Free Who by Fire by Fred Stenson Page B

herself that she had no intention of leading the young man on—but she had already kissed him. In the mirror, she saw her face redden. “Kissed him,” she said aloud, so she could watch her mouth make the words. She brushed the red spot on her cheek. Her hand, veined and corded, looked like her mother’s.
    She smoothed her dress tight over her breasts. She told herself she was doing something for her family that Tom could not do. Right now, Lance was on his way with information they probably needed. The fact that she had not written anything in the binder or told Tom what Lance had already said was something shebatted away like a fat old fly. She could still do it. She would when she was ready.
    Minutes later, Lance sat at her table. He was having his usual problem raising his eyes. They were focused into the orange tea in his cup. His nose was slim and precisely made, unlike any nose she had seen on a man. She suspected he would have preferred coffee but they were running low. She could have served Lance water stirred with ashes and he would have thanked her very much.
    He asked about Billy. “You said you were taking him to the doctor.”
    “They phoned during the snowstorm. The tests show that he has anemia.”
    Lance winced. “Did they give him something?”
    “Iron pills. I haven’t picked them up yet because of the storm. They want him to eat liver. What’s this about, Lance?”
    He looked into his tea. His ears were red. “There’s going to be testing. The air will be tested, to see if it’s safe.”
    “Because of your accident at the plant?”
    “It’s more because of complaints from the community.”
    Ella had signed the letter, while telling Tom that she sincerely doubted that a letter from a few farmers and their wives was going to change anything. She was having as much trouble imagining it now, but where else could the complaints Lance was talking about have come from?
    “Who will be doing it? The testing. You people?”
    “Someone else. His name is Dr. Hemmel.”
    “Who is he?”
    “An independent expert, a scientist from a university down east. He’s an expert in industrial fogs and acid in rain.”
    “When will this happen?”
    “Sometime next week.”
    Everything Ella could think to say was critical. The tests would be faked or fixed. They would not lead to the closure of the plant no matter how bad the results were. Lance had probably come here imagining the news would fill her with delight—and that the delight would spill over onto him.
    “You’ll hear this again, officially,” he said. “I just wanted to tell you as soon as possible.”
    “I wish Tom was here. He would have questions. How does a scientist test air?”
    “He’ll bring vacuum bottles, bottles with the air sucked out. When he’s in a place he wants to test, he breaks the vacuum and lets the bottle fill.”
    “And will he test our farm?”
    “I’m sure of it. Probably right here in your yard.”
    She took slow breaths. She got up and put scones on a plate, brought butter and a pot of jam. As he scooped both onto the scone, it occurred to her that he must not be eating properly.
    “If you were in our shoes, would you trust these tests?”
    “I’d trust Dr. Hemmel. I mean I do trust him. I phoned one of my professors in Edmonton when I heard. He couldn’t believe Dr. Hemmel was coming here. He said he’s a world authority.”
    “And is Aladdin paying him?”
    “I’m not sure. Aladdin or the government. Or both.” After a moment, Lance spoke again. “I know how that sounds but I doubt a man of his standing would risk his reputation to please an oil company—or a government, for that matter.”
    It was time to get him out of her kitchen. She did not want him here when Tom came home for lunch. But she had another question.
    “Why are you excited about this? What if they find the gas is bad and shut your plant down?”
    “I want things to be safe. If it isn’t, we should shut down. Like you