It was a cold day, as he remembered it, sometime between Thanksgiving and Christmas. He had the chains on the wheels because where he was going to a friend’s log cabin for the weekend, there was a risk of ice on the road. When he saw the hitcher up ahead of him, he did not think anything of stopping.
Sven’s dad had been something of a sixties free spirit. Every day he used to hitch a lift from the suburbs into work. Although times had changed, and people did not hitch as much as they used to, Sven would make a point of picking up hitchers in his honour.
The hitcher was a young woman, dressed in hiking clothes. She had long dark hair under her bobble hat. He noticed she was carrying a small backpack. “Do you wanna stick it in the back?” he said.
She slung it onto the back seat and got in beside him.
When he asked her name, she told him:
“Amy.”
Sven had the radio on. They were playing an old Neil Young track. Sven was a big Neil Young fan. He remembered asking the young woman if she was also a fan.
The young woman did not say much, but Sven did not mind.
If he was in a chatty mood, it was partly to keep himself awake, as he had been driving since early in the morning. Honestly, he was looking forward to the log fire that he was waiting for him and perhaps something a little better in terms of a nightcap, which got him thinking about Christmas and the family.
Sven was a history buff. And he began to tell her about his heritage. The Johanssons came over from Scania in Southern Sweden in the 1830s or 1840s, which if you think about it makes sense. Europe was really explosive then. It was the second wave of revolutions. Karl Marx was writing his books, and anarchists were beginning to think their anarchic thoughts. He reckoned that was the reason why the Johanssons left. They wanted a better life – away from the tithes and the taxes of their landlords in Scania. Some of them did not like the land reform of the king – his so-called “Enskifte”. Others said it was a good reform, but maybe the Johanssons did not agree.
Once Sven got going, you see, he could not stop. He began to wax along this theme because he liked thinking about these things. Everyone forgets the importance of history, he said. But you mustn’t forget your roots, your family. That was what Christmas was about, too – remembering your roots, your family.
Sven was tempted to go on and give his theories about enlightened anarchism, but he became self-conscious. His dad was always saying you should try to entertain your visitor, or – as in this case – travelling companion, but you should know when to shut up. This made him laugh, because he did not think his dad always knew when to shut up, but it was a good rule of thumb to shut up when it gets dark, and maybe the guests wanted to go home.
Sven thought it was a good joke, but he did not see Amy laughing.
Come to think of it she did not say much at all. In fact, she barely said anything, though maybe that was because he was talking too much. He thought she might have said something about a step-dad. Something like “he’s got it in for me.” Come to think of it, he did not know whether he heard it right. It might have just been the fact he was talking about his dad. And his dad, you see, there was complications. Even if there were complications, all that was a long time ago, and he didn’t think it mattered anymore. But that got him thinking about his step-mum.
Yes, that’s what he said. He reacted by saying he had a great relationship with his step-mum. Always had, and hoped he always would. That was where he was going now. To drop the presents off. He did not really want to do it. It was a hassle to drive this far. And especially as it got dark. On the other hand, since his dad died, he felt sorry for his step-mum, and especially for those complications. It was another time, you see, another place. But he said they always got on.
His step-mum’s name was Winifreda, but no one called her that. They called her Freda, which sounds an old-fashioned name, but it didn’t make Freda old-fashioned. She was practical, modern – she kept the company books at a time when no woman would have done that. If people said, she cooked the books, it was a lie. There was not a straighter person.
Freda was of German stock. He did not know much about her roots, but he thought her family came from the Palatine. They came to the States with a second wave of immigration in the 1860s. Among them were a lot of Mennonites, but Freda was not a Mennonite. In fact, she was not remotely religious, she did not worship anything, except maybe Dad, which was why he was bringing her the presents. He thought she might be lonely.
“Lonely,” Amy said.
“That’s right,” he said. “Dad has only been gone a year or so.”
“Well,” she said, “he belongs here now.”
Sven was surprised. Because Amy said it in such a way. Like she knew Dad. Yes, that surprised him a lot. But still he surprised himself even more. “My dad was a good man,” he said. You see it almost became hurtful thinking about his dad. And Amy must have sensed it, too, because she said:
“I always thought Frank was such a nice guy.”
They were silent for a while, just listening to the radio (it was no more Neil Young but Waylon Jennings), when Sven pulled over. “If you will excuse me,” he said. “Nature calls.”
Sven got out of the car and unbuttoned his flies.
The forest was all around, and it was getting late in the day.
When he got back in the car, the young woman had disappeared.
He got back out of the car and called her name:
“Amy! Amy??!”
Sven was beginning to wonder if he had dreamt the whole episode, when he noticed, on the back seat, her backpack.
When Sven reached the next town, Parkdale; he stopped off at the police station and handed in the backpack.
Later the police got in touch with him.
It turned out the backpack belonged to a young woman who had gone missing the previous Christmas.