CHAPTER 7

As she approached the door of her house, Allyson heard her parents’ voices through the screen. The tone of their voices told her something was up. She’d just seen her mom a few hours ago, watching the grain elevator fall. After the crowd had dispersed, she’d gone to Husky House with Amber and Jeff. Amber’s mom had picked them up and given her a ride home. Now Allyson opened the door with a slow, careful motion, letting it close behind her without a sound. She stood in the doorway with her shoes on. If she moved, they might hear her.

“They were coming out of the lawyer’s,” her mother said.

Her father sighed. “I think I have an idea why they went there.”

Her father told her mother he’d looked through Al’s shoeboxes, trying to decipher Al’s records over the years. He was angry that he was the second one to do it, trying to follow up after Craig and Linda had already looked at it.

“It should have been done together,” Gord muttered, but Allyson could still hear him. Some of the notes he understood and some of them he couldn’t make heads or tails of. He searched through Abby and Al’s entire house until he found a ledger in the nightstand next to Al’s side of the bed. He took the red Hilroy notebook to the hospital to show to Abby.

“She told me that she didn’t want to look at it,” Gord said. “She said he was the one in charge of the books, and she had no head for figures.”

Everyone in the family knew about Abby’s slight number dyslexia. When she dialled phone numbers, she said the numbers out loud to make sure she got them right. Abby hated making phone calls and would try to get anyone, even her grandchildren, to dial a number for her.

“I’m still trying to understand what Dad was doing,” Gord said. “I went to the bank today and tried to get them to sort it all out. They told me I had to go to a lawyer. I guess Craig went first. He tried to take the notebook away from me, but I told him I needed to do this,” said Gord. “I’m the one who is supposed to be in charge here.”

“You’re the oldest,” Donna said. “And you’re more involved with the farm any way. Craig’s always off trucking or doing work for other people.”

Gord sighed. “Ever since this BSE stuff happened and Dad died, I can’t concentrate on anything. I haven’t even picked up a book in weeks. Any time I have a spare minute, I’m watching the news and trying to figure out what’s happening with the border and whether we’ll be making good money with cattle sales soon. I can’t remember anything. I’m just so tired all the time, so tired I can barely stand it.”

There was a long silence. Allyson’s leg itched, but she worried that if she leaned down to scratch it, they might hear her move. She didn’t want them to know she was there.

“What are you trying to say, Gord?” Donna said. “Spit it out.”

“Our money situation is not great,” he said. ‘We’re not doing well. In fact, I thought we were doing a lot better. If we can’t sell our cows for a good price, we might be screwed.”

“How bad is it?”

Allyson strained her ears, trying to hear her dad’s answer. If he knew she was listening, he wouldn’t be happy.

“Dad did so many things wrong,” Gord said. “He didn’t take out life insurance. It was like he didn’t want to think about dying, so he never even made any plans for it. And now we’re screwed. Things could have been so much easier. We might actually end up in trouble,” he said. “We’re going to have to dip into our savings. Do you think Anita could give you more hours at the store?”

“I’ll see,” Donna said. “But I can’t cut into Bonnie’s shifts. She’s got four kids at home.”

“I’m having a hard time getting everything done,” Gord said. “Balancing this workload without Dad is tricky.”

“Ask for help,” Donna said. “Craig could be doing more around here, couldn’t he? And what about the kids?”

Gord coughed a little. “Colton might be able to help out a bit more. Same with Allyson. Chloe’s got that job,” he said. “Craig said she’s picking up lots of hours. She needs to have money for school next year.”

They said a few sentences, but all Allyson heard was mumbling and her name. She’d probably missed the most important part.

“I’m going to talk to Craig,” Gord said. “Find out exactly why he was at the lawyer’s. I think I know, but confirmation doesn’t hurt.”

“What day is Abby getting moved?”

“Sunday,” Gord said. “They’ll bring her to the lodge in one of those handi-buses. Maybe we can go there and get some flowers and bring some of her quilts. Make her room seem nice and homey.”

“Why didn’t you tell me she was being moved?” Donna asked.

“I thought I did,” Gord said. “Must have forgot. I got to take a piss.”

Allyson heard the shift of a chair and the sound of her father walking out of the room. If he looked down when he crossed the hall, he might see her. When her dad wanted to end a conversation, he needed to pee. Either that or he’d go out into the yard and check the animals.

She opened the front door and went out into the yard herself, eager to look at their bottle baby. The red calf had been so small when its mother died. She was living in a pen with a couple steers and some heifers Gord wanted to sell at the auction mart. The calf was a few months old now. She liked people and wasn’t too weird because she had been raised with other cattle.

Allyson reached her hands through the fence and petted the calf on its head. The calf brought its wet mouth up and tried to suckle on her fingers. Allyson tried not to look toward her grandparents’ house. Whenever she was out in the yard, she expected Grandpa Al to step out of the house, wearing his shit-covered boots and a big grin on his face. The memories kept sneaking up on her. A few years ago, he’d taken her out in the truck and taught her how to drive. When she was small, he had called her “my girl” and gave her piggy-back rides. He always told that since she spent so much time studying and reading and worked so hard, she was going to blow the rest of the family out of the water.

“A man would be lucky to marry a girl that’s as pretty and smart as you,” he said. “You’re a prize.”

Grandpa Al was never stingy with hugs. He liked to take his granddaughters into town for hot chocolate with whipped cream on top. At the town parade, they’d sit and watch the floats go by and half of the town would come up and say hi to Al.

“These are my girls,” he would say, patting her and Chloe on the head. “My pretty, smart girls. Aren’t I the luckiest man in the world?”

If Hollywood could have seen Grandpa Al’s smile, they would have made him a movie star, Gramma Abby said. He was better looking than Clint Eastwood. Better looking than Gary Cooper.

“I fell in love with that smile,” she said. “I still get a tickle every time he smiles at me.”

Allyson visited Gramma Abby about once a week in the hospital. It was too hard to see her grandma so listless. Besides, she needed to rest. Gramma Abby would talk, but then she’d go back to sleep. They could only visit her for short periods. She was out of bed now, sitting up in a wheelchair. They could push her around the hospital and put her chair near the window so she could look out. Her room faced the parking lot, which wasn’t the best view, especially for someone who loved the country, but it was something. The nurses said Abby’s rehabilitation was going well and she had more mobility in her right hand. But she would never walk again.

Allyson pulled her fingers out of the calf’s mouth. The calf’s eyes widened and it strained forward, reaching for her fingers again.

“You’re not getting anything from me now,” she said, her voice soft. She started thinking about Jeff. She’d had a good time with him and Amber at the elevator. He’d given her another graphic novel, a collection of stories about “Tank Girl,” a tough girl who was in love with a kangaroo and drove around in a tank. The comics were wild, a little too sexual in a way. When Allyson sat up in her room late at night, reading them, she felt uneasy, as if she was reading something that she shouldn’t be reading.

Jeff had been so kind to her lately. There were several mornings when he had come by her locker to give her books or just to say hi. Sometimes she thought about him when she went to sleep, thinking about what she would say to him if he was at her locker the next day. Did he like her? She thought he might, but the whole thing was confusing. Should she ask him? Should she ask Amber what to do? She’d never talked about boys with Amber. It just wasn’t one of the things they talked about. Was Jeff just being nice to her because he was her friend? Or did he want something more?

Allyson heard the sound of a truck on gravel, and looked up to see Chloe and Colton in Colton’s black truck. He always kept his car clean and shiny, and had paid a lot of money buying flashy rims for his wheels.

She took her hands off the calf’s head, wiped her sticky fingers on her jeans and walked away from the fence. The calf, unsure what to do, followed her along the fence line for a minute. Chloe and Colton got out of the truck and went into their respective houses. Allyson started back to her own house, kicking up dust with her shoes as she walked. She opened the door to her home and went inside. The sound of the television blared from downstairs. Colton was in the kitchen, rummaging around for something to eat. The fridge door closed and the cupboards banged, and Colton stomped downstairs to the television room. She poked her head into the kitchen. A mustard covered knife sat next to a pile of crumbs on the side of the sink. Her mother was going to have a bird if she saw his mess. Allyson thought about cleaning it up, but didn’t. Let Colton face up to it. God knows he got away with enough stuff around here.

She climbed the stairs to her room and pulled her trumpet out of its case, admiring its gold shininess and the curve of its bell. She should draw a soldier with a trumpet. Or maybe she’d just sketch the trumpet itself, all its golden lines and the white mother-of-pearl on the keys.

She heard footsteps outside the door.

“Did you have a good time at the elevator?” her mother asked.

Allyson nodded.

“There’s some hamburger soup in the fridge if you want some dinner,” her mother said.

Ever since the border closed, her mother had been cooking beef all the time, even more than normal. Everybody in town was cooking and eating beef. Joe’s was selling more steaks and hamburgers than ever before, as people tried to show their support for the ranchers in the area.

Her mother walked into the room and ran her fingers over her daughter’s hair.

“You okay, sweetie?” she asked. “So much has happened and we haven’t really talked about it.”

“I’m fine,” Allyson said, pulling her head away from her mother’s hand.

“You sleeping okay?”

“I sleep. I have to read a lot before I fall asleep, but I’m sleeping,” she said.

“Well, if you want to talk,” her mother started.

“I need to practice,” Allyson said, cutting her off.

“All right,” her mother said. She turned to leave the room. “You’re a good girl,” she said, as she stood in the doorway. “The best.”

Allyson didn’t say anything. Instead, she raised her trumpet to her lips and started to play. Afterward, she put on her pyjamas and slipped down under the covers. Tonight she was going to re-read The Wizard of Oz. It was one of her favourite movies, and the book was almost as good. Grandpa Al had bought this copy for her. It was a beautiful hardcover with illustrations, pristine except for the small coffee stain on the back where Colton had put a coffee cup on top of it. She opened the pages and smelled the book. She could always lose herself in a book.

There was one thing that always bugged her about The Wizard of Oz. She could never understand why Dorothy would want to go back to Kansas, back to a boring farm. In Oz, she had friends and adventures. Sure, she might miss Aunty Em and Uncle Henry, but she would get over it. Why would she want to go back to a farm where nothing happened? Allyson would pick Oz over Kansas any day.

*

A week after the family moved Abby into the lodge, they brought her home for a Sunday dinner. She refused to go into her own house, and wouldn’t have been able to manage all the stairs in Gord and Donna’s house, so they decided to have dinner at Craig and Linda’s. Allyson watched from Craig and Linda’s front window as her dad lifted Gramma down from the truck. Gramma looked so small and broken in his arms, like a tiny bird. Gramma Abby was in her late sixties, which was impossibly old, but ever since the accident, she looked ancient. When she moved her hand or her head, her movements were slow, as if she was pushing her limbs through water. Allyson wondered how such big people like her dad and Craig could have emerged from such a small woman.

Her dad put Gramma Abby in the wheelchair and rolled her across the yard. When they got to the steps, her dad lifted Gramma out of the wheelchair again and carried her up the steps while Craig carried the wheelchair. Linda, who was waiting by the window, went to open the door.

“So glad you’re here,” she said, watching as Abby was carried past her. “Dinner is almost ready.”

“Nice to see you, Gramma,” Allyson said. Colton and Chloe were in the TV room. Her mother was in the kitchen. Craig and Gord settled Abby back into the wheelchair. Then they placed a striped blue and white afghan over her lap. She clutched at it with her good hand as they wheeled her into the dining room.

“Might as well get you set up right away,” Craig said.

“Maybe we can start taking you around to see some of your friends for visits,” Gord said, sitting down at the table. Abby ­didn’t say anything. Allyson stood in the doorway of the dining room, watching everyone.

“Why bother?” Abby said. “Anybody wants to see me, they can just come to the lodge.” She looked down at her hands. “Not too many people want to come see a cripple.”

Gord put his hand on her shoulder. “Don’t talk like that, Mom.”

“It’ll just be a few minutes until dinner,” Linda called from the kitchen. “Donna is just mashing the potatoes.”

Gord walked into the kitchen, away from his mother. Craig left too, leaving Allyson alone with her grandma.

She thought about leaving the room, but that seemed awkward. So she sat down at the table, across from her grandma. The two of them sat in silence.

“Go wash your hands,” Donna called from the kitchen. “Dinner is in two minutes.”

Gord came in from the kitchen, carrying a carton of milk and a basket of buns.

Linda walked into the dining room, hands full with a ceramic dish full of green beans. “Don’t you like the new table cloth I bought?” she asked, setting the beans down and stroking the yellow and blue plaid cloth. “It’s so sunny and cheerful.”

Abby just grunted. Allyson stared at her. Who was this ­person?

There was the clatter of feet as Chloe and Colton entered the room.

“Hi, Gramma,” Chloe said. She walked over and kissed her gramma on the cheek. Colton jerked his head at her in a nod, and sat down at the table. He poured himself a glass of milk and gulped it down.

“I’ll sit beside her in case she needs anything,” Donna said. “I can help her out.”

“I’ll be okay,” Abby said, her voice hoarse and raspy.

Allyson wished this wasn’t happening. This was not the homecoming that she wanted for her grandma. It was as if her dad had wheeled in a corpse, not the chatty, smiling, busy woman Allyson remembered. She tried to remember if she’d ever been to a family dinner where Abby had been the one waiting at the table. She hadn’t. Abby was always the one in the kitchen, carrying things out, making sure the kids had milk, that everyone had everything they needed. If Grandpa Al stopped by the stove to taste something, she swatted him on the behind with a tea towel.

“Are you glad to be home, Gramma?” Allyson asked, touching her Gramma’s good hand. Abby pulled it back. “I’m not home,” she said. “Home is next door, with Al. And I can’t go back there again.”

Before Allyson could answer, Gord came in from the kitchen with a platter of roast beef. Donna followed behind, carrying mashed potatoes. Craig entered the dining room, a beer in each hand.

“I got one for you,” he said to Gord, putting it in front of him. The family assembled themselves around the table. Donna sat on one side of Abby and Linda on the other.

“Do you need me to cut up your meat for you?” Linda said.

Abby looked at her. “I can only use one of my hands properly,” she said. “What do you think?”

Linda drew back, as if surprised by the way Abby had spoken to her.

“I’ll make you up a plate,” Donna said, patting her mother in law on the shoulder.

The family was quiet for a few minutes, passing dishes around the table, loading up on food.

“So, Colton,” Craig said. “How is the repair business going?”

“Good,” Colton said, as he took a bite of homemade bun. “It’s a little slower though. Boss says everything has slowed down since the border closed. They see it everywhere. A lot of people don’t have money to spend.”

Abby picked up her fork and speared a piece of roast beef. “The whole thing is a damn shame,” she said.

“Oh, I forgot,” Linda said and she bounced up from the table and left the room. She returned a few minutes later with a pair of knitted yellow and green slippers.

“Mabel Jacobson gave me these for you,” she said, holding them in front of Abby. The colour combination reminded Allyson of the time she looked into a Kleenex when she had a sinus infection. “She thought you might like them. Are your feet cold? Do you want me to put them on you now?”

Abby shook her head. Allyson wondered if her gramma thought they were ugly too. She might be biting her tongue to keep from saying something.

“How are the cows?” Abby said.

“A bull got out a couple days ago,” Craig said. “We had to chase him all over to try and get him back in. We lost a few hours of work.”

“Which one?” Abby asked.

“Top Gun.”

“That boy’s got a temper,” Abby said. “Al didn’t like him. You should sell him.”

“Maybe we will,” Gord said. “If we could get any money for him. That’s just not happening right now.”

“Well,” Abby said. “Just hang onto the farm. Just keep it up and running. That’s what Al would want. This is his legacy. He’s built this whole place.”

She stared down at her plate. She poked at the roast beef and green beans.

“Is everything okay?” Donna asked. “Do you need anything?”

Abby started to cry. “It feels wrong to be here without Al,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever had dinner with all of you without him. And I didn’t even like seeing my house, knowing he’s not going to be there.”

Donna stood up and stroked Abby’s back. “Shh,” she said. “It’s okay.”

Allyson couldn’t remember the last time she’d ever seen Gramma Abby cry. She had no patience for tears. She always mocked Donna, the bawl baby of the family, whenever she cried at a tear-jerker movie.

“What’s up with Clay?” Linda asked. “He still thinking about becoming a vet?”

She was trying to change the subject. Clay was her gramma’s favourite and she stopped crying and perked up at the mention of his name. She tried to pretend that he wasn’t her favourite, but they all knew he was.

“His marks aren’t good enough,” Donna said.

Donna was still rubbing Abby’s back. Abby turned to look at her, annoyed and Donna stopped, and sat back down. Her fork lay on a mound of mashed potatoes, untouched.

“Guess you’re our last hope for a vet in this family,” Linda said with a smile, looking at her daughter. “You’ve got the marks.”

Allyson wasn’t offended. If anyone in the family would be a vet it would be Chloe, since she loved animals more than ­anyone.

Abby, who had stopped crying, snorted. “She’s your last hope for everything.” Her voice turned dark and mean. “That’s what happens when you only have one kid.”

Linda’s face turned red. She turned her head down, as if she wanted to bury herself in her plate. She slouched forward, as if she had been punched.

“Too bad you couldn’t have any more babies,” Abby said.

Craig stood up. “Mom, that’s enough.”

Allyson looked across the table at Chloe. Her cousin looked back at her, her eyebrows raised. If Chloe had spoken out loud, she would have said, “Holy shit, I can’t believe this is happening.”

Allyson had heard about the dead babies, especially about the son who had been born after Chloe, before she herself had been born. He only lived a short while and died from something called Sudden Infant Death Syndrome. Chloe’s brother had been named James Albert. Allyson had never seen a picture of him, but Clay told her the baby had red hair, like Grandpa Al. He was buried in the family plot too. He was one of those things you didn’t talk about.

“And you,” Abby said, turning to Donna. There were little bits of white saliva flecks around Abby’s mouth. Her pink lipstick smudged around her lips. In the past, Abby would have never appeared with makeup that was less than perfect. “You can’t do anything right.”

Chloe stood up.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” she said to her ­grandma.

“Chloe,” Craig said, his voice a sharp bark. “Go to your room.”

“You can’t order me to my room,” Chloe said. “I’m seventeen.”

“Don’t talk back to your grandma,” Craig said. “And sit back down or go to your room.”

“I don’t know why we’re all pretending everything is normal,” Chloe said. “Because it’s not. This isn’t normal.”

Allyson caught her brother’s eye. She didn’t dare move. Colton’s eyes usually looked heavy-lidded, as if he’d smoked a bunch of weed, but right now, they were wide open.

Chloe left the room.

“You’re grounded,” Craig called. “Don’t you dare leave the house.”

Allyson heard the sound of her cousin’s feet as she stomped up the stairs. She looked down at her plate. Her food no longer looked appealing at all.

Colton and Gord kept on eating, as if they were trying to pretend a hell mouth hadn’t opened up around them.

“I want to go back to the lodge,” Abby said. “I’m tired.”

“Why don’t we take you upstairs?” Gord said. “I can carry you up and you can have a little lie down.”

“Why don’t you finish your dinner first?” Craig said.

“Just take me home,” Abby said. “It’s too hard for me to be here.”

Donna looked at her husband. “Maybe you should just take her,” she said.

Gord stood up. “Come on, Mom,” he said. “Let’s go.”

Linda started towards the kitchen. “I’ll put together a doggie bag for her,” she said. “She can take some of that back to the lodge.”

Gord turned to his brother. “Come on,” he said. “I’m going to need your help here.”

Allyson faced her mother, wondering what was going to happen. Her mother glanced first at her, and then at Colton. “Just keep eating your dinner,” she said. “Some of us might as well enjoy it.” She wasn’t eating either.

Allyson kept her head down while her dad wheeled Abby out of the room. Linda was already in the kitchen. Allyson heard the bang of cupboard doors and the clatter of dishes as her aunt moved around. Colton picked up his fork. When he stabbed a few green beans, the tines of his fork scraped across the plate. Allyson looked at her mother, wanting to ask to be excused. But when she saw the expression on her mother’s face, she knew better than to speak.

*

The next day, Allyson ran into her cousin in the barn. Chloe sat on some hay bales, scratching the tortoise shell cat she called Buffy. Willow, the orange cat, sat on her lap, purring.

“Come sit with me,” Chloe said.

Chloe hadn’t asked her to do anything like that in months. Allyson sat down next to her cousin. Her hoodie rode up and a piece of hay poked her in the back. It was chilly. The snow would be coming soon. Maggie was curled up behind Chloe, sleeping.

“I’m so glad I’m getting out of here,” said Chloe. “I can’t wait to leave. It’s going to be so nice to be in Edmonton.”

Maggie stood up and came over to Allyson. Her doggy smell was soothing and familiar. Her calm brown eyes studied Allyson.

“I can’t believe Gramma Abby,” Chloe said. “Pretty soon everyone is just going to start blurting out shit. It’s like Grandpa Al used to say. You can bury something, but it never stays buried. It doesn’t go into the ground. Eventually, it all comes to the ­surface.”

This was the most Chloe had said to her in a long time. Maybe, if she just listened, her cousin would tell her why she barely talked to her any more. Soon her cousin would leave the farm and would have a whole other life, just like Clay. When Clay came home, he talked to her about his friends. About how he’d gone to the Sikh temple with his roommate, Arjun, and how Arjun’s dad wore a turban and his mom had a long black braid that hung down her back. He had gone to their house and eaten something called samosas. Soon Chloe would have a whole different life like that too. Chloe would take the LRT by herself and go shopping on Whyte Avenue. Maybe eventually she’d have an apartment, and buy wines with intricate designs on the labels. She would never come back to the farm.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” Chloe said. Willow jumped off her lap and ran across the barn.

“I am listening,” Allyson said.

“You’re daydreaming again,” said Chloe. “That’s probably the only way you can stand being here. I don’t know what you’ve been hearing from your parents, but shit is about to get ugly. Last night was just the start of it. We’re sitting on a powder keg.”

“What do you mean?” Allyson said. She was lost. Chloe was talking another language, an adult language, walking around in the adult world like she owned it.

“Grandpa Al didn’t have a will,” said Chloe. “He owned everything. Dad and Uncle Gord worked for him like employees. That’s why Dad has always been trying to do so much off the farm. Get some of his own money. Save up for me to go to school. We’re not scrambling around like you guys.”

Allyson’s face was hot and her stomach hurt. She curled her fingers in Maggie’s fur, digging down deep.

“I know it’s hard to hear this,” Chloe said. She leaned over, rustled around in her purse and found a pack of cigarettes. She pulled a single cigarette out of the crumpled red pack, stuck it between her lips and lit it with a lighter. She inhaled, then exhaled with a deep sigh.

“Smoking is so bad for you,” Allyson said. How had Chloe forgotten the pact they had made years ago, the promise they had made to each other not to smoke?

“Makes me feel kind of alive right now,” Chloe said.

“How do you know all this stuff?” Allyson said. “I mean, all the stuff with the family.”

“I just listen,” Chloe said, exhaling. “If you pay attention, someone flaps their gums at some point.”

Chloe finished smoking and stubbed out the cigarette, taking care to put the dead butt in her pocket.

“I feel sorry for you,” Chloe said, as she stood up. “I’m counting down the days until I leave.”

She picked up her purse and walked out of the barn.