come?”
“Apparently not,” I said. I made no attempt to disguise my irritation.
“I’ll walk you back,” Nadine said, but she didn’t move towards the door. Instead she extended her forefinger to stroke the petals of the rose on Abby’s desk. Her hand lingered.
Her reluctance to leave the room where she had been happy with the woman she loved touched me. I took a step towards her. “Nadine, I know my husband and Delia haven’t been fair to you, but they’re good people. Could you give them another chance?”
“To reject me?” She shrugged. “Well, it wouldn’t be my first rejection.”
She handed me my jacket, and took her own off the hook. As we walked towards the main house, she was silent. Zack and Delia were waiting in the car: Zack in the passenger seat in front, Delia in back. When Zack spotted us, he rolled down the window, but Delia stared straight ahead.
As we approached, the only sound was the crunch of our boots on the gravel. “Joanne has suggested a policy of detente,” Nadine said. “Shall we try again? We all want what’s best for Jacob.”
Delia turned away.
“Perhaps the time isn’t right,” Zack said quickly.
Nadine’s hazel eyes took their measure of her two adversaries. “What are you afraid of?” she said, and she seemed to be speaking as much to herself as to them.
She put her arms around me. The gesture was more than social. “Thank you for staying behind,” she said softly.
The drive back to town was tense. When Zack touched my arm, I made no effort to control my anger. “What is the matter with you?” I said. “That woman just went through the most painful experience of her life. She invited us into her home because she thought she and Delia might be able to help one another through their grief. And don’t even think about using your wheelchair as an excuse. We could have managed.”
“I was the one who refused to go,” Delia said. “In cases like these, emotions can muddy the waters. Zack and I understand that.”
“Thank you for the lesson,” I said. “Delia, exactly how many cases ‘like this’ have you handled? Cases where a woman, whom her mother gave up twenty-seven years earlier, leaves her lover, gives her baby to someone who for all intents and purposes is a stranger, and then is raped and murdered?”
Zack’s voice was low but insistent. “Why don’t we just park this discussion for a while? Things are being said that are best -”
Delia leaned forward. “Maybe some things need to be said. I was under the impression that I came to Port Hope to learn about my daughter, but Nadine Perrault has an agenda.”
“Delia, you have an agenda too,” I said.
“To get custody of Jacob,” she said. “Which is exactly what his mother wanted. Sitting around grieving with Nadine Perrault wouldn’t have advanced our case. In fact, it might well have undercut it.”
I glared at my husband. “Is that the way you feel?”
He exhaled. “Jesus, Jo. Let it go.”
I pulled into a parking spot in the lot behind the Lantern Inn, jumped out of the car, and slammed the door. “My pleasure,” I said, then I ran from him.
Zack and I didn’t quarrel often. Once, after an angry day in which every word was a weapon, and every silence a bludgeon, Zack said something that became a touchstone for us. The morning had started well. On my run, I’d spotted a pair of American avocets, and Zack and I agreed to return to the spot after dinner to see if the birds were still there. Life and tempers intervened, and by dusk, we were raw. Like all lovers, we knew where to stick the knife. Zack hated silence and throughout dinner I’d responded to his overtures with monosyllables. Finally – exasperated – he pounded the table. “If an actuary were here,” he said, “she could produce a table that would give us an idea of how much time we have left together before we die. It’s not long enough, Jo. Let’s go see the fucking avocets.”
When Zack followed me into our room at the Lantern Inn, he shrugged off his jacket, then headed straight for the bed, lifted himself out of his chair, and lay down. For a man who slept five hours a night whether he needed it or not, it was an uncharacteristic move, and it scared me. I went to him. “Time to remember the avocets?” I said.
He turned his head to face me. “Boy, is it ever. This has been a lousy day, and having you pissed off at me has been the cherry on the cheesecake.” He started coughing.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked.
He shook his head.
I kicked off my shoes. “Well, at least I can keep you company,” I said.
“I don’t want to give you whatever it is I’m getting,” he said.
“Our relationship is hardly platonic,” I said. “If I’m going to get what you have, I’ve already got it.”
I lay down beside him, and took his hand. It was warm. “You have a fever.”
“It’s just the nearness of you.”
“Maybe so,” I said. “But I’m still going to buy some Aspirin and juice before the stores close.” I swung out of bed.
Zack groaned. “You can’t leave now. You just got here.”
“I’ll be right back,” I said. “Put on your pyjamas and get into bed where it’s warm. We’ll light a fire and have dinner in our room. See if we can head off that bug.”
Watson’s Guardian Drugs was crowded. It was the season for colds and flu, so everything I needed had been gathered into one convenient location. Humidifiers were on sale. Buying one for a single night was an extravagance, but Zack’s paraplegia meant he was vulnerable to attack from secondary infections, so I didn’t hesitate. As I made my way to the checkout counter, I spotted a rack of newspapers. The lead story of the
I took my place behind two ladies with silver sausage curls, sparkly Christmas corsages, lips red as holly berries, and gossip to share.
“There’s something so sad about the funeral of a young person, isn’t there, Eileen?” the one closer to me said.
“It was a memorial service, Doris,” her companion replied. “The body’s still out west. So this was just a gathering of friends.”
“Well, body or no body, it was very sad. I remember those girls walking down Walton Street together in their school uniforms. They were inseparable, Eileen. Whatever could have happened?”
“Doris, women like that are very emotional.”
“You mean… sapphites?”
“No, Doris, I mean the French. That Nadine Perrault is French, you know. Still, they make good neighbours.”
“The French?”
“No, Doris, sapphites. The two who moved in next to me have transformed that old rose garden.” She paused. “I wonder how they do it.”
“Hard pruning and organic food,” answered Doris.
Eileen leaned in to her friend and whispered, “I was talking about how sapphites
Doris’s chuckle was lusty. “I know you were.”
When I got back to our room, the gas fireplace was on, and Zack was in his robe warming himself in front of it. I filled the humidifier, handed my husband the Aspirin, a glass of water, a bottle of orange juice, and a box of tissues, and told him what I’d learned about sapphite love, hard pruning, and organic food.
“You broaden my horizons,” he said. He rubbed my arm. “I really am sorry about today.”
“So am I,” I said. “You were in a rotten position.”
“You don’t know the half of it. When I saw Nadine Perrault down by the river, all I could think about was how I would feel if I were in her place. Loving you is making me a lousy lawyer, Jo, and I can’t afford to blow this one.” He pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. “After you left, I called Dee to let her know you and I were in for the night. She understood, of course, but she sounded whipped.”
