The Emily Taylor Mystery Bundle

by Catherine Astolfo

  May did not have to work. Not only did her husband run a successful full-service garage, but she would also share an extremely large fortune with her aunt in the near future. Only three months apart in age, we planned to retire together at the end of this school year. We considered ourselves lucky to be able to retire so young. I because I started teaching at nineteen and took only one year off. She because of her beloved Aunt Oona. We called it 'Freedom 54,' gleeful that we outdid the old advertisement on retirement by one year.

  "What was that all about?" she asked, her eyes still on a report she was completing.

  "Sydney says her best, best friend is being hurt by her daddy," I said and I couldn't help but notice that my voice had a shameful excitement in it.

  I was almost joyful that at last we had something to report, something to do. Fortunately, May understood completely.

  "Maybe we'll be able to help those poor kids at last," she said, looking up at me with her trademark empathy and insight, knowing instantly that I was talking about Meghan Sanderson.

  "Maybe," I agreed, but with less assurance.

  I began to think back to all the ways we'd previously attempted to understand this complex family. The staff had struggled to find a way to get through to the children. When Mrs. Sanderson suddenly became a constant fixture inside the school as a volunteer, we thought this would be our opportunity to get to know the mother better and therefore gain some appreciation of the home situation. We couldn't have been more wrong.

  Chapter 8: Brynstan

  She lay whimpering into the pillow. Wallpaper hung like onionskins over the bed. The odour of a mattress soaked with urine stung the air.

  A tall silent woman slipped through the door. Her hands were cold as she slid the girl out of the bed and pushed her to kneel on the freezing floor.

  Quickly the mattress was flipped and the offending sheets were stuffed in a bag.

  "Mother, I'm scared. I don't want to go to hell," the little girl whispered, her heart hammering as she spoke to the frowning face with the flat, wintry eyes.

  The woman turned and for a moment her daughter glimpsed a flicker of pity in the aloof visage.

  "Then do as the Lord says," she whispered back and left the room as silently as she had entered.

  The little girl repeated over and over in an anxious whisper, "Do as the Lord says."

  Eventually, she crawled back onto the bare mattress and fell asleep.

  Chapter 9: Jacob

  Later, when the house was empty, Jacob thought about the first time he saw Burchill. He was heading back to Toronto from Ottawa, where they'd spent a week with his sister Christine, and Adrienne and Jordan were sound asleep in the back seat. He decided on a whim to take the long scenic route instead of the 401. It was heading toward evening and he was tired and bored. He was not aware of looking for anything in particular, just a distraction during this long ride. But when he crossed the bridge into Burchill, he was suddenly seized with a longing so fierce it sent goose bumps down his arms.

  Even in the gathering darkness, he could see the tree-lined streets, the people walking alongside the canal, the beautiful architecture of historical homes restored and re-loved. As the car rumbled over the bridge, he caught sight of powerful rapids racing adjacent to the canal, bursting into a little waterfall to his right. Judging by the lockmaster's house and the locks, he surmised that the bridge upon which they rode would lift and allow boats to cruise through. Picnic benches dotted the lush green grass alongside the canal and the river, tucked under the arms of huge old trees. In the distance, he had caught a glimpse of dark, calm water, with a white smudge of sand outlining the edges of a lake.

  As Jacob drove slowly through the main street of the town, he saw warm lights splashing out onto the road. Soft laughter and musical hilarity mixed in the quiet of the night. Restaurants, fancy gift shops, artists' workplaces and trendy boutiques mixed with residences, hardware stores and groceries.

  It was obvious that many of the people walking hand in hand up the street were tourists, but they appeared to be the kind that the villagers didn't mind having as guests.

  He passed a museum, an inn and streets that boasted stately homes from a bygone era. Here was the Native influence. The graceful, proud reserve and the stores preserved the Indian roots by showcasing their artistic prowess.

  One of the Native men sitting outside his shop looked up and waved at him. Jacob shyly waved back.

  Just then, he passed the town limits, where a beautiful painted sign stated 'Thank you for visiting Burchill. We hope you return!' He felt suddenly that he had been invited back into life.

  On the highway again, he immediately picked up his cell phone and called his mother in Florida, a ridiculous impulse, but one he'd learned to trust.

  She obviously recognized the number, but instead of saying hello, she immediately asked, "Everything okay?" in a deceptively calm tone.

  He kept his own voice low and hadn't awakened the children, but he found himself telling her that he thought he'd discovered a new place to live. During his description of Burchill, his mother responded with insightful questions that encouraged him to continue.

  When he'd exhausted his tale, she said, "It sounds wonderful to me, honey. I know you've been longing to leave Toronto and I think it's a good idea. But have you thought about what work you'd find in a small town?"

  He certainly had given it thought. Lots of thought.

  Returning from his leave of absence from the legal firm was excruciating. The work had been ably accomplished by others. His being gone barely made a difference. The partners assured him, of course, that he was a centerpiece in the firm. That he was missed by every one of his clients. That everybody was thrilled to have him back.

  But what really hurt and dismayed him was that he could not function properly. His heart wasn't in it. He was no longer ambitious. He couldn't spend the number of hours required to do the work effectively. He was lethargic and uncaring. Toward the clients, he was polite but inarticulate. He couldn't understand the point of certain trivial lawsuits or the client's distress over inconsequential matters. For Jacob, his love of the law and the excitement of complex problem solving had died even before Laura. Now all he wanted to do was spend his hours with his children.

  A succession of babysitters didn't help matters. He constantly had to return home to deal with Jordan's problems. A child psychologist ate up many hours of his time and then simply laid the blame in Jacob's lap. More guilt he didn't need. He was already engulfed by it.

  Adrienne was cheerful, energetic and wise. Only her deep-blue eyes showed any signs of distress, but she refused to speak of it. Jacob found himself sitting at his desk at work, even when things were under control at home, dreaming about quitting time and sobbing in the men's room, overcome with a desire to see the baby or to call Adrienne's school. He was ashamed and afraid to tell anyone that, even after months of therapy and all the best wishes and good intentions and support, he still could not cope. That was when he began dreaming of moving, of being in a small town, of perhaps working at something else, or at least, working less.

  He answered his mother as cryptically as she would allow. "Not really, but I do have enough to live on for a long while if I'm careful and...well, I'm sure small towns need lawyers too."

  He hadn't been certain of that last statement, so he took the advertisement as a sign that Burchill was their destiny. Surprisingly sophisticated for such a small town, the web site for the local newspaper included a link called 'Available Employment.' Jacob was surfing through it without much hope when he came across an ad for a lawyer—'Wanted: a lawyer who would be willing to work exclusively for a small company. Please send résumés to May Reneaux at…' followed by an email address.

  He stared at the words as though he were dreaming. He couldn't have made up a better proposition. When he was finished swallowing in shock, he sent off his résumé. He felt that he'd sent a missive into space that was going to change their lives, dependin
g upon where it landed, but instead of filling him with dread and worry as was his wont, he felt a thrill of excitement.

  A few days later, he received a telephone call from a woman with a pleasant, friendly voice and he made an appointment to see her on a Saturday morning. He took the Friday off and drove to Christine's. After the children were in bed, he and his sister and brother-in-law stayed up late, red wine flowing, and talked.

  Christine sat in the chair to his left, long slim legs tucked under her, a hand resting casually on her husband's knee. David nodded off occasionally, snoring softly as brother and sister continued to discuss life in general and Jacob's life in particular.

  Chris, tall, blond and beautiful, was extremely intelligent and always supportive of her older brother. Their parents had lived the classic tale. They hadn't been able to get pregnant, so they adopted Jacob. A few months later, along came Christine.

  Their parents never referred to the fact that they were not blood siblings. The nine months' difference in their ages was plausible and luckily, their birth dates had allowed them to be one year apart in school. Jacob's serious nature was offset by Christine's joie de vivre and as a result, they had always complemented one another and had been each other's best friend.

  In addition, the dark-haired brother and the blonde-haired sister had both been very popular, so their circles had always intersected. David and Jacob had been very close in secondary school, so Jake was the natural selection for their best man.

  Although he'd met Laura in law school, Christine had immediately made her part of the family as though she'd always been there. Thus, Christine's opinion of his move was crucial to him.

  They discussed the pros. They would be closer to Chris and Dave. He would have more time with the children. They would leave the tragic memories of the Toronto house behind. Adrienne was young enough to adjust to a new school. Jordan was still a baby.

  On the con side, the job might not be suitable. A small town might not have the resources for Jordan's needs. Adrienne would be leaving all that was familiar to her.

  When they'd finished with their list, Christine laughed. "Let's face it, Jakie," she said, raising her wine glass in his direction, "you are going to do it, no matter what the list of the 'cons' looks like. Now let's get some sleep so you can wow them at that interview tomorrow."

  Chapter 10: Alain

  At thirty-two, May was not really looking for a husband. She'd been engaged once to a fellow she'd met when he toured the reserve and who'd pursued her relentlessly afterward. Long before she broke it off with him, she had known they weren't meant to be together. He shared none of her passion for the outdoors and treated her heritage like a Disney film.

  Living apart, he in Ottawa and she in Burchill, had helped to prolong the engagement for three years, during which time May had found that she rather liked having less pressure from her relatives, yet being without the demands of the real boyfriend on the scene. She thought it might've been perfect if only he'd actually been imaginary.

  At one stage May had even questioned her own sexuality, wondering why she more often than not put off his advances and had no drive to see him whatsoever. He had not been her first lover, though he'd never asked. She had been quite free as a young girl to spend hours in the woods and she'd done so with two of the local boys. But even those encounters didn't seem to arouse her nor did they satisfy her in any way.

  May didn't have many female friends either. She'd spent most of her life hunting with her Aunt Oona or helping her parents in their dry cleaning store. Her mother and father had been loving and overindulgent toward their only child, unwittingly causing their daughter to be somewhat of a social pariah. May had always felt to some extent split between two worlds. Her beloved mother wanted her to be 'modern,' refined and educated. Her wish was for May to move out of Burchill into a big city with a big-city job. Aunt Oona, without saying a word, taught May to be an 'old-fashioned' traditional Native simply by her modeling.

  When May was twenty-three, her engagement severed, fate stepped in and made the decisions for her. Her father, Matthew Wabishki, suddenly became very ill with cancer and languished for three months in severe pain before he died. Only a few months after his death, his wife Merci followed him when she had a massive heart attack. May's only regret was it had happened on one of the rare occasions she had spent in the woods since her father had taken ill, so her mother died alone. However, May consoled herself with the thought that Merci, despite the fact that she was relatively young, truly did not want to go on living without her husband.

  May subsequently made some decisive changes. Within a couple of years, she sold her parents' business, including the house attached, where she had grown up. She registered to complete her degree at Ottawa University, where she again changed her mind and completed the Business College Diploma instead. Over those years, she wandered a little further from Burchill, but she was always drawn back for some reason or another, one in particular being her Aunt Oona. When she heard that the school was looking for a secretary, she immediately applied and won the position. She rented a one-bedroom apartment above a fancy tourist shop downtown and was suddenly, unexpectedly, extremely happy.

  She loved the principal, an odd, crusty man whose wicked sense of humour was shared with only a few and she adored the children who came to see her every single day. She had a thousand decisions to make on a regular basis, which challenged her in all the good ways. Her business expertise was not really put to the test, but she discovered that the background made her a very organized, efficient office manager. Safety and frugality were paramount in the school and May handled these easily. For what appeared to be the first time, May enjoyed her life completely. She began to laugh and smile more. She developed good relationships with the staff at the school. She continued to accompany Oona on quiet, relaxing trips into the forest. To May, it seemed that she had, at last, found balance between her two worlds.

  It was this balance that caused her to buy the car. She couldn't really afford a new one. The money left to her by her parents had been long used up for university and college fees. Her school salary wasn't enormous and May was a very frugal person. So she'd gone to Johnny, told him what she could spend and purchased the little red car that he acquired for her.

  Once again, her newfound sense of fun carried her and the little car farther than she'd previously adventured. May discovered that Ottawa was a wonderful place to scour. She visited the Parliament buildings, the judicial courthouses, watched the RCMP Musical Ride and the Snowbirds, took guided tours through the various museums and spent hours in the National Art Gallery. When she was finished with Ottawa, she drove to Toronto several times a year to do much the same there. Each trip taught her that she loved her little town the best. Every time she returned from one of these treks, she went out on a hunt with Oona, just to settle herself in again.

  The voyages did, however, refresh and interest her. As long as she knew she could come home to Burchill. Vacations began to be spent farther away. She flew to Mexico for a hedonistic, sumptuous holiday on a beach when Burchill was labouring under mounds of snow. She traveled to British Columbia through an organized tour by train to revel in the glorious mountains. She explored the east coast of Canada, driving all the way through Montreal, Quebec City and on to Prince Edward Island one lovely, temperate summer.

  All of this travelling she accomplished alone. There were times when she felt lonely, especially during the summer trips when she was gone for more than a month at a time. But they were what she saved for all year long and she made the most of them. Later, she and Alain would say that not only had she sewn her wild oats with these voyages, but she also purposely wore down the little car so that it had to be serviced constantly.

  May loved her little car and refused to trade it in, due to the fact that it was, for all intents and purposes, a new car, considering the myriad of replacements that had been performed over the years. It wasn't until Alain had become highly successful that he
insisted she send it to the car graveyard, maintaining that it was embarrassing for his wife to run around in a wreck. From that time on, May walked everywhere, or drove around in Alain's truck.

  When May and Alain first met, they regarded each other carefully, no hint of the passion that lurked under the surface. Each time May walked away from Johnny's, leaving the little red car with Alain, she tingled with pleasure from the memory of his eyes. They were a smudgy green color, with flecks of brown and gray, a hodgepodge of genes that had no known origin. His face, broad with a long, rounded chin, was always brown and grease streaked. His fingernails bitten and dirty. He smelled of oil and gasoline, but whenever she leaned over the engine and stood close to him, listening to the litany of car problems, she got a hint of fresh soap and musky sweat.

  At night, she found herself dreaming of him, wondering where he'd come from, what he did with himself in the evenings when he wasn't working. She liked the sound of his voice on the telephone, telling her that she could pick her car up or warning her that the price would be steep and didn't she want to consider a new one? His voice was melodious, deep, tinged with a soft French burr, always quiet and soft. He seemed to choose every word carefully, arrange his smile smoothly and consciously, as though it wasn't natural but practiced.

  She began to make it her mission to elicit a laugh, so each time she visited, she told him something funny that a child or a teacher had done at the school, or a ridiculous situation that had occurred. Alain appeared to love the stories and once or twice, a spontaneous chuckle arose from deep inside him as he wiped down the car, or wrote out her bill, or stood twisting a cloth around and around in his big hands.