The Mystery of Maple Creek

Chapter 1. Coming to Maple Creek

Chapter 1

Coming to Maple Creek

(Perspective: Hellen Mayweather)

When I opened my eyes again, nothing’s changed yet. Not even this little bedroom of mine. I was just daydreaming about the days when I would miss my childhood home. And while listening to a dreamy song like this, I wanted an escape button.

His voice hollered out in the background, finally drew my attention. I immediately unplugged my earbuds and stopped the music player on my phone. And then I got up from bed.

“Yeah, Dad. Coming right up!” I shouted back as I packed everything I needed into my bag.

My dad kept assuring me that we would have a fresh start once we moved. I knew that I only lived here with my grandma, who passed away last summer. But I would still miss my very first home.

But it wasn’t really true. My mom first had me in a faraway town. I was born there in late autumn. Unfortunately, I didn’t recall the memories of staying there when I was little.

Of course, I didn’t remember. It was because I was still a baby when my mom and my dad brought me to grandma. She was my dad’s mother. I would also miss her so much. She took good care of me. I grew up in a nice and warm house with her in the city of Calgary.

And today, we had to move.

During the car trip, we only listened to random songs played on the radio. Until he stole a glance at me for a couple of times. I was just staring blankly at the car window when he pretended to clear his throat.

“Sure, you don’t remember the town,” said my dad, while driving our sedan car. “It’s a long time ago. The place always brings back memories of your mom.”

I saw how he tried to seal his lips every time he mentioned mom. The pain he endured was not easy after all this time, and so did I.

Then I glanced at him and said, “I almost forgot how mom looked like. I was only three-year-old when she died.”

“You’ll see her—soon,” he murmured, and half smiled.

I just had to be a little bit more patient. It took only 4 hours by a car trip to reach the new town anyway.

And when we finally crossed the border, an old wooden board welcomed us in. It said;

WELCOME TO MAPLE CREEK.

EST 1883.

According to a little research that I did, the population here was over 2,000 people. A friendly small town, which located in the Cypress Hills of southwest Saskatchewan, Canada.

But the real reason why we should move here; it simply because my dad needed to open his old business. Living in a big city wasn’t that easy when we ran out of money. Calgary city was a great place, but we can’t afford to stay there for now.

As grandma’s house there was up for sale, we would be staying in Maple Creek. And I would be helping my dad opened his fish market for a while.

“Alright, Hellen, lend me a hand…” he shouted as he took out our suitcases from the car.

I immediately took over my suitcase and walked along with him to the yard.

For a second, I stared up at the old house here. It was the only house seen near the riverside.

“Look at this house,” I muttered.

My dad paused and glanced back at me. “Yeah, you like it? It’s our haven.”

“How long did mom live here?” I asked curiously.

“Since we got married. And you also lived here for two years before you moved to Calgary,” he answered.

I nodded. And then followed him entering this gray rooftop house.

Obviously, nobody took care of this place after being abandoned for a long time. The thick clouds of dust and cobwebs were everywhere. It would be a lot of hard work to make this house alive again.

It took some hours for us both to clean up all the rooms. Until then, it was already three p.m. when we finished.

Once he rubbed his hands sideways to get the dirt off, he asked me, “Hey, I want to look for my fish garage. Do you want to come and see?”

I narrowed my eyebrows for a second. I was confused by what he meant as, “Fish garage? What is that? Is it some kind of a secret bunker where you store all of your catch?”

“Yeah, you know—this is a small town. There’s always a mystery left behind,” he reciprocated my dry sense of humor, and he chuckled a little. “But, no, seriously, I used to invest my keep to catch fresh fish before I sell them in the market.”

I stared bewilderingly at him and said, “Wait, when you first opened your market, did you catch the fish by yourself? Have you given a thought to find an employee?”

“Well, sure, darling. There were a few people in town who helped me out, like Larry for instance. But for now, we can’t afford to pay for an employee,” he reminded me again.

“That’s why, you have me,” I cheered him up. “No worries, dad.”

And soon after, we visited the fish garage which he mentioned. The place was located only a few miles from our house. It was not that far. We even walked there.

It turned out; the garage was established side by side with the fish market which he owned. We already got ourselves in the middle of the friendly town. There were several shops opened across from my dad’s market.

The fish garage was connected to a bridge at the riverside. The afternoon view looked refreshing. I could picture the morning view must feel invigorating as well.

My dad was trying to open a padlock on the door. He had chained the place.

Once we entered, I stared numbly for a second.

“This is not what I was expecting though,” I muttered while looking at the empty garage.

“Yup, I already cleaned up everything, so this place won’t leave a bad smell of the fish fragrance,” he said with much better humor than I did the last time.

There were only some fishing tools and a small boat here. The iceboxes were empty.

And so, I asked curiously, “Well, when will we catch our first fish?”

“Nah, no need for now. I had contacted Larry yesterday. He is willing to help,” my dad looked excited. “He has stored one large box of fish for us. He said, it’s a welcome gift.”

“Oh, great. It’s the perk of having a good friend here, right, dad?” I murmured and smiled.

“Larry Wilder is like my brother. And he is also the best informant in town,” my dad told me. “I will introduce you to him later.”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

And the rest of the afternoon went well. After I helped my dad cleaning up the front store, I spent time alone at the bridge.

I sat at the edge of the wooden bridge, and let my bare foot touched the river water. For a while, I felt the wind curled up on my cheeks. I breathed the air, trying to feel the peaceful sensation.

And in that moment, I knew I would enjoy my time here.