Prairie Fire (20 page)

“Yeah,” said Peter. “At forty below, you have to put on your coat, hat, mittens, scarf, and boots, and by the time you get to the car, the milk is frozen.”

I didn't have to go outside very often, for which I was profoundly grateful, but on the rare occasion that I did venture out, the cold took my breath away and I could feel my nose hairs freeze.

“Why the hell does anyone live here?” I asked, standing next to my bed, peeling off layer after layer of clothing and still feeling like I'd never be warm again.

“Same reason they brave the dragons,” Laura told me.

Oil. The answer was almost always oil.

“And it's going to be like this until March?” Annie said.

“If we're lucky,” Laura replied. “If we're not, May.”

“As long as the snow melts by itself, I don't really care,” Courtney said.

I nodded. Fort Calgary did get early thaws sometimes, but they were always the result of a Chinook attack. The dragon could raise the temperature in a matter of hours. The record was minus 45 to 26 in four hours. I wasn't in a hurry to see it happen for myself.

Two weeks before Christmas, we drew lots to see who would get to go home for the holiday. It was a weeklong leave, and the first proper one we had had since we'd arrived. Fort Calgary was so isolated that on a 24- or 48-hour leave, all you could really do was ignore the calls. It wasn't enough time to go anywhere besides Edmonton, and there wasn't much in Edmonton to see. The only problem was that we couldn't all be spared, and thus we decided to let random draw decide.

I drew Owen's lot and my own, announcing which was which when Courtney passed me the hat she'd used to hold the tags. Mine was the pass, and Owen's wasn't.

“Don't you even think about it,” Anderson said when he saw the expression on my face. He'd drawn a stay too. “You drew your own pass fair and square.”

I had a phone call scheduled with Owen that night. We spoke once a week, as per Porter's request. Since Owen was separated from his squad, Porter felt he deserved to be kept up to date as to what was going on. I was pretty sure the calls were recorded, so I hadn't told him about Peter and the music we'd been writing together. I wasn't sure how General Speed would react to my writing music again, and I wanted to be sure I had a whole piece written and recorded if he decided to shut us down. The next time Owen and I got to talk, I might have taken the risk, but I only had enough time to tell him that he'd lost the draw.

“You can have mine, if you want,” I told him.

“Your mother would kill me,” Owen said. “Besides, then I'd have to leave Porter here by himself, and I think that would make him even more off-kilter than he already is.”

“He's that bad?” I asked.

“He really hates the mountains,” Owen said. “Though he does appreciate the fact that it's too hilly to practice tilting.”

“Constantinople is desolate without you,” I told him.

“Horses can be very emotional, but our relationship is nobody's business but the Turks',” he said, and we both laughed. The horse probably didn't miss him at all, but I did. Even with the liaising and the music I wrote with Peter, there was always a twinge where Owen should have been, a feeling that I wasn't doing my job. Also, I missed my friend.

“As far as I know, they don't make fireproof snowsuits for horses,” Owen said. “We spend all our time in the forest with the logging crews. It's about a million times worse than camping with Dad.”

“But you're doing okay?” That was about as personal as I could get. For all I knew, General Speed was listening live right now.

“Well, I'm getting plenty of exercise,” Owen said. “We had a 'Bascan Long last week, and Porter and I got it in the woods outside of town. He was not kidding about the part where you can tangle them in the trees. It was a fucking mess.”

“I'm glad to see he's rubbing off on you,” I said. He laughed. Owen didn't usually swear much.

“Do me a favour, would you?” he said.

“Of course,” I told him.

“Bring back some kind of British food if you can, and send it to Porter on the train,” Owen said. “I think it would make him feel a bit better.”

“You know what they say about Trondheim,” I said. “It's pretty much a centre for culture like that.”

“Sadie can bring souvenirs,” Owen pointed out. “And if you tell either your mother or Hannah, I am sure they'll help you find something.”

“Good point,” I said. “Any requests for yourself?”

“Surprise me,” he said.

“I'll do my best,” I told him. I already had several ideas, but I wanted to clear them with Emily first.

“Say hi to Sadie for me,” he added, his voice a bit quieter. “Tell her I miss her.”

“You can do that on the phone,” I pointed out.

“Yeah, but it's not the same.”

“I don't think hearing it from me is going to be quite the same,” I said.

“She'll understand,” Owen said. “Just don't kiss her. That'll only confuse the issue.”

“Right,” I said. “And I was so looking forward to that part.”

“I think we should hang up now,” Owen said, “before this gets any weirder.”

“Merry Christmas, Owen,” I said. “If I don't talk to you before then.”

“And a Happy New Year,” he said back. “Now go catch your train.”

Technically, we were still on duty when we were on the train, which was just as well or we'd use our entire leaves getting to and from Toronto. It meant that I had files to read and official e-mails to send, and also that we had to stay in uniform, just in case one of the lieutenants traveling with us decided to make an inspection. Peter had sung Christmas carols nonstop for the three days leading up to our departure, and I had so much music in my head that I thought I was ready to burst. Playing with him was fun and an interesting change, but it was slow, even by my new standards, and I was itching to get to Emily and our recording software.

And, you know, see my parents. And sleep in a room by myself.

It's possible that Mum and Dad had meant to pick me up by themselves, but since Sadie's train from Gagetown was getting into Dansworth at approximately the same time mine was, there was quite the welcoming crew for us. We weren't the only ones, I was happy to note. I'm not sure how many people even live in Kapuskasing, but then when we'd stopped in Thunder Bay, which was the closest the train went to the town, and Parker and Gratton had gotten off the train, we saw their welcoming parties through the windows, and it looked like the entire population had made the trek. In Toronto, Mum and Dad were on the platform with Sadie's parents and Sadie, whose train had arrived ahead of schedule, along with all of the Thorskards and, much to my surprise, Catalina. There was a lot of hugging, basically, is what I am saying.

Once we'd finished and gotten everyone into their cars for the drive back home, I finally let myself relax.

“They're not throwing a party for us, are they?” I asked as we passed the “Welcome to Trondheim” sign. I was tired, and my uniform was wrinkled.

“Not today,” Dad said, rather unreassuringly. “But there are a lot of people who are excited to see you while you're home.”

“Great,” I said. “As long as I get to sleep and take a bubble bath first.”

“You take bubble baths?” Mum said.

“Well, no,” I said. “But I don't see any reason why I shouldn't start.”

“The military has changed you, darling,” Dad said.

“You have no idea,” I told him.

And, really, they didn't. When I had left them in June, I'd been uncertain and still not very good at doing things for myself. Now I was more confident and much more able. I was also, thanks to the squad, better at letting other people help me do the things I couldn't. Annie didn't do my buttons unless I asked, but she tied my tie most mornings, and the boys always seemed to make sure that the lids were off everything on the table before I needed anything. Even Peter, new as he was, would have my bugle case open for me when I was ready to put the horn away and turn to composition. It had become second nature, and I didn't even mind. Of course, I had a whole assortment of new problems that my parents wouldn't understand, let alone help me solve. Not even Hannah, the most thoughtful of the Thorskards, could fix those for me. It kept me from getting full of myself.

“The Thorskards are coming for dinner tonight, though,” Mum said. “And Christmas Eve as well. We thought it was fair.”

“They're practically family anyway,” I said. “Did you invite the Fletchers?”

“Yes,” said Dad, “but I think they want Sadie to themselves for a while before they start letting her out into the wild. At least you and Owen have each other, and you're in Canada. Sadie's very far away, and I think they're feeling it.”

“Did Aodhan talk to them?” I asked.

“They don't really talk to the Thorskards much,” Mum said. Her face was a bit hard, I thought, but maybe she was just focused on the road.

“Oh, and Emily is coming for brunch tomorrow,” Dad said, seamlessly changing the subject. “She seemed to think you had a government to overthrow or something?”

“You know how it is with her,” I said. “There's always something.”

We pulled into the driveway and got out of the car, and I was surprised to find that the house didn't look smaller. I had wondered if it might. I hadn't done a lot of traveling before I'd left for Alberta. We'd gone to Florida, of course, but not that often. In stories, whenever the hero comes home, things always look a little smaller. The comforts of home are welcome, obviously, and much needed rest is had, but the horizon always beckons.

I paused in the kitchen while Mum started dinner and Dad set the table, watching them go about their tasks like I'd just come home from school instead of halfway across the continent. Their rhythm hadn't changed, any more than the house had. Dad set the extra places as if he did it all the time, and Mum was already humming tunelessly to herself while she measured and chopped.

“Go on up,” Mum said. “We haven't made your room into a Zen garden or anything.”

“I'm glad to hear it,” I said.

“Have a nap, if you want,” Dad added. “I'm jumping the gun a bit setting the table. They won't be over until six. You've got plenty of time.”

Plenty of time. Seven days. I shook my head, laughing to myself as I pulled my kit behind me up the stairs to my room. I was better traveled now, sure, and probably more jaded too, but I wasn't the hero of this story, and I had no plans to be. I was the bard, and home would be what I made it, wherever Owen led me, because I was the one who told everyone else what home was.

Seven days. I lay down on my bed and looked up at the familiar ceiling. I didn't nap right away, though. I had too much to do. I thought going back to Trondheim would be like stepping back into a bubble. I would be with my parents again, and even though my car was waiting for me in the driveway, full of gas no less, I was still back in the place where I had been a child.

What happened was almost exactly the opposite.