The Brutal Heart

“Looks great,” he said.

I reached into the planter to pat down the soil around a plant that looked vulnerable. “Zack, those rumours that have been circulating about Jason are true.”

“He’s a pimp?”

“I don’t know, but he is handling investments for women who work as escorts.”

Zack whistled. “No wonder he backed down on the custody thing. A man whose income comes from sex workers isn’t exactly a candidate for father of the year.”

“Vera says Jason’s into rough sex with young girls.”

Zack rubbed the back of his neck. “What a prince. You know, I try not to judge, but people who hurt kids make me crazy.”

“There’s a lot about this that makes me crazy,” I said.

“So where do we go from here?”

“To the ornamental sweet potatoes,” I said.

Zack grinned, loosened the first small sweet potato vine, and handed it to me. I placed it so its bright leaves would trail over the planter’s rim.

“Zack, when you represented Vera, what was the charge?”

“Attempted murder.”

“And the victim was…?”

“A john. It was an outcall in a hotel, and the date was going badly. The girl managed to alert Vera, but by the time she arrived, the girl was just about dead. Anyway, Vera beat this guy senseless with nunchuks, then she dialed 911 and left.”

“And you got her off.”

“It wasn’t easy, but I was able to show that Vera had sustained a trauma earlier in her life that put her actions that night into context.”

“What was the trauma?”

“When Vera’s husband found out she was leaving, he knocked her out, bound her hands and feet in rags, poured lighter fuel on the rags, and set them on fire. She managed to get her hands loose and she pounded out the flames on her feet, so she could run. Both her hands and her feet are pretty well fried.”

“Hence the gloves and the slow movement.” I said.

Zack nodded. “Hence the gloves and the slow movement.” He held out another sweet potato plant. “Do you want this or have you had enough?”

“I’ve had enough,” I said. “But I can’t stop now.”

Mieka’s Mother’s Day present to me was a gathering of our family for a swim and dinner at her house. She had been offered a Sunday-afternoon catering job that was too lucrative to turn down, so we were celebrating on Saturday. Angus had sent his regrets, saying he couldn’t get away from work, so I was surprised when I walked into Mieka’s yard and my younger son was there, setting tables.

I held out my arms to him. “I thought you couldn’t make it.”

“Zack called and set me straight about a few things.”

“Such as the fact that your mother might want to see you on Mother’s Day?”

Angus’s smile was sheepish. “That and a few other things – like becoming a lawyer doesn’t mean becoming an asshole. Mum, I really am sorry. I seem to be turning into a major-league idiot.”

“Is the summer job not working out?”

“No. It’s fine. Better than fine. The people at Matheson Calder treat me really well. I don’t have a lot to do, but the projects I have are really interesting. And I like everybody at the office. Some of the juniors have a softball league and they invited me to join. It’s a great job. Zack says they want me to be happy so I’ll article with their firm.”

“What does Zack think about that?”

“He says I’ll go to Matheson Calder over his dead body. He wants me to work with him.”

“Two big law firms vying for you,” I said. “You must be doing something right.”

“Not where it counts,” Angus said. “Leah broke up with me.”

My heart fell. “We love Leah. I was so sure you two would end up together.”

“That’s what I thought. But Leah says since I started law school, all I ever talk about is law and myself. She says she’s tired of both of us being focused on me, and she’s met somebody else.”

“She can’t have been involved with this other man for long. When she was here for Zack’s party, you two seemed fine.”

“She didn’t want to wreck Zack’s birthday. She told me about the other guy when we were driving back to Saskatoon.”

“Is the new man somebody she met in medical school?”

Angus’s headshake was vehement. “No. Leah said she won’t make the same mistake twice.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning she’s not getting involved with a guy who’s totally into his career. Leah’s new boyfriend is a hair stylist – her hair stylist. That’s how they met. Apparently, he’s Mr. Empathy. He ‘really listens’ to her.”

“Mr. Empathy may be carrying a lesson for you,” I said.

“Am I that bad?”

“You’re not bad at all, but it wouldn’t hurt if you actually listened once in a while.”

Angus dropped his head. “That’s what Zack says.”

“Then it must be true,” I said. “Come on, let’s get a beer and meet the new woman in Peter’s life. You can test out your new listening skills.”

“I’ve already met her,” Angus said. “Her name is Dacia, and she’s like a female Peter, except really pretty in kind of a round way.”

“What does that mean?”

Angus swooped his hands through the air in a voluptuous silhouette. “She’s curvy and very alternative. Nice hair – black and long and wavy – Birkenstocks, peasant shirt, rumpled shorts. She works in a cheese shop, and she showed Maddy and Lena how to make a whistle out of a blade of grass.”

“Sounds promising,” I said.

“Pete thinks so. At least one of your kids is lucky in love.”

I put my arm around him. “You’ve been lucky in love your whole life. Everybody in this family loves you, and Leah certainly did. My guess is that if you sat down with her and told her you realized you’d been -”

“An asshole?”

“I was going to say self-absorbed, but you’re closer to the situation than I am. Anyway, you and Leah invested a lot in each other. I bet that if you promise to shape up, she’ll give you another try.”

“What if she tells me to take a hike?”

“Tell her you understand. Pretend you’re Mr. Empathy.”

We both laughed. “Come on,” I said. “Why don’t you give your sister a hand with the burgers while I say hello to the woman who can make grass whistle.”

Dacia Lehrer was sitting on the grass with Madeleine and Lena. They were making up a story together that, judging by the giggle level, was absolutely hilarious.

When she saw Angus and me, Dacia sprang to her feet. “You’re Peter’s mum. He just went into the house to get us a cold drink. Storytelling is thirsty work.”

“I’ll bet,” I said. “You must be Dacia – the first Dacia I’ve ever known.”

“And probably the last,” she said cheerfully. “Not many parents give their kids the name the Romans used for southeast Europe.”

“Your parents must be history buffs.”

She laughed, showing the whitest teeth I’ve ever seen. “They’re everything buffs. My dad says they’re autodidacts; my mum says they’re just old hippies.”

“Nothing wrong with that,” I said. “So are you having fun?”