“Oh!”
At that instant, a movement out in the Gardens’ roadway caught Jane’s attention. She puzzled for a second, followed by recognition. Someone was waving to her—yes, it was Dana, the young girl whose brother had been killed back in the fall, that awful tragedy.
Dana hadn’t said much that icy night but she had a presence, Jane remembered, and then Dana had asked for Jane’s help for her family.
Yes, Jane remembered, Dana and I had a good chat when we met later. I’d be happy to do more with her.
Jane smiled and waved back. “Hi, Dana,” she called as Dana approached.
“Hi, er, Jane … I didn’t know you lived here.”
Jane laughed, taking the lead. “Well, we’ve only been here two weeks. Nice to see you again, Dana. Yes, do call me Jane, please. This is my husband, Graham. Graham, Dana. Graham’s in the Army.”
“Pleased to meet you, Dana.”
“Hi.”
Jane sensed Dana’s slight embarrassment after this initial contact with the imposing figure of Graham.
“Actually, Dana, we’ve only been married a month—since May nineteenth.”
“Congratulations—that’s great.” Dana seemed impressed. “Look, I’ve gotta go now, but …”
“Come and visit with us, Dana,” said Jane, earnestly.
“Thanks, I’d love to. Bye for now.” Dana jogged away.
“Bye,” said Jane. Turning to Graham, she added quietly, “That’s the girl I told you about after that tragedy, when the two boys were killed. She’s the sister of one of them. The family lives just down the road.”
“Seems a nice girl.”
“Yes, I agree.”
They entered the townhouse. It still had that new smell to it—paint, plaster, an indefinable aroma. It was still sparsely furnished—they simply hadn’t had time to shop for much furniture yet.
In spite of their careful planning leading up to the wedding, they hadn’t bargained for that two-week trip that Graham had had to make back to the Middle East—that had really given them problems, with so much falling at the last minute on Jane’s shoulders. But the guys on the Police Force had been really helpful.
The actual wedding had been down in Windsor, because Jane’s mother was not strong enough to travel. Graham’s family had gone down from Sudbury, and Jane’s brother and his wife had joined them from Niagara. In all, a quiet affair. But because most of Jane’s and Graham’s friends and workmates were up in the Ottawa area, they had held a bigger reception for them here.
It had been a bit of a rush—Windsor one weekend, then half a honeymoon, then back to Ottawa for the reception, then off for another week together. They were glad to be in their own home, at last.
Graham was finding his new Army duties rather more demanding than they had both expected. Being a liaison officer meant just that—to liaise, to go-between, and there had been rather a lot of going. But, Jane thought to herself, the coming-backs are great.
“I have to go downstairs and see to those pants,” said Graham, standing at the top of the basement stairs.
“Go on then, you can do mine while you’re at it.” Jane grinned. “You could do my boots too.”
“Yeah, sure.” Graham grimaced as he went downstairs.
The basements of the townhouses had been rough-finished by the builder—rough-taped drywall and electrical outlets. Graham and Jane had set up one corner as their uniform storage: a simple movable armoire, some pegs on the wall, a chest of drawers, a cupboard to contain cleaning and repair materials, and, of course, an ironing board.
Jane snuggled down in her leather chair in the living room and flicked the remote to turn on the stereo. Must have one of his CDs in, she thought as sound filled the room, I don’t recognize it. Their music tastes differed, but there were overlaps. Graham was mostly into late-nineteenth to mid-twentieth-century classical music. Jane preferred musicals. But they both got a kick, literally, out of country and western.
The music drifted past Jane. Her mind was on the brief encounter they’d had with Dana. She recalled the feeling she’d had when she’d got back to her apartment that tragic night last November. How she’d felt that she was involved in some way beyond her role as a police officer. Again she felt an urge to help Dana in some, as yet undefined, way.
She heard Graham bounding up the stairs. “Ta-dah,” he exclaimed, waving her shining boots in front of her.
“Gee, thanks, hon.” She smiled. “I didn’t really expect you to.”
“That’s okay. You can do mine when I get back from the Petawawa range next weekend.”
“What a deal. Come on,” she said, standing up and slipping her arm round his waist. “Let’s get some supper on the way—oh, that reminds me, we left a bag in the car trunk. I’ll go get it.”
Jane was just closing the trunk lid when she noticed a car coming round the corner from Millerby Lane into the Gardens. It was weaving a bit, and hit the curb on the turn.
Jane automatically flipped into work mode, and watched as the car pulled into a driveway farther along the street.
Dave Adkins was stepping out of his car as he caught sight of a woman running up the road toward him. “Excuse me, sir … sir,” she was calling.
He stood still. What’s going on? he thought.
“I watched as you drove round the corner and along the road here,” the woman started as she reached the driveway. “I am a cop, but I’m off-duty, and I have no means of testing you. As a neighbour, though, I do have the duty to warn you that driving under the influence of alcohol or anything else is illegal, and dangerous. What I just saw with your erratic driving prompted me to speak to you.” The woman stood back, looking hard at Dave.
Dave was surprised, and a bit confused; he didn’t know what to say.
Jane continued. “Sir, your face is familiar. We’ve met before. Weren’t you at the funeral of those two young boys last year?”
Dave was now in a befuddled mess. Slowly his mind caught up with Jane’s questioning. “Er, yeah, I was,” he replied.
“Then, sir, I beg of you, think of the possible consequences of your actions.” Jane turned and jogged back to the Mews.
Dave picked up the bag of items he’d just bought at the 7-Eleven store by the new traffic lights at Otterbrook and Millerby and went into the house.
Sheesh! All I did was drive half a kilometre to the store and back, he thought. He put the carton of milk into the fridge, and left the rest of the items on the counter. I need a drink. He wandered into the living room, poured out a scotch, and slumped into his usual chair.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the flash of red, and then the loud bang as the front door opened. Cody and two friends barged into the house, crashing sports bags on the floor, kicking runners off their feet, and yelling at one another in loud voices.
“What the hell are you doing?” Dave blazed. He was furious.
“Just, er, coming home …” said Cody, weakly.
“Then for God’s sake, get out and come in again properly. Out, out, the damn lot of you.”
Cody looked at his friends, shrugged his shoulders, and they gathered up their stuff, slinking quietly out of the door.
Dave was now in a real mess. He walked unsteadily through the house to the rec room downstairs.
Dave woke to a shaking feeling.
“Come on, Dave, wake up, it’s seven-thirty in the morning; you slept all night down here.”
He could hear the voice, and gradually realized that Barbara was shaking him, hard. “Er, wha—?” was all he could muster.
“Come on, David, this is enough. We’ve had enough of this nonsense. You’ve got to take hold of yourself and stop this drinking, for your sake and for the rest of us.”
Gradually, he came into a semblance of consciousness. His head pounded, he felt queasy; in fact, he felt like shit. Barb was on her knees in front of him, staring hard at him, straight into his eyes. He couldn’t face her, his eyes turned away.
“Look at me, David, look at me. Do you want to destroy this family? Do you? Look at me, will you?
Dave met her eyes for a moment. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
“Just being sorry isn’t good enough anymore, David. I love you, we all love you, but something has to change—you have got to change, right now. We can’t—you can’t go on like this anymore. You are going to get up, have some breakfast if you want, and then we’ll talk. I’ve called in to work and taken the morning off. We’ve got to get you sorted out—that’s priority number one.”
Late that afternoon, with the sun low in the sky, Dave and Brutus reached the bottom of their driveway and turned right along the street. At least, Dave did. Brutus was still not used to this change in tack; they had always turned to the left, for years. Why the change now?
These last few days, Dave, in his torment, had taken to walking the dog on a different route, round the Gardens the opposite way, out onto Millerby, down to the traffic lights at Otterbrook, and over beyond the 7-Eleven. He dared not pass by Kelly’s place—he just did not know how to handle the situation, if they were to meet.
The dog quickly recovered from the mis-turn, and they set off for their evening walk.
Dave’s mind was in turmoil again. He was struggling with the incident with that cop-lady—that was not nice. He had essentially been given an ultimatum by his wife over alcohol and what it was doing to him and the family.
And there was this. What would happen if Barbara did invite Kelly round for a visit? And she was likely to do so. What was really going on? Was he imagining things—was he reading things into that stroll, that kiss, that embrace, that just weren’t there?
But I can’t go on like this, I would be bloody stupid. Sure she’s real pretty, a breath of fresh air. But it’s got to stop there—whatever was in that evening can’t go on. But what will she do? What will she think? How will she react? How did she react when she met Barbara at that accident?
He had to find out; he had to know. He just had to know, so he would know how to react, how to handle himself when this visit happened. He knew Barbara; when she had an idea like that, it always came to pass. Kelly would be visiting them. But he couldn’t face an encounter just yet.
All went well with the walk until they were coming back up past the side of the 7-Eleven to the traffic lights. Coming along Otterbrook were Kelly and the terrier. No escape—there was nothing he could do to escape. They met at the lights.
“Hi, Dave.”
“Hi, Kelly.”
Kelly had a pained look on her face. “Look, Dave, we need to talk.”
Dave nodded, uneasily.
“Dave, I want to say I’m sorry.”
“Sorry? You?” Now this really threw Dave. He had no idea what might come next.
“Yes, I truly am. I didn’t realize what I was doing to you.”
Dave was becoming more uncomfortable. What’s next? he thought.
“I was giving you wrong signals when we talked, when we went for that walk, without knowing what I was doing.”
Now Dave was really puzzled.
Kelly continued. “Dave, I found myself desperately wanting to talk with you, to be with you, to listen to what you were saying, so much it hurt at times. I really was attracted to you.”
Dave was sweating. He was so tense he could sense his pulse throbbing in his neck.
“I so wanted to be with you, to not let you go. When you hugged me, it felt so good,” she continued.
Dave could feel a tightness building in his groin. He looked at her standing there, so attractive, so vulnerable. He was lost for words, what could he say?
“Kel—” he began.
“Dave,” she continued, “you are so like my father was, your balding hair, wisps falling over your forehead, your love of the outdoors, just how you were telling me all about the history of the railroad, and everything. Oh, it was just as if …” Tears welled in her eyes. “Oh, Dave, I am so sorry.”
Dave was stunned. So he was a father figure, not a lover. Deflating in one sense, but a profound relief in another.
“Kelly, I’m sorry too. Sorry if I embarrassed you that evening.”
“But I’ve embarrassed you far more, dear Dave. I’m alone, but you, you have your wife to think of. Please, can we put this behind us and be normal, neighbourly friends? I really do enjoy your company. You will always remind me of my father—except he would have been quite a few years older!” She chuckled. “And, truly, I’d like to be a friend of your wife, too. I met her the other day—there was an accident …”
“I know. Barb told me you’d met …”
“I—I was a bit taken aback when she introduced herself, ’cause I was so worried about what I’d done to you, and how you might have taken it. But Barbara was so pleasant …”
“Kelly, Barb has said she would like to invite you round to visit. I must say, I’ve been more than a bit uptight about it, to say the least.”
Kelly put her hand on his arm. “Dear Dave, please—let me see my father through you, but let me get to know the real Dave, and Barbara too.” She flashed him a smile so warm that her teary eyes seemed to sparkle. Dave looked at her in a new light.
“Kelly, you’re on.” He looked up at the lights. “Let’s cross while the lights are green for us.”
They walked on up toward the townhouses.
“Where do you work, then?” This was a topic they hadn’t touched on before. Dave was feeling so relieved now; his world had been imploding in on him. He could handle the alcohol, he felt; he could cope with the all-pervading feeling of depression; he could resolve all the stress he had wrought in his family, he was sure; but he had had no idea how to fix this Kelly affair. Now, it was solved.
“Oh, just outside of the downtown core. I’m a receptionist at a law firm, Simpson Stocker Wyatt Pimms. I answer the phones and do some of the typing for the two junior partners.”
“Hey! Now it all comes together. I felt when we first met that I’d seen you somewhere before. Last December, two of us came to see George Simpson—now I remember your eyes and your smile as you worked the phones.”
“Yes—and I remember now thinking that that man reminds me so much of Dad.”
Dave and Brutus turned into their driveway, Brutus automatically heading to the gate of his pen.
After checking the dog’s food and water, Dave stood there, in the light of the setting sun. The air was still; overhead, the evening star was beginning to shine through the last remnants of daylight in the sky. The evening sounds of the community were subdued. But there was a strange clarity in the air.
It suddenly hit him: what a bloody stupid idiot he had been these past months. A cold shudder rippled through him, as he stood in the warm air.
What stupidity, what an idiot! Poor Barbara, and Cody, what have I put them through—hell, that’s what. And why? Why? Because of my own blindness, my own weakness, my own self-centredness.
He felt his legs crumpling; he grasped at the fence and edged himself over to the wooden bench at the side of the house. His head in his hands, tears fell down his cheeks.
Everything came crumbling down: the events, the actions, the inactions of the past months paraded through his mind. What an idiot! And Barbara, dear Barbara, she had tried so often to get through to him—but he couldn’t see, he couldn’t understand what was happening to him. And his reaction had been to become even crabbier, more cantankerous, uncooperative—and to drink more.
Another cold shudder rocked his body. I could have lost Barb—I could still lose her. Shit! He sat bolt upright. In a flash, he was heading down to the basement, two stairs at a time.
“Hi, love,” Barbara called out as she descended the basement stairs. “What are you up to?”
Dave looked up. “Doing what I should have done long ago, getting rid of this stuff.”
He was pouring the contents of a bottle of scotch down the bar-sink. Several empty bottles stood on one side of the sink, with other full bottles of vari
ous liquors lined on the other side.
“Oh, Dave.” She rushed over to him and hugged him. He hugged her hard, then held her back at arm’s length.
“I love you,” he said, tears streaming down his face.
“And I love you.” Barbara pulled him close again.
After all the bottles of liquor and beer and wine had been emptied, they sat close together on one of the sofas in the semi-light of the rec room. Dave felt he owed it to Barbara to open up on all his issues, including the Kelly business.
“Love, no matter what,” Barbara said quietly as he ended, “we’ve come through all this together. It’s history. Let’s go up to bed now, and I’ll show you how much I love you.”
- 12 -
The sun hung in the hazy July sky, with not a breath of wind to stir the leaves on the trees. The Gardens were quiet. Everyone, it seemed, was too hot to do anything energetic.
The large linden tree between the Johnson house and the Ferruccio’s cast a wide area of shade on the grass, and there had gathered most of the Gardens’ older teenagers. In fact, Dana realized, this was rather a rare event, because normally they mostly went their own separate ways—there was no unifying force among them. They went to at least three different schools, some had part-time jobs now, and somehow they did not normally ‘gel’ as a group. But the heat today seemed to have melded them together in the shade.
Dana and Tony sat there, Tony with his back up against the tree, Dana leaning against him. Jason Johnson sat cross-legged to his side of the tree. Fiona Stacey, usually a loner, had wandered over and was sprawled out on her front near Jason. Gina Ferruccio was lying on the grass, a little down the slope toward the roadway from Dana. Her brother Angelo sat on the edge of the group.
Dana’s brother, Iain, had just joined them, flumping down in an overheated heap near the kerb. “Sup?” he asked nobody in particular.
“Nothing much.”
“Whatcha doing?”
“Just sitting.”
“Hunmh.” Iain joined the demanding silence.
It was true; they were doing nothing much. Barely twenty words had been passed among them all afternoon, and few had risen above the level of the eight just exchanged. It was just too damned hot to bother to think, let alone speak. Silence reigned.
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