My Brother's Keeper

It had been one of the coldest winters on record. The spring thaw had begun, turning pastures and barnyards into quagmires, roads into rutted obstacle courses, and good tempers to foul ones. It seemed as though the three of us had been suffering from various colds, coughs and flus for an eternity, and with lambing season fast approaching, there was no end in sight.

Tristan, in particular, appeared wan and withdrawn one morning. His bubbling persona had been replaced by sheer listlessness, not to be confused with his normal, but cheerful, efforts at work avoidance. Siegfried, storming about in a cloud of eucalyptus and Lysol, appeared oblivious to anyone's discomfort but his own.

He came in from outside, stamping and blowing like one of the draft horses he loved so well. “This filthy weather!” He pried off a boot and surveyed his dripping sock. “In a beck, up to my knees, trying to get calcium into that Holstein of Graham's. It's just typical she'd pick the worst possible spot to collapse in. Sheer bloodymindedness.” A coughing spasm seized him. “You know, James, I believe I could have dropped dead beside that cow, and all Graham would want to know is, 'Do I owe owt, seein' as Mr. Farnon didn't finish t'job?'” He pulled off the other boot and flung it behind him, just as Tristan was coming in the door.

Siegfried eyed him suspiciously. “Well?” he barked.

Tristan's eyes were red rimmed and watery. Apparently he'd picked up a fresh cold as well.

“I was out for a walk,” he said, brushing by us and starting up the stairs. The flat tone of his voice alarmed me. Normally, he was more than happy to engage in a little verbal swordplay before breakfast.

I was always reminded of a cat we took in and cared for, named Oscar; Tristan loved cats, and he and Oscar spent quite a bit of time together, stalking and teasing each other mercilessly. Tristan would dangle objects before him and pull them away, or shine a torch along the floorboards and laugh uproariously as Oscar tried to pin the light beam with his paw. Oscar, on the other hand, would lie in wait, behind doors and under furniture, then dash out and give Tristan a nip or a swipe on the ankle before darting out the door again. The two brothers seemed to have the same sort of relationship; they picked at each other, antagonized each other, and generally drove each other mad at every opportunity. Yet there was a genuinely warm and unbreakable bond between them.

Which is why I was uneasy with Tristan's apparent disinterest in everything, including his brother.

“Siegfried, have you noticed anything wrong with Tristan lately?”

“Oh, I imagine he's a bit under the weather, like us all.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You think he's seriously ill? We can't afford to have him laid up, you know. Not that he's a ball of fire to begin with.” He turned and bellowed up the steps.

“Tristan! TRISTAN!” He was seized by a fit of coughing again. Tristan appeared at the head of the stairs.

“Come down here and let's have a look at you.” He pulled his stethoscope out of his pocket.

“Surely you're not going to use that thing on me. I'm not one of your patients, you know,” said Tristan, with a hint of indignation.

“James seems to think you might be unwell. Perhaps we should have the quack next door give you a once over.”

Tristan glanced at me. “That's jolly decent of you, James, but there's nothing wrong with me. Can't a man enjoy a little solitude and reflection, without interference? Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some things to do.” He headed down the passage and into the sitting room.

In Siegfried's universe, opposites were the rule, rather than the exception. His attention was liable to wander, if you could capture it at all; try and avoid him, however, and he clung with the tenacity of a tick. Expect him to do something, and he'd imagine a hundred ways to get out of it; tell him not to do something, and he'd practically break his neck to pursue it.

In fact, his brother operated on the same principles, although watered down, and colored by the determination to wring every bit of humor out of a given situation. That was the element now missing, and I felt very strongly that something was amiss.

Siegfried was also headed down the passage. I only knew of one way to head him off.

“By the way, Siegfried, that racehorse down at Cutting Edge stables...what's the lookout for him?”

My boss's eyes lit up, as I knew they would. “Marvelous horse, incredible speed, not the least bit nervy, you know how rare that is...” He bustled back into the surgery, and riffled through the day book.

“Not much on today, James, now that you mention it, I would like to have another look at that horse, Social Climber, what a cheeky name for him!” He pulled out a jar from the desk drawer. “Wonderful stuff, James, clears the passages. Works miracles on man and beast.” So that's what I'd been smelling the past hour. He was using horse liniment on himself. I shrugged mentally. It certainly had opened my sinuses in a hurry.

Finally, he was ready, bag and pockets brimming with various tools, drugs, and the odd bit of twine and rubber tubing.

“See what you can get out of that brother of mine, will you?” he threw over his shoulder as he left.

Tristan was in the sitting room, idly flipping through the Veterinary Journal. I sat down as well, picking up the newspaper and shaking it out. Tristan jumped nervously.

I put the paper down. “Tristan, if I didn't know better, I'd say you showed all of the signs of distemper, or poisoning of some sort.” My humor fell flat, as it often did. “Look, Tris, we've been friends for a long time. If something's bothering you, or if you're ill, I wish you'd tell me.”

“Well, I'm not at death's door, if that's what you mean.” He sighed. “I'm afraid there is something I need to tell you. It's been haunting me for days, and it's sort of ...paralyzed me, I suppose. It's something that will affect the rest of my life. Our lives, really,” he added.

My mind was racing through any and all possibilities. I felt that dreaded tightening of the chest you feel when you know something is about to happen. I'd last felt it in the minutes leading up to the declaration of war years ago.

“Go on,” I managed, with dry lips.

The doorbell jangled, and I wanted nothing more than to leap out into the hallway, yank that infernal bell down, and hurl it with all my strength the length of the passage.

“That will be for me,” said Tristan, going to the door.

He opened it.

“Tristan!” exclaimed Deidre, throwing her arms around his neck ecstatically.

“Deidre,” he said, hugging her back. She smiled at me over his shoulder.

“James! Oh it is good to see you, too!” She looked around. “It's almost like coming home. I've missed Skeldale, and Darrowby, and the beautiful countryside, and...everything! Canada is so terribly cold, and dark and woodsy. And lonely! There's no one for miles and miles.” Her smile was wide, and she seemed almost wild with delight.

I kept waiting for Calum to appear behind her. Perhaps he was still unloading baggage from the car. Well, Siegfried might be put out about unannounced house guests, but I couldn't see Tristan getting so worked up about the whole thing...unless, they were staying for quite some time. Ah, I knew. Calum had lost his job, and Tristan had invited them to move back here for a while. It would be just the sort of thing that warmhearted Tris would do, and just the thing to set his brother off, at least temporarily.

“So, where's Calum? Dropped off to do a bit of birdwatching along the way?” I asked, looking out the front door.

“You didn't tell him?” she asked, voice quavering.

“I think you'd best come and sit down, Jim,” said Tristan.

Even though it was early, I felt the distinct need for a drink. I poured a finger full of scotch for Tristan, and a sherry for Deidre.

“I'm listening,” I said.

“Where's Siegfried? I do so want to see him. And Helen, dear Helen. How is she, James?” Deidre was obviously uncomfortable. She reached out and took Tristan's hand in hers; he looked surprised, but vaguely pleased as well.

“She's left him,” said Tristan, without preamble.

I felt my jaw drop. “You mean Calum's not with you?” I couldn't make any sense of things. They were married, and happily, we'd thought; making a new life for themselves in Canada. Yet here was Deidre, in our sitting room, cozying up to Tristan just like in the old days, before Calum had arrived. When they had been courting.

I felt as though I were in some sort of bad movie. I took a gulp of my drink, and set it on the table.

“Suppose one of you starts over from the beginning.”

“Deidre!” boomed Siegfried the doorway.

“Siegfried!” She ran to give him a hug, then stopped short, holding her nose and laughing. “You look wonderful, but you're a wee bit pungent.”

“Yes, yes, been trying to shake off this chest congestion. You, my dear, look as beautiful as ever. What a surprise! Tell you what, I'll go and have a bath, then I'll be straight down. Calum's here, I suppose?” He was already walking away, as usual. No one bothered to answer, and he went whistling up the stairs.

“Could you please tell me what's going on?” I felt my normal store of patience running exceedingly low. Of course, it didn't help matters that my wife, Helen ,was in London with Siegfried's wife, Caroline. Helen would have whisked Deidre off into the kitchen for a chat, Tris and I would have had a little friendly banter, and we would all be enjoying ourselves right now.

“I think we'd best wait for Siegfried. How about a quick pint at the Drover's?” said Tristan, standing up and offering his hand to Deidre.

“Oh, I'd love that! We have so much catching up to do,” she said, tucking her hand under his arm.

They returned at lunch time, laughing and chattering. Siegfried gave Deidre the postponed hug and kiss.

“So, tell me, where's that husband of yours? Not out seeing one of our patients, surely!”

“Yes, we're all agog,” I added.

Deidre looked at Tristan. I found it mildly irritating that she seemed to be using him as her spokesperson. I looked at her pointedly.

She met my eyes defiantly, then turned to look at Tristan meltingly.

Siegfried looked at her enquiringly.

She toyed with her fork, then seemed to come to a decision.

“Oooh, I just couldn't stand it. I was so lonely, and Calum is just so, so...” She burst into tears. Both brothers jumped up, responding as usual to a female in distress, making soothing noises and giving awkward pats. I felt my appetite slipping away.

Siegfried sat back down in his chair. “Has he laid a hand on you?' he asked quietly.

“No! Oh no, nothing like that. But he doesn't care for me, he doesn't appreciate me, all he cares about is his work. He probably hasn't even noticed I've left.”

“Good God! You mean you've come all this way without telling him? He must be frantic with worry! He's probably called out the blasted Mounties by now!” Siegfried threw down his napkin and shoved his chair back with a bang. “I'll see if I can get a call through, and a wire as well, although it'll probably take hours. Perhaps the embassy can get through faster.” He slammed his way out the door.

“He's very angry,” said Deidre meekly. “You're not angry with me too, are you Tris?”

“Of course not,” said Tristan kindly. “Don't worry, I'll protect you from my big, bad brother.”

A message was gotten through to the embassy, who contacted the Canadian Fish and Wildlife Commission, who got a message through to Calum. He sent a simply worded telegram: Deidre, Come home. Please. Calum.

“Well, he certainly spared no expense, did he,” was Deidre's only comment.

“You expected him to drop everything and come rushing over here, begging you to come home?” I asked, incredulously. “You've been reading too many novels. Be sensible, Deidre. Any marriage is bound to have it's ups and downs. But you can't pull up stakes and run away every time things aren't

going your way. You and Calum belong together.”

“I'm not sure that we do,” said Deidre, casting a sidelong glance at Tristan. He smiled back.

Unfortunately, Tris reminded me of a big, good natured Lab, expectant and eager to please. He'd once imagined himself in love with Deidre, and it had been a blow when she chose Calum over him. Her attention obviously pleased him. Not only that; he'd been acting strangely before she arrived, and had known it would be her at the door. So he'd known she was on her way here. Had she told him she was coming here as a respite from her marital troubles? Or had she told him she was coming back for him?