Treehugger

He set his own glass down. "I think I understand." She turned enough so that she could see him, but not enough to actually face him. "It's been a big change for you, hasn't it?" She gave a small nod. He looked around the room, at all the things collected by her parents and then left behind when they required a more easily manageable residence such as an old-age home. "It wasn't what you expected. You've found it hard to focus. Sometimes the world makes sense and sometimes it doesn't."

"You do understand!" She faced him and shuffled closer to him on the couch. "Oh, Paul. I was so worried you wouldn't understand; that you'd be angry with me. It's such a relief that you know and you accept it. I was very surprised to find that I'd need a friend, and you've been there nearly from the start, helping me."

Veronica lunged forward and kissed him on the lips. Then she pulled back, her eyes closed and she licked her lips.

Paul's heart beat rapidly. She was right in front of him, perched as if to fall onto his chest. His hands grabbed her arms of their own accord and he pulled her to him and kissed her. He could feel a longing within him that he hadn't felt for some time. Veronica ran her hands over his arms and chest as the kiss became more forceful and urgent. For both of them the world seemed to narrow down to this room, and this old couch.

Paul leaned forward, pushing Veronica until she lay on her back and he was on top of her. She hummed her approval. Their lips separated for the briefest of moments as they turned their heads. Then their mouths met again, as his arms pushed underneath her and her legs opened, offering a more intimate embrace. He could feel her warmth underneath him, her warmth and her acceptance. They had gone past the point where there was any doubt as to what they both wanted.

He tasted the mint of her toothpaste, along with the fragrance of the wine. She revelled in the contact, and the small shocks that shot through her body at his touch.

"Oh, Rachel, I've missed you so much..."

And then he pushed himself off of her, even as she still clung to him.

"I'm sorry. I'm not ready for this. I don't know if I'll ever be ready for this. I'm really sorry, Veronica." He disengaged himself from her grip, stood with his back to her and let his shoulders slump. "I'll be by at nine-thirty tomorrow, to pick you up."

Veronica, unsure of what exactly had just happened, watched him walk out of her house. She lifted herself off the couch, ran her fingers over her lips, breasts, hips and then between her legs. She ran to the door.

Paul was just climbing into his truck. He glanced at Veronica, as she stood in the doorway staring at him with her mouth slightly open.

"I - I really liked the kissing, Paul!" she called out.

He couldn't help but smile as he closed the truck door, started the engine and drove away.

Veronica caressed her lips with a fingertip, then went back inside to think.

At nine twenty-five Paul was locking up his front door when he heard Veronica call to him. He turned about in surprise, dropping his keys. She stood with her back against the oak tree, her arms crossed and a friendly smile upon her lips. He waved to her, and recovered his keys from the stoop. In the time it took him to slip the key into the lock, set the deadbolt and walk to his truck she had managed to get to the truck and slip up onto the passenger seat.

"Why do you lock the door of your home but not the one on your truck?" she asked as he started up the vehicle.

"I don't know," he admitted. "I guess growing up in Toronto I lock the door by habit, but I know it's silly to think of a car-thief out here so I leave my truck unlocked."

He pulled the vehicle out of the driveway and onto the road that passed his front gate. "I, ah...I wanted to apologize for last night, Veronica," he said quietly without a glance at her.

They drove on in silence for some time. Paul silently promising that he would not allow himself and Veronica to get in a compromising situation ever again.

Eventually they reached town and after a brief search for a particular street he pulled into a small lot and parked. The buildings looked surprisingly new and flashy for so small a town, but then as the residents of Toronto had spread across southern Ontario a wave of development had washed over the towns and villages before them. Builders wanted to attract those immigrants from the city, and they threw away small town charm in exchange for what they thought would attract the urbanites.

Veronica put her hand upon Paul's bare forearm. "There's no need to apologize, Paul. I can see the great pit inside of you; I knew it was there and I have no regrets."

She stepped out of the truck as Paul tried to figure out what she was talking about. There was something there, he knew, some germ, some seed of something that he knew he'd eventually figure out. For now he'd have to remain mystified by her.

Paul pointed out the law office and they pushed their way in through the unlocked door. A quaint bell signalled their arrival to whoever was inside. There was a second door, much heavier than the first but also unlocked. Passing through that, their eyes adjusted to the difference in lighting from the bright sunshine outside. A young woman sat at a desk. Perhaps a high school student at her part-time job, thought Paul.

"Hi! Can I help you folks?" From her tone it was clear that the teenage girl thought the couple were lost and seeking directions.

"Actually," said Veronica stepping forward, "we'd like to talk with Mister Henry Pike if he's available." She handed the dumbfounded girl a card.

Paul smiled at the receptionist nervously.

The teenager examined the card carefully, even turning it over to look at the back. "Mister Pike is here." She stared at the two of them, clearly struggling to remember what she was to say to people here for business. "Uhm, does he know you're supposed to be here? Did you have an appointment?"

"I'm afraid not, miss." Paul tried to smile reassuringly. "This legal matter came up very quickly yesterday and we were hoping to see if your boss could be of some help to us. We shouldn't take up too much of his time. Could you let him know we're here?" he suggested.

She took the card with her as she left the room.

"I have a good feeling about this, Paul. She seems very open and friendly."

"No telling what her employer is like..."

The girl's quick return interrupted him. She held the door open for them and then closed it behind them once they entered the lawyer's modest office.

A short and slightly overweight man in a collared shirt and slacks was rising from his desk as they entered. He flashed a smile and looked from one to the other uncertainly. He adjusted his tie, tightening it slightly. Paul had expected the man to either be balding and sweaty, or dressed in a very expensive suit, but he was surprised to find that neither was true.

"Welcome. Have a seat. So nice to meet a colleague, Miss Price." The man's manner was abrupt, suggesting to Paul and Veronica that he did not like surprises.

Veronica seemed to slip into full legal mode. "Thank you for seeing us on such short notice, Mister Pike. I understand your time is very valuable." The two lawyers shook hands very formally. To Paul's eyes Veronica's stance seemed uncharacteristic. "May I introduce Mister Paul Cheevers?"

"Mister Cheevers." The older gentleman shook Paul's hand, and then motioned for his two guests to take their seats. Paul noticed the lawyer's eyes glance at their hands, possibly looking for briefcases, and then the man seemed to relax a little.

"So, Miss Price, are you part of the Price family that lived just outside of town, just off highway thirty-nine?" Pike asked as he sat, pulling his chair close to the desk.

Veronica's eyes glazed over momentarily, causing Pike to send a concerned glance toward Paul. "Why, yes. Mom and Dad moved into a retirement community in Newmarket not too long ago. Did you know them?"

"No, only by name. Your folks and I went to the same local schools, but they were a few years ahead of me. But I don't recognize you, Mister Cheevers. Are you a recent arrival to our fine town?"

Paul sat up straight as if he were a school-boy being addressed by his teacher. Lawyers and cops always made him feel a little nervous. "Yes, sir. That's correct."

"He bought the old Laurier place. Did you know them, Mister Pike?" interrupted Veronica.

"By name only. I seem to remember that being a nice little property with some pleasant shade trees that kids were always climbing, and I think it sits right at the lakeside."

"That's the place," stated Paul.

"So what can I do for you two?"

Paul and Veronica exchanged looks, and her confidence seemed to disappear.

"Well, sir," began Paul. "I have a problem and Veronica - Miss Price - has been helping me with it, but we've hit a roadblock and are both hoping that you can fix it. You see," Paul took a deep breath, "there's an enormous oak tree sitting at the front end of my property that the town wants to cut down. It seems there's some ordinance or by-law that gives town staff the right to label trees as hazards to pedestrians and vehicles so that they are then cut down. I don't want it cut down."

Pike steepled his fingers in front of his face and sat back. "There's a municipal expert on the condition of the trees, and he makes the decisions about which ones have to come down. If he's noted the condition of the tree as being dangerous then the town is well within its rights to bring it down. If we didn't we could be open to a lawsuit. The fact that it is on your property is unfortunate, but I'm sure you don't want to put anyone at risk. My understanding is that this safety blitz has been going on for a few years now."

"That tree is perfectly safe."

Both men turned to Veronica. Pike motioned for her to continue.

"My tree is safe and sound, and in no danger of collapsing or falling onto a vehicle or person. Whoever made that assessment didn't know what they were talking about."

Paul put his hand on her sleeve.

"I'm sorry, but I thought I understood that the tree was on your property Mister Cheevers."

"It is. Uhm, Veronica's rather possessive of it. You mentioned kids playing in it and she was one of those kids."

"Ah! Well I don't see what I can do in this case. The municipal expert has assessed the tree, and determined that it's dangerous. The town intends on cutting it down. As a councilman I can't pry into the business of individual government workers; they do the bidding of the regional and town councils. And as a lawyer I can't open a suit against the town council on your behalf as I'd be in a conflict of interest."

"You can't direct a regional or town employee to leave the tree alone?" asked Paul.

"I'm afraid not. Giving elected officials that kind of power over individual government workers would be dangerous. As a member of council I could introduce something in a council meeting to temporarily prevent the destruction of the tree, but I'm sure it would just be a temporary injunction."

"So there's nothing you can do to help us?" Paul glanced at Veronica as he asked the question. She was staring intently at the lawyer.

"Well, I can give you the name of another lawyer who could launch the suit on your behalf. I'm assuming Miss Price cannot for some undisclosed reason. However, such legal proceedings would be too late; the tree would likely be cut down before a Justice of the Peace would see you or instruct the town to leave it alone." The older man shrugged unhappily. "I'd like to help you, but I'm afraid you've just waited too long before acting."

Paul could feel a blind fury rising within him. Suddenly, Veronica's hand was upon his again. The contact stabilized his emotions, gave him an anchor against a cruelly ironic and uncaring universe.

"Is there nothing that you can do or suggest?" she asked. Paul looked up at Pike and saw the man moved by the desperation in her voice.

"I would really like to help you, but this is all pretty much cut and dried. The expert assessed the tree. It's been identified as a danger. It's going to be cut down. I'm sorry."

The three of them sat in silence for a few seconds.

"Look, I don't want to be rude but I do have other work to attend to. Being both a lawyer and a councilman takes a lot of my time, and if I have to stay later here then I miss out on family activities..."

Paul stood and offered his hand. "No, we won't bother you any longer. I want to thank you for being honest with us, and I really do believe that you'd like to help us."

Pike also stood and grasped Paul's hand in both of his. "Mister Cheevers and Miss Price, I wish the both of you the best of luck in this endeavour. I don't expect it to turn out as you want, but I do hope it somehow does."

He shook Veronica's hand as well, and then the two left. The girl at the front desk stared at them full of curiosity, but said nothing except, "Good afternoon."

"Well that was fruitless," stated Veronica, and then she gave an odd chuckle.

"Maybe not." She waited for him to elaborate, but whatever idea had sparked within him had failed to fully bloom. "There's something..."

"Let's have lunch, Paul."

He blinked at her. "Just like that. Jesus, Veronica, you switch gears so fast it's frightening."

"You have to eat."

"We have to eat," he corrected. She just shrugged.

They went to the Swiss Chalet on the main highway, a short distance out of town. While waiting for their order, Paul struggled over everything that Pike had said to the two of them. There was something in what they'd been told in the lawyer's office that provided a possible way out of their predicament, he just knew it somehow. Veronica stared at him, as if she could see into the depths of his soul.

It wasn't until halfway through their lunch that they began talking to each other.

"So, no clues as to what's lurking in the back of your mind?" she asked, while examining a french fry as if she'd never seen one before.

"Not yet. What was that thing you said earlier about there being a great pit inside of me?"

"I can see it. I haven't figured out exactly how to describe what I see, but it's there. In fact, when I look around this restaurant at each of you I see the same thing. Some sit at the bottom of pits far smaller than yours, and some have managed to dig tunnels to the pits of others so they can share what time they have, but yours is the deepest I've seen."

"Pits?" he asked while chewing a mouthful of chicken. "What on Earth are you talking about?"

Veronica dipped a piece of chicken into the sauce and watched as droplets slowly fell from it. "It is hard to describe." She frowned. "Maybe I can describe it best by stating what it is not." She put the piece of chicken into her mouth and chewed it thoughtfully. Paul reached across the table with a paper napkin and wiped her chin, where some of the brown sauce had dripped.

"I was listening to some music at the house. There was a CD by someone named Pink Floyd..."

"And by the way which one's Pink?" Paul interrupted with a chuckle.

Veronica gave him a confused look.

"It's not a someone. It's a band."

"Oh. Well, they have this album about a person building a wall, a barrier, around himself as protection from emotional pain." She picked up another french fry and looked at the tiny, burnt thing doubtfully. "You don't build walls, you dig pits. The deeper your hurt, the deeper the pit. It's a survival mechanism. It seems to be impossible for one of you to slip from your own pit into someone else's." She pointed at a young couple leaning toward each other at a nearby table. "The only solution I've seen is like them, where two people dig a tunnel that joins their pits."

"We're all in pits?"

"Of your own making. It's sad, but it is beautiful in its own way. Children's pits seem to be much shallower than those of adults, but you all start digging them as children."

"We make our own Hell," he said, putting his knife and fork down carefully. "That all sounds very depressing."

Veronica shrugged. "I wish it were otherwise, Paul, but that is what I see."

"Have you ever seen someone who wasn't in a pit?"

She cast her eyes down to the table. "Not for a long, long time, Paul. I suppose that's helped dig my own pit."

"I have a pit for a reason, Veronica. And after last night I think you deserve to hear the full story." He looked at her. She continued to eat, but it was clear that she was ready to listen to everything he said. He took a deep breath.

"It was cancer that took Rachel." Paul ran a hand through his hair and chuckled. "You know, I always used to wonder why people talked about someone being taken away. Now I know," he added in a quiet voice. Veronica folded her hands on the table and stared at him intently.

"We didn't suspect anything in the beginning. She just went for a routine exam and something dubious popped up. The gynecologist wanted to send her for more testing. She told us it was probably nothing, but it was a good idea to get it checked out." He licked his lips, looked away, and then forced his eyes back to Veronica's face.

"A few weeks later Rachel had her next test at a hospital. It came back with a positive. I could see the fear in her eyes, and I'm sure I looked just as scared to her. The doctor and nurses assured us that there were a lot of false positives with this test, and that there was probably nothing wrong. But we could somehow feel the unspoken truth that some of those positives were real positives, and that began to scare us a little."

"A few more weeks went by and we're at a specialist's office. We're looking at the other patients and they all look pretty rough. Rachel still felt fine, so we whispered about how we'd go out and celebrate when this test told us that the others had all been wrong." Paul glanced at his empty plate, then grabbed a french fry off his companion's plate and slowly ate it.

"A couple of days later we're called back in and given the bad news. The specialist was very optimistic about treatment. There were a number of things we could try, and two had success rates of almost one hundred per cent when the cancer was caught early. We started on the radiotherapy first. They target the tumour, or whatever it is, and zap away. There are repeated treatments for a short while. It didn't work. Rachel went on chemotherapy. That took its toll on her. She lost her hair and by the end of it she looked so frail." Paul leaned forward and began to talk more quietly.

"That didn't work. So they recommended surgery. Rachel and I were getting desperate. She hadn't fully recovered from the earlier treatments for some reason the doctors didn't understand. They went in and scooped out a bunch of her insides. Two months later she was still in that hospital bed and looking like an old woman. None of them had any idea why the cancer was still killing her. They suggested a bunch of experimental therapies. They looked to me for permission because she was getting a little incoherent." Paul took a long drink of water. Then he rubbed his eyes.

"Do you know what it's like to have to make a decision about whether someone else lives or dies?"

She opened her lips and then hesitated for a second before answering. "No, Paul. Not really."

"Do you know what it's like to want to be with someone - to never want to lose them, and then to look into their eyes and see that they want you to let them go? Rachel was tired. Tired of the treatments. Tired of the nausea. Tired of throwing up. Tired of being too sick to get out of bed, and tired of steadily getting worse. We had a very emotional talk once they finally left us alone."

"So you feel like you gave up?"

"What? No, I didn't give up. Rachel gave up." He ran his hands over his face. "I was afraid to give up. I was so willing to let her keep on suffering as long as I still had her."