A Bodyguard to Remember

by Alison Bruce

  There were only three classes—Primary, Junior, and Senior. Partly, this was because the school was small. Partly, it was a choice to compensate for the variables in the previous education of the students. Each class had at least two core teachers—one for English, one for French. Plus, there were art, music, science, and physical education teachers. More importantly, once you got past the armed security at the front door and on patrol in the yard, it was easy to forget that the place was protected up the wazoo. All the other measures were nearly invisible.

  Based on their grade, Hope and Boone were provisionally placed in the intermediate class. Their knowledge and skills would be assessed over their first week to determine their academic levels and spot any weaknesses. I knew one. They weren’t fluent in French. That, I was assured, wouldn’t be a problem.

  We visited the gym, science lab, and art and music rooms. We explored the library, where we were each allowed to sign out a book. Boone found a book on great Canadian inventions. Hope discovered a Nancy Drew book she hadn’t read yet. I picked up an illustrated guide to spy gear.

  “Does the place meet with your approval, Hartley?” Merrick asked on the way back to his apartment.

  “I like it. I like it a lot.” I turned so I could look into the backseat. “You guys like the school?”

  They gave me a hurried yes then got back to speculating what special subjects they would take—still thinking magic more than math and language.

  “Nate, would you mind walking to school?” I asked, craning to see him in the seat immediately behind me. “I usually walk in the morning and this would be a way of doing so without taking up too much of your time.”

  “Works for me.”

  I nodded and arranged myself more comfortably. During the drive, I considered other things I could do to be less of a burden. When Merrick parked, I turned and broached the subject again.

  “You know, I can work anywhere, as long as I have coffee and a plug for my laptop. So, if you need to go to class or the library or whatever, I’m pretty flexible.”

  Nate shrugged sheepishly.

  “Actually, I was hoping you might feel that way, so I asked my professors if you could sit in on the classes. I told them you were doing research. They’re good with it. The only one that’s a problem is Chemistry Lab. It’s three hours on Wednesday afternoons.”

  “I can stay home Wednesday afternoons,” I said. “For that matter I don’t have to be out every day—I just don’t want to be cooped up all the time.”

  “I trust you two to find a workable balance,” Merrick interjected. “I moved you here so you could have more freedom as well as be safer.” He turned to his son. “Just take reasonable precautions. I don’t want anything happening to either of you.”

  We were parked at a supermarket. Our next mission was grocery shopping. Merrick left us with Nate for that, pleading other errands to accomplish. He dropped us off and told us to get a taxi home. When we got back to the condo, we discovered what he had been doing. On the desk in the kids’ room was a new computer. Merrick followed the kids in and addressed them.

  “You have limited access to the Internet and Zeke has arranged special email accounts so you can write to your family and friends. Limited means you can visit the same sites you’d be allowed to go to at school. You can receive mail, but only your mother can send outgoing messages. No chat or instant messaging, okay?” He turned to me. “Their computer is programmed to upload outgoing mail to your computer via the wireless router. Make sure that they don’t give away where you are.”

  I nodded.

  “Sarge! What’s this?” Boone held up a small box with a bow. Hope was turning over an identical box in her hand.

  “It looks like a birthday present,” Merrick said, as if he wasn’t sure. “Perhaps you should open it.”

  Boone didn’t have to be told twice.

  “Mom look!”

  Once I got him to stop waving it around, I saw he was holding a cell phone.

  “Their own phones?” I queried, looking over at Merrick.

  “Not exactly,” Merrick said. “Those are cellular radios. They can call you, they can call Nate, and they can call 9-1-1. That’s it. Of course, you and Nate can call them and they can call each other. Oh, and the device is also an MP3 player.”

  “Cool!” Boone exclaimed.

  “I can’t call my friends?” asked Hope. “How about texting?”

  “Not from that phone, or anywhere else either,” Merrick told her. “You have to rely on email.”

  I took a closer look and saw there was no number pad on the device, only a menu and cursor keys. I handed it back to Boone.

  “It really is very cool.”

  I was a bit envious. As if he read my mind, Merrick pressed something into my hand.

  “I didn’t forget you, Hartley,” Merrick said, handing me a device about the size of a playing card and the thickness of about one suit in the deck. “It has all the usual bells and whistles, unlimited roaming and is shielded and encrypted.”

  He pointed to the authentication label on the back, then flipped it over again. “It has a couple of hot keys, one for me and one for Nate. Zeke transferred your directory from your old phone. I’ve added the numbers for the kids. Your number is blocked, and I would prefer that you don’t give it out. The phone here has an answering service. All calls will go through the service first. That way you don’t have to deal with my messages. I’ve asked the service to page you on the cell if the call is for you. You can make outgoing calls to your closest family and friends. Just use discretion. The more you call, the more likely you’ll compromise your safety.”

  “How about calling you?”

  “Zeke or I will be checking in every day,” he said.

  I pulled out the disposable cell he had programmed and given me earlier. He shook his head.

  “Keep it as backup. Just don’t use it unless it’s an emergency.”

  While we talked, Nate put away the groceries. He took his leave when we got to the kitchen. Hope and Boone were already calling each other on their new toys.

  “I hope those things don’t charge by the minute,” I commented. On cue, I heard my new phone ring. I looked at the call display. “Hi Boone. How about you and your sister wash up for dinner now.”

  We had a barbecued chicken from the grocery store, a bag of salad, and a belated birthday cake. Over dinner, Merrick and I laid down ground rules for phone use. Merrick’s rules were that they had to be charged every night and kept with them every time they left the condo. They were equipped with GPS and not to be turned off under any circumstances.

  “That goes for your phone too, Hartley. If the phone is off, I’ll assume the worst. Having a tactical team show up at your door because you let the battery die would be embarrassing.”

  My rule was that they weren’t toys and I didn’t want the radio function being used indiscriminately. Tonight was an exception. Tonight they could play.

  Despite the radio chatter, it was a pleasant family evening—the first we’d had in a long time—well, a week. It felt like forever.

  Despite being in a strange place in strange circumstances, it didn’t feel weird. I could almost believe that Merrick was a member of the family—or at least a prospective member of the family. We all changed into our Disney store pyjamas. For the first time since we met, I got to see Merrick without a gun on or near him. That was a little weird and kind of sexy—like seeing him naked.

  Any temptation I might have had to take that thought further was squashed by my children. When I went to check on them, Boone was sound asleep but Hope was waiting for me in my bed. We cuddled and talked for a while. No regrets. Whatever may or may not have been between Merrick and me, my children and I were together for the long haul.

  CHAPTER 6

  When the phone rang, I answered it automatically. It was beside the bed and I was groggy with sleep. I don’t think I even realized I wasn’t at home.

  “Merrick? It’s Zeke. T
here’s been an explosion at the house.”

  If it hadn’t been for that last sentence, I would have discretely hung up.

  “Were you in the house?” asked Merrick, from his office extension.

  “Yeah, I’m sleeping there. I’m calling from the hospital. It was only a smoke bomb, but the paramedics wanted me to be checked.”

  I hung up carefully. First stop was the bathroom where I threw up. Then I headed out to the kitchen in search of water and reassurance. Merrick was waiting for me.

  “I forgot not to answer the phone,” I explained, not quite apologizing.

  “It’s okay. Zeke should have called my cell.”

  “How is he?”

  “He’s good. They’re keeping him overnight for observation. It’s a precaution, that’s all.”

  I sighed. That was the most important thing out of the way. I moved on.

  “Any damage to the house? Did the smoke get through to Walter’s place? Someone should check on him.”

  “Walter is your adjoining neighbour?”

  I nodded.

  “The firefighters got him out,” he assured me, “as well as your neighbours on the other side. Under the circumstances, they wanted to err on the side of caution in case the smoke bomb was only a warning.”

  It could have been a real bomb. My house could have been blown to smithereens and Zeke could be a charred husk in the ruins, requiring a forensic anthropologist to identify him, and if Merrick hadn’t gotten us away, it could have been my kids and me . . .

  My knees turned to jelly. I had to grip the counter edge to keep myself from falling.

  Merrick put an arm around my shoulder and led me to the couch.

  “No one was hurt. I can’t tell you about the state of your house because Zeke doesn’t know. I’ll find out first thing in the morning.”

  I nodded, rubbing my cheek into his shoulder. There was no point in worrying about the house. Zeke and Walter were all right. My kids were safe. I repeated these two points over and over to myself until I stopped shaking. Merrick seemed to sense the change because just as I was starting to enjoy the luxury of having a nice, strong man holding me, he pulled away.

  “Tea?” he asked.

  “Yes, please.”

  I remember being brought tea. I remember Merrick sitting down beside me and letting me lean on him. The next thing I knew, I was waking up on the couch. A blanket had been placed over me. My cold tea was still waiting. A note beside the cup told me that Merrick had left and that he’d call later.

  It was almost two weeks before I saw him again.

  * * *

  Friday evening. Merrick was waiting at the condo when we got home. He was perusing the local pizzeria menu when we came through the door laden with groceries and Chinese takeout.

  “Hey Dad!” Nate called.

  “Hi Sarge!” called Boone.

  Hope gave a little wave.

  My reaction was a bit embarrassing. I had a goofy grin fighting to get out, but I settled for a welcoming smile. Me, smitten? Well, maybe a little.

  “Looks like you don’t need pizza,” he commented, setting aside the menu.

  “We can have pizza tomorrow,” said Boone. “Hey, do you want to see what Nate got us?”

  Boone dragged Merrick away. I told them to look but not play, and to wash up on the way back. I was setting out dinner.

  I was prepared for Merrick’s bemused expression. The bedroom had been substantially changed in his absence. The bunk beds and desk had been moved to create space for two bean bag chairs and a media centre. Nate and I split the cost of a small HDTV and he had brought over his Wii and Play Station. The old hockey posters were down and new Avengers, X-men, and Harry Potter posters were put up, as well as a signed Ottawa Senators’ poster.

  “Nate and Boone share the room now,” I explained. “Don’t worry, except for a couple of art prints, Hope and I haven’t redecorated your bedroom.”

  “Nate is staying here?”

  “It was easier,” I explained. “He’s here most of the time anyway. You okay with this?”

  He gave me the kind of head shake that denoted the realigning of ideas, not a negative response.

  “Nate’s always welcome here. We haven’t been that close over the years, but . . .” Suddenly he grinned. “Of course I’m okay with this.”

  I smiled and nodded. I suspected he was happy with the way things were going—bemused, but happy. It was hard to be sure with Merrick. I hoped he thought the place felt more like a home—especially since he had his son back.

  Nate told me about the rift.

  It started when Nate joined up. Growing up, he always said he wanted to be a cop like his dad. His mother discouraged this ambition. She favoured a professional career like doctor, lawyer, or a United Church Minister like her father.

  Evidently, Merrick did his best not to influence Nate’s choice but was clearly disappointed that he chose the Armed Forces over Police Services.

  “I never realized how much he resented my choice until I came home after my first course of training,” Nate told me. “You know what he’s like, all stoic, all the time. I was so gung-ho back then, so full of myself. We got into this discussion about the difference between police and soldiers and ended up in a spitting contest. Things came out that shouldn’t have been said.”

  They apologised the next day . . . or maybe the day after. Then Nate was deployed and they didn’t have a chance to talk much. Two tours of duty later, Nate decided to take advantage of his veteran’s benefits and go to university. Father and son saw each other more often, but certain topics were unofficially deemed off-limits. They were topics that Nate and I covered in late-night conversations over tea.

  One of the big questions was what Nate wanted to do with the next part of his life. Officer’s training? Police academy? Something completely different? He had to sort out his desires from the expectations of his father and mother.

  The other topic of conversation was his father.

  “At first,” Nate had told me, “I thought that he was pining for my mother—that’s why he didn’t have girlfriends. Then I came to the conclusion that he was gay. Which I’m cool with,” he added quickly. “But it wasn’t like he had boyfriends either. If he wasn’t a cop, he’d be perfect for the priesthood. I’ve tried talking to him about it. I mean, I don’t care what he is. I just want him to be happy. I’ve given up thinking that’ll happen because of a relationship.”

  This was a theme that also came up in my conversations with Zeke.

  Zeke called regularly and emailed at least once a day. While he was going through our stuff, he was disposing of a lot of it for me. After the smoke bomb, it was decided that the place should be emptied and Zeke work elsewhere. When we moved back in, a lot less stuff would be moved in with us—assuming I ever felt like returning. Box-by-box we discussed whether it should be kept, sold, given away, or thrown out. When we weren’t discussing the disposition of my belongings, we talked about Star Trek, comic books, and Merrick.

  “It’s none of my business, but you should know that Merrick is a perennial bachelor. I guess in that way, he really is like your character Valdok. He doesn’t see a permanent relationship fitting with his career choice. I think it hurt him tremendously when his wife initiated the divorce. He doesn’t want to go there again.”

  “So he’s been celibate all this time?” That was certainly the impression Nate gave.

  “Uh, no. Just nothing serious and no one he’d take home to meet the family. Damn! That sounds worse than I meant, it’s just . . . you know . . .”

  “I get it. ‘Ships that pass in the night’ sort of thing.”

  “Exactly!” I could practically feel Zeke’s sigh of relief through the handset. “Temporary.”

  “Who says I want a permanent relationship? Haven’t you noticed that none of my characters get married and live happily ever after?”

  “Yeah, I noticed,” Zeke grumbled. “You know the occasional happily-ever-after
ending wouldn’t be so bad. Either one of your lovers dies or duty tears them apart . . . anyway, I’m not saying anything, I’m just giving you a heads up.”

  “My head is up,” I said. “And I’ll try to write a story for you where the lovers aren’t doomed.”

  “Maybe a story where the geek gets the girl.”

  I promised Zeke a geek-gets-girl story and was in the midst of the first rewrite when Merrick returned to Ottawa. I promised myself that I would heed the warnings of Zeke and Nate and not let myself get too caught up in Merrick. But when the man gave me that bemused half-smile because I got his son to move back home—albeit temporarily—the warnings disappeared like Hope at the mention of washing dishes.

  After dinner and dishes, Hope disappeared to work on her creative writing blog. Nate challenged Boone to a game of Lego Batman and Merrick and I were left alone in the living room. The next few minutes were so cliché I almost laughed aloud.

  We each took an end of Merrick’s three-seater couch. We shared an awkward silence, which we both tried to break at the same time. You’d think we were teenagers on a date.

  “You first,” said Merrick.

  “Zeke tells me that the house has been cleared and the cleaners have started work.”

  “Yes.” After another moment of silence he added, “When I left, the carpet on the stairs was being pulled. Zeke says you would prefer to have the wood sanded and finished than replace the carpet.”

  “It seems like a more economical choice,” I said. “He told me the carpeting was smoke damaged.”

  “So he told me. Zeke has finished with the obvious choices for hiding places and is now going through boxes that were buried behind other boxes. He says he’s just being thorough.”

  I smiled and said nothing.

  “I admire his thoroughness,” Merrick added. “Naturally, it wouldn’t be appropriate for him to be sorting through your things just to help you reduce clutter.”