Deer Life by Ron Sexsmith

Author:Ron Sexsmith
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Dundurn
Published: 2017-08-22T04:00:00+00:00

We now rejoin Maggie and Crad getting reacquainted over tea. Lucky and Claira had just left for home, leaving behind a space that could only be filled by shy glances and awkward bits of conversation. “She’s a lovely girl!” said Maggie, fidgeting with her hands and looking up at the ceiling.

“She is indeed!” replied Crad, scuffing his feet and looking down at the floor. “And that deer is quite something, too,” he added before reclaiming his low seat in the corner.

As he did so, Maggie dragged her chair to the farthest reaches of her tiny living room so as not to appear overly flirtatious. It seemed like ages since she’ d been in the company of a gentleman caller, and so she couldn’t quite recall what the proper etiquette might be. “Ever since I met that deer, Lucky, I’ve felt strangely comforted,” she further explained. “As you can imagine, it’s been quite a challenge just getting my hopes up every day, ever since Deryn went missing. But whenever I see Lucky … up they go!”

Crad smiled and sipped his tea, which slurped much louder than he’ d intended. “Mmmm,” he enthused, looking at his cup as though it held the answer for it tasting so good.

“So these items you mentioned?” Maggie inquired. “You say you stumbled upon them?”

“And how!” said Grimsby, chuckling at the memory of it. “One of them sent me rolling, quite ungracefully I might add, down a very steep incline.”

“Oh my! Were you hurt?” asked Maggie, who upon closer inspection did notice a few rips and tears in his apparel (not to mention some curious stains).

“I’m fine, really, Maggie, all things considered,” said Grimsby. “I come blessed with extra padding!” (Here he performed a brief paradiddle on his overflowing belly to demonstrate.) “Except for these torn clothes and some wounded pride, I think I came out of it rather well!” he laughed while inspecting one of the many scratches on his lower arm.

“So what was it that caused such a tumble as that?” asked Maggie, not finding any of it amusing at all.

“Well, it was a kind of a sleigh-ish contraption, with wheels and a handle for pulling,” Crad replied, checking Maggie’s face for any sign of recognition. “There’s an inscription on the side that reads P. Hedlight, which I’m assuming is …”

“My husband!” Maggie spoke up excitedly. “You found his hunting cart!”

“Yes, and what I believe to be his rifle, as well. I have them back at the inn.”

“But no sign of Deryn?” she asked with hands folded in prayer.

“I’m afraid not,” he replied, though with considerable guilt. He had debated telling her about the grave but decided against it at the last minute. “If you like, I can drop off his things tomorrow,” he said to no response, for her mind had just now drifted off somewhere.

“Maggie?” He gently talked her back to the present.

“Oh! I’m sorry Mr. Grim — I mean Crad,” she responded, slightly embarrassed. “My mind, it tends to wander these days.” After which she took a long sip of tea before continuing.

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