Kaleidoscope

by Gail Bowen

“No, it would be open to everybody. Fees would be adjusted to income. People in North Central would have the same access as people in The Village, they just wouldn’t have to pay as much.”

  “That’s a brave idea,” I said. “I guess I don’t have to point out that the sooner the people of North Central are involved in the development phase, the better.”

  “No. I learn my lessons,” Leland said. “Jo, do you think Riel Delorme would talk to me?”

  I remembered Mieka’s toast “to all of us.” Making Riel part of the planning process would be a step towards healing the breach that had developed between us.

  “I’ll ask him,” I said. “Leland, you’re not the only one who’s learning lessons from this. Riel is smart enough to realize that he’s fighting a losing battle. The Village is going to be built. That’s a fact. The people in North Central need a place that will foster community development, and that’s been a fact for a long time. The kind of centre you’re talking about could be the place where the two neighbourhoods can really come together.”

  “So you’ll talk to Riel?”

  “I will.”

  “Good.” Leland sipped his Scotch. “Jo, what would you and Mieka think about making UpSlideDown2 part of the facility?”

  “It’s worth considering,” I said. “But you’re talking about a long-term project, and we’d like to open our doors this fall.”

  “Well, keep the possibility in mind,” Leland said. He drained his glass. “Now Zack tells me you like to run in the morning. Would you be interested in running with me?”

  “I hear you’re into Iron Man training, Leland. You’re out of my league.”

  “I’m adaptable. It’s a new neighbourhood for you. I thought you might like company.”

  “I would. What time do you usually run?”

  “Five, but if that’s too early, I can make it five-thirty.”

  “Five is fine,” I said. “I’ll meet you by the elevator. Now I guess we should join the others.”

  Over the years, I’d come to know many of Ed and Barry’s friends, so after Angus and I had caught up on each other’s news, I just drifted and visited. Judge Penney Murphy and I talked fashion, a subject on which we were in accord. When Judge Murphy admired my dress, I told her I’d trade her the dress and my stilettos for the comfortable black slacks, elegant silk shirt, and sensible flats she was wearing.

  Ed was as happy as I’d ever seen him. When we found a few minutes to be alone together, I said, “I don’t need to ask if today was everything you’d dreamed it would be.”

  “It was better. Thank you for everything.”

  “All I did was show up.”

  “That’s all you had to do. You’re very dear to me, Jo. I hate seeing your life turned upside down.”

  “It’ll be right side up again,” I said. “Meanwhile, there’s a lot to take care of, and Zack’s got the Cronus case starting tomorrow. I’m just relieved I’m free to handle things during the day and meet Zack at the door wearing Saran Wrap and holding a martini.”

  Ed’s round face creased in a smile. “Glad your sense of humour is intact.”

  “I’m fine,” I said. “After the first shock, the only option is to adjust.”

  “Have you been through your house yet?”

  “No. The police say it’s too dangerous.”

  “You shouldn’t have to go through it alone,” Ed said. “When the police say the time is right, I’ll come with you.”

  “You and Barry have just been married. You’ll want to have time together.”

  “We’ve been together for twenty-seven years, Jo. Our honeymoon will be in September when we go to Europe. We’ll be gone two months, so of course Barry thinks he has to get two months of work into his business before we leave. Till September, I’m going to have plenty of time on my hands.”

  “You’re a good friend.”

  “I hope so, but my offer isn’t wholly altruistic. I’m not a greenhorn, Jo. I understand that there are compelling reasons to oppose the Village Project, but the people who killed Danny Racette and blew up your house have to be stopped. This is a big story and I want to be inside it. I’m going to keep working North Central.”

  I felt my heart clutch. “Ed, did you get a good look at Declan Hunter’s face today?”

  “I couldn’t help but notice, but I didn’t want to embarrass him by asking about it. What happened?”

  “After he saw our house yesterday, he went to North Central to ask questions. He approached a boy he thought of as a friend. The friend came at him with a sawed-off baseball bat.”

  Ed winced. “Declan’s lucky to be walking around.”

  “I think Declan’s figured that one out. Ed, the activities of the gangs may be a great story, but those guys play for keeps. I’ll be more than glad to have you come with me when I look at the house, but don’t get involved in the fight about the Village Project. You and Barry have waited a long time for this marriage. You deserve a chance to live happily ever after.”

  Dinner was a relaxed affair. There was no head table, but our family sat with Ed and Barry and Barry’s best man and the nephew who had read from Corinthians. It was a happy, happy meal. After we’d eaten, Ed’s best man and I both proposed toasts that were affectionate and unmemorable. Ed and Barry cut the cake and thanked us all for coming, then following the old tradition, they announced that they were leaving early to start their new life together.

  I was beside Angus when the moment came for Ed to toss his spectacular bouquet. Mieka and the girls were standing by the koi pool. When Ed raised his arm to throw the flowers, Angus yelled, “Go deep, Mieka,” then pulled out his smartphone. A lifetime of playing touch football with her brothers paid off. Mieka went deep and when she caught the flowers she raised them above her head in triumph, and Angus got his picture. When Mieka bent to give each of her daughters an orchid, Angus kept snapping. Madeleine took her orchid solemnly. Lena reattached her fake ponytail, shoved in the orchid, and swanned off. Angus held up his phone to show me the photos.

  “Amazing,” I said. I put my arm around his shoulder. “It is so good to have you around. You are missed.”

  “I’ll be back for the long weekend.”

  “I know. I also know that you’re having a great summer in Calgary, and I shouldn’t be greedy.”

  “You’re not greedy. You’re a mother.” Angus’s resemblance to Ian was remarkable: the same dark good looks and grace, the same quicksilver mood changes. He had been beaming, but suddenly his face darkened. “Is there someplace we can talk for a few minutes, Mum? I mean privately.”

  “Sure. We can go downstairs to Leland’s condo. He’s letting us use it when we’re in town. Angus, is something wrong?”

  “No. Everything’s great. There’s just something I need to show you.”

  Angus went over to the table where he’d been sitting and picked up his briefcase. When he came back, he looked into my face and frowned. “I’m making too big a deal of this. Really, everything’s fine, Mum. Let’s go downstairs and I’ll explain.”

  When Angus walked into Leland’s, he gazed around and whistled. “Wow. Imagine living in a place like this.” He pointed to the butcher-block table. “Okay if we sit here?”

  “Of course.”

  Angus opened his briefcase and removed a bulging paper file folder. There were elastic bands around the file to keep the contents secure.

  Angus handed the folder to me. “Patrick Hawley, one of the other summer students, dropped this on my desk this morning. He thought it must belong to me.”

  “Why?” I said.

  “Take a look.”

  The file was filled with newspaper clippings. The one on top was a photo of me, blank-faced at Ian’s funeral holding my children’s hands. I turned to the next clipping. It was another picture of Ian’s funeral. Angus was crying and the premier, our friend Howard Dowhanuik, had dropped to his knees to console him. There were more stories about the funeral and a half-dozen obituaries. And then,
in chilling reverse chronology, the focus shifted to stories about Ian’s death at the side of a snowy highway in what had seemed, for years, to be a random act of violence. Then the focus shifted again. This time to Ian triumphantly alive: being sworn in as Attorney General and deputy premier, making speeches, giving press conferences, answering questions in the legislature. And then a front-page photo of Ian and me, impossibly young, on that first election night when we won and were faced with the job of forming government. And then the prelude: stories of the campaign leading up to that amazing victory, and before that pictures of Ian winning the nomination for Regina Lakeview, and then finally to pictures and articles about the time when it all began when Ian, as a Crown prosecutor, began to dream big dreams.

  I closed the file folder. “I don’t get it,” I said.

  Angus shook his head. “Neither do I.”

  “How did this end up with Patrick?”

  “Through a screw-up,” Angus said. “When Falconer Shreve decided to expand, Norine MacDonald hired a guy to cull the paper files – keep what was relevant and send the rest off to storage. When the boxes kept arriving, the guy had a total breakdown. I guess he had no idea what a mountain of paper a firm like Falconer Shreve could build up in thirty years. Anyway, he spun right out. He sent half the boxes to the new Calgary office, squirrelled away everything else wherever he could find space, moved to Winnipeg, and got a job as a server at a Chinese restaurant called Hu’s on First.”

  “Talk about a cautionary tale.” I laughed.

  Angus grinned. “I guess. Anyway, he made some work for Pat and me and the other summer students. We’re doing what he was supposed to have done.”

  “Going through the files to decide what to keep,” I said. I placed my hand on the folder. “And the most recent material in here is fifteen years old. Angus, do you know what this looks like? Material from a newspaper morgue.”

  Angus’s look was questioning.

  “An archive database,” I said. “Although that term is probably outdated, too. Anyway, newspapers used to keep files like this for people who’d been in the news so they could write an obituary when the person died.”

  “Do you think you should talk to the police?” Angus said. “Given everything else that’s happened, I’m not crazy about the idea of some nutbar out there keeping a file about you.”

  “This file isn’t about me,” I said. “It’s about your dad. I was just incidental.”

  “It’s still creepy.”

  “I agree,” I said. I closed the file. “And I will talk to the police, but, Angus, don’t tell Zack about this. He’s got enough on his mind. I’ll call Norine tomorrow and see if she has any idea about where the file came from, but my guess is that at some point in the past fifteen years somebody was doing research on your father’s career and simply lost interest in the project.”

  “You’re probably right,” Angus said, but he didn’t sound convinced. “Keep me in the loop, Mum. I hope this didn’t wreck the wedding for you.”

  “It didn’t,” I said. I picked up the folder. “I’ll stick this out of the way and pick it up later. It’s time we got you and your smartphone back to the reception.”

  Angus had to leave early to catch his flight back to Calgary. Pete and his girlfriend drove him to the airport, so Zack and Taylor and I were able to take the elevator to the condo without subterfuge.

  After Taylor went upstairs to check out her new digs on the second floor, I turned to Zack. “I’m going to take off the killer dress and the killing shoes. Do you want to watch?”

  “You bet.” As he wheeled into the bedroom after me, Zack’s smile was wolfish.

  He undid the back zipper slowly and kissed the middle of my back. “Are you busy for the next half-hour?”

  I slid the dress off. “Nope. Nothing to do but bring you pleasure.”

  “Let’s get at it,” he said.

  I went to the door and called up to Taylor. “Your dad and I are going to have a nap. If anybody calls, just tell them we’ll call them back.”

  Zack grinned at me. “Do you hear the sound of our daughter’s eye-rolling at that mention of a ‘nap’?”

  “It’s good for her to know we love each other. But we are going to have to be a little quieter. This condo is all open space, and sound carries.”

  “No more yodelling when I come?”

  I bent down to kiss him. “You can still yodel. Just dial it back a little.”

  We were showered, dressed, and Zack was making tea when there was a buzz from downstairs. Zack wheeled towards the intercom. “I’m expecting this,” he said. “I have to work on my opening statement and Norine sent this stuff over so I wouldn’t have to leave you and go over to the office,” Zack said.

  “It’s Sunday, Zack. Whatever you pay Norine isn’t enough,” I said.

  “Norine reminds me of that frequently.”

  I carried a cup of tea up to Taylor. She was studying at an old trestle table. “Leland must have used this room to work in,” I said.

  “He did,” Taylor said. “He told me he liked this room because he could see so much of the city from up here. He brought the table up because it gave him plenty of room to lay out plans.” She gestured at the contents of her backpack spilled across the table. “Works for me, too,” she said.

  I pulled the drapes, closing off her spectacular cityscape. Taylor made a face. “The lights look so pretty from up here.”

  “I know. Zack just thinks it might be smart to stay private for a few days.”

  Taylor’s dark eyes widened. “Because we’re not safe?”

  “Because we’re not sure yet what’s out there.” I sat on the corner of her bed and Taylor swivelled her chair so she could face me.

  “Taylor, the people who bombed our house are going to get caught. The police are watching out for us. Closing the curtains is just a precautionary measure.”

  “So we just do what we always do?” Taylor said.

  “That’s all we can do. You have exams and the All-College to get ready for. Your dad’s got the Cronus trial starting tomorrow and that’s going to be a long, hard slog for him. I have to deal with the house and” – I paused – “whatever else comes up.”

  Taylor was studying my face. “Mieka told you about Riel, didn’t she? I saw you two talking at the wedding and you were both so serious I thought she must finally be telling you.”

  “You knew about Riel?”

  “I met him a few times when I went over to Mieka’s after school. He’s really nice, Jo. That thing that happened with Declan’s dad was terrible, but it was an accident – you said that yourself. I know Riel’s fighting the project Declan’s dad’s working on down here, but Riel never talks about any of that with me.”

  “What does he talk about?”

  “My art. Riel says there are a lot of kids in North Central who could be helped by learning to make art. He thinks I’d be a good teacher.”

  “You would,” I said.

  Taylor cocked her head. “So you’d be all right with the idea of me volunteering at the Willy Hodgson Centre.”

  I was taken aback. “Taylor, where’s this coming from? You’ve never mentioned teaching art till this moment.”

  “But I’ve been thinking about it for a while.” She leaned towards me. “It’s something I want to do, Jo.”

  There was hope in her voice; there was also determination. I touched her hand. “Then do it,” I said.

  It had been a long day, and when we turned out the lights, Zack fell asleep immediately. I didn’t. It seemed suddenly as if the axis of our lives had shifted. The house. Mieka and Riel. And now Taylor wanted to work in North Central. It was exactly the kind of commitment I hoped she’d make some day, but not now. Working at Willy Hodgson would put Taylor right in the middle of a neighbourhood at war, and I knew that, as our daughter, Taylor would be seen as the enemy. My mind raced, but my thoughts were not productive. I slid out of bed, went out on the terrace, and pulled my chair into a corn
er where I could look down into the shimmering depths of the swimming pool in the courtyard. Lit from below, the pool was jewel-like – a brilliant gem in the velvety emerald grass.

  When Leland and Margot appeared, I didn’t move. They were wearing white terrycloth robes that they shed casually at the pool’s edge. They dove in and, side by side, began doing effortless lengths. When they were through, they pushed out of the water, shrugged into their robes, and walked hand in hand back to their condo. Healthy, intelligent, successful, and in love, they were, in E.A. Robinson’s memorable phrase, “everything to make us wish that we were in their place.”

  After Leland and Margot left, my eyes drifted to the razor wire that topped the security fence. Once long ago, a friend had related the words of the priest who had prepared her for confirmation. “God says take what you want,” the old priest said. “Take what you want and pay for it.” As I stepped back inside our condo, I wondered about the price we would pay for what we had taken.

  CHAPTER

  8

  At five o’clock the next morning, Leland met me at the elevator in a faded blue T-shirt, running shorts, and a brand of performance training shoes that I knew were light and well balanced because I wore them myself.

  Leland pressed the elevator button and we stepped inside. “Do you like to talk when you run?” he asked.

  “Usually I run with our dogs,” I said. “We only talk if there’s something worth talking about.”

  “Good precedent,” Leland said. “Let’s follow it.” The elevator doors opened and we were on our way.

  My usual route was along the bike path that followed the gentle curve of Wascana Creek. The sounds of my morning run were pastoral: the rustle of branches in the wind, the plash of water as a duck or a beaver broke the surface of the creek, and the lyric urgency of birdsong.

  Leland and I ran on cracked concrete past giant machines mired in the mud of construction sites and hoardings covered with the graffiti tags of gangs. No birds sang here. Feral cats yowled over territory and tethered dogs snarled behind welded steel mesh security fences that were indestructible and unscaleable. I slowed when we came to a pair of angry Rottweilers behind a security fence.