Webby, secrets are such a heavy burden; they can destroy lives. Ray was never the same after the war, and if you are in Tennessee as you read this, now we know why. The secret was destroying him too.
What about your secret, Webby?
It worried me greatly, watching you change in the years after your mother married Elliott Skinner. You were once so open and affectionate and joyful, like that beagle of yours. Nibbles? Or maybe it was Niblet.
Slowly you became tougher and colder. I’d ask your mother about it, but Charlotte always kept a bright face, said things were great at home.
Let me ask you this, Webby. Who sent the letter to your principal telling her to look in your locker for marijuana? Don’t be surprised I know about this. I’ve been worried about you for years, and I’ve tried to let very little escape me when it comes to your life.
Here’s my guess. I think you sent the letter. I think you were looking for the perfect excuse to get out of the house without forcing your mother to wonder if the real reason was Elliott.
Remember that day you asked me to co-sign a loan for a J-45? It got me to wondering why you’d need another guitar, because I knew nothing was more important to you than the guitar your dad left you when he died. That’s when I decided I would do what I could to find out about Elliott.
I went to your mother, and she said Elliott never hurt her or hurt you. When I said I didn’t believe her, she admitted that she always felt afraid around him, even though she couldn’t explain it in a way that didn’t make her sound crazy, and that it was slowly making her feel smaller and smaller. She said it broke her heart when you left the house after telling Elliott you never wanted to talk to her again. But at the same time, she felt that somehow it was safer for you not to be living at home.
Webby, that’s not how people should live. In fear.
The folder should help. Read it, and then let Devine advise you on the best way to use what’s in the folder. Do it on your terms. Not Elliott’s.
Webb wanted to throw his coffee mug through the front window of the restaurant. He hadn’t told Elliott he never wanted to talk to his mother again. Elliott had made sure Webb stayed away from her and then lied about it.
He fought the rage, and finally, he slowly and calmly put the letter back into the envelope. It was the only way to control himself, because if he gave in to his emotions in the slightest, the dam would break and he’d go berserk right there in the Main Street Cafe.
His growing feeling of cold rage told Webb that his grandfather was right. He was becoming Elliott. He had wanted to run over Brent in Norman Wells, he’d wanted to smash Fritz in the head with a rock. Normal humans don’t respond like that.
Webb forced himself to sip his coffee until the feeling subsided.
Then he opened the folder. It contained two pages. The first page was a letter from a private investigation firm, stating that the summary that followed was based on factual evidence that could be backed up in court.
The second page was the summary of the investigation into the events that led to the dishonorable discharge of Elliott McLuhan Skinner from the Canadian Armed Forces.
Dishonorable?
But Elliott Skinner had presented himself as a soldier honorably discharged, and built up his security firm on that reputation.
Webb read the second page three times. Phrases had been highlighted.Dishonorable discharge based on overly harsh discipline with recruits. Anger management issues with inappropriate responses to anyone who challenged his authority. Dishonorable discharge hidden by altered computer records and false references. Confirmed assessment as a borderline psychopath, according to the PCL-R testing standards.
Webb didn’t care what PCL-R stood for, but felt an amazing relief that the secret didn’t need to remain hidden. That someone else—someone who would be believed—could confirm what had been happening. Webb closed the folder and stared at it so long that the waitress came over and asked if anything was the matter.
Webb told her no.
He put the note and the letter from his grandfather and the folder from the private investigator back into the FedEx package and put the package into his guitar case.
He stepped outside into the heat. He sat on a bench on the sidewalk and looked at the sky as if he could peer into heaven and see his grandfather.
Then he took out his phone and dialed a number that he had not dialed in a long, long time.
When the person on the other end answered, he began to cry.
“Mom,” he said. “I want to come home.”
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Many thanks to Eric Walters for giving me the chance to be involved in this great project. Thanks also to editor Sarah Harvey for providing encouragement and insight and to Andrew Wooldridge and everyone else at Orca. It’s so fun and rewarding to work with the team. And thank you to Canadian North airlines for all their help with my travels to the North and their support for literacy for the students in the Northwest Arctic. Thanks as well to Drew Ramsey and Ram Bam Thank You Ma’am, BMI, for production of the song “Monsters,” which can be heard at www.seventheseries.com or on iTunes.
SIGMUND BROUWER is the bestselling author of books for both children and adults, including Rock & Roll Literacy and titles in the Orca Echoes, Orca Currents and Orca Sports series. Visit www.rockandroll-literacy.com for more information about Sigmund’s presentations. Sigmund and his family divide their time between Eagleville, Tennessee, and Red Deer, Alberta.
www.seventheseries.com
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