George grabbed Rudy’s head ruff and playfully wrestled him from side to side. “Stop trying to dig holes, idiot. The ground is frozen!”
Rudy licked his face.
CHAPTER TWO
After the doghouses were patched and an adequate area shovelled clear around them, Hannah and her father went inside to get a cup of hot chocolate. The cabin was empty; Hannah’s mom was teaching Kelli how to cross-country ski outside on the deserted road.
“Dogsleds next,” said her dad after they had finished their drinks.
They got their coats and boots and hats and mitts back on, took the shovels, and went around the cabin to the back porch, which was really a lean-to with sides, although someone had added a shallow front wall, like stables have. There were many pegs here, and different-size hooks, and they all held dogsledding equipment. Four large pegs held a heavy touring sled that needed many dogs to pull, and a smaller sled sat underneath it on a shelf.
“We’ll use the cross backs tomorrow,” said her father, after they had pulled out all the dog harnesses and inspected them for tears. The cross back harnesses were for racing and formed a big X across the dog’s back. The other harnesses were square and had more padding on them; they were for pulling heavy loads.
Hannah and her dad checked the rigging: the long ganglines that the dogs were attached to, the short necklines, the thick tie-out line, and the tough, webbed snowhook line. The snowhook was used to anchor the sled. It was a heavy claw with two sharp prongs that were curved so that the more the sled moved, the more they dug in. The backs of the prongs were attached by a flat bar, so the driver could step on it and drive it into the snow quickly to stop the sled.
Then they set out a gangline for four dogs — Nook would lead, with Sencha beside her and Bogey an
d Rudy behind as the wheel dogs.
Hannah listened half-heartedly as her father rambled on and planned their short trip. Jeb had been in the Army proper, but both her father and Scott Purcell were Reservists. They both loved planning things “the Army way,” which, as far as Hannah could tell, meant making a list and then adding or subtracting things a hundred times an hour. What to take, how to pack, what to eat, when to leave — endless tasking just to go to a neighbour’s house.
The only thing that kept Hannah from freaking out was the fact that her dad hadn’t said no to the summer camp idea. So, she dutifully laid out the rigging and helped tighten the loose screws on the frame of the dogsled, and oiled the wood on the handle and put wax on the bottom of the runners so they wouldn’t stick to the snow. They also put new black hockey tape on the handle and replaced the bungee cord that held the drag mat and the attached metal brake off the snow. And it was all very boring and she felt herself floating away a little, worrying about what Lindsay was doing, and what she was missing, not being in Toronto.
Nothing ever happened up here; it was just endless days of fixing things and watching her sister get boringly excited about the forest. And more and more often, Hannah would go home and find out she’d missed something — a new person added to or an old one subtracted from their group at school, or a new routine in ballet that she hadn’t been there to learn — and she would struggle to keep up, trying to learn everything in secret while making it look like she’d known it all along.
“Grab some ointment and booties, too, Hannah,” said her father, so she packed into a bag the ointment and the fleece booties that protected the dogs’ paw pads from the cold and the abrasive ice, as well as preventing snow from getting caught between their toes.
When they were done, it was almost dark. They stomped back to the front porch and once again shook off all the snow, then went inside and undressed. It seemed to Hannah that most of winter was about putting on clothing and then taking it off, and being wet in between. At school plays and meetings, when her parents talked to other parents, Hannah heard them say things like, “We like the simplicity of it.” But it wasn’t simple. There were more stupid things to do up here in one day than in a week in Toronto.
Her mom and sister had returned from their skiing, and as Hannah and her father undressed, the phone rang. Hannah snatched up the receiver. It was a ridiculous phone, a squat square of dull beige plastic, ugly and heavy. It even had a curly cord that attached the handset to the dialing part! And the dialing part was round, like one of those Fisher Price toy phones for babies. You had to stick your finger in and twirl it instead of punching buttons. The cord was ancient and duct-taped in several places, and so stretched out that only small lengths of it still retained their original spring-like shape.
“Hello?”
“This is Lieutenant Wagner. I need to speak to Mr. Williams.”
“Just a moment, please,” said Hannah.
She held up the receiver. “Dad,” she said, then placed it on the counter. “It’s the Army.”
CHAPTER THREE
“Yes, sir … Yes, sir … No, sir, I’m at my family’s camp in Timmins … Yes, sir.”
Hannah stopped listening closely. She knew there were only two reasons for her father to talk like that: he was being called up, or he was getting a promotion. Either way, it meant he was leaving.
“Okay. Do we have an estimation of time? Yes, sir … No, sir, I’ll leave the car for my wife and catch a ride with Corporal Purcell. What are the chances of mobilizing? … No, sir, just getting my family kitted out in case, since we’re all up here … Yes, sir. I’ll see you at the rendezvous … Thank you, sir.”
He put the phone down and immediately picked it up again, speaking as he dialed. “We’ve been called up. Big storm in Quebec. They thought I was still in Toronto. I guess that damn answering machine isn’t working again.”
“Are you going?” asked Mina.
Hannah’s dad held up a finger and spoke into the phone. “Hey. You get the call? … What? … Well, you could have called me, Homer … Okay. I’ll see you in an hour.” He hung up.
Mina’s eyebrows rose. “You’re going tonight?”
“Yep.”
“I thought it wasn’t that serious.”