In Winter's Grip (17 page)

“I hit a patch of ice and hit my head. It hurts now that you've drawn my attention to it.”

“Car okay?”

“Yup, I think so. Just my head got damaged.”

Billy returned with a bag of ice that he pressed gently against my forehead. The throbbing above my eyes started to numb. I tried to concentrate on something else.

“You're going to have a goose egg if we don't catch the swelling.” He sat next to me, waiting for me to tell him what had brought me so far from Duved Cove.

“I don't really know why I'm here. I went to meet Charlie, Dad's partner at Pigeon River, and he said that Dad came to Fortune Bay to gamble. It seemed logical to check it out. I stopped at the diner and found out your brother's is on the way, so here I am.” I took a deep breath.

“So here you are.” Billy reached over and covered the hand that was resting on my lap. His skin was warm on mine.

“There was something else.” I turned so I could look into his eyes. It was now or never. “I wanted to tell you, Billy, that I'm sorry. After all these years, I'm sorry that I ran away from Duved Cove and my brother and father and most of all you. I know it doesn't mean much now, but I wanted you to know before I have to fly home.” I looked down at our hands intertwined. “I'd made a promise to you, and I didn't keep it.”

“You promised you wouldn't be gone long,” Billy said so softly I could barely hear the words. They cut into my heart. I looked into his eyes again. They'd become unreadable, and I knew then how much I'd hurt him.

I sighed the words, “I'm sorry.”

“What you lived through—the abortion and then your mother...” Billy shrugged. “I don't blame you, Maja. I never blamed you. Besides, we've both done okay. Others have filled the emptiness.”

I nodded. “And that's really what it's been. Pain and emptiness.”

“Your father's death has made you face it again.”

“I've been running from all that I didn't want to think about, but I can't leave Jonas now. I think he's in trouble, Billy.”

“Jonas couldn't have murdered your father.”

“I'm not so sure. The way it happened could have been spontaneous. Maybe, my father taunted him with...crushing information, and Jonas had the shovel in his hands and just... snapped. It might have been like that.”

Claire's haunted eyes. Gunnar's anger. Jonas's descent. They
were keeping a secret that was destroying them.

“Where is Jonas now?”

“The hospital. He's sunk into a depression, and they're getting him stabilized with antidepressants. He's got a frail soul. My mother was the same.”

“Your father isn't blameless.” Billy's eyes were angry. He'd been my confidant all those years ago, but even Billy I hadn't told the worst. He knew and he didn't know. He stood and looked down at me. “I'll drive you to the casino. I know the person you'll want to talk to.”

“I wasn't sure if anybody would tell me whether my father'd been winning or racking up debt. That's what I need to know.” I handed Billy the ice pack and stood to face him. “We can take my car.”

“We'll find out, don't worry. I'll just tell Raymond I'm leaving. We have a new group coming over from the casino in the morning for a three-day trip, but he can get that organized without me.”

SEVENTEEN

W
ithin snow-laden stands of mature birch, aspen and pine, Fortune Bay Resort and Casino nestled against the south shore of Lake Vermilion. A deep carpet of snow covered the eighteen hole golf course that stretched away from the low, sprawling buildings. It was breath-catching, beautiful wilderness. I wished we had more time for a hike through the woods to the lake. It would have been all I could ask to spend the day with Billy away from everyone and everything. I could tell by the way he looked from me to the trees that he felt the same way.

“The Bois Forte Band runs the casino,” Billy said as we pulled into a parking space. “Sah-Gah-Ea-Gum-Wah-Ma-Mah-Nee. The Chippewa call Vermillion the Lake of the Sunset Glow. Twelve hundred miles of shoreline and close to four hundred islands with fishing second to none. Walleye, pike, muskie, bass—food of the gods.” He grinned at me.

“Would you ever leave Minnesota?” I asked suddenly, but I already knew the answer.

Billy turned his dark eyes to mine and slowly shook his head. “This is my home. I'm here till the end.”

“I understand,” I said, and I truly did. That didn't stop the pain from welling up inside me. I smiled and looked away from Billy's all-seeing eyes.

The casino turned out to be a cavernous games room with gold-patterned carpet, high ceilings in red and silver and more 140 slot machines than rides at a carnival. The clanging, tinging and jangle of money and machines, and the flashing lights were harsh and disorienting. Casually dressed people with determined faces sat in front of one-armed bandits while waitresses circulated with trays of drinks. After the quiet of Raymond's lodge, this bright, loud room was a shock to my system. I was glad Billy had offered to come with me. I tried to imagine my father in this room, sitting at one of the slot machines, pulling down the handle and waiting for the swoosh of money to clank into the metal tray. More likely, he would have joined a poker or blackjack game in the farthest section of the room, where hosts in black and white were dealing cards behind low tables covered in green felt.

Billy stood silently beside me surveying the room, eyes alert, stance relaxed. I'd always liked his stillness. In a crowded room or alone together on the beach, he had the ability to suspend motion— to disappear inside himself—a self-containment I'd never learned. After he'd drunk in the lay of the land to his satisfaction, he touched my arm and motioned for me to follow him.

We walked past the waterfall in the centre of the room to a long hallway. The noise was less deafening once we'd left the main room, but there was no escaping its relentless throb. Billy led me to a green door at the end of the corridor. He rapped loudly, and a deep voice called for us to enter. I stepped into the room behind Billy. An aboriginal man in a khaki security uniform sat behind a bank of television screens that showed various angles of the room we'd just left as well as the corridor we'd just walked down. He had a long black braid that hung down his back to his hips.

“Hey, Billy. How's it going, man?”

“Good. You, Chitto?”

“Can't complain.” Chitto stood and stretched. He had a broad forehead, wide nostrils and round chin made more defined by his hair pulled tightly away from his face. He extended a hand in my direction. “Pleased to meet you.”

“This is my friend, Maja. We went to school together in Duved Cove, quite a few moons ago.”

Chitto's black eyes travelled between me and Billy. It felt like Chitto saw beneath the surface to what really lay between me and Billy. It was disconcerting. I felt a slow blush heat my cheeks. I couldn't remember having blushed so much since grade school. I shook his hand and met his eyes. “Good to meet you too.”

Chitto sat down and turned his attention back to the screens. “Quiet so far today. Probably the weather's keeping the regulars home. Have a seat. What brings you this way?”

Billy pulled out a chair for me but stood leaning on the desk facing Chitto. “Maja's father was killed a few days ago in Duved Cove, and we're just tying up some loose ends.”

Chitto took his eyes off the screen and glanced towards me. “Sorry to hear that. Did I know your father?”

“You might have.” Billy's eyes jumped from Chitto to me and then back again. “He used to come here quite a bit, we think. Peter Larson. Do you know anything about him?”

Chitto's shoulders tensed visibly. He lifted a finger toward a screen that showed the entrance where we'd stood surveying the room. Two middle-aged men in suits stood talking together. “You're looking at the new owners of the casino.”

Billy turned and squinted at the screen. “Aren't those the Motego brothers?”

“The very same.”

“What happened to Rainy Wynona?”

“Gone. Left without even a goodbye party.”

“When did that happen?”

“Last week. Surprise to me. Surprise to everybody.”

Billy watched the screen a bit longer but didn't say anything. Chitto turned and looked at me again. “Your father used to come here to play blackjack a few times a week. Hadn't seen him for a few weeks though.”

“Did he win much?” I asked.

“He won his share but nothing out of the ordinary. I'd say he was in the black more often than the red. He always played at the same table. Travis was the regular dealer. He told me your father usually won enough to leave with a few bucks at the end of the night. I'd have remembered if Travis had said it was more than that.”

“Why's that?”

“Someone beating the house, I'd have to keep an eye on them, you know for signs of cheating. The dealers tip me off if something's out of the ordinary.”

Billy stood and took a step towards me. “We'd better leave so you don't get into any trouble. I know they don't like customers coming back here.”

“Wouldn't want to piss off the new bosses, that's for sure.” Chitto laughed. “I hear they're not the forgiving kind.”

We were almost at the door when I stopped and turned. “Chitto, when my father came to play blackjack, did he come by himself?”

“He always came alone, but I seen him with another guy the odd time. I never thought about it much before, but it was enough times that I noticed. Sometimes they sat together and played blackjack. The other guy wasn't a regular, and I can't recall his name. Always wore a black Yankees ball cap. He hasn't been around much either, now that I think of it.”

“Would you have them on tape?” Billy asked.

“Not likely. They weren't in together this month, and we don't keep the tapes longer than that. We record over them.”

“Well, thanks for the information,” I said. Nothing that he'd told me explained my father's financial situation when he died. There were probably a lot of men in ball caps who played blackjack, so that didn't tell me much either.

“Trevor working tonight?” Billy asked.

“No, he's gone south for a few weeks. Expect him back a week Sunday.”

“Thanks again, Chitto.”

“No problemo.”

Billy took my arm, and we left Chitto to his television screens. It felt odd walking back down the corridor knowing that Chitto was watching our every step. It made me want to get away from the casino as quickly as possible and back to the world of silence and woods and winter calm.

I left Billy at the top of the hill leading to the lake. The storm had stopped, and the snow lay white with bluish hollows in drifts along the roadside. The cloud cover gave up its hold on the sky, and the feeble sun was visible for the first time that day. Billy wanted to get some exercise before nightfall, and this would be his only chance. Once he returned to camp, he'd be busy packing up for the morning's journey.

He'd kissed my cheek then my open mouth before he left me. His eyes had been as black as I'd ever seen them when he'd looked into mine before kissing me. We'd kissed long and hard, but it hadn't been enough. If we lived forever, it could never be enough. Billy's eyes spoke of longing and forgiveness and resolution. His hands touched my hair and held it tightly, palms resting against my neck, and it was the gentle weight of his hands that I felt most strongly as I watched him walking away from the car, his shoulders squared and his lean body braced against the wind blowing in from the lake.

I knew this was the end. Billy and I would not be joining our lives together, no matter how much we wanted to be together. Billy had Nina and Ella, and I had Sam and my life in Ottawa. Our futures were not ours to give to each other. I watched him walk through the snow, completely at home in the wide expanse of sky and lake and woods. He looked so at one with the wilderness that my throat ached. He didn't stop once to turn and wave, even though we both knew this was the last time we would meet this way.

When Billy was nearly out of sight, I reversed in a wide arc and aimed the car back towards the highway and Duved Cove. The drive to Jonas's passed quickly as I focused on the last moments with Billy. I relived them over and over in my mind before tucking the memory away for safekeeping. When I grew old and grey, at least I would have this day. I'd have the knowledge that time and distance had not destroyed my love for Billy Okwari nor his for me.

I made it to Duved Cove Hospital as the sun was starting its descent behind the black line of fir trees. A horizontal swath of peach light intersected the grey sky and the darkness of the horizon. I looked eastward and saw the sliver of moon waiting for its turn to claim the night sky. The early sunset made me want to tuck myself into the house to watch a movie or read a book with a glass of wine in my hand and a fire in the hearth. This dream would have to keep. I stepped out of the car and huddled into my parka. Along with the disappearing cloud cover had come a sharp drop in temperature, hovering just this side of bearable. My teeth all but chattered as I jogged across the parking lot towards the lighted entranceway, my breath leading the way in moist puffs of frosty white.

The sterile green walls, blue vinyl seats and fluorescent lighting of the waiting room made me feel right at home. I'd spent the better part of my adult life in one hospital or another as a medical student, intern and plastic surgeon. Unbelievably, the waiting room was empty. I imagined the constant lines of people waiting in Ottawa emergency rooms and marvelled at the difference. There were perks to practising medicine in a small town.

Directly in front of me, Becky Wilders sat at the admitting desk, head bent over a book, red hair pulled back taut, her face glowing in the light of the desk lamp. She looked up and smiled as I approached. “If you've come to see Jonas, visiting hours are from seven to nine.” Then she grinned wider, revealing a gap in her teeth, and waved a hand towards the corridor to my left. “I have to officially tell people that, but you can go in if you want. He's on the second floor, room 235.”