by Gail Bowen
“Could we go to the old graveyard, Rose? Please. There’s something I want to check.”
Rose craned her neck around so she could look at Gracie face to face. “Whatever do you need to check out there?”
“It has to do with our Inuksuit,” Gracie said.
“Top priority,” Rose said dryly. She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got time for a quick trip.”
Taylor groaned. “I hate cemeteries.”
Isobel played peacemaker. “I do too, but this one is neat in a tragic sort of way.”
“Well, okay,” Taylor said.
Rose and I exchanged glances. “Fine with me,” I said. The vote was in. We were on our way.
Like all very old cemeteries, Lake View had an elegiac charm, but it possessed something more rare and valuable in cottage country: it was waterfront property. On the open market it would have fetched the proverbial king’s ransom, but respect for the dead or fear of public outcry had kept speculators at bay, and Lake View looked much the same as it must have looked when it opened its gates more than a century before. The girls scampered down to the beach and, after some excited pointing and gesticulating, they resolved whatever question had drawn them to the shoreline and wandered back into the cemetery proper. Rose and I were walking among the graves too, and I wondered how the girls were reacting to these reminders of a past when entire families were wiped out by scarlet fever and brides not much older than the girls themselves died in childbirth.
We stopped by a grave that was overgrown with weeds. Rose pulled the weeds up and shook the dirt off them.
“Is someone you know buried there?” I asked.
“No,” she said. “I just hate an untidy grave.” Rose took a plastic Safeway bag from her pocket and dropped the weeds in. “Compost,” she said. She cleared her throat. “I want to apologize to you about Betty,” she said. “I know she was on you like a hawk on a mouse, but I’m the one who should be blamed. My sister had a right to know what was going on with Lily.”
“What is going on with Lily?” I asked. “Rose, I wouldn’t be asking this if it wasn’t important. Taylor told me that Lily was coming back because she had nowhere else to go. Is her relationship with Alex Kequahtooway over?”
Rose looked at me in amazement. “That relationship will never be over, but it’s not what you think. It’s not a man-woman thing. They’re like one person, one blood.”
“Betty told me Alex was Lily’s protector after her mother died.”
Rose made no attempt to hide her anger. Obviously, the wound I had touched was still fresh. “Did Betty tell you people in town blamed Gloria for what happened? They said she must have led the doctor on. They called her a squaw and a whore and worse.”
“And Lily heard it all.”
“Yes. And every day she had to watch her mother climb that hill, atoning for sins she never committed.”
A breeze came up and rustled the grasses along the lake. Voices from the dead.
“Lily never got over it, you know.” Rose thumped her heart with her hand. “Something broke in here. She should be happy – nice husband, wonderful daughter, good job, beautiful houses – but she isn’t.”
“The night of the fireworks, Gracie asked Blake why her mother couldn’t just see how nice everything was.”
“Lily does see how nice everything is,” Rose said. “That’s the problem. She can’t believe she deserves a good life. So when things are going good, she unravels them, like that Penelope in the Greek story. Did you ever read that story?”
“Not since grade nine,” I said. “It was a long time ago.”
Rose laughed. “Longer ago for me, but I never forgot it. Penelope’s husband went away and all these men wanted to marry her. She was weaving something, I don’t remember what, but she told the men she couldn’t get married until she’d finished her weaving. So the men waited and waited. They didn’t know that every night Penelope went to her room and ripped out her weaving and every morning she started over.”
“You think that’s what Lily’s doing with her life?”
“I know it. My sister always tries to get me interested in romance novels. I’ve read a few, but all those happily-ever-afters just don’t ring true to me. Those Greek stories rang true – that’s probably why I still remember them after sixty years.” Rose squared her shoulders. “Would you mind herding up the girls? There are some graves I’d like to check on.”
“You have family here?”
“Everyone around here does. My parents. The aunt I’m named after. Two of my brothers. More cousins than you can shake a stick at, and, of course, Gloria.”
“I didn’t realize you and Gloria were related.”
“We’re not – at least not by blood. But on this reserve you don’t have to share a family tree to be considered family.”
As soon as we got back, the girls marched off to work on their Inukshuk. Unencumbered by the obligation to leave signposts for future generations, I went back to the cottage. When I opened the front door, the heat hit me like a wave. The Hynds had not believed in air conditioning. The memory of Betty, cool and fragrant, propelled me. I turned on the ceiling fan, found a roomy cotton nightie in my drawer for the nap I needed, and made my way to the shower to wash away a morning of dust and melancholy. The phone was ringing when I stepped out. I grabbed a towel and ran to answer.
Zack’s voice was teasing. “So were you out back milking the chickens?”
“Nope. I was just getting out of the shower …”
“That mental image may just get me through the rest of the day.”
“Troubles in your kingdom?” I said.
“Well, let’s see. The courthouse air conditioning fried itself this morning, so the building is hotter than hell. And the Crown is cleaning my clock. Apart from that, everything’s swell.”
“Come back to Lawyers’ Bay. I’ll let you sit next to the fan and score all the points.”
“Best offer I’ve had all day,” Zack said wearily. “I’ll go back in there and throw myself on the mercy of the court.”
I wasn’t up to Virginia Woolf, and Harriet Hynd’s library was short of trashy novels, so I chose a worthy book on birds of the Qu’Appelle Valley and was asleep before I turned the first page. I woke with a post-nap sense of well-being. It was three o’clock. I walked out to the road and looked towards the gazebo to check on the girls. They were toiling away in the mid-afternoon heat. Feeling guilty that I had been cool and lazy all afternoon while they worked, I sliced a loaf of banana bread, filled a Thermos with lemonade, dropped plastic cups and napkins into my beach bag, and went to assess their progress.
The girls were ready for a break. The Inukshuk was complete, but the wheelbarrow was full of rocks and more were strewn about the sand. Discovering the precise combination of stones that would fit the terrain and stack on top of one another without falling had proven difficult. Flushed with heat and effort, the girls made for the shade of the gazebo. It was the first time I’d been in the gazebo since the night Chris Altieri died, and the memories of Chris’s sadness and of Zack’s subtle menace that evening were sharp-edged and unsettling. Oblivious to anything beyond the moment, the girls poured lemonade, wolfed banana loaf, and discussed the engineering problem with which they’d been wrestling.
“When we were at the cemetery, we noticed that this arm of Lawyers’ Bay was right across the lake,” Gracie said. “We thought it would be neat to build this Inukshuk with a sight hole that pointed towards that huge cottonwood tree at the edge of the cemetery.”
“My father says that, judging from its size, that tree must have been there forever,” Isobel said.
Gracie rolled her eyes. “I thought we were going to be here forever trying to get the angle right,” she said. “This is the third time we’ve had to take down what we’ve built and start again, but I think we’ve got it. Maybe you’d like to have a look, Mrs. Kilbourn.”
“I’d be honoured,” I said.
The girls came with me a
s I walked out to the Inukshuk and peered through the sight hole.
“Third time’s the charm,” I said. “You’ve got it.”
They barely had time to exchange high-fives before we heard the squeal of brakes and the slam of a car door behind us. All day I had been carrying an image of Lily Falconer as frightened and vulnerable, a broken child who grew into a damaged adult. The wrathful woman who exploded out of the front seat of her Jeep and ran towards us was a shock.
Lily’s face was contorted with rage and her voice was acid. “Put those rocks back,” she said. “You don’t know what you’re destroying.” She didn’t give the girls a chance to obey or explain. Instead, she went to the Inukshuk and ripped out a flat stone from the base. Within seconds, the meticulously planned and executed structure collapsed.
Clutching her prize, Lily dropped to the beach and began exploring the support under the gazebo. She was desperate, as if she had to slide the rock into place before everything fell apart. She narrowed her focus on her daughter.
“Where did you take this from, Gracie?”
The colour had drained from Gracie’s face. Her freckles looked painted on, like a doll’s. I was afraid she was sliding into shock. I stepped between Lily and her daughter. My hands were shaking, but my voice was steady. “No one destroyed anything, Lily. We bought the rocks in Fort Qu’Appelle. I drove the girls in myself to get them.”
Lily looked at me with loathing. “It’s so easy for you to be the good one,” she said. Her comment stunned me. So did the fact that she was still holding the rock she had ripped from the Inukshuk. For a moment it seemed entirely possible that she would hurl the rock at me. Instead, she dropped it on the beach, walked back to her Jeep, threw it into reverse, and sped off.
Gracie watched her mother’s car disappear from sight. “Welcome home, Mum,” she said. Then she picked up the stone her mother had dropped, placed it back where it belonged, and began patiently to restore the Inukshuk.
I stayed with the girls while they rebuilt what had been destroyed. Without discussion, they realized the importance of their task, and they worked silently and deliberately. Finally, it was done.
One by one the girls checked the sight hole, then Gracie nodded to me. “Your turn,” she said.
I stared across the lake at the graveyard. When I spotted the cottonwood tree, I said, “Better than ever. Why don’t we call it a day and go home?”
Gracie’s smile was battle-weary. “Good plan,” she said. “But can I go to your home, not mine?”
CHAPTER
12
Not long after the girls had settled down with a video, Rose appeared at our door.
“I’ve come for Gracie,” she said.
“She’s in the living room with Taylor and Isobel watching a movie,” I said. “Before you get her, we should probably talk for a minute. There was … an incident.”
Rose stepped inside, closing the door behind her. “Lily told me,” she said. “How bad was it?”
“Pretty bad,” I said.
Rose’s small body sagged with defeat. “More unravelling.” She took a deep breath. “I’d better get my girl, see what we can salvage.” She frowned, seeming to turn something over in her mind. “Do you think it would be easier for Gracie if Taylor and Isobel came back with her? I could give them all dinner.”
“Makes sense to me,” I said. “When in doubt, proceed as if life is going on as usual.”
Not long after Rose and the girls left, Zack drove in. I walked out to the driveway to meet him. He was pale and clearly exhausted.
“Bad day?” I asked.
He grimaced. “You don’t want to know.”
“Would a large gin and tonic help?”
“I’m not certain,” Zack said. “But I’m willing to give it a try.”
We took our drinks out to the porch, where there was at least the chance of a breeze. The scent of nicotiana, heady and seductive, drifted through the screened windows.
Zack sipped his drink and sighed contentedly. “On the drive back I was thinking about how nice it is to have someone to come home to.”
“Whoa, there,” I said. “What’s my favourite colour?”
He laughed. “You don’t think I know enough about you to move in?”
“I don’t think we know enough about each other to pass a couples’ quiz in Cosmopolitan magazine.”
“We can remedy that,” Zack said. “After the Friends of Clare Mackey leave tonight, come sit on my deck. We’ll watch the sunset – no sex, just the sharing of information. What do you say?”
“I’ve never been a big fan of either-or.”
“Neither have I. So let’s do both. Now, how was your day?”
“About as grim as yours,” I said. My account of the scene with Lily was brief, but I didn’t gloss over the punch-in-the-stomach gratuitous ugliness of Lily’s attack.
Zack was visibly shaken. “How did Gracie take it?”
“She was stunned, of course. She was trembling and so pale that I thought she might be on the verge of shock. Lily either didn’t notice or didn’t care. Her only concern was where the rocks for the Inukshuk came from.”
“Why would it matter?” Zack said. “The kids showed me what they’ve done. It looks like good work to me.”
“I agree,” I said. “And if there’s a happy ending to this story, it’s that Gracie didn’t let her mother destroy what she and the other girls made. As soon as Lily left, Gracie started building again.”
Zack’s smile was faint. “Way to go, Gracie,” he said.
“Kids have amazing resources,” I said.
“But no one’s resources are inexhaustible,” Zack said. “Lately, Blake has been running on empty.”
“There aren’t many things more draining than a bad marriage,” I said. “Lily’s clearly miserable. Why doesn’t Blake just accept the truth?”
Zack shrugged. “He’s in love with her, and once in a while she loves him back.”
“And that’s enough for him.”
“I guess it is. I know he’s absolutely faithful to her.”
“I underestimated him,” I said. “When I met Blake, I didn’t like him. I had him pegged as a ladies’ man.”
“How did you have me pegged?”
“As the prince of darkness,” I said.
“So you were wrong on both counts.”
“Was I?”
Zack laughed. “Probably not entirely. But I have the rest of the summer to convince you that you were wrong about me.” He finished his drink and placed the glass on the wicker table.
“Can I get you a refill?”
“Thanks, but no. I spent most of the lunch hour talking to my client, then I had an errand to run. I forgot to eat.”
“You should have said something. I’ll make us some sandwiches. Is ham okay?”
“Ham is perfect. I’m starving, and the prospect of going out to a restaurant does not appeal to me.”
“Can’t you cook?”
“Can’t even boil an egg.”
“Is that the truth or a ploy?”
“A ploy,” he said. “I’d do anything to get you to make me that sandwich.”
I brought back a tray with our sandwiches and a pitcher of milk. When we’d finished eating, Zack sighed with contentment. “You know, I might just live.”
“That’s good news.”
“You don’t look very happy about it.”
“This isn’t about you. It’s about me. I wish Clare’s friends weren’t coming out here tonight. I feel as if I’ve betrayed them.”
“Because you alerted me to the fact that they were asking questions? Joanne, if they want answers, you’ve helped them. You’ve expedited the process. Clare’s friends don’t have to jump out of the bushes and scare me. I’ll stay here and answer any questions they have.”
“I think your presence might just exacerbate matters.”
“My presence has been known to do that,” Zack said. “But I’m not sure why it would i
n this case.”
“Because if you’re waiting for them, it will appear that Falconer Shreve is trying to control events. Clare’s friends are trying to create a situation in which people can come to them.”
“Fair enough,” Zack said. “But at least let me tell you what I know – just to clear the air.”
“And I can pass this information along?”
“Every word. For the record, I believe Clare Mackey is working for a law firm in Vancouver.”
“But you’re not certain.”
“You were at the Canada Day party, Joanne. You saw the number of juniors Falconer Shreve has. Unless I’m working with one of them, I don’t keep track.”
“So you didn’t know that Anne Millar came to Falconer Shreve to find out why Clare had left so precipitously.”
“No. I knew that,” Zack said. “It came up at a partners’ meeting. We decided that, out of respect for the privacy of those involved, we wouldn’t disclose the circumstances under which Clare left. To be honest, two adults having a love affair that went wrong didn’t seem to be anybody’s business but theirs.”
“Are you saying the woman in Chris’s life was Clare Mackey?”
“You sound surprised,” Zack said.
“I thought that Clare might be the one,” I said. “But until this moment I wasn’t certain.”
“I guess each of us just knew half of the story,” Zack said. “I didn’t learn about the pregnancy and abortion until you told me that night at Magoo’s. Then of course I put two and two together.”
“But you didn’t say anything to me?”
“You and I were just getting to know one another; Chris had been my friend for over twenty years. He’d kept Clare’s pregnancy secret when he was alive. I didn’t see any point in bringing it up after he was dead and Clare had started a new life.” Zack moved his chair closer. “Does that make sense to you?”
“It makes sense,” I said.
“Then we can watch the sunset together?”
I reached over and touched his cheek. “You look so tired. Go home and get some sleep. Willie and I will stop by on our walk in the morning. Sunrises are just as nice as sunsets.”
