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Fiona loved the exercise, though, to be honest, she was a bit out of shape. She had not snowshoed in years, and the last time was to an Eskimo village in rural Alaska for Hadley to take pictures for National Geographic and for her a write up about how they had lived off-grid. That trip had been especially tough due to the amount of physical exercise, but that was eight years ago, and she had been in better shape.
“They look so innocent,” a lady came alongside her wiggling her snowshoe at Fiona, “but they are a definite work out.”
“I know. I always think I’m so fit, and then I try something only twenty-year-olds should do," she said with a chuckle.
"I’m Dee Dee,” the lady said, focusing on the ground ahead of her. Still, staying close enough, Fiona thought she was definitely trying to engage in a conversation.
“I’m Fiona,” she said after a long moment.
“I haven’t seen you up here before,” Dee Dee returned.
“This is our first time, have you been here before?” she asked.
“Every year since Jim and I got married, twenty-two years ago. It was an old family tradition of his parents to bring the kids every year, and we have continued it,” she said with a big smile.
“Which one is your husband?” Fiona said, glancing up at the extended group walking their way through the pristine show, leaving it a mess in their wake.
“He would be the one back at the room, who volunteered to watch his new infant granddaughter sleep,” Dee Dee said with a slight roll of her eyes.
“I see,” Fiona said. “Well, I think this is the perfect way to spend an afternoon even if I will be regretting it for a day or two.”
“I couldn’t agree more,” Dee Dee said and then turned to face her fully. “Is it true you are doing a commemorative book of sorts about Cabolusa Lodge at Christmas time?”
Fiona was shocked by the question as she didn’t realize the news was out already. “My best friend Hadley is a photographer, and I write articles. Megan thought it would be a great gift for her parents when they return.”
“I think it’s amazing, my family is all in if you need people for pictures or stories.”
“After all the years you spent here, I think that would be great,” Fiona said.
“Mind if I ask a question?”
“Sure.”
“If your friend is a photographer, I assume she hasn’t always been in a wheelchair?”
Fiona lowered her head a bit, “Nope, only the last year and a half. She was shot covering a volunteer organization that was building schools in these villages in the–well, let’s just say the Middle East. Unfortunately, we went to a home to interview one of the older members of the village, and things went south. Her son was not a fan of the United States...,” she stopped talking as she was back in that moment.
The interpreter had asked the lady her age mere seconds after they were seated. Fiona had felt comfortable and, for the first time, felt at peace. She hadn’t wanted to be intrusive and had been granted an excellent interpreter. The man had patiently been doing interviews with them for four days, and he was happy and jovial with everyone they met–it was because of him, she was able to get everyone to talk.
Then a young man walked in, and something clicked in the older lady’s eyes. Fiona knew fear when she saw it, and the way the lady looked as she put up her hand–Fiona didn’t need to speak their language to understand.
Hadley had lowered her camera, and in a heartbeat, their eyes met. They knew something was horribly wrong when the glint of the weapon the man pulled from behind the sheet hanging in the room to separate the sleeping quarters. Fiona was frozen, she could not move–and then she was falling backward. Hadley kicked her chair out, a second before the gunfire erupted.
It was over so fast. The military team took out the man, lucky the old lady was uninjured. Fiona glanced over to be sure Hadley was okay, and she saw it–the dark crimson stain behind her on the floor.
“Medic!” She heard the shout go up as she crawled in slow motion toward her location. Begging Hadley through the tears to wake up, to look at her, or just say something–anything.
It was two days later before Hadley regained consciousness, and the news that would tear their reality apart was detailed by a doctor who must have said he was sorry a hundred times.
“Hey,” Dee Dee said, reaching out to place a gentle hand on the sleeve of her jacket. “I’m sorry I asked,” she whispered. “Seems like it is a fresh scar for both of you.”
“It is, but honestly, this book we are doing is the first time since it happened that she will be behind a camera. I can’t wait to capture all the fun activities and families together,” she said, trying to release the memories hold and live back at this moment.
“For the most part,” Dee Dee said. “There is a long rivalry for gingerbread dominance around here, and last year there was a slight frosting mishap.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Fiona said, trying to keep a straight face.
“Or the case of the missing stockings from the year before,” Dee Dee said. “Boy, do I have stories for you. And I have no intention of changing the names of those involved to protect them.”
“I look forward to all of that,” Fiona said.
“You bring good red wine, and I will give you the real dirt,” Dee Dee said in a conspiratorial whisper.
“It’s a deal.”
