Finding Elizabeth (3 page)

Katherine wedged a chair under the doorknob. The stench of bourbon hung in the air. Feeling violated, she shuddered, headed for the bathroom and stripped quickly, throwing her clothes in the corner. She stepped into the shower and lingered under the relaxing stream. Later, warm and dry, she sank into bed and tried to erase Eric Grundy from her mind. A tough ask. Thoughts bounced from
what fool behaves this way
to
he was a pathetic idiot who had invaded her sanctuary
. She couldn’t imagine him ever becoming dangerous, but then …

A pearl-grey dawn light streamed in through the garret window, waking Katherine from a full night’s dreaming of arguments and should’ve-saids. She peered at her bedside clock. Eight-thirty.

“God, four hours is just not enough.” She thumped her pillow, flopped back, closed her eyes and tried to sleep. It wasn’t happening. There wasn’t a hope in hell that she would get any more sleep.

Coffee beckoned. Katherine stretched and flexed her muscles, flung her legs over the side of the bed and padded to the kitchen. She peeked down the hall and checked the front door; the chair and safety chain were still in place. Hopefully, her threats had Eric scared.

“Doubtful,” she groaned.

Mug of coffee in hand, Katherine headed for the ultra-modern, white bathroom, downed a couple of aspirins, showered, dried herself and dressed in her favourite red pullover, olive green pants and boots. She packed her case, gathered her toiletries and placed everything in the hallway. She grabbed her favourite black coat, shrugged it on and gently eased a red knitted hat over her head. Nothing more needed doing. There were no goldfish or plants for the neighbours to look after. But that was about to change. Her parents’ horrific car accident, which had injured her mother and killed her father, made Katherine take a good look at where her life was heading. What was it they said about trauma? Life begins on the other side of despair.

She flexed her fingers into a pair of leather gloves and stopped to look at a couple of poster-size photos on her wall. One was of her crazy friend, ski champion Leandra Paige, wearing a helmet and electric blue ski gear, a red maple leaf on her thigh, her knees at a perfect angle, as she raced down a pure white slope. That photo always made Katherine smile. The other poster was of herself, dancing the principal role of Odette-Odile in
Swan Lake
. The photographer had said he loved the classic bone structure of her face, the well-defined muscles and the grace of her long limbs.

Grace of my limbs
, Katherine thought. How ironic that her body, her hyperflexibility that made her dancing so spectacular, had also caused the injuries that forced her early retirement.

The jangling phone cut through the quiet space. Before answering it, she paused to read the caller’s number, then picked up the receiver.

“Hi, Lea.”

“Oh, you’ve got one of
those
phones,” Leandra said.

“Yeah, how are you? How was Chamonix?”

“Great, I came third. I kept getting airborne, damn it. Sorry I couldn’t be there for your last performance, I feel awful. I couldn’t get a flight out of Geneva in time.”

“Don’t worry. It’s winter and you’re busy. Can you make it to the charity performance at Spruce? After that, everyone can stop worrying about me. I’ve been on Pierre’s mind for years, poor man.”

“Not me, I never worried about you,” Leandra giggled. “I’m too busy worrying about Mum worrying about me. Just as well she’s in Spain soaking up the sun and worrying with your mum. I haven’t heard anything the last few days. Now I’m worrying about them. And I have to drop by Mum’s sports store to make sure everything’s okay so she won’t worry. God, everyone should just stop worrying. How are they?”

“Mum sounds great. I think your mum is making her laugh a lot.” Katherine smiled. “I half expected you would drop in on them.”

“Not yet—after Lake Louise women’s downhill next week. Are you staying in Calgary until the performance?”

“No. When I came home last night, Eric was sitting on my sofa.”

“Crap! What’s the matter with him? What gives him the idea he can just do that?”

“I don’t know. The police said some stalkers fixate on a stranger; sometimes it’s a person in the public eye. Some believe their attentions will eventually win the love of their victim. Or they may have delusions that their victim already loves them. I think his mother is a big fan and he’s trying to win her affection, using me.”

“
Eeywh!
That’s sick and scary! You’d better wait ’til I get home before you go anywhere.”

“He won’t find me at the cabin. I’m sure he thinks I haven’t got the nerve, not with the anniversary of Dad’s funeral. It’s hard to imagine it’s nearly twelve months since the accident.”

“I know. Do me a favour and get in touch with the Valley police.”

“I have to drop by the Calgary police and leave a statement. I’ll get them to call Spruce Valley. What a mess,” Katherine sighed. “Let’s change the subject.”

“Okay, I have a plan. After your performance, you and I are going skiing.”

“Skiing?!”

“Yeah, you get two long, thin planks, strap them to your feet and head downhill, fast. Remember how it was? Like anything fun, if you’ve done it once you never forget. Bit like sex really,” Leandra giggled.

“There’s no comparison.” Katherine laughed. “You’re thinking of bikes—once you’ve ridden one, you never forget. And anyway, it’s been ages since I had sex. I daydream, no one leaves and no one gets hurt. Sex is so overrated.”

“
Ohh
, you poor darling! Get over yourself, you just haven’t met the right guy. They’re out there, you know, and the right one
can
rock your world.”

Laughter bubbled like a tickle inside Katherine. “No wonder I love you. I can always rely on you to tell me how it is.”

“What are friends for? If you’re not going to socialise and meet guys, you could buy a toy—they do have those, you know. There’s no man attached, you keep them in a drawer and they can’t ever leave. It’s great. And there are these other gadgets that open up like a—”

“Stop it, I’m horrified,” Katherine laughed. “And who said anything about not socialising? I’ve retired from ballet not
retired
retired.”

“You’re funny,” Leandra giggled. She paused as an announcement echoed through the air terminal calling for passengers. “Hey, gotta go, sweet-cheeks. See you backstage.”

Smiling to herself, Katherine put the receiver down. She gathered her things, locked the door and hauled her suitcase downstairs to the security car park and her bright red Ford Taurus. She made a statement at the police station and drove out of the shadows of Calgary’s tall buildings and into a bright sunny day.

It was a glorious day for a drive. Determined to put the chaos behind her, Katherine turned on her CD player and sang at the top of her lungs with Cold Play. Before she knew it, the great Rocky Mountains loomed on either side of wide valleys and foothills. Bleak winter sun glistened off the icy Bow River and snow-covered township of Spruce Valley. A chill surged through her as she turned her car towards the final crest on Mountain View Road. In the next breath, the family cabin came into view, nestled among the snow-covered firs.

Reaching the top of her driveway, she stopped and peered at the snowdrifts covering the garden and blocking entry into the garage. Sadness filled her at seeing the cabin grounds uncared for. Quickly she turned away, grabbed her bags, hopped out of her car and ploughed through the pristine powder snow.

Facing the heavy timber door, she dropped her luggage and wondered how she would cope in the empty cabin. Her breath condensed in front of her face until the softest puff of wind dispersed it.

“Enough already,” she muttered and worked the key into the frozen lock. A lifetime of happy memories flooded her mind of all the times she’d spent here with her family. She turned the knob on the rustic, carved door, but time and freezing temperatures had made the door swell and stick firmly in the frame.

“Damn it!” Katherine took a step back and thumped her boot against the door several times. The booming sound echoed through the cabin and into the surrounding, snow-covered countryside.

“Hey, what d’ya think ya’re doin’!” a raspy old voice called out from the top of her drive.

Katherine turned to see her short-sighted, bow-legged eighty-year-old neighbour, who she’d known forever. A hand over his brow to cut the glare, nose wrinkled, he squinted down at her.

“George, it’s me, Katherine! For heaven’s sake, put your glasses on!”

George muttered a few expletives and pulled a pair from the inside pocket of his Michelin Man-style parka. He put them on his nose and peered down the slope.

“Ah, Katy! Heard the bangin’ and yellin’. Thought someone was tryin’ ta break in.” He gave a wicked chuckle-wheeze, and scratched his head. “Thieves wouldn’t be that noisy, would they?”

“No.” She smiled up at him. “It’s just me having an argument with the door. You know how it is—stuck again. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. How’s Francie?”

“She’s good. I’ll tell her you asked. Been married sixty-two years now.” He wheeze-chuckled again. “And she still loves me.”

“You make it sound as if it’s a miracle, George.” Katherine ploughed up the drive using the indentation she’d made earlier. Arms wide, George stepped into her hug. She kissed his cheeks. “One for Francie.”

“Been keepin’ an eye on the place for ya.”

“Thank you very much, I appreciate it. Please go inside before you freeze and Francie starts looking for you.”

“Okay. We’re home if ya need anything.” George waved and shuffled off muttering, “We’re always home, don’t go nowhere no more.”

Back at the door, Katherine braced her feet and shoved with all her might. It creaked open. She stepped over the threshold into the vestibule. Behind her, the snow-filled clouds parted and sunlight filled the entrance. Like a welcoming, its early morning glow shone onto the oval mirror hanging on the wall opposite the doorway. If her mother were here, she’d joke around and say, “Welcome home, dear. Do you like what I did with the clouds?” She could almost hear her dad call out, “Katy’s home!” He would stride across the living room to give her a bear hug; she could almost feel him. A sense of love flowed, warming her from the inside out. “Hi, Dad,” she whispered.

Katherine shoved the door closed, pulled her hat and scarf off, threw them on a hook and smoothed back her hair.

The tarnished mirror had reflected her growth over the years, from standing on a stool to fix her hair or adjust her hat, through the tiptoe stage. A growth spurt during adolescence meant she could easily see herself.

Right now, she would give anything to relive that time again, a time of youthful exuberance. When she could dance until her feet bled and she didn’t care. When nothing hurt.

The familiar fragrances of wood smoke and lavender filled her senses. Her father was gone, yet his life, his essence was all around. Old family photographs in ornate silver frames. A crocheted throw rug draped across his favourite chair along with a needlework cushion, both lovingly made by her mum. She could almost see the smile on her dad’s face. He would look up from his paper to watch her mother’s deft fingers, pinkie raised, the light gleaming on her embroidery needle as she perfected her needlework.

“I’m home,” Katherine called out, and wondered if the regret aching inside her would ever ease. She hadn’t made it to her father’s bedside to tell him she loved him, to hold his hand when he uttered his last words and said he loved her and always would.

It seemed like only yesterday, but a year had passed since that simple trip to watch her dance. Their visit of a few days had turned to disaster when a road train skidded on black ice. Her parents hadn’t had a chance. Katherine’s mother Margaret had multiple injuries; her father Henry passed away a few hours later. Leandra’s mother Cynthia and Margaret had been best friends since university. When Canada’s freezing winter made Margaret’s recovery more difficult, Cynthia had put a manager in her sports store and taken her to sunny Spain.

Katherine cranked up the central heating that kept the cabin’s pipes from freezing. She pulled off her gloves and stuffed them into her pockets, arranged paper and kindling in the fireplace, and soon had a roaring fire going. She held her hands near the flames, warming them before going into the kitchen to light the wood stove. A cosy fire was a must in the mountains.

When the cabin was comfortably warm, she stripped off her winter coat and pulled her suitcases down the hall. The wheels thundered across the old timber floor. She left them by her door and walked into her parents’ bedroom. Her father’s photo stood on her mother’s dressing table. His beautiful smile lifted her heart.

“Hi, Dad. I’m okay.” She kissed her fingertips and touched his photo.

Collecting her bags, she carried them into her bedroom. The bluebirds and peonies chintz quilt was faded and tired with age, but it still managed to make the timber room look feminine. Katherine unpacked and changed into a pair of navy blue ski pants and matching goose-feather jacket to hike into Spruce Valley for supplies. Her mobile sang, hip-hop style, ‘Answer your phone—Answer your phone’; Leandra’s idea of fun. Quickly Katherine dug it out of her bag, read the name and number and smiled.

“Hi, Mum!” There was no reply. “Damn, no reception.” Some days were worse than others. She took her shoes off and stood carefully on the padded dining chair. “Okay, can you hear me?”

“Yes, sweetheart. Be careful when you get off the chair.”

Katherine laughed. “How did you know I was home on the chair? And why didn’t you call the landline?”

“Leandra spoke to Cynthia just a few minutes ago. I tried your apartment, but there was no answer. I assumed you’d already left for the cabin. I knew I’d get hold of you on the mobile. We know all about this Eric person. Promise me you’ll call in at the police station and report him today.”

“He won’t know I’m here.” She heard her mother sigh. “But I’ll do as you ask.”

“Thank you. How was last night? I’m so sorry we missed it. There are no flights, due to volcanic ash. It’s dreadful—not for us, we’re fine—but for everyone else involved.” Her mother sounded better; stronger, but sad. “The airport is overflowing with people trying to get home. I desperately want to, for … for Henry, to visit his grave on Tuesday. I’ll never make it at this rate. And then Christmas … I can’t promise anything, and I wish you both could come and join us. But if we can’t fly out, you can’t fly in. It’s a disaster.”