by R E Swirsky
His Grams smiled at him. "She came as soon as she heard."
"She came when she heard I was dead."
"Now, that's not fair, Vincent."
Vincent scoffed. "Not fair? What's not fair? Waiting until I'm dead to come back into my life? I don't want to see her."
"You don't mean that," Anita replied.
"I do mean that! She has no right. And she's creepy."
"Now Vincent..." Chris said.
"She is! You can't tell me she's not creepy. She looked like a corpse hiding under that black veil like that, and I could barely even see her."
His gramps laughed and nodded. "She is odd, I must agree."
"She's more than odd."
"Just try and be nice to her," his Grams said. "She'll probably only be here for a few more days."
"I don't want to be nice. I just want things to go back to the way they were. Just you, Gramps, and me, that's all. I don't want anything to do with her. Not now. Not ever."
"In a few weeks you'll be back at school. You can do whatever you want about her then, but she will be back at the house when you get home."
"This is just stupid. So I have to see her even though I don't want to?"
"We are just asking that you be pleasant to her, that's all. And remember, Anna will be there too when you get home."
"Anna," Vincent sighed. His mood suddenly lifted. "She came all the way out here because of me."
"She really must like you," Anita said.
"She does..." He paused and smiled. "And I really do like her. I'm sorry for not telling you about her… I didn’t really even ask her out before I left school. I can't wait to go home so I can see her. You'll like her."
Chris and Anita nodded and smiled back at him.
The doctor came into the room and examined Vincent briefly. He told them the results from the blood and urine tests came back looking better than expected. They would keep him overnight to ensure his fluid levels stabilized. He said Vincent should be well enough to go home first thing in the morning.
CHAPTER 37 Day Six - Wednesday 8:14 AM
The house was alive and buzzing with people who were invited to celebrate Vincent’s resurrection over breakfast. After a brief session of polite introductions and greetings with a number of guests, and a polite, obligatory hug from his estranged mother, he squeezed himself away from the crowd and found Anna. He shuffled her outside into the gardens where they could be alone.
"I was so surprised to see you at the cemetery," he said.
Anna smiled and reached for his bandaged hands. "When I heard you died, I couldn't believe it. I almost dropped my phone. I just cried. I realized how much you really meant to me last year. I just had to come for your funeral. David Marx told me what happened."
"David. Yes, my Gramps would have called him. We shared a room at UBC last year. He grew up only three blocks from here."
"He knew from the start, back when you and I first met, that I had a crush on you. I'm sure that's why he called me."
Vincent smiled. "Really? He never mentioned anything to me about knowing you had a crush on me."
"Do you remember that day you and I first met? He was there with you. You went up to grab us a few drinks. I asked David if you had a girlfriend. He laughed hysterically and said, ‘As if.’ I didn't know you were that shy around girls. Since then, whenever David and I crossed paths in the hall, he made some teasing comment to me. He said if I didn't hurry up and find a way to make you ask me out then he was going to tell you."
"He was like that when we were in high school too. He is a good friend. Grams said he called earlier.”
“He did? Is he stopping by?”
“No, he’s working up in the oil fields. But he did tell me to say hi to you.” Vincent smiled. “And then he told me I was a shmuck for going this far to fake being stuck in a well just to get you to make the first move.” He laughed.
“Oh, brother.” She giggled in response. "He was the one who gave me your mom's number."
"Grandparents you mean."
"No, I talked to your mom."
"At my grandparent's number."
"Well, your mom answered when I called. I didn't know what to say when she asked who I was, so I said I was your girlfriend."
Vincent pulled his hand away from Anna's. "What?"
"No, no!" She grabbed Vincent's bandaged hand back to her side. "I mean… I didn't know if she would tell me anything about what happened to you if she thought I was a complete stranger..." She paused for a moment. "I really do love you, Vincent."
He looked at her inquisitively. "You're not just saying that, I hope."
"No, Vincent! I've liked you for a long time now. Loved you actually. I just didn't know it until after I found out what happened. You and I spent almost all of our free time last semester together. I was always hoping you’d ask me out… You know… To make it real."
"I know." Vincent squeezed her hand back and shrugged. "I'm just not good at that stuff. I always get too nervous, and then I turn chicken."
Anna laughed. "You are cute."
“Thanks,” he said. “I’m still so embarrassed about how I said goodbye to you in June. That was so bad."
"What do you mean? Why was it bad?" she asked.
"You know why," he said. "I shook your hand when we said goodbye. I got on the bus and waved at you through the window. I felt like such an idiot. Who shakes the hand of a girl he wants to be with when he's not going to see her for a couple of months? Who does that?"
Anna hugged Vincent. He loved how she smelled. He rubbed the backside of his hand where there was no bandage up the side of her arm and delighted in the softness of her skin.
"I wouldn’t have been surprised if you found someone else over the summer. I wouldn't have liked it but… I would have just blamed my idiot-self."
"Well, Vincent… I’m here with you now." She brushed one hand through his soft blonde hair and kissed him softly on the lips. "And I want to be here beside you every minute of every day."
He returned her kiss. "Me too." He smiled and kissed her again. And again.
They walked through the gardens with fingers interlocked, as best they could manage through Vincent's bandages, around the large garden to the tree-spotted lawn behind the large sandstone house.
"This place really is beautiful," Anna said.
"It's not so nice anymore. With Grams being ill, Gramps has kind of let the place go. He just doesn't spend as much time out here as he used to." He pointed to the overgrown flowerbeds by the patio. "Grams used to spend hours in those beds every day making them just perfect. When she started getting tired a few years ago, Gramps took over for her the best he could. He usually just stuck to the lawn and trimming the trees and hedges, but the flowerbeds were important to Grams. Grams would sit out on the patio with her cup of tea and watch him try to do what she did so easily. She'd holler out instructions to him from where she sat: ‘What the heck are you doing? You've trimmed that back too far! Make sure the ivy grows even up both sides of that trellis! That's not a weed you just pulled out!’ It was funny to watch."
Anna laughed. "It sounds like you really love your Grandparents."
"I do… so much. They rescued me. My mother..." he paused and looked up at the house. "She dumped me here when I was only ten."
"Dumped you?" Anna frowned. "Really?"
"Yeah. I didn’t see her once all through middle school and high school… but she's in there now."
Anna looked up at the house.
"Arlene. Some kind of mother, huh?"
Anna remained silent and nodded as if she now understood why he had responded the way he did at the cemetery.
"She showed up at the cemetery like she cares about me. I haven't seen or heard from her for nine years."
"I am so sorry, Vincent. I didn't know."
"I hate her. I really do."
Anna hesitated. "But you said ‘hi’ to her earlier and hugged her before we came outside. I don't understand."
"I only hugged her to be polite. Grams and Gramps asked me to be polite. I haven’t talked to her, and I am not sure I even want to. I just want to be with you right now," he said.
"This home is really incredible, Vincent. I can't imagine growing up in such a big house and with all of this land to explore."
He nodded. "My Grams and Gramps have been great."
"But look at this place. I bet with a little love and attention it could be what it used to be."
Vincent remembered when the flower beds blossomed with a rainbow of colours and the trees were precisely manicured and trimmed. He looked at the various hedges that now grew into a wall of wickedness that strangled the path that once meandered toward a small pond with a fountain in the centre. He strained to see what remained of the pond but could only see a mass of weeds and wild grass beyond the overgrown hedges.
He laughed as he imagined the amount of work that would be involved within her suggestion of “a little love.”
"This place has gone way downhill. Look what's only left of the grass now. When I grew up here, the grass was always perfect. No weeds were allowed to pop up, and everything was always thick and green. Look at it now. It's dried out, full of weeds, and you could barely even call it a lawn. Sure it's cut, but looks so sad." He kicked at the grass and a fine powder of dust rose up around them.
"What I'd give to live in a home like this… to plant a huge garden and grow fresh vegetables all summer!” Anna said.
Something caught Vincent's eye. He turned towards the house and saw his grandparents staring at them from the open patio doors in the distance. He could see how old and fragile they both had become.
"Just like this old property," he whispered.
"Pardon?" Anna asked.
"Oh, nothing. We should really go back to the house now. I can't hide out here forever… They're probably waiting for us.”
CHAPTER 38 Day Six - Wednesday 9:12 AM
Chris and Anita stood outside the open patio door and watched Vincent as he strolled along the fence at the back of the property with Anna at his side.
"I am sorry, Chris. I know I promised you I would never speak of it ever again, but after what happened with Vincent down in that well, I have to know. I just have to."
Chris remained silent and continued to watch his grandson. He knew exactly what Anita was referring to and knew this was the very reason she had dragged him away from the others. Anita had always been strong and unwavering at his side. She always listened and obeyed with rigid loyalty as he toiled and worked his way up the ladder of his father's businesses over the decades until it was eventually all handed all over to him. She spoke about something she promised him she would keep forever silent. For over five decades, from a time before they were even married, she kept that promise. Not a single word was spoken until today.
He slipped into a soft chuckle and pointed out towards the trees as if he didn’t hear her. "Just look at those two out there."
Anita turned and looked up at him. Even without looking at her, he could tell her brow was furled and her lips were pursed tight. He kept his gaze on his grandson.
"Damn you, Chris!" she said and slapped him on the arm.
"What?" he replied in shock at her force.
"I'm worried, Chris! And you know damn well why!"
Chris took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "You see that?" he said and motioned out towards Vincent in the distance. "Do you remember when we were that young?"
"Oh, you!" She clenched her fragile hands into fists.
"Well, do you?" he asked again.
"I'm trying to talk about that… that thing! And you are changing the subject."
Chris turned to her, grabbed her fists gently, and forced his fingers between hers until they were holding hands. He stared down into her eyes. “I'm not changing the subject."
"Well then, answer me, damn it!"
He brought her hands up to his lips and kissed them softly. "There's a time for talking about that, and it's not now.”
He glanced at Vincent and Anna who were slowly walking back towards the house. He gave them a short wave and then clasped her hands again. "They're coming back to the house. We'll have this discussion later."
"Chris, I really don't think we are done here yet. I know I promised, but..."
"We are done for now," he said forcefully. He glared at her until she closed her mouth and let go of his hands.
"That thing isn't going anywhere," he whispered.
He could see she wanted to say more, but he wasn’t ready to talk about it. He turned away and walked back inside the house alone. He retreated to his office to think about what to do about the horror that Vincent may have unknowingly uprooted. Anita was right to bring it up, but after all of these years, the pain still remained. It was a horrible time in his life, and he really didn't want to remember any of it, but the fact remained. What rested out at Bumstead’s well may have very well been disturbed. If it was, it was a very big problem.
After a short time alone, Chris knew what he had to do. There were steps to be taken, and he would take each one of them slowly. There was no need to get excited just yet. He didn’t know how bad it really was.
He looked at the clock. It was still early in the day and there was still so much to do. Roger’s funeral was one of the big things on the list. First he needed to make an appearance to those in the room where so many friends and family gathered in celebration of Vincent’s return.
CHAPTER 39 Day Six - Wednesday 9:53 AM
A promotion to detective led Dean Daly away from Vancouver five years ago. The move to the smaller Bluffington police force was one he welcomed with great enthusiasm even though it did not offer the full-time detective duties he hoped for. Bluffington was just too small to have its own full-time detective on staff. His time was split between detective duties and regular police duties, but he was still extremely pleased. He would no longer be required to patrol the darkened transient streets on the dingy, east side of downtown Vancouver at night and tend to endless drug overdoses and the seedy world of prostitution. He liked the freedom of his new position. Because he had split duties, he worked primarily daytime hours, except when the investigative side kicked in. Whenever the opportunity to investigate anything surfaced, even something as simple as Vincent’s four days down at the bottom of Bumstead’s well, he approached it with an intensity far beyond the effort it really deserved.
Officer Jet Wu accompanied Dean out to the secluded Bumstead property where only remnants of the original buildings remained. Multiple concrete foundations, overgrown by decades of grasses and wild poplars, stood defiantly on both sides of the deteriorating gravel road deep inside the property.
"Over there," Dean uttered. He pointed off to the left.
"Tire tracks?" Jet asked.
The grass was partially flattened in two parallel lines that rolled off towards the trees.
“Ayuh. Let’s take a walk."
The officers exited the patrol car and followed the tracks on foot away from the gravel road past a number of old foundations and up along the forest a few hundred yards away. The suspect vehicle had driven over the grass, parked, turned around, and driven back out. The well must be somewhere nearby.
"Looks like they stopped here," Jet said.
"Yeah." Dean knelt down and studied the grass as Jet wandered up the small hill to his left. The grass around was flattened by foot traffic where the truck would have been parked. He searched for more tracks. The light rain and hot sun from the past few days rejuvenated the trampled grass and made it difficult for them to follow.
"Over here, Dean. Beer cans."
The beer cans were shiny and freshly discarded. Nearby was a makeshift fire pit erected from a number of large stones. A large heap of weathered lumber was piled up next to it.
“Well, I'll be damned," Dean said and pointed. Right behind the pile of lumber was the imposing stone well.
CHAPTER 40 Day Six - Wednesday 10:15 AM
Vincent stood in front of the expansive teak desk in his Gramps study and anxiously shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The breakfast crowd was slowly thinning out in the great room, and Vincent had taken the opportunity through all of the farewells and hugs and kisses to slip away and speak to his mother alone. He found his mother sitting in his Gramps' black leather office chair. For the nine years Vincent lived with his Gramps, he had never even dared to think about sitting in his Gramps chair, but that was where his mother chose to seclude herself.
Having to interact with his mother at all repulsed him, but he felt impelled by his Gramps to at least give her the chance to explain herself. She stared at the computer screen and seemed poised to ignore his questions.
"Mom! Arlene! Whatever. Can't you even look at me when I'm talking to you?" He was annoyed and frustrated with her behaviour.
She glanced up at him over the top of her narrow reading glasses that rested on the bridge of her tiny nose and then returned her gaze to the computer screen. "I'm listening," she replied.
"I asked you why you came here. Aren't you going to answer me?"
She turned and stared at Vincent with a sudden attentiveness that alarmed him. Her eyes danced about manically before locking on his. She pointed at him and hollered crazily. “You!" she shouted. She tilted her head to the side, leaned back, and laughed. "You are so much like your darn father." She laughed again. "He used to get the same reddish colour in his face when he was angry at me."
"I'm not angry. I just asked you a question and you're not answering me."
Her laughter faded and she looked confused. "Question? What question?"
"Jesus. I just asked you what you really came here for."
"Oh," she said as if she had forgotten the question entirely. "I came out to see you, Vincent."
Vincent already disliked his mother, but her odd behaviour was challenging him further. "You didn't come back for me. You only came back after you heard I was dead."