Authors: Gail Bowen
I put my nose next to her mouth and inhaled deeply. “You’re right,” I said. “There’s a definite fragrance of princess.”
Her face lit up. “A joke,” she said. She climbed into bed and was asleep before her head hit the pillow.
Mieka and I exchanged glances. “They’re both down for the count,” I said. “Why don’t you go back and get your dessert?”
Mieka shook her head. “No, I think I’ll stay here with my old mother and absorb her wisdom.”
We went back to the living room, and Mieka stretched out on one of the tartan-covered mom-and-pop chairs by the fireplace. I sat in the chair next to hers, and Willie flopped down beside me. “So what do you want to talk about?” I asked.
“Charlie,” Mieka said.
“I’m afraid I don’t have any expert knowledge there.”
“I wasn’t asking for insight – just advice. Charlie wants to know if he should go back to the city.” She picked at her lip – a sign of anxiety from the time she was three. “I hate seeing Greg and Charlie at each other’s throats, but Charlie needs to be with people this weekend. That’s why I invited him to come to the lake.”
“
You
invited him?”
Mieka frowned. “Did you think he just showed up?”
“No. I just assumed Pete ran into him somewhere, and you know how Pete is about strays.”
“Well, you were partly right. Charlie is kind of lost at the moment.” She hugged her knees to herself. “Mum, did it never occur to Howard that by blabbing about Charlie’s childhood, he was destroying the image Charlie worked his whole life to create.”
“The publicity didn’t hurt Charlie’s career,” I said. “There was an article in the paper a couple of weeks ago saying the ratings for Charlie’s new show have gone through the roof.”
Mieka’s laugh was bitter. “So this was a good career move for Charlie. Is that what you’re saying? Mum, take a giant step back. You had a rotten childhood. Would you like the whole world to know that you’re still trying to get over it?”
I shook my head. “No.”
“Then don’t minimize what Howard did to Charlie. I was there, and I remember. Charlie and Pete and I logged a lot of time in drafty halls when Howard was premier and Daddy was Attorney General.”
“Did you hate it?”
Mieka smiled. “No. For Pete and me, it was a lot of fun. No supervision. Awesome food. Remember those peanut butter squares with the coloured marshmallows? And those teeny tiny rolled sandwiches at the teas? I always meant to ask you how you got the bread so flat.”
“We ironed it.”
Mieka chortled. “Oh God, you didn’t.”
“Oh God, we did.” I took her hand. “We have some good memories.”
“Charlie doesn’t,” Mieka said.
“Because of his birthmark.”
“You know how kids are. I was always glad Pete and I were there.”
“As allies.”
“Yeah, as allies. Charlie never needed anybody to fight his battles, but it mattered to him that Pete and I were on his side.”
“Charlie’s mother always said that he didn’t have friends; he had fans …”
“That’s because Charlie’s a danger freak.”
“Look at me. See what I’ve done. Guess what I’m going to do next
.”
Mieka raised an eyebrow. “Pretty much,” she said. Her face darkened, and she fell silent.
“Something wrong?”
She shuddered. “Just one of those flashbacks. Remember that boy Charlie beat up in Fairlight?”
“No,” I said.
Mieka shook her head. “You have to remember that, Mum. The boy was unconscious. They took him away in an ambulance.”
“I remember being in Fairlight waiting for an ambulance,” I said. “It was winter and the roads were terrible. The boy’s parents were frantic. We were all afraid the ambulance wouldn’t get through. But, Mieka, that boy fell down a fire escape.”
“He didn’t fall down a fire escape,” Mieka said. “He and Charlie got into a fight. Pete and I thought Charlie was going to kill him. We tried to pull Charlie off, but he was like an animal. We finally managed to get them apart, but by then the other kid was in really bad shape.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?”
Mieka’s eyes widened. “Weren’t you ever a kid? I was so scared that boy would die. I kept listening to the news and reading the obituaries. Of course, I only knew his first name. It was Vernon.”
“His last name was Harvey. His parents were long-time supporters. And Vernon Harvey didn’t die, Mieka. He grew up and ran against us in the last election.”
Mieka grinned. “Wow, talk about alienating a supporter.”
It was close to 8:30 when the men joined us. Mieka and I had our feet up on the hassocks and were sharing a pot of tea. Pete gave us a withering glance. “Tough life,” he said. “Some of us have been scrubbing pots and pans.”
“Be grateful,” I said. “Good karma.”
“We’ll return the favour tomorrow,” Pete said. He yawned and stretched. “Speaking of which, I’m calling it a day. I’m going fishing at the crack of dawn. Anyone care to join me?”
Charlie shuddered. “Not me. I’m a nocturnal animal.”
“I wouldn’t mind going fishing,” Greg said. He went over and touched Mieka’s shoulder. “Okay with you?”
She looked up at him. “Sure, if you’ll take me for a walk now. There’s a harvest moon, and I have a moon story.”
Greg’s face lit with the delight of a man receiving an unexpected gift. “I’ll get your jacket,” he said.
Charlie appeared about to make his move. I caught his eye and indicated the chair Mieka had just vacated. “Why don’t you and I get caught up? It’s been a while.”
Charlie’s smile was vulpine. “Very subtle, but I’ll play along because I want to talk about the trial.”
“Okay with me,” I said.
Charlie slouched on the chair, legs stretched in front of him, hands clasped behind his neck. “Your boyfriend has to win this one,” he said.
“He’s giving it his best shot,” I said. “He believes in Sam’s case, and he likes him. He likes Glenda too.”
“Glenda is a likeable person,” Charlie said.
“You two know each other?”
“When
Too Much Hope
came out, I got in touch with all of Katherine Morrissey’s subjects. The plan was to get them to come on my show, talk about the book. Counting me, there were thirteen – a baker’s dozen of the misbegotten – about half of them were so fucked by drugs or booze that they couldn’t even comprehend what I was talking about. But some of the others were impressive. I don’t suppose you heard the show the night Olivia Quinn was on.”
“No,” I said. “Now, of course, I wish I had. At the time, the only interest I had in
Too Much Hope
was what it was doing to you and your father.”
“And now you know,” Charlie said.
I touched his arm. “I saw your father today. Charlie, he’s going through hell.”
“A hell of his own making,” Charlie said crisply. “Like all our hells. Now let’s get back to something relevant. Do you want me to send you the tape of the Olivia Quinn interview.”
“Yes,” I said. “I’d like to know how she’s doing.”
“Consider it done,” he said. “Actually, I can send you all the tapes. If you’re going to be covering the Sam Parker trial, you should know what the book did to Katherine’s victims.”
“I agree,” I said. “Context is always useful.”
Charlie raised his arms above his head and looked at his hands thoughtfully. His skin was, in the title of the old song, a whiter shade of pale. “Glenda Parker thought so too,” he said. “She called me the morning after the shooting and volunteered to go on my show that night.”
“That surprises me,” I said. “I just met Glenda for a few minutes today, but she seemed like a person who valued her privacy.”
“She is,” Charlie said. “But she values her father more.” Charlie sat up and swivelled to face me. “She’s an amazing person. The night she came to the studio must have been one of the worst nights of her life. Her private life was suddenly public property, and her family was shattered. But Glenda had a job to do and she did it.”
“What was her job?”
“She wanted people to know that her father was a decent man and a loving father. She talked about the good times she and Sam had together when she was growing up – how proud he was of her when she started swimming competitively. Apparently, he never missed a swim meet.” Charlie’s face hardened. “Of course, as the child of a man who was absent during my entire life, I found that impossible to believe …”
“But Glenda convinced you.”
“Yes, and I’m not easily convinced. Glenda was as close to the edge as anyone I’ve ever interviewed. We had to tape because the network had legal concerns, but it was still a dynamite interview. Glenda talked about how scared she was when she realized that the feeling she was a girl trapped in a boy’s body wasn’t going to go away. She was ten years old. That’s when she started competitive swimming. It was a gutsy act for a kid. Glenda thought that if she was forced to compete publicly with a body that was demonstrably male, she might start to feel like a boy.”
“But it never happened.”
“No. In her words, the knowledge that she was female engulfed her. When she finally faced the fact that the only way she could live her life was as a woman, she went straight to her father.”
“And he was accepting.”
“Yes. It wasn’t easy for him. I guess it wouldn’t be easy for any parent, but he was Sam Parker, the defender of family values. To his credit, Sam didn’t flay Glenda with chapter and verse about moral abominations. According to Glenda, he took her in his arms and he didn’t let go.”
I felt a lump in my throat. “I’d like to hear that interview.”
“My pleasure,” Charlie said. “It’s unedited except for one sentence.”
“Which was?”
“Just before we stopped taping, Glenda said, ‘I’d kill for him too, you know.’ ” Charlie averted his gaze. “Imagine loving your father that much.”
For a few moments, we sat in silence. There didn’t seem to be much to say. I think we were both relieved when my cellphone rang and it was Zack asking where the hell I was. Within seconds, a car stopped outside the Hynd cottage. Charlie leapt to his feet. “Must be the Big Man,” he said.
I went to the window. Zack’s Jaguar was in the driveway. “Good call,” I said.
Charlie joined me and the two of us watched as Zack unfolded his chair, snapped it into position, and swung his body from the driver’s seat onto the seat of his chair. When Zack started up the path to the house, Charlie put his arm around my shoulder. His body was painfully thin. “Mieka told me she was going to ask you if I should leave. What do you think?”
“It’s Thanksgiving,” I said. “People should be with people they love.”
“Thank you,” he said. “That means a lot. Now, I’ll get the rock out of here, and leave you and Zack alone.”
“Stick around long enough to say hello,” I said.
Charlie shrugged. “My pleasure,” he said.
Zack was still wearing the suit he had on at lunch, and he looked exhausted, but his voice was eager. “Ms. Kilbourn, you are a welcome sight.” His gaze shifted to Charlie. “And you’re here,” he said, extending his hand. “I hope you’re staying for the weekend?”
“That’s the plan,” Charlie said.
“Good,” Zack said. “Then we’ll have a chance to talk. Incidentally, that’s a great T-shirt.”
“Glad you approve,” Charlie said.
After he left, Zack looked at me questioningly.
“Mieka invited him,” I said. “I take it you don’t mind.”
“Not at all. Charlie Dowhanuik is a useful person to have around.” Zack glanced around the cottage. “So where is everybody?”
“Well, let’s see. Angus and Leah made it safely to New York. Pete already hit the sack because he wants to go fishing tomorrow. Willie and I are babysitting the little girls till Mieka and Greg get back from their walk in the moonlight. Taylor and Isobel are at our place watching a movie.”
He grinned. “Hey, I like the sound of that ‘our place.’ ”
“And you don’t mind that the girls are staying with us?”
“We said we wanted a big family Thanksgiving. Taylor is family, and Isobel is part of the closest thing I have to a family. I value this, Ms. Kilbourn. When I was driving out here tonight, I was trying to remember what I did last Thanksgiving, and I drew a blank. Then I tried to think of what I’d done other Thanksgivings – more blanks. I don’t care who sleeps where, as long as everybody’s content and you’re with me.”
CHAPTER
4
Zack’s paraplegia affected every area of his life. There were the everyday frustrations of living in a world that often was not accessible; there were times when he was assaulted by muscle spasms or by pain in his shoulders that had simply been performing too many functions for too long. There were complications that arose because the body’s organs and circulatory system are not designed to be locked in a partially paralyzed body. Despite all this, Zack was neither stoic nor bitter. He accepted his deeply flawed body as unquestioningly as he accepted his thousand-megahertz mind. For him it was all part of the package.
I tried to follow his lead, and most of the time I succeeded. But he was the most exciting man I’d ever known and I was deeply in love with him. I wanted the casual intimacies that I’d always taken for granted: strolling hand in hand through the park, a quick, spontaneous embrace, a passionate and unpremeditated kiss. More than anything, I wanted to spend entire nights with him, but that dream had proved elusive. The logistical problems that confronted us were easily solved. The bedrooms in my house were on the second floor, but Zack had an apartment, and Taylor was certainly old enough for sleepovers at the houses of friends. However, she was also old enough to be forming ideas about sexual behaviour, and I wanted to set a good example. My younger daughter was surprisingly open on the subject of what her peers called “hooking up,” and we had some frank discussions about the mechanics of sex. More importantly, we had talked a lot about the hollowness of sex without mutual respect, affection, and commitment. Given the circumstances, I wanted to make certain that the relationship between Zack and me was serious before we were open about sharing a bed. By Thanksgiving, we knew, and we had arranged the sleeping arrangements accordingly.
The week had been a full one, and Zack and I were both exhausted. As I slid across the cool sheets and embraced him, it was clear that a deep and serious kiss was going to be the extent of our lovemaking. But some time in the small hours I had awakened, aware of Zack’s body warmth and his weight beside me, I drew closer to him and touched my fingers to the side of his neck, feeling the pulse, listening to the rhythm of his breathing, inhaling the scent of his skin. It was a comfort to feel his body beside me, and I was suddenly aware of how much I had missed the solace of lying next to another human being in the darkness. It was good not to be alone, but like the poet Ben Jonson, I knew that love made me vulnerable. Any wound to the man beside me would be a wound to me. The knowledge brought a pang of joy and fear. I moved my head onto Zack’s chest and watched the pale outline of my fingers rise and fall against his skin. I turned my head and kissed his left nipple.
Zack stirred in his sleep. “Am I about to get lucky?” he murmured.
I shifted my position and felt his erection. “I think we both are,” I said.
Our lovemaking was unhurried and incredibly sweet, and after the great headlong rush we luxuriated in the novelty of drifting off, side by side, hands touching, separate but still connected.
I slept deeply, and when Willie nuzzled me awake to take him for his walk, the pattern of light and shadows in the room jolted me with its unfamiliarity. Then I turned my head, saw my beloved, and my pulse slowed. I was exactly where I belonged. Reassured, I slid out of bed, pulled on my sweatshirt and jeans, tied my runners, and Willie and I hit the road.
Lawyers’ Bay is a horseshoe, and Willie and I had run along its beach for an entire summer. In July and August the lake had been alive with the sounds of shorebirds squawking, motorboats roaring, and kids shrieking as they leapt off the high board of the diving tower, but that morning we ran in a silent world. By the time we doubled back, the haunting half-light of dawn filled the sky, and the series of Inukshuk that Taylor, Isobel, and their friend, Gracie Falconer, had painstakingly built along the shoreline were emerging: eerily human, ghostly figures pointing our way home in grey morning light.
When I got back to the cottage, I checked on Taylor and Isobel. They were sleeping the sleep of young women who had eaten pizza, watched
DVDS
, and giggled far into the night. In our room, Zack, who slept five hours a night whether he needed it or not, was propped up in bed, peering through his glasses at the contents of a file folder. When he saw me he placed his file on the nightstand and motioned me over. “Did you two have a good run?”
“We did,” I said, bending to kiss him.
He shuddered. “Cold lips.”
“Cold everything,” I said. “It’s chilly out there.”
Zack held up the covers. “Then get in here with me.” I took off my jeans and slid in close.
“Better?”
“Much,” I said.
Zack rubbed my shoulders. “Do you know what I want to do?” he asked.
I groaned. “If it involves a feat of athleticism, you’re going to have to give me time to catch my breath.”
“No heroics required,” Zack said. “I want to keep doing what we just did. I want to go to bed with you at night, fool around with you in the middle of the night, and wake up with you in the morning.”
“I want that too,” I said.
“Good, because I’ve started looking for a house for us – an accessible house where I can trail around after you to my heart’s content.”
“You want us to move in together?”
“I want us to get married.”
“We’ve only known each other three months.”
His eyes were searching. “You’re not sure about us.”
I met his gaze. “I’m sure,” I said. “I’m just not ready.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “So I’ll keep looking for a house and when you’re ready, we’ll get married and move in.”
“You make it sound so simple.”
“Life is simple. You decide what you want and you go for it.”
“Right now, I want to eat.”
He chuckled. “Go for it.”
I made coffee and porridge, and we took our breakfast into the sunroom so we could watch morning come to the lake. Peter and Greg were down at the dock putting fishing gear into the boat, shrugging on their life jackets.
“Charlie isn’t going fishing?” Zack asked.
“No, and it’s probably just as well. He sets Greg’s teeth on edge.”
“Bad chemistry?” Zack said.
“Bad chemistry exacerbated by bad timing,” I said. “Mieka’s going through a rough patch in her life.”
“I wondered about that. There were times this summer when she had that five-mile stare. So what’s the problem?”
“Do you remember that Peggy Lee song ‘Is That All There Is?’ ”
“Sure.” Zack sang a few bars in the boozy bass of a lounge singer.
I shook my head. “Is there no end to your talents?”
“Give me fifty years and I’ll show you.”
“In fifty years, I’ll be a hundred and six.”
“And I’ll still be crazy about you. But we were talking about Mieka.”
“Right,” I said. “Lately I’ve had the sense she feels the walls are closing in on her. She and Greg have been married since she was twenty-one, and she’s been running her business since she was nineteen. Catering’s not easy – the hours are unpredictable and customers can be fractious. Mieka loves the girls, but according to Greg the business is really taking off, and the company needs to expand. It would be a major commitment for them, and I think Mieka’s wondering if it’s a commitment she wants to make.”
“And while Mieka’s wondering, along comes Charlie.” Zack sprinkled brown sugar on his porridge. “Is it a romance?”
“I don’t think so, but in a way that would be easier to handle. Mieka’s relationship with Charlie goes deeper than sex. When they were kids, she and Pete and Charlie did that blood kin thing – you know, where each kid cuts his finger and they let their blood flow together. I’m sure most children forget all about it, but with those three it seemed to take. They share a history, and last night Charlie was using that history to shut Greg out.”
“Do you want me to see if I can get Charlie to open up?” Zack asked.
“How well do you know him, anyway?”
Zack averted his eyes. “Well enough.”
“It would be good to know how Charlie sees the situation,” I said. “But don’t use your brass knuckles. I have a soft spot for Charlie. You should too. Last night he told me about the interview he did with Glenda just after Sam Parker was arrested.”
“We have a tape of it at the office,” Zack said. “It got Sam a lot of good press at the beginning. Very helpful.”
“That’s because before the take aired, Charlie did a little editing.”
Zack’s spoon stopped in mid-air. “He never mentioned that. What did he take out?”
“According to Charlie, at the end of the interview, Glenda said, ‘I would have killed for him too.’ ”
Zack winced. “Jesus. People are full of surprises, aren’t they? That line of Glenda’s would have made Charlie’s show front-page news.”
“Maybe Charlie knows there’s more to life than ratings,” I said.
“You think he identifies with Glenda?”
“I know he does,” I said. “They’d both had painful childhoods. They were both in the process of making lives for themselves, and they were both betrayed and publicly humiliated.”
Zack sipped his coffee meditatively. “Still, the decision to edit that line could have gone either way. Thank God, Charlie did the right thing.”
“Thank Charlie’s mother too,” I said. “In all the years I knew her, Marnie never knowingly caused another person pain. She had a truly generous spirit – not a moralizing bone in her body.”
“Glenda’s mother, Beverly, is cut from more rigid cloth,” Zack said dryly.
“You’ve met her, then.”
“Sure. She’s the one who hired me. I had to go to Calgary so she could check out the cut of my jib.”
“She interviewed you?”
Zack frowned at the memory. “Not exactly. She tried to convert me.”
“What did you do?”
“I told her my billable rate was $600 an hour, and she was on the clock. It didn’t stop her. She’s a True Believer.”
“She believes in The Rapture,” I said. “I read about it when I was doing research for my book. Legions of the Antichrist on the march. A final showdown in Armageddon. The Second Coming. And of course, the grand finale when the True Believers ascend into heaven, sit on God’s right hand, and watch their enemies suffer the horrors of the damned.”
“Nice précis,” Zack said. “Beverly was more discursive. She went on for about an hour and a half.”
“And you charged her?”
“You bet I did, and now that I’ve seen the way she treats Glenda, I wish I’d billed double.”
“I still remember the Bev Parker of Sam and Bev,” I said. “Her hair was the colour of toffee, and her voice sounded the way good toffee tastes – melting and sweet with a little burn to give it edge.”
“Well, now her hair is – what’s that really blonde blonde?”
“Platinum,” I said.
“Right,” Zack said. “And her voice is hard and very angry.” Zack fell silent, seemingly engrossed in the efforts of a squirrel trying to break into the squirrel-proof bird feeder the girls had put up during the summer. When the squirrel gave up and moved along, Zack turned to me. “You think he’ll find something to eat?” he said.
“Sure. The girls left nine dollars’ worth of sunflower seeds on the ground by that tree where he has his nest.”
“A lot of stuff goes on around here that I don’t know about,” Zack said.
“I’ll start sending a daily update to your BlackBerry.” I picked up the coffee carafe and refilled our cups. “I wonder what happened to turn the Bev I remember into the Beverly you met.”
Zack shrugged. “I’m no expert. The only time Sam and I discussed his wife was over a bottle of Scotch late one night. He is absolutely loyal to her. And he either can’t or won’t talk about what caused her to change. All he told me was that when Judgment Day rolls around, Beverly believes she’ll have a front-row seat to watch her enemies suffer.”
“And it doesn’t trouble her that her only child will be among the sufferers.”
“That doesn’t seem to be a matter of concern.”
He stared at his empty bowl as if seeing it for the first time. “Is there more porridge? This was really good.”
I stood up. “I’ll get it.”
“I can get it,” Zack said. He balanced his bowl on his knees and wheeled towards the kitchen. When he took the pot from the stove, he peered at it with interest. “What’s in this anyway?”
“Oatmeal, of course, but also poppy seeds and dried cranberries. There are supposed to be sunflower seeds in there too, but the girls gave them to your pal, the squirrel.”
He wheeled back into the sunroom and started eating. “Do you think Charlie will be up yet?”
“You want to talk to him?”
“I need to know who he told about that sentence he edited from the tape.”
“My guess is no one, but if you’re anxious, give him a few more hours of sack time before you pay him a visit. Charlie isn’t a morning person.”
“Fair enough,” Zack said. “So what are you up to this morning?”
“I promised Madeleine I’d teach her how to make pancakes. After that, Mieka and I are taking all the girls into Fort Qu’Appelle to the farmers’ market. It’s the last one till next summer.”
Zack looked wistful. “Sounds like fun.”
“You’re welcome to come,” I said.
“I’ve got way too much work.” He covered my hand with his. “It’s not always going to be like this.”
“There’s nothing wrong with this,” I said.
The kitchen in the Hynd cottage caught the early light, and Lena had found a patch of sunshine on the floor in which to test out the bouncing properties of Tupperware. Madeleine was at the table with a whisk and a bowl and when she saw me she waved her whisk in the air. “I broke four eggs,” she said.
“Without getting a single piece of shell in the bowl,” Mieka said approvingly.
“Her mother’s daughter,” I said. “Let me wash my hands, and we’ll get started.”
When I rolled up my sleeves, Mieka glanced at my fingers. “You’re not wearing your wedding ring,” she said quietly.
“It was time to put it away,” I said.
“You and Alex were together three years, and you always wore your ring. You’re with Zack three months and it’s gone.”