Fraud. Malfeasance. Fraud. Violation of securities laws. Fraud.
Hedge fund manager Lancelot R. Michaud was charged with defrauding his A-list clients to the tune of several hundred million dollars.
The pundits were calling it the biggest case since Bernie Madoff.
I can’t believe they let him out on bail. I bet he used the Evanston house as collateral. Her artfully-prepared dinner churned in her stomach.
Suddenly, she needed to get as far away from the computer as possible. She shut the laptop and fled, out the back door.
She stood jacketless in the backyard, arms crossed against the cold, taking in great gulps of air until she thought her throat would freeze. Yet she could not stop. After a moment, she realized she was sobbing.
She raised her head and stared through her tears at the patch of starry sky above her. She wasn’t in trouble herself; the indictment had named only Lance. And she still had a home. The cottage was hers and hers alone – she had inherited it from her grandmother and his name had never been on it. Her SUV was paid for, but with Lance’s money. There was a chance the government might seize it in partial restitution for the money he had stolen from his clients. Almost certainly, she would lose her savings – the stocks, the money market account. Her support payments would be gone, too; Lance wouldn’t be able to make them if he was serving time in prison.
She’d had a small cash inheritance from her grandmother’s life insurance, but that was gone.
Other than the cottage, she was effectively penniless.
Of course, Lance might yet be exonerated. He had a top-notch lawyer from a big firm. He might walk free. But she doubted it, and it would be foolish to count on it. No, it would be better to prepare for the worst.
All that money. The Gold Coast condo they didn’t need. The renovations to the Evanston house. The country club membership. The vacations – the French Alps in the winter, Acapulco in the summer. His honey on the side. All the things the reporters would soon call their “lavish lifestyle.” She had never wanted any of it – that was all Lance – but she had gone along with it. Had never refused any of it. Had, in fact, enjoyed it. Now she was going to have to pay for her complacency. She and her husband would be tarred by the press with the same brush.
She had wondered where the money was coming from, but never to the point of questioning him. Never to the point of checking the books. But then, why should she? She had trusted Lance. Wasn’t marriage supposed to be based on trust?
She had trusted Jesse, too. She’d like to see the government order him to pay restitution. But first, they’d have to find him, and she had no desire to go looking for him. If she never saw the weasel again, it would be too soon.
Her teeth were chattering, and not just because of the cold.
Something glimmered in the vacant lot next to her house. Brows lowered, she wiped her face on her sleeve. It was too late in the season for fireflies, wasn’t it? And it couldn’t be fireflies, anyway. Fireflies move. This glow was stationary.
She walked to the edge of the woods and peered into the darkness. Then she began picking her way through the leaf mold – carefully, so she didn’t twist an ankle in an unseen hole.
About fifteen feet in, she stepped into a clearing and discovered a labyrinth.
Someone had cleared a circular area in the middle of the lot and set tall wooden stakes at intervals in the ground. A string made of a reflective material – like the cords on a tent, she realized – had been wound around the stakes in a pattern. She would not have recognized the pattern as readily had she not walked a similar labyrinth at a church in Evanston earlier in the year. This was not a maze to get lost in; this was a path for contemplation.
As she walked the perimeter of the design, she noticed a trail that led away from the labyrinth toward Ms. Thea and Ms. Elsie’s house. She had thought they might be responsible for the labyrinth as soon as she saw it. Her suspicions now confirmed, she used the trail to get to their yard, rather than traipsing back through the woods. Then she walked quickly home. She promised herself that she would come back the next day and ask them if it would be okay for her to use their labyrinth now and then.
She would need it. She had a lot of thinking to do.
~
Bright and early the next morning, as Thea was making breakfast, someone knocked on the front door. When she opened it, she found a bleary-eyed Julia holding their folded newspaper. “Come in, child,” she said, taking the paper from her and placing it on the footstool near the door. “What is it? Is everything all right?”
“No,” Julia said. “Everything is not all right.” She stepped inside the house and began to cry.
Thea put her arms around her for a moment. Then she stepped back and allowed the young woman to collect herself. “Would you like something to eat?” she asked gently. “I was just making myself some oatmeal.”
“No, thank you,” Julia said. “I’ve already eaten. I’ve been up for hours.”
“Forgive me for saying so, but it looks as if you hardly slept.”
Julia nodded and looked at the floor.
“Well, come and keep me company,” Thea said. “Elsie won’t be up for another couple of hours. She’s the night owl and I’m the early bird.”
But Julia was shaking her head. “I don’t want to intrude. I only came to ask you whether it would be okay for me to use the labyrinth sometimes.”
Thea relaxed a little. Maybe Elsie’s right. Maybe everything will work out, after all. “Oh, so you found it,” she said.
“Last night,” Julia confirmed. “I happened to go out in the backyard after Dave left, and saw the reflection from the ropes.”
“You didn’t go inside the labyrinth, did you?” Thea asked.
Julia looked startled at her sharp tone. “No. Why?”
“The design is special,” Thea hedged. “We don’t mind if you use it, but it’s best if one of us is there with you.”
Julia blinked several times. “I don’t understand. I’ve walked a labyrinth before. It’s not like you can get lost.”
Oh, you’d be surprised. Aloud, she said, “You’re right, of course. But as I said, this one is special. That is, it’s special to Elsie and me, so we like to be there when someone walks it. Some unusual things have happened there.”
“Like what?”
“Oh, things.” Thea went back to the kitchen. “Are you sure you wouldn’t care for some oatmeal?”
“No, thank you. I don’t really like oatmeal. Sorry.”
Thea waved off her confession as she measured water into the pan of oats. “I didn’t like it much, either, when I was your age. Tastes change as you get older.” She smiled over her shoulder as she turned on the gas under her pot. “How is Dave these days? I’ve seen him around the neighborhood, but I haven’t had much of a chance to talk with him.”
“He’s fine. We had a great time last night, talking over old times.” Julia’s smile faded. “What’s the deal with his wife, anyway? He won’t talk about it.”
“Really?” Thea stirred her cereal as it thickened. “We’ve heard she’s depressed, or maybe it was bipolar. Something, anyway. There was quite a bit of drama the last time she was out here. Something about a new medication she had just started on, but it wasn’t agreeing with her.” She rapped the wooden spoon on the edge of the pot. “I guess it’s been tough on the kids.”
Julia shook her head. “Why didn’t he just come out and tell me?”
Thea turned off the gas and spooned her oatmeal into a china bowl. “Mental illness still carries a stigma. It’s embarrassing.”
“Yeah, but we’ve been friends forever.”
“And you’ve told him every embarrassing thing going on in your life?” As Julia blushed, Thea said, “I thought not.”
“So can I use the labyrinth today?” Julia asked. “I really need to think some things over, and I think walking the pattern would help.”
Thea noted the change of subject, but chose not to rem
ark on it. Instead, she said, “Why, yes, I think we can squeeze you in. Why don’t I meet you there around ten? That will give me time to get some yard work in before we start.”
Julia smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Ms. Thea. This means a lot to me.” She gave her a one-armed hug. “See you at ten,” she said as she let herself out.
Thea heard the bedroom door open, and a yawning Elsie emerged from the hallway, her gray curls tousled from sleep. “Did I hear voices?”
“You did. You just missed Julia. She wants to walk the labyrinth.” Thea couldn’t keep the note of victory out of her tone. “She said she and Dave had a great time last night, and she has a lot to think about.”
Elsie seemed not to have heard her. She had unfolded the newspaper and was studying the front page.
“What is it, dear?” Thea asked.
“Isn’t Julia’s married name Michaud?”
Thea blinked. “I believe so. Why?”
“Her husband’s in jail. Or was. I guess he posted bail.”
“What?” Thea rose and looked over Elsie’s shoulder at the headline. “Oh, my stars,” she said in growing dismay. “It isn’t about David at all, is it?”
~
The air was crisp and smelled faintly of wood smoke as Julia left her house, the back door howling in protest as she slammed it. I have got to get someone out here to fix that thing.
Now that it was daylight, she could clearly see the labyrinth’s stakes and rope. She wondered briefly how she had missed them earlier, and then realized she had not really spent any time in the backyard since her arrival – the interior of the house had needed the most immediate attention. A brief glance around the backyard told her she would need to change her focus soon; leaves were piling up, and the few ornamental bushes that had survived needed trimming before the first snow fell.
But she had something more pressing than yard work to attend to this morning.
As she crossed to the labyrinth, she saw both Ms. Thea and Ms. Elsie step onto the path from their side. “Good morning!” she called. “I didn’t think you both would come. I’m honored.”
Ms. Elsie took her hands in both of hers. “My dear child,” she said. “My poor, dear child. I’m so sorry about what’s happened.”
Julia closed her eyes for a moment. Of course they knew. Everyone would know by now. “Thank you.” She opened them again. “It wasn’t unexpected. I was aware of the investigation.”
“Is he…” Ms. Thea seemed unable to finish.
Julia did it for her. “Guilty? Oh, yeah.” She laughed mirthlessly. “Yeah, he is definitely guilty. But he’s got a good lawyer.” She looked toward the labyrinth. “Is it okay if I start?”
“We need to prepare you first,” said Ms. Thea. For the first time, Julia noticed she was carrying a small wooden box; she set it on a tree stump and began pulling things out of it: a blue metal water bottle, a feathered fan, and a small bundle of herbs bound in red thread.
“This labyrinth,” Ms. Elsie said, patting Julia’s hands, “has some very odd properties. Have you ever heard of ley lines?”
“Lay lines…? No,” said Julia.
“They’re lines of Earth power,” said Ms. Elsie.
“Some people don’t think they’re real,” said Ms. Thea, carrying the items she had pulled from the box.
“But they are,” said Ms. Elsie. “And they are very strong here. Three of the Earth’s elements come together naturally in this place: Earth, Air, and Water.”
“The lake,” said Julia, noticing the sound of waves lapping the shore. It was part of the aural landscape of the place, like birdcalls, and the wind in the treetops.
“Yes, the lake,” said Ms. Thea. “And two ley lines cross here, beneath the labyrinth. At the crossing is Fire, and the Circle is complete.”
Julia nodded, although she could hardly believe she was going along with this. She wondered what sort of arcane ritual these seemingly nice old ladies had in store for her. It suddenly occurred to her that Halloween was not that far off, and she shivered.
“Before you enter the sacred labyrinth,” said Ms. Elsie, her voice taking on a deeper timbre, “you must be purified.”
Julia blinked at her. “I don’t have to take off my clothes, do I?”
The older women laughed. “Oh, no, dear,” said Ms. Elsie. “It’s too cold for that, and besides, you’d give Ed Starek a heart attack. No, you don’t need to be skyclad for this.”
“Skyclad?”
“Just stand still,” said Ms. Thea. She handed the water bottle to Ms. Elsie. Then she pulled a book of matches from her pocket and lit the end of the herb bundle. “It’s lavender and thyme from our garden, along with some cedar,” she explained. The combination sounded safe enough to Julia, and the burning bundle smelled good. “Hold your arms out a little.”
“It’s just salt water, dear,” Ms. Elsie reassured her. “I’m going to say a few words while I sprinkle a little bit of it on you, front and back. Then Thea will smudge you, and you’ll be ready.”
“Smudge…?”
But the women had turned away from her. Both faced north – the direction of the lake – and Ms. Elsie said something about welcoming the Earth spirits. Then they made a quarter turn, and Ms. Thea welcomed the Air spirits. Another quarter turn, and Ms. Elsie welcomed the spirits of Fire. One more turn, and Ms. Thea welcomed the spirits of Water. Julia thought it odd that they didn’t welcome Water when they faced north – after all, there was a whole lot of it in that direction – but she kept her question to herself.
“Earth and Water, bless and purify our friend Julia as she enters the sacred labyrinth,” Ms. Elsie said, circling her as she flicked droplets of water from the bottle over her.
Then it was Ms. Thea’s turn. “Fire and Air, bless and purify our friend Julia as she enters the sacred labyrinth,” she said, using the fan to push the scented smoke from the bundle toward her. “May her visions be true, and may they bring her the comfort she seeks.”
“So mote it be,” said Ms. Elsie, capping the water bottle. The two women stepped back, beaming at her. “All right, dear,” Ms. Elsie said. “You can go in now. Mind you, walk slowly. And don’t be afraid. Whatever you see in there is only in your mind’s eye – it’s not real.” The two women exchanged a significant look, as if maybe they weren’t telling her the whole truth.
She stepped to the labyrinth’s entrance and hesitated, suddenly nervous. To her left was her own house; to her right, Ms. Thea and Ms. Elsie’s cottage. She could see Mr. Starek’s house across the street through the thinning foliage. Mr. Starek himself was out of sight, for which she was absurdly grateful.
“Maybe this isn’t a good idea,” Ms. Thea murmured behind her. “It’s so close to Samhain. The veil is already thinning.”
“Maybe it’s the best idea,” Ms. Elsie replied quietly.
The conviction in her voice gave Julia the courage to step into the labyrinth.
At the moment her toes touched the path inside the ropes, everything changed.
She teetered on the edge of a precipice. A little dog nipped at her heels; she couldn’t tell whether it was trying to keep her from falling, or pushing her over the brink.
As she half-turned to try to shoo it away, movement caught her eye. She turned farther….
And she was younger, just out of high school. She stood at an airport window, watching small planes take off and land. Her grandmother was behind her, her hand on her shoulder. “See?” Grandma was saying as she pointed out a twin-engine plane coming in for a landing. “Here they come!”
The plane’s landing gear collapsed on one side at touchdown. The aircraft cartwheeled down the runway and exploded. She screamed, for she knew her parents were aboard the aircraft, and she knew they would not survive.
She turned away from the window and ran….
And was in college a year later, standing before a bulletin board outside the theater department office, checking the cast list for a play. No matter how many times s
he searched the list, ever more frantically, her name was not on it. Her dream of becoming an actress shattered. Someone near her murmured, “I guess there’s always tech crew,” but she knew that was not for her. She turned and ran….
And smacked headlong into Lance. He, too, was college-aged in this vision or whatever it was, and with just one look at him, her heart turned over. He was tall, dark, and handsome, with carefully-coiffed hair and a natural charm that pulled everyone nearby into his orbit. He held her shoulders as he set her back with easy grace and said, “Hey there, honey. Where’s the fire?” At his words, in her mind’s eye, a small plane erupted in flames. Sobbing, she turned and ran….
And was ten years older, married to Lance, and entering her first writing workshop at StoryStudio. A man across the room immediately caught her eye. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a dirty blond ponytail and a beard – completely different from her husband. His name was Jesse Vaughn, she learned, and he wanted to be a playwright. His desire resonated with the frustrated actress inside her. It seemed to her as if fate had brought them together – that maybe, at long last, she had found her soulmate. Then he said her work was shit. Devastated, she lurched from her seat and ran….
And it was a couple of years later, in Jesse’s crappy apartment in Logan Square. They had just finished making love, and she was sitting, naked, on his scratchy couch, making out a check to him for half of her inheritance. He was going to use it to start a publishing house, he said, and she would be his top editor. Part of her knew there would never be a publishing house, and that this money would go the way of all the rest of the checks she had given him – for booze, drugs, and rent for this hovel – but she was still half-convinced she could save him. Then it was too late, the check was cashed and the money gone, and she turned and ran….
And stood as if rooted in the kitchen of the house in Evanston, facing Lance as he told her with malicious glee that he was seeing someone on the side. She had known for months – it was part of what drove her to begin sleeping with Jesse – but she hadn’t wanted to believe it. She hurled Jesse’s name at him in retaliation. Furious, he raised a hand; she backed away from him and ran….
Seasons of the Fool Page 3
