Just Let Me Die Here (A Serialized Novel) 6

An hour into the flight, Millie is curled up in my lap, softly snoring, and I am quietly whispering the French phrases that are playing through my headphones.

“What are you doing?” Tucker asks, pulling his headphones from his ears. The image of Bruce Willis looking down at the terrified face of a young boy is paused on his tablet.

“Just brushing up on my French a little. You know, they speak it in Canada.” Je suis fatigue, the soft, semi-robotic female voice says in my ear.

“Yes, but we’re not even going to a French province. I’m sure we’ll be just fine with English.”

“I know, I just never got to really use it after studying it in school. I’d like to if I get the chance. Plus, I want to be prepared. Just in case.”

“Prepared for what?”

“I don’t know, what if we’re out in the middle of nowhere and the car breaks down and the only person who comes along to help only speaks French.”

“Completely plausible.” I know there is a smirk on his face but I don’t give him the satisfaction of looking. “So, what have you learned so far?”

“I can say hello, order a coffee, and ask where the bathrooms are.”

“Will you be moving on to automobile maintenance soon?”

“I’m sure it’s just in the next lesson.” Tucker chuckles and returns to his movie. Je ne comprends pas, the voice says. “Je ne comprends pas,” I repeat softly. My accent is horrible. Millie’s eyes flutter open, she shifts her body closer to me, and she is asleep again. I could sit like this forever.

The first time Tucker had to go to work after Millie was born, I was terrified. It would be the first time I was left with her on my own and I was sure it was not going to go well. I needed a partner to help take on whatever she threw at us. If it was just me, she would surely win.

“You’ll be fine,” Tucker had said. “She’ll be asleep for most of the day anyway.” As promised, she was asleep in the basinet when he pulled out of the driveway and headed to work. I stood in the doorway of her room, just staring at her. Enough distance that I wouldn’t wake her, but close enough to make sure she didn’t stop breathing. I watched as her tiny belly rose up and down beneath the swaddled blanket. An hour later, she woke and started crying. I picked her up and sat with her in the rocking chair. I fed her, and when she finished feeding, she went back to sleep. And I just sat there, holding her. It was at that precise moment that I realized that is all I ever wanted to do. Just hold her. This wonderful new little creature that had come in and turned my world upside-down was now the only thing I needed. Just to hold her.

But that’s not enough, is it?

You don’t love her enough.

There is a bump of turbulence, and then another. The third jolt wakes Millie and she is not happy about it. As the plane lands, I have a screaming child in my lap. Tucker takes her in his arms and she immediately calms. I quickly look around, but thankfully, none of the other passengers seem to be annoyed by the disturbance.

“See?” Tucker says. “She just needs her Daddy.”

See? It’s not her.

It’s you.

As the plane slowly descends into Canada, Millie bounces away on Tucker’s lap, happy as can be.

We land and I turn my phone back on. There is one new text. It’s from Sasha. ‘Have a great time in the arctic!’

‘Thanks!’ I respond. ‘I’ll bring you back a snowball.’

Inside the rental car area, Tucker sits with Millie as I check us in. We had agreed, begrudgingly on Tucker’s part, that since I was the only one of us who had driven in the snow before, I would be the one driving on this trip.

“Hello,” the woman says with a smile that is perfectly in keeping with the promoted friendliness of the country.

“Hi,” I say. “I have a reservation.”

“Great, let’s get you all checked in. Name?” I give her my information and she begins typing away at the computer. “What brings you to Calgary?”

“Actually, we’re not staying. Heading out too Banff to do some skiing.”

“Fantastic. Just you?”

“Um, no. My whole family.” I look over at Millie and Tucker and smile. The woman glances in their direction before looking back at her computer. She finishes typing and hands me my receipt.

“Thank you,” she says. “It will be just one second and I’ll have everything ready for you.” I go and sit with Tucker and Millie. In the corner of the waiting area, a television is playing the local news. The news anchor’s face remains oddly cheery above a digital banner that reads ‘Banff Murders’. I come in near the middle of the segment, but catch up pretty quickly as the picture cuts to an image of downtown Banff. It’s an early morning shot and there is a group of pedestrians crowded near a police blockade outside a hotel. The doors open, and two paramedics roll out a stretcher covered in a white sheet.

“And with three seemingly unrelated murders in the past two days, police remain on the hunt for a suspect,” the anchor is saying.

Tucker is looking at something on his phone while Millie is gnawing on a folded-up brochure she must have grabbed off the table.

“Do you see this?” I ask.

“Don’t worry. It’s not going to hurt her,” Tucker says. “She gnaws on that kind of stuff all the time.”

“No, not that. This,” I say, pointing to the television. There is now another image on the screen. Footage from one of the other crime scenes.

“What about it?” he says, his eyes barely lifting from his phone.

“Does it not concern you that there have been three murders in past two days in the very place we are going?”

“I’m sure we’ll be fine. Besides, we’re not staying in Banff. Just passing through. No one gets murdered just passing through a place.” I’m pretty sure this is not true, but I decide now is not the time to start an argument. Just August being paranoid again, Tucker would surely think. And the woman behind the desk is waving us over. I will try and forget about the murderer on the loose. We’re in Canada. Land of maple leaves and happiness. And skiing. Lots of skiing. There is no room for worries of murder on this vacation. No room for worries of any kind.

That’s right.

It’s only your happiness that matters.

Forget about her safety.

“Great Mrs. Logan,” the woman says as I reach the rental desk. “We’ve upgraded you to an SUV, no extra cost. A nice size for you and your family and it’s great on these winter roads. It’s waiting for you just outside. If you go two rows down and then turn right, your car is in spot 331.”

“Thank you,” I say, collecting the paperwork and giving the woman a smile. Tucker nods.

The cold is really settling in outside. The promise of snow hangs in the air. And there, in spot 331 is our SUV. Our bright yellow SUV. And it may be great on winter roads, and it may appear to be a nice size on the outside, but what is not a nice size is the trunk space. Behind the back seat, we are able to fit one suitcase and Tucker’s carry-on. That’s it. The rest of our luggage, Tucker’s large suitcase, my bag, and Millie’s things, are stored on the backseat, surrounding Millie in her carseat strapped into the center of the row. The diaper bag is stuffed below Tucker’s feet in front of the passenger seat.

“Alright, Millie,” Tucker says, turning around in his seat to smile at her. “Let’s go see Canada!” Millie, clearly overcome with excitement, promptly falls asleep.

The sun is beginning to head toward the horizon and I can see clouds pouring over the mountains.

“Looks like a storm,” I say, glancing back and forth between the clouds and the direction we’re going. “Think we can beat it?”

“Should be fine,” Tucker says.

It’s a long drive to Canmore and the initial view out my window is bleak. Gray with a hint of mountains in the distance. I want to get closer to them, but it seems like no matter how long we drive, they stay in a fixed remoteness. I press down on the gas a little harder. I just want to get to the mountains.

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