“Fifty-eight.”
Now it was a game. This time she swam underwater to the end of the pool. “What does the Speaker do?” she asked breathlessly.
“Keeps things moving along; keeps the members in line.”
“Okay,” she said. “I guess you know enough.” As suddenly as if a cloud had passed over it, the joy went out of her face. “Have the police caught the man who killed Ariel?” she asked.
“Not yet,” I said.
“But they are going to catch him.” The water beading her eyelashes made her look like a frightened naiad.
“Taylor, what’s making you so scared?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I just remembered how that woman at the vigil said men had to be stopped or they’d kill us all.”
“I don’t remember anyone saying that.”
Taylor swiped her nose with the back of her hand. “You weren’t there. You were talking into the microphone. It was that lady with the flowers on her shawl…”
“Livia Brook.”
She nodded. “Livia said it to the woman you don’t like – the one who told us that men couldn’t come to the vigil.”
She shivered; whether it was from the power of the memory or the chill of the water I couldn’t tell. I put my arm around her shoulder. “Time to get out,” I said. “But Taylor, I don’t want you to worry about this any more. Everyone was upset the other night. People said things they didn’t mean. No one’s going to hurt you.”
“Or you.” Her tone was urgent. “Or Madeleine or Mieka.”
“No one is going to hurt any of us,” I said. “There isn’t an enemy out there.”
“Good.” She tried a small smile. “Can I stay in the pool a little bit longer?”
“Nope, your lips are turning blue, and you know the rule.”
“When lips are blue, the swim is through,” she said morosely.
“You’ve got it,” I said. “Now, I’ll race you to the house.”
We grabbed our towels and started to sprint towards the deck. We were halfway across the lawn when Angus and Eli strutted out the back door. It was obvious at a glance that Taylor and I were getting a dress rehearsal of the grad outfits: blindingly white dress shirts, subdued but deadly ties, sports jackets and slacks that still dangled price tags, real shoes.
The boys struck GQ poses. “So do you think Brad Pitt should pack it in?” My son’s words were confident, even cocky, but his eyes were anxious.
“Brad’s lucky he lives in a two-income household,” I said. “You guys are dynamite.” It was no exaggeration. Angus’s resemblance to his father was so striking I could feel my throat close, and Eli looked both handsome and uncharacteristically assured. Alex’s nephew had not had an easy life, but as I looked at him that afternoon it was almost possible to believe that all the valedictory-speech cliches about new dreams and new lives might prove to be true.
The moment was too precious to lose. “Let me get the camera,” I said.
They groaned, but they pulled out their combs.
As soon as I had the boys posed in front of the prettiest of our lilac bushes, Taylor dropped her towel, and squeezed in between them. “This is so much fun,” she said.
By the time we’d snapped photos of every permutation and combination of the boys, Taylor, Willie, and the cats, we had used up a whole roll of film, and it had been fun. Too much fun to keep to ourselves. On our way back inside, I touched Eli’s arm.
“Let’s call your uncle,” I said. “Tell him what we’ve been up to. He should be a part of all this.”
Alex picked up on the first ring. “No civil servants listening in,” he said when he heard my voice. “You can be as brazen as you like.”
“Brazen will have to wait,” I said. “Right now, I’m standing with a shivering seven-year-old and two young men in extremely expensive new sports jackets. We’ve just taken some world-class pictures, and we thought you might want to hear about them.”
“I wish I was there,” he said.
“So do I. But having Taylor describe the scene will be almost as good.”
Taylor had a deft hand with narrative, and she described the photo session in meticulous detail; she also told Alex about Florence Nightingale and about how she, herself, got to sleep with Madeleine all three nights when we were at the lake. When Angus finally wrested the phone from her, she ran upstairs to get changed. The boys gave Alex separate but equal play-by-plays of their team’s last three ball games. When Eli gave the phone back to me, he was grinning. “My uncle says he’s proud of me.”
“He has every reason to be,” I said. “Now, you guys vamoose. It’s my turn.”
Alex seemed relaxed and happy. “The boys sound good,” he said.
“They are good.”
“Anything new with you?”
“I’m one of the parents going on the tour of the Legislature with Taylor’s class on Friday. There’s an orientation meeting tomorrow which I’m skipping.”
“Tell Taylor that if she needs back-up to keep you on the straight and narrow, she can call on me.”
“Taylor is unavailable,” I said. “She finally decided to get out of her bathing suit. She was turning blue and her teeth were chattering, but till the end she maintained she wasn’t the slightest bit cold.”
“Stubborn like you.”
“Inner-directed like me,” I said.
He laughed. “I miss you. Ottawa’s beautiful, but this isn’t exactly my scene. Too many chiefs and not enough Indians. It’s good to close my eyes and imagine you and the kids at home enjoying the spring.” Suddenly, his tone became grave. “From what Bob Hallam tells me, though, it’s not all blossoms and birdsong there. I take it there’s a reason you haven’t mentioned the Ariel Warren case.”
“It wasn’t because I didn’t want to,” I said. “But every time I weakened, I remembered all the work you’d put into that course you’re giving. And Alex, you know as well as I do that there really isn’t anything you can do from there but listen.”
“Actually, Jo, I can do better than that. I can give you some advice to pass along to Howard Dowhanuik. Robert Hallam is very anxious to talk to Charlie. Unfortunately, both Charlie and his father seem to have pulled a disappearing act. As close as you and Howard are, I’m guessing you can reach him with a message. Tell him to bring Charlie back to Regina. There are a lot of questions that need answers, and Bob Hallam will go easier on Charlie if he’s co-operative.”
“I’ll tell him,” I said. “Alex, I miss you.”
“Think how great it’s going to be when we’re together again.”
“Do you remember what Napoleon wrote to Josephine?”
“We didn’t do much French history at Standing Buffalo.”
“Then it’s time to complete your education. Napoleon said, ‘I’m coming home in three days. Don’t wash.’ ”
“So you’d like a three-day warning.”
“I’ll settle for three minutes,” I said. “Time enough to warm the hemp oil.”
When I hung up, I tried calling Good Shepherd Villa in Toronto. The woman I talked to told me Howard and Charlie left after Marnie had her supper, but she promised she’d have Howard call me. The mention of supper reminded me that I hadn’t done anything about ours. I rummaged through the cupboard till I found a box of fusilli and put on a pot of water to boil. The kids liked pasta salad and I had some ham left over from the weekend.
Just as I dumped in the fusilli, Eli walked into the kitchen. He’d changed out of his sports jacket and slacks into the summer uniform of shorts and sandals. As he came over to the stove, I saw that his mood had changed, too. His exuberance had been replaced by a kind of tense watchfulness.
“I was just talking to your uncle,” I said. “He’s getting anxious to come home.”
“It’ll be good having him back.” Eli’s tone was flat.
“Something on your mind?” I said.
