Eagle River (2 page)

“Your name is Galen, right?” Cam continued, that bright “for the fans” smile accentuating the hungry lines of his jaw. “Galen Otter, or Oller?” Of course Cam knew Galen’s name, but thankfully, Galen didn’t take the bait.

“Odgers.”

“I remember now. You were that weedy sophomore backup quarterback.” Cam chuckled familiarly. “You always brought me towels and water all through my senior year.” He punctuated his comment with a friendly nudge at Galen’s shoulder. But Cam’s eyes were sharp and focused on Galen. “I remember you had a big case of hero worship.”

Unfazed by the clumsy jab, Galen stared straight back at him. “Too bad you didn’t play much last year, Fawst.”

Cam quit smiling. “Things are different in college. Players run faster and hit harder. It takes anyone a while to adjust. You’ll see what it’s like if you get that opportunity. Throwing a football through a hoop is a cute trick but it won’t get you far in a college football game.” Cam paused, regaining his composure. “You decided where you’re gonna go next year? I’m sure that there are a lot of division three schools who would give you a shot.”

Galen didn’t take the bait.

“Well, see ya.” Cam was tired of the games.

“Hi Galen,” Kjersten’s voice was soft but carried through the darkness like a knife.

Galen nodded his head curtly towards the girl, acknowledging her, but didn’t turn to look at her. “Kjersten.”

Cam assessed them, looking back and forth between them. “That’s right, you two know each other.” He tossed an arm possessively over Kjersten’s shoulder and pulled her tightly to him, staring at Galen all the while. “Here’s my good luck, Galen. You need to get yourself one of these,” Cam chuckled at his own coarse joke. Kjersten’s face remained determinedly impassive, her body, stiff.

“Hey Cam,” Sal’s cigar roughened voice cut through the weighted silence. The large bulk of the bartender appeared at Galen’s side. “You gonna be around town for a couple of days?”

“I’d planned to stay through the weekend,” Cam answered.

“Would you mind stoppin’ by the bar during the Brewers and Twins game? You know what big Coyote fans we are. The guys would be thrilled if you would just come in and shoot the shit.”

“Sure, Sal.”

“Thanks, kid.” Sal was pleased. With satisfaction, he twisted the cigar between his teeth. “Galen, you comin’ by, too?”

“I don’t know, Sal. There’s a lot of work I gotta do at the farm. It’s tough to get away.”

No longer the center of attention, Cam turned away. “Come on, babe. Let’s get out of here. I’ve had enough of this small town bullshit,” Ben heard him mutter to Kjersten.

Suddenly, a hot, sweaty hand grasped Ben’s forearm. “Hey Ben, I’ve been looking all over for you. I thought that you’d ditched me.” It was Timmy. “Do you know how late it is already? My mom must be having a stroke. I haven’t called her in over two hours and it’s almost eleven. We’ve got to go soon or I’m gonna be late for curfew.”

“Yeah, let’s go.” Galen broke abruptly away and strode off, his long legs eating up the ground, leaving Ben and Timmy in the dust. They followed and tried to keep up at first and then fell behind. A stalk of corn from last year’s crop, suddenly jammed into the arch of Ben’s foot.

“Shoot.” Ben knelt down, pulled off his decrepit sneaker, and rubbed the abraded skin. He looked up as Galen swung open the door of his beat up, old pickup and hopped in. Ben cringed at the brutal clang of rusted metal on metal when he slammed the ancient door shut.

Timmy waited while Ben adjusted his shoe. “Is he okay? Galen’s not pissed with me, is he? I didn’t mean to act like a dorky little kid. It’s just that my mom worried. Do you think he’s pissed?”

“Don’t worry about it, Timmy. Galen’s not pissed with you or me. He’s just dealing with some stuff.”

As Ben straightened up, Galen started the engine. The ancient Ford was moving their way. It pulled abreast of them. “Come on, Ben. Let’s go,” Galen said impatiently.

Timmy hopped in and Ben followed a moment later. Galen shifted the truck into gear and swung it around. They spun off in a cloud of dust.

Chapter Two

Memories

~ Galen ~

After dropping off Ben and Timmy, Galen couldn’t get home soon enough. He gave the old pick up gas, ignoring how it rattled like it was about to fall apart. It felt too tight, too close in the cab even with the windows rolled all the way down. He felt all twisted up, like he had something alive twisting around inside him.

Kjersten was still so beautiful. Still the same.

He slammed his knuckles into the dashboard. Then, he pounded them home again and again. The already dented blue plastic cracked, opening a knuckle.
Shit
. He pinched his eyes closed against the hurt. Tried to squeeze out the lines of her face.

Suddenly, he hit the big pothole at the end of the lane and Old Blue was air borne. When the pickup crashed back down to earth, it shook in every bolt. Galen’s teeth were jarred.  Then, he hit another pothole, went up and crashed down again and then the much abused vehicle popped out of gear as it slid into the grass on the side of the driveway.

Galen gripped the wheel and exhaled. The old truck didn’t deserve this kind of treatment. He knew the driveway like the back of his hand, knew where every pothole and divot were and how to avoid them.
Get it together.

It hurts so much seeing her with Cam and knowing that it’s my own fault. Still, why did she have to hook up with that asshole?
He leaned forward, resting his head against the steering wheel.
Kjersten
. He couldn’t stop thinking about her. She was part of the best memories of his childhood. Memories, images of days gone past flowed through his mind, like autumn leaves in a river.
Kjersten.

The moonlight shone brightly on the surface of the pond in the darkness. Both thirteen-year-old Ben and twelve-year-old Galen had known that trespassing could get them into big trouble. But, they weren’t swimming alone, and the water in the pond was just deep enough to be safe to jump into. Besides, it was one of those humid summer nights in August when you’re tired of the heat and just couldn’t resist the cool darkness of well-fed pond. So, the boys had stripped down to their briefs and run as fast as they could to the small floating pier. Each one wanted to be the first one in, the first one to shatter the perfect stillness of the indigo water.

“Come on, Galen. You have a head start. That’s not fair,” Ben wailed. Both boys knew it was a load. Galen was just a lot faster. Still, he slowed down for his friend. He knew that he had to let Ben win sometimes or he’d quit trying. Ben shot past him and then off the wooden dock and into the air. Galen saw the surface of the pool erupt under Ben’s cannonball and then he jumped, too, and lost all sight in the shock of the cold water.

The pond had been especially awesome that night. Maybe because it had been the last time before school. Maybe because they’d snuck out for one last dip. They’d heard that the property had finally been sold, and that a family was moving in. But the fact that it was now forbidden added to the allure, and that night lived in his memory as vividly fresh and late summer sweet with the thrill of getting away with something. They’d run, jumped, belly flopped, and swam until their fingers had pruned up and their lips had turned blue. When they got out of the water, the air was bitterly cold on their rail thin bodies.

It had all started when Ben was lining up for one last cannonball. He had stood stock still. “Don’t move, Galen.”

“What?”

“I just heard something. Like something back there,” he’d gestured at the woods as he whispered the words to Galen, who had remained in the water, while he stood up on the pier.

“There’s nothing there. You’re hearing things.” Galen had thought that Ben was being a chicken shit, to be honest. The kid had always been a little weird about going into dark rooms and hearing ghost stories and stuff. But Ben was Galen’s best bud, and you don’t tell your best bud that he is a wimp.

“One more cannonball, come on.”

“I’m serious, Galen.” His pale body was trembling hard now. “You hear that?”

“I don’t hear a thing.”

“I want to leave. Something or someone is out there. I know it.” Ben sounded almost ready to cry.

“Don’t be such a chicken.”

“Please Galen. Let’s go-o.” His voice quivered.

“But there’s nothing over there,” Galen muttered as he doggy paddled his way over to the side of the pier where a ladder hung out over the water.

“Thanks, Galen.” Ben turned and trembling with cold and fear walked towards the tree stump where the boys had stacked their clothes.

The shock of the night air coolness on his wet body started Galen shivering as soon as his shoulders left the water. The pond water felt nearly warm in comparison to the air. His teeth were chattering and the pine needle covered sand felt like shifting icicles under his bare feet. He hugged himself tightly and shivered his way over toward the clothes. Suddenly, he heard the sound of movement, of a body going through the underbrush from somewhere in the woods off to his left.

Both boys stopped, paralyzed. Suddenly, a huge dog burst out. The monster galloped towards them, open mouthed, barking ferociously. There was a bright white flash of the hair on its chest and its eyes were brilliant in the brightness of that summer’s night.

Moving as one, they bolted. Galen jumped into the raspberry bushes that made up the undergrowth of the woods. The long branches smacked and stung on his bare skin. Blindly, he ran through the stinging pine branches. He didn’t look back, but he could hear a big body crashing through the woods behind them, and the bark of that dog. It reverberated around them. Then, his foot hit a rise in the ground, perhaps a gopher hole. He sprawled out flat, the wind knocked out of him. Ben leaped over Galen’s prone body and flew past. As Galen scrambled to get back to his feet, he watched Ben make the turn into onto forest path. Then, Ben was gone.

As for Galen, now the beast was upon him. Once he was on his feet, he backed slowly up, because he knew that you’re never supposed to run from a dog. The monster dog had slowed to a muscle bound, hackles raised strut. Its bull neck was lowered, its body was sort of crouched, ready to leap, and tear out his throat, Galen imagined. A dull, shaky growl issued forth from the deep chest. He continued to back slowly.

“It’s okay. You’re a good dog. A very good dog.”

“Heidi! Heidi, sit!” A girl’s voice suddenly commanded from somewhere over by the pond.

The dog, a boxer, Galen now saw, whined and looked back towards the pond, but held her ground. She didn’t obey the command. Galen began to back pedal even faster. Heidi, the boxer, clearly noticed his movement. For, she growled again and strutted the rest of the way up to him. There, she stood just inches from him, baring her teeth. Galen kept on staring down at the ground, not wanting to aggravate her by looking into her eyes. His mom had always warned him never to look a dog directly in the eye, or any other animal for that matter. “Heidi’s a good girl. A very good girl,” he breathed.

Heidi wasn’t buying it. She continued to growl softly, menacingly.

He decided that moving probably wasn’t the best plan. He was caught, well and truly caught, but he rationalized that getting into trouble was probably better than having Heidi take a hunk out of him.

“Heidi come!” A slight figure burst through the trees. A tall, skinny girl in blue jean shorts and a tank top rushed up and grabbed Heidi by the collar.

“Heidi! You’re a bad dog! A bad dog!”

Heidi moaned and whimpered, with her cropped ears flat against her rounded skull. She pressed her hulking mass up against the girl and her entire body had wiggled with her rounded stump of a tail.

“I’m sorry about Heidi,” the girl blurted out as she continued to hold the dog by her collar. Moonlight glanced off her long blond ponytail and it swished with her movement. She moved closer to Galen, with Heidi loyally wiggling her way between them. “Heidi doesn’t bite. Well, except for mailmen and you’re not a mailman. She loves kids, really.”

“Maybe you should tell her that,” he muttered since Heidi was continuing to eye him with serious interest.

“She’s friendly. It’s just that she worries whenever she sees anyone swimming. It freaks her out. We have to lock her in the house when my brother and I go swimming. She’s friendly, honest.”

As if to prove the girl’s words, the dog made her way over to Galen. She sniffed at him, snorted, and then pressed her muscular side against him, gazing soulfully up. Galen reached down to touch her back gently. Her tail stump wiggled furiously in encouragement. The ugly cute boxer face grinned up at him in blissful encouragement.

He patted the dog with increasing enthusiasm. “Cool dog... Heidi’s a pretty girl. Oh, yes she is.” He went down on his knees. The dog licked his face, the broad abrasive surface of her tongue warming the chilled planes of his wet face.

“Wait here. I’ll go get your clothes,” the girl said.

In short order, she had returned with his T-shirt, shorts and tennis shoes.

“Thanks. Freezing, Galen nearly grabbed them from her.

Politely, she turned her back to him while he changed.

Galen’s clothes were ice cold with the night air against his skin.

“I’m Kjersten.”

“G-Galen,” he shivered out as he thrust his sneakers onto his wet feet. He shoved his socks into his shorts’ pockets.

“You live around here?”

“Yeah. Our farm’s off County Y.”

“How did you get here?”

“Biked. The bikes are over by the road. You’re not from around here. How did you get here?”

“How did you know I’m not from around here?” the girl asked suspiciously.

“I know everyone in Eagle River.”

“We just, I mean, my family just moved here. You guys swim at the pond a lot?”

“Yeah. Everyone did ‘till the place got sold. We used to skate here in the winter, too.”

“Where do you live?”

She stared at him like he was some kind of moron. “Here.”

“You mean here, like at the house?”

She nodded.

“You mean you’re a Solheim?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Shoot. I’m really sorry. I mean I’m not supposed to be here. I mean, we didn’t figure you guys’d be moving in yet... Please don’t tell on me. My mom’ll kill me.” The words tripped and stumbled their way out of his mouth.

Kjersten assessed him. “I won’t tell anyone, don’t worry.”

Galen watched her. You never could trust a girl. They couldn’t keep a secret. That was a known fact, one he’d learned from his sister, Sandra.

“Why won’t you tell?”

“I won’t tell under certain circumstances.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “I’ll make a deal with you. If you two go swimming again, you gotta take me with you.”

He studied the girl. Kjersten Solheim was tall, taller than he was. She didn’t look rich, that was for sure. Her denim shorts and T-shirt were faded with age and use. Her hair, except for the white blond ponytail, was covered with a Baltimore Orioles cap. There wasn’t a frill, bow, or ribbon on her anywhere. She didn’t look like a girly girl. Not that Galen wanted to have a girl around, but maybe he could cut some kind of deal with this one.

“You gotta swim with us and then you won’t tell? No matter what?”

“I swear it.” Kjersten held her hand out solemnly, like a grown up would.

Galen took her hand, wondering all the while how he was gonna explain it to Ben, who still thought girls were weird. “Swear by something important.” His eyes fixed on the boxer. “Swear by Heidi’s life.”

“Okay. I’ll swear by Heidi. Sorry girl.” She reached down and patted the dog.

He took her hand and shook it. From that night on, they had been best friends, the three of them, Ben, Galen and Kjersten. Most of the time, it hadn’t even seemed like she was a girl, she was just one of them. His mother had called them the “Three Musketeers.” They had been inseparable, done everything together.

Galen shook his head, clearing away the memory of that first meeting with Kjersten five years ago.
I just have to forget her and move on.
But his mind was unruly and wouldn’t obey his directives. Other memories drifted through him, like the day he’d taught her to ride horses.

“Riding is easy. Anyone can do it. I’m surprised that you never learned how at any of those fancy summer camps or schools.”

“I just never did.” A fourteen-year-old Kjersten spat the words out of tight, thin, frightened lips.

“How come? Riding’s fun.”

“Horses are... really big.”

Her face was rigid as she sat absolutely frozen on the barrel-esque but somewhat swayed bare back of Jethro, the Odgers’ old Belgian horse, in the farm yard. Kjersten’s toes pointed straight to the ground and her hands were bound up in the thick, coarse mane. Jethro slowly swung his suitcase-sized head topped with fuzzy orange-yellow mane around. He rubbed the masticated, green slime on his mouth on Kjersten’s denim clad lag, gently nuzzled her and then lifted his head high, rolled his eyes back, and raised his lip.

“He’s laughing, isn’t he?” Kjersten whispered.