I sat under a huge old maple whose branches were thick and welcoming. The massive leaves formed a shade-giving umbrella over my head. Lounging in my knee-high sports chair, I was comfortable and serene, taking full advantage of being queen for the day, an honoured guest who was not required to participate or help in any way unless I really wanted to. And after the last two months, I wanted nothing more than to watch the town gather up its skirts to play.
Having cancelled the spring concert and postponed my and May's retirement party, I had convinced the picnic committee that it was absolutely essential to go ahead with its plans. The Burchill Community Picnic had been a tradition for at least fifteen years. A great deal of work went on beforehand, including baking, prize gathering, game planning and refreshment making. But the day itself was always smooth, relaxed and filled with laughter. Given what happened in April, the people needed exactly these ingredients.
This little town had had its share of scandals and tragedy. Determined and fierce, the villagers struggled once again to accept the fact that some very disturbed people had been living right in their midst.
At the same time, crises notwithstanding, we were extremely fortunate. We not only had a strong Town Council, brave leaders who enlisted all the help we needed for our recovery, but we also had the Native Council. Infused with spiritual beliefs and traditions that were both soothing and inspirational, the indigenous culture united with the 'new' to create a blend of intellectual and emotional healing that would not likely be possible anywhere else in the country.
As I watched Cate push her sister around in the wheelchair, I thought back to the telephone call requesting Langford's presence at the fire. All of Burchill's volunteer firefighters had been summoned. I remembered the chill that ran through me when he related the devastating facts on his return.
The Sanderson siblings had lost two brothers, two sisters, and both parents. Carly had suffered critical burns to her feet and legs.
I couldn't help but recall the look on Cate's beautiful little face when I told her everything. The wracking sobs, her ongoing struggles with guilt and anguish that had continued over the last two and a half months.
But today Cate was relatively happy. Thrilled to have Carly around for the day, who, though unable to walk, was in fairly good spirits, thankful for the fresh air and attention.
The little girl had lost both her feet. She was recently moved from the hospital to a nearby rehabilitation centre, where she would learn how to deal with prosthetics. But soon, with luck, she would be home with us so we could journey that road together.
Angel, who had made it her mission to be with her new 'sister' every minute of the day and night, pranced along at Cate's side.
Off to my right, in the green expanse of grass, I could see May as she helped with the kids' games.
Three-legged races were going on right now with squealing and laughter arising as the children hopped to the finish line. Among the heads, I saw three red-haired ones. Meghan and Trevor, surrounded by others, took joyful part in the proceedings. Benjaman, however, was right at May's side, as he had been for about ten weeks now, afraid to let her out of his sight.
With spiky hair standing up on end, an excited Renae directed the children toward the finish line, her face alight with encouragement. It was largely Renae's guidance and support that had led us forward in such positive ways.
Langford, sweat pouring down his face despite the shade provided by a huge oak tree, slaved over the gigantic BBQ to the left of me.
Alain, Teddy Lavalle and several others also helped flip burgers and dogs, slip them into buns and place them into the waiting hands of the patient picnickers.
Neighbours—brown, white, young, old—embraced one another, laughed together, slipped arms around each other, healed one another.
In the crowd I spotted Doc and Maire Murphy and many of our teachers both retired and active. Oona in a wheelchair, accompanied by her brother and two or three sisters. Chief Dan Mahdahbee. Barry and Kathy Mills. Marty Michano and his wife. Moe Fournier and several other firefighters. Even Frances's friend Cynthia had come from Brinston with her husband Nic and their daughter Kimmy. It seemed that nearly every family from both Burchill's public school and Native school had brought their kids.
For those most closely affected, it was a tragic end, but a glorious though anxious beginning.
We had all received counselling. All of us…because the Reneaux and the Taylors have suddenly become parents. At least for now. Hopefully, for always.
Following the disaster at the Norvale Church of Leviticus, Renae persuaded the Children's Aid Society to place Catherine temporarily with us and Carly too when she was well enough to be discharged permanently from the hospital. Trevor, Benjaman and Meghan were living with May and Alain. As time went by, the arrangement appeared to be the best possible solution for everyone.
Long ago, before Langford was arrested and incarcerated, we had planned for lots of children. A subsequent accident and stress had robbed us both of the chance to have our own baby. His time in prison denied us adoption.
Now, all of that had changed. The past was about to infuse the future with hope, but that would be another story.
Similarly, in response to Alain's troubled past, his loss of memory and his nightmares, he had vowed never to become a father. May, the strength of her love for him sustaining her, had agreed to a childless marriage.
Our stories were very different, but the end result had been the same. Four people who loved children had learned to live in homes devoid of younger voices. But now we were bursting with potential.
Of course life had not been easy these last few weeks. We have had many moments of trauma, temper, emotion and discomfort. Given the circumstances, I thought we handled each situation with love, good humour and insight, though not always as patiently or perfectly as we might have liked.
I could no longer imagine waking up without Cate's long legs appearing through the railings as she and Angel clumped down the stairs in the morning, or being without her at night in front of the television, her slim body cuddled up to mine for both warmth and comfort. I was already used to the sound of her voice, as the song said. She had become part of us, of our family, ingrained in our skin.
I tried not to think of the next few months and the process we would all have to undergo in order to make the situation permanent. I tried very hard not to imagine what everyone would do when they found out who Langford Taylor really was. But I was willing to plough through anything in order to have Cate and Carly in our circle of love.
Luck, destiny, fate, whatever gods were on our side, provided the way. Through Oona and the gold mine, for which May recently received the first million, we would hire the best legal minds that Jacob Finch could find for us. Even in the heat of this June day, I shivered at the thought of the future.
As though reading my mind, Jacob plopped down on the grass beside me. He was relaxed and tanned already. His face and eyes were clear of the sorrow of the past as he watched his children and fiancée eagerly participate in the festivities.
I reached out and squeezed his hand. It was amazing how much we had in common, I thought.
"What's your prognosis for the future, Dear Legal Beagle?" I asked him. "Do you think all we Burchillians are going to survive?"
Jacob squeezed back. "Oh most definitely," he answered. "I have never seen anything like this. Growing up in cities makes you quite cynical. There are so many tragedies in a city that you stop even paying much attention. Here, though, everyone is touched by it, so we all get together to help, to support, to mourn. It's amazing to me. So yes, Burchillians will be absolutely fine, probably better than fine. I can see something positive…hugely positive…that's come out of all the tragedies of the past. Including this one."
He smiled up at me. "Don't worry, Emily, you'll get to keep them."
I returned the smile, but withheld a small part of me. Jacob didn't yet know about my husband. In time, he would be brought
into the picture and then I wondered what he would say.
"What do you think of the session we've arranged with Agnes tonight?"
"I think it's incredible," he said enthusiastically. "I've never been at a formal Native ceremony since I got here and I'm really looking forward to it. I'm amazed at how cohesive the community is. I'm so proud to be a Burchillian. This move was the best thing I could ever have done."
I watched his eyes scan fondly over Kristen, who led Jordan through the children's obstacle course, and Adrienne, who skipped over the field with a group of friends.
"How do some people do such wonderful things while others are so evil?" I asked him, speculating out loud. "When I think of Alain, I am astounded that he has become this incredible man without any support while he was a child. At least Frances had Candace, but it seems that he had no one. Why didn't he become an Aaron or an Isaac?"
Jacob gave his answer immediately, as though he had already pondered the question. "My theory is that somewhere along the line, somebody really loved him. I'm not just talking about Alain, but lots of children in abusive situations. Somehow they learned true acceptance and love, while others never did."
"I've read and reread the accounts about the Janots. I've come to the conclusion that Robert and Cécile started out as a loving couple who also cared about their children. I'm not exactly sure what happened to him, but it must have been the weight of the fraud charges and perhaps the relentless pursuit by Isaac Rondeau."
"Both Dorothy, Martin Sanderson and Rondeau seemed to idolize him, but their perception of his destiny was mixed up with a lust for power. They wanted him to be the kind of 'saviour' that some of the prophets in the Old Testament envisioned. A king, a dictator, someone who would exert his power over everyone else and force them to do his will."
"First they thought he would be the Anointed One and when he wasn't, when he fell apart in the face of criticism, they decided to try and bully him into becoming mean. I think Izzy was the one who vandalized the church and maybe beat Robert up too. As for what made those two monsters, I'd just guess they were brainwashed by their parents. They never knew love of anything except control. The combination of Dorothy Martin and Isaac Rondeau was lethal."
"I've asked a contact of mine in Brinston about Rondeau's recent confessions, so I'm not just conjecturing. He's revealed a great deal, some of it through his so-called preaching to the inmates and jailors alike. Dorothy was the planner, but Isaac was definitely the executioner."
"According to him, they eventually wore Janot down and convinced his weakened mind that his wife and children were spawns of the devil that had to be eliminated in order to save the world. Rondeau swears he didn't kill the baby though. In his ravings, he says that although he was destined to be the avenger for the Anointed One, he was not to remove Janot's duty. There's no doubt that Robert took his two sons with him when they put Faith in the well, but how she died is a mystery."
"As for Cécile, I have a theory that she might have been the victim of postpartum depression. Dorothy Sanderson claims that Cécile was the one who killed Faith and perhaps she did. I know more than most what that disease can cause people to do. We'll never really know the entire story, however."
"Where did Carl Sanderson figure in all this?"
"That's even more odd or complicated. He began as Janot's protégé, a true believer. When he hooked up with Dorothy, he was very nearly coerced to the fanatical side. I do believe he loved his children, in his strict and obsessed way. I think that's the only explanation about why their kids are so good and capable of loving. Dorothy must have been somewhat kind too, but only because she was focused on Aaron. She originally believed that Carl would take over Janot's place, but later she became convinced that her son was the Anointed One. She was truly insane, in my estimation."
"She was abused and tortured as a child, taught to believe in a fanatical religion and a vengeful God. I think she caused the insanity of her own boy in turn. Maybe without Deacon Rondeau, she wouldn't have gone so far over the edge, but they were together their whole lives. They truly thought it was their mission to find and nurture the world's saviour. They held that it was their duty to exact punishment on unbelievers and those who opposed them, especially in order to protect the Anointed One."
"Do you think Carl Sanderson ever hurt the children? Meghan told her friend Sydney that he did."
"I'm not sure about that," Jacob answered. "He was certainly capable of dealing out some pretty harsh punishment and maybe some of it was physical. Or maybe it was her brother all along and she was covering for him by blaming her severe father. Meghan still has a lot of baggage to work through. But of course you know that. All the kids have a lot to face."
"Who do you believe killed the Janot family?"
Jacob was silent for a beat or two.
"It's not just a belief. I know who did. Alain saw it clearly in his hypnotic memory. It was Elias. I think he was desperate. He truly believed that his father was going to kill them all, so he murdered his parents, set the house on fire and saved his siblings. Maybe he couldn't live with himself after he did it, so he committed suicide by going back inside. No one will ever be certain on that last point. In a way, he was a hero, even though he used a twisted, evil method to rescue Frances and Alain. Frances has remembered that Elias had become morose and depressed before the fire. He was probably driven to murder because he couldn't think of any other way out."
"That's so sad. The poor thing was just a child."
"He was and even though he committed murder, I can't help but be grateful to him for giving us Alain and Frances."
My eyes filled with tears. Even though I was more relaxed today than I had been for a while, I realized that I still struggled with strong emotions. I couldn't even imagine what Alain, Frances and the children had been feeling.
"I know that both Frances and Alain have wondered what kind of legacy they would be passing on to their children, but I like what you said, Jacob. At some point in their lives, they were truly loved and that's what they've given us and that's what they'll give their children. They're doing it now."
Jacob nodded his head. He couldn't look at me and I realized that he too had been dealing with enormous burdens. Once again, I was deeply grateful that we had each other for support.
"Okay, enough of this," I told him, grabbing his arm and pulling both of us to our feet. "Let's go and join the others."
Chapter 60: The Beginning
By the time the day began its final journey, we were completely exhausted. We were sun kissed, tired from the fresh air and excitement, satiated on such delicacies as hot dogs or candy floss or beaver tails with cinnamon.
Seated on chairs or stretched out on blankets in an enormous horseshoe, the people were fairly quiet for so many. The hush became even greater as the bonfire began to glow.
The Native Elders silently built the dry wood and sweet pine inside the stone embankment, creating a soft luminosity and soothing, fragrant puffs of smoke.
Agnes Lake sat on a small makeshift dais, just at the opening of the horseshoe, where everyone could see her. She was dressed in a long, flowing gown that had been lovingly stitched with coloured yarn into simple elegant decorations and shapes. Her silver hair was plaited and curled around her head like a bird's nest.
Behind Agnes stood a covered structure, fairly short and squat, that was unloaded from Chief Dan Mahdahbee's truck. Though I wondered briefly about it, I was too overwhelmed by the gathering before me to give it much thought.
Langford by my side, Cate and Carly tucked in close to both of us, I gazed fondly on my dear friends.
Frances, her little baby mound elegant with promise, sat in the umbrella of Edgar's arm. They whispered animatedly to one another, smiling. From all the way across the circle, their love sent a rustle along my skin that raised goose bumps. The traumatic events of the last few months only served to strengthen their bond as they awaited their child's arrival.
Right beside Franc
es, Alain looked happy, proud and protective, not only of his new sister, but of his recent family as well. May and Alain always exuded intimacy and symbiosis, but now their circle had widened and completely embraced the three children at their feet.
Responding to consistent care and attention, Meghan had blossomed a little. She spoke more loudly and more often all the time. Benjaman, his whole world and sense of security shaken and destroyed, was just building trust again. He was glued right to May's hip. Yet there was a small light in his eyes, a glimmer of hope for the future. Trevor was quiet, but he seemed to be coping fairly well, though the loss of his twin caused him to disappear now and then into a cloud of mourning.
May's Aunt Oona departed some time ago. Her health problems prohibited her from being able to sustain a lengthy day like this one. Almost a replacement, Cynthia Denis leaned over and chatted with May, making her smile, their body language indicative of a bond forged through shared stories. Nicolas and Kimmy Denis were crossed-legged on a blanket in front of Cynthia's chair, their gazes fixed on the Native preparations for ceremony.
Jacob and Kristen sat with Adrienne and Jordan on their respective laps, arms encircling the children with love, their obvious delight in one another spilling over to create the security and safety that these little ones craved.
Helen, her beautiful broad face alight with satisfaction and pride, sat beside them, though right now her eyes were set in anticipation upon her Aunt Agnes.
I was overwhelmed by the sensation that a tide of love had swept over us all. Tears brimmed in the corner of my eyes. I felt a burst of inspiration, expectation and hope.
Just then Chief Dan Mahdahbee began a low beat on the handheld drum, his fingers deft and the sound commanding as the rhythm beat in time with our hearts. After a few moments, Basil Fisher's flute complemented the drumbeat with a haunting melody.
The Emily Taylor Mystery Bundle Page 65
