What's Left Behind

by Gail Bowen

  After Peter and Maisie changed out of their wedding clothes and rejoined their guests, there was a final round of hugs and tears. I was standing with Maisie and Lee when Mansell approached them. The twins both smiled, but Lee looked reluctant. Mansell kissed the bride and then, after hesitating for a moment, he kissed her maid of honour.

  “Thank you for inviting me,” he said. “I’ve known you two for twenty-seven years. It meant a great deal to me to see you walk down the aisle and marry a good man, Maisie.” One of Lee’s curls had escaped her chignon. Mansell reached over and tucked the curl back into place. As he did, the tension in Lee’s expression melted and she and Mansell grinned at each other. Then, in unison, all three groaned, “That danged hair!” As the twins and Mansell laughed at what was clearly an old private joke, I felt the warmth that, despite their differences, still existed among them.

  After Mansell walked away, I turned to Maisie. “I was dubious about the wisdom of inviting Mansell to the ceremony, but I’m glad you did. You and Lee were obviously very close to him when you were growing up.”

  “We were,” Lee agreed.

  “Politics can be brutal,” I said.

  “It wasn’t just politics,” Maisie said quickly. “It was Quinn. She’s a bad influence.”

  Lee’s headshake was barely perceptible, but it was enough to cut the conversation short. Maisie embraced her sister, murmured, “Sorry,” and then gave me a final hug. A few minutes later, the newlyweds jumped into Peter’s truck, eager to begin the next stage of their life together. For the next two weeks their life would be idyllic: shore lunches, fishing, boating, and hiking on their choice of the dozens of tiny islands that dot Jan Lake.

  Angus had a trial starting the next week so he went back to the city to prepare. Lee stayed until she’d thanked the last guest for coming, then she went into our cottage and changed into jeans and a polo shirt. She had unpinned the chignon the hair stylist had created and her untamed curly mane fell loose around her shoulders.

  “More comfortable?” I said.

  “Infinitely. You can take the girl off the farm, but you can’t take the farm out of the girl.” She breathed deeply. “Before I head out, I want to check the lake.”

  I could see the concern on Lee’s face, and I knew that Simon’s presence would always shadow her memories of this day. “I’ll go with you,” I said.

  The sun was just starting to set as Lee and I walked past the gazebo. The yellow canoe hadn’t moved. Lee glanced at her watch. “Eight-ten,” she said. “He’s been there since four o’clock. Four hours and ten minutes. As we looked out at the water, the figure in the yellow canoe lifted his paddle and the boat began to move. “He’s going home,” she said and then hesitated. “Or he’s going somewhere else.”

  I felt a frisson of apprehension. “Lee, why don’t you stay with us tonight?” I said. “It’s a holiday weekend. We can have a lazy day tomorrow.”

  Lee’s voice was tentative. “That’s a tempting offer, and I am tired. Simon showing up in that canoe touched a nerve. I don’t even want to think about what he’ll do when Warren tells him I’m getting married. Bobby offered to stay at the farm with me tonight, but if Simon arrived and found Bobby there –”

  “It would be terrible for everyone,” I said quickly. “It’s best that you spend the night here.”

  “That’s such a relief. Bobby can tell Bette our news and then drive into town and tell Piper Edwards.” Lee shuddered. “I’ll be glad when that’s behind us.”

  “Maisie told me that Piper and Bobby had been dating,” I said.

  “It was never serious,” Lee said. “At least not for Bobby. You must know Piper through city council.”

  “I do but not well,” I said. “When Zack announced he was running for mayor, he talked with a number of people. Piper was one of the first to sign on to run as a candidate for the progressive slate. She was a natural. She knew what she had to do to win and she did it. We ran a check on all the candidates running as part of the slate, and some of Piper’s real estate colleagues said she had a mean streak, but I never saw any evidence of it during the campaign.”

  “Let’s hope she keeps her cool with Bobby,” Lee said. “There’s no reason for him to drive all that way to tell Piper something that never existed is over, but Bobby is a good guy. He really is. I don’t know why it took me so long to realize that.”

  Warren called at a little after five the next morning, waking me up. “Simon’s car is gone,” he said. “He must have come some time in the night and taken off. I called Lee at the farm, but there was no answer.”

  “Lee stayed with us last night,” I said. “We should have let you know. I’m sorry.”

  “As long as she’s all right.” The relief in Warren’s voice was palpable.

  “She’s fine,” I said.

  “I wish I had that certainty about Simon,” Warren said.

  Bobby Stevens had done Lee’s evening chores and volunteered to do her morning chores as well, but mid-May is a busy time on a farm, so Lee planned to drive back to her place after breakfast.

  I’d just poured us all a second cup of coffee when the landline rang. Lawyers’ Bay was a gated community, and Milo O’Brien had come to call. I buzzed him in and within seconds the rumble of his Harley shattered the perfect quiet of the morning.

  Milo was an expert at shattering perfect quiet. He was thirty-four years old, but he seemed much younger. His wild, kinetic energy; his constant texting and tweeting; his machine-gun rat-a-tat-tat conversations; and his continual intake of Crispy Crunch bars drove Zack crazy, but Zack was smart enough to know what he didn’t know and he knew that he needed Milo.

  Zack won the mayoralty by 241 votes, and I was convinced that the ground game Milo had created played a key role in giving him the win. As soon as I saw the final results on election night, I knew that if we were going to get citizen support for our programs, we needed to keep the ground game going. Five minutes after Zack gave his acceptance speech, I asked Milo to stay in Regina and work for the new administration.

  Part of Milo’s job was to monitor all of the available media channels to spot problems so we could deal with them before they got past us. He was our goalie, and as Ken Dryden once explained, the goalie’s job is to know what’s coming next and insert himself like a stick into the spokes of a bike and stop the action.

  Lately, most of Milo’s stick-handling had involved the upcoming referendum. The campaign was heated, but Milo thrived on political debate, and as he bopped in, motorcycle helmet in hand, he was in a mellow mood. When he saw Lee, he positively beamed. “Wonder Woman,” he said. “That video you posted was wicked. And your message was killer. ‘A way of life is at stake. On June 17, vote Yes for the proposed bylaws.’ ” Milo put his helmet on the kitchen counter, took a Crispy Crunch from his pocket, and offered it to Lee. “Kudos,” he said. “You and your weird-ass chickens have gone viral and the Yes side is picking up support.”

  “And you rode all the way out here to tell us?” I said. “That was very thoughtful.”

  Milo’s long fingers tapped out a riff on the table. “Hey, it was a great day for a ride,” he said. “Too great maybe. Just outside Fort Q a cop gave me a Fast Riding Award.”

  When Lee looked puzzled, Zack translated. “A speeding ticket,” he said.

  “A small price to pay for nirvana,” Milo said sagely. “The wind booms. The bumps in the pavement rise up to meet me; the world streaks by. Riding a bike is a whole-body experience.” Milo picked up his helmet. “Speaking of, it’s time to get back on the road.” It was clearly an exit line, but when Milo’s phone rang, he answered and then motioned us to stay put.

  After he ended the call, Milo said, “Gather round, children. The CEO of Lancaster Development has words to share.”

  Zack frowned. “What’s this about, Milo? You and Quinn Donnelly aren’t exactly confidants.”

  “Right you are, big man, but Ms. Donnelly’s message comes to us indirectly. Last night Lanc
aster Development celebrated its twenty-fifth anniversary with a party at the Scarth Club. Apparently, the CEO’S speech rallying the troops against the bylaws is worthy of note.” Milo beckoned us over. “Let’s see for ourselves. A guy bussing tables shot this video and sent it to me. He’s a buddy of mine, and he works three minimum-wage jobs, so he’s not one of the ‘contributing’ members of society Ms. Donnelly values so highly.”

  Milo’s buddy appeared to have shot the video from the side and slightly behind Quinn Donnelly, but he was close enough to catch her venom. Quinn was not a natural beauty. Her jaw line was weak and her features sharp, but by her mid-forties, she had learned to make the most of what she had. Her closely tailored outfits flattered her whip-thin body; her makeup was skilfully applied, and her platinum hair was attractively tousled to draw attention to her deep-set hazel eyes.

  In her public utterances, Quinn Donnelly always appeared cool and focused, but that night she was in a room full of friends and she let loose. As Quinn spoke to the packed dining room, the crowd was hushed. She was not a dynamic speaker. There were no rhetorical flourishes, no dramatic pauses, no ingratiating asides. Her voice was emotionless and her enunciation was clipped, giving each word she spoke heightened significance.

  She began with a quick sketch of Lancaster’s history, starting with an encomium to its founder and Quinn’s mentor, Graham Meighen. As she described how, through brains, guts, and savvy political alliances, Meighen transformed his wife’s family’s small, marginally profitable construction company into a multimillion-dollar international corporation, Quinn’s eyes shone with the incandescence of the true believer.

  Her eyes hardened when her focus shifted to us – the people who in Quinn’s view had destroyed Meighen’s life and now sought to dismantle his legacy. I was first on her enemies list. “Shreve’s wife writes most of his speeches and they’re mindless pap,” she said. “Mrs. Shreve is the one who came up with the Rise and Shine campaign that tells drug dealers and other criminals they’re the most valuable resource in their community and that they can build a shining future for everyone. Meanwhile, Shreve wants to pass bylaws that would seriously impact the ability of companies like ours to generate the taxes that are already paying for the law courts where we bring the fine folk of the city’s core to justice; for the prisons where we house them when they kill each other, sell drugs to our children, or rob or vandalize our homes; and for the hospitals that save their lives when they’re too drunk or stoned to realize they’re endangering their lives and the lives of the rest of us.

  “The Shreves and the city councillors who support them have to be stopped before they destroy the city that Graham Meighen and the rest of us worked so hard to build.” Quinn then segued into disparaging the work of Citizens for Planned Growth and ended with a surprisingly vicious personal attack on Lee Crawford. When Quinn described Lee as “a slut who uses her body to get what she wants,” Milo hit Pause. “We’ve heard enough,” he said.

  Lee pressed her lips together. “It’s all right, Milo. We should know what they’re saying.”

  We listened to the end. Quinn’s closer was a call to arms. “We have a vision for this city, and it’s a solid vision. Shreve and his councillors and organizations like CPG are going to hamstring us. They have to be stopped. Do whatever it takes to defeat their proposed development bylaws on Referendum Day.”

  I turned to Lee. “There are a number of people working on the Yes side of this referendum. Do you have any idea why Quinn demonized you?”

  Lee’s answer was evasive. “We have a shared history,” she said. “It’s just unfortunate that Quinn ended up being married to Bobby’s uncle.”

  “Whatever your shared history was, don’t let her spook you,” Milo said. “Be proud, Wonder Woman. You and your Lasso of Truth are going to defeat evil.”

  Lee’s eyes were wide as she watched Milo make his exit. “Milo is a trip,” she said.

  “He is that,” Zack said. “Joanne is very fond of him.”

  “And you’re not?” Lee said.

  “I admire Milo’s skills and I’m grateful he’s on our side,” Zack said.

  I was nettled. “Not exactly a ringing endorsement for a man who works 24/7 tracking and shaping public reaction to your initiatives.”

  Zack shrugged. “It’s the truth,” he said. “You and Milo understand politics in a way that I never will. You both instinctively make the right decisions, and you enjoy each other’s company. Milo takes a huge burden off your shoulders and that means everything to me because you mean everything to me. Can we leave it at that?”

  “I guess we’ll have to,” I said.

  Lee’s smile was mischievous. “Is it safe to leave you two alone?”

  Zack wheeled over and took my hand. “It is safe, isn’t it?”

  I leaned down and kissed the top of his head. “It’s safe,” I said.

  “In that case, I’m going to move along,” Lee said. She picked up her breakfast dishes and carried them to the sink. “I have a job list waiting for me at the farm, and thanks to a good night’s sleep and Zack’s breakfast, I’m ready to tackle it.”

  Zack and I went out to Lee’s truck with her. She took out her keys and inhaled deeply. “I love the loamy smell of spring,” she said. “It’s like a promise.” When she climbed into the driver’s seat, the cobwebs of fear and anxiety that had clung to me since I saw the yellow canoe fell away. Lee was smart and capable. She and Bobby would have a solid marriage. Warren and Annie would find Simon, and we’d all make sure he had the help he needed to deal with the fact that Lee was going to marry Bobby Stevens. The universe was unfolding as it should.

  Five minutes after Lee left, Warren and Annie Weber arrived. Annie’s honey hair was in a ponytail and her scarlet lipstick matched her shorts and the poppies on Warren’s Hawaiian shirt. A festive couple, but their faces were grim. When a twenty-five-year-old blonde who manages a biker bar marries an eighty-year-old millionaire, there are certain assumptions. But Annie and Warren were a love match, and that morning as I ushered them into the living room Annie’s heart-shaped face was tense because the man she loved was dealing with a problem that was eating him alive.

  After we settled into the wicker chairs that looked out onto the lake, Warren began. “I’ve always been a straight-shooter,” he said, “but I withheld information from you because I truly hoped it wasn’t relevant. About an hour after Annie and I got back from the wedding, Simon showed up. We called Dr. Fidelak immediately, and she was with us when we told Simon about Lee’s engagement. She was a godsend. Simon was devastated. It was terrible to witness someone I love going through that kind of agony again. Anyway, Dr. Fidelak was able to give Simon medication that calmed him and she stayed with us till he slept. This morning when we discovered that Simon was missing, Dr. Fidelak convinced me that Simon’s family history is significant, so it’s time for full disclosure.”

  Annie moved closer to her husband and linked her fingers with his. “You’re the finest man I know,” she said. “You don’t deserve this.” Her voice was throaty and sensual. For a beat Annie and Warren simply gazed at each other, drawing strength for what lay ahead. It was a moment of such intimacy that both Zack and I lowered our eyes.

  Finally, reluctantly, Warren returned his focus to us. “Simon has had problems throughout his life,” Warren said. “But there have been long stretches where he was fine – not just fine but wonderful, brilliant, generous, funny – one of the best people you could ever hope to meet. I want to give my son a chance to find that part of himself again.”

  “He deserves that chance,” Zack said. “That’s why Falconer Shreve put him on medical leave. We believe in him too.”

  “I appreciate that. So does Simon,” Warren said. “I’ve known for years that Simon was afflicted with some variant of the illness that took his mother. But in both cases it was easy to ignore the truth. The image Caroline projected to the world was not that of someone with an illness.

  “She w
as an architect and a successful one. Publicly, she was strikingly confident, the woman who had it all together. Privately, it was a very different matter. She was needy, demanding. She vacillated between terrible depression and self-loathing and fury because she felt I wasn’t giving her enough attention and love. Simon was not a planned child. I didn’t believe Caroline was stable enough to be a parent. I wanted her to terminate the pregnancy – a fact she repeatedly threw in my face and in Simon’s.”

  “How terrible for all of you,” I said.

  “Caroline was a very sick woman. Watching her disintegrate was like being pelted with stones,” Warren said. “The worst part was that there were always flashes of the woman she was – smart, funny, realistic about her situation. And then the dark Caroline would take over. It was as if there were two people inside her. When the dark one took over, she hated everyone close to her, and she was determined to destroy us all. Finally, I told her I’d give her whatever she wanted or needed, but the marriage was over and I was going to raise Simon.”

  “How did Caroline react to that?” Zack asked softly.

  “She fought me, of course, but there were medical records, and by this time, many people, including our housekeeper, had seen her raging and threatening. Caroline knew there was no way a judge would award her custody. Finally, the darkness swallowed her. She hanged herself in the garage of our house in Regina.” Warren’s paused. “Simon found her. He was five years old.”

  Annie rested her head on her husband’s shoulder. She was crying and he stroked her arm rhythmically to comfort her.

  Zack rolled his chair close to the Webers. “I’m so sorry,” he said.

  “I am too,” Warren said.

  “You did everything you could, babe,” Annie said. “Nobody could have done more.”

  After that, the four of us were silent. When my phone shrilled, I took it out on the deck.

  Lee’s voice was small. “During the night someone came to the farm and killed my heritage birds – the chickens, the geese, the ducks, the turkeys, the pigeons – all of them. Bobby says the birds were fine last night, but this morning they’re dead. He’s certain they were poisoned.” Her voice broke. “Colin spent a lifetime preserving those breeds. Now they’re gone.”