Always Watching

When she was a couple of feet away, she stopped to lie down in a patch of sun. I made another kissing sound. She rolled over, then pulled herself closer by her claws, a rumbling purr starting up in her throat. Joy spun through me, the sweet pleasure of being responded to by another creature. She was a foot from me. We sat together, basking in the sun. Her black fur looked warm. A light dusting of dirt, maybe from my garden bed, shone on the tips. I reached out and ran a hand down her back. She rolled over again, head bumping against my hand. Another thrill of pleasure. I scratched behind her ears. She rubbed her cheek against my thumb. I moved lower, put my whole hand on her chest.
    Lightning fast, her claws came out and she wrapped herself around my hand, biting. I shook her off, accidentally bumping her nose. She leaped up to the railing, jumped to the fence, and was gone. I rested my head on my knees, my brother’s words echoing in my head. You pressured her.
    All my life I’d been fighting for, or against, something. Before, when things had gotten difficult, I’d always been able to comfort myself by thinking that at least I was helping people, at least I was doing some good on this earth—all the sacrifices were worth it. Now it seemed that all I’d sacrificed was my daughter.
    Inside, I heard the phone ring. When I checked it, I recognized Kevin’s cell number. I put the phone down. I wasn’t in the mood to talk. Despondent, I decided to go for a drive. I didn’t have a destination in mind, just let my car and my heart lead me until I found myself heading out of the city. This time, when I drove through Goldstream Park, I thought about a gas tanker that had recently overturned when a drunk driver lost control of the truck. Cleanup crews had worked for days excising the contaminated soil, but it was too late for the fish. The gas had oozed into their gills and killed them in minutes.
    One terrible mistake, and it would take years to recover.
    *   *   *
    At the top of the Malahat, I turned toward Shawnigan, deciding to hike to the trestle and see for myself how the repairs were going. My body was still sore from falling at Garret’s, but it wasn’t a long walk from the gravel parking lot, and it might loosen my muscles. I was also hoping it would help lighten my mood, or at least my thoughts, so I could see clear of the fog surrounding me. When I’d parked my car, I grabbed my gloves and threw on some hiking boots I kept in the trunk, then started down the gravel road, remembering when it was still covered with railway tracks and ties, the wood hot and sticky with creosote in the summer.
    When I’d reached the trestle, I stopped and admired the majestic site, over six hundred feet of crisscrossed wooden beams curving out across the river, meeting with the forest on the other side, mountain ranges and trees in every direction. I couldn’t see the river—it was probably over one hundred feet below—but I could hear it. A few big machines were parked on the other side, and metal construction fencing blocked off both ends, but I found an area where I could climb under. I walked onto the trestle, now a boardwalk, remembering how as kids we used to dare each other to stay on until the train came, always running when we heard the whistle. The last train had crossed over in 1979.
    Many things had changed since then.
    In the middle of the trestle, I leaned on the edge of the top railing, feeling the breeze whistle down through the valley, carrying with it the scent of fir trees and forest, cold, crisp mountain air. I breathed it in, trying to clear my mind. But I couldn’t stop going over every moment of Lisa’s childhood, all the times I’d left her alone with Garret. I was her mother. I should’ve protected her, should’ve seen what was happening.
    I was gazing down at the river, thinking of my own mother, when I saw a movement to my left. I glanced up and spotted someone walking toward the trestle. When I realized it was a lone male, my body stiffened. Had Aaron sent someone after me? I held my breath and let it out in a relieved rush when the man’s features came into focus, and I noticed a German shepherd beside him. When Robbie finally reached me, his face was flushed and his breathing ragged, like he’d been walking fast.
    “What’re you doing up here?”
    “I needed to do some thinking. What are you doing here?”
    “I was working at a job site at the end of the road and recognized