The Emily Taylor Mystery Bundle

by Catherine Astolfo

  Not only was he impressed, he felt almost like a member of the staff. He was even able to provide Emily with some legal advice now and then, which gave him a greater sense of belonging.

  Gradually, he began to notice that Burchill Public School had made him forget Toronto more thoroughly than even the village had.

  In addition, as he went through the various problems with Emily and May and eventually some of the other teachers, he began to understand the complexities of human nature more thoroughly. And that understanding was a corner piece in his eventual forgiveness of himself and Laura.

  In Jacob's second year on the school council, Kristen George became the teacher representative. At first, he was overwhelmed and tongue tied by her beauty. Every time he looked at her, the feeling that rushed through him made him feel as though he had just been unfaithful to Laura. Thus he allowed the austere, cool lawyer's façade to create a distance between him and the young teacher. However, she appeared to take no notice.

  Kristen George was not only beautiful but also had the kind of personality that allowed no one to feel distant. She was smart, warm, funny, outgoing and energetic. It seemed to Jacob that she exuded the kind of magnetism that great leaders have.

  Certainly no one at the school council table was immune to her charms. She could talk the parents into giving almost anything to the school. She always had her facts straight, but she was also extremely persuasive. The school council began fund-raising for more projects than ever before. More volunteers were recruited to run programs, assist teachers and carry out tasks that the staff hadn't time for.

  Jacob found himself mesmerized by her style and her charisma. She never appeared to center him out, but slowly he realized that they were spending more and more time talking between the two of them. During breaks or before and after the meetings, often it was Jacob and Kristen discussing something over coffee or cookies or just leaning on the table, philosophizing.

  They had so much in common. Their political views, their theories on education, their spiritual sentiments, their approach to life in general—their opinions were either complementary or captivatingly different. Thus their discussions were embarrassingly deep, at least when within earshot of the others.

  Jacob was aware that Emily and May and the other parent members of the council had noticed the developing relationship, but he was still too guilty to be able to take a step forward.

  In the end, Kristen did it for him. One evening, when the council ended much earlier than usual, she asked Jacob if he had time to go out for coffee rather than drink the leftovers from the meeting. He couldn't resist her lively invitation.

  He gave Helen and the kids a quick call. Both Adrienne and Jordan bid him cheery good nights and Helen sounded pleased that he was going out to have some fun.

  They went to the Main Street Station Pub, an establishment that Jacob had not yet visited. The frontage was rubble stone and stucco, a tall, thin building squeezed between others similar in style. Inside, the atmosphere was jovial and warm. Conversation, laughter and music bounced off the wooden tables, chairs and walls.

  "Thursdays are nacho night," Kristen told him. "Emily treats the staff to an evening here at least three times a year. And a group of us comes on other nights too just to hear the music. They have live groups every weekend."

  She waved at the owner. Barry Mills was tall, slightly overweight, a ruddy complexion and the perfect personality to successfully run a pub. Kristen drew Jacob to a table for two near the window.

  When they sat down, Jacob said, "Do we have to stick to coffee? I sure could go for nachos and it would be a sin to drink anything but beer with those."

  Her light-brown skin glowed in the soft luminosity of the pub and her teeth flashed as her full lips opened in a hearty laugh.

  "I totally agree," she returned.

  When the server came over to their table, Kristen introduced them.

  "Kathy, this is Jacob Finch. He's May's lawyer. Jacob, this is Kathy Mills. She and her husband, Barry, own this place."

  Kathy Mills, a plump redhead with huge brown eyes and a nose spattered with freckles, gave him a wide smile. She could have been her husband's sister, perhaps proving that the longer you stay married, the more you began to look alike.

  "I'd heard about your arrival in town," she said. "Of course everybody knows everything around Burchill! I'm so glad you finally came to the pub."

  "Me too," Jacob said. "With two little kids, it's not easy to get out, but I'm happy to be here at last. Great place you have."

  "Thanks. It's a hell of a lot of work, but at least we are doing it together. And we love the people, that's for sure."

  She waved toward the kitchen.

  "I'm usually in the kitchen all night, but I thought I'd come out and meet you before I went back to finish off the nacho platters. Is that what you're interested in?"

  "Absolutely," Kristen chimed back. "I've already told Jacob how great they are. And beer, of course, goes perfectly with them."

  "Barry will pour the libation and I'll be back with the nachos."

  Kathy put her hand out to Jacob. "Nice to meet you, Jacob."

  It was a friendly, casual beginning to an evening of remarkable conversation, delicious food and relaxing drinks. In the course of three hours, Jacob and Kristen explored the gamut of their interests, as they had done over several school council meetings, but more deeply, aided by the anonymity of background noise that had no curiosity about the couple in the corner.

  Jacob found that his initial physical attraction to this woman was only enhanced by her wit, her insights, her openness to the world at large. She was informed, intelligent and enthusiastic about life in general.

  Over the years in mourning Laura and in his grief over how she died, he had forgotten that a relationship could be so nurturing, so infused with synergy. He felt the energy between them giving him back his natural optimism, his hope and faith.

  Although later he was to say that he fell in love with Kristen on that first date in the Main Street Station Pub, he didn't admit it then. For at that point in time, love still meant risk and hurt and disappointment. It was to be many dates later before he began to consider that a newer, more mature, deeper intimacy could really be his.

  It was also many dates later before he was able to tell Kristen the details about Laura.

  Chapter 25: Alain

  At first, Alain simply could not bring himself to tell May about the rage and insanity that struck his subconscious through his nightmares. It had taken a huge effort to recount his past to her, but even that ordeal was easier than this one.

  In relating the story of his youth, he felt as though he were telling a tale that had been well rehearsed, one that he'd been told, almost as if he were talking about someone else.

  Here, in the sweat and terror of the night, Alain was unable to create any distance. He was in the middle of this. He was the monster, the source of rage and anger. He was someone who could actually delight in beating another human being to death. He wasn't able to say, here's the story of a young boy who would take out his anger on innocent animals but who has turned his life around and made something of himself.

  Instead, he had to admit that here was a man who had such intense hatred living inside the cells of his brain that no one could predict what he might do. Mr. Hyde was taking control at night and there was nothing Dr. Jekyll could do about it. The vampire was restless. Who knew when he might break into the dawn?

  Alain began sitting up in a chair at night, afraid to remain beside his beloved wife during the full onslaught of the nightmares. He already knew that the shouting, the verbal anger, had broken through.

  What would happen if he awoke with his fists pounding into her beautiful, loving face, covering her huge brown eyes and smiling lips with the red of her blood, exposing the white of her bone, all the while laughing as he did so? The terror of this possibility kept him awake, tears streaming down his face, horrified at what felt like a tumour in hi
s brain. A tumour that was growing and becoming a fixture in his life. Was becoming him.

  After two—or was it three?—weeks of very little sleep, Alain was physically and emotionally exhausted. He suffered several migraines, spending long agonizing hours in bed during the middle of the day.

  Luckily, he knew the station could survive without him these days. He'd hired good, loyal help and in reality, he knew that he wasn't working because he needed the money.

  But the days in bed were debilitating for a man who prided himself on his physical prowess and his strength of character. To Alain, his weakness meant that he was succumbing to the evil within. All the years of fighting his demons and winning were for naught. He was going to be overwhelmed by the monster. And all the good man that he thought he'd become could do was weep.

  One afternoon, May came home early from school and found him in the living room, tightly wound up in a blanket, sweat pouring down his face while shivers wracked his body. She convinced him to go with her to see Doc Murphy.

  Doctor Ronald Murphy was the quintessential small-town doctor in appearance and manner, yet highly educated and up to date with every new technique and philosophy. He lived on Brock Street, his office attached to his house, though he regularly performed other duties at the hospital in Ottawa. With his skills and intelligence, he could easily have had a much more lucrative practice in a city, but Doc, his wife Maire and their two sons were very happy with life in Burchill.

  May and Alain arrived at the doctor's office, Alain dishevelled and trembling, his eyes great black circles, his cheeks puffy and tear tracked.

  Maire met them at the door and hustled them straight into her husband's private office, bypassing the rather full waiting room.

  Doc's wife was a tall, large-boned woman with sparkling eyes and a kind, warm manner that evoked her traditional Irish heritage. She was obviously shocked at Alain's appearance, but she translated those feelings into mothering him, bringing him tea and a plate of treats before she disappeared to alert Ron.

  May was grateful to see that Alain, despite shaky hands, wrapped his fingers around the hot tea and sipped, even nibbling on a homemade chocolate chip cookie.

  It was a fairly long wait, which May did not mind, because she knew that at last Alain was in safe hands. Something was going to be done.

  Alain was beginning to relax because he had been forced to take action. He had to admit both to his wife and to a health care professional that he was unable to handle his problem.

  The fact that the health care professional was also a good friend and neighbour, with the sensibility that people who've lived their lives in a small town have, made them both feel better.

  When Doc finally opened his office door, he lit up the room like a whiff of oxygen, a father figure who exuded affection and respect.

  "I'm sorry to keep you two waiting so long," he said. "I wanted to get through my patients out there so we could spend some uninterrupted time."

  He slid into his leather chair and leaned toward them, his hands folded, at once professional and supportive.

  "Okay, Alain, you look like shit, so tell me what's going on."

  Alain couldn't help but smile.

  "You have a real way with words, Doc," he replied.

  May's stress level plummeted for a moment in the glow of his returning sense of humour, only to rise again at Alain's next words.

  "Some of this I haven't even told May."

  He grasped her hand and, frightened by the weighted tone of his voice, she was unable to stop the tears silently coursing down her face.

  Without appearing to look at her, his gaze solidly on Alain, Doc handed her a tissue.

  Alain took a deep breath and told them the details of his dreams: the viciousness, his elation, the terror of his hidden Mr. Hyde that kept him awake all night.

  When he was finished, he began to sob, his shoulders hunched and his grief such that, as May rose to cuddle him, he went limp against her.

  Doc Murphy opened a locked cabinet door and came back with a filled dropper, which he handed to Alain.

  "Take this," he urged gently.

  Obediently Alain swallowed the medication, shuddered and was able to breathe normally after a few moments.

  May sat next to him again, her hand in his, her eyes on his face, as though looking for signs that he had come back to her.

  "Well, first of all, Alain," Doc said, his voice calm and reassuring, "you aren't a monster. Monsters—psychopaths or sociopaths, whichever label you want—don't feel any true regret or worry or guilt, let alone the grief that you are suffering."

  It was the best thing he could have said to Alain, May thought, marvelling at the doctor's insight. In one sentence, he had dispelled some of the terror that her husband had suffered since being wrongly diagnosed many years previously.

  "Tell me a little about your past, Alain," Doc continued. "Tell me why you've always thought you had a Mr. Hyde inside you."

  Alain was gradually relaxing, responding to the sedative effects of the medication. His words were slower but coherent. He continued to cling fiercely to May's hand.

  "To be perfectly honest, Doc, the first real memory I have is of the group home I lived in when I was about thirteen. It's as though I blocked out the rest, as if I were born thirteen. I remember the foster home vividly. It was an older place and seemed to have kids coming in and out all the time. Often there were about ten of us, with a couple who watched us during the day and another couple who came in at night. I felt such a disconnect, from everyone and everything. I used to think I was an alien who had just landed."

  Alain gave a mirthless laugh.

  "Maybe I was. I also remember how very angry I felt. I wanted to pound everyone who crossed me. I did a lot of rotten things, both to the other kids and to animals. Next thing I knew, I was in another foster home and then another and another. Sometimes I'm sure they really wanted to get through to me, but their kindness and attention would just make me angrier. I'd make sure I made them regret their trust or generosity. Most of the time, after the first bad thing I did, they'd get rid of me."

  "I do remember one couple. He was called Alex. Her name was Sara. He tried so hard. He kept telling me that I wouldn't be pushing him away. That he'd always be there for me. But when I almost burned down their house…well, that was a little more than he expected."

  May watched Doc's face, but if he was shocked by these revelations, he was a master at hiding it.

  As though reading her mind, the doctor said, "Alain, I realize that your behaviour sounds shocking. But that all depends upon what happened to you before you were thirteen. Have you ever tried to find out?"

  Alain shook his head.

  "To be honest, all I did was run away from everything. After I tried to burn Alex and Sara's house, they sent me to an institution for a while, where I had psychotherapy. That's when I was told that I was likely a sociopath or maybe even a psychopath. But they never completed the tests, because I ran away. I decided to live my own life. Thank God I met May. I believe she saved me."

  Doc Murphy was silent for a moment.

  "So what has brought the past back to you?" he wondered aloud. "There must have been a trigger. Something so shocking to your subconscious that it even shook the pre-thirteen memories loose. From what you've told me of your nightmares, I believe you are remembering bits and pieces of a violent past. One that you cast out of your memory for many years. Something had to have brought it back."

  May interjected here.

  "We've tried to figure out exactly when the nightmares began. They sort of crept up on us. I mean, they started off happening now and then, but gradually became a regular thing. Recently, it's been every night. I was so worried today that I came home from school early."

  "We think they started about four years ago," Alain added.

  Doc raised his eyebrows. "Four years? Took you long enough to deal with them."

  He was gentle in his admonishment, however.

&n
bsp; "It's my typical way—just ignore it and it will go away."

  Alain gave a rueful laugh, which came out strangled in his throat.

  "Well, it ain't goin' away, so let's make a plan to help," Doc said sternly. "No more ignoring."

  He opened the door and called out for his wife.

  "Maire! We're going to need more tea and some coffee for me and something to eat!"

  He paused, obviously leaning out to hear her reply.

  "Please!" he said, sounding contrite.

  Chapter 26: Doro

  The next picture she and Cynthia Denis looked at gave Doro her first shudder of recognition. Little Ithamar was about seven years old.

  Doro felt the fingers of the past run up her spine. Suddenly she saw his hand in hers. A flash of huddling under blankets together. Fear flooded her body as though she had jumped into a cold shower. The emotions flushed her face and provoked her into a standing position.

  "Are you all right?" Cynthia was solicitous and gentle.

  Her tender hand on Doro's shoulder dispelled the nightmare. Doro straightened her back and unravelled her hands, which had unconsciously curled into fists. She tried to give a soft laugh, but it came out as a cough.

  "I'm going to be," Doro whispered. "It's just that…seeing this little boy…"

  She pointed to Ithamar. His thin face and big eyes glued permanently to a book, standing slightly behind his older, scowling brother. In front of the younger boy a stroller contained another bundle of blankets. Ithamar's hands were wrapped tightly around the buggy's handles, as though he was ready to push it out of the way if need be.

  Pastor Rob and Cécile stood slightly separated from their children and each other, both rigid and frowning. Cécile had developed a stoop in her thin shoulders.

  This was one of the few coloured pictures. Doro studied the details intently. The French influence was clear. Elias had dark brown eyes and hair, while Ithamar's looked green and his hair, a very light brown. They were a true mixture of their parents. Cecile's eyes were a light green or perhaps gray. Her hair was darker than her husband's. Janot's eyes were a very deep, penetrating brown. Cécile's hairstyle continued to be hippy length, but the boys had their hair cut into haphazard mops. Preacher Rob sported a more stylish version.