Read Online Falling From Grace by Ann Eriksson - Free Book Online

swelled the river, the current swift and strong, and the shoreline had retreated up the bank. My favourite rock was almost submerged, so I settled on a sandy spot at the edge of the trees. Dusk was falling, the perfect time for wildlife viewing, but I wasn’t hopeful with the amount of noise coming from the camp. I wondered what my father, Mel the mathematician, would think of Marcel’s analysis of average. Scientists discarded outlier data—measurements falling outside the normal range of variation—as suspect and unreliable. I expected Marcel already knew the scientific term for average was mean .
    I jumped when Paul plopped down beside me. “I’ve been looking all over for you,” he said. “Would you take Rainbow?”
    â€œWhere?” I answered.
    â€œIn your tent.”
    â€œWhat?” I stammered, unsure I’d heard him right. “What for? She’s happy enough with her mom. That tent’s too small for three of—”
    â€œTwo.”
    â€œWhat do you mean? Two. Where are you going?” His eyes slid from mine and I realized what he wanted. “But . . . what about . . .”—I groped for a name—“What about Tessa?”
    He shrugged. “Will you?”
    I didn’t answer. He didn’t know what he was asking.
    â€œPlease,” he pleaded, touching my shoulder. “I’ll owe you. Big time.”
    A few minutes after he left, Rainbow stomped, crying, into the tent and threw her sleeping bag onto the spot vacated by Paul. Eyes red-rimmed and swollen, her words caught in her throat as she ranted.
    â€œI h . . . hate him,” she declared. “I’m n . . . not inviting him to my b . . . birthday. And if he ever gets m . . . m . . . married . . . . . . I’m not c . . . c . . . coming to his wedding and my . . . my mom stays . . . r . . . right here with me.” She stabbed the floor of the tent three times with her index finger.
    I helped arrange her bedding, not bothering to assure her Paul would move on soon enough. “I need to sleep, no talking.” I felt oddly motherly as I tucked the edge of the bag around Rainbow’s chin. My lecture about peace and quiet was unnecessary; she rolled away, chest still heaving with her anguish. I hesitated, then patted her thin back, struck by the feel of the sharp edges of bone under the shabby cotton T -shirt she wore for pyjamas.
    â€¢ • •
    The protesters rose before dawn and I listened from the tent while they fixed breakfast and headed out for the road, Rainbow a motionless lump beside me. Her bare feet stuck out from the top of her bag and, worried she would suffocate, I zipped the bag open. I dressed, crawled outside, and made myself a cup of tea. Paul and Mary were still asleep, their shoes tucked under the tent fly. So much for her convictions about trees. Before making the long drive to Duncan to talk to the company, I decided to try an area upriver where I’d had intermittent success receiving a cell phone signal in the past. I was in luck, the signal weak but adequate, I punched in the number for the PCF office and listened to it ring. When the receptionist answered, I explained my situation.
    â€œIf you leave your phone number, someone will call,” she assured me.
    â€œI can’t be reached by phone. Can’t I talk to anyone in charge?” I said.
    â€œNo one’s in.”
    â€œCan I make an appointment?” I said, irritated at the runaround.
    â€œI’ll have someone call you,” she repeated.
    â€œYou can’t call me,” I yelled into the phone before hanging up. “I’m in the middle of freaking nowhere.”
    Furious, I hooked up my laptop and pounded out an email to the company CEO , another to Roger, but it seemed futile, my last few pleas to them had gone unanswered. An email from Bryan appeared in my Inbox. I opened it to find another picture of him and his dog, Mercy. I rolled my