“I’ve just been thinking a lot about the future.”
George put down his fork and gazed at the boy. “Really?” he said. “You’re actually thinking about something? It’s high time you’ve given serious thought about doing something with your life. So far you’ve been nothing but a bitter disappointment to your mother and me.”
“Now, now George,” said Clara.
“Was I talking to you, woman?” he snapped.
“Of course I know what I want to do with my life,” said Owen.
George was incredulous. “Perhaps you’d care to share this divine revelation with the rest of the world?”
“Of course I would. I’d like to be a lawyer.”
George sat back in his chair laughing. “You really do have no concept of reality at all, do you? Only smart people can be lawyers. You’re living in a dream world of fantasy and illusion. You’re a walking, talking failure, Owen. There’s nothing about you that convinces me you could be a lawyer at all.”
Clara did not speak, nor did she turn her head to look at George. She glanced in his direction but quickly lowered her eyes.
“I’ll be a lawyer all right,” said Owen. “In fact, I want to be a lawyer like Clive Brewster.”
“You’re rather rude, aren’t you? Why like Brewster? What’s so special about him?”
“I like and respect Mr. Brewster. He’s an honourable man.”
George froze for a moment, glaring at Owen. Enraged, he stood straight up, grabbed the table ledge and with one mighty thrust, heaved the whole end of the table up and over, sending their dinner, dishes, cups and cutlery crashing to the floor.
“What do you mean? Is that your way of saying I have no integrity?”
Owen sat defiant in his chair as his sobbing mother tried to salvage their spilled dinner and collect the broken pieces of china from the floor. “I –”
“Now you listen carefully to me, you rude little boy,” shot George, face red, pointing his finger straight at Owen’s face. “You know nothing of how the world really works and how ruthless people can be! You have to rule them with an iron fist! You can’t give them any ground at all or they’re going to walk all over you for the rest of your life. The sooner you understand that, the sooner you’ll succeed. What’s gotten into you, anyway? You’ve changed and I don’t like it.”
“Well, Father, while you were in hospital, I decided to change the course of my life.”
“Hallelujah! It’s a miracle!” said George, throwing his arms in the air and sitting back down in his chair. “Whatever on earth inspired you to do that?”
“It all began by deciding to tell the truth, Father. From there it moved to not twisting all the facts around. I also decided that, while I’m at it, I would never force people to do things by threatening them. I’d also never get revenge on people by burning down their homes and offices.”
“Is that your way of saying I’ve done all these things, Owen? Is it, boy?”
“Only you would know that for sure.”
“What makes you think so? Oh, wait, I know! You’ve been getting that little witch to perform her magic tricks in front of me while I was laid up in hospital, haven’t you?”
“No,” said Owen, rising confidently from his chair. “I played Pépé’s violin there. I saw the whole thing and I saw what you did. You will never get away with it.”
“George,” said Clara while making a pile of broken china. “I made him destroy the violin.”
“Good. At least you’ve done something useful in your lives, the both of you. Now you two remember well these words: if you know what’s good for you, you will not breathe a word of these things to anyone. Furthermore, we will never talk about this again, for if you do, I shall personally ensure your fates are exactly the same as those people you saw in those visions.”
* * *
“The world will laugh with you, but it’s not going to cry with you.” Alexandra remembered the words of the professor as she lay awake in bed late that night. She reasoned that people might sympathize with her plight, with the fact that her mother was living in a faraway place, but no one would do anything to help her and she’d somehow have to do it all herself. She also reasoned that hers was a much different situation than the professor had. His Valentina left because she wanted to. However, Alexandra knew that her mother left not for any selfish reasons, but because she really feared her brother-in-law, feared how powerful he was and what he could do. She probably felt it was the only way to protect her family. Furthermore, the vision of her Uncle George refusing to help her pépé was as troubling to her as Owen’s vision must have been to him.
Sometimes, evil wins.
* * *
Alexandra, deeply troubled, didn’t fall asleep until late that night. She was grateful her father allowed her to sleep in on Tuesday and miss school, but by mid-morning she was up and in the café having breakfast. Charlie and his friends were in their usual places, Mrs. Labonte and Mrs. Tellier were gossiping as always, and Marcie and staff were tending to the customers.
“I’ll have a little fiddle music with my coffee, please, Miss Aydy!” said a jovial Charlie as Alexandra picked at her meal.
She looked at Charlie; he was always such a happy man. Despite how she felt, she didn’t have the spirit to refuse him and sour this good man’s mood. Sighing, she went upstairs to get her violin. When she returned, she decided she’d play an assortment of music which reflected the time of year – sunny, bright and colourful. Perhaps if she played this music, her own mood would change as well.
Alexandra raised the violin up to her shoulder, but before she could play, the brass bell on the door clattered angrily. She looked over at the intrusion to find her uncle standing there. He was not alone. In fact, all eyes were focused on him as he stood talking with the new chief of police, a constable and several men. A strange, middle-aged woman joined them a few moments later.
“Is Mr. Joseph Delmott here?” said the chief.
At that moment, Joseph appeared from the kitchen. “What’s going on here?”
“Are you Joseph Delmott?” said the chief.
“I am.”
“Mr. Delmott, you are under arrest for arson.”
“Arson? What do you mean?”
“Mr. Delmott, you’re under arrest for causing the Great Fire of Windsor back in ’71. These witnesses have come forward placing you at the scene of the crime. Please do not make this any more difficult than it has to be. You will be granted a fair trial.”
“George! What have you got to do with this?” said Joseph.
“Remember, dear brother, nobody crosses me. This day was a long time in the making, a day we can proudly say justice was served.”
Alexandra, still holding her violin, ran up to her father and wrapped her arms around him. “Papa, no! It’s not true!” she said, crying. Turning to the chief, she continued. “My Uncle George is lying! My father would never do such a thing!”
“I’m afraid that will be for the courts to decide,” said the chief.
“That’s right,” said George. “You know, with the complexity involved in prosecuting this case, it could take years.”
“What about Alexandra?” said Joseph. “What will happen to her if I’m in jail?”
“No worries, Joseph. Mrs. Crawford is here to take her to a residential school in Toronto.” He turned his attention to Alexandra. “We all know how fond you are of Toronto, right? There you can learn all the useful skills for a woman. You know, practical things such as cooking, sewing and cleaning.”
“Can’t wait to get back into action, can you George?” said Marcie.
George scowled at her. “This has nothing to do with you, woman! Do not interfere with these proceedings.”
“Play for me, Aydy,” said Charlie, but looking at George.
“We want to hear a song!” said Mrs. Labonte and Mrs. Tellier.
“Please, Alexandra, some music!” said Marcie.
Alexandra looked at her instru
ment, wondering if it would be appropriate to play it under such dire circumstances. Then she noticed the little nick in the neck of the instrument, the worn ebony, the darker colour of the wood. She realized she had taken the wrong violin and now all eyes were focused on her to play. She looked up at her father for approval.
“Play a song for us on your violin, Alexandra,” said Joseph. “And make it sing.”
“What for?” said George. “She’s wasting time!”
“I don’t see any harm in her playing a song,” said the chief.
George stood in the middle of the café glaring at the girl. “Well,” he scoffed. “It doesn’t make any difference now.”
Alexandra began playing a rendition of “The Blue and the Gray,” an old song which was popular during the U.S. Civil War. As she played, she closed her eyes. The song was soft, enchanting, and the melody carried with it the essence of bygone days, youthful ambitions, sacrifice. Everyone in the room became entranced by the magic developing around them as their memories from that time came flooding back. Even George was not immune, the haunting notes finding a place in his memory. The magic of the music was making it difficult for him to concentrate. He soon found himself being pulled back through time, through space, all the way back to that fateful night of 1871.
With just the faintest hint of dawn creeping through the window and into the bedroom where his wife slept, George Delmott turned the doorknob and entered the room.
“Where in God’s name have you been?” Clara asked, sitting up in bed.
“Do you remember Max Barker?” said George, unaware that he was speaking aloud in the café. “I taught him a damned good lesson for crossing me. He refused to sell me his property, so I settled accounts with him.”
“Who’s Max Barker?” asked Clara in the vision.
“Max Barker? He’s the man I was trying to buy the property from in Windsor! It was a real estate transaction. You know I had my eye on that property for a long time. I wanted him to sell it to me, to sign the contract, and he refused to do it.”
“What did you do?”
“So I set fire to the little shop next door! I have strength, I have courage, I’ll tell you that! I set fire to the shop knowing full well it would spread to Max’s building and I’d get my revenge. No one would ever suspect it!” he said, boasting.
“Did anybody see you, dear?”
“Unfortunately, Bill Rennon and Hugh MacPherson saw me. However, they’ll stay quiet. I’m quite sure of that. I’ll keep them in my pocket. If the situation ever arises, they’ll just come forward and say that Joseph burnt it down. Joseph didn’t like Max either, so the story is credible.”
Alexandra played the melody all the way through, but everyone’s attention was focused on George. The whole café was hushed, save for a few people murmuring to themselves. After Alexandra stopped playing, she held the violin at her side and stared at her uncle.
“Did everyone hear what he just said?” remarked the police chief.
“I’d have never believed it!” said one.
“The truth comes finally comes out!” said another.
“It’s true!” said MacPherson. “He came to us the other day and said he needed to collect a favour. He threatened us if we wouldn’t cooperate!”
“Well, this puts things into whole different light,” said the chief. “Joseph Delmott, you’re free. Thank you, George, for your confession. You are under arrest for arson and intimidating witnesses.”
“What? But how?” said George, emerging from the vision. “Oh you tricked me! You little witch!” he cried, glaring at Alexandra. At that moment he lunged towards her and she darted behind her father. Joseph rushed forward and pushed back against George, locking his hands around the man’s flailing wrists as he tried taking wild swings to get at the girl. “I’m going to kill you, you witch!” he cried over and over. Charlie had already sprung from his chair and began forcing his way between the two brothers. The constables and the chief pulled George back and pushed him to the floor, face down. “You ruined my life!” George screamed. “I’ll make sure you pay with yours!”
“Attempted murder and uttering a death threat,” added the police chief with deft professionalism. “You all witnessed that, too. All right George, calm down, calm down. We’re going to the police station,” he said as the constable handcuffed the sobbing man. “You’ve got a lot of serious explaining to do.”
* * *
The human mind is difficult to understand with thoughts moving in and out like breezes waving and fanning out across a grassy field. With this thought in mind, Alexandra rationalized that she really had no control over the events that led to the arrest of her uncle. She had simply played her music, but the thoughts and memories belonged to him – he created those memories himself and he alone was responsible for them.
Alexandra did not go to school at all the day her uncle was arrested. Instead, she and Joseph decided to step away from the café and go for a walk to check on the construction of their new house and restaurant.
As they strolled, a streetcar would occasionally pass by, rattling and screeching along its rails. Joseph and Alexandra rarely took the streetcar, for everything they needed was fairly close by. Besides, it was a lovely spring day and perfect for walking.
“How can bad things happen on such a lovely day?” Alexandra wondered aloud to her father. “I’ve never understood that. I see the bees buzzing in the flowers, carrying on with their business. The grass grows, the birds sing, the sun shines. They know nothing of what’s going on in the world today.”
“Yes, well I’m sure that even they realize the world is not a perfect place. It never will be. There are always going to be problems of some kind somewhere. If we wait for everything to be perfect, we’re going to miss out on the everyday beauty we see around us. However, our world is filled with love, joy, hope and countless wonders – all the small things we see around us every day. This is one of the problems with us adults. We get caught up in our busy lives and never pay attention to the interesting details. I’m glad you notice them, and I hope you always will.”
“I hope so too, Papa. I also have hope that someday I’ll see Mama again.”
“What did you see in your vision today? Was there anything there about your mother?”
“Papa, if you can believe it, I didn’t see anything because I didn’t have a vision at all.”
“But how could it be? You heard your uncle George in the café confessing his guilt!”
“Yes, he did. I’ve never been able to understand everything that happens, but maybe that’s not so important – except for one thing.”
“What’s that?”
“I was hoping to get a vision of where Uncle George sent Mama. He must know where she is.”
“If visions won’t tell you, it’s going to be almost impossible to get your uncle to tell us. I know my brother. He won’t do or say anything to make his problems any worse. That being true, we do have some hope. Your uncle’s arrest will no doubt make the national papers. I can only pray your mother reads one of them and realizes it’s safe to come home.”
Chapter 31
When Alexandra and her father arrived at the building site, the workers were just as busy as the bees Alexandra had described earlier. The air was filled with the smell of freshly cut wood and the irregular, clanking sound of hammers could be heard everywhere.
“There’s so much progress, Papa!” Alexandra said, looking around.
“I’m glad to see it too. If they keep up at this rate, we should be open by summer,” said Joseph, surveying the framework of the newly erected structure. “Do you see that window there?” he said, pointing to a framed-in dormer on the still-open roofline. “That’s where your room will be, and mine is across the corridor.”
“Can I go up and have a look?”
“Yes, but please be careful and mind your step. This is no place for a woman in a dress.”
Alexandra smiled and, amid the clutter of building ma
terials, walked up to the new house. She navigated her way through where the main foyer would be and then up the stairs, which still had no railings to protect clumsy people from falling over the side. She arrived at the top and looked up at the sky from between the roof trusses and down a corridor in front of her. There was a bedroom on each side of the corridor, and she looked towards the room which would soon be hers.
Her new bedroom would be much larger than her current room. Despite this, she sighed when she noticed that her father’s room was much smaller than hers. The man must have thought he had no need of a large room because there was no one to share it with. In any event, she looked through the framed-in window of her father’s room towards the street. From her vantage point she surveyed the whole construction scene and spotted her father talking to some workers. She was about to shout and wave to him when another sight caught her eye – Aunt Clara and Owen approaching from down the street. She gasped and turned round quickly, dashing back down the stairs through the partially built home. She joined her father just as Clara and Owen arrived.
Aydy's Fiddle - The Memory Thief Page 26