Mystery in the Mist novel (Chap. 8)

CHAPTER EIGHT

 

Troy thought life was getting hard to figure out. Growing up is complicated. Dad once read, “The more you know, the more you find out how little you know.”

Maybe by the time Troy reached Dad's age, he'd understand it all. Right now there were too many questions buzzing around.

            As far as Troy knew, the weather was acting very strange. In fact it was really weird. It kept snowing and sleeting. Each time he thought about fishing, the weather seemed to get worse. It seemed to be trying to erase any possibility of getting anything done. They may as well work since fishing was out of the question for now. 

            He didn’t even feel like talking with JC. Why did it make Dad have a ‘hairy’? Everything seemed to be against Troy.

            This was not cool, not at all.

            And that package that came in the mail? What was that about? Dad was acting really secretive, whenever Troy was around. He'd be reading some papers, then suddenly put them in his pocket.

            Troy couldn’t wait to solve the mystery of what Dad was hiding from him.  

            For the first time since they moved here a magical adventure was taking place. Something really exciting was happening and Dad wanted no part of it.

No longer did Troy worry about living in the country. It didn’t even matter if any friends visited, or, phoned to tell him any news. Something special had come to their campground.

And he was just the right fellow to get to the bottom of things.

Troy wasn't excited about going to school on Monday. He might have to finally admit making up fictitious stories about JC.

            Besides, having make-believe conversations wasn't such fun anymore. He knew it was something he'd have to get over. Soon he’d be twelve.

            Maybe Troy should start taking it easy, instead of getting upset and worrying about silly things.

            So what if he fainted and went to the hospital? At least the doctor said he was fine. Dad didn’t seem too worried. So, why should he?

            A thought streaked across his mind. “JC, let's check the kitchen utensil drawer. That's where Dad usually keeps his mail.” It was an unspoken rule between Troy and Dad not to open each other’s mail. But what harm was there in seeing to whom that mysterious package was addressed?

            Troy tiptoed across the floor, past a couple of stair squeaks, then into the kitchen. He felt like a soldier on the front lines. “OK JC, the coast is clear.” The drawer eased open as if Dad had just greased it. Troy pulled out all kinds of paper and placed everything on the kitchen table.

            Dad was keeping real busy right now, snoring loudly on the living room sofa.

            Later Troy would go in and take out all the ‘empties’.

            There was a whole stack of bills held together with an elastic band. All were addressed to Dad. Then Troy spotted something interesting. It was an empty envelope from Carsand Mosher's, the Truro photography shop, but no letter. That was surely strange.

            Every other envelope had their contents in them except this one.

            Maybe Troy should ask Dad about whether or not he had some new photos developed. He didn't remember Dad taking any pictures recently.

            Would Dad get angry and ask why he was snooping through his private mail?

            “What do you think he'd say, JC?”

“UH…UH.”       

One of these days, Troy would have to stop this conversation. In a few years JC would be just a memory. But right now he was a good pal to have around.

            Troy knew he was going to miss him.

            Usually measuring and sawing and hammering were interesting. Sometimes they were fun. But today was not a good day. Troy had other plans he preferred to do. Never mind if Dad needed his help.

            He would like to get back to the ‘glowing place’. Correction, he must go to that place again. He hadn’t felt such peace in his heart for a long time. Troy wanted to visit there so badly he was prepared to disobey Dad's wishes.

            Better still, Troy had to find a way to get Dad to come. If only he could show him how much fun that man and boy were having. Maybe it would take Dad's mind off things...like being mad at Troy. Also, he shouldn’t drink so much to forget about Mom's death.

            He wanted his old dad back again. 

            Troy closed his eyes and created a scene. It was so good to pretend Dad and Troy were sitting on the banks of the Debert River; not that stranger and his father. Imagine, fishing together, just the two of them.

“Having a good time, son?” Dad might say. Then Troy would walk over and give him a high five and answer, “Cool.”           

            He knew it could happen.

            Troy carried pieces of 'two by four' lumber to cabin 8. They had been carefully measured and cut a couple of days ago. Finally the material was going to be used. Apparently last summer an argument between two boys got out of hand. 

            Dad said a kid got hurt when he was pushed hard against the wall.

Good thing the wall was rotten, Troy thought.

“It was during a pillow fight,” Dad said. “Must have been a rough one.”

            It was hard to understand why anyone would want to hurt anyone. There was physical hurt and then the other kind. Troy knew what that other 'hurt' was all about. It wasn't nice being sad.

            Troy kept walking slowly around the cabin. Dad wasn't watching. He was probably sitting down somewhere thinking tomorrow might be a better time to get some work done.

            Or, better still, maybe there was another cold beer in the fridge.      

            Troy quietly placed the lumber on the ground. As if Dad could hear any noise or movement with the whistling wind coming in from the west.

        “Dad. DAAD!” he called out, just to make sure. Good, he can't hear. Sometimes Dad liked to sneak up on him. Lately though, Dad wasn't in any mood for playing games of hide and seek.

            Troy deliberately made a lot of noise, nailing a few boards to the damaged wall. He made sure anyone could hear from a long distance. “There, can't say I didn't do any work.”

            Troy climbed onto the porch and fished his leg over the lower part of the cabin roof. Then heaved himself over the rough shingles. It was more than a little scratchy on the hands, even if it was covered in slush.

            He slowly made his way to the peak of the roof, carefully looking around. This must be the type of thrill an eagle felt when soaring overhead.

            Troy wanted to see if the glow was still there. And it was!   He knew his imagination had not gone out of control.

            The glow beyond the trees was real. Thrills shivered up and down his back. Something was calling him. More like a warm wind on a quiet evening. As if someone tugged on his shirt.

            Should he really go back there without Dad's permission? He closed his eyes thoughtfully and chewed his lip, desperate for a decision. What to do? Thinking about his past experience there almost made him dizzy.

            He wanted to feel the deep grass under his feet once again. Watching birds perform their acrobats, and smelling a fresh scent of flowers.

A large raven perched on a nearby branch. It cocked its head then flapped massive wings, heading through the miserable weather. He seemed to know shelter and warmth was waiting.

Just beyond the trees.

Broad wings moved effortlessly, teasing the boy.

            It was very tempting to follow. Why not?

            "Well...are you going back or not?" JC was like a spear penetrating his thoughts. It startled Troy. But it wasn't unexpected.

             “I see you're back.” Troy brushed away his hair and stretched. “Yes, I just might do that,” he answered boldly.

"What  if Dad says, no?" JC fired the question right back.

            “Maybe I should wait and make sure he’s back in the house asleep.” Troy thumped his clenched fist against his chest, like a warrior. It was time to make a decision.

            “I'm going right now,” he boasted. “You coming?”