EQMM, December 2009

by Dell Magazine Authors

"Nice to have money."

  Davey did not answer. It riled him that it was Sue who had the money. What riled him even more was her persistence in ignoring his hints that the deed should be changed to joint ownership. He would have appreciated survivorship rights. Not only that, but Sue's sole ownership sometimes made him feel more like a guest at the cottage than lord of the manor.

  Terry, her elbows resting on the granite counter, gazed out the window at Cranberry Lake sparkling in the sunshine. “I can just imagine standing here peeling potatoes while enjoying that view."

  The autumn colours were at their height: crimson, russet, yellow, and gold.

  "Fall is my favourite season,” he said. “I wanted to share this with you."

  "Look!” she exclaimed. “Two people out in a canoe."

  He glanced in the direction she pointed. “Yeah. I see them. No life jackets."

  In the stern of a red canoe knelt a big, sandy-haired man wearing a tan windbreaker. The woman, paddling in the bow, had her brown hair in a ponytail. She wore a black backpack over her blue jacket.

  "I know the guy,” Davey said. “Alvin Tofflemire. The Tofflemires’ cottage is further up the lake from here. I don't know the girl.” He snickered. “Looks like Al is having a bit on the side. Everybody's doing it."

  "Let's have the rest of the tour,” Terry said stiffly.

  From the great room, a short corridor led to the bedrooms. The door to the first one stood open.

  "This is Kate's room."

  "She's four, isn't she?"

  "Can't you tell?"

  A laminated circus poster dominated one plank wall. On the bed cushions were piles of stuffed animals. Picture books lined the shelves.

  "Sweet,” Terry said.

  Next came eight-year-old Sally's room, where framed pictures of dogs decorated the walls. As well as books about dogs, the shelves held a collection of china dogs, each representing a different breed.

  "I guess Sally likes dogs,” Terry said.

  "Crazy about them."

  "Does she have one?"

  "No. Sue won't allow an animal in the house.” He chuckled. “She barely tolerates me."

  "The animal in you is what I like best."

  "Grrr." He took a playful nip at her ear.

  "Ouch! Stop that!"

  Davey liked to think of himself as tough and slightly threatening. In fact, he was a soft man, not in good shape, at thirty-seven already developing a paunch. He had a broad face with regular features, and reddish-brown hair in a buzz cut, which he considered youthful and athletic.

  Terry smiled and rubbed her ear. “Now show me the master bedroom."

  "This way."

  She stopped at the next door. “Here?"

  "No. That's a bathroom."

  At the end of the hall he opened the door to a spacious room with its own fireplace. A deep blue Persian carpet with red and yellow medallions covered half the floor. The window drapes and the king-size bed's quilted comforter picked up the carpet's jewel-like tones.

  "Wow! This is bigger than my whole apartment.” She strolled about, peering into the two walk-in closets and inspecting the en suite with its Jacuzzi tub. When she had finished looking around, she sat down on the edge of the bed, kicked off her shoes, and lay back. “I want to try this out.” She folded her arms behind her head and smiled an invitation.

  Davey moved toward her, then stopped.

  "Uh-uh. Not here."

  "Why not?"

  "Sue and I...” Davey faltered. This was not a good time to tell his girlfriend that he loved and honoured his wife.

  "Some things are sacred. Right?"

  He flushed. “There are things it doesn't seem right to share."

  "Well, okay.” She sat up. “But I notice you don't mind sharing your pecker."

  He laughed. “The cottage may be Sue's, but the pecker is mine."

  Terry's smile seemed forced. “All right. So which bedroom do we use? Where do you put your guests?"

  "We could use a guest room, but what I had in mind was the sheepskin on the hearth in the great room. I can light a fire."

  She was putting on her shoes. “Sounds romantic. We can share a bottle of wine."

  "I forgot to bring any."

  "What about the wine I saw in the kitchen?"

  "Sue would notice a bottle missing. We never keep more than a few on hand. Kids from the trailer park outside Seeley's Bay sometimes break into cottages. If they find enough alcohol to get drunk, they trash the place."

  Terry frowned. Davey did not blame her. Sharing a bottle of wine was something they both liked to do when they made love.

  "Come on,” he said, and guided her back to the great room. “You relax while I light a fire."

  Terry settled in an armchair while he arranged paper, kindling, and logs. He had done this a hundred times before, but when he had lit the fire, the logs refused to catch. After a lovely flare while the paper and kindling burned, the flames died.

  "I'll try again.” Davey felt inept. He had wanted to impress Terry.

  "It doesn't matter. I'm not cold."

  She slipped from the chair and crossed to the hearth, where she knelt beside him on the thick, warm sheepskin. With a smile, she pulled off her sweater and unhooked her brassiere. Then she leaned toward him and pressed her mouth to his. He did not respond. His body felt awkward and stiff.

  Again she kissed him, pushing her tongue into his mouth. A little aroused, he placed one hand on her round, smooth breast and leaned her backwards on the rug. Still he felt no tightening in his groin. He wanted his penis to become huge and hard. Nothing happened.

  "What's wrong?” she asked.

  "I don't know. Put your clothes on. Let's go to a motel."

  The absurdity struck him. Why had he brought Terry here? Invading Sue's domain, he couldn't help comparing Terry to Sue. How had he got himself into this affair with a woman who didn't have half his wife's brains or class? If Sue knew about it, she would kick him out. No more marriage. No more summers at the cottage. He would lose his children, too. Terry would expect him to marry her....

  Terry sat up and put on her brassiere.

  "You've acted weird ever since we got here,” she said.

  "Sorry."

  She stood up. “I'm going to the bathroom to comb my hair."

  "Don't get any on the floor."

  "What?"

  "I don't want Sue picking up a long black hair from the bathroom floor and wondering who that belonged to."

  "You make me feel cheap."

  That was the way he felt, too. But before he could summon a response that he would not regret, Terry had crossed the room and was looking out the window at the lake.

  "There's your friend paddling back. But he's alone in the canoe."

  Davey joined her at the window. “When they went by earlier, I thought they were just out for a paddle. I guess I was wrong. The girl was probably a guest, and Al was taking her over to Seeley's Bay to catch the bus. No hanky-panky after all. Well, I never did think of Al as a ladies’ man.” He turned from the window. “Let's get out of here."

  Terry looked flustered. “First, couldn't we have a cup of tea?"

  "Sorry, honey. I'd rather not. The less we touch, the less evidence we leave. I don't want Sue to suspect that I've brought a woman up here. To her, this place is the Garden of Eden."

  "So that makes me the serpent?"

  "Sweetheart, you're the apple."

  She giggled. And when he pretended to bite her cheek, she wrapped her arms around him. He felt a surge of relief that the crisis had passed. As she kissed his mouth, he felt his penis thickening, pushing up against his briefs.

  "Come on. Let's find a motel."

  * * * *

  The next weekend Davey, Sue, and the girls drove up to Cranberry Lake to spend Thanksgiving at the cottage, as they did every year. On Sunday, while Davey took the chainsaw to a white pine that had blown down in a windstorm, Sue prepared the traditional dinner: turkey with cranberry
sauce (wild, highbush cranberries that Kate and Sally had gathered), carrots, mashed potatoes, and apple pie.

  Alvin and Lisa Tofflemire paddled over for dinner. They were about the same age as Davey and Sue, but had no children. Although the two couples saw each other often during the summer, Thanksgiving was the only time they got together in the off-season, since the Sturmonts’ home was in Kingston while the Tofflemires lived in Ottawa.

  After Kate and Sally had gone to bed, the adults sipped brandy in front of a warm fire. (This time it lit properly.) Davey thought that Sue's ash-blond hair looked pretty in the firelight. She was in every way an attractive woman, long-limbed and graceful. They had met as undergraduates at Queen's University, and Davey had been smitten even before he knew about the money. It was not until she took him home to “meet the folks” that Davey realized Sue's parents were totally loaded. When she had said that she would marry him, Davey knew how lucky he was in every way.

  "Have you used your cottage since the end of summer?” Sue asked the Tofflemires. The question was just to make conversation.

  "This is the first visit for me since Labour Day,” Lisa said. “But Al was up last weekend with a bunch of friends he knew from university.” She smiled fondly at her husband. “I'm so proud of him. Those guys left the cottage neat as a pin. You'd never think that eight men had been up here fishing the weekend before."

  Davey glanced from the corner of his eye at Alvin, whose smile seemed forced. Ah-ha! Davey thought. I was right the first time. Although he seldom felt guilty about his own infidelity, he found it reassuring not to be the only sinner. Who could blame Al for having a girlfriend on the side? Lisa was a good woman, but she had teeth like a horse and a laugh to match. As long as she did not know, where was the harm?

  * * * *

  On November tenth, duck hunters found the body of a woman in shallow water near the shore on the west side of Cranberry Lake. The deceased had brown hair and wore a blue jacket. The corpse was not in good shape. According to the coroner's report, it had been in the water for about one month. The lungs were filled with water. Death was by drowning, but there had also been a blow to the base of the skull, possibly inflicted by the edge of a paddle blade. Foul play was suspected.

  According to news reports, the dead woman's husband, Robert Lovitt, had identified the remains. The deceased was April Lovitt, age twenty-six, of Ottawa. She had told her husband that she was going to Sarnia to visit her sister the weekend of October second to the fourth. When she did not return as expected, he had phoned the sister, who informed him that no such visit had ever been planned. Mr. Lovitt had not reported his wife as a missing person. This omission was partly due to embarrassment, for he assumed that she had left him for another man. He had also hoped that she would return of her own volition.

  From the day the body was found, fear ruled Davey's life. What if Terry connected the victim with the woman they both had seen in Alvin Tofflemire's canoe? What if, after making the connection, Terry decided to tell the police? Then surely it would become public knowledge that Terry had been with Davey at the cottage that day.

  Davey and Terry had not been together since that afternoon, when they had gone to a motel after fleeing the cottage. There had been no quarrel, yet in Davey's mind, the affair was over. In his extramarital relationships, Davey always knew the precise moment when it was time to walk away. He had intended to tell Terry as soon as he could think of an adroit way to handle the situation. So far, he had simply avoided her. Each morning, when he arrived at the school at eight a.m., he would check his pigeonhole for messages and then scurry to the science room to set up for his first class.

  The discovery of the body brought his situation into sharp focus. He loved Sue. He loved Kate and Sally. He loved the cottage, and his BMW, and skiing at Whistler, and all the other luxuries that a teacher's salary could not provide. He did not love Terry. Yet if matters turned out badly, his affair with her could cost him everything else.

  He wanted to tell Terry that it was time for both of them to move on. But hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. If he dumped Terry, he would have no leverage to keep her from telling the police that she had seen a man identified as Al Tofflemire, in a canoe with a woman wearing a blue jacket, paddling south on Cranberry Lake, and then the same man returning alone one hour later. If Terry went to the police with this story, Davey's name would be dragged in. Sue could put two and two together. He must not let that happen. For the foreseeable future, he would have to string Terry along.

  That evening, he phoned her from the pay phone at the VIA station, which was a few miles out of town and the safest place from which to make a call.

  "Sweetheart, we have to talk about what we saw that afternoon on Cranberry Lake."

  "You mean, your neighbour, that girl, and the canoe?"

  "Exactly. It mustn't get out that you and I were at the cottage. Besides, I've known Al Tofflemire for years. He wouldn't hurt a fly."

  "We aren't talking about a fly. That was a woman."

  "Maybe not the same woman."

  "It looks like it happened that same weekend. She wore a blue jacket. The coroner said a paddle could have caused that injury to the base of her skull."

  "Sure, sure. Anything's possible. I'm just asking you not to talk about it to anyone, especially not the police. Don't cause trouble when it isn't necessary. If Sue finds out about you and me, she'll kick me out. Not only that, but I could lose my job. You could lose yours, too. You know how this Board of Education feels about improper behaviour. Please, Terry, if you and I have any chance of a future together..."

  That did it.

  "Davey honey, what do you want me to do?"

  Slowly he let out his breath. “Sweetheart, there's nothing for you and me to do except say nothing and be good to each other."

  "I thought you were avoiding me. You haven't called me. At school, you act like I'm invisible. But you always have. I guess that's necessary."

  "Now more than ever. But I want to see you. When may I come over? Tomorrow evening? I can tell Sue I have a meeting."

  "Yes. Tomorrow.” He heard her sigh. “Davey, I need you."

  "And I need you."

  What a bastard I've turned out to be, he thought as he hung up the phone.

  Terry's apartment was upstairs over a hairdresser's salon in a down-at-the-heels part of town. As usual, Davey parked on a side street and waited until no pedestrians were in sight before approaching the door. It was a narrow door, painted blue, on street level. He used the key that she had given him when their affair began six months ago, and he climbed the steep staircase to the landing, where a second door opened to her apartment. He knocked. Immediately, she let him in.

  There was a constant smell of cleaning products in Terry's apartment. This odor, which he found pleasant, might have been the result of Terry's constant effort to fight grime. Or it might have been the scent of shampoos from the salon below.

  The apartment consisted of a small lounge, furnished with a sofa and chair in matching flowered slipcovers, a kitchenette, a bathroom with a worn claw-foot tub which a metal rod and plastic curtains had adapted for showering, and a bedroom the size of Sue's clothes closet. Davey had never liked to visit Terry here, preferring motels. But the apartment was safer. At night, there was never anyone else in the building.

  Davey had brought a bottle of white wine. They made love on top of the worn chenille coverlet of her narrow bed. Before leaving, he gave her a bracelet: moonstones set in silver.

  The next day, Davey noticed her wearing the bracelet at work. Two hundred dollars was a cheap price to pay for peace of mind. Everything was going to work out fine, he told himself. The police would conduct their investigation. Either they would make an arrest or they would not. It did not matter greatly to Davey, so long as he could keep out of the way.

  Maybe he should apply to change schools next September. Then, his affair with Terry could wither away. Out of sight, out of mind. One good thing about Terry, s
he had a tender heart where children were involved. As for himself, once he had extricated himself, he would never be unfaithful to Sue again.

  Weeks passed with no arrest. Christmas approached. Davey was beginning to feel complacent until, on the Saturday that he took Kate to see Santa Claus, his world threatened to explode.

  The morning had begun well. For the first time, Kate did not wail when placed on the knee of the bearded stranger in the red snowsuit. Shyly but clearly, she confided that she wanted a princess doll and a bicycle with training wheels. Catching a nod from Davey, Santa promised to deliver.

  On their way home, Davey turned on the car radio to catch the eleven a.m. news. That was when he learned that an arrest had been made. Kate, in the backseat, was singing “Jingle Bells.” He turned up the volume to catch the name of the person charged, expecting it to be Alvin Tofflemire. But no; the person charged was Jason Giddy, of Seeley's Bay. There would be more details on the main newscast at noon.

  Davey pulled into the driveway, opened the rear passenger door, and unbuckled Kate. When he lifted her from the seat, she protested indignantly, “I can walk, Daddy!” But he carried her into the house anyway, setting her down only to open the front door. In the hall, he unwound her muffler and knelt to pull off her pink boots.

  "I'm making hot chocolate,” Sue called from the kitchen. Davey and Kate joined her. Sally was already there, sitting at the table munching a cookie. “How was the visit to Santa?” Sue asked.

  "Fine. Just fine.” He left it to Kate to relate the details. Standing by the counter, listening to her little-girl chatter, he thought how much he loved her and also Sally, who, too old for Santa Claus but under orders to say nothing that would undermine her little sister's faith, wore that smug I-know-something-that-you-don't smile that is the essence of older-sisterness.

  It was one minute before noon when Kate finished her story. “I'm going to turn on the TV,” Davey said to Sue. “There's been an arrest for that Cranberry Lake murder."

  Sue joined him in the den, sitting in the leather armchair with her long legs tucked beside her.

  The arrest was the first item on the local news. The person charged with the murder of April Lovitt was twenty-year-old Jason Giddy. He and his girlfriend, a seventeen-year-old minor who could not be identified because of her age, had spent a day running up purchases on the victim's credit card. The young man denied killing April Lovitt. He had, he said, found the body in shallow water near the shore, taken the victim's backpack, and then shoved the body back into the water. The credit card had been in the backpack, which he later disposed of. Jason Giddy and his girlfriend both lived in the trailer park just outside Seeley's Bay. Giddy was known to the police.