CHAPTER 8

Gord came into the house, slammed the door behind him and clomped up the stairs to the kitchen.

“God damn it,” he said. “Donna, I finally found out what Craig is doing.”

It was the day after the family dinner that ended with Abby’s outburst. Donna pulled a sheet of chocolate chip cookies out of the oven and placed it on the stove to cool. The chips were swollen and misshapen, like clods of dirt. They would probably taste okay. She couldn’t eat much these days, but everyone else seemed to be eating more.

“What?” she asked, as Gord came into the kitchen.

“Craig told me why they were at the lawyer’s when we were talking about what happened with Mom last night.” He grabbed a glass out of the cupboard, turned on the tap and filled the glass with water.

Donna waited for him to speak. He walked over to the oven and put his finger on a cookie.

“Careful,” she said. But it was too late. Gord pulled his hand back as a stray chocolate chip stuck to his fingers.

“They were checking the land title,” he said. “They did it without us.”

Gord gulped down some water, filled his glass again and drank some more. She took a cloth from the sink and wiped the counter, even though she’d wiped it down twice already. The kids always teased her about her constant counter wiping. Colton said he left piles of crumbs behind so Donna had something to wipe up.

“They were talking to the lawyer to see who can get on the title after Mom dies. She’s the owner of the land now. So Craig wanted to see if he can own it, or if we have to co-own it.”

“Well, it sounds like he’s taking care of things,” Donna said. “Thinking ahead.”

Gord set his glass down on the table and stared at her. “God damn,” he said. “It’s like you have been living somewhere else for over twenty years. You’ve been on the farm for over half your life, but you don’t pay attention to what’s happening. It’s frustrating.”

“I don’t want a lecture right now,” Donna said.

“He didn’t bother to ask me about going to the lawyer. He could be trying to get it all in his name. I feel like they’re playing us, doing all this stuff without telling me,” Gord said. His face was red and sweaty.

Donna felt as though she was swimming through deep water, unable to get to the surface. Every time she tried to understand something happening at the farm, with the money or the cows, she just sunk deeper into the murk. Lately, when people talked about the simplest things in their lives, it sounded like noise to her. Even when people came into the store to chit chat with her, she found herself growing annoyed with them, wishing they would leave her alone.

“What does this mean for us?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Gord said. He slumped down into the chair, his water glass in front of him. “I need a drink.” He walked to the liquor cabinet and took out a bottle of Crown Royal. Lifting the bottle up, he peered at the amber liquid.

“This looks a lot lower,” he said. “Has Colton been drinking this?”

“He’s barely been around,” Donna said.

Gord took out a shot glass, poured himself a shot and downed it. “I just need something to take the edge off,” he said, pouring another. When he was finished it, he shuffled the empty glass back and forth between dirty fingers.

“You need to pay more attention to what is happening around here. We shouldn’t have let Mom and Dad take care of everything. You weren’t involved in the business decisions, and that’s all coming to a head. Dad and I were working together and Craig was off doing his thing. Now you and I are paying for it. And unless we can start moving cows for a good price, we’ll be paying for it in other ways.”

He gripped the glass. He had such big hands, and the glass was so small. What if he crushed it between his fingers? She had never doubted his toughness and his abilities, but she worried about him since Al died. Gord used to be young, strong and invincible, like the cowboys in the movies. Now he was older, tired and broken. His paunch was rounder and there were more lines around his eyes.

Gord poured himself another shot, but didn’t drink it.

“If the border stays closed, it’ll push our retirement back years. But I’d rather dip into that money than spend the money we’ve saved for Allyson’s university.”

Donna put her hands on her husband’s and wrestled the glass away from him. “Enough,” she said. “Stop talking like that.” She took the bottle of Crown Royal and put it on the counter. “It’s the middle of the day.”

“It’s the only way I can keep from exploding,” Gord said. “Drinking takes the edge off.”

“Does this have anything to do with last night?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” Gord said. “Mom’s really not herself. It’s upsetting.”

“You can’t start drinking every time you feel bad,” she said. “That’s how people end up alcoholics. You need to do something else. Drink some tea, listen to music, take a shower. Go for a walk. Go visit somebody. Don’t hide in a bottle.”

“You’ve been watching too much Oprah,” he said.

“Just trying to tell it like it is,” she said. “You lost your dad. You think I don’t miss him too? You think I haven’t noticed you out in the yard, moping around, crying when you don’t think anyone is looking. I’ve seen you,” she said. Everything was coming out in a rush, like water spilling out of the tap.

Gord studied his hands. “You don’t know how bad things are,” he said. “They keep saying on the news that the border could be closed for months. I talked to Phil Hill, and he tried to sell a bull and got pennies for it. After he paid the commission, he couldn’t even afford to get two hamburgers from A & W. How can we live like this? We got two mouths to feed and a kid that will be going off to university soon. I’m working my ass off here trying to make up for everything that Dad did. And my mom is going to live out the rest of her life in the lodge as a cripple.”

He grabbed her hand. “I just wish you could get this. I know that there’s a big part of you that hates this farm and that you moved here. I know you hate it here. I’ve known that for years. But I need you to understand what we’re dealing with. Because this problem is bigger than this ranch. The entire beef industry could go down if things don’t get better.”

Gord was right. She was a failure. She should pay more attention to what was happening on the ranch. She’d been a child, relying on Abby and Al to take care of everything. And now they were gone, right in the middle of a cattle crisis, and everything was falling apart around them.

“What can I do?” she asked. Gord’s tone grated her, the way he’d spoken to her in such a condescending way. Other things in her life had sucked over the years, but things between her and Gord had generally been good. If she hadn’t loved him, her in-laws, and the kids, she never would have stayed. She would have hightailed it back to Saskatoon at the first opportunity.

“You’re going to need to find some ways that we can get some more money,” he said. “And close your wallet as much as you can. We need to be frugal.”

He leaned in close to her, as if he was going to tell her a secret.

“Keep your eye on Linda and Craig. We need to make sure they don’t do anything else.”

He cleared his throat and coughed. She could smell the warmth of the whiskey on his breath. There was a sourness to the smell of his body. She wondered what was happening to him. Maybe he was starting to decay on the inside, as worry ate away at him.

She held his hand in hers, squeezing the familiar width of his hand. Ran her fingers along the backside of his hands, felt the spots on his knuckles where cuts had healed over, leaving little ridges on his hands. She loved his rough, imperfect hands, like a real cowboy’s.

Gord stood up.

“I’m going to go watch TV,” he said. “Do we have any chips?”

She pointed to a cupboard and watched as he took a bag of Hawkins Cheezies and shuffled out of the room. Cheezies were gross, but the boys, Gord and Allyson had always loved them. Gord left orange fingerprints on things after he’d been eating Cheezies, and blamed it on the kids.

Gord’s back had a slight hunch, as if he was too tired to stand up. Did aging happen that fast? Maybe it was happening to her too. The cookies were cool now. She picked one up and ate it. It tasted good, sweet and rich. Using a spatula, she scooped up the cookies into a cookie tin that Abby had given her. The cookie tin had a Holstein cow on it and was dented where one of the kids had dropped it.

Donna picked the whiskey bottle up off the counter and went to put it in the cupboard. Then she thought better of it. Gord had been taking too many nips out of the bottle. She should hide it. If he asked, she could blame it on Colton. She took the bottle and glanced towards the family room. She could hear Ian Hanomansing talking. She couldn’t make out all the words, but there was a sense of urgency in his voice. He was probably talking about Iraq or the border closure. Maybe an update on SARS. When she thought about everything that was happening in the world, she had trouble breathing. It was such a scary place. Even things that seemed innocent, like cows chewing their cuds in a field, could turn dangerous, wild and unwieldy if provoked. Who knows what would happen next? Two years ago, she watched the news as planes slammed into the Twin Towers. Anita, always a sensitive soul, had been so affected by the news that she closed the store and gave Donna and Bonnie time off. Even when they’d opened the store days later, it had been quiet. No one wanted to come in to buy wedding, anniversary or birthday cards. They couldn’t imagine the world could just go on, that things could continue happening in the face of tragedy. Donna saw this with her own family after Al’s death. It felt like though things should stop, but they just kept on going. But her entire family had gotten older and more worn. Allyson seemed to have retreated even further into her books and drawings. Colton was gone all the time, out with Lily Stevens. Donna didn’t trust her. She knew all about that type of girl. Always thinking with her pants down, trying to get ahead by using her tits. Donna had met women like her before. She’d even been friends with one of them in university, a girl named Rebecca. But when she started dating Gord, she and Rebecca lost touch. Rebeca didn’t even come to the wedding. Some of Donna’s other friends had come, but she hadn’t been able to maintain friendships with her city friends after Clay was born. Sometimes she wondered what would have happened to her if she hadn’t met Gord, hadn’t gotten pregnant, hadn’t left Saskatoon when she was so young. Would she have a good group of girlfriends in the city? Would they dress in stylish clothes and go to movies, plays and concerts? Who would this other her be? She would have finished school. Maybe she would be in a big city somewhere, living a glamorous life, working in an office and wearing suits. But even when she imagined these other lives, her chest tightened when she thought about life without Gord and her kids. When her children were born, she leaned over their cribs, surveying the rise and fall of their tiny chests. Keep breathing, she would whisper to them. Stay in this world.

The whiskey bottle was a weight in her hand. She debated where to hide it. She didn’t want to hide it in the house, but she couldn’t just throw it out. It was such a waste to dump it. Maybe she could hide it in the barn, behind the hay bales. If anyone found it, she’d blame it on Al and his fondness for taking a nip while he looked at the cattle. He always said there was nothing better than standing out on his land, looking at all he’d built and all they had created, while enjoying a sip of whiskey.

She walked towards the door and put on her cowboy boots. She closed the door with a click behind her, careful not to bang it. No need to make Gord come down and see her going out into the yard with a bottle of booze.

As she started towards the barn, Maggie and Rascal came up to greet her. Their doggy scent and wagging tails were comforting. She would have loved to have a house dog, but Al always teased her and Gord never would have allowed it. The air outside was crisp.

As she continued towards the barn, she glanced over at Abby and Al’s house, looming like a sentinel over the yard. If she didn’t know better, she would have sworn the house was watching her. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the door open. Her breath caught in her chest. Even though Donna knew Abby and Al were gone, she half expected to see one of them in the doorway. But it was Linda, emerging from the house with plastic bags in her hands. As Donna watched, she closed the door behind her.

As soon as she saw Linda, Donna felt both irritable and enraged. Linda was trespassing. Donna stopped moving and stood still. The hand holding the whiskey bottle rested against her leg.

“What are you doing in the house?” she asked as Linda came down the steps. “Why do you keep going in there?”

“Cleaning,” Linda said. “If I didn’t, everything would be covered in dust. Besides, someone needs to check it. We don’t want to get mice in there.”

It was just like Linda, trying to take care of things without asking anybody, trying to control everything.

“What’s in the bags?” she asked.

“A few quilts and a couple of blouses. Maybe some things that Abby would want at the lodge.”

“You going to visit her?” Donna asked.

“In a while,” Linda said. “Not today. Not after last night.”

“I hear you and Craig are looking into the title.”

Linda shuffled her weight from foot to foot, and transferred one of the plastic bags to her other hand. The bags looked heavy. Linda wore pink Converse high tops. She must have borrowed Chloe’s shoes.

Linda stared off into the distance, searching for something out on the land, tempting Donna to look in the same direction.

“We can’t do this anymore,” Donna said. “We need to work together. There are only four adults here now.”

“The farm is Abby’s and she can decide what she wants to do with it. And I should tell you, Craig was the one who insisted we go to the lawyer’s alone. I wanted to bring you two.”

“Why didn’t you say something to him?”

Linda snorted. “I can barely talk to him. He just works all the time. He’s been a stone since Al’s death. Hasn’t even cried. Barely sleeps. He’s been trying to get as much work as possible. It’s like he’s afraid that if he stops moving, he might have feelings.”

Donna’s voice got small. “How is your money situation?”

Linda glared at her. Her gaze was so intense that Donna felt herself wilt.

“I’m not going to tell you that. That’s private,” she said.

She took a gulp of air. “I swear, Donna, you don’t pay attention to anything that happens out here. You’re not a country person and you never have been. You just like to pretend you are, with your boots and your Dolly Parton CDs and your love of cowboy movies. But now you’re going to have to get real. You’re going to have to saddle up and help us out now that Abby and Al are gone. You’re going to have to be a real farm wife.”

“I live here, don’t I?” Donna said. “I’m not acting on my own. I’m trying to help everyone. Al would be rolling in his grave if he knew how you two were behaving.”

“No, you’re wrong,” Linda said. “He’d say the exact same thing.”

Donna could feel tears behind her eyes. She hated being the family bawl baby. When she started to cry in the middle of a fight, she felt like a child.

“We’re all hurting and we’re all trying to figure out what we need to do. And everyone is stressed because of the whole cattle thing,” she said.

“You’re telling me,” Linda said. “You’re the one who is walking around oblivious to everything.”

Donna could feel a harsh knot building in her chest. All the ugliness inside Linda had unleashed itself and landed on her.

“I’m not oblivious,” she said. She put her hand in Maggie’s fur. She concentrated on the sound of the dog’s panting, their pink tongues and bright eyes. She was okay. The dogs wouldn’t be around her if she weren’t a good person.

“I see what’s happening to us,” she said. “We’re all on our way to some dark place.”

She willed herself not to cry; she was so sick of crying. Tired of fighting. She looked at her sister-in-law and saw fear on her face. Her features, which had been pinched and closed a few seconds ago, softened. This was the same woman who had helped her with her newborn babies. The same woman who cheered alongside her as the kids took their first steps. They had been so close when the kids were small. But then Linda started teaching, and they stopped hanging out with each other as much.

“I gotta go,” Linda said, adjusting her bags again. The handles of the bags left red marks on her skin.

“Want me to take one of those?” Donna asked.

“I’m okay,” said Linda.

“Let me know if you decide to do anything else,” Donna said. “You guys can’t keep sneaking around. We all need to be on the same page.”

Linda nodded, turned her back and started towards the house. Then she turned around and called over her shoulder.

“I just gotta ask,” she said. “Why are you carrying around a half empty bottle of Crown Royal?”

*

The winter was long and uneventful. When Donna thought of it, all she could think of was a long stretch of highway and grey and worry. Visits to the lodge to see Abby. Gord monitoring the news every day to see if the border had opened. The family tiptoeing around one another, going through the motions, trying to pretend things were normal when they weren’t. Donna worried about money. The farmers waited for the border to open, but nothing happened. They waited for aid packages and government money and nothing came. There was just an endless space of grief, and grey and not knowing and waiting. And then it was summer time again.