Bleeding Darkness

by Brenda Chapman

  Adam’s eyes widened but he held her stare. “We were good friends as well as relatives. That doesn’t change the face that Mona and I have a son with special needs waiting for us. He doesn’t understand why we’ve been away so long and he’s been upset that he’s out of his routine.” He patted Mona’s forearm and they exchanged quick, sad smiles.

  Lauren poked her fork into the mound of potatoes and made a hole in the middle. “Vivian told me that you stayed at their apartment, Adam, when you had stopovers in Edmonton, so you must have had a more solid connection than any of us realized.”

  Tristan raised his head. “When was that?”

  Lauren half-turned to look at him. “Last summer, I think when you were on tour, Tristan. August for sure. Vivian must have told you.”

  “No, no, she didn’t.” His jaw tightened and he looked across at Mona and Adam. “How often did you stay over while I was away last summer, brother?”

  Adam wouldn’t stop staring at Lauren and she knew he was threatening her with his eyes. Mona sat as still as a closed door next to him.

  “Once, maybe? It was no big deal.”

  “Then why didn’t either of you tell me?” Tristan appeared to be calculating dates in his head and suspicion crept into his eyes. “It was more than once, wasn’t it, Adam? Were you sleeping with my wife?” His voice rose. “While I was out trying to make enough money to keep her happy, were you screwing my wife in my bed?”

  Evelyn let out an angry shriek and dropped her knife with a clatter onto her plate. Adam raised both hands in the air, pushed back his chair, and slapped his hands on the table. “I slept over one time, one time and no, I didn’t sleep in your bed with your wife.” He glared across the table. “What the hell are you playing at, Lauren?”

  Lauren tried to still the beating of her heart by focusing on Mona, who hadn’t even flinched when the voices rose around her. “I’m not playing at anything,” she said calmly. “I know Vivian would want you at her cremation.” She put a small forkful of potatoes into her mouth. “She told me that you stayed over many times last summer, Adam. I thought you knew, Tristan.”

  Adam and Tristan both jumped up and Tristan’s chair hit the wall as he kicked it back. “She wouldn’t tell me who she was sleeping with but I knew she was seeing someone. I could tell that somebody had been in the condo while I was away. She wanted to separate last summer. She said she was in love with someone else and I told her she had to choose. I couldn’t understand why she came back, but you turned her down, didn’t you, Adam? You took the overseas route so you wouldn’t have any more stopovers in Edmonton and she got the message. She knew you wouldn’t leave Mona for her.”

  Adam shook his head. “That’s not how it was. You’re crazy to think I’d sleep with Vivian. Lauren is making this all up. It’s her you should be angry with, not me.”

  Evelyn’s voice cut like ice. “Sit down, the both of you. This has gone far enough. Lauren, I think you should pack up your things and go stay at a motel for the night and go back to Toronto where you belong. You’ve obviously been drinking and I won’t have you in my house any longer in this condition.”

  Lauren picked up her knife and began cutting into a slice of beef. “Actually, I haven’t been drinking.”

  “Why, you smart-alecky girl! Who do you think you are?” Evelyn jumped up and lunged across the table, her hand raised to slap Lauren on the face. Tristan blocked her path and Evelyn began screaming for him to get out of her way. Adam rounded the table behind their mother and grabbed her by the shoulders, yelling at her to calm down.

  Mona’s scream stopped everyone in their tracks.

  “Enough! Enough!” She covered her ears with her hands. “I can’t take this anymore. All this ugliness. Your lies, Adam. How many times can you lie to me with a straight face and blame Lauren for finally … finally … telling the truth. You had an affair with Vivian that went on all last spring and summer and you played me and Tristan for fools.”

  “Mona, no.” Adam let go of his mother and turned to step toward her. She held up a hand to stop him.

  “Vivian told me. She told me. That day, I passed her on the stairs with my mug of tea and she asked me to go for a walk with her. I was so happy thinking she might really like me and want to become closer with the baby coming. I actually believed that we could become like sisters. What kind of pathetic fool does that make me?”

  “Did you walk with her?” Lauren asked, willing Mona to keep talking.

  Mona looked at her and nodded. “We were having such a nice chat and she suggested we walk up the Rideau Trail a bit to enjoy the quiet of the woods. She waited until we were standing looking up at the sky through the spruce trees to tell me that she’d been having an affair with Adam and he wanted to leave me because she was having his baby. She said she was having his normal baby and he could stop booking all the overseas flights that he’d been doing to escape me and my damaged son. She lied to you, Tristan. I’m so sorry. When she turned away from me, I … I grabbed her scarf and I don’t remember. I don’t remember.” She dropped her head into her hands.

  Adam moved closer to her and faced the others now standing motionless with dawning horror on their faces. “Nobody tells anybody what went on in this room,” he said. “Mona, don’t say anything else. We’ll work through this.”

  Lauren waited a moment longer before slipping out of the dining room. Clemmie was standing with tail down near the staircase and he followed her the length of the hallway. She opened the front door and let in Officer Stonechild and the cop who looked like a Viking warrior before she climbed the stairs to pack her bags to leave. If she was lucky, she’d be home in Toronto before midnight. She’d invite Tristan to join her and they could catch the flight to Edmonton in the morning as planned. They would bury Vivian and the baby and put all of this pain behind them.

  She would not cry for Mona.

  She

  would not

  cry

  for Mona.

  Not yet.

  chapter forty

  “More chicken balls, Dawn?” asked Gundersund. She nodded and he scooped a few onto her plate. He saw Stonechild smile across the table where she sat between Rouleau and his father, Henri. They were seated in Kai’s Delight Chinese restaurant on King Street West in Portsmouth Village on Saturday evening, a few days after Mona McKenna confessed to killing her sister-in-law.

  Henri had requested they join him for dinner, which was to be his treat. Rouleau knew that his father had organized the gathering so that he could speak with Dawn about helping him with his research over the March break.

  “You’ll come work in my office at the university and I’ll pay you minimum wage. If you enjoy the work, I can apply for a grant to have you work for me over the summer at an increased salary.”

  “Am I old enough?” she asked.

  “I had my first summer job when I was twelve, so I believe you are.”

  “Then that would be great. Thanks so much, Mr. Rouleau.”

  “If we’re to be working together, I insist that you call me Henri.”

  “Henri.”

  “Do you have plans for the money?” asked Gundersund, picking up a shrimp with his chopsticks.

  “Yes. I’m going to take an art course.”

  Kala broke off her conversation with Rouleau and looked at Dawn. “I was going to surprise you, Dawn, but I’ve already enrolled you. I found the brochure in your pocket when I went to wash your jeans and called. You can start whichever session you’d like.”

  “You mean it?”

  “I do. You’ll have to find another use for your money once you earn it.”

  “Thank you so much, Aunt Kala.”

  Rouleau watched Dawn’s eyes light up and exchanged a smile with Kala. The two of them had come a long way toward being a family as far as he could see and the relationship was helping them both to heal. He noticed Gundersund looking at Kala, too, with an intensity that he hid most of the time. Gundersund’s wife, Fiona, would be
home in the spring and Rouleau knew she’d been calling Gundersund at work, refusing to let him forget he was still married. He’d be better off making a clean break with her, but Rouleau knew all about conflicted relationships and would not offer advice. Gundersund would have to decide on his own what he needed to do to be happy.

  Kala checked her watch and then set down her fork. “Dawn, it’s time to go.” She turned to Henri and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you again for supper and your company, but we have to dash because Dawn’s meeting friends for a Shawn Mendes concert at the K-Rock Centre. I’m her chauffeur tonight.”

  “We’ll do this again soon, my dear.” Henri winked at Dawn. “Enjoy yourself, young lady.”

  “I will.”

  Kala and Dawn found a parking spot near the Merchant pub and walked the rest of the way to the K-Rock. The night was clear and crisp but not so cold that they minded being outside.

  “I’m glad you decided to take in the concert.” Kala looked sideways at Dawn as they walked. “Even if I had to convince you.”

  “I thought Emily was only trying to be nice so that I’d help her with her math. She’s not really in my circle.”

  “What changed your mind?”

  Dawn shrugged and scuffed at the snow before stepping off the curb to cross the road. “She has everything you’d think she needs for a happy life but she hurts inside. I guess it took me a while to see who she really is.”

  “The best friendships can start out slowly.”

  As they got close to the stadium, the groups of teenagers, mainly girls, became thicker and more boisterous. Dawn seemed to withdraw inside herself, her eyes scanning the crowd.

  “Where did you say you’d meet up?” asked Kala.

  “By the main doors. Maybe they’re not coming. I don’t have to wait —”

  Dawn’s words were cut off by a girl calling her name. Kala turned and saw three tall blond girls cutting through the groups of teenagers. The one in the lead was beaming and lovely. The other two girls hung back as she approached.

  “You made it, Dawn.”

  “Aunt Kala, this is Emily, the girl I’ve been helping with math after school.”

  “Great to meet you.” Emily extended her hand and Kala reached out to shake it.

  “Nice to meet you, too, Emily.” Kala waved at the other two girls and turned to Dawn. “I’ll be back and waiting here for you after the concert. Have fun.”

  Kala watched them thread their way through the crowd and disappear inside the building. Dawn turned at the last moment and waved.

  Kala walked back toward her truck, enjoying the brisk air and the night sky visible above the buildings and city lights. The sidewalks had been cleared of snow for the most part with snow piled high wherever space allowed. She was happy that Dawn was out for an evening with kids her own age. A first step. Rose hadn’t given the green light for them to visit her in Joliette yet, although she and Dawn had exchanged letters and a phone call was scheduled for Sunday. More steps in the right direction.

  She started across the street when she looked up and saw Gundersund waiting for her on the other side. Her heart felt lighter at the sight of him and she quickened her steps. He took her arm when she reached him and said, “I needed to stretch my legs. Dawn met up with her friends okay?”

  “She did and now I have a few hours before I go back to get her again.”

  He held the door to the pub open and they gladly stepped inside the warm foyer. Henri had gone home and they found Rouleau deep in conversation at a table with reporter Marci Stokes, who was dressed in an emerald-green turtleneck that complemented her auburn hair and creamy complexion. Kala had never seen her looking so relaxed and glowing. She looked from Marci to Rouleau and saw that something good was going on between them. She wondered if Gundersund noticed too.

  Once she and Gundersund settled in at the table and their drinks arrived, Marci said, “I never in a million years would have suspected two different killers for the Delgado and McKenna murders. Both utterly tragic for everyone involved. My in-depth piece comes out in the Whig tomorrow so say whatever you like. I’ve already put the subject to bed.”

  “Mona McKenna is co-operating fully and her remorse is evident,” said Rouleau. “She’s been charged with second-degree murder and we’ll have to see if she receives some degree of leniency in sentencing.”

  When Marci left to go to the washroom, Kala asked Rouleau, “How did Petran react when you told him that Boris Orlov was dead?”

  “He was disappointed and is undecided about pursuing the file further. He’s sensitive to opening old wounds, but needs to balance this with closure for those who suffered under Orlov. He confirmed that his visit to see us tipped off somebody from the old regime who called Boris that afternoon when he killed himself and his sister.”

  “So many years living on that quiet street without detection,” said Gundersund.

  “Did Petran find out what happened to Antonia’s children?” Kala asked.

  “They were adopted outside the country. He’s still trying to track them down.” Rouleau’s eyes met hers. “I hope loving families adopted them both and that something good came out of all the misery.”

  “That is always the hope,” Kala said, but she had seen too many children harmed by the system to be completely optimistic. She couldn’t forget the other foster children crying for their parents, trying to find a place to belong. They survived but many were irreparably scarred. Since Dawn had come to live with her, she’d begun to understand the importance of learning about their own ancestry as a step toward healing the past and the present — toward being at home in their own skins and embracing their strength together.

  Dawn would beat the odds. Kala would make sure of it because now their life stories were forever joined.

  The best we can do is to fight against injustice and what has gone before, she thought. To keep going through the darkness until a path leads us home.

  “I bought the house,” she blurted out to Gundersund after Marci rejoined them. “Dawn and I are now your official neighbours on Old Front Road.”

  Delight filled his face. He grinned and raised his beer. “To putting down roots,” he said, and they clinked glasses.

  “Welcome home,” said Rouleau, raising his glass to hers. “And to being where you belong with your newfound family.”

  Marci leaned over and hugged her. “I’m so pleased for you,” she said.

  chapter forty-one

  Lauren sat at her desk staring out the window. Night was falling and her reflection shone back at her in the dusky window. She heard someone at the door to her office and turned. Salim was leaning against the door frame with a grin on his handsome face. There was a time this would have been enough.

  “Want to grab some drinks and supper?” he asked. “A new Italian bistro opened up near my apartment building.”

  “Not tonight. I’m tired and want to turn in early.”

  “That was part of my plan, too.” His grin widened.

  “We aren’t doing this anymore, Salim. I thought I made myself clear enough.”

  “I was hoping you’d weakened at the sight of my new suit jacket.”

  She laughed. “Not going to happen. Find yourself a nice girl and slot me back into just being your boss.”

  “Not my first choice but I’ll adjust over time and several martinis. See you tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow.” She pretended not to see the look of longing on his face and shut down her own weakening resolve.

  Ten minutes after she’d heard him shut the main door and clomp down the stairs to the street, she packed up her desk and put on her coat and boots. Tomorrow would be the start of a new month: March. March madness. Would the change in the calendar move her forward or would she be stuck in the depression she’d fallen into after her trip to Edmonton with Tristan?

  Somehow, she’d functioned. Work had been a solace and she’d put in long hours, taking on more clients than she should have, but needing to
keep her mind busy. She’d stopped her nightly drinking and kept away from men in bars and Salim, whom she should never have started up with. She’d even managed to keep away from cigarettes. She was breaking old patterns. Trying to find herself. Maybe finding some happiness that she hadn’t known in a long time.

  She walked up to Kensington Market to buy something fresh for supper. Making her own meals was another resolution. She took her time, strolling through the quirky neighbourhood, enjoying the shoppers hustling down the narrow sidewalks cleared at long last of snow with brightly covered awnings offering a haphazard cover. Victorian houses were converted into clothing and food shops, the brick facades of some painted bright blue, yellow, and orange. When she began to feel chilled, she entered a corner food shop and picked out lettuce and vegetables to make a salad and fresh chicken breasts, which she planned to bake with tomatoes, feta, and olives. She returned through the thickening darkness to the parking lot near her office to retrieve her car and drove east through the downtown to her apartment in the Beaches.

  She parked in the outdoor lot a block away, where she had a reserved spot. The temperature was dropping and a wind cut through her wool coat. She hoped the wind would strengthen once she was tucked inside her apartment because she loved the sound of it howling outside her window when she lay in bed at night. She quickened her steps, hurrying toward the lights of the three-storey brownstone that she’d moved into six months earlier. She used her key to enter the front door and climbed the stairs to the second floor, where her two-bedroom apartment took up the southwest corner. She knew her neighbours enough to say hello but she’d kept to herself, for this place to be a haven where nobody asked anything of her.

  She pushed open the door on the landing and stepped into the corridor. She had her head down and was almost at her apartment door when she saw a man leaning against the wall. Her initial response was fear and an instinct to run back outside, but he turned and she felt the adrenaline turn to relief, leaving her weak at the knees.