What's Left Behind

by Gail Bowen

  Maisie’s bridesmaids had kicked off their pumps and were tossing a Frisbee around with Peter’s groomsmen. As the game heated up, some of the more adventurous guests joined the wedding party. I was watching them when Maisie approached me. She pointed out a solidly built man with a sandy brushcut and a ruddy complexion who had ditched his suit coat and was running for the Frisbee with competitive zeal. Maisie called to him and he stopped, waved, and gave her a smile that was as wide as the prairie sky.

  “That’s our neighbour Bobby Stevens,” Maisie said. “When Lee and I were growing up, he was our best friend. He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s about to win the lottery.”

  “You’re going to have to run that one by me again,” I said.

  Maisie’s eyes danced. “Bobby has loved my sister forever, and five minutes ago she told me that she’s finally ready to marry him.”

  “And you’re pleased,” I said.

  “I’m ecstatic,” Maisie said. “Bobby’s terrific. He and Lee want the same things from life – kids, farming, life in the community they grew up in. They’ll have a good marriage.”

  “Do you think seeing you and Peter so happy made Lee realize that Bobby was ‘the one’?”

  Maisie averted her eyes. “Bobby isn’t ‘the one,’ Jo. Lee’s been honest with him about that. But Bobby says he’s in love enough for both of them. They’ll make it work.”

  For the second time that day Auden’s lines about the more loving one flashed through my mind. The images of Simon, alone on the lake consumed by his impossible dream, and of Lee, marrying a man with whom she wasn’t in love, filled me with an ineffable sadness.

  Maisie picked up on my mood change. “Jo, Lee is fine with this. When she told me about her decision, she said, ‘It took a while, but I finally realized that I should cherish what I’ve been given.’ ”

  “Your sister’s a wise woman,” I said.

  “She is,” Maisie said. “And she has a good heart. After everything she’s been through with Simon, she’s still concerned about how he’s going to take the news. Lee thinks that before her engagement becomes general knowledge, Warren should tell his son. There’s no way to cushion the blow, but Lee feels that if Simon’s doctor was nearby, she might be able to help. Could you and Zack talk to Warren?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good. Lee and Bobby want this kept quiet until Bobby has a chance to tell his mother and Piper Edwards.”

  I was taken aback. “Piper Edwards, the city councillor from Ward 4?” I said. “Were she and Bobby …?”

  “They dated on and off for the past eighteen months,” Maisie said, “but they were never a serious romance. On Bobby’s side, the relationship was casual, but I gather Piper was doing everything she could, short of hiring a skywriter, to convince Bobby they should make the relationship permanent. Piper’s a spitfire, and Lee would be happy if Bobby left well enough alone, but he’s a gentleman and he feels he should talk to Piper before the news goes public.”

  “So the engagement is under wraps until Lee and Bobby make it official.”

  “Exactly.” Maisie’s attention had shifted to the area behind me. “And we settled this just in time,” she said. “The mother of the groom-to-be is looking our way, and we should go over and say hello.” Maisie waved to a handsome, silver-haired woman, and we began walking towards her. “When Lee and I were growing up, Bette Stevens was like a mother to us. She taught us how to clean out a poultry pen, plant a garden, and can Saskatoon berries.” Maisie’s lips curved towards a smile. “The womanly arts for Saskatchewan rural women.”

  “Bobby’s mother will be getting a daughter-in-law in her own image,” I said. “She must be over the moon.”

  Up close, Bette was impressive, with flawless skin, arctic-blue eyes, and a ready smile. She wore stilettos and a sleeveless teal dress that showcased her enviably toned upper arms. She did not look like a woman who’d ever cleaned out a poultry pen. When Maisie introduced us, Bette’s face lit up. “I’ve met your son, of course, Joanne. Last week one of our cows was having problems calving, and Peter stepped in. I’m really pleased to meet you.”

  Bette’s voice was deep, and her handshake firm. Maisie smiled at her fondly. “You look lovely, Bette. It’s good to see you again. Lee was just saying the other day that it’s been too long since the three of us had a real visit.”

  “These days I keep track of Lee through the media,” Bette said. “She’s everywhere.”

  I noticed the edge in Bette’s voice. So did my new daughter-in-law. “Protecting rural life is a cause Lee believes in,” Maisie said.

  “So do I,” Bette said. “But many families, including mine, are divided by the issue. The wounds from these political battles run deep. My brother has stopped coming to the farm for Sunday dinner. He and his wife, Quinn, are opposed to CPG, Quinn bitterly so, and if Mansell even says a word against CPG, Bobby’s on the attack. It would be so much easier for us all if Lee just kept a lower profile.”

  Maisie draped her arm around Bette’s shoulder. “You know my sister,” she said. “She’s never walked away from a fight. Now come on, it’s my wedding day, let’s forget politics and just remember the good times.”

  Bette’s face softened. “There were so many,” she said.

  “Especially when Colin was alive,” Maisie said. Bette stiffened. Maisie reached out to touch her arm. “I’m sorry, Bette. I wasn’t thinking.”

  “What’s done is done,” Bette said. “No matter how much we wish we could change it. We have to hold on to what we can.”

  CHAPTER

  3

  Except for the presence of the yellow canoe at the edge of the bay, the afternoon was perfect. But the canoe never moved; neither did the man sitting in it. The newlyweds had a flight to Winnipeg at seven the next morning, plus another flight and a long drive to get to their honeymoon destination of Jan Lake. They had a big day ahead of them, so before the sun began dipping towards the horizon the caterers whisked away the leftovers and reconfigured the chairs and tables to create a space for dancing. After some urging from Zack, Maisie and Peter had chosen Bill Evans’s “Waltz for Debby” as the music for the bride-and-groom dance. Peter was six foot one and his chin grazed Maisie’s forehead. As they danced under a cottonwood tree the sun shone through the new green leaves, bathing them in dappled light – lovers from a painting by Monet – but the moment that would stay with me forever came next.

  Lee had taken the microphone from the deejay. “This is the time when the bride traditionally dances with her father,” she said. “Maisie and I barely remember our parents. We were six years old when the accident happened, and our parents’ best friends, Colin and Fiona Brokenshire, agreed to raise us. Fiona wasn’t into parenting, but Colin stayed the course. I’d give anything if he could be here today, but he’s not. Now there’s just Maisie and me.

  “So this is a dance for the ones who are left. It’s called ‘For Good’ from the musical Wicked. It’s about two women who change each other’s lives. Some of you will see significance in the fact that the two women are witches: one is Elphaba, the Wicked Witch of the West, and the other is Glinda, the Good Witch of the South. You can decide who’s who.” Lee smiled at the laughter and held out her arms to her sister.

  The deejay played the Kristin Chenoweth and Idina Menzel version of “For Good.” As I listened to the two soaring female voices sing about how they had changed each other’s lives and watched Maisie and Lee, two confident and beautiful women, dancing on the soft grass, I had to choke back the tears. Zack and I had taken Taylor to see Wicked and I knew that “For Good” is Elphaba and Glinda’s farewell. After that moment, they will never meet again.

  Zack moved closer to me. “Are you all right?”

  I tried a smile. “Just being the mother of the groom,” I said. But it was more than that. The wedding had been everything Peter and Maisie hoped it would be, and the gazebo draped in magnolias was beyond beautiful. But like an Alex Colville painting, the yello
w canoe on the bay had the cool menace of the unknown, and as the guests applauded Maisie and Lee’s star turn, I remained frozen.

  Zack wheeled close and broke the spell. “I gave the deejay twenty bucks to play the Beach Boys’ ‘God Only Knows,’ ” he said. “It’s our song. Would you rather dance or smooch?”

  “These shoes are killing me,” I said. “Let’s just smooch and watch the dancers.”

  And so we smooched and watched. When Bette Stevens waltzed by with her brother, Mansell Donnelly, I tensed. For years Mansell had been a loyal lieutenant of Graham Meighen. The year before the civic election, Mansell resigned from Lancaster and with Graham’s blessing set up a consulting firm and ran for city council in a ward that had always been solidly behind Lancaster’s handpicked candidates. He won. It was an open secret that Mansell was Lancaster’s choice to reclaim the mayor’s chain of office, and since being sworn in, he had done everything he could to undercut Zack’s administration.

  I touched Zack’s arm. “If seven months ago, someone had told me that Mansell Donnelly would be dancing at our son’s wedding, I would have asked what they were smoking.”

  Zack grinned. “Maisie apologized to me a dozen times for inviting him, but apparently Mansell was like an uncle to the twins when they were growing up and Maisie couldn’t bring herself to leave his name off the list.”

  “And now you’re number one on Mansell’s hit list,” I said. “The capricious nature of fate.”

  Zack took my hand. “You know the importance of keeping the door open in politics. Tomorrow we might need Mansell’s help or he might need ours.”

  “What have you been smoking?” I said. The song ended. Bobby Stevens approached his mother, and Mansell made a beeline for me. “If he asks me to dance, I’ll throw up,” I said.

  Zack smiled broadly. “Remember The Godfather,” he said. “No Sicilian can refuse any request on his child’s wedding day.”

  Mansell was still a few metres away, but he was already extending his arms to me. I gritted my teeth. “We’re not Sicilians,” I said, and then I moved to embrace my dance partner.

  Mansell was a big man, tall and fleshy with the same silver hair and arctic-blue eyes as his sister. The cologne he was wearing had a pleasant mossy scent. When he took me in his arms, I didn’t shudder. Neither did he. “It’s a beautiful wedding,” he said. “And you look particularly lovely, Joanne.”

  “Thank you. You look very handsome yourself. There’s something about a man in a summer suit that’s very appealing.”

  “I’m glad I please you.” His gaze was piercing. “I had a reason for asking you to dance.”

  “I assumed you did.”

  “My wife wanted me to convey her regrets that she wasn’t able to attend the wedding. She had another commitment.”

  “It’s a busy time of year,” I said.

  “That’s very gracious. Joanne, Quinn had another message for you.” He moved closer and lowered his voice. “She wanted you to know that from now on Slater Doyle will be heading up Lancaster’s campaign against the development bylaws Zack’s proposing.”

  “Was Satan unavailable?”

  Mansell frowned. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe to Satan. Mansell, I don’t get this. After the hash Slater Doyle made of your candidate’s re-election campaign, I thought Lancaster would hang him out to dry.” Then the penny dropped. “But Quinn has hung him out to dry, hasn’t she? Slater Doyle is desperate. He’ll do whatever Quinn tells him to do. He’ll take all the risks and if Lancaster’s referendum campaign blows up in his face, he’ll take the fall. Slater will be finished once and for all, but Quinn will live to fight another day.”

  Mansell made a moue of annoyance. “You disappoint me, Joanne,” he said. “I thought you were an idealist, but it turns out you’re a cynic.”

  “Am I wrong?”

  Mansell chuckled. “Time will tell,” he said. We finished our dance in silence. When the music stopped, Mansell gave me a courtly bow, thanked me, and walked away.

  Zack groaned when I broke the news about Slater Doyle. “So Quinn Donnelly has chosen a reckless, damaged man to lead the campaign of our chief opposition,” he said. “This does not bode well for civil discourse.”

  “No,” I said. “The shit is well on its way to hitting the fan. But there’s nothing we can do about it. Let’s just be grateful Quinn didn’t come to the wedding and deliver the news about Slater personally.”

  “Agreed. Quinn gets under my skin. When she drops in on city council meetings, she sits right in my line of vision so she can stare daggers at me.”

  “Next time Quinn tries that, go full bore. ‘Is this a dagger which I see before me? The handle toward my hand. Come, let me clutch thee. I have thee not, and yet I see thee still.’ ”

  Zack chortled. “I haven’t thought of Macbeth since high school.”

  “St. Bartholomew’s did the Scottish play when I was in Grade Thirteen.”

  “And you played Lady MacBeth?”

  “I was the prompter.”

  Zack took my hand and smiled. “Then and now making sure everything runs smoothly.”

  It was a nice moment, but it was followed by a vexing one for Zack.

  As Taylor and Declan Hunter danced by, bodies close, eyes closed, Zack’s smile faded. After years of friendship, our daughter and Margot’s stepson were now a romance, and Zack had taken to harrumphing.

  “You’re going to have to get used to this,” I said. “Taylor’s sixteen and a half, and Declan’s a terrific young man.”

  Zack was grim. “I’m working on it,” he said.

  “I know you are,” I said. “And you’re not the only who’s finding it difficult to face facts. Look over there.” Zack followed my gaze.

  Margot and Brock were standing by the deejay, holding up Lexi and Kai so they could watch the deejay at work. All four were intent. Margot and Brock made a handsome couple, and they were devoted to Lexi and Kai. I knew Margot was in love with Brock, but Brock was gay, and he was still in love with his ex-boyfriend, who, irony of ironies, was married to Slater Doyle. “Falling in love with the wrong person can be heartbreaking.”

  Zack took my hand. “We were very lucky, Jo.”

  “I never stop being grateful,” I said.

  “Neither do I,” he said.

  Across the lawn, Lee and Bobby were dancing barefoot. Shoeless, they were the same height, and they were laughing, clearly easy in each other’s arms.

  “It’s good to see Lee having fun,” I said.

  “Her dance partner is certainly happy,” Zack said. “He looks as if he’s won the lottery.”

  “Maisie used that same phrase earlier when she told me that Lee has agreed to marry the man she’s dancing with. His name is Bobby Stevens. The twins grew up with him, and apparently he’s been in love with Lee for years.”

  Zack frowned. “This is going to be devastating for Simon,” he said.

  “I know,” I said. “So does Lee. She wants us to tell Warren, and she’s hoping he can do something to cushion the blow.”

  “Nothing will be able to cushion that blow,” Zack said. “I checked a few minutes ago. Simon’s still out on the bay in his canoe. It must be excruciating for him to watch Lee dancing with another man. I don’t think he’ll get over this, Jo.”

  The reception continued to follow the well-worn grooves of wedding receptions from time immemorial. Angus’s toast to the bride referred too often to Maisie’s prowess as a lacrosse player, but it was affectionate and funny. Lee’s toast to Peter was light-hearted, but in a poignant moment at the end, she said, “Take good care of my sister. She’s all I have.” When Bobby Stevens leaned close and whispered in her ear, Lee’s face softened with pleasure.

  As Maisie positioned herself to throw her bouquet, it was apparent that the bridal calla lilies were intended for Lee. However, Maisie’s lacrosse teammates were competitors who instinctively jumped for the prize. When two of the women
collided and lost their balance, Taylor reached from behind them and caught the bouquet.

  Angus gave her the high-five sign, and Taylor and Declan exchanged a private smile. Luckily, Zack had gone up to the house for a bathroom break so he missed the moment.

  Mieka came over to me. “So is Declan the one?”

  “He’s already like family,” I said. “I think for Taylor that’s part of the appeal. Professionally, she’s starting to cope with art dealers, collectors, and people who want to use her art commercially. Zack’s there to guide her through the contracts, but Taylor is determined to learn the business.”

  “That’s a pretty high-powered world for a sixteen-year-old,” Mieka said.

  “It is,” I agreed. “I think that’s why Taylor wants to keep her private life safe and uncomplicated.”

  “And her relationship with Declan is both,” Mieka said.

  “He and Taylor have known each other for years, and they’re good together,” I said. “Zack worries that Taylor’s too young to be involved, but if she were dating a slew of boys, he’d be worried about that too.”

  “I am not looking forward to my daughters’ dating years,” Mieka said. “However, since I’m planning not to allow the girls to leave the house with boys till they’re thirty-five, I don’t have to deal with that today.” She scanned the crowd. “But I do have to round up Madeleine and Lena and get back to the city. We’ve been invited to a Victoria Day picnic tomorrow – very elegant: dresses, gloves, and fascinators.”

  “Wow!” I said. “Madeleine and Lena with fascinators. Take plenty of pictures.”