Winter's Mourning

by Janice J. Richardson

  Jennifer nodded as Amber opened the box. Amber gasped.

  “It’s beautiful. Oh, Matt look, it’s beautiful.” Amber clasped the box to her heart then brought it down to show Matt.

  Over their bent heads Regina caught Jennifer’s eye and smiled.

  As Matt and Amber thanked Jennifer and stepped out into the sunshine, Jennifer touched Regina’s arm.

  “Thank you for bringing them. By the way, I have a meeting with Winter’s father-in-law Sunday.”

  “You found him?”

  “Yes. Actually, I know him. I’ll keep you posted.”

  “I’ll call later,” said Regina. She hurried to catch up to Matt and Amber.

  True to her word, Chaplain Regina called a few hours later.

  “Hi Jennifer. When did you say you’d be meeting with Aaron’s father?”

  “Sunday evening.”

  “Winter’s psychologist was quite open with me once I told him about your meeting. Winter’s health is deteriorating.”

  “You mean her physical health?”

  “Yes, he’s concerned about her and the baby. Her emotional health is affecting her ability to relate to people, to eat and sleep. Can you give me the details of who Aaron’s dad is and if there is a possibility he’ll be involved in Winter’s life?”

  Jennifer took her time explaining how she met him, careful not to disclose too much about Aaron’s funeral. She told Regina how Mr. Wisener did not have anyone attend the visitation. She ended it with a question.

  “Do you know of Mr. Wisener, what he does, Regina?”

  “No.”

  “He is one of the wealthiest men in the country.” She named a few of his companies.

  Regina exhaled, long and hard. “Then Aaron’s father must know about Winter. I can’t imagine how he could turn his back on her.”

  “We don’t know that for sure. I do know that he struggled with his grief. He was hard to read, stone-faced, had a flat affect, but I could feel his pain.”

  “I’m very concerned about Winter. If this can’t be resolved, she may never fully recover. She has shown little interest in her pregnancy. She’s four months in. The workers at the shelter share our concern.”

  “Does the psychologist think she’s ready to accept the news of Aaron’s death?”

  “I didn’t ask. Call me as soon as you can after your meeting with Mr. Wisener. If he doesn’t want any involvement, then not telling Winter about her husband’s death would be cruel.”

  “I’ll do that.”

  “And I’ll pray for a good outcome,” said the Chaplain. She disconnected.

  Jennifer sat back in her chair and stared at the ceiling. “So will I,” she whispered.

  16

  After Travis’ move, threatening Jennifer by sending the young guy with the truck to hurt her, she seriously questioned her ability to do her job or even leave the funeral home was in question. Detective Sergeant Gillespie’s call the next morning highlighted the fact she’d no longer be going out.

  Jennifer made it clear there had to be compromise. She would not be a prisoner in her own funeral home.

  Detective Sergeant Gillespie understood the need for compromise. He just didn’t want to compromise Jennifer’s life.

  Jennifer was equally insistent that she not renege on her responsibility as a funeral director. She would do the funeral for Greg as promised. She was even more determined to bring the mystery of Winter’s grief to a close.

  Both stood their ground.

  In the end, it was Officer Warren who came up with an idea. It wasn’t a sophisticated idea. She didn’t care one way or the other, her goal was to do Greg’s funeral and do what she could for his wife Linda and her mom Evelyn. Officer Warren made that possible.

  For the first compromise a flower van pulled into the garage area at the same time the coach pulled up to the chapel doors. Officer Stuart, who was wearing a dark suit, loaded the casket with Jennifer. He took his time closing the coach door. Jennifer used that time to scoot to the garage and sneak into the back of the flower van, out of sight. She didn’t mind sitting on the little stool in the back; she felt safe, securely hidden from view. She was doing her job and if someone watched the funeral home they’d see the coach driver was alone.

  The coach went one way, the van another. Eventually, when Officer Stuart was satisfied he wasn’t being followed he notified the van driver and they met up on a quiet road. Jennifer hopped out of the van.

  “Thanks Peter,” Jennifer said as she pulled the magnetic flower shop signs for Bloom’s Flower Shop off the doors and tossed them into the back of the van. “Please thank John for lending us the signs, will you?”

  “My pleasure.” Peter tipped his ball cap and thrummed his fingers over the steering wheel, grinning from ear to ear. “It’s great to be able to drive again. All this clandestine stuff makes it even more fun. I’ll make sure John gets the message when I drop off the signs at his flower shop.”

  Greg’s funeral service was simple and moving. There were ten mourners in all: a few friends of Greg and Linda’s, and Greg’s sister. Jennifer sat in the back of the little church with her eyes closed, listening to the celebrant’s words about Greg’s life, filled with love and work and laughter. He lived it well.

  This is how a life should be celebrated, thought Jennifer.

  She and Officer Stuart and four of the mourners moved Greg’s casket into the funeral coach before Stuart drove slowly to the crematorium.

  “Two young widows, Linda and Winter,” she said to Officer Stuart. “Linda can continue her grief journey. Winter needs resolution. I can only hope the meeting with Mr. Wisener goes well.”

  The second compromise proved to be more than a little contentious. An argument between Jennifer and Officer Jim escalated. At the time, both of them were tired and cranky. As Jennifer said to Officer Jim later as she apologized, tired and cranky was no excuse for bad behaviour. He concurred, and apologized to her as well.

  He’d tried to remind her the Niagara Regional Police had a mandate to keep her safe. That meant keeping her safely in sight. Jennifer insisted she needed to be able to meet with Mr. Wisener without a bodyguard. In the end, after a decent night’s sleep and a final and firm reminder from Officer Jim about what happened after the last time she ignored her protection officer’s rules, she notified Mr. Wisener’s secretary that an officer would be accompanying them. Since his office took the message, she did not get a confirmation email back. She didn’t feel comfortable meeting with Mr. Wisener with a bodyguard sitting nearby. The information she had to present to him was intensely personal.

  As Sunday afternoon drew to a close, Jennifer paid extra attention to her appearance. Looking at herself in the mirror she had a moment of doubt. She saw a conservatively-dressed young woman who, in her eyes she, did not look or feel pretty. She was feeling short and small as she thought of the evening ahead. Walking into her living room, Jen sat down on the couch. Grimsby, who sat in his favourite spot across the back, gave a chirpy meow. She reached up idly and rubbed his ears.

  The more time I’m cooped up in the funeral home, the more insecure I get, she thought. This time, though, maybe I did overstep. I did the right thing helping Winter. But did I do the right thing by notifying Mr. Wisener? Her stomach clenched and she fought back the waves of insecurity that swept over her.

  Enough. Go downstairs and face the consequences. Good or bad, Winter will have some resolution.

  Officer Jim waited in the lounge. He looked up and smiled as she entered.

  “You look very distinguished in a suit Officer Jim.” He seemed a little embarrassed at the compliment.

  Guess we’re both a bit out of our element, she thought.

  “You look lovely too, Jennifer,” he responded as he rose. The two of them went to the lobby just in time to see a black Acura pull up. The driver got out and opened the back door for Jennifer as Officer Jim locked up the funeral home. Jim sat in the front seat.

  Officer Jim and Jenni
fer rode in silence to the Niagara Falls hotel. Mr. Wisener’s driver didn’t say a word either. Jennifer still second-guessed herself as they got closer. Suggesting to Mr. Wisener that Winter was his daughter-in-law had been a good idea when she first made the connection. Now, her confidence continued to erode as they got closer.

  As they pulled up to a hotel, a valet approached and took the keys. Officer Jim got out of the car quickly and reached Jennifer’s door before the driver could get to it.

  For heaven’s sake, she thought. I appreciate that they’re both gentlemen, but really? As always, when stressed, she was irritable. Jennifer had learned not to let it show, at least not out loud.

  “Thank you,” she said sweetly, smiling at Officer Jim. Bystanders were watching them with mild curiosity.

  Not to be outdone, the driver opened the hotel door for both of them. “This way please,” he said politely as he led them to a bank of elevators. They disembarked at a restaurant overlooking the falls. The lady at the hostess desk glanced up as they approached and looked at one of the hosts, who stepped forward.

  “Wisener party?”

  The driver nodded.

  “Ms. Spencer, welcome. Follow me please,” the host said.

  “Gentleman, if you care to follow me I will take you to your table,” said the hostess.

  The host and hostess led the little group to the back of the restaurant. Jennifer and Officer Jim couldn’t help but stare in wonder as they walked past floor to ceiling windows that overlooked the falls. The view was magnificent.

  The host paused at a heavy wooden door at the back of the restaurant and knocked. The hostess seated the driver and pulled out the chair for Officer Jim at a table just outside the door. Officer Jim didn’t sit. He looked at the door and stood beside Jennifer.

  The corners of the driver’s mouth turned up. Jennifer cringed inwardly. Mr. Wisener’s security team was world class. When Travis sent Jorge to break into the funeral home, it was Mr. Wisener’s team that thwarted the break-in. As the host opened the door, Jennifer glimpsed a private dining room with the same floor to ceiling windows and spectacular view. Fresh flower arrangements were scattered throughout the room. A table in the middle was set for two and there was a grouping of comfortable seating near the window.

  Officer Jim poked his head through the door, scanned the room and backed out.

  “I’ll see you later, Jennifer.” He turned and took a seat with the driver. Jennifer noticed the two men size each other up. He was just doing his job, she told herself. She had to admit that Officer Jim did look pretty handsome in his suit, matching the driver’s distinguished appearance.

  The host seated Jennifer at the table and withdrew. She turned her attention to the window, rose and walked to the glass. She took a deep breath as she surveyed one of her favourite sights from this new angle. She stood quietly until she heard the door open. Turning, she observed Mr. Wisener as he crossed the room. He still carried himself with military bearing.

  “Ms. Spencer, so good to see you again.” He joined her at the window, greeting her with a classic European kiss on each cheek.

  “Please, call me Jennifer,” she said, knowing that after a greeting like that it was customary to use one’s formal name until instructed otherwise.

  “Then you must call me John.”

  They stood and looked at the falls together. Mr. Wisener broke the amicable silence.

  “You’ve been through some challenging times. My security team briefed me. I was quite distressed.”

  Jennifer mentally scolded herself as tears, ever close to the surface, sprang to her eyes. This meeting wasn’t about her.

  The waiter entered the room and stood by the table. Mr. Wisener held her chair, then sat.

  “Wine?”

  “Not tonight I’m afraid, I’m on call. Thank you though, please don’t let me stop you.” She looked up at the waiter. “Club soda with ice please.”

  Mr. Wisener ordered wine and sat back in his chair. “Shall we start with your business or mine?”

  Jennifer looked at the kind, distinguished man and felt a little knot of fear cramp her stomach. She hung her head.

  “Perhaps we could start with mine,” she said. “This is very difficult for me, and I’m afraid it may be for you as well.”

  His demeanour didn’t change, his face fixed neutral. The wine arrived, he tested and approved it and waited until the waiter withdrew.

  “Don’t be afraid to talk to me about anything, Jennifer.” The kindness in his voice soothed her. “You helped me through the most difficult time of my life.”

  “I have run through the easiest way to bring this to your attention over and over.” Jennifer paused to collect her thoughts. “I’ve concluded there is no easy way.” She pulled the picture of Aaron and Winter from her purse.

  “We were given this picture of Aaron by one of his friends.” She handed him the photo. Jennifer had mentally rehearsed that line over and over. She didn’t want to blurt out “Is that Aaron?” or start with telling him about finding Winter. What if it wasn’t Aaron?

  Jennifer watched his face closely as he studied the picture. Grief, obvious and still raw, swept over his face.

  He put the picture on the table and looked up at Jennifer. “Go on.”

  “John, were you aware that Aaron was married?” her voice barely above a whisper.

  He closed his eyes. Jennifer sat silent and still until he opened them. His voice, like hers, was soft.

  “No.”

  A flood of relief swept over her washing away some of the grief she’d been carrying for Winter. As the waiter entered the room, Mr. Wisener turned to him. “Not yet.” The waiter nodded and withdrew.

  “Is this true?” Mr. Wisener asked, picking up the photo and studying it again.

  “The marriage is on record with the Registrar General’s Office. Her name is Winter. She’s pregnant.”

  Once again silence lingered. It was a while before he spoke.

  “Actions have consequences. I paid dearly for mine.” He looked at Jennifer. “Aaron and I were estranged. He told me he didn’t want to go to university. I demanded he go. He might still be alive if I hadn’t driven him away.”

  His shoulders convulsed and wracking sobs filled his body. Jennifer’s heart swelled with empathy. Unsure what to do, impulsively she rose, walked over to him and folded the sobbing man in her arms. He didn’t resist. Minutes passed as he continued to cry. Spent finally, he sat up and wiped his eyes. The tears continued to flow, but he was silent. Jennifer returned to her seat. She did not trust herself to speak in the face of such pain. She waited.

  “Go on please, Jennifer.”

  “A few weeks ago I was walking along the Niagara Parkway. It was a cold, dreary, wet day, the kind of day some of us find invigorating. There were few tourists and I was alone much of the time. As I walked back to my car I heard a sound, a cry. That is how I found Winter.”

  “Winter, that’s her name?”

  “Winter Clarke, with an e. Of course, I didn’t know her name at the time. She was sitting on the wet ground in the rain before a tree at the edge of the escarpment. When I approached her she didn’t seem to know I was there. I wrapped her in my coat, asked her questions, she didn’t respond. I called an ambulance.”

  Jennifer took a sip of her club soda, then a larger sip before putting her glass down. She was emotionally attached to Winter and it was hard to relate the details.

  “When I handed you the photo, I said ‘we’. There’s a Chaplain at the hospital I have worked with in the past. I called and, with her assistance, Winter was placed into a women’s shelter. There was no room on the psychiatric ward. Winter has said very little. It was on our second visit that she said her first word to us, Aaron.” Jennifer took a deep, restorative breath.

  “By that time. I had a bodyguard, Detective Constable Sue Ziegler. Together we went to the escarpment and looked at the spot where Winter had been sitting. There were initials in the tree, WC, AW. Th
anks to one of Sue’s contacts, we found out that Winter had lived in Toronto. Her contact in Toronto found a friend of Winter’s, her maid of honour, who provided the officer with the photo.”

  “And Winter is pregnant?”

  “Yes, almost four months. She has a couple of weeks left at the shelter before she has to leave. Her psychologist has been very cautious with her, our visits are kept to five minutes. Her grief is pathological and debilitating. Unfortunately, her physical health is deteriorating as well, according to her psychologist. Is it possible she didn’t know Aaron died?”

  “She couldn’t have known. I didn’t know Aaron was married ...” His voice trailed off. He put his elbows on the table and placed his head in his hands.

  Jennifer waited. She watched the light fade outside. After an indeterminate length of time, he sat up.

  “I have kept you from dinner. We must eat.” He rose and rang for the waiter.

  They were halfway through their meal before he spoke again.

  “It will take a few days for this situation to be analyzed. I must be certain.”

  Jennifer nodded. A man with Mr. Wisener’s considerable wealth could be a target. She felt intuitively though, that Winter was his daughter-in-law. With the pathology behind Winter’s grief, it had to be Aaron’s child.

  “How many people know?”

  “Three of us. Chaplain Salinas, Detective Constable Ziegler and me. The Chaplain may have to tell the psychologist, she agreed to hold off on the details until you and I met. As I said, he’s quite concerned about her. She’s regressing.”

  “I assure you Jennifer, that I will not make the same mistake twice. If Winter is Aaron’s wife I will ensure she has everything she needs. I won’t let her down. Now, shall we ask your Officer to join us for coffee?”

  Jennifer responded with raised eyebrows. He rose and opened the door.

  “Care to join us gentlemen?” He rang for the waiter and led Jennifer to the grouping of comfortable chairs near the window.

  Officer Jim looked closely at Jennifer as he entered the room, then turned to Mr. Wisener.

  “That was a superb meal, thank you sir.”