Hannah and the Wild Woods Page 6

  Sabrina stands just inside the door, looking extremely bad-tempered. Her tight designer jeans are soaked through, and her stylish boots are beginning to show signs of stress. She takes off her gloves, pulling each finger off slowly and deliberately, staring at me the whole time, as if the rain is somehow my fault.

  “It’s very beautiful here,” Kimiko says, to no one in particular, pulling off her boots. “The trees! They’re so big. Those big ones by the sand, on the point, I especially like those.”

  “Sitka spruce,” Jade says. “A very handy tree.” She looks at Sabrina’s boots and frowns. “And you could totally use some spruce pitch for those boots, girl!”

  “Excuse me?” Sabrina says.

  “Pitch,” Peter says. “First Nations all up and down the coast used to waterproof their stuff with it. Some still do. Works pretty well.”

  “Um,” Sabrina says. “I don’t think so. These boots are Italian leather?”

  “Well,” Peter says, chuckling, “can’t imagine your feet care much.”

  Sabrina continues to sulk, while Kimiko stares mindlessly out the window. Norman is still behaving strangely, pacing back and forth across the hallway; he can’t seem to settle.

  “Ew,” Sabrina says when he eventually ventures into the dining room to hide under the table. “That dog reeks.”

  “His name,” I say, “is Norman.”

  “Whatever. He’s still offensive.”

  So are you and the half bottle of Eau du Gross you put on this morning.

  “He’s also acting like a nut bar,” Peter says, reaching up to hang his jacket on a hook in the hallway. “Never known him to pass up a day on the beach.” I don’t say anything, but it looks to me like Norman is more concerned with Kimiko’s presence than playing a game of fetch on the sand.

  “Are you feeling better now, Hannah?” Jade asks, placing her hand on my shoulder.

  “Much. Thanks.”

  She notices my mug in front of me on the table. “Hey! Did Ruth do a reading for you?”

  “Uh huh.”

  “Awesome! I hope you took notes. When she did mine, she was spot on.” Jade looks over at Peter all mushy-faced, and he winks at her.

  “What did she see in your cup?” I ask, even though I’m almost positive it had something to do with Cupid and love, or more specifically, Peter.

  “Oh, a black bird, and a tiny heart in the corner.”

  “Hah,” I say. “Not hard to figure that one out.”

  Peter and Jade exchange sappy, love-struck expressions before peering more intently into my cup.

  “So?” Peter says. “How does your future look?”

  “I’m not sure,” I say. “The reading was sort of cryptic, you know?”

  “It can be like that at first,” Jade says matter-of-factly. “Just wait it out. It’ll all come together. You’ll see. Ruth is seldom wrong about this stuff.”

  Sabrina rolls her eyes when she thinks no one is looking. But I see her. I’ve been watching both her and Kimiko ever since she came in, trying to see if either one of them looks like they might have something to hide.

  The rain lets up a little after lunch.

  We all trudge down to the beach, the others having changed into dry clothes and especially, dry socks. Ruth insists Sabrina wear a pair of her old rubber boots, and although she’s always maintained she would never be caught dead in galoshes, she puts them on.

  Once I’m out on the sand, the fresh salt air feels wonderful on my face, and the last foggy remnants of my migraine disappear altogether.

  I watch with wonder as Kimiko hops along the wet driftwood as though she’s part cat. She leaps from log to log, barely even touching down before she jumps to the next one—it’s as though she has springs in her feet! And man, is she fast! I watch her dart back and forth, up and over, and when she jumps effortlessly to the top of a three-foot high stump from a complete standstill, my jaw drops.

  “Wait. How did you do that?” I say incredulously. “You must take gymnastics or something!”

  She whirls around in surprise, but stays perfectly poised on one foot. “Oh! Hi! No. I’m just … I’m quite sure-footed, that’s all.”

  “Wow. I’ll say!”

  A fat, grey mouse scurries over her foot and down the side of the stump. In a flash, Kimiko springs onto the sand, landing on all fours, just missing the tip of the mouse’s tail. She gets up quickly, brushing sand away from her knees, clearly embarrassed.

  “That was crazy!” I say. “You almost caught it! What would you have done with it if you had?”

  “I … nothing. It just … you know, surprised me a little.”

  I nod, but it seems like a strange explanation to me. No one surprised by a mouse or a snake or something would pounce on it like that, would they? But Kimiko just smiles at me. There’s that strange flickering light in her eyes again. I hold her gaze until she turns and walks away, and watch her as she stops periodically to sniff the air or lean her head over as though she’s hearing something the rest of us can’t.

  At four o’clock, it’s quitting time. We arrive back at the lodge to find Ruth is making oatmeal cookies. She hums and bangs bowls around in the kitchen, refusing any offers of help, so we all chill in the Big Kahuna.

  As I breathe in the scent of cinnamon, I listen to the wind whip against the tarp on the woodpile outside. Flap! Flap! Flap! The ocean appears to have disappeared; everything is hidden in a grey shroud of mist, rain and fog. I get up twice to try and see through it, hoping so much to see a pair of big black wings, or hear a familiar raven’s call.

  “Jack will be fine, Hannah,” Ruth says, reading my mind as she comes into the room. I guess she wasn’t kidding when she said she was psychic.

  “But it’s so windy,” I say. “What if we get a really big storm? Jack is just a bird, you know?”

  “He’s more than just a bird,” Peter says. “He’s a raven. And if a storm blows in, he’ll hunker down safe somewhere. Don’t worry.”

  I force a smile. I want to believe him.

  “Could someone please listen for the stove timer?” Ruth asks. “I have to pop upstairs for a minute.”

  Norman trots into the room but stops dead in his tracks when he sees Kimiko curled up in the floral armchair. Their eyes lock, and Kimiko jumps up and scuttles out of the room with her back against the wall. A moment later, I hear the quiet “click” of a door closing.

  While I wait for the oven timer to go off, I rub the condensation off the back door window and take a good long look for Jack. I hope Peter is right, that Jack has the sense to find some ramshackle tool shed or something to spend the night in.

  And then, above the wind, I hear a yelp—a noise that is quickly swallowed up by an ear-splitting clap of thunder. A sudden torrent of rain beats against the side of the lodge. It sounds like a million tiny hammers. I try to push the back door open a crack, but the wind is too strong and I let it slam shut again.

  Another cry! Norman stands by the refrigerator, eyes fixed on the window, his tail held out straight behind him. He lowers his head, his ears twitching at the sound of my voice, but he doesn’t look at me; his eyes stay fixed on the door.

  I look out the window again and that’s when I see it—a tawny flash in the trees—something that leaps to a stump and then jumps off to disappear into the dark cover of the forest. A smallish dog with a massive sweeping tail! No. Tails! Wait. Get a grip, Hannah! I must be seeing things in this storm—fog and mist and lashing rain and too much grey, complicated by the intoxicating smell of cinnamon. Or maybe I’m experiencing a migraine hangover. Is there such a thing? But it doesn’t matter. I know what I saw. I saw more than one tail! It didn’t look like a dog, and it didn’t look like the young wolf I saw last night either. It looked just like … a fox.

  Only … there are no foxes on Vancouver Island.

  Chapter Ten

  “Hey, look who I found!” Peter calls from the pantry room just off the kitchen. It’s a big, airy space that Ruth use
s to store things like carrots, potatoes and canned preserves.

  Sabrina looks up from the couch, but she isn’t interested enough to investigate. I, on the other hand, push away the plate of oatmeal cookies (almost as good as Nell’s, but not quite) on the kitchen table and race to the pantry. And there, on the floor, tucked in beside a huge burlap sack of flour, is Jack. Warm, dry, and seemingly, content.

  “Wait! How did he get in here?” I scan the room. There are no windows, and the back door is shut tight. I open the heavy door of the oak wardrobe at the end of the pantry, looking for some kind of secret passageway or something, but the only thing inside is a big basket of onions, made even bigger by their reflection in the full-length mirror on the back panel.

  “Did you find Jack?” Ruth calls from upstairs.

  “I did! But how did he get in here?” I still can’t believe it.

  “I told you ravens are smart.” Peter chuckles, pointing to the cat flap on the outside door.

  “No way,” I say.

  “Way.”

  “Jack!” I hiss sternly. “Do you even know how worried I was about you?”

  “What a nag, Hannah?” Sabrina yells from the couch. “You totally sound like a parent.”

  I ignore her, grinning as Jack gives me his best beady-eyed stare along with his double-wing-flap greeting. He even looks a bit irritated, as though I’ve just interrupted what was supposed to be a long afternoon nap.

  There is a sound at the front door, and a minute later Kimiko appears in the hallway, all rosy cheeked with dripping braids and mud-encrusted boots.

  “Good lord!” Ruth says, coming down the stairs. “You went back outside? Whatever for? You’re soaked to the bone!”

  “I wanted to see the beach at night,” Kimiko says cheerily. “Hannah and I were talking about it yesterday.” She wrings out her soaking wet braids on the mat in the hall, and that’s when I notice her ears; they are tiny, slightly pointed at the tops, and lie flat against her head. Even her ears are perfect.

  “What? You shouldn’t wander about in the dark up here,” Jade says, placing the book she’s been reading down on her lap. “For safety reasons, you really need to let someone know if you’re going to go outside at night, okay?”

  Kimiko nods and sits down on the bench to remove her boots.

  “Let us know next time, Kimiko,” Ruth says. “We don’t want you coming to any harm.”

  Kimiko’s face softens. “You don’t?”

  “Well, of course not! Honestly, dear. You’re the oddest young woman!”

  Norman barks from the other room, and Kimiko’s pointed ears twitch nervously behind her hair.

  I can’t stop thinking about the missing glass ball. I’ve checked the scorch mark on my pillow a million times, just to ensure I didn’t imagine it. I didn’t. There is no doubt in my mind that the necklace travelled across the Pacific Ocean from Japan. And now I can’t even get it back to its rightful owner. Sabrina may have slippery fingers, but I can’t help thinking that it’s no coincidence Kimiko showed up right after that glass ball did. And as soon as she arrived, the ball disappeared.

  I’m still thinking about it the next day during our break on the beach. We’re drinking hot chai tea that Jade has poured from two big thermoses, and talking about the discovery of a Harley Davidson motorcycle that washed up on the beaches of Haida Gwaii a few years ago. I remember the story, but I’m only listening with one ear.

  Kimiko isn’t listening at all. She’s in her own world, looking toward the forest with her head cocked to one side as though she’s listening for something. Despite the fact that the sun isn’t out, her skin shimmers as though illuminated by some secret light source. It’s almost like she glows. I can’t really explain it, except to say that I’ve never seen anyone with skin like hers.

  She shifts a little on the log and touches her bare throat with her hand. Our eyes meet for a second, and she quickly looks away. Man, she’s jumpy!

  “Come on, crew,” Peter says finally, brandishing his mug. “Let’s get back at it. Who knows what we might find out there, maybe a glass-fishing float. Those are like gold when you find them!”

  “How boring,” Sabrina says, bending over to rub wet sand off the hem of her jeans. “That’s the last thing I would ever want to find, but Louis Vuitton, or Abercrombie & Fitch? I’d love to see the water wash them up on shore!”

  “Who are they?” Kimiko asks innocently. “Do they live here on the coast?”

  Sabrina looks at Kimiko as though she has just grown a second head. “You’re kidding, right?”

  I come to her defence. “Maybe where Kimiko is from, they don’t have those brand names.”

  “Don’t be so naive, Hannah,” Sabrina says, sounding tired. “They’re international names. Everyone knows that.”

  Kimiko opens her mouth to speak, but when Norman appears on the beach and makes a beeline for her, she jumps up on a huge long in a single bound.

  “Impressive,” Jade says.

  “Really, you don’t have to worry about Norm, Kimiko,” Peter says, laughing. “He doesn’t have a mean bone in his body.”

  But Kimiko doesn’t come down, and when Norman tries to jump up beside her, she hops down on the other side and scurries toward the stairs that lead up to the Artful Elephant.

  “I’ll be back in a minute,” she calls out over her shoulder. “I need to use the bathroom.”

  After twenty minutes, she still hasn’t returned. How long does it take a person to pee, anyway? Sabrina and I leave Jade and Peter to finish the last of the tea and discuss—judging by the looks on their faces—Kimiko’s sketchy work ethic.

  Sabrina, who appears to be allergic to physical labour of any kind, stomps off to fire rocks into the water. I wander the beach for a bit, and fill two more bags with mostly plastic bottle fragments and random lids. Then I tie them off and lug them up to our designated spot near the treeline. Norman, my garbage buddy, stops suddenly to sniff the air, his body taut and still. When a twig snaps in the bush, he takes off, knocking me over and sending clouds of sand flying in all directions. A moment later, there is an ear-splitting CRACK, and Norman goes berserk!

  “HANNAH!” Peter yells from somewhere back on the beach. “That was a lightning strike! Get over here!”

  A thick spiral of smoke appears above the trees, but instead of turning around, I run up to the bushes, push them aside and see a big scorched patch on the trunk of a tall fir, clearly the source of the smoke.

  Out of the corner of my eye, something moves. Something quick and tawny! A flash of fur, and … tails! Definitely more than one … again! I am not imagining things!

  And then, there she is—a fox—right in front of me! She freezes on the ground, the missing glass ball balanced perfectly on the end of one of her many white-tipped tails! I can even see part of the red spiral design on it. That’s how close I am!

  Oblivious to the thick smoke that curls around her body, the fox stares at me with fixed, amber-flecked eyes; eyes that are oddly familiar, but she doesn’t move a muscle. I stare back, but break my gaze when I notice the red-hot, sparking tip of her largest tail. It arcs protectively over the one carrying the glass ball. This is hard to comprehend. This … is unbelievable.

  “HANNAH!!” Peter yells again, and I jump.

  The fox springs to her feet, and in a flash of russet fur, is gone. All that remains are some stray sparks that sputter and die in her smoky wake. Lightning? I think not!

  With a thumping heart, and shaky legs, I jog over to where everyone else is gathered at the steps to the lodge. There is absolutely no mistaking what I saw: a fox! She was right there. She was right in front of me! I could see her black whiskers. I could see the rosy tinge inside her pointed ears, and I saw all those tails. Plural! That fox is no ordinary fox. And there’s nothing ordinary about that glass ball I found, either.

  “Whoa, Han?” Jade says. “You’re white as a ghost.”

  “You okay, hon?” Ruth puts an arm around me and g
ives my shoulder a little squeeze. “That lightning strike was close!”

  Jack perches on the deck railing, beating his wings furiously. He eyes look ready to pop out of his skull, and he is clearly agitated. He’s no dummy. He must have seen everything.

  “You look awful, Hannah,” Sabrina says. “Maybe you just aren’t the hard-core outdoor girl you thought you were.” She looks at Peter for some kind of affirmation, but he’s watching Kimiko, who has just stepped out from the bush. Her pants are covered in sand and muck, and she has a dark sooty smudge on her cheek. When she sees us all staring at her, she quickly composes herself and walks over to us with tiny, precise steps, one hand clutching something behind her back.

  “What were you doing?” Peter asks her quizzically. “I thought you went into the lodge?”

  She smiles warmly. Her topaz eyes, full of light amber specks, clearly dazzle him, along with everyone else. And that’s the exact moment when my blood runs cold. Those eyes … and the fox’s eyes … they’re identical.

  She laughs. “Oh. I’m so bad to disappear the way I do. I’m so sorry. I was on my way back but I found … I found this outside the front door. She unfolds her left hand and a lifeless grey mouse lies in its centre, a tiny drop of blood oozing from its neck. Kimiko looks up at Ruth, who has walked over from the woodpile at the side of the house. “Your cat is a great little mouser, isn’t she?” she chirps.

  “Ew! That is disgusting!” Sabrina yells, but Ruth, a huge cat lover, is clearly impressed. “Oh! Pearl is lethal to vermin. Thank you so much for keeping it out of the house, Kimiko. I hate mice!”

  Kimiko laughs. “But Pearl’s eyes are very close together. That’s the sign of an excellent mouser.”

  “That’s what I always say!” Ruth agrees. “No one ever believes me when I tell them that.”

  Wait. Is this really happening? Kimiko is totally charming the socks of Ruth, who up until now, I’d pegged for the “no flies on her” type. But Ruth is obviously impressed with Kimiko’s cat-savvy chatter, and looks at her as though she’s some kind of rare cat-whisperer or something.