The House

By Dawn Natelle

The promised new arc. And I know how much you all like a good cliffhanger: Dawn

Chapter 32 – The Chip Truck, part one

Dary was looking after the babies on the front porch in the late April sun. A vehicle sped into the lane. It was a van with a huge graphic of a clown on the side, with the words Walter’s Chips at the top. The van stopped, and a chubby native girl stepped out, holding a small child.

“Is there a doctor here?” she shouted out to Dary.

“Yes, you are lucky. She is at the hospital most days, but she is here today,” Dary called back. “Is your child ill?” Sun and Red were coming out from the mill at a trot, where the bus had been getting another coat of paint, the final white primer coat.

Just then the chip truck sped out of the lane. Sun got to the woman first and immediately saw that the child was severely ill. “Walter went for gas,” the native girl said. “Can the doctor help Billy? Walter is in an awful hurry to get to London and we can’t wait.”

“I doubt we can cure your son in a few minutes,” Nora said turning to Red “Get Grey: I think he is with the horses.”

Red ran for the stable while Sun and Nora took the child and his mother up to the doctor’s office, where John was working on the computer.

“It looks like pneumonia,” Nora said. “We do have a medicine man who will try to help, but either way we need to keep the boy here for several days.”

“Oh, Walter will be so upset,” the woman said. “My name is Belle Johnson, and Walter and I are contracted to spend a week in southwestern Ontario at a small May Day festival. We will be back here on May 2 or 3.”

“The boy needs treatment,” Nora said. “He might well die if you travel with him. Even taking him to a hospital in London would be dangerous. He could deteriorate as you travel.”

“Can we leave him with you?” Belle said. “Walter saw the gas station just down the road, and went to fill up. He will be back here at any time, wanting us to go.”

“Here is a guardianship form,” John said, pulling a page out of the computer. “It will allow us to treat and care for your child until your return. If you and your husband can sign it we can keep Billy while you are away.”

Belle signed the paper immediately, as a horn beeped from the driveway. It was the chip truck. Belle opened the door and explained that Billy would stay at the House while they were in London. Walter quickly scribbled his name on the form while Sun and John watched, and then thrust the form back at her. She handed it to Sun, and Belle got into the van. Walter pulled out before the door was even shut, kicking up gravel as he headed out onto the road.

Sun and John went into the house. Both of them would sign the guardianship form as witnesses. Inside they found that Grey was already singing his healing song in front of the boy, who looked to be about two years old.

Four hours later, Grey stood up. “He is fine now,” he told Nora. “I left him sleeping and I think I will wait until he wakes up in an hour or so. Could your white medicine have cured him?”

“I think so,” Nora asked. “We would have had to use antibiotics, and it would have taken four days, not four hours. I saw the mother was First Nations, so I assumed you should try your methods first.”

“He is only half native,” John said. “I got a good look at the father, and he is a tall white man. Looked a little rough, actually.”

“Well, it was enough,” Grey said as he took another long draught of the spring water that Sun had brought while he was inside the boy, curing him. “I think I am getting better at this. In the earlier days a four-hour treatment would have left me completely wiped out. I’m tired, and don’t think I could heal a mouse right now, but at least it doesn’t make me need to go to bed for a week.”

Shortly after, the boy woke and started to cry. Nora picked him up, but he was still agitated. Finally Grey took him into his arms and the boy immediately calmed down and stopped his tears.

“Looks like you have a new friend,” Nora joked. After a few minutes Grey put the boy down, but Billy was shy with everyone but Grey. He seemed to insist on holding one of Grey’s legs when the older man moved. Eventually Billy was in Grey’s arms as he was carried out into the Great Hall, where Dary was looking after the babies, who captured Billy’s attention. Grey sat down on the sofa next to Daisy, and slowly the boy made friends with the older woman, eventually agreeing to move to her lap from Grey’s. A few minutes later he slid down to the floor and walked over to get a closer look at the babies.

Flint was unable to walk on his own yet, but he managed to pull himself up onto Billy and hang off the older child, and the two walked across the room in an infantile three-legged race that made everyone in the room smile. Dary quickly made friends with Billy by reading a book to him.

But when Grey stood and went to the kitchen to start on lunch, Billy shot after him like a bullet. Lunch that day was soup and sandwiches, and when Grey sat down at his normal spot he soon found someone scaling up his leg and sitting on his lap. Grey didn’t mind: He rather liked the little boy. He spooned a few spoons of soup into the lad, and then cut an egg salad sandwich into bite-sized pieces, which the boy devoured.

“He seems hungry,” Nora noted as she watched Grey feeding the boy, cautioning against bites too large several times.

“I wonder if he wants some banana puree,” Sun said, and she had Dary slid a bowl of the food the babies were eating over to Grey. Sun was starting to wean her charges. She didn’t have enough milk for the two as they grew into toddlers. Both were eating a little solid food now, and Flint seemed to enjoy cow milk. Minihaha preferred her mother’s milk, and Sun was glad to provide as much as possible.

Billy tried the banana, and eagerly ate it. He also drank milk from a glass that Grey slowly tipped so he could drink without spilling.

“You look good doing that,” Dan said. “I just hope I can do as well when I have to get into it.” Cindy was still a few months away from giving birth so Dan and her, and grandma Lois, were getting anxious.

“Yeah,” Grey said. “I really like the little fellow. It’s a pity he will only be with us for a week.

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“As Walter and Belle pulled out from the house, and sped past the store, he said: “They have really good pie in there. I had a slice of blueberry.”

“I like pie,” Belle whined.

“You don’t need pie,” Walter snapped. “You are fat enough, aren’t you?”

The girl couldn’t argue. She had been thin once, when she was last in high school in Grade 10. Then she had run away with the young man who had bought a chip truck with the inheritance he got when his father died. It was a small inheritance, but provided the down payment on the fully equipped van. He had been stationed on a road in the north for a few years, and did a good business, hiring girls from the local reservation to man the truck.

Then a new highway went in, and his business dried up as the traffic did. At about the same time his latest employee got pregnant, and in what Walter now considered temporary insanity, he married the girl. There was one good thing though. Once they were married, he didn’t have to pay her a salary. That was fine until she got too big to work well in the van, and he again had to hire a helper. That girl lasted until five months after Billy was born, when Walter insisted that Belle could take over again.

Billy grew up hanging from a jumping gym in the corner of the van. As business dropped lower and lower, they stopped using a motel, and Walter and Belle would sleep on a foam pad on the floor of the van. Billy slept in a corner, but was always there. Thus Walter was happy that the boy was staying at the doctor. Perhaps he would be able to get laid again.

The boy was more of a problem to Walter than he was worth. First it had been the constant expense of buying diapers. And while that point had passed the kid was constantly outgrowing his clothes and Belle would insist he needed more. She had been talking about another shopping trip before the kid got sick.

They arrived in London just after midnight. It had been a quiet drive, with Belle worried about her son, and Walter worried about the business. He was four months behind in payments on the van, almost $10,000, and was strapped for supplies. He had enough potatoes and oil to last this week, but would have to restock soon … with money he didn’t have. One good thing is that the repo men he assumed were after the van thought it was still in the Ottawa area when it was actually going to be far away in London.

He had a contract for one week at the fair, and hoped to find a permanent location in the area. He hoped to locate something for $1000 a month or less, with ample parking and a good tourist route where people would see his van. The carnival booth had been arranged thanks to a high school friend of his that was involved with Rotary in this area. The friend said that the site would cost $500, but would provide him a good location. So it was to his surprise to find another chip truck less than 40 yards away when he stopped to set up.

To many people a chip truck looks like a ticket to make money. You open the window and people start throwing cash at you. But in fact it is a hard business. In Walters’ case he had the payments on the van to look after, plus the site fees. Then there was the cost of potatoes (cheap) and the cost of oil (expensive). Labor was another cost that Walter didn’t need to worry about, since Belle and he would do all the work. Walter walked over to the other van, and noted that the prices were lower: he would have to cut his to match. And even then many people would go to a truck they knew from the past.

He wandered back to his truck in a foul mood. He pretty much raped his young wife, telling her she wouldn’t be allowed to use the phone in the morning if she didn’t provide her services. She desperately wanted to call and see how her son was, so she reluctantly let him have his way, then rolled over to sleep as far from him as possible on the foam.

In the morning Walter was up first, and kept control of the phone. He was hoping to find a location to permanently station the van for the summer, preferably along the tourist routes near Lake Huron. As soon as 9 a.m. hit he phoned every village and municipality office along the way to see if they had chip wagon licenses. There were none: those that existed were booked, and many did not allow mobile trucks because the permanent restaurants would protest unfair competition.

Belle finally got to use the phone at 11, and her call to the House was answered by Dary. She called Grey, who was trying to find some better clothes for the boy: the clothes he came in were far too small.

“Grey Wolf speaking,” Grey said.

“It is Belle Johnson. I left my boy there yesterday evening.”

“Billy? He is fine now. In fact he is right here now. Would you like to speak to him?” Grey said. “Billy, do you want to talk to your Mommy?”

Billy was on Grey’s lap in a second, holding the phone. “Say hello to Mommy,” Grey prompted.

“Hi mommy,” the boy said. The girl’s heart leaped as she heard him, sounding completely healthy.

“Are you okay, darling boy?” Belle said. “Are they treating you well?”

“Gway fix me,” the boy said. “Him make all the booboos go ‘way. Me like Gway.”

“And Gway likes Billy,” Grey said into the phone.

Belle spoke with her son for a few minutes longer. By then Walter was standing next to her, pointing at his wrist in the universal sign to get off the phone. Reluctantly, she did, promising her son that she would see him in a few days.

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Back at the House, Grey just gave up and took Billy out in his old clothes, asking Sun if he could borrow the LTD, which had car seats for the babies in the back. He was able to adjust one to fit Billy, and the two headed off to Tweed, where the little clothing store had a limited arrangement of children’s clothes. Grey bought the boy jeans, socks, underwear, three cheap t-shirts and a pair of sneakers. The clothes were a bit big if anything: the clerk at the store said he would grow into them.

Then, after a stop in the bakery for cookies, they headed home to put on the new clothes.

At lunch that day Willow had big news: Frank at the store was naming her manager. Wendy the original waitress had seniority, but Willow had more of a managerial bent. Frank and his wife had not taken a day off since opening the store eight years earlier and realized that with Willow in the store, they could leave for a few days. They hoped to take a long-weekend trip to Montreal a week or two before the May 24 weekend, when traffic on the highway (and thus the store) would pick up for summer.

So they named Willow manager, and told her to hire a few more people to work the store when they were gone. A minimum of four people was ideal when the busses came in. Tanya said she would help when she could, but she couldn’t work on Wednesday or Thursday when she was in school in Peterborough. Dary volunteered, but Willow decided that her daughter was too young.

Hawk came up with the most valuable suggestion. His sister Feather was not planning to go to college, and was nearly finished high school. She, and perhaps a friend, could come up and interview with Willow, who Frank had delegated the hiring process to.

Cooper noted that the girls would be still in school until mid-June, and suggested that he could set up a home study for them, since most of their classes would be preparing for exams.

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Walter was pissed. First of all the chip truck across the way was getting all the business. They had been in the area for years, and people liked their product. They would have a lineup of five or six people before anyone came over to Walter’s truck. Sales had been miserable for the first three days of the carnival: and then the rains came. It poured on Thursday and Friday, and the sales at the truck were a pittance. Then Saturday was spotty with rain off and on, which cut the crowds at the carnival in half, or more.

Sunday had started with rain, which ended about 10, but that was enough to kill the crowds for the day. Walter had been increasingly quiet all week, and now was hardly speaking to Belle. He announced that they were closing early just after lunch: most of the rides were also being dismantled. He went around to turn up the heat on all three fryers.

Belle noticed that all the fryers were at max heat, and starting to smoke, so she turned them down, as was normal for closing up. Ideally they wanted the fat to solidify before they drove away, and she was anxious to get back to Actinolite to see her son.

Walter slapped her wrists when she was changing the third fryer. “What are you doing, woman?” he snapped. “I turned those up, and you should leave them be. I want to burn off all the gunk in the oil.”

“I was hoping we would leave quickly,” Belle said. “I want to see Billy tonight.”

“Forget that,” Walter sneered. “I want to cruise the lakefront highway and see if there is a better, cheaper spot for the truck. We didn’t make enough to get new oil, so we have to use what we have. Billy can wait for another day or two. You said he was okay.”

While he was talking, Walter turned the heat back on, and the oil was smoking badly again. Then Walter grabbed Belle and held her close. For a moment she resisted, and then nestled into the man who she had loved. And then Walter spit his lit cigarette into the oil of the nearest fryer.

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“That’s just horrible,” Lois said as she and Daisy were watching the news from Peterborough, the nearest station.

“What is that?” John asked: he had been reading.

“There was a terrible fire in London,” Lois said. “It showed a someone coming out of a chip truck, all on fire. They shouldn’t put things like that on TV.

John jumped to attention, and dashed off to his computer in the office, firing it up. He had recently found a new site on the Internet called YouTube, and he booted it. A quick search found the video he was looking for: Chip Truck Fire in London, Canada.

One quick view of the two-minute video caused him to call in Sun and Grey.

“Watch this,” he told the two. “The first few seconds of the video showed some men taking down a Ferris wheel. Then there was an explosion, and the camera turned 180 degrees to show a chip truck ablaze. Then a person came out the door, clothes completely in flames like a human torch. A man from the Ferris wheel reacted immediately, grabbing a blanket and jumping on the burning person, quickly putting out the flames. Not a minute later EMT crews were present: they must have been stationed at the carnival.”

“Can you back it up?” Grey asked. “Just before the person comes out.” John fiddled, and got the video back to where Grey wanted and froze it. All three looked in horror as they saw the clown face on the side of the truck with the words Walter’s Chips at the top. It was Billy’s parents.