Thirty-year-old Sarah Ingram slowly sipped her hot black coffee and looked out the balcony window of her sister’s sixth floor apartment. The weather outside looked deceptively warm for the middle of November and the slumbering stone form of the Sleeping Giant seemed to be reclining peacefully in the bay. The large peninsular land mass was a prominent landmark, best seen from the Thunder Bay harbour front. It resembled a man, lying on his back, with his hands crossed over his chest. There were many Native Canadian legends about the large figure they called Nanibijou. Sarah’s favourite was the one in which the spirit of the mighty Nanibijou called up an awe-inspiring storm to punish the white men for daring to steal silver from his sacred mine. After the storm, his people gazed across the bay in horror, seeing that their revered protector had been transformed to stone because of his magical exertion.

Sarah loved watching the sun rise over the Giant. She hadn’t had many opportunities to just sit and watch the sun rise since she had gotten married three years ago. She sighed resignedly and listened for the tell-tale sounds of her sister emerging from the shower. Last night they had made an impulsive decision to take a road trip to an expensive spa located just across the border in the United States. They had booked an overnight stay in the most extravagant room available and planned to take full advantage of the spa services. Christine insisted that they really deserved a nice, relaxing break from reality, and that Sarah’s husband, Paul, deserved to foot the bill. Sarah had to agree that both ideas sounded good to her at this point.

Christine walked into the room, a big fluffy blue towel wrapped around her long, curly blond hair.

“Feeling recharged?” she asked, looking brightly, but carefully, at Sarah, almost as if she were afraid that her sister might fall apart at any second.

“I’m fine. Quit worrying about me. I’m just looking forward to a nice massage. Who knows, maybe I’ll even get a manicure.” Sarah was grateful for her sister’s concern, but every time she saw that worried look on Christine’s face it reminded her that she had good reason to be upset. She forced a smile to her face, trying to convince Christine that she was doing much better today than she had been the night before.

Last night, when they had called The Blue Cove Inn and Spa, the desk clerk must have thought they were crazy, the way they were giggling when they had made their reservation. Or maybe he could tell that they were nearly falling-down drunk. Three bottles of Rosé could do that to someone – or some-two as the case may be. The wine had been Christine’s idea of how to cheer up her emotionally devastated sister. The silliness had helped to temporarily numb the pain, although it had returned all too quickly this morning.

Sarah did wish, however, that she had gotten a bit more sleep – it might have helped with the hangover she was currently experiencing. Her head was aching and she was too nauseated to even enjoy her morning coffee. The fact that she had a horrible cold didn’t improve matters. However, her coffee cup, still warm in her hands, let off some nice aromatic steam that seemed to help a bit – as long as she didn’t actually try to drink too much of it. The thought of the acidic coffee hitting her stomach made her stomach wince. Nevertheless, she breathed in the pungent scent, grateful for any wakening effects it might have. She still felt as if she was in a trance, but that wasn’t solely from the wine. It was probably due more to the fact that her husband had, for all intents and purposes, destroyed her world yesterday. She pushed herself up out of the chair and thrust all negative thoughts back to the corner of her mind as she started to pack her things for the road trip.

An hour later, the two women were speeding down the road in Sarah’s red 1992 Pontiac Grand Am, heading south. Sarah was at the wheel and singing soulfully along to the radio. The old Leonard Cohen version of “Everybody Knows” was playing, and it was the deep, dark kind of song that matched her current mood perfectly.

Despite the sunny start to the day, rain clouds were now suspended overhead and a thick fog had started to roll in. Thus far oblivious to the changing weather, the women chatted about inconsequential things as they sped down the lonely highway. Christine described some of the comedic antics of her grade three students in her class at CD Howe Elementary School. She’d been a teacher there for four years now, and she had yet to develop the cynicism that plagued so many of her colleagues. Christine still saw every child as her own personal project to mould and shape into a future citizen. She hadn’t yet experienced enough disappointments to taint her sunny view of the world.  Sarah hoped that she never would, but knew that the inevitability of some students falling through the cracks would eventually bring her sister’s optimism down.

The fog was really rolling in now. The edges of the highway were barely visible to her straining eyes and Sarah could feel the adrenaline starting to flow as the driving became more and more hazardous. She slowed their speed to a crawl, afraid that oncoming cars wouldn’t see her or that she would inadvertently cross the highway dividing line.

What normally was a vista of rolling hills, majestic forests, and lush farmland, was now obscured by a thick mantle of mist. The vapours were sliding over the hood and windshield of the car like blankets of silk and the combined effect was eerie.

Neither Sarah nor Christine were talking now. The conversation had just faded off as the driving became more perilous, almost as if their spoken words had been swallowed by the fog as well.

The road itself became rougher, and the small area of motorway that Sarah could see in front of the car changed suddenly from pavement to gravel.

“Well that’s just great. Now I can’t even tell if I’m on the right side of the road. Christine, watch for any houses or gas stations or … heck even just a light would be good.”

Christine stared intently out of the passenger side window as they continued. Sarah was tempted to pull over, but she didn’t know where the shoulders of the road began anymore and was afraid that if she just stopped the car they wouldn’t be seen by any oncoming traffic until it was too late. To top it off, the gas gauge was now reading less than a quarter of a tank full. They had been planning to fill up with cheaper American gas at Ryden’s Gas Bar, directly on the other side of the border, but it didn’t seem as if they’d be reaching the border any time soon.

Suddenly Christine sat up straight.

“There’s a light … over there … on my side, just ahead.”

Sarah saw it now too, and pulled slowly and carefully off of the road and let the car coast to a stop in front of a small, rustic-looking house. She turned the engine off and they both just sat in the car, not saying anything for a few minutes.

“Should we go to the door?  Or should we just wait here until the fog passes?” asked Christine.

Sarah looked at her watch and saw that it was just after six in the evening. Her stomach was rumbling, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten much that morning. She hadn’t even tried to have lunch, given the upset nature of her post-drinking night stomach.

“I don’t know if there’s anyone home. It looks like there’s a light on outside, so I guess it wouldn’t hurt to knock on the door. This is awfully strange weather.”

Sarah was just reaching down for the door handle when there was a knock on Christine’s window. Both women jumped and gasped in surprise. They could see a big, man-shaped figure standing beside the car. Christine looked at Sarah for guidance, a look of apprehension bright in her eyes.

“Just roll it down a crack,” Sarah said, her voice quivering just slightly.

Once the window was down, a pair of kindly blue eyes looked in at the two women.

“Well, hello there. Caught in the fog, were you? Not a very good night to be out. My name’s Gerwin.”  The voice was unmistakably masculine, with a slight gravely tone, and a rough accent that Sarah found vaguely familiar but couldn’t place. Both women visibly relaxed at the friendly tone of Gerwin’s voice.

“Really strange weather today, huh? Started out all sunny and now this … fog.” Christine peered through the open space of the window at Gerwin, and then impulsively rolled it all the way down before Sarah could protest.

Gerwin was a much older man, maybe seventy years old, with white hair and a wonderfully kind smile. His deep blue eyes were surrounded by the lines of age that Sarah liked to call ‘crinkles’ because of the way they bunched together when people smiled. His smile, so obviously genuine, reached beyond his eyes to every other part of his face. In fact, it seemed to almost reach right inside of Sarah and she finally felt herself start to relax.

“Would you girls like to come in?  My wife, Elke, was just making supper, and we would be happy to have you join us.”

Gerwin’s smile was infectious and Christine couldn’t help but smile back. She looked over at Sarah, who nodded. Supper sounded great to their grumbling stomachs – and it would be nice to be inside and away from this almost unnatural fog. It actually reminded Sarah of a story from a Stephen King novel where monsters came out of the mist and killed everyone. She had read the short novel as a teenager and had suffered from nightmares about it for weeks.  This fog seemed to envelope her in dread and she just wanted to get out of it.

They got out of the car and walked towards the house. The house appeared to have been constructed using a very old-fashioned method, with logs instead of siding, a technique that Sarah really admired. She had always dreamed of getting away from city living and escaping to a more rustic way of life. She was startled, however, to notice that the light they had seen from the road was an old oil-lantern hanging from a brass hook by the front door. Gerwin noticed her reaction and smiled.

“Elke and I like the simple life. We don’t put much stock in modern things, so we just keep everything old-fashioned around here”

Sarah looked over at Christine, who shrugged. It seemed strange, but she completely understood the sentiment. Modern life, with all of its technology, was certainly less physically demanding, but it added stresses that most people didn’t realize.

Entering the house was like taking a step further back in time. There was no Ikea-style furniture here. Everything was made of wood and obviously hand-crafted. They entered directly into what appeared to be a combination dining and living room, with a lovely old-fashioned stone fireplace dominating the space. A roaring fire greeted them and Sarah finally began to feel that overwhelming feeling of trepidation that had been brought on by the fog melt away.

“Have a seat, and I’ll tell Elke you’ll be joining us.” Gerwin spoke softly as he walked through a door into what must have been the kitchen.

Sarah plopped down on the couch. The blue hand-crafted cushions beneath her were surprisingly comfortable and the warmth of the fire helped to draw out not only the last anxious effects of the fog, but also the chill caused by the damp weather outside.

“This place is so cute!” declared Christine, “I love this. It must be so nice to live in such quiet solitude.”

Sarah had to agree. The rough surroundings, instead of giving an uncomfortable feeling of primitivism, exuded warmth and calmness.  It seemed like the perfect life for an elderly couple.  She wondered what they had done before they moved out here and withdrew from ‘civilization’.
Just then, Gerwin re-entered the room with a sweet-looking older woman that must have been Elke. In addition to the friendly crinkles next to her soft brown eyes, she also had a rosy bow-shaped mouth that smiled warmly at the two women.

“I’m so glad you’re able to join us,” she said brightly, “I’ve made too much food for just the two of us tonight and it will be a real relief to have some extra people help us to eat it. I would hate to have it go to waste.”

Sarah only then noticed the delightful aroma that filled the house. It smelled like Elke had been slaving over the stove all day. She closed her eyes and inhaled slowly through her nose. There was definitely a roast of some sort cooking in the other room.

The two women sat down and waited at the big wooden table with Gerwin while Elke brought out the food. It was an enormous roast on a platter, surrounded by a wonderful assortment of carrots, potatoes, and turnips. It smelled absolutely heavenly to the two famished women.

“Is that beef?” asked Christine, curious because the roast smelled somewhat different from those that her and Sarah’s mom had used to make for Sunday dinners.

“No, venison. We could never eat our cow. Bessie is like part of our family,” replied Elke with a twinkle in her eye.

While Sarah was surprised to be eating deer meat, she found it to be a delicious change from her constant diet of beef and pork. Soon everyone was quiet as they got down to the business of eating.

After dinner, Elke brought out cups of aromatic herbal tea for everyone and they sat quietly by the fire, each lost in their own thoughts. Every so often, Gerwin would get up and look out the front window, almost as if he were expecting more visitors. Sarah was surprised that she had heard no other cars drive by. Usually, the road to the American border was pretty well-travelled, with many people driving across every day to either the Casino on the other side, or to the nearby cities of Duluth and Minneapolis for shopping or concerts. Maybe the dreary weather had scared everyone off of the road, as well.

Remembering her earlier musing about the prior professions of the couple, Sarah interrupted the silence. “So, what did you two do before you moved out here?”

Gerwin and Elke exchanged wary glances. There was a momentary, somewhat awkward pause and Sarah was just starting to wish that she could take back the question when Gerwin finally answered.

“I was a … bus driver. Elke stayed home and took care of things around the house.”

“Did you drive a school bus or a city bus?” Christine enquired, thinking about her students. Sarah could see how uncomfortable the couple seemed to be even thinking about the topic and tried to catch Christine’s eye to get her to drop the subject, but Christine was leaning forward, waiting for Gerwin’s answer.

Gerwin looked like he was trying to decide how to answer. Finally he just mumbled “a school bus” and took a quick sip of his tea.

Christine finally sensed that she had brought up a sensitive subject for him, although she didn’t have any idea what could be so distressing about having driven a bus. She decided to drop the matter, rather than cause their generous hosts any further discomfort. Perhaps there had been an accident, or Gerwin had lost his license for some reason. They hadn’t seen any other cars in front of the house when they had arrived; perhaps neither of the couple drove now.

After awhile, the awkwardness faded and Sarah began to yawn. It was getting late and both girls were exhausted, still not fully recovered from their late night girls’ session the night before.

“Oh!” exclaimed Elke, looking distressed, almost as if she were experiencing some undeserved feelings of guilt for failing as a hostess, “You two have to stay the night. You can’t go back out in this terrible weather. I’ll show you to our guest room and you can get some rest. I’m sure the skies will be all cleared up by tomorrow morning.”

Glancing out the window, she saw that the fog was still thick outside at the moment and Sarah had to admit that they wouldn’t be going anywhere that night. The offer of a warm, dry bed was very attractive. Except for Gerwin’s evasiveness about his job, the couple seemed very nice and completely harmless. Sarah looked over at Christine and saw that her sister looked exhausted as well.

“We’d love to stay. Thank you so much for rescuing us tonight,” she smiled warmly at the couple, who smiled back.

Elke got up from the couch, took a candle from the fireplace mantle, lit it, and led them through the kitchen, and up a set of stairs leading from the back of the house. At the top, the girls saw that there was one door on each side of a small hallway.

“I hope you two won’t mind sharing a bed,” said Elke, apologetically.

“But I hope we’re not putting you out of your own bed.  We can sleep on the couch, or the floor,” Sarah protested, thinking that the other door must be a bathroom.

“Oh no, that’s our room right there,” Elke said, pointing to the other door.

Sarah was a little confused.  She hadn’t seen any other doors or rooms in the house that could have held a bathroom. Just thinking about it made her realize that her bladder was feeling quite full.

Elke seemed eager to leave them alone. “Well, goodnight girls,” she said. “I’ll have a nice breakfast waiting for you when you get up tomorrow morning. Sweet dreams.” Elke handed Sarah the candle and hurried back downstairs before she had any chance to ask about the bathroom.

When Sarah and Christine entered the guest room, a feeling of utter relaxation enveloped them both like a warm blanket. The room was simply decorated, like the rest of the house, but the home-made quilt on the bed and the aroma of potpourri added the perfect touches to make it special. There was an oil-lamp on a dresser beside the bed, and the room was softly lit in no time.

“I’ll just run downstairs and grab our overnight bags out of the car. I’ll make sure to ask Gerwin and Elke about the bathroom while I’m down there,” Sarah volunteered. Christine just nodded in silent agreement and flopped down on the bed, closing her weary eyes.

Sarah retrieved the candle and walked back down the stairs. She could hear Gerwin and Elke talking in muffled voices downstairs. She instinctively strained to hear what they were saying, but found that she couldn’t understand a single word. It didn’t even sound like they were speaking English. The conversation broke off abruptlz when Sarah entered the room.

“I’m just running out to grab our bags from the car.  I’ll be right back.”

Gerwin and Elke shared another one of those mysterious looks as Sarah went out the door. Sarah was starting to wonder what they were being so secretive about, but felt bad about intruding on them.

Coming back into the house after grabbing the two backpacks from the trunk of the car she was greeted by more welcoming smiles from Gerwin and Elke. She figured she had just startled them by coming downstairs unexpectedly. It couldn’t have been all that comfortable, after all, having two strangers intrude on them out of the fog without warning. She did have one more question to ask, however, before she could leave them in peace.

“Um, I was just wondering where the bathroom was?” Sarah asked, somewhat timidly.

“Oh, there’s a chamber pot in the closet of your room. Just use that,” said Elke, “I’ll clean it out in the morning. Unless you want to go out back to the outhouse, that is.”

Despite the simplicity of the house, Sarah could not hide her surprise at the lack of indoor plumbing. It made any questions she might have had about the behaviour of the couple when she had first come into the room vanish. Speechless, she nodded and went back upstairs to the guest room.

Christine was already asleep, snoring softly.  Sarah went over to the closet, opened the door, and found the chamber pot there, just as Elke had said. She dragged it out into the room and looked at it speculatively. Part of her was happy that Christine was asleep and couldn’t see her trying to squat down and use the chamber pot; the other part wished she was awake and could marvel with her at the utter lack of any twentieth-century technology in the house.

After doing her business she carefully pushed the chamber pot back into the closet, firmly closing the door and securing any unpleasant smells safely into the small space. She then slipped into a pair of pyjamas from her overnight bag and slid gratefully under the covers, expecting to immediately drift off to sleep. Unfortunately, despite being in a blissfully comfortable bed, Sarah just tossed and turned.
Her mind started out full of confusing thoughts about the couple downstairs, but it gradually moved on to angry thoughts about her husband  He was a treacherous bastard! She unsuccessfully tried to keep her mind from replaying the events from Friday over and over in her head like a movie. She eventually succeeded, or so she thought, and finally slipped off into a fitful sleep.

Sarah was getting out of her car in the driveway of the small house she and Paul shared on Oliver Road. She had come home from her job as a medical secretary after only an hour, because her bad cold had left her in no state to be having contact with patients. Working for doctors was a good thing – you never had to feel guilty about staying home, or going home, when you were sick. But the downside was that sometimes they also sent you home when you still felt good enough to work.

As she walked up the four steps to her front door, Sarah felt a sense of dread settle over her. She had been here before. She didn’t want to do this. Her hand rested on the handle of the door, and although she tried to pull it away, her hand was stuck to it, as if it had been glued there.

Suddenly, Paul thrust open the door and glared out at her.

“What are you doing here?! You shouldn’t be here! You’re too ugly for me.  You’re a big fat cow! You’re worthless!! I’ll suck every last little bit of happiness out of you if it’s the last thing I ever do!!” He screamed at her, his face red with anger, his mouth twisted cruelly, and his eyes blazing.

He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her backwards off the steps.  Sarah fell backwards and kept falling.

 

Read Chapter 2 next Wednesday, October 5th, 2011 . . .

 

Want to read more now? You can buy the book on Amazon.com, Amazon.ca, Amazon.de, Barnes and Noble, Powell’s Books, Flipkart.com, Bookadda.com, Bookdepository.com, Booksygen.com, Thalia.de

 

Or you can get a signed copy or pdf version here.

In the upcoming weeks, we will be adding mobi, lit, and epub versions.