Mountains of Dawn

Chapter 1

Vermeil, Ontario

Fall 1999

The blast scattered bits and pieces of debris over Tanya Caldwell and her canvas. She stared at the glitter of glass speckled on the red tile shingles of her unfinished painting, on her brush and palette, on her hand. Her face. She touched her cheek. Blood as red as the painted shingles coated her fingertips.

Kathy? she said. Kathy, what was that? Where are you? Her legs shaking, Tanya looked through her broken window and into the driveway.

* * *

In the hospital, they treated Tanya for shock and stitched the deep laceration on her forehead. They couldn’t treat the wound in her mind. The Emergency Room admitted her overnight for observation.

You met this Tanya Caldwell before? Detective Albert Warner of the Vermeil Police Station asked. He turned toward the front of the hospital elevator and pushed the button for the third floor.

Yes. Once, Constable Joe Halliday replied. She had an accident. Actually, she’s had more than one. She reported each of them right after they happened.

What do you know about her?

She seemed quiet, well-mannered. Neat. Dark hair and eyes, medium build. She’s twenty-two, a student at MacKenzie Academy for the Visual Arts. She’s an artist. Halliday hesitated. A bit strange, maybe? Bottles things up, I think. A dreamer. But aren’t all creative people a little off? He shrugged. Warner frowned.

Warner tapped on the open door to Tanya’s room. Excuse me, Ms. Caldwell? he asked.

Tanya’s closed eyelids fluttered. The white bandage on her forehead accented her pallor, splashes of antiseptic marking her cheeks and chin like war paint. Yes? she said, her voice hoarse, rusty.

The detective introduced himself and his partner. We need to ask you a few questions, if you don’t mind. I know it’s going to be painful for you, but it will help us find out how it happened.

No. No, it’s all right. Go right ahead. Tanya leaned back against the pillows and closed her eyes again. All I can tell you is I lent my car to my roommate, Kathy Alcin. The car blew up. She drew in a deep, shuddering breath. Kathy’s dead. That’s all, she said, her voice trailing off in a whisper.

When the ambulance arrived, you were sitting on the driveway with Ms. Alcin’s body in your arms, is that correct?

Yes. Tanya’s chin and lower lip trembled. Yes, correct. Her entire right side…the bomb smashed her. It twisted her, tore her apart… Tanya’s eyes were open now. She sat upright, her arms stretched before her as if she still held her friend’s body. Tears ran over the antiseptic on her cheeks and fell, small blood-red drops, to the sheets. Her entire body shook with the memory.

Ms. Caldwell, would you like me to call a nurse?

Tanya sighed and fell back against the pillows again. No. No, I’ll be fine, she said.

Could you please start at the beginning, and tell us exactly what happened?

I’ll try. She shifted in bed, trying to get comfortable, but her discomfort wasn’t entirely physical. Her mind went back to earlier that morning, when life seemed so much simpler.

She had just dipped a brush into the red oil paint, then leaned against the drawing board to support her arm, and sketched a triple row of shingles on the roof of a mansion. The sunlight glowed on the mansion roof and highlighted the vines along the walls. I was working on a painting, a mansion mentioned in a letter. Kathy came in… Tanya could hear Kathy’s voice in her mind, see her standing there, a tall, thin girl in jeans, a jacket, and a baseball cap. Kathy’s long brown hair, bound into a ponytail, poked through the opening in the back of the cap.

She said, ‘The house and terrace look very realistic, Tanya. Are you going to include the glycine?’ We talked about it, discussed the letter’s comment about the delicate glycine rambling over the mansion’s walls.

She paused, took a deep breath. It was all so normal, you know? Just like any other day. But then, she asked to borrow my car. She said her car wouldn’t start, and she had to pick up her parents at the airport. I hesitated, not sure if I should give it to her. Tanya was silent, looking into the past.

And then? Why wouldn’t you loan her your car, if she needed it? Was there something wrong with your car? Detective Warner asked.

Well, it ran, Tanya said. She pushed a strand of damp hair from her cheek. It looked really bad, but it did run. I was concerned about what her parents would think when they saw it. Kathy laughed, said she’d tell them I’d taken up stunt driving.

How was your car damaged?

It had been bumped from the back and the sides. It was hard to open the doors, especially on the passenger side. It looked a bit like a car out of a cartoon. Tanya gave him a tiny smile. Except the way it happened wasn’t funny.

And what was that, Ms. Caldwell?

I think, now, someone tried to push me off the road. Before today, I wasn’t certain. She watched Detective Warner write in his notebook. Constable Halliday stood near the window, his gaze on the street below. I was bumped from behind and into the mountain side. Steep. Rocky. I forced my car between the mountain on the left and a boulder on the right. She chewed on her thumbnail, her expression intent. I didn’t know if the accidents were accidental or not. But now…

Tanya stared at the detective, her eyes huge like the eyes of a frightened child. Tears spilled from the corners and her lower lip quivered. The explosion was meant for me, Detective. Kathy died because of me. Her body shook, her breath came in soft gasps. Her hands covered her face as if to hide her from the memories.

Detective Warner snapped his notebook closed. Ms. Caldwell, I think you’ve had enough for now. We’ll need a few more questions answered when you’re more up to it. Do you have any family in the area? A friend? I don’t think you should be alone.

Kathy’s parents should be at my place by now, she said, her voice low. Kathy’s parents…how could she cope with their grief, grief so much greater than her own? I’ll see them when I leave here tomorrow, then…yes, I’ll give my friend Judith a call and see if I can stay at her place for a while. She paused. I think you know Judith Abramson; she works at headquarters.

Yes, yes. Of course I know Constable Abramson. It’s a good idea to move in with her for the time being, Detective Warner said. He smiled to Tanya. That’s all for today. Turning to Halliday, he added, Find the rest of her file. I think something’s missing.

Tanya refused the hospital dinner and dozed, slightly drugged from pain medication. She accepted a sleeping pill around 9:00 pm, anxious not to lie awake in a strange place. The drug spun her down and into a dark, deep sleep.

She woke to the sound of her own voice, creaming Go away! Away! The dream drifted too far out of reach for her to grasp and left her with no desire to remember it. She sat upright in the hospital bed for the remainder of the night, eager for the light of morning.

* * *

A cab dropped Tanya off at Vermeil’s public park, a large park for such a small city. Approximately 80 miles outside of Toronto, Vermeil boasted a population of only 150,000 people. Tanya had lived there for three years, all of them with her roommate, Kathy, who became her entire family.

She needed to gather her thoughts, to prepare for the emotional bout with Kathy’s parents. Kind, thoughtful people, Kathy had been their only child. Tanya’s heart ached for them. She had no idea what she could say to ease their pain. She remembered holiday visits to their home, the feeling of being part of a family she had when she was with them. Kathy had been like a sister to her. They had shared everything, from laugher to tears, for almost three years.

Guilt and fear wove through her thoughts as well; the explosion was intended for her. Kathy died for her.

She sat on a bench close to the shore of the Murex River’s small lake and watched the ducks battle for scraps of bread tossed by a family near the banks. Across the water, where the shores were protected by heavy undergrowth, she saw two herons. They stood like living statues, silent, watching the water for the flash of a fish.

In the distance, the cries and laughter of children as they rode the swings and slides of the playground came to her. A baseball game sent the crack of a bat hitting the ball across the water to her. A gentle breeze touched her hair and lifted a strand across her face. She thrust it behind her ear and began to walk.

She passed a gazebo, a delicate bit of architecture reminiscent of Victorian times, and stared across the river at the University campus. In the three years she had been attending the Academy for the Visual Arts, she’d seen every inch of the park. She knew the small indoor zoo as well as her own home, the paths, the trees and changing flowers, the bushes and wildlife living within and alongside of them, the ice and snow of winter. Much of the park had been captured in her paintings.

Everything seemed the same, and yet, different. The world without Kathy’s laughter, her impish jokes, her simple joy in living, would never seem as warm. The solace she expected stayed away.

Kathy’s parents waited for her at her apartment. Tanya left the park and entered her condo.

Kathy’s mother sat on the sofa and stared at the broken windows. Glass still glittered on the carpet, still lay in scattered clumps across the floor. Her husband paced the room, his hands clasped behind his back. Several empty cartons lay on the floor near two suitcases.

Mrs. Alcin, Tanya said. Her voice choked, filled with tears. And Mr. Alcin. I don’t know what to say. Her face twisted and she sobbed out her pain for the first time since Kathy died. Mrs. Alcin gathered Tanya in her arms and cried with her while Mr. Alcin patted her back. Pride made his face turn red with held-back tears for a moment, then he joined the women and cried as well.

Tanya hugged the smaller woman, held her close. I don’t know what I’ll do without her, she said. She was my alter-ego, my critic, the laughter in my life.

My Kathy… Mr. Alcin said, his voice muffled in sobs.

Mrs. Alcin drew back from Tanya and wiped her eyes. We won’t stay, she said. I’ve called back home and made arrangements for the funeral. She gasped back a sob and waited a moment until she could go on. We have to ship Kathy home, you see, and deal with everything. She couldn’t continue.

It’s all wrong, Mr. Alcin said. Parents shouldn’t bury their children. A man should walk his daughter down the aisle, not lay her in her grave. He turned and left the house, slamming the door behind him.

He’ll be all right, Mrs. Alcin said. It’s just too soon. That’s one of the reasons we have to go home as soon as possible. I don’t think he’ll be able to stay here, where it happened, where she’s lived, for too long. She squeezed her eyes shut, and seemed to stop breathing for a moment, then drew a deep breath and continued. We stayed in a motel last night, after we picked up the rental car. She looked across the room to the shattered front windows. I don’t think you should stay here either, dear. Anyone could climb in through those windows. In fact, things looked a bit messed when we arrived, but I’m not sure. It might just be from the explosion. She paused again, her thoughts gone back to her daughter in the midst of the explosion, torn and shattered. She shook her head as if to shake away the image. I thought I should pack a few of Kathy’s things, send them on home, too. Would you help me, Tanya? I don’t think I can do it alone.

Tanya nodded, unable to speak. Together, she and Mrs. Alcin packed several cartons and taped them shut. They carried a few cartons, along with the luggage, to the Alcins’ rental car.

Now, Tanya, are you sure you don’t want to come back home with us? I know you need to recover and…it would be a blessing to have you around. Mrs. Alcin smiled Kathy’s sweet smile at Tanya. Tanya felt as if her heart would shatter.

No, Mrs. Alcin, thank you so much. I would love to go home with you, but I have school, and work to do here. The police still want to talk to me. I can’t hide…although I would love to. Tanya wished she could crawl under the bed and never come out, not until life made more sense, not until cars didn’t explode when you drove them, nor strangers try to force you from the roads. I’ll stay with a friend of mine.

I understand, Mrs. Alcin said. She hugged Tanya tight.

After the Alcins left, Tanya made a call to her friend, Judith, who she knew was out of town, and made arrangements to stay at her place for the next few days.

* * *

Tanya was wandering inside her friend’s apartment when the phone rang. Detective Warner here, Ms. Caldwell, the voice said. I wonder if you would mind coming in and answering a few more questions?

No, I wouldn’t mind, Detective. I’m feeling much better.

Good. I spoke to Judith Abramson her this morning. She asked us to keep an eye on you until she can return home.

That’s reassuring. I’ll be there shortly. Tanya hung up the phone and left Judith’s apartment, glad to be outdoors. She drew in a deep breath, smelling the air and feeling the sun’s warmth on her face.

The Vermeil Police Station, located in an old building downtown, had been remodeled so many times, no one could remember its original appearance. The main hall had been cobbled together by breaking down the walls between several small rooms, which left the floor a mosaic of linoleum, hard wood, and battered tiles.

Ms. Caldwell? Tanya? Do you mind if I call you Tanya? Detective Warner said, offering his hand to Tanya. You look great. Your cuts are healing well.

I don’t mind at all, Detective. And they are healing well. I’m down to one bit of gauze now. She smiled. She followed him down the strange-floored hall into a tiny office. Constable Halliday smiled and nodded at her as she entered.

Not much room in here, but please, take a seat, Warner said, gesturing at a straight-back wooden chair. Tell me about the threats you’ve received.

Threats? No one’s threatened me.

No threats? But the record shows you complained of threats when you were here three weeks ago.

No, I don’t think that’s correct. I complained of an accident, my second. I was pushed off the road twice. That’s what I reported three weeks ago. When I came in prior to that, it was to report my first accident.

Detective Warner frowned. Excuse me, please, Tanya. Halliday, come with me. I want to check the records. As they left the room, Tanya heard Warner say, I knew her files were incomplete. Something is very wrong here.

They returned a few moments later, Halliday looking nonplused.

Sorry, Warner said. Seems to be a minor problem. Now. Tell us about your accidents, Tanya.

The first time, I noticed a car too close to my bumper…

Where? What road? Warner asked.

Highway 18a, Tanya replied, looking perplexed. I gave all of that information to the officer in charge when I came in. She glanced at Halliday. You were there, too, I believe.

Continue, please, Tanya, Warner said.

The car just appeared, right on my bumper. I hadn’t seen it before. I felt a push from behind, a tap, then another. Stronger. Tanya paused, took a deep breath.

Did you lose control? Warner asked.

Yes. I ended up in the opposite lane, heading into oncoming traffic. I heard a siren. When I looked up, an ambulance was coming right at me, head-on. Again, she paused and looked back into the terror of the moment. I slammed on the brakes and my car went into a spin on the wet road. I ended up behind the ambulance, and going in the right direction. Thank God. She stopped speaking and ran her hand over her face, then took another deep breath. She shuddered. I still don’t know how I avoided a head-on collision with that ambulance. My little car and I would never have survived it.

What happened to the car that bumped you?

No idea. It was gone, disappeared. Tanya rested her head on her hand, her eyes closed. The stress of the past few weeks rolled over her again, cold memories to chill her. I didn’t believe it was intentional, then. I thought it might have been some kids, messing around, thinking they were funny. I couldn’t imagine anyone would want to hurt me. Not until the explosion.

Coffee, Tanya? Warner asked, still taking notes.

No, thank you. A glass of water or a cola would be great, though.

Halliday left and returned with a cold can of cola. Tanya took it with a smile and rubbed the cold can across her forehead.

Do you feel up to telling us about accident number two now? Warner asked.

Tanya nodded. She sipped at her cola, then shifted forward in her chair, alert and intent on her story.

I was returning from Roger Falls. There’s a short cut I like to take—it winds through the woods. Pretty. It’s narrow and winds left and right, so I try to stay in the middle, if I can. She sat back into the chair and lowered her head. I don’t remember where the other car came from. I never saw it until it smashed into the rear of my car. Her breath came faster, as if she were running. The left side of the road is steep and rocky. I saw a narrow gap between the mountain side and a boulder. My car just squeezed through it, but only just. The other car passed me and disappeared around a turn. She took a deep drink of cola.

Do you have any idea who was driving that car? Warner asked.

No.

Can you describe the car? Or the driver?

The car, yes. It was some kind of sporty thing, low on the road, a shiny, silvery body.

The driver. Male or female?

I have no idea.

No idea? Warner said, looking up at her from his notes.

No, Tanya snapped, annoyed. I was busy trying to stay on the road…trying to stay alive. She drank deep from her cola, her eyes closed.

I guess that’s all for today. Please, let us know if you’re going to be leaving for any reason, and if you need anything, just give us a call. Detective Warner stood and offered Tanya his hand. When she reached for it, he clasped her hand in both of his. Are you doing all right? he asked.

Yes, I guess I am, she replied with a soft smile, pleased he was so considerate of her. Physically, I feel fine, but I still have terrible nightmares. I see Kathy, as she was just a bit before, and then as she was right after the accident. I can’t go back to sleep after one of those.

It’s going to pass with time, Tanya. Time, as the saying goes, will heal all. The image will just be a sad memory.

Yes, I suppose so. She looked deep into his eyes, started to say something more, then stopped. She shook his hand and left the building.

She had just returned to Judith’s apartment when the phone rang.

Hello?

Tanya? Sorry to bother you so soon. Detective Warner here.

Yes, she said, ice filling her chest with dread. What’s wrong, Detective?

We’ve just received information your condo has been burglarized. Do you have any idea what they’re looking for?

God, no. I left most of my belongings behind, but I can’t imagine what anyone would want. I don’t think I own anything of value. I brought with me some clothes, my papers and my drawing supplies.

And you have no idea who would want to harm you? None at all?

No, none. Did the explosives used on my car give you any information? She paced the length of the phone cord and back.

Not much. The traces are similar to those we found in one other instance. We suspect an amateur, someone who is angry with you for a real or imagined slight. Maybe your art work was chosen over his, or the teacher likes you more. Whatever. My advice is to get out of town.

Get out of town? Just leave? Leave my friends, my work…everything? My life is here. Tanya stood, frozen, listening to the words, the terrible words… Leave. Pack your things and go away.

You may not have a life, otherwise. Go away…just for a little while. We’ll keep on looking in the meantime.

I’ll think about it, Tanya said and hung up the telephone. Goodbye, she said as she left the room, dazed. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, frustration grasping at her. Leave…Pack and leave…

* * *

From the depths of sleep, Tanya heard a woman’s terrified scream. She opened her eyes. Go away! Away… The words echoed in her ears, screamed in her own voice. Another nightmare. She sat up in the bed and turned on the bedside lamp.

Her nightdress clung to her, cold and wet, soaked with perspiration. Her heart fluttered in her chest, a small trapped bird, and sent her pulse pounding in her temples. She gasped for breath as if she were running a marathon. A headache raged.

Pack and leave. She thought about those words as she slid from bed and fetched a clean nightdress, slipped the damp one off, and felt the soft, dry folds of the clean garment cover her nude body. Pack and leave. Those damn words, told to her, to pack her things and leave one foster home for another. She left the old farm behind for a new one, her old friends behind for the unknown. Pack. A small amount of clothes, old and new drawings, her paints. Her life in a suitcase, so small and simple.

In her nightmare, she stood at the side of an empty, dusty road. In each direction, she could see nothing but dust and dirt, dead trees and naked bushes. She waited for an unknown car which would take her to another nowhere, a place without a name and people without faces. There was more to the dream, but she could never remember. The nebulous, wispy images refused to be grasped.

But the dreams, of late, always ended in the same way. Kathy. Kathy, staggering down the dusty road toward her, her disfigured body blown to gigantic proportions. She stomped with the pulverized parts of her leg, then thrust her other leg forward. Her arms flailed, one sending showers of blood and flesh into the road, the other reaching for Tanya. One eye, blown out of the socket, hung by a thread of nerves and fiber, the other stared at Tanya as the monstrous Kathy howled her pain.

She sobbed, went into the bathroom and turned on the lights. More light to expose what hid in the shadows, more light to remove fear. Making a cup with her hands, she splashed cold water on her face and neck, then washed down four aspirins. Her reflection in the mirror mocked her with blanched, white skin still patched with gauze. Her eyes stared into the distance, hurt and confused.

I can’t go on like this, she said aloud, her voice a whisper. I can’t work, can’t sleep, can’t rest. I don’t know me. I’m not Tanya. She stared into her own eyes as she intoned the words, informing herself of her problems, then left the room. She didn’t bother to turn off the light.

Chapter 2

The nightmare knocked all thoughts of sleep from Tanya. She wandered into the kitchen and put on a pot of water to boil. Chamomile tea, she thought. Nice and hot with a bit of honey, just like Mom made it when she was small.

She sat at the table and rested her head in her hand. Where did that thought come from? It had been so very long since she remembered her early childhood. In fact, she hardly remembered it at all. But now, with no warning, memories came flooding back—her mother, full of laughter; her father…she had images of a strong man holding her in his lap and reading to her, sharing loving glances with Mother. Her brother, a sleeping baby, lay cradled on her mother’s lap. Mother sipped her tea and listened as Father continued to read.

Autumn, and the beginning of school… Her first year at school, just six and small for her age. Nanny tucking a clean hanky in her pocket, adjusting her coat… Nanny, who died too soon. Mother and Father… Tanya watched them leave, watched them enter the big car to take them to the airport. Her baby brother, wrapped in blankets, rode in Mother’s arms. Gone, never to return.

She saw herself, a lost child, as her home was sold. She listened in her mind’s ear as Uncle Ron, a stranger to her, told her she was an orphan. No one wanted her. No one cared. She was, he told her, a great inconvenience, but he would provide if she behaved.

He sent her to the first farm, and then to the second less than a year later. And many others after that. Rules changed from place to place, but she learned never to question. Questions and objections could lead to pain and punishment.

Tanya found her only solace in school, where she learned how to learn, how to study, how to play. Expectations were clear, rules were simple. She loved everything about school, and did well.

The tea kettle whistled, breaking into her thoughts. Tanya poured hot water into the pot, added a teaspoon of honey on top of the tea, and left it to steep.

Her mind returned to the memories brought back by Detective Warner’s words, and by her dream. Pack and leave… So many times, she had to gather her belongings and leave, an unwanted orphan, worthless…

She shook her head. No, not worthless. Tanya’s angel took her into the future, brought her to where she was now—the angel from her childhood Christmas tree, drawn by eager fingers and entered into the school contest. She could still feel the pencils in her hands, carefully drawing the angel over and over in her every free moment from chores and fifth grade homework. With no colored pastels available, she varied the shades of darkness to contrast each element in her scene. And the angel grew, took form—tall and regal, his wings showed every feather as they partially enfolded his body. His cheeks puffed from the effort to force sound from the long trumpet. His robe flowed to touch the toes of each slender foot.

The angel’s creation took hours of attentive work, but the day before the deadline, he stood every bit complete. His arms stretched high and determined; he held the trumpet high in the sign of jubilation.

And her angel won. Tanya poured her tea, breathed deep of the aroma, and listened to the applause in her mind from the audience of long ago. Her angel won her more than a contest, more than praise. He won her a teacher. Her arts teacher, a young man in a wheelchair, chose to teach her over the entire summer. She learned the rudiments of painting, the secrets and crafts of drawing, and left her loneliness behind in paper, paints, and work.

Tanya sipped her tea, still wandering in the past.

Is there enough for me in there?

Startled, Tanya jumped and nearly dumped the tea pot. Judith! I didn’t expect you until tomorrow. I’m so glad to see you. She hugged the taller, slender woman, and was hugged in return.

Judith poured herself a cup of tea and sat at the table.