Finding Isadora

by Fox, Susan

  “I certainly hope so,” Grace whispered.

  And sure enough, the judge said, “I find Mr. DeLuca’s argument persuasive. I’m going to release Mr. Wheeler on an undertaking to appear. Ms. Hodgson, I assume you’d like to see conditions attached?”

  The woman popped to her feet. “In light of his dual citizenship and the way he fled the States in 1970, the Crown requests that he be required to surrender his passport. We also request that he be required to stay away from the Cosmystiques building—or, rather, what remains of it.”

  Gabriel rose quickly. “Mr. Wheeler agrees to those conditions, Your Honor.”

  “Very well. So ordered. Now, Mr. DeLuca, let’s move on to the plea and election.”

  In less than two minutes, Jimmy Lee had entered his plea of not guilty and a date had been set for the preliminary inquiry, where the judge would determine if there was enough evidence to commit Jimmy Lee for trial.

  The date was more than two months away, which seemed a long way off, but I knew the Crown needed time to analyze the evidence from the fire. Time to build their case against my father.

  The clerk called the next case, and Jimmy Lee was on his feet, a free man, at least for now.

  “Thank god,” I sighed.

  “Goddess,” Grace corrected automatically. “And Gabriel.”

  She leaped to her feet as the two men walked toward us. Grace and Jimmy Lee embraced as if they hadn’t seen each other in a year.

  “Take it outside,” I muttered, then tugged on Jimmy Lee’s arm and pulled the two of them toward the door.

  In the hallway, Grace flung her arms around Gabriel. “Thank you.”

  “No problem. We got the right judge. Harminder Sharma is fair and she has some left-wing leanings of her own.”

  I hugged my dad, then touched his Grateful Dead T-shirt. “Next time you get arrested, you might want to be wearing a different shirt. Like, maybe, one with a peace symbol.”

  “I love you too, baby.” He turned to Gabriel. “What do we do next?”

  “We pray that woman in the hospital recovers,” he said grimly.

  “I think we should go and see how she’s doing,” Grace said.

  “I’d steer clear,” Gabriel advised. “She’s unconscious and likely her family will be there. They won’t be looking any too fondly on Jimmy Lee.”

  “Maybe you’re right,” Grace said meekly.

  I glanced at my mother. I knew that tone. When Gabriel had spoken about passive resistance, had he realized Grace Dean was a mistress of the art? She and Jimmy Lee would be at the hospital before the day was out. Should I warn their lawyer?

  When I glanced at Gabriel, he was staring at me with one of those intense, inscrutable expressions of his. It made my pulse flutter. Suddenly he blinked and said, “I have a client to see. I’ll be in touch later.”

  Before I could say a word, he was striding down the hall, moving so fast his suit jacket billowed out behind him.

  I let out a breath. The morning hadn’t gone badly at all. Jimmy Lee was free, and I hadn’t said anything stupid in front of Gabriel. In fact, we hadn’t even spoken to each other. The attraction was easier to resist when I didn’t have to interact with him.

  Outside the courthouse I said goodbye to my parents then walked the couple of miles home. When I got to my apartment, I dialed Richard. After I told him what had happened in court, he said, “That’s great. You must be so relieved.”

  “Hugely. Your father did a terrific job and we were lucky with the judge.”

  “Feel like getting together for dinner tonight? I could bring my laptop and we could check online for apartment rental ads.”

  “Wish I could, but I have to work. Let’s talk on the phone when we both get home.”

  I dealt with my menagerie, ate yogurt and fruit for lunch, then headed off to the clinic. My colleagues surrounded me, demanding to hear the latest about Jimmy Lee, and offering their support. Warmed by their consideration, I settled down to work.

  The West End Pet-Vet Clinic was officially open to patients from eight in the morning until eight at night, though occasionally one of the vets or assistants spent the night in order to keep an eye on an animal. The three of us vets—Felipe, Liz, and I—rotated shifts. Today, because of the swap, I’d be working the afternoon and evening.

  Days at the clinic tended to follow a pattern. First thing in the morning we got drop-offs from people on their way to work. We offered day-care for our patients, which benefited not only the working owners but ourselves as well because we could schedule the animals for treatment throughout the day at our convenience.

  After the initial morning flurry, we’d have an irregular flow of patients—animals belonging to retired people, shift workers, stay-at-home parents, and the occasional nine-to-fiver who took time off work to bring in an animal they were worried about. Most came by appointment but there were always a few emergencies—an animal with the sudden onset of frightening symptoms or one that had been in a fight or been hit by a car.

  Toward the end of the afternoon, business tended to be brisk as day-care patients were picked up, and people who worked during the day brought their pets in.

  We three vets also took turns making house calls because many of our clients were shut-ins—for reasons of health, disability, or age.

  The great thing about rotating schedules was that each of us vets got to know all of our clients, both the animals and the humans. Today, Joachim’s tabby needed worm pills and Peter and Cynthia’s cockatiel had an infection. Mrs. Enderby’s Pekingese had indigestion again, a perennial problem because the childless woman and her husband persisted in feeding the animal treats designed for humans.

  And then there were new clients. An adorable Shepherd cross pup who needed spaying, brought in by an equally adorable little boy and his mother. An injured squirrel a jogger had found in Stanley Park, to be patched up and returned to the wild.

  My last patient was a two-year-old beagle whose owners, a young gay couple, had just moved to Vancouver and wanted their dog checked over and “his file opened,” as they termed it. The lovely animal had epilepsy, possibly inherited from its parents, and was responding nicely to Phenobarbital, but I reviewed the dog’s diet and suggested some adjustments that would help to prevent liver damage.

  It was a busy, productive day, with no life-threatening injuries or illnesses and, thank heavens, no requests for animals to be put down. My mind and hands were kept occupied and, when I began the walk home, I congratulated myself on not fussing about Jimmy Lee—and on barely having thought of Gabriel.

  It was too late to be bothered with cooking a real meal, so I picked up pita bread and the ingredients for a Greek salad.

  It proved to be the perfect meal, together with a glass of white wine. After, I pulled out my knitting and, not finding anything that grabbed me on TV, watched an episode from a DVD of Noah’s Ark. It, and All Creatures Great and Small, a series based on the James Herriot books of the same name, were old British TV series about country vets. I pretty much had the episodes memorized—and the same with the Herriot books. Still, I never tired of them. They were comfort entertainment, never failing to relax me and make me smile.

  I was reading in bed when the phone rang around eleven. I said to Richard, “Caught me in bed with James Herriot again.”

  He gave the obligatory chuckle, then said, “It’s just as well we didn’t plan on dinner. A client came in at five o’clock with some urgent work and I’ve been at it ever since.”

  We compared notes on our days. When I told him about the beagle, he said, “Dogs get epilepsy?”

  “Some species are more prone to it. It’s likely there’s a genetic component.”

  “Genetic?”

  “Sure. Just like with humans. Some illnesses are hereditary, or genetic make-up can create a predisposition.”

  “Hmm.”

  We talked a few minutes longer but Richard seemed preoccupied. He must be exhausted after such a long day at the offi
ce, so I said, “Go to bed now, sweetheart.”

  “Good idea. Love you, Iz.”

  “Love you, too.”

  * * *

  The next morning Grace phoned me at the clinic. “Have you got any stray animals that need a home? Maybe a kitten? Small and cuddly?”

  I’d expected her to talk about her concerns about Jimmy Lee, or their strategy for proving his innocence, and it took me a moment to shift gears. Then I frowned in puzzlement. She’d protested—though only half-heartedly—when I’d brought them Woodstock. “I thought you couldn’t take any more.”

  “It’s not for us, it’s for Alyssa.”

  “Who’s Alyssa?”

  “Alyssa McKenzie. She’s the daughter of that poor woman who was injured in the fire at Cosmystiques.”

  By now I’d thought that nothing my parents might say or do would surprise me, but this statement rendered me speechless. When I found my voice again I said, “You went to the hospital. I expected that. But how does the kitten come in?”

  “As Gabriel said, Cassie McKenzie was unconscious, but her friend, Shawna, was there. Shawna lives in the same building and she was babysitting Alyssa when Cassie went to the lab to do some overtime. Cassie’s a single parent and she wanted to earn extra money because Alyssa’s birthday—her seventh—is coming up. Anyhow, Shawna can’t keep Alyssa.”

  I had a horrible feeling that I knew where this rambling story was heading. “The father’s not around?”

  “No, not since before Alyssa was born. And there are no other relatives in town. Cassie’s parents are up in Kelowna and she’s estranged from them. Besides, Alyssa shouldn’t be so far away from her mother.”

  I closed my eyes and gripped the phone more tightly. “Are you saying you and Jimmy Lee have taken Alyssa?”

  “Of course.”

  Of course. I raised my free hand and massaged my temples, which had begun to throb. My parents had taken in the daughter of the woman Jimmy Lee was accused of having put in the hospital. I could just imagine how Cassie McKenzie would feel when she regained consciousness.

  Was there any hope my parents had at least gone through proper channels? Not likely. I knew what Jimmy Lee thought of the Ministry of Children and Family Development. “Who authorized it?”

  “Shawna.” There was a pause and then Grace said, “Well, if we’d gone through the Ministry it never would have happened, would it? The girl would be sent to a foster home. That’s no good. She’s just a child, worried about her mother.”

  I sympathized, but didn’t they realize that right now, Jimmy Lee’s interests had to come first? Sternly, I asked, “Have you talked to Gabriel about it?” I knew darned well they hadn’t or he’d have straightened them out.

  “What’s it got to do with him?”

  My mom was blustering. Grace knew the answer perfectly well, but still I had to say it. “If Cassie McKenzie recovers, she could probably have you charged with abduction. You shouldn’t have done this without at least talking to Gabriel.”

  Grace was silent for a few seconds, then she said, “Do you have an animal or not?”

  I sighed in exasperation. “What on earth for?”

  “The child is distressed. She loves animals and we thought it would help if she had one of her own to look after and care about.”

  “I’m sure it would. But have you thought about afterward? What happens when her mother’s well enough to take her back? Maybe their apartment doesn’t take pets, maybe she’s allergic, maybe she wouldn’t want Cassie to have an animal. She’s the girl’s mother; it should be her decision.” Why did I always have to be the grownup in the family?

  “I suppose you’re right.” My mother sounded so dejected that my heart softened.

  “Look, it’s a sweet idea, but I don’t think it’s practical. How about putting Alyssa in charge of Woodstock and the boys? It’ll distract her, and hopefully she’ll understand that they’re your cats and won’t be going home with her.”

  “I suppose.”

  “If she’s really keen on animals, maybe she’d like to visit the clinic on the weekend.”

  My mother’s voice brightened. “That sounds great. Maybe Sunday?”

  “Yes, that should work.”

  “Thanks, hon. We’ll talk later in the week and arrange a time. Bye for now.”

  “Grace? You need to tell Gabriel about this.”

  “Oh? You think he’d like a tour of the clinic, too?” There was a spark of mischief in her voice.

  I gave an exaggerated groan and hung up on her. At least when I had kids I’d be wise to all the tricks they might come up with. No child could possibly be as devilish as my parents. The only problem was that, while I knew the tricks, I hadn’t found ways of dealing with them.

  Should I phone Gabriel and tell him what his clients were up to? It was clear Grace had no intention of doing so. Did I want to talk to the man again?

  I listened to my heart and got a resounding yes/no, which was enough to tell me not to call.

  * * *

  I was meeting Janice for lunch. Her school was a few blocks from the Pet-Vet Clinic, and we often met at one of the informal, deli-style restaurants nearby. She’d texted yesterday when she read the news of Jimmy Lee’s arrest, and I’d said I would fill her in over lunch today.

  Arriving first, I claimed a window table and, to avoid thinking of my father’s plight or of Gabriel, pulled a magazine out of my backpack. Every month, I popped into the neighborhood branch library and picked up family and home decorating magazines, which I browsed in spare moments. Today’s was Better Homes and Gardens, a magazine I’d bet my mother had never picked up in her entire life.

  I leafed through, then stopped, my attention arrested by a photo of a large, sunny kitchen. Yes, I could imagine myself cooking breakfast there, a couple of animals underfoot, Gabriel calling— What? Gabriel? What was he doing in this picture? No, it was Richard, of course it was Richard, calling from his den to ask if I’d seen his briefcase. Then our two kids would pound down the stairs from their bedrooms, run into that beautiful kitchen…

  That huge kitchen, bigger than my whole apartment. Decadent. Conspicuous consumption. Across town, people were starving.

  I tugged on one of my pussy-cat earrings and let out a sigh.

  Janice plopped down in the chair across from me. “Hey, Izzie, how’s it going?”

  I rotated the magazine to face her and stabbed the photograph with a finger. “Tell me it’s not wrong to want a kitchen like this.”

  Janice glanced at the magazine and then at my face. Her nose crinkled and her eyes squinted up as she began to smile. “Boy, your parents have really done a number on you. Of course it’s not wrong to want a nice home. We’re women; that’s normal for us.”

  “It’s not just my parents,” I confessed. “The after-dinner speech at the fundraiser on Saturday—” I broke off, not wanting to get into another discussion of Gabriel.

  “Fundraisers are specifically designed to make people feel guilty and shell out.” She shook her head vigorously, making her shiny black hair fly out in a fan. “Don’t let that speaker get to you.”

  If Janice only knew how hard I was trying not to.

  “Let’s get some food, then I want to know what’s up with Jimmy Lee,” she said.

  Over the years Janice had heard many Jimmy Lee stories and usually shook her head in amused tolerance. But when I told her this one, as we both munched on Thai noodle salads, she looked more and more concerned. “That’s really bad. Let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You don’t seem all that worried.”

  “I know he’s innocent.”

  “Yeah, I’ve known Jimmy Lee forever and of course he wouldn’t do anything like that. But, Iz… I don’t want to worry you, but innocent people do get sent to jail, right?”

  “Richard’s father won’t let that happen.”

  “This is the hot guy, right?”

  I winced. “I
never should have told you that.”

  “That means you still think he’s hot.”

  “I’m losing my mind.”

  “Hey, Izzie, it’s like that cupcake store down the street, eh? You can walk past and stare in the window, but it’s not a problem unless you succumb and dash inside and buy everything in sight.”

  “I’m definitely not going to succumb. I mean, not that he’d want me to, or anything.”

  “You don’t figure he thinks you’re hot, too?”

  I shook my head quickly, then winced again. “Well, maybe, just a little. He has this weird, intense way of looking at me. It makes me feel, I don’t know, all tingly. No-one’s ever looked at me that way, so probably I’m reading it wrong. Maybe he’s just thinking I’m totally wrong for Richard.” Thinking of my fiancé reminded me… “Hey, I didn’t tell you our news. Richard and I are going to look for an apartment and move in together.”

  She squealed with delight. “Ooh, I’m so envious! Tell me all about it.”

  “I’d love to, but I’m due back at work.”

  Glancing at her watch, she said, “Yikes, how did it get to be so late?”

  Hurriedly, we left the restaurant, then, just as we were saying our goodbyes, she snapped her fingers. “Knew there was something I forgot. Martin Swallow and I talked on the phone and we’re going to have coffee on Saturday and discuss tutoring.”

  “That’s great, I hope it works out for both of you.”

  * * *

  I was working the evening shift on Thursday when a golden retriever came in with what’s commonly known as bloat. Hers was a serious case requiring fairly complicated surgery, and Felipe, one of the other vets, assisted me.

  The operation went well, but I decided to spend the night at the clinic so I could monitor her condition. The couch in our break room was a pullout, which we used for just this purpose.