a god. But to think you’re here to reserve a spot in a fantasy place called Heaven, especially after how your life is. You’re gay and have been shunned. According to most religions, we’ll both rot in hell.”
Daniel suppressed an anxious grunt. “Because others have kept us from their lives does not mean that God will. He does not shun.” Or so Daniel had to believe. Not for his sake alone, but for Aiden’s. How could a man—someone willing to sacrifice his life and now give up so much for his former boyfriend—be forsaken by a loving god?
To his surprise, Daniel sounded similar to his old minister and nemesis, his cousin on his mother’s side, the Reverend Amos Yoder, yet without Daniel’s broadminded undertones. Preaching wasn’t Daniel’s strongest point. Being a reclusive man, he stewed in his own thoughts and beliefs and likewise allowed others to wallow in theirs.
Thinking of Aiden for inspiration, Daniel realized he must go easy on Conrad. He was a man battling serious illness. He’d seen even the Amish bemoan God for bestowing them with hardship or taking from them someone they loved. His father, who he once overheard confess to Daniel’s mother that he’d rather not pray for a few days after the death of Leah, turned his back on God before.
“You really are Amish, aren’t you?” Conrad said, his voice back to its somewhat dull tone while he set the last of the boards against the wall. Daniel noticed he’d done a haphazard job and would have to rearrange them.
“I figure I’ll always be Amish.”
“That why you still keep the beard?”
Instinctively Daniel touched his freshly trimmed beard. “It’s part of my identity.”
Phedra knocked on the door and popped her head inside. “I’m going to lunch now, okay?” she said in English, most likely for Conrad’s sake. She eyed him like she had earlier. Her brown eyes wide and expectant. Conrad grinned at her.
Aiden’s ex-boyfriend seemed the type with a big enough ego that he’d enjoy the attentions of any interested suitor, including a Hutterite woman. Daniel conceded he was good looking. Cancer had yet to eat away at his sharp features and thick reddish-blond hair. Phedra, at the age she yearned for courtship, returned his smile. She bowed out of the room after Daniel okayed her leaving for lunch and he returned to fastening the console legs.
“You’re lucky, I have to admit,” Conrad resumed saying, standing by his side.
Daniel restrained a slight shudder. “So are you, if you think about it.”
“How so?”
“You have treatments that likely will save your life, administered by highly trained and caring professionals. And you appear no worse for wear.” He adjusted the torque, lowered the auger bit, and burrowed two grooves. “My sister took ill when she was only six,” he said after drilling. “I know what illness is like. I lived with it back in Illinois.” He peered at Conrad from feet to head. “You can walk, you have the strength to stack piles of wood, and you still have a nice head of hair.”
Conrad stroked his hair. “They say it could happen any time. Sometimes it takes weeks, sometimes days. So you like my hair, huh? You hope I don’t lose it?”
Daniel eyed him one last time before returning to his drilling. “I’ve seen worse mops,” he mumbled.
Conrad chuckled and he helped Daniel hold the underside of the table while Daniel hammered the dowels in place.