C.J. Carmichael - A Sister Would Know

A phone call to her parents, after dinner, confirmed their opinion about this trip.

“You’re wasting your time and money,” her father said, on the upstairs extension.

“And what about your job and Davin’s education?” her mother asked.

“I’ve taken a leave of absence from the hospital and I talked with Davin’s teacher before we left. I’m going to make sure he keeps up with the curriculum.” The sound of shattering glass had her twisting toward the kitchen counter. Davin had been drying the dishes and a bowl had slipped from his fingers to the floor.

She covered the mouthpiece. “That’s okay, hon. I’ll clean it up later. Why don’t you go in the living room. It’s almost time for your program.”

Back on the phone, her parents were wondering how long they’d hold her job at the hospital with the way she was behaving.

“Frankly, I don’t even care right now. You have no idea how Helena was living here, Mom. She had barely anything in her apartment.” Except drugs and beer.

It still didn’t make sense to Amalie. At twenty-nine, she’d assumed her sister had been making something of her life. Although she’d never given specifics, Helena’s letters had hinted at jobs, friends, a normal existence.

“Look, Mom, Dad, I’ve got to go. Davin needs my help. I’ll call back in a few days and tell you what’s happening.”

She hung up from the duty call with relief, then went to the cupboard for the broom and dustpan. Just as she was dumping the smashed glass into the garbage, the phone rang.

No doubt her parents. What had they forgotten to warn her about?

But it was Grant Thorlow on the line. Immediately, she was on her guard. The man’s brusque manner had definitely wounded yesterday. And yet, she couldn’t say she was sorry to hear his voice again.

“I was wondering if Davin would like a tour of the Avalanche Control Center tomorrow. He seemed pretty interested in our program the other day. Plus there’s that video I was telling you about…”

Snow Wars, she remembered, impressed by the offer but slightly suspicious, as well. Why was he suddenly being so nice? “That’s very kind of you.”

“Yeah, well…” He cleared his throat. “I didn’t mean to be rude yesterday. Especially in front of the kid.”

Amalie’s opinion of the man went up a notch at his apology. She liked people who had soft spots for children. “I guess you were pretty plainspoken, but I came here wanting the truth about Helena.”

There was a pause on the other end of the line. Then his voice, a little more tentative this time. “Are you sure about that? Maybe you and the boy are better off not knowing….”

Amalie felt a buzz of anxiety. “Not knowing what?”

“Nothing. It’s just that you two seem like nice people.”

“And so was Helena.” Amalie turned to face the wall, lowering her voice so Davin couldn’t hear her above the sound of the television in the next room.

“She may have made some bad choices in her life, but basically Helena was a good person.”

“A good person?” Grant’s incredulity was clear, even over the phone. “Look, she was your sister, and you can believe what you want. But if it wasn’t for her, Ramsey Carter would still be alive today. Denise Carter would still have a husband. Her kids would have a father.”

There was something so inherently unfair about Grant’s judgment. Amalie twisted the telephone cord and fought for self-control. “It works both ways. Nobody forced Ramsey Carter to go up that mountain with Helena. Did it ever occur to you that the ski trip could have been Ramsey’s idea? That it might be his fault that Helena died?”

“THERE ARE OVER 130 avalanche slidepaths that intersect with the Trans-Canada Highway along the Rogers Pass route through the Selkirk Mountains,” Grant told Davin later the next day, after Amalie and Davin had sat through the Snow Wars video in the information center theater.

He was still a little angry with himself. Even though he’d claimed to have arranged this outing for Davin’s sake—he knew the truth. He’d wanted to see Amalie again.

“Maybe some parts of the world aren’t meant to be lived in,” she said now, studying a picture of the 105 mm howitzer used to trigger avalanches in designated situations.

“The trains need to travel through the mountains somehow,” Grant said quietly. “So do motorists. This corridor was the best available.”

“But it’s so dangerous.” Despite her thick wool sweater, Amalie looked chilled. She hugged her arms around her body, her gaze caught by the view from the glass entranceway. She didn’t seem to appreciate the scenery.

“Yes, it’s dangerous,” Grant agreed. “In an average year we have about 1,500 slides along this highway. Can you imagine how many are happening out in the wilderness?”

Davin whistled. “But you control the avalanches, don’t you, Mr. Thorlow? With the howitzer.”

“That’s my job, but avalanche control is hardly an exact science.” Grant shoved his hands into his dark-blue nylon pants. Amalie had moved on to another exhibit.

Don’t stare, man! This is one woman who’s definitely off-limits.

“We monitor air temperature, wind speed and direction, precipitation and relative humidity,” he continued. “Then we perform field tests to check the layers in the snowpack. But people who think they can predict the timing and size of an avalanche with certainty are just kidding themselves. Even the avalanches we trigger intentionally sometimes surprise the heck out of us.”

“Why are there so many avalanches on this part of the highway?” Davin asked, his attention on a large model of the mountain pass that dominated the main room of the information center.

“Steep slopes, lots of snow.” Grant shrugged. “Those are the basic ingredients.”

Amalie was now walking around the three-dimensional replica of the mountain pass. She was about to ask him a question, when he noticed someone at the main doors.

Denise Carter stood there, her brown hair tied back in a ponytail and cheeks pink from the cold. She spotted him right away and he stepped forward to engulf her in a hug.

“Denise. How are you? How are the kids?”

She shook her head at the first question, only answering the second. “The kids are coping…Mom and Dad are with them.” She leaned into his chest, crumbling like powered snow in a harmless sluff.

And then she noticed Amalie.

“Helen?” First shock, then hatred transformed her features and stiffened her body.

“No. I’m her twin sister. Amalie Fremont.”

“You didn’t tell me Helen had a sister. That she would be coming…That she looked so much like…” Denise glared at Grant as if he’d betrayed her in some way.

“Amalie lives in Toronto. I didn’t expect her to travel all this way.” Grant began explanations, then halted. “I’m sorry, Denise. I should have prepared you. I was shocked, too, the first time I saw her.”

Amalie had her hands to her face, as if trying to conceal the features that reminded them all of a different woman.

“You shouldn’t have come here.” Denise made a move toward Amalie, whipping off her mitten to point her finger.

“Denise.” Grant took hold of her arm. “There’s someone else you should know about. A child. His name is Davin.”

At the sound of his name, Davin glanced up from the model. “Hi there,” he said uncertainly, eyeing the peculiar expression on this new stranger’s face.

Denise looked back at Amalie. “Your son?”

“I adopted him and raised him from birth,” she answered. “But he’s really…he’s really Helena’s child.”

“Helen had a child?” She whipped around to Grant. “Did you know this?”