Cheryl Tardif - Children of the Fog

“I’m Irma,” the woman said, holding out a bony hand.

Sadie shook it carefully. “Sadie O’Connell.”

“Nice to meet you.” The woman flicked a look at the Mercedes. “You head into town, be sure to drive careful. This road ain’t the safest, ’specially with Sarge hogging it.”

“He doesn’t by any chance drive a black pickup, does he?”

Irma scowled. “That old heap belongs in the junkyard.”

Sadie bit back a reply as her eyes latched onto a prehistoric cattle trailer parked behind the office cabin. The trailer looked like a candidate for the junkyard too. But she didn’t say so.

“C’mon, Sadie. I’ll show you your five-star accommodations.”

Irma chuckled at her own joke, then motioned her down a well-trodden path. After a few yards, the woman paused to discard the cigar.

“You’re in the last cabin,” she said, using the toe of her boot to grind the cigar into the ground. She immediately lit up another one. “Want one?”

“No, thanks. I don’t smoke.”

“Yeah, me either.” Irma grinned, displaying a mouthful of neglect and decay. “Every day I swear I’m gonna quit. Then I pick up another one. It’s a bitch when you make the devil your best friend.”

Sadie swallowed. “Sometimes he’s your only friend. You know what they say, the devil you know…” Irma’s dark eyes burned into her, so she changed the subject. “Is it this one?”

Ahead, a cabin with daisy curtains sat amidst bare poplars.

Irma shook her head. “Yours is down by the river.”

“There’s a river back here?”

“Well, it’s more of a creek in some parts.”

As they passed the cabin, Sadie noticed a sign over the back door. It had one word on it. Peace.

She smiled. “Nice name.”

“My daughter’s idea. She named all of ’en. Said it would make ’en more appealing.” Irma looked over her shoulder. “Does it?”

“Well, it works for me,” Sadie said, amused.

“Mine’s the office—Harmony,” Irma said. “Then there’s two in back of mine. Hope is close to the road and Inspiration is deeper in the woods. Down here, there’s Peace and Infinity.”

Sadie stumbled. Had she heard right?

“Infinity?”

Irma smiled. “It’s got the best view. You can see forever.”

“And that one’s mine?”

“Yup, only one I got left.”

Sadie drew in a deep breath. The coincidence was disturbing.

“No such thing as coincidence,” her mother always said.

“Does your daughter live with you, Irma?”

“Naw, she used to run this place. Before she and that husband of hers ran off to the big city . Country life just wasn’t good enough for her once she met up with him. ’Specially after them kids were born.”

“How many grandchildren do you have?”

“Five. Brenda just couldn’t stop once she got going. Popped ’en out every year for five years.” Irma snorted. “Now she’s home-schooling ’en. In Edmonton, for Pete’s sake, where there are schools galore. Lord almighty, that girl’s missing a few brain cells.” She shook her head slowly. “Takes after her dad, God rest his wretched soul.”

Sadie gave her a sympathetic look.

“Clifford’s dead,” Irma stated. “Used to ride the bulls at the Calgary Stampede. He was trampled eighteen years ago by old Diablo. Blind as a bat, that one.”

“The bull?”

Irma grunted. “No. Clifford. Man couldn’t see his own feet.”

They continued walking, both lost in thought.

“So you’re out here alone?” Sadie asked finally.

“Yeah, just me and them oil workers. They’re in the other cabins. Lucky for you, they’re gone most days. They come back to sleep, unless they get a room in town. But they shouldn’t bother you none. Probably won’t see anyone, ’cept me.”

Sadie paused near an uprooted tree stump. A steady stream of ants paraded along the top of an exposed root, while a bulbous-bellied arachnid crept closer to the buffet line. She shuddered when the spider snatched up a lagging ant and consumed it.

Survival of the fittest, she thought.

Irma beckoned Sadie onward. “We’re almost there.”

The path descended toward the thinning trees, then opened upon a winding river that trickled over rocks, around tree stumps, weaving and undulating through the woods and past the last of the defiant snow banks. In some places, it was so narrow that the water was shallow. In other areas, the river was dark and deep.

To Sadie, the view was breathtaking.

“This here’s Kimree River,” Irma announced.

An April breeze skipped over the water, caressing Sadie’s face in a cool mist. The air was scented with a soft marshy odor—not really unpleasant, just damp and earthy. It made Sadie think of the Screaming Eagle Cabernet.

“You can keep following this path through the woods or take them stairs.” Irma pointed to rough planked steps set into the icy earth. “It’s easier to walk by the water if you’re carrying stuff. But watch yourself. Those steps are slippery.”

On the river’s shore, they walked side-by-side in mutual silence. There were no other buildings to be seen, no people. Once Irma returned to her own cabin, Sadie would be on her own.

Just the way I want it.

“There it be,” Irma said proudly.

Approaching from the side, Sadie got the first view of her new home. The log cabin was perched on a dry grassy knoll, its light gray roof glittering in the sunlight. Two windows on the side were framed by heavy white shutters and a small veranda with its front end on supports hung out over the river. A blue and white Coleman cooler, two worn wooden chairs and a table made from a bulging tree stump were the veranda’s only adornment, except for a dwarf cedar in a terracotta pot near the sliding door.

Sadie surveyed her new home. It wasn’t much to look at from the outside and most likely not much better inside. But the soothing trickle of the river would make it bearable.

“You weren’t kidding when you said the cabin was down by the river,” she said, chuckling.

“Just better hope we don’t get a flood,” Irma warned.

“A flood?”

“Yeah. A few years back, we had us a flash flood and lightning that lit up the sky for miles. Now that was a storm. If we get another one like that, you’ll wanna close them shutters. Out here, we get some awful winds and the thunder gets pretty loud.”

They climbed the steps that were set into the earth and walked around the side of the cabin. Stacks of firewood, covered with a faded forest-green tarp, were piled up against one wall. A fishing rod and an oil lamp lay abandoned in the grass.

Dismayed, she turned to Irma. “There’s no electricity?”

“Not out here, dear. That gonna be a problem?”

“I need to charge the battery for my laptop and my cell.”

“Well, I was gonna get me one of them fancy-schmancy generators like Sarge got, but I just can’t afford it. Sorry.”

“That’s okay. I’ll charge my things in town then.”

Irma grunted. “Not in Cadomin, you won’t. There’s only one store, and that Louisa’s a real control freak. She wouldn’t even let you piss in the washroom ’cause you’re an outta-towner.” She wiped a grimy hand across her forehead. “You’ll have to go to Hinton, to Ed’s Pub. Just tell him I sent ya. He’s my brother.”

As they approached the back of the cabin, Sadie spotted the sign above the door. Infinity. It made her think of Sam, of their nightly ritual.

“Sam,” she whispered.

“Who’s Sam?” Irma asked. “He your man?”

“No, uh—”

“It’s okay, dear. He won’t find you here.”

Sadie’s head jerked. “What? No, you’ve misunderstood me.”