Flee, Fly, Flown Read online

  Rayne drives on and finds a small motel near a lake in the center of town. I’m stiff and sore but glad to be arriving in a new place. The change feels right.

  “I’ll go in and get two rooms. You wait here.” He shuts the car off and pulls the key from the ignition, then changes his mind. “I’ll leave it on so the air conditioning is running,” he says.

  He looks at me, thoroughly checking me out, as if he thinks I might go crazy while he’s gone.

  “We’re not going to bolt. You’re the one who isn’t sure about staying with us. Our minds are made up already,” I say.

  Rayne checks the mirror, runs his fingers through his hair, and goes inside.

  Audrey reaches over and turns on the radio as she saw Rayne do earlier in the day. A news anchor’s voice, serious and low, fills the car: the economic downturn, the dry spell, the latest political scandal, and then—news of two elderly residents missing from a nursing home in Ottawa, concern for their safety, and a directive urging anyone with information to contact the police.

  7

  Audrey’s mouth drops open. “Did you hear that?”

  “Is that us?” I ask.

  “Who else? It has to be.”

  “People will be looking for us then?”

  “We’re on the news.”

  “On the news! We’re on the news,” I say. “I wonder if we’re on TV—you know—with our pictures and everything. Wait. No, that wouldn’t be good. Carol might see it, or Tom, and then they’d try to take us back. Did they mention the car?”

  Rayne comes out of the motel office with two sets of room keys.

  I poke Audrey’s shoulder hard. “Turn it off, quick, and don’t tell Rayne!”

  He doesn’t seem to even notice that we look shaken. “Okay, they asked for a credit card, but I told them you’d go in and do that as soon as you get settled. I said you are my grandma and my great-aunt.”

  He helps us into our room. “I’ll come and get you at six o’clock.”

  “Okay, Dear. See you then,” Audrey says.

  The room is sparsely furnished with Eighties décor, dusty rose and jade green bedspreads and art that looks like splotches of paint. But it isn’t like Tranquil Meadows and that’s enough for me.

  “I can’t believe it! We’re famous—on the news! What should we do?” Audrey asks.

  I don’t know what to say. I never dreamed our vacation would become a news story. I stare at the ugly, flowered carpet and try to think.

  I’m a teacher, I can think fast on my feet. How many times have I had unexpected situations and had to make them work? Lots. “Now let me see. We can’t tell Rayne yet. He might panic. And I think we should use false names, don’t you, in case they release the names of the missing people?”

  “Lucy and Ethel. They were good friends and they always had crazy, wild adventures. Remember I Love Lucy? I loved that show.”

  “Perfect,” I say. “Can I be Lucy?”

  “Sure.”

  “Ethel?”

  “Yes, Lucy?”

  “I think I’m going to just lie down here for a minute and rest my back before we go out for supper.”

  Audrey moves slowly around the room, opening curtains, looking through her bag, gathering all her things around her and every couple of minutes, checking on me. I lie flat on the bed, staring at the ceiling.

  There’s a knock at the door.

  “You ready in there?” It’s Rayne.

  “Come on in,” Audrey calls.

  “I’ve checked around. A couple of restaurants nearby look decent. Do you feel like walking?”

  Audrey taps her cane on the floor. “That’s a great idea. Let’s walk.”

  Rayne reminds me about the credit card. He rings the silver bell on the counter, and a pleasant looking, middle-aged woman appears.

  “Hello again,” she says to Rayne. “You must be his grandmother and aunt. Pleased to meet you.”

  “Our pleasure,” I say. “My grandson mentioned you wanted a credit card. Would it be all right if we simply paid cash?”

  “Of course. I’ll just write down your driver’s license information then.”

  I count out the money. “I didn’t bring my driver’s license with me. Do you really need it?”

  “Security policies require we have identification on file for people renting rooms, that’s all.”

  Rayne pulls out his wallet and hands the lady his license. She writes down the details. “Thank you. Enjoy your visit.”

  Rayne leads the way down the street and around the corner. “How does this look?” he asks, pointing to a small diner, decorated with a ship’s bell and wheel and nets hung over hefty ropes. From the front, looking farther along the street, we can see the lake with its docks and a few small boats moored alongside.

  “This is good,” I say.

  Audrey grabs my arm and steps behind me, almost knocking me to the ground. “Whoa! What’s that?” she yells.

  A dog bounds up to Rayne and winds itself around his legs. It is a mid-sized, sandy-colored pup with long, shaggy hair.

  Rayne bends over to pet her. “Hello, Girl.” The dog leans in toward his leg and nuzzles close.

  Audrey peeks out from behind me. “Jeez. I saw a ball of hair heading our way, and it scared the daylights out of me!

  I thought it was a wolf!”

  The dog licks my hand, tail thumping a steady rhythm on the sidewalk. “You’re adorable,” I say.

  “Be careful. It might bite you,” Audrey says.

  “Look at that face. She’s not mean. Don’t you like dogs?”

  Audrey’s grip loosens. “Yeah, it’s just that the dogs at the farm were more like guard dogs and herding dogs. They stayed outdoors, and we didn’t really pay much attention to them. They kept their distance mostly.”

  As we enter the diner, the dog whimpers briefly, turns full circle and curls up on the ground beside the door.

  After a delicious meal, Rayne has space for a piece of carrot cake before declaring he’s had enough. “I’m gonna take a walk around town.”

  “Oh, good, we’ll go too,” I say.

  “I’ll walk you back to the motel. I’ve got some places

  I need to go on my own,” he says.

  The dog is now bouncing around our feet. She follows us as we stroll back to the motel, easing into a well-behaved pace as if she knows that Audrey isn’t steady on her feet and needs to be careful.

  Audrey and I sit on a bench in the front garden, unable to go any farther. The dog curls up at Rayne’s feet.

  “Looks like you have a new friend,” Audrey says.

  He scratches the dog’s ears. “I wonder where she belongs. I had a dog that looked almost like this when I was younger.”

  “Do you still have him?” I ask.

  “He got hit by a car when I was thirteen. I still remember watching it happen—hanging out, shooting baskets in the driveway. Shadow—that was his name—was watching. A motorcycle rode by. He hated the noise. He started onto the road to chase the bike, but I whistled to call him back and just as he stopped and turned, a car came around the corner and hit him.”

  As he’s telling the story, he pets this new dog, looks her in the eyes.

  “That must have been horrible.”

  “Yeah. Dad tried to convince me to get another one, but I couldn’t do it. It didn’t seem right to just replace him like a broken shoelace.”

  He suddenly walks away. “I gotta go. I’ll probably see you in the morning.” The dog stands up and watches him, her tail tucked close.

  “Come on then,” he says, patting the side of his leg, and they stride off, disappear around the end of the garden hedge.

  “I never really liked dogs,” Audrey says. “I had a cat. My dad hated ca
ts, so I had to keep her hidden in my room or else make sure she was outside when he was home. He would get so mad if he caught her in the house. He always said if we started keeping cats in the house, then the pigs and sheep would have to come inside too.”

  “Didn’t you know your dad hated cats when you married him?” I ask.

  “When I married who? My dad?”

  “Yes. You shouldn’t have married him if you didn’t like the same things he liked. Now take Albert and me. We’re very compatible.”

  “I didn’t marry my father,” Audrey says.

  “What are you talking about? Your mother married your father and then they had you. How could you have married him?” Sometimes I can’t follow Audrey’s thinking. She often gets confused. “It doesn’t matter. What were we talking about?”

  “I used to be kind of afraid of dogs, but this one seems nice. She sure likes Rayne, doesn’t she? I like Rayne too. He’s very sweet.”

  I want to argue this, to guard against this trust that Audrey has for the boy. She adores him, gushes over him. I’m not so sure.

  After trying to stifle too many yawns, we go inside.

  “Do you feel different since we left Tranquil Meadows?” Audrey asks.

  “I’m never bored, and I like not having everything decided for us.”

  I stretch out on the bed. “These marshmallows are comfortable.” I dream that a dog barks and barks in the night.

  Rain taps steadily on the window, and I wake to the sound of a loud knock. The door rings with another, more determined knock, and a voice shouts, “Lillian, Audrey, open up! I’m getting soaked.”

  I toss back the covers and try to call up a sense of belonging in this room. At the door, I peer through the peephole. It’s that boy, what is his name? He’s huddled into the doorframe trying to stay dry. Just as I pull back and reach for the doorknob, he knocks again with such force that I almost fall backward.

  I open the door a crack. “For heaven’s sake, what do you want?”

  “Can I come in?”

  He steps inside, followed by a dripping form that immediately starts to vibrate from head to tail, releasing a smelly rain shower into the room.

  “Jeez Louise!” I turn away to get out of the spray.

  Audrey sleeps through the entire exchange, her hearing aid nestled in the ashtray on the bedside table.

  Rayne reaches for a towel and wipes the dog’s wet coat.

  “Is that yours? I don’t remember you having a dog.”

  He smiles and the dog wags her tail a couple of times, then rests her chin on the floor, eyes glued to Rayne’s face.

  “I wanted to talk to you and Audrey about that. I’m gonna keep her.”

  Audrey opens her eyes. A glazed expression clouds her face. She pulls the covers tightly around her shoulders and lies there, looking at Rayne.

  He picks up her hearing aid from the ashtray and hands it to her.

  “Put that down. That’s mine.” Audrey’s hand shoots out from under the sheets and grabs it from him. The hearing aid slips from her grasp and falls to the floor, spins around, and comes to rest under the bed.

  Rayne looks shocked. He moves away and stands by the window, gazing out at the gray sky.

  I kneel carefully and sweep my arm under the bed. “Don’t be like that,” I say, handing the hearing aid to Audrey,

  “This boy’s our friend. Do you remember him?”

  Audrey looks more closely at him and shakes her head. She closes her eyes and feigns sleep.

  “Maybe I should wait in my room,” Rayne says. He and the dog leave, closing the door without a sound.

  I sit on Audrey’s bed and hold her hand until she’s fully awake. “Mornings aren’t our best time, eh Ethel?”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Did that man have a dog?”

  “I think he does now,” I say.

  “Is he your son?”

  “No.” I say. “He’s the young man who’s driving us around on our cruise. You were the one who convinced me to let him join us.”

  “We’re going on a cruise?”

  “I didn’t say cruise. I said holiday—driving us on our holiday.”

  “And the dog?”

  I laugh. “I guess the dog will be traveling with us too. Our family is growing, Ethel.”

  Audrey is quick to answer. “She’s not sitting with me in the front seat.”

  We drag our bags to the door. Rayne is sitting in the car, his dog beside him in the passenger seat, both looking out the windshield between the back and forth of the wipers.

  Rayne spreads out a blanket he finds in the trunk on one side of the back seat and gestures to the dog to get back there. He wipes down the front seat and steps away so Audrey can get in.

  “I have someone to sit with now,” I say, sliding in beside her. “Does she have a name?”

  “I’ve been calling her Shadow—out of habit, I guess,” Rayne says.

  “I think Shadow’s a great name since she follows you around like one.”

  He nods and turns to Audrey. “She’s really well behaved.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I like dogs now,” she says. “Can we get some breakfast?”

  We stop at a store to buy dog food, a large jug of water, a couple of plastic bowls, and a collar and leash, then park under a big tamarack outside a homey little café on the edge of town.

  “Where are you taking us?” Audrey asks. She limps to the door and turns around to see Shadow looking out through the windshield. “There’s someone trying to steal the car,” she hollers, pointing and waving her cane in the air.

  “It’s just the dog.” I try to calm her. “It’s Shadow.”

  “He’s taking the car,” she insists.

  “No she’s not. She’s just waiting in there for us while we have our breakfast.”

  Audrey turns to Rayne. “You didn’t leave the keys in there, did you?”

  “No.” He takes them from his pocket and shows her. He looks unnerved.

  I lace my arm through his and walk to the door. “She’ll be fine. Just act normal.”

  Audrey follows us to a table by the window. A waitress pours three cups of coffee.

  “I don’t want coffee. I want tea,” Audrey says.

  “Oh, I’m sorry, Ma’am. I’ll get you a pot of tea.” The girl takes the cup away and returns, smiling brightly. “Have you decided what you would like to eat? Our special is very good.”

  Audrey speaks up. “I would hope your special would be good. It should be special, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I suppose it should.” She glances at Rayne with a look that begs for a friendly response.

  “Sorry. Yes, I’d like the special please.” He flashes a warm smile.

  “Me too,” I add.

  “I’ll take the special too,” Audrey says. “And where’s

  my coffee?”

  The waitress stammers. “I…I’m sorry. I thought you said you didn’t want coffee. I’m making tea for you.”

  Audrey shoos her away with a wave of her hand. “Fine, fine. Just bring me something hot.”

  When the waitress is out of hearing range, I lean in toward Audrey. “Dear, are you not feeling well this morning?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, you’re acting a little unreasonable—so unlike you.”

  “I guess I’m feeling distance…dissolved…distorted. Ohhh! What is the word?”

  “Disoriented?” Rayne offers.

  “Yes. My head feels cloudy and I feel sad and kind of angry.”

  The waitress returns with a pot of tea and sets it down, then darts away before Audrey changes her mind again.

  “I think you’ve scared that poor girl silly,” I say. “On the upside,
we should get excellent service.”

  The waitress returns right away with three plates brimming with food. Just as quickly, she leaves and reappears with ketchup and a fresh pot of coffee for refills.

  Audrey catches her eye. “Listen, Dear. I’m sorry for being rude. I know it isn’t a good excuse, but I’m having a bad day.”

  The waitress fixes her gaze on Audrey’s face, then on mine. She pours the coffee slowly, deliberately, as if trying to give herself enough time to figure out how to phrase her words just right. Then—“Are you from Ottawa?” she asks.

  No one says a word. The waitress focuses on me. “Are you those two ladies that escaped from the nursing home in Ottawa a few days ago?”

  Rayne’s eyes grow wide.

  I’m the first to speak. “Of course not. I know the ones you mean. I heard it on the radio. Terrible. I hope they’re okay. Did you hear their names?”

  The waitress looks unconvinced. “I did, but I don’t remember what they were—typical old-lady names.”

  I hold Rayne’s gaze as I speak, my eyes pleading for him to stay quiet. “I’m Lucy and this is my friend, Ethel. And this is Rayne,” I add.

  He sits silently, allowing the facts to sink in.

  The waitress laughs. “Lucy and Ethel? Like on that old TV show?” She turns to Rayne. “Is she telling the truth?”

  He forces a weak smile and nods. “Lucy and Ethel. That’s them. Crazy, eh? You sure you don’t remember the names of the two that ran away from the nursing home?”

  “No, but I know it wasn’t Lucy and Ethel. I would have remembered that. I heard it on the news last night. Two older ladies with Alzheimer’s have gone missing from a nursing home in Ottawa and their families and friends are really worried. The police are asking people to be on the lookout for them in Ottawa.”

  Sweat trickles down Rayne’s forehead. He wipes it with his napkin and excuses himself to use the washroom.

  The waitress stares at us. Audrey picks up her fork and digs into her eggs and sausage. “I hope they find those poor women,” she says, between bites. “It’ll be a real shame if anything happens to them.”

  “Yeah. Is that guy okay? He didn’t look very good,” the waitress says.