The Nesting Dolls

by Gail Bowen

  “There’s always a silver lining,” I said.

  My purse was on the telephone table, and I found a five-dollar bill in my wallet. When Taylor came back from seeing Zack, I handed her the money. She gave me a quick hug, and I breathed in the scent of rosemary from the organic shampoo she favoured this month.

  “I told Dad I love him,” she said. “I love you, too, Jo.”

  For the hundredth time, I noticed – and was angry at myself for noticing – that Zack, who had been in Taylor’s life for two years, was “Dad” and that I, who had been in her life for ten years, was still, except for an occasional slip, “Jo.” I knew my daughter loved me as deeply as I loved her, but somewhere deep in Taylor’s psyche, the word mother still meant Sally.

  I took the Christmas card Alwyn had given me from my purse, and looked again at the picture inside the holiday frame. For her entire life Abby had enjoyed a close and loving relationship with the man and woman she believed were her biological parents. Discovering the truth, that her birth mother was a stranger and that her father was a question mark, would have been a shock, but no matter how I looked at it, I could not convince myself that the revelation would have caused Abby to give away her child.

  I was still, as my grandmother would have said, “in a brown study,” when Myra Brokaw called. I had problems of my own, but I sat down and prepared to hear her out. With luck and care, Zack would be his old self in a week or so; Myra’s husband would never recover.

  “I know it’s early,” she said. “But I wanted to plead my case one more time before you made a final decision about Theo’s role in your program about the Supreme Court.”

  “Myra, it’s not my program, and I don’t make the decisions. NationTV decides whether or not a particular show is worth doing, and if they green-light the show, my friend Jill Oziowy produces it. My connection is tangential. The series, such as it is, came out of an idea I had about making some of the institutions that affect our lives more understandable to the general public. I’ve done some research and some writing, but that’s the extent of my involvement. I suggested Justice Brokaw because he was from Saskatchewan, and I’d read in the paper that he was retiring here. I thought explaining the workings of the Court to a lay audience might be an interesting project for both of us, but it was just an idea. Nothing was set in stone.”

  “But it’s a fine idea,” Myra said and her voice was fervent. “The challenge is how best to bring the idea to life. My suggestion that an actor read from Theo’s judgments simply won’t work. For television, you need to involve the eye. And we can do that, Joanne.”

  When I didn’t ask how we could involve the eye, Myra sensed my interest waning and hurried on. “Whenever Theo was interviewed for television, I made certain we got a copy of the tape, so I have all his public utterances, neatly catalogued. And even better, I filmed him frequently myself. He had such a brilliant legal mind. I knew I was part of something significant that could not be lost. I had an obligation.”

  “Myra, I don’t think… ”

  “Joanne, please just look at the films. They’re family films, of course. They show the man himself, but they offer so much more. Theo sitting on the dock at our cottage talking about how knowledge of art and literature places the law into context. And footage of him wandering the corridors of the Court at night alone, pondering a judgment. And he did this lovely thing – every year, he and his students went skating on the Rideau Canal. He’s a fine skater and I have film of that, and there’s always an inspiring sequence at the end where Theo and his students sit on a bench by the canal drinking cocoa, and Theo explains how the law is like skating – push, glide, push, glide. A time for assertion, a time for reflection. Such a precise metaphor. I want people to remember him.”

  “People do remember him, Myra,” I said. “When we were first contemplating this show, I talked to people in the legal community – not just here in Saskatchewan but throughout Canada. They hold Theo in very high regard. They know he was a fine jurist and scholar.”

  “So they’ve already written his eulogy,” Myra said, and her laugh was bitter. “Robert Frost was right. ‘No memory of having starred/Atones for later disregard,/Or keeps the end from being hard.’ ”

  Her pain was as palpable as her love for her husband.

  CHAPTER 10

  After I’d found my old friend Helen Freedman’s handwritten recipe for “Harvey Calls It ‘Jewish Penicillin’ Chicken Soup” I made a list of the ingredients I’d need and called Mieka.

  “How’s everyone in your kingdom this morning?” I said.

  “The girls are bouncing off the walls. I’m doing as well as can be expected this close to Christmas. How about you?”

  “Zack has the flu.”

  “Bad?”

  “Bad enough for me to call Henry Chan. He says to keep an eye on it.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “I’m in a soup-making mood,” I said. “If you could pick up a stewing chicken and whatever vegetables look good and drop them by before you go to work, I’d be grateful.”

  “Done,” she said. “You don’t have to take the girls skate shopping after school, you know.”

  “I’d forgotten all about it,” I said. “Age.”

  “You’ve had a few things on your mind,” Mieka said.

  “Thanks, but the girls have been talking about getting their new skates for a week. More significantly, the skates are from Pete and Angus, and they’ve already given me the money.”

  Mieka chortled. “Shrewd move to get Angus to pony up ahead of time. He still owes me for ten years of Mother’s Day presents.”

  “Slip him the bill when he graduates. Anyway, let me talk to Zack about the skate shopping. My guess is that he won’t be happy if he thinks the ladies missed out on something because of him. Besides, Taylor will be home from school by the time I have to leave. We can work it out.”

  I opened my appointment calendar by the kitchen phone. Sure enough, the girls were pencilled in for skate shopping at three-thirty. There was a luncheon at the university that had also slipped my mind, and Zack and I had a client’s party at five and another, in the same hotel, at six. I called the university and the clients’ offices and left regrets. I glanced at the rest of the week, and slumped. Each day seemed black with commitments. Too much. Then I thought of Theo Brokaw thanking me for visiting because “not many do” and felt a pang for complaining about the abundance of my life.

  As penance, I got out the lemon oil and began to polish the sideboard above which we’d hung the pomegranate wreath Myra had crafted. Polishing was the kind of job I enjoyed – mindless and instantly gratifying. I’d just finished when Nadine Perrault called.

  Her voice was strong and calm. “Alwyn and I had coffee today and she suggested I get in touch with you. She said you’d be pleased to know that I’m continuing to make progress.”

  “That is good news,” I said.

  “For me, too,” she said, and with an openness that I found appealing. “For weeks now I’ve felt as if I was sitting in front of a jigsaw puzzle. The pieces were scattered all around me. I knew if I put them together I’d see the truth. But I was so afraid of what the final picture would be that I couldn’t make myself pick up the pieces.”

  “Now you’re not afraid.”

  “No. Because I know that Abby loved me, and that makes all the difference. I’m going to find out what happened to her, Joanne. I’m coming to Regina. Obviously, the explanation for Abby’s actions is tied somehow to Delia Wainberg. I’ve hired a Regina lawyer. His name is Darryl Colby. Do you know him?”

  “I don’t think so,” I said. “But I’m sure Zack will. Do you want Zack to get in touch with him?”

  “Not until Mr. Colby and I have had a chance to talk. I’ve asked him to hire an investigator. I have to learn what convinced Abby that she could no longer survive our life together. No matter how painful the answers.”

  “Zack always says it’s better to know than not know.”
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  “The truth shall set me free?”

  “Or at least make it easier for you to sleep nights,” I said.

  Nadine’s laugh was shadowed with irony. “I’d settle for that.”

  When I placed the cordless phone back in its charger, I thought about Nadine and, oddly, about Myra. It was difficult to imagine two more different women, but they were embarking on parallel journeys: Nadine, coming to a distant prairie city to discover why the partner she loved had turned into a stranger; Myra, moving to a city where she was a stranger, to mine her husband’s archives and recover the man she had revered for forty years. Seemingly, when it came to doling out hope and heartbreak, life was remarkably even-handed.

  Zack was stirring when I went into our room to check on him. I sat on the bed beside him and felt his forehead.

  “Well?” he said.

  “Still warm.”

  “How come you don’t use a thermometer?”

  “I don’t need one,” I said. “Thermometers make you crazy. Touching works just as well, and it lets you feel things a thermometer can’t measure.”

  “Such as?”

  “Such as whether the patient is glad to have your hand on his forehead.”

  “I’m glad,” Zack said. “I’d be glad if you just sat there all day.”

  “That’s exactly what I’m planning to do except I promised Madeleine and Lena I’d take them skate shopping after school. Taylor will be home. Do you think you’d be okay for an hour?”

  “Sure. The girls need skates and I never tire of Taylor’s updates on Declan.” Zack took my hand in his. “Anything happening in the big world?”

  “Nadine Perrault called. She’s coming to Regina.”

  “Not welcome news, but hardly surprising,” Zack said. “Should I gird my loins?”

  “I don’t think so. Nadine’s pretty open about what she wants. Ultimately, she wants Jacob, but she told me today her immediate need is to find out what made Abby believe she could no longer survive the life she and Nadine shared.”

  Zack winced. “That’s a phrase that will stick.”

  “The phrase is Nadine’s,” I said. “And it will stay with me too. It’s hard to fathom what could make a woman as gifted and strong as Abby turn her back on everything that mattered to her. And if it’s hard for us to understand, can you imagine what it’s like for Nadine? Anyway, logically enough, she thinks the answers must be here, and she’s hired a Regina lawyer.”

  “Who’d she get?”

  “His name is Darryl Colby.”

  Zack scowled. “Interesting choice.”

  “Do I know him?”

  Zack shifted his position and groaned. “You met him at the Bar Association Christmas party.”

  “The one with the big booming bass who sang ‘You’re a Mean One, Mr. Grinch’? He seemed like a lot of fun.”

  “Don’t let that big booming bass disarm you, Ms. Shreve. Darryl is, in the immortal words of Dr. Seuss, as cuddly as a cactus and as charming as an eel.” He also appears to have misplaced his conscience somewhere along the line.” Zack pushed himself so he was lying on his side.

  “Better?” I asked.

  “Nope. I still feel like homemade shit.”

  “Let me try something,” I fluffed up the extra pillows on the bed, brought them over to Zack’s side, and positioned them against his back. “How’s that?”

  “Good,” he said.

  I smoothed Zack’s covers. “Darryl Colby doesn’t seem like the kind of lawyer Nadine would choose.”

  “Putz Llewellyn probably recommended him. Guys like that have a network. They slither out of the same eels’ nest.” Zack heaved a mighty sigh. “I’m through talking, Jo. I’m dead.” Within seconds, he was asleep.

  I brought in the newspaper and sat in the chair by the window. It wasn’t long before Zack half-opened his eyes. “That wasn’t much of a nap,” I said. “Can I get you anything?”

  “Water?”

  I poured some from the Thermos and helped him into a sitting position. Zack drank thirstily and then lay back on his pillow. “I was dreaming about eels,” he said.

  “That’s because before you drifted off we were talking about Darryl Colby.”

  “Shit. I was hoping that was just part of the dream.” Zack narrowed his eyes. “So Colby really is Nadine’s lawyer.”

  “Yes, but you’re tough,” I said. “You can take him.”

  “Darryl’s certainly waited long enough for a chance to take a shot at me.”

  “You two have a history?”

  Zack nodded. “Darryl worked for Murray Jeffreys.”

  “The lawyer who died after he and Noah were fighting.”

  “Yeah. Darryl came to my apartment the morning after Murray died. He’d been to the morgue and noticed that for a guy who’d died of a heart attack, Murray had a lot of bruises. I told him to shove off, but he pushed my chair out of the way and strong-armed his way in.”

  “Was Delia still there?”

  “Oh yeah, and wearing one of my T-shirts. Darryl asked Delia why she put out for everybody but Murray and him. At that point Noah showed up and threatened to kill Darryl. It was quite a morning.”

  “And you think Darryl’s waited all these years to get even?”

  Zack shrugged. “All I know is if I were advising Nadine, Darryl Colby is exactly the lawyer I would have suggested. He’s a junkyard dog. Even when he’s winning, he never misses a chance to snap at opposing counsel. People respect Delia. Most of the lawyers in town would have a tough time going full bore against her. Darryl will dig up the dirt, and lick his chops as he tears her reputation to shreds.” Zack rolled over. “God, I feel awful.”

  “Too much talking,” I said. “Go back to sleep. I’ll go up to the drugstore and pick up your prescriptions, and then we’ll get you into the shower and change your sheets. Okay?”

  Zack just nodded and shut his eyes.

  When I came back from the drugstore, Mieka was in the kitchen, unpacking groceries.

  “You’re a wonder,” I said.

  “Nope, just one of Lakeview Fine Foods’ best customers. I called ahead and they had everything ready.”

  “Zack always says the more people you know the more people you know who can do something for you.”

  Mieka made a face. “Cynical, but true. Is he doing any better?”

  “Not yet,” I said. I held up the bag of medications. “I’m counting on these.”

  “And on Helen Freedman’s chicken soup,” Mieka said.

  “That soup’s been our standby since you were in kindergarten,” I said. “And this time I’m really counting on it because life is not getting simpler.” I took off my jacket. “Do you have time for a cup of coffee? I should get Zack started on his pills. But if you have a moment, I’d like to talk.”

  Mieka glanced at her watch. “I’m already over-caffeinated, but I’m okay for time.”

  I had to wake Zack up to take his pills. “Nurse Ratched here,” I said. “Do you want this medication orally or should we arrange another way?”

  Zack pushed himself to a semi-sitting position. “I never figured you for a mean woman,” he muttered.

  I kissed his shoulder. “Would you believe me if I said I would rather it was me going through this than you?”

  “Hell, yes. I’d rather it was you, too.” He gave me a weak smile. “You do realize that was a joke, don’t you?”

  “It better have been,” I said. “I’m the one who controls the drugs.”

  When I got back to the kitchen, Mieka was washing the stewing chicken.

  “Bucking for sainthood?”

  “No, just for someone to babysit the girls New Year’s Eve.”

  “Won’t you be at the lake with us New Year’s Eve?”

  “Yes, and I was hoping I could bring a date.”

  “Anyone I know?”

  “Yes, but it may fall through, so don’t get your hopes up,” Mieka said. “Anyway, just in case, could the girls stay with you and Z
ack New Year’s Eve?”

  “Absolutely. An excuse for me to have my perfect New Year’s Eve. Everyone in bed by nine o’clock.”

  Mieka smiled. “Same old Mum.”

  “Same old Mum,” I said.

  Mieka opened the knife drawer, took out my heavy-duty knife, and waved it in the air. “Do you want to do the honours or shall I?”

  “I’ll do it,” I said. I took out the cutting board and set to work.

  “Okay, so what’s going on?”

  “Abby’s partner, Nadine Perrault, called this morning. She’s coming to Regina.”

  “So, this is bad news?”

  “It’s going to make life more complicated for Zack,” I said.

  “If Zack weren’t involved, where would you think Jacob should be?”

  “I don’t know. Nadine would be a very good parent. She’s warm and thoughtful. She doesn’t put herself first, and she’s capable of great love. But Abby Michaels wanted Jacob to be with Delia and she must have had her reasons. Certainly Delia’s legal position seems solid.”

  “Why ‘seems’ rather than ‘is’?”

  The leg came free and I severed the thigh from the drumstick. “Zack’s uneasy about this case,” I said, “I guess it’s rubbing off on me.”

  “So what’s going to happen?”

  “I think Jacob will end up with the Wainbergs. It’s not going to be a fairy-tale ending, but if life unfolds as it should, it’s possible that everyone involved will be reasonably content. Delia’s prepared to offer Nadine access, and if Nadine’s lawyer can prove that Abby’s decision was based on something other than concern about Nadine’s character, the access should be generous.” I began cutting the other leg free.

  Mieka shook her head. “You didn’t spend much time with Nadine, Mum. She could have some skeletons rattling in her closet.”

  “The priest at Nadine’s church in Port Hope didn’t think so. He told Nadine that everything Abby did at the end grew out of her love for Nadine and her desire to protect her.”

  Mieka’s eyes widened. “Are priests in Port Hope allowed to divulge the secrets of the confessional?”