What Happened to Rose
What Happened To Rose
By Helga Zeiner
Published by POWWOW Books, Canada
Cover design by Vanessa Ooms
Cover photography by Anja Vetterle
All rights reserved©2016 Helga Zeiner
No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without permission by the author
ISBN: 9780995325418
Contents
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25
26
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
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41
Helga Zeiner Novels
1
Carola could feel the small plane shudder in the turbulence. Strong winds blowing over the Coastal Mountains had delayed her departure from Vancouver by over four hours, and that after a ten-hour flight from Germany.
She was beat. Jet-lagged. Worn out.
Grateful for the window seat, she leaned away from the bulky guy sitting next to her and looked down at the snowy landscape. Spruce trees clinging to steep rocky terrain were nothing but tiny brown dots below the barren, slate-colored peaks brushed free by unforgiving November storms.
Endless lonely scenery, untouched by humans.
What on earth had she done?
The plane flew into clouds, blocking her view. She continued to stare into the dark billows racing by until her eyes burnt.
When the pilot announced their descent into Kamloops airspace, Carola came to from a deep dreamless state, amazed to feel a wet spot on her chin, her neck stiff. So much for never finding sleep again.
Like a zombie she followed her fellow passengers down the gangway, onto the tarmac, stood waiting for her luggage, and only kicked her gray cells into gear when it was her turn at the rental car counter.
“The cheapest one you got,” she said to the young clerk.
“Certainly, madam,” he said, his voice even sweeter than his smile. “Are you staying in Kamloops?”
Madam? Seriously? Nobody in Germany called a thirty-plus woman madam.
“So, where are you going?”
“Going north.”
He stopped filling out the rental agreement. “Then I’d recommend a four-wheel drive.” When he saw her face drop, he quickly added, “They forecast a snow storm tonight. You wouldn’t want to be caught in the dark by the roadside, or worse, in a ditch.” His eyes were pleading with her. “People have died that way. I’ll make you a special deal. We got a few decent jeeps in the yard. It ain’t season yet.”
She forced a grin. “I’ll take it.”
He completed the forms and pulled out a list from under his desk. “Can I recommend a motel? Clean and comfortable, and very reasonable.”
He jotted name and directions on a piece of paper and handed it to her with her car keys.
“Have a pleasant trip, madam.”
She moved from the counter, trudged through the by now nearly deserted airport lounge. The wheels of her suitcase locked every few steps and her hand luggage kept slipping off her shoulder. Fighting both, she made it to the entrance and walked through the automatic doors into the open. The cold went right into her bones. A first real feel of Canada. Wet, windy. Same as back home, but more biting. Darker, too. Barely after four and the glow of the city lights in the distance already blackened the sky.
She bunched the paper with the motel directions into a ball and threw it in the bin next to her. Only a two hour drive to her friend’s home in the Cariboo, she’d take a chance.
She walked over to the rental car lot, found her number, got in, adjusted her seat and started to cry. It happened without any warning. Hot tears and an urgent desire to bawl at life released whatever force had held her together in the past months.
Unfair. Unfair. Unfair. Why me? Why now? What have I done to deserve this?
Her cheeks burnt with frustration and anger. It took several minutes before she could feel the frigid temperature creep into her body. Her icy hands began to hurt, she began to shiver. Freezing to death wasn’t all that crash hot, was it now? She gagged from the sudden thought, giggled at the silly world play. All misery dissipated when she heard herself laugh.
See if I care. All I want is warmth. Heat. A bed. Maybe a stiff drink to relax my muscles.
She got out of the car again, went back to the bin, praying that nobody had thrown a soggy burger wrapping in since, found the paper ball at first fishing and straightened it out to read the directions: Drive down Airport Road, turn right, drive straight to next intersection, then left until you see the motel sign. Ten minutes max. Should be easy enough. The lure of a warm bed.
When Carola started the car the first thick snowflakes floated to the ground, gentle like feathers. She had to turn the wipers on to be able to see the road. Damn fate, for once, show some kindness. If the motel is a dump, I will drive tonight.
A sliver of light sneaked though the gap in the darkening curtains and hit her face. She woke slowly, trying to figure out where she was. It came back in fragments. Impressions, collected in a bag, shaken and thrown back into her memory, all mixed up and meaningless until sorted. Frankfurt airport. Nobody there to say farewell. Kamloops airport. The young man. The motel. Clean and comfortable. Peter. Her keys don’t fit. Locked out. Lonely landscape. Lonely. Maria.
Maria.
Carola sat up and looked around. The room was plain, smelled of chemicals, like most cheap hotels do. She kicked the overstuffed duvet off, got out of bed, a little surprised that she was naked—couldn’t remember getting undressed, but flashes of checking in, paying eighty dollars in cash came back while she wondered if she left her suitcase in the car and where she had parked it—went to the window and opened the curtains.
Daylight sparkled with icy diamonds. Blue skies above, so intense, she had to squint.
Her mouth felt dry and tasted metallic. A glance at the bedside clock showed her that she had slept a solid sixteen hours. Now, a long hot shower, then coffee, lots of it, and food.
She showered, slipped into the clothes she had worn on her trip, and went outside to get fresh ones—padded trousers, woolen socks, a knitted sweater—from her suitcase. Mercifully, her rental car was parked right in front of her motel room door. She also grabbed the fit-for-the-arctic parka she had bought in the week before her departure then went back in to call Maria.
“Where the hell have you been,” Maria said as soon as the connection from the motel telephone was made. “I was worried. Why didn’t you call me last night?”
“I was dead beat.”
“A phone call takes a few seconds.”
“I’m sorry.” Carola’s improving mood took a dive again. Always the one to apologize.
“Never mind,” Maria said. “Where are you?”
“Kamloops.”
“Don’t be upset now. I was only worried about you. We had a huge storm blow through last night.”
“Okay.”
“But it cleared again. Just drive carefully. Call me when you reach Little Fort. If you can’t make it up the mountain Gert will come and pick you up.”
 
; “I don’t have a cell.” Carola hated how sulky her voice sounded. “Don’t worry about me. I got a four-wheel drive. I’ll have breakfast at Denny’s next door before I take off.”
“Good. Then we’ll expect you early afternoon.”
“Yep.”
“And, Carola,” Maria said, “just to warn you. Peter called already.”
Carola smiled. Now, this was something she could be cranky over. “Hope you told him to go fuck himself.”
The drive was uneventful. By the time she reached the turn off at Little Fort, the road crew had plowed Highway 24 down to paved surface and had salted it. She made good time until she reached the McDonald peak where the Cariboo plateau with its gentle hills under a wide sky presented itself like a festive table. Fir and spruce trees covered with snow glittered in the luster of a high-altitude sun.
“Magnificent,” she thought, and when this wasn’t enough, she said it aloud. “Christ almighty. This is magnificent.”
A logging truck came toward her, passed her at high speed, spraying snow dust at her windshield. Another one followed soon after, and then a few more passenger vehicles. She cruised along and enjoyed the vista.
An hour later she turned into Maria’s driveway. The wooden gate had the name of the property ‘Little Loon Ranch’ carved in its beam, and a sign on one post asked visitors to please close the gate behind them.
She drove up to the main house. Maria must have heard the car. She stood on the porch, covered in a wrap-around she held together with crossed arms. When Carola stepped on the brakes, Maria jumped down the three front steps and ran around to the driver side.
“Finally,” she said, breathless, when the door opened. “Finally. Finally. Finally. To see you again, after all those years. Let me look at you. You haven’t change a bit. Not one bit.”
“If you ignore the ten pounds I put on since,” Carola said.
“Suits you just fine. You’ve always been skinny bones. Remember how envious I was of you being able to eat anything you like?”
Carola didn’t, but Maria’s non-stop chatter, rarely expecting a reply, came back to her memory in a flash.
“Don’t even think about going on a diet,” Maria carried on while helping her school friend get the luggage out of the car and settling in the living room. “It’ll be Christmas soon and I’ve started baking. Sit down. Here, take the comfy chair. Gert won’t be back till evening, then he’ll kick you out. It’s his favorite. Let’s make tea and try my latest, a Dresdner Stollen. Heavenly. I hope. You need to tell me the truth.”
Carola laughed. “I bet it’s sinful. But of course I’ll try. My figure is beyond repair, and anyway…”
“Oh nonsense,” Maria said. “You’re still a knock-out. Trust me, the country boys here will be all over you in no time at all.”
“That’s not what I came here for.”
Maria had her back to her while preparing tea, but kept on talking of how good life was in the country. How much Carola would love it here. How fun the coming festive season would be.
Carola’s mind drifted away, to times when all this was unimaginable. When the idea of coming to live with Maria and Gert, even if only for a few weeks, would have made her laugh. And cringe. Damn it. Imposing on a friend with a big heart. And a big mouth. How long would she stand the chit-chat before she lost her cool and snapped at Maria? Undeserved cruelty. She was known to do that, hit people on the head with hurtful truth, a touch too direct for most.
“Right?” Maria said.
Carola caught herself. “Right.”
Maria poured milk into Carola’s tea. “See, I remember. And two sugar?”
“Right again,” Carola said.
Maria settled into the easy chair opposite her, sipped on her cup, then cut a slice of Stollen for each of them, put them on plates and handed one to Carola.
“Now. Tell me everything,” she said. “I don’t think Peter’s version on the phone was all that accurate.”
Carola’s heart skipped a few beats, only to play catch up with hammer strokes. Peter. By now, the name alone could do this to her.
“What did he say?”
“Forget it. I want to hear what really happened. You don’t think for one minute I even paid attention to his ramblings.”
“Maria, I just got here.”
“You’re right. How inconsiderate of me. Let’s talk about something pleasant.”
A sudden urge nearly choked Carola. Pleasant? Nothing pleasant in my life. Didn’t Maria see that?
She swallowed hard. “I’m tired.”
“Of course. Of course. The dreaded jet-lag. Finish your tea, then I’ll show you to your room. An afternoon nap will do you wonders.”
The room was charming. Perfect for a teenager. Bedspread with roses, lampshades with fringes, lilac wallpaper sprinkled with daisies. Carola shuddered. Maria’s touch was a little too flowery, fragrant and pastel colored for her liking.
She slept for two hours, woke up startled. The room was dark, illuminated only by a distant farm light shining through the window. She switched on the bedside lamp and saw that it was seven in the evening. The nap had refreshed her, but made her feel disoriented. Her inner clock fought with the 4:00 am time currently in Germany.
God, she wouldn’t sleep all night now. She was in the house of a good friend, but as a guest, forced to be quiet when her hosts went to bed until the house woke again. At home she’d potter around when she couldn’t sleep, doing stuff.
You don’t have a home anymore.
A gentle knock at her door. Maria must have seen the light.
“Are you up?”
She forced her tears back.
“Carola?”
Forced her voice into cheerfulness. “Yes?”
“Dinner’s ready. You must be hungry.”
Lord no. But Maria meant well.
2
Two weeks later they had settled into a comfortable routine, dangerous to Carola’s waistline. Maria baked and cooked all day long. When Carola wasn’t asleep she sat in the kitchen and watched Maria’s laborious pre-Christmas activities, mindlessly sampling the goodies coming out of the oven, doing her best to avoid any meaningful conversation.
What else could she do? They had driven the rental car back the day after her arrival to avoid the high charges, and now she was stuck in a house 30 km away from the next small town.
Gert left early every morning to attend to his many jobs and didn’t get back until dinner time, so it was just the two of them, small-talking while filling up tin boxes with homemade cookies.
About two weeks before Christmas, Carola couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Maria,” she said, “please don’t think I’m ungrateful. Your hospitality means the world to me, but if I stay put much longer I’m going to be comatose. I can’t sit here and do nothing. I can’t afford it.”
“But you’re our guest,” Maria said with an alarmed voice. “You don’t have to pay anything. Didn’t I make that clear?”
“Every day that goes by feels wasted.”
Maria stopped pounding the dough on the kitchen counter. She formed a ball, wrapped it in cellophane and put it in the fridge. “I was wondering when you come out with it,” she said. She washed her hands, took off her apron and sat down at the breakfast bar. “For days you’ve been behaving like a tiger in a cage.”
Carola was taken aback. “You noticed?”
Maria only raised her eyebrows.
“Right. Forgive me. I thought by not thinking about the past the future wouldn’t matter. But it does. I need to think ahead. What will happen with me? What will I do with my life?”
“You’re scared.”
“Terrified.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“Aren’t we already?”
“You can’t plan your future until you’ve solved your past.”
“The past is over and done with.”
Maria got up, walked to the dining dresser and took out an envel
ope. “No, it’s not. You didn’t want to know about my phone conservation with Peter, and I didn’t think it was all that important, but now this arrived, and it looks pretty official.”
She put the envelope on the table. Carola recognized the sender’s address. Their lawyer. No, Peter’s lawyer. He’d be acting for him by now.
She shrugged.
“Open it.”
“Later.” She folded the thin envelope in half and slipped it into the back pocket of her jeans. “It’s not important. I’m here now, far away from Peter. I don’t want to have any more to do with him. I need to make a new life for myself.”
Maria threw a disapproving glance at her and waved it off. “Christmas is so close. Can’t you just relax and wait for the New Year before you make plans? Don’t make rush decisions.”
“What’s there to wait for? Peter left me and kicked me out of our company weeks ago.”
“Do you still love him?”
Did she? Her pride was hurt. Badly. The bitter taste of rejected love. “What did Tina Turner sing? What’s love got to do with it?”
Maria chuckled. “I don’t believe you’ve turned into a cold-hearted bitch all of a sudden.”
“Not suddenly. A gradual process that accelerated toward the end. No point in dwelling on it. I need to reverse the process, drag myself out of the downward spiral. Maria, I mean it. If I don’t start to do something, anything, productive soon, I will die.” She picked up another cookie and stuffed it in her mouth. “Most likely death by Christmas cookies.”
“That’s only because you’ve been cooped up in here too long.”
“So have you.”
“I’ve been for walks every day while you were sleeping. Should have woken you, I guess.” Maria got up. “Come on, it’s not too late. Let’s go now. We can figure out something while we enjoy the great Canadian outdoors.”
The snow covered walkways had thawed in the midday winter sun and started to freeze again as the thermometer dropped a few degrees. They had to carefully manoeuver the icy patches to make sure they wouldn’t slip. The cold air bit into their faces.
“I want to find my own place,” Carola said, pulling her hood deeper over her head. “I’d like to stay in this area.”