by Gail Bowen
“And you did,” I said.
“I was certain she’d say there’d never been anything real between them,” Taylor said, and her eyes filled. “But she told me the truth. She said they started having sex when they were shooting in Regina in November. That was when she and I moved into our first real home together. I thought it was perfect. I thought we were perfect.”
Seeing our daughter alone in her confusion and grief was heartbreaking, and Zack and I both started towards her. Taylor raised both hands, palms out, to stop us. “Let me finish. I have to get this out. Vale says the sex had nothing to do with her feelings for me. She says she and Etienne knew that they weren’t getting the balance between Sally and Izaak right.”
“And the only way they could get it right was by having sex,” Zack said, and he made no attempt to hide his disdain.
“Vale said it meant no more to her than going to a voice coach to work on an accent or sitting in makeup for three hours every day for The Happiest Girl, where her character is an old woman looking back on her life.”
“But it meant more to you,” Zack said.
Taylor nodded numbly. “I thought Vale and I truly knew each other — in every possible way. But she couldn’t have known anything about me if she thought I’d see her having sex with someone else as just part of her job.”
I leaned towards her. “Do you think there’s a way you could work this through?”
“No. When we quarrelled we both said hurtful things, but what we said was true. Vale said she loved me, but what mattered most to her would always be her work. As soon as she said that, I realized that was true for me too. While we were in Vancouver, I didn’t make art — nothing, not even a sketch. I wasn’t a recluse. I saw the city, walked on the beach, went to galleries, had coffee with people, but I didn’t make art. I still don’t understand why. It was as if my life was on hold. I couldn’t keep living like that.” She shrugged and tried a smile. “Sally’s genes, I guess. And now here I am.”
I moved towards her, then hesitated.
She stood and held out her arms. “It’s okay. Now I’m ready for that hug.”
Chapter Eleven
Zack and I slept well that night. The knowledge that our daughter was two cottages away with her cats and one of her closest friends as company was a powerful antidote to an evening of disquieting revelations.
Zack’s and my morning walk with the dogs along the shoreline was shot through with shared memories of our daughter and Vale. The two women had met briefly backstage in New York City when we saw Vale’s performance in The Happiest Girl, but their first meaningful encounter came at the after-party for the dancers who’d been part of a gala celebrating a local patron of the arts. I’d been asleep when Taylor returned, but Zack had been waiting up, and the next morning at breakfast he reported that Taylor was incandescent as she described her evening. Apparently, she and Vale Frazier had bundled up and spent the evening on one of the penthouse balconies overlooking the city and all its Christmas lights and, in our daughter’s breathless words, “talking about everything.” Vale had introduced our daughter to the work of Joseph Campbell, the professor of comparative mythology and comparative religions who wrote The Hero with a Thousand Faces. It was heady stuff, and in the ensuing days and weeks, Taylor introduced Vale to a world where families ate meals together, shared stories of their day and where, as Taylor had once exploded in exasperation, “there was always somebody with you whether you wanted them with you or not.”
Vale and Taylor were both twenty, and neither had been in a serious relationship before. They moved into their relationship cautiously because, as Taylor explained when she told us that she and Vale were in love, they knew that bringing two lives together in the right way would involve careful planning.
For Zack and me there were many shining memories of their time together. Taylor and Vale, tanned and ebullient, decked out in red and white ready to wave the flag at Falconer Shreve’s annual Canada Day party. Their quiet pride as they showed us through the condo that would be their first home together. The river of photos they sent us of their fairy-tale Christmas in London with the legendary actor Rosamond Burke. The small gestures of tenderness between them that said what words could not.
As we headed back to the cottage, Zack was silent, and I knew he was brooding. “They had everything going for them,” he said. “All that promise. And then . . .” He snapped his fingers. “It’s over.”
My phone rang. I checked caller ID and squeezed Zack’s shoulder. “It’s our son-in-law,” I said. “And guess what? Something else is just beginning.” I turned on the speakerphone.
Charlie was jubilant. “Guess who’s here?” When we heard the lusty cry of Desmond Zackary Dowhanuik, Zack and I both sighed deeply with relief.
“Everything went well?” I asked.
“Everything went brilliantly. Mieka was stupendous, and Des already scored ten out of ten on his Apgar test.”
Zack was clearly baffled. “What’s an Apgar test?”
“It’s a test performed when babies are one minute old to see how well they made it through the birth process,” Charlie said. “They repeat the test when the babies are five minutes old to see how well they’re doing in the world outside their mother’s womb. Not many babies score ten out of ten.”
“Five minutes old, and Des is already at the top of his class,” Zack said.
Charlie’s laugh was self-deprecating. “You’re mocking me,” he said. “But I can take it because I’ve just been part of the most amazing experiences anyone’s ever had. I can hardly wait till we do it again.”
Mieka’s groan was audible, and Charlie’s contrition was instant. “I should probably let Mieka talk,” he said.
“Just after the nick of time,” I said, and we both laughed.
* * *
We decided that Mieka, Charlie and Des needed some family time together before we visited, so it was six thirty that evening when Madeleine, Lena, Zack and I arrived on the second floor of the Regina General Hospital. My memories of the Mother Baby Unit were not all gilt-edged.
Madeleine had been eighteen months old when Lena was born. To prepare her daughter for the birth, Mieka read her all the right books and did all the right things. She talked daily to Madeleine about the child who would be joining their family. She helped Maddy choose welcome-to-the-world books for herself and for her new sibling, and when she left for the hospital, Mieka gave Maddy her favourite red cashmere scarf so Maddy would know her mother was coming home.
As we drove to Regina General on the day Lena was born, Madeleine was quiet. Taylor, who was then nine and a half, tried but failed to engage Maddy in the clapping game that was her current favourite. In the elevator, Maddy held tightly to the gift-wrapped copy of Goodnight Moon she’d chosen for her new sister. There was no reason to anticipate trouble, but a storm was brewing.
As she approached her mother’s hospital bed, Madeleine was tentative but when she spotted the baby in her mother’s arms, she growled — a low guttural, feral sound that seemed to come from the depths of her being. Then she grasped me behind the knees and began to sob; within seconds, Mieka was sobbing too. “I’ve never seen Maddy like this,” she said. “We’re breaking her heart.”
I scooped Madeleine up and held her close. “She’ll be fine,” I said. “But I think we need to go home. We all love you, and we all love Lena.” At the sound of her sister’s name, Madeleine stiffened. “I’ll call you later,” I said. “Mieka, this will work out.”
And it did. We never paid a return visit to the hospital, but the afternoon Mieka and Lena came home, Maddy, Taylor and I set the table with Mieka’s best linen tea cloth, the delicate china cups and dessert plates reserved for special occasions and a platter of the lace cookies Mieka adored. We were ready, but when I heard the car in the driveway, my nerves tightened.
Mieka came through the door alone, went straig
ht to Madeleine and, murmuring endearments, wrapped her older daughter in her arms. When finally they broke apart, both mother and daughter were beaming. “Daddy’s waiting in the car,” Mieka said. “Are you ready for him to bring Lena in?”
“I’m ready now,” Madeleine said. And on that enigmatic note, the page was turned.
* * *
The scene today couldn’t have been more different, and as Madeleine and Lena walked, hand in hand, into Mieka’s hospital room to meet the newest member of their family, I felt a frisson of joy. The bliss continued. Mieka was holding Des, and she zeroed in on Zack. “This boy needs his grandfather,” she said. “He weighs a shade over ten pounds. I just fed him, so he’s down for the count.”
Zack wheeled to Mieka’s bedside and held out his arms. Madeleine and Lena positioned themselves on either side of Zack’s chair, and I moved closer. Des snuggled right in, the picture of contentment. He was a handsome, long-limbed baby with white blond hair, fair skin and a large and expressive mouth. “He’s perfect,” Zack said finally. “Well done, you two.”
“All praise gratefully accepted,” Charlie said. “And you’re right. He is perfect. And so far, he seems to have an even temperament. He sleeps. He gazes. He eats. He sleeps.”
“No diaper change in there?” I asked.
Charlie raised an eyebrow. “Des is impressive in that area too. But enough said. What’s happening in the big world?”
Zack pulled out his tablet and began showing photos of the twins on the play structure, until Lena called a halt and suggested it was time for Mieka to see their two-tone toenails. Mieka was enthusiastic, but I noticed she was flagging.
“I think the new mother needs some sleep.”
“Good call,” Mieka said. “And since Des is my roommate, I’ll be lucky if I log a solid three hours.”
I leaned over for a last look. “It’s hard to say goodbye to this little guy.”
“He’s easy to love,” Mieka said. “He’s so good, and he really is beautiful. Charlie and I have been trying to figure out who he takes after.”
“I can answer that,” I said. “He looks like Desmond Love. Your son’s likeness to my father and your grandfather is pretty stunning. I have some pictures of him when he was a little boy. I’ll bring them along tomorrow.”
Mieka sighed. “It’s amazing to think that our son looks like the grandfather I never knew.”
“If we’re lucky, he’ll have your grandfather’s talent,” Charlie said.
Lena’s look was quizzical. “Whose talent do Maddy and I have?”
“Desmond Love was your great-grandfather too,” Charlie said. “You could have inherited that talent.”
Madeleine groaned. “Did you see the picture Lena and I drew for our new brother? He can probably do better than that already.”
“Well, your great-grandfather loved to swim, and you two are great swimmers,” I said. “And you’re both optimists. You believe everything will work out for the best. Des believed that too.”
“You and your brother all have some amazing genes going for you,” Zack said. “So, don’t sweat it. Just kick back and wait to be surprised.”
“Words to live by,” I said. “Now we really better get a move on. Tomorrow’s the first day of school, and we still have baths and hair washing on the agenda. Mieka, I know the girls’ outfits are in their overnight bags, and I know their school supplies are in their backpacks. I’ll send you the first day of school photo, so you know they didn’t go off wearing their PJ bottoms and a party dress.”
Mieka rolled her eyes. “The way Taylor did when she was in grade one.”
“When it comes to fashion, Taylor has always been her own woman,” I said. “Speaking of Taylor, she’s very excited about this little guy. She and Gracie Falconer are at the lake, but I’m sure she’ll be here as soon as visiting hours start tomorrow.”
“So, Vale’s still working in Vancouver,” Mieka said.
Zack was smooth. “Yep, Vale is still in Vancouver, but Taylor and Gracie are having fun catching up. Now it’s time for us to say our goodbyes.”
After Charlie D pried Des out of Zack’s firm grip, we headed out. As the girls danced down the hall to the elevator, I turned to Zack. “Nice catch on Mieka’s reference to Vale’s whereabouts,” I said.
“Mieka and Charlie will find out soon enough, and they deserve a day without complications.”
“I could use one of those myself,” I said. With that, we joined the girls to wait for the elevator that would carry us down to the hospital’s main floor and back to the complex and uncertain world.
* * *
Tuesday morning the girls’ high spirits were intoxicating as they spooned their bowls of junk cereal — a traditional first day of school breakfast since Mieka was in kindergarten — and rattled on about new teachers and old friends. Zack and I were content to sit back and breathe in the joy. We watched from the front porch as Madeleine and Lena boarded their school bus. However, as the school bus turned the corner and disappeared from view, I felt the pang of loss. After I closed the door, Zack gave me a searching look. “Carousel of time spinning too fast?” he asked.
I nodded. “It seems like only yesterday Madeleine was climbing onto that bus for her first day at École St. Pius X, and now it’s her last year.”
“Hey, next year, we’ll be watching Charlie and Colin climb on that bus and in five years it will be Desmond Zackary Dowhanuik’s turn.”
“You really are a good guy,” I said. “Not many grandfathers would turn down a chance to have breakfast with a retiring Supreme Court justice just to see his granddaughters off to their first day of school.”
“The breakfast for retiring Justice Wayne Wren is being held at the Scarth Club, and Lucky Charms with Magical Unicorns are not on the menu,” Zack said. “I checked. Besides, Wayne and I have known each other since law school. Our friendship had to be shelved for the twenty-five years he was on the court and I was practising law, but now that he’s retiring, we’re planning to have a drink together and make up for lost time.”
“That might take more than one drink,” I said. “Why don’t you and Wayne go out to the lake while the weather is still nice? Have a barbecue and stay the night.”
“Now that is a great idea. Wayne’s keen to meet you.”
“I’m keen to meet him too,” I said, “but the reunion should be for just the two of you. When life settles down, we’ll invite Wayne for dinner here.”
“He’ll get a kick out of that,” Zack said. “Wayne’s finding it hard to get his head around the idea that after forty-eight years living life on the edge, I’ve become a family man. So what’s on your agenda for the day?”
“I’m going to dig up those photos of Desmond Love when he was a boy, and then I’m going to Gale’s Florist to buy gerbera daisies for Mieka — half rosy orange; half vibrant pink, her favourites. Then I’m going to the Mother Baby Unit again to visit Desmond Zackary Dowhanuik and his mum.”
Zack’s smile was wide. “Just hearing that name makes me proud.”
“That’s exactly the reaction Mieka and Charlie D were hoping for,” I said. “Anyway, before I go to Regina General, I’m going to call Jill to learn if Ronan Farquhar is one of the summer interns. Gracie said the members of Clay’s little group are glued together, so it’s possible Ronan followed Clay to MediaNation.”
Zack’s smile vanished. “This whole ‘cohort’ business creeps me out,” he said. “Gracie dismissed Clay’s ‘band of warriors’ as kid stuff, but what Clay Fairbairn and Ronan Farquhar are doing is not kid stuff.”
“It wasn’t,” I said. “And I have a sinking feeling that what we actually know of Clay and Ronan’s actions is just the tip of the iceberg.”
“Let’s hope you’re wrong,” Zack said. “I’m going to be stuck in meetings all morning, but when I get out, I’ll call you. Give Desmond Zackary a
nd his parents a hug from me.”
* * *
As soon as Zack left, I called Jill. As I relayed Maisie’s description of her encounter with Ronan Farquhar at the symposium, Jill listened without interruption, but when she confirmed that Ronan Farquhar was one of MediaNation’s summer interns, her voice was tight. “Jo, do you have any idea what all this means?”
“Not yet, but Maisie sent us the three good photos she got of Ronan’s face before he took off. They were on Zack’s tablet. Taylor and her friend Gracie Falconer were looking at pictures of the twins when the photos of Ronan Farquhar appeared. Gracie recognized him immediately. He was in her year at Luther.
“Gracie didn’t have much to do with Ronan, but what she knew about Ronan’s connection with Clay Fairbairn and his ‘cohort’ of four is disturbing.” When I passed along Clay Fairbairn’s description of his cohort as a “band of warriors,” Jill’s excitement was palpable in her voice.
“Two questions,” she said. “How are you going to handle this? And what can I do to help?”
“Maisie was involved in both the incident with Alison at the picnic and the confrontation with Ronan at the symposium. I’ll run what you just told me by her and get back to you.”
“I’ll be here.” Jill paused. “Jo, journalists get an adrenaline rush when they sense a real red meat story. Usually it’s a blast, but I have a bad feeling about this.”
“Maisie and I do too,” I said. “The possibility that what we know about the cohort is just the beginning is alarming. Is Ronan at work today?”
“Actually, he just walked by my office. Do you want me to make sure he stays at the office?”
“I do. If Maisie can get away, I know she’ll want to see him. I’ll get back to you as soon as I know if she’s free.”
* * *