The Secret of Bourke's Mansion

by Carolyn (Moyer) Swayze

  “Of course it’s for all of you,” Kate said sympathetically. “Perhaps I’m slow, but I don’t see the problem.”

  “It changed,” another said bitterly. “Everything changed when the Bourkes came. Almost immediately they began to extract things from us— because the water was on their property. We explained how we’d all built it and that there was enough for all. ‘We have the water, so we have the power,’ they’d say. At first it wasn’t much. Initially they really only took advantage of the Morgans- having them take care of them like they were servants. Mr. Bourke always threatened to dig up the water system if they didn’t do as they were told.”

  “What could we do?” Luke interjected despondently. “Me, I had nothing much to speak of. It had always been enough to live here when I earned a bit helping Mr. Courtenay. But I don’t have enough to start all over again somewhere else. We’re too old now and I guess we’re too poor, although we used to feel pretty rich.”

  Mrs. Morgan was sobbing, painful, wrenching sobs. “It took the heart right out of my Luke,” she said. “It was like he was slowly dying inside.”

  “From the others, they asked payment in money or goods. Whatever they happened to fancy, they asked for,” Mrs. Grayson volunteered.

  “But surely there would have been legal recourse for you?” Kate asked.

  “Yes, we looked into it, all right. The Bourkes owned the water rights—it was as simple as that. We could have applied for the overflow if we wanted, but as the lawyer said, all the Bourkes would have to do is put an axe to the pipes and we’d have to come up here, trespass, and carry our water. There was no sensible way around it. Left alone, the surplus water runs straight down to the sea, not the length of the island.”

  “But we wouldn’t be doing that to you,” Kate protested.

  “You say that now,” said an unknown man, “but someday, you need a little help or money and you know you have the upper hand. No one can refuse, as it would jeopardize everyone. It’s the feeling of power, I think, that goes to the head. Or someday, you lose your interest in playing pioneer over here or you want a lot of money, so you sell a few lots off the property, with water, of course, and before you know it, the Indians, why they’ve got such a little trickle that it’s a half hour filling the kettle.”

  “But how can I assure you of anything?” Kate asked helplessly.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Grev said, “and I have this suggestion to make: Suppose we formed the Garrett Island Water Society and sold the land containing the pressure system to the society for a dollar. Then, if each resident became a member of the society and paid a small amount each year to cover maintenance, the members could vote on whether or not to accept any new applications for water service.”

  Faces were incredulous with disbelief. “Would you really do that?” asked one. “Do you mean it?”

  Grev laughed. “You’ll have to ask Kate. The property will be in her name and as sole owner, the decision will be up to her.”

  Head spinning and eyes blinded with tears, she faced the expectant people. “Do you want this?” she asked. The smiling people were enthusiastically in favor.

  She continued. “I want to live here someday. I want to very much, but two grievous happenings have occurred here in addition to the other harassment. Before I commit myself to anything at all, I want some explanations.

  “The other day when I came home, I found Casey, the cat, hanging from the kitchen ceiling. I was very fond of him and it was a despicably cruel thing for anyone to do, whatever the reason. Also, my very good friend Lynn, whom I had thought to be back in Vancouver, was actually here. And she died here. Died in the attic of this house and I don’t know why she was here or why she died.”

  Casey spoke carefully, the inner tension apparent in his voice. “Kate and Grev, listen. These are good people. Please believe that. It all happened this way:

  “I recognized Lynn when she came on the ferry. I’d known her in Vancouver. Hadn’t known her as a friend but as a patient.”

  “You’re a doctor?” Kate asked in surprise.

  “Yes, and a very good one too,” said an old fellow sitting by the window. “We’ve all come to depend on him.”

  “I’m not officially practicing medicine at present,” said Casey. “I came here to think things through and by a strange stroke of fate, Lynn was a deciding factor in that decision. City life can be ugly. I began insulating myself from people and their problems. I went into medicine thinking that I would be doing battle against the diseases and deformities of nature. Instead I found that most of my work consisted of trying to repair the damage that man does to himself and others. Alcoholism, industrial accidents, child beatings, car accidents, drug abuse... It seems that you can’t protect people from themselves, but I was finding that fact of life hard to cope with. Then one day, Lynn came to me trying to wrangle a prescription for tranquilizers to help her to cope. I wouldn’t do it, but while I was lecturing her, I realized that I was no different. More and more often I had been sedating myself with drugs or alcohol. Obviously something was wrong with how I was adapting to my world. I came here. I rested for a long time until things became clear. I want to stay here where I’m needed. I know my limitations. Of course I was upset when you appeared on the scene, a threat with the potential to destroy the life-style I love and make a shambles of peoples’ lives. As a result, we all acted out of character.

  “Anyway, I wanted to talk to Lynn, to discuss what had developed in her life and to be honest about my own feelings. She wanted to talk as well, fearing that I would tell you about her drug dependency. She waited until I came that first night with Samuel. We talked and wandered through the house, partly to disturb you and partly in the hope of finding various things.”

  “I heard you that night,” Kate said. “I think it was the longest night of my life.”

  “I truly am sorry that we resorted to such tactics. Anyway, Mr. Grayson, after conferring with us all, had gone to your realty office to make the best deal we could on the property. He spoke to a young fellow there and made the offer. Your associate declined but suggested that for a price he could effectively dissuade you from staying here.”

  Grev groaned. “Well, I guess we knew that Allan was ambitious. It’s my guess that he worked through Lynn. She’d be financially pressed and know the best approach—discrediting me was a good way to start.”

  “I’m afraid I didn’t help her too much,” said Casey. “I had other things on my mind and hardly concerned myself with her drug dependency.”

  “I can’t imagine her killing the cat, no matter what state she was in,” said Kate.

  “No, she didn’t kill the cat, but she was feeling remorse and guilt over her disloyalty to you. That’s why she decided to stay on the island—so that she could level with you. She left me a note at the marina saying she was coming to tell you everything, but it seems she lost her nerve. She was likely popping a few for courage, and she must have hidden in the attic out of panic.”

  “If only I had known, I would have helped her. I would have tried to understand. She needed me and I failed her,” Kate cried despondently.

  Warm brown hands were smoothing her brow and patting her shoulders. “It’s hard to help someone if they don’t want help,” said an elderly Indian woman. “When they are not happy inside”—she touched her heart—”they turn to alcohol or pills to find peace or strength, but it doesn’t work until they are ready to try—then sometimes you can help.”

  Kate nodded in appreciation. “I hope you’ll forgive my reservations about Grev’s plan. If it’s what you want, I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

  “But you still don’t know about the cat,” said Mrs. Grayson shakily. “You must know about that. Our daughter, Kirsten, is not well... in fact, she is sometimes emotionally disturbed.”

  Kate well recalled Kirsten’s tentative manner and Sonya’s gentle references to her. “Yes, I’ve seen her. She’s beautiful.”

  “Yes, ou
r beautiful girl. And she’s getting better, Casey says, so much better. Her trouble is because of our life in the old country. It was not a quiet life. So many functions to attend to, traveling, political tensions. She loved our happy, secluded life here on the island, but she sensed the tension and thought that you were bringing the good life to an end. She lashed out at you in such a hostile way.” Mrs. Grayson sobbed softly. “She’s so sorry now.”

  “It was a setback, a temporary relapse,” said Casey. “I’m certain that she’ll one day soon be completely well and strong.”

  They were all quiet then, lost in their own thoughts, until Sonya said, “I think Kate and Grev are entitled to know what motivated all of us. I feel they should know who and what their neighbors are.”

  “I’ll tell you right now,” said Luke Morgan. “I did several things I’m ashamed of. I took money twice without fixing the furnace and before that* I took a trunk from this house. I took it home, hoping that something in it would prove to be of value. We needed something to survive, but I never thought I’d stoop to stealing.”

  “I think we all did things that were out of character,” said Fred Grayson. “This house contained many things of value belonging to all of us, and we very deliberately set out to get them. Also, I would never have thought that any of us could be as cool and cruel as we were to Kate. I was desperate, too,” he said softly.

  “We had escaped from our home country, where I was a high official in the government before a military takeover. We were exhausted from politics, disillusioned. But here we were rejuvenated. A little store, a very quiet life. Rest for Kirsten. We could write our memoirs, paint, and be a family together in a way we never dreamed possible. But we were always on our guard. Even though we had changed our name, we had the constant fear of being recognized and being exposed to publicity.”

  “I once thought there was something familiar about you,” admitted Grev. “I realize now that I saw you on television. Don’t worry about our exposing you—you’ve been through enough.”

  “I think we should try to explain as well,” said Samuel. “We shared the common problem of water and exploitation, of course. However, I came back to this house time and time again looking for something I never could find. I know that I frightened you, but I didn’t want certain things to leave the island. Years ago, my grandfather, noting the dwindling population and the loss of interest in our cultural heritage, became afraid for our history, the things that have been in the band for many years. There was a lucrative market at the time for ceremonial masks and the like in the city. He thought that some members of the group just might be tempted to sell, so he took them to Mr. Courtenay for safekeeping. The Bourkes never mentioned them and I always hoped that they hadn’t found them, but I suppose they did sell them. I had to find out, though.”

  “But everything is here,” Kate exclaimed happily. “I’m so glad someone cares about the collection. I felt such a responsibility worrying about how to deal with it.”

  “Where?” they asked in unison. “We’ve searched countless times.”

  Kate opened the closet door with a flourish. “Follow me.”

  There were tears of relief in many eyes as they settled back by the fire. A sense of completion and contentment was evident.

  The mournful howling of a dog pierced the companionable silence. “I reckon that old dog is the only one to mourn the Bourkes,” said Luke.

  “Yes,” agreed Mrs. Morgan, “dogs are loyal that way.” Her remark was punctuated by a loud knocking at the door. Grev went to answer it and was followed back into the room by two very wet R.C.M.P. constables.

  “We’re looking for a Mr. Percival Peters,” one said sternly. “We understand that he may have been kidnapped.”

  “But how did you know?” they asked in surprise.

  “Apparently he failed to keep an important appointment. His secretary was certain that kidnapping could be the only explanation.”

  Kate and Grev burst out laughing.

  “I only lost my way in the fog,” said Percival Peters. “And speaking of tea, I think we’d all enjoy a cup of the very best!”

  Kate lay very still, unwilling to leave the safe and welcome comfort of sleep. For the first time in a week, her brain was not racing along on the precipice of fear. How lovely it was to be relaxed! How lovely not to be looking, listening, constantly on guard for unknown persecutors. She hadn’t thought she would ever be so totally at ease again. Even the furnace was humming quietly, blowing comforting wafts, of warm air into her room with blessed certainty. Grev was a certainty as well. She smiled sleepily. “I’ll marry him, of course,” she said aloud.

  A warm, calloused hand was placed carefully over hers. She opened her eyes and stretched slowly, luxuriantly. He looked down at her and said softly, “But he hasn’t asked you yet.”

  “He’s just been waiting for the right moment,” she said. “I’m ready any time you are.”

  He dutifully knelt by her side and took both of her hands into his. He spoke softly, his face tender.

  “Kate, I love you. I’ll make you so happy, I promise. Please marry me.”

  Her eyes filled with tears as she sat up and pressed herself to his chest, holding him tightly. He stroked her hair, buried his face in it, rocking her gently.

  “I thought you’d never be asking,” she said at last, lapsing into the lilting voice of her childhood

  Carolyn Swayze is a former lawyer and an active literary agent. Find her at http://www.swayzeagency.com/. She is also the author of Hard Choices, a biography of Tom Berger.