Alexandra looked first at the well-wrapped, distinctively shaped parcel with postal markings on it.
“Another violin? Who sent me a violin?”
“Well, why don’t you open it and find out?”
Alexandra unwrapped the parcel only to find the familiar case with D.C.D. on the lid.
“It’s Pépé’s violin! But I loaned it to Owen! Why –”
“I have no idea, either,” said Joseph. “Owen must be the one who sent it. Perhaps there’s a problem and they’re stranded in London. Perhaps your uncle’s condition has declined, so Owen felt an urgency to send the violin back to you. I don’t know.”
Alexandra squinted. She held the case up, examining it for damage. She saw none. Then she opened the lid and saw a handwritten note lying on top of the instrument. “Papa, there’s a note here! It’s from Owen! It says, ‘Alex, No time to explain. Hide this violin and don’t tell a soul you have it. Owen.’”
Alexandra stood in the café holding the scribbled note. She read it again, but the second reading revealed no more information than the first. She removed the instrument from the case and examined it carefully. It was in perfect condition.
“Why would he mail it back? It doesn’t make sense!” remarked Joseph. “Well, I think you should do what he says, at least until we find out what’s happened.”
“Yes, and he can explain why he’s not been at school all week, either.”
“You have one more letter. Actually, it came several days ago but I forgot to give it to you,” he said, passing her the envelope.
She slit the side of the envelope open and extracted the contents. She unfolded the paper and read the typed letter quickly through. “Papa! It’s the music festival Sir Charles and the Maestro have been telling me about! I’ve been invited! Oh please, please, can I go?” she said, bouncing up and down.
“Oh, another trip in the works, eh?” Marcie said as she approached.
“Yes indeed! This time to Ottawa!” Alexandra responded. Then turning to her father, she asked again, “Please, Papa, can I go?”
“You know, Alexandra, it will cut into your study time at school, and Ottawa is truly a very long way from home. Ha! Do you actually think I’d deny you the chance to move your music ahead? Of course you can go. In fact, we’ll all go. Why not? We could use the break. Besides, Ottawa will be lovely at that time of year. What do you think, Marcie? Can you come with us? Can you pry Denis away so he can come too?”
“Please, Marcie, please come!” Alexandra pleaded, holding the woman’s hands and bouncing up and down. “You’ll have a holiday! Imagine! You will finally be the one to stay in a grand hotel, have people serving you! Waiting on you! Oh it’ll be so wonderful!”
“Well now, we’ve been saving up a bit of money, perhaps for a trip to Niagara Falls. But why not Ottawa?”
* * *
When Friday arrived, Alexandra set off happily for school. She wore a plain dress, but since the weather was pleasant, she left her coat at home, choosing to wear the mustard yellow sweater. The grass was now starting to green up, and crocuses were peaking yellow, white, and violet blooms from between shrinking patches of snow. The air was filled with springtime freshness, and trickling meltwater formed little streams which sparkled in the April sunshine.
Upon entering the schoolyard, she immediately spotted Owen. “Hello, cousin! Where’ve you been? Are you all right? Thanks for mailing the violin to me, but you could’ve just brought it back with you, I wasn’t that anxious to get it back!”
“Hi, Alex. I’m all right, but there’s so much I have to tell you. There was a good reason to post the violin to you.”
“Please tell me! I have time!”
“Of course, but now is not the time or place. Have you done what I asked?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Good. Meet me here after school and I’ll tell you everything.”
“All right, but I have a violin lesson with the Maestro. You can walk with me there and tell me everything.”
* * *
Following the students’ dismissal, the two cousins began wending their way to the professor’s home.
“My father has come back from the dead, Alexandra, and now he’s home. But this is no happy resurrection.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let me start by saying that I played Pépé’s violin for him in hospital. When I played it, I got a vision. Now I know without any doubt that there is great power in that instrument.”
“What did you see in your vision, Owen?”
“It’s not so much what I saw, but what I now know. It wasn’t just a vision. It was a revelation.”
“Go on.”
“Alexandra, my father started the great fire many years ago because he was angry with someone. He kept the whole thing a secret all this time. My mother also knew what he’d done, yet she did nothing and said nothing.”
“My goodness, Owen,” she said matter-of-factly. She had no reason to doubt his words. To her, concrete proof of his sincerity had been delivered in the mail the previous day.
“I began by telling my mother about the vision I had of the fire. She got very upset and told me she didn’t want to hear any more, and that I was to destroy the violin. In the end, I wouldn’t do it. That’s why I mailed it to you. Again, you must not tell anyone you have it. She thinks I destroyed it.”
“Thank you, Owen, for that,” she said, finally realizing how close the heirloom had come to destruction.
“Oh I’m far from finished, Alex. There was much more to the vision. I was going to tell my mother about that too, but now I’m glad I didn’t. Alex, my father bragged to someone about the events surrounding the great fire. That person was taking legal steps to have my father put in jail. However, when he found out, he put a quick stop to it. The person who was trying to do this was – your mother.”
Alexandra stopped dead in her tracks. “My mother? But Owen, you said she had run off with a sailor!”
“Those facts had been twisted by my father over the years to make it look like your mother had just deserted you. The so-called sailor was actually a merchant seaman. He was nothing more than a worker on a ship. They had no romantic interest in each other at all.”
Alexandra stood on the sidewalk, trying to come to terms with yet another new reality shaking up her life. “Why hasn’t she written?”
“My father warned her against it. He told her that if she ever tried to visit, contact you, or if she should try to have him prosecuted again, that everyone’s fate would lie in ashes.”
“Oh Owen! Do you know what this means?”
“What?”
“It means my mama still loves me! Papa was right all along! She is loving me from afar!” she beamed, taking the boy’s hands in hers. Shortly afterwards though, her joy became decidedly muted. “Owen, my mama will never come here. She won’t allow any harm to come to me.”
“Yes, I know, but don’t worry. She won’t have to come here.”
“Why?” Alexandra asked, puzzled.
“Because you’re going to her.”
* * *
Alexandra felt it best not to say anything to Owen about her other visions – especially the one about their pépé in the kitchen of the farmhouse. The two cousins now had an unspoken agreement between them. Alexandra plainly knew that Owen was aware of her visions, yet she wasn’t prepared to fully trust him. The past is a hard thing to undo, she thought. She needed to discuss these matters with her father before deciding what to do next.
When the café closed later that evening, Alexandra had an idea. “Let’s go for a walk along the river,” she suggested to her father.
Joseph locked the café and they set off, strolling leisurely along the riverbank. As they strolled, they watched the ferries go back and forth across the river.
“Papa, please tell me how you met Mama,” Alexandra asked, watching her father’s face for a reaction. He raised the corners of his mouth into a half smile, his eyes
thoughtful and dreamy.
“Let’s see now. Your mother worked for your Uncle George’s law firm in those days. That’s how I met her. One time I visited my brother at his office, and there your mother was, all smiles. Oh she was such a pleasant lady! Sometimes she’d come to the café, and if I was there we’d have lunch together. We soon fell in love and got married, and two years later, you were born.”
“That sounds so romantic!” Alexandra said before changing her tone. “Now I have to ask you, please tell me how Mama left.”
Joseph sighed. “Well Angel, you were only four years old. Your pépé had died that spring, we still had the farm and your mother worked in the café. I was trying to manage the harvest – it was the last harvest before we sold the farm – and the weather was horrible. The farmhands and I were struggling to get all the work done. In fact, I had been out there for two weeks straight. I felt so bad, honestly, because your mama had to run the whole café by herself, plus she had to look after you. It was a really difficult time in her life, and I felt guilty because I wasn’t there to help. Then one day, your Aunt Clara arrived at the farm by coach with you and Owen. She said that the café was closed and your mother was gone. Are you sure you want to hear this?”
“Yes, Papa, I have to hear it. I remember Mama taking me to Aunt Clara’s. I thought it was just going to be a visit. I also remember riding out to the farm that day, but I want to know more. I want to know everything, especially the details.”
“All right then, I immediately went back to the café. It was closed, just as your Aunt Clara said. I went inside, and there was a note for me on the counter in an envelope. I still have the note, as a matter of fact. I memorized every word.”
“What did it say?”
“It said, ‘My Dearest Joseph, It breaks my heart to tell you that circumstances have forced me to leave you and our daughter. I wish you both a very good life. I wish things could have turned out differently. I love you and will never forget you. Helen.’ ” Joseph drew in an exasperated sigh. “Quite frankly, I was devastated, but I understood why. I wasn’t there when she needed me most. I can’t help but feel it was my fault because I left her overworked. She was later seen boarding a ship in the company of a sailor. In fact, there were several people who saw her.”
Alexandra dabbed her eyes. “Thank you for telling me this, Papa, but that’s not the real reason she left. I know what really happened.”
“What do you know? Did you get a vision about that?”
“It’s about a vision, yes, but it’s not my vision.”
“Whose vision?”
“Owen’s vision.”
Joseph looked at Alexandra, squinting his eyes.
“Papa, when Owen was in London, he played Pépé’s violin for Uncle George. You do know that the visions never lie.”
“The visions never lie. I understand that,” said Joseph. “But Owen lies. We can’t trust him.”
“Maybe, but I need to tell you about it anyway, Papa, especially if it’s true.”
“Well, all right then, go ahead – if you think it’ll help,” said Joseph.
“In Owen’s vision, Uncle George was responsible for the Great Fire of Windsor. He bragged about it to Mama and she tried to report him, but he found out and was very angry. He told her to leave town, never contact us and never try to report him again, or ‘our fate would lie in ashes.’ Papa, she was really afraid of Uncle George. He’s a horrible criminal, Aunt Clara knows it too but she doesn’t want to admit it. Also, I know that Mama still loves us. She didn’t want anything to happen to us, so she left with some worker on a ship to go to some secret place. That’s what happened.”
“It never ends, does it?” said Joseph, shaking his head. “Where did she go?”
“I think only Uncle George would know for sure. Do you want me to play for him? Maybe we can find out?”
“Under these circumstances, I do. However, even if you played for him, there’s no telling that your mother is still where he sent her. That was nine years ago! Anything could’ve happened, but it’s a start; it’s something. I’ll have to figure out how to get you close enough to your uncle so he can hear you play, because he will never voluntarily listen to you. Is it possible for you to take this information from his memory? I mean, could you take it from him as if you were asking a question? If so, we might be able to find your mother!”
“Papa, the visions just come to me. I don’t have any control over them and can’t choose which memories from people I want to see. The only thing I can do is try, and hope I can find out.”
“It’s all we can ask for. Good. I’ll work on a plan to get you within earshot of your uncle.”
Alexandra and Joseph returned to the café, their plan beginning to take shape. She went up to her bedroom, reached up on the shelf and took down the small, decorated box in which she kept all her valuable things. She placed the box down on her bed and took the items out, one by one. She examined each one carefully – especially the ones her mother had given her. She wondered if things could talk, what stories would they tell? With no one to speak on their behalf, every precious item in the box just remained some old thing, a passing curiosity at best. She longed for the answers to her questions, but the items remained silent, quiet reminders of days forever gone.
Chapter 30
The following Monday morning, Clara and George stepped outside into the bright spring sunshine. They were on their way to the law offices of Delmott, Cord & Brewster.
“I’m so glad you’re finally home dear and that you feel well enough to visit the office today,” said Clara as they walked. “The staff at work will be very happy to see you. So much has happened! People come and go and, in fact, Windsor even has a new police chief!”
“Yes, yes,” he said. “I’ll be meeting him soon enough. Before that, I’ve got a lot of work to do, people to see and, of course, unfinished business with Joseph, his kid, and that damned café that needs tending to.”
Clara shuddered at his remark. “You know dear, Clive has been doing a wonderful job managing your affairs. He has been real faithful about reporting to me every week. He even said that profits are up and that everyone at the law firm is so much happier.”
He scoffed at her words. “Are you saying it’s a happier place because I haven’t been there?”
“Why not at all George! Everyone misses you!” she said, catching herself in the very act of lying.
As the two continued their walk, Clara listened as George continued speaking about the myriad tasks that must be awaiting him after such a long absence. She knew as a businessman he hated surprises, wanting to know as many things as far in advance as possible.
The couple walked up the steps to the law firm and into the reception area.
The secretary was at her desk, as usual, and several office staff were busy with the daily goings-on of the law firm. When everyone noticed George, they stopped and stared at him as if he’d just returned from the dead.
George looked at everything – the new furniture, drapery, freshly papered walls, paintings, and even the new electric lighting. Clara stood next to him glowing as he surveyed it all.
“I designed it myself!” she said. “I knew you’d recover, so I thought I’d brighten things up a bit and welcome you back in style!”
George huffed. “Redecorated? Exactly who did you think would have to pay for all this?”
Clara’s face fell. “Why of course, you did, dear,” she said matter-of-factly. “Actually, it was your company that paid for it.”
“I can’t believe it! I get ill and everyone goes behind my back on a spending spree wasting my hard-earned money on frivolous extravagance! Who approved all this?”
“I did,” said an offended Clive Brewster, walking out of George’s office. “I see you’ve returned and brought the sunshine back with you.”
* * *
Owen left school early that day to help his mother prepare a special dinner at home, and soon the house began to fi
ll with the smell of roast beef. Owen knew his mother had taken particular pride in planning the meal. When George returned home that evening, the three family members sat at their usual places at the table.
“Delicious meal, Clara,” said George.
“Thank you, dear, I know it’s your favourite,” she replied, smiling and passing him the platter of meat.
George turned his attention to Owen. “You’ve hardly spoken two words to me since I returned, son. Is something the matter?”
Owen looked at the man who ate his dinner as if nothing at all was wrong in the world.
Aydy's Fiddle - The Memory Thief Page 25