The Noon God

by Donna Carrick

  I still have the dress and it still fits. The memories, though, no longer fit my mind the way they once did. Once I was able to remember only the lace and the flowers, the lovely words and the music. Once I was able to close my eyes and see Ben’s loving face, hear his promises of ‘forever’.

  Now all I see is what I should have seen all along – Daddy’s will, Daddy’s way. It was there in the polite guests, most of whom Ben had never met. It was there in the dresses worn by Gail and Lucy, yellow chiffon flowing all around his lesser daughters as they chafed beside the one in white.

  At dinner that night he spoke his toast to his daughter the bride in front of three hundred admiring guests, all hanging on his every word. My eyes happened upon Gail during Daddy’s speech and I was annoyed to see her barely contained boredom. She rolled her eyes and tapped her fingers, finally breaking from the head table and scampering off to the ladies’ room.

  Daddy paused mid-sentence and watched Gail leave the room, then continued as if nothing had happened. Ben took my hand and I pushed the unpleasant thought from my mind.

  After Daddy’s speech we heard from the best man, Ben’s brother. Gail’s seat remained noticeably empty and Lucy began to fidget. Finally, I excused myself and scampered towards the ladies’ room, hoping desperately I would not find what I was afraid I would.

  As I passed the coatroom I heard Daddy’s voice. He must have gone ahead to find Gail.

  “For God’s sake,” he said, “why tonight?”

  “Why not?” Gail hissed.

  “Have you no decency? What about your sister? You can’t go back out there… like this.”

  “Why, Daddy? My dress is fine. My hair is fine. I can fix my makeup.”

  “That’s enough,” I said, stomping into the coatroom. “Gail, what have you done?”

  “A pinch of coke.”

  “Go and lie down in the lounge,” I said.

  “But I’ll miss dinner. I’ll miss the speeches.”

  “I don’t want you there.” That was all I said. I turned on my heel and floated back to the bridal table on my white dress, Daddy not far behind me. The rest of the night passed in a blur of unreality. My ears roared with a deafening surf and colours swirled around my eyes. I knew I’d done something very wrong, crossed some invisible line I would never be able to uncross. Again and again I scanned the room, hoping to see a thin girl in a puffy yellow dress, but the only yellow dress in the room was Lucy’s. Gail was gone.

  Ben and I went on our honeymoon. I was worried. I imagined Gail filling her body with chemicals and Daddy unable or unwilling to control her. Ben was patient. He understood my feelings of guilt and responsibility. I called Daddy. He assured me everything was all right. Gail was back on the program. Her behaviour on my wedding night had been nothing more than a lapse.

  I couldn’t explain my anxiety as we landed at Pearson International. I should have been relaxed and happy, but I wrung my hands as the limo brought us closer to Daddy’s house. Ben and I had purchased a condo, but the deal didn’t close for another week, so we would be staying with Daddy in the meantime.

  As we neared the house my disquiet became a nagging buzz in my brain. I felt as though my nose would bleed. Finally the car stopped and Ben hopped out to help with the luggage. I climbed out of the car and followed my new husband up the stairs to my father’s door. I had to lean on Ben as I turned the key in the lock. The door opened and there were Gail and Lucy, holding hands in the foyer. Lucy laughed and ran forward to throw her arms around my waist. Gail held back. She appeared to be sober. I stepped forward and wrapped my arms around her, kissing her hair. We stood like that for what seemed like forever, just three sisters sharing a moment of unabashed love.

  I’ll never forget that moment.

  SEVEN

  It was almost noon by the time we finished with Detective Manor. As expected, Lucy wasn’t able to shed any light on Daddy’s murder. The ordeal took a heavy toll on her. Her eyes were red as we climbed into my car. Uncle Willard suggested lunch and Lucy perked up. I pointed the car towards a diner I liked and we drove in silence.

  We settled into a booth and placed our orders. I didn’t feel like speaking. I didn’t feel like I had anything else to give.

  Uncle Willard fussed with his walking stick across the table from us.

  “What about the funeral?” he asked.

  “I haven’t made the arrangements yet,” I said. “When we get home I’m going to call Daddy’s agent. The press release will go out today. Now it’s official all family members have been spoken to, the police can tip the media. I want to get through to Andy before he hears it from someone else.”

  “When will the body be released?”

  “Either Tuesday or Wednesday. I’m going to plan the service for Friday. There’s no point kidding ourselves. This is going to be a circus. We might as well try to get some rest between now and then.”

  “The funeral home won’t be big enough,” Willard said.

  “I’m thinking of Trinity Church for the actual service. The entire U. of T. faculty will be there. Plus we can expect academics from New York, L.A. and Montreal.”

  “And the fans…” Lucy said. “They all loved Daddy.”

  “Are you OK?” I asked.

  “I don’t know, Mona. The police think Daddy knew his killer. The Detective kept asking me over and over whether I saw him that morning. I got the feeling she was watching me.”

  “That’s nonsense,” Uncle Willard said. He took her hand across the table and patted it. “The police know it was a random attack. They think it was a junkie or a mugging.”

  “Detective Manor said they couldn’t understand how he managed to be shot from such a close range. She said it seemed as if he knew his killer. Like it was someone he trusted enough to get close to.”

  “He was taken by surprise,” I said. “I think he never even knew anyone was there. Don’t worry, Lucy. No one could ever believe you had anything to do with it.”

  “I hope they catch the bastard,” she whispered.

  “I wouldn’t count on it,” I said.

  “That’s right,” Uncle Willard agreed. “This kind of crime is hard to solve. Unless the guy confesses or brags to a buddy who turns him in, it’s already over. They said the gun was a Jennings Nine, a Saturday night special. It’ll be almost impossible to trace. These are throwaway weapons. Even in Canada it isn’t hard to buy them. And they get passed around – ‘recycled’.” I remembered Uncle Willard’s love interest was a journalist in Toronto. His speciality was urban crime.

  “Then I hope the stupid bastard brags about it. I hope they lock him up and throw away the key.” A fresh batch of tears welled up in Lucy’s eyes. The waitress brought our food in the nick of time.

  I was starving. I ate more of my liver and onions than I intended and followed it up with a dish of ice cream. Uncle Willard nibbled at his salad. Lucy pushed her food around for awhile before finally digging in.

  She said, “I think we should have a private service on Thursday. Otherwise we won’t get a chance to say goodbye properly.”

  “That’s a good idea,” I said. “We can have a little ceremony at the funeral chapel for family and close friends only. The service on Friday can be open to the public.”

  “Can you girls stand to go through this two days in a row?”

  “We’ll have to,” Lucy said stoically. I had to admire her courage. She might appear timid, but when it came to her love for her family there was a whole other side to her that had to be reckoned with.

  Uncle Willard covered the bill and we dropped him off at his house. On the way back to Daddy’s I suddenly remembered the desk.

  “Lucy,” I said, “would you like to move into my room while you’re staying at the house? Just till you decide what to do?”

  “I was hoping you’d stay at the house with me for a few days.”

  “I’m planning to. I don’t want you staying there alone. I just thought, well, my room is more comfortab
le than yours. I thought you might like to switch.”

  “But all my clothes are in my room. I’d have to move my furniture.”

  “I was thinking you could use my furniture instead. My bed is comfy and I have more closet space than you do and my desk…”

  “Thanks, but I don’t think so. I like my room.”

  So that was that. I was relieved. The offer had been made and rejected. My conscience was clear. Besides, it was probably egotistical of me to assume Lucy would prefer my belongings and my room to her own. After all, Daddy had bought her furniture as he had mine. He had probably chosen it to suit her taste.

  In fact, the more I thought about it, the more certain I became her things were as precious to her as mine were to me. So it was settled.

  Lucy was exhausted and I sent her to bed. There wouldn’t be much time for napping when the circus began. I called the funeral home and gave instructions for the obituary to appear in the three big local papers, The Star, The Sun and The Globe and Mail. Then I went into Daddy’s study.

  He kept his equivalent of an address book on his hard drive. I pulled up the file and printed three pages of friends, lovers, relatives, colleagues from the University and literary contacts. I folded the pages and pushed them into my bag in front of the section of manuscript I was working through and behind the discarded fanny pack I had picked up in the school yard. I’d have to sit down and make some calls, but for now one call was all I had the stomach for.

  I pulled the business card off the side of the monitor where Daddy had taped it. He answered on the second ring even though it was Saturday. They don’t respect weekends in New York.

  “Good afternoon, Caesar,” he said without hesitation. Obviously he had ‘call display’.

  “Hi, Andy,” I said. “It’s me, Mona Fortune.”

  “Mona, honey, what can I do for you?” Andy Rivard had been Daddy’s agent during most of his career. Long ago he had decided Daddy was his number one client. He kept others, but Daddy knew he was Andy’s top priority. He was a brusque, deep-voiced man of near Daddy’s age. They used to joke they were both from ‘the old school’. It was a mutual respect that kept them together throughout the years. Daddy didn’t have many peers. He considered Andy to be one of them.

  “I have bad news,” I said. “Daddy is dead.”

  “Oh, my God! Mona, I’m so sorry. When did he die?”

  “We aren’t sure, but we believe it was Monday morning.”

  “Monday! Why didn’t you call?”

  “I didn’t know, Andy. He was… The thing is, he disappeared on Monday. They found his body at the faculty a few days later. He’d been shot.”

  “Shot! How… Who… What the hell happened?”

  “We don’t know. It looks like a random attack. He went into work early on Monday and it looks like he surprised someone outside of his office. Maybe a junkie. The police don’t know.”

  “Do they have any leads?”

  “No. But they may call you early next week. They’ll probably ask you if you knew of any enemies — that sort of thing. The Detective’s name is Rice. He’s OK.”

  There was a pause. Andy was digesting what I’d told him. When he finally spoke, his voice had softened.

  “Is there anything I can do? I mean besides speaking with the police? Can I help you and Lucy in any way?”

  “We’ll be ok. We’ve scheduled a service for the public on Friday of next week. But we’re having a private service on Thursday for family and close friends. Can you come?”

  “You know I will.” His normally blustery voice was broken.

  “And Andy, when you come I have something to send back with you.”

  “Millennium Girl?”

  “That’s right. He finished it the week before he died.”

  “Is it good?”

  “Better than good. But now’s not the time. After the funeral you can take it home with you. Give it a read, then we’ll talk.”

  “How are you holding up?”

  “Not so good, Andy.” I rubbed my eyes, suddenly aware of the throbbing pain that was taking over my senses.

  “Hang in there, kid. You’re his girl.”

  “I know. I’ll see you next week.”

  “Call me if you need anything.”

  “OK. And Andy, just so you know, it’s his best work.”

  He let his breath out slowly. “Better than Under the Moon?”

  “Yeah. I’m letting it go ‘as is’.”

  “I’ll get the wheels in motion before I come up.”

  “Thanks, Andy.”

  I leaned back in Daddy’s oversized leather chair and rubbed the spot between my eyes. It didn’t help. Wearily I pulled the manuscript pages from my bag and smoothed them out on the desk. I might as well plough through my second reading. So far I’d found only one typo and no other changes but I knew Andy shared my father’s love of excellence. Before I gave him the copy it would have to be perfect.

  The words glared at me under Daddy’s brilliant reading light. I usually preferred a softer light for reading and my headache was worsening. I turned off the lamp and opened the heavy curtain instead, turning the chair to catch the natural light.

  The letters swam in front of my weary eyes. Finally I was forced to give up the effort. I closed the drapes and sat back in the chair, allowing the darkness to comfort me. What was it Yeats had said? Memories. Nothing but memories.

  ~~

  The problems between Ben and me didn’t start right away, but the groundwork was laid the moment our honeymoon was over. Daddy chose to go into a snit during our ‘welcome home’ dinner. He had not expected me to change my name to Williams. It had not occurred to him I might prefer to use my husband’s name instead of my father’s.

  “Desdemona Fortune,” he said, “that’s what we named you. It’s a perfectly good name. I thought this was the nineties. Does a woman still have to deny her individuality to appease a mate? Desdemona Williams – what the hell is that?”

  “It’s my name, Daddy,” I said quietly. Ben was upstairs unpacking. I didn’t want him to overhear the argument. “I don’t want to have this discussion. I’ve made my decision.”

  Daddy stomped off to his study to sulk. I dared to hope I’d heard the last of his complaints. I liked the name Desdemona Fortune, but I knew Ben would be hurt if I didn’t take his name. He was my husband. His feelings had to overrule Daddy’s surliness and my own vanity.

  Gail stayed sober. In fact, she abandoned her moody attitude and seemed to be determined to rejoin the human race. I didn’t know what had changed in her life, but I was grateful for the result. She laughed, smiled and hugged us all easily. When she went up to bed she even leaned over and kissed me on the cheek.

  “I love you,” she said. I nearly choked on my surprise.

  “I love you, too. Good night.”

  Gail stayed close to home for the two weeks while Ben and I waited for our new house to be ready. She helped with the housework and even helped us to pack. We went shopping for curtains and furniture. It was fun to spend the money Ben and I had received from Daddy’s circle of friends. Even Ben had to agree there was a positive side to having a big wedding. Gail and I roamed the shops with Lucy in tow.

  Moving day finally arrived. We spent the day at the new house, scrubbing and supervising the movers. When everything was done I ordered pizza. We sat around on boxes drinking pop and laughing.

  Our new bed hadn’t arrived yet so Ben and I pumped up air mattresses. Daddy opened a bottle of Champagne and served drinks all around to ‘Christen’ our home. Then he rounded up the family and said goodnight.

  Daddy and Lucy dropped Uncle Willard off on the way to their house. Gail stayed behind to help me in the morning. We made up the couch for her to sleep on.

  Gail and I sat up long after Ben had turned in. We watched an old movie and ate popcorn. Gail was uncharacteristically affectionate, resting her feet on my lap.

  When the movie was over I found an extra pillow i
n one of the boxes and tucked it under her sleepy head.

  “Mona,” she said, “I’m glad you married Ben.”

  “Me too.”

  “He’s a really great guy.”

  “Yes.”

  “I love you, Mona.”

  “I love you, too, Gail.” We hugged for a few moments and as I pulled away I glimpsed a tear in her eye.

  “I’m sorry I was such a shit,” she said.

  “It’s over now, honey. You’re back and that’s all that counts.”

  I felt an odd mix of warmth and sorrow as I changed into my pyjamas. But I was tired and it was late. Within minutes of brushing my teeth I had snuggled in close to my sleeping husband and my thoughts were drifting into dreamland.

  In my half-conscious state my imaginings found their way, as they so often did, to my mother. The ghost of Angelina Fortune sat on the end of my bed, swirling the ice around in her glass. She looked at me with the sweetest of smiles and I knew she loved me.

  “I approve of your husband,” she said.

  “Thank you, Mommy.”

  She patted my leg. “Take care of your sister,” she whispered. “She needs you.”

  “Which sister?”

  “You know which one.”

  “No I don’t,” I said, beginning to panic. “Tell me, Mom. What am I supposed to do?”

  “Just take care of her.”

  I started to cry. She raised her free hand in a gesture asking for silence. “You know which one.”

  I nodded. Suddenly I knew what she meant. She meant both sisters.

  Ben stirred beside me and I woke with a start. I tried to get comfortable again but my spine complained about the air mattress. My tossing woke Ben and we made love, sweetly and softly for the first time in our new house.

  EIGHT

  I slept like a rock in Daddy’s chair, not stirring till late in the afternoon. Finally I heard the sound of Lucy rattling around in her favourite place. I wandered out to the kitchen to see what she was up to. I was surprised to find myself hungry. We’d eaten a big lunch.