Damn, that woman was insistent.
Whether it was the way she addressed Blaine on the phone, or how she behaved toward him when they taped the Breakfast in Canada holiday special, Paige Gilbert had an effect on him.
It must have been the way she sounded. There was something about her throaty purr, the Lauren Bacall style of beckoning which got to him…
I’ve got to stop thinking like this. All I want to do is to tape a TV show with her…
He wouldn’t mind bedding her if he had the chance, though, or better yet, if she gave him that chance. He’d be sure she’d like the whole act: wine, flowers, and a good long soak in the Jacuzzi at the back of the inn. It would be the perfect change for romance…
…until Suzanne came in and spoiled the whole moment.
“So, what’s the plan?” she asked as she sauntered into the kitchen.
“We don’t have one yet. She has to present the whole thing in the meeting, and wants me to be in Toronto when she meets with the network.”
“Whoa…hold on a minute.” Suzanne’s eyes lit up. “Did you just say…network?”
“That’s what she told me.”
“You’ve gotta be kidding.”
“That’s just it,” Blaine said. “She didn’t mention a thing about going anywhere else. She wanted everything to stay in Toronto. It’s all she talked about. This meeting, that meeting, and hobnobbing with the stars. You’d think with all this talk about network stuff, she’d want me to go to New York or California. Unless…”
Blaine took a very long pause as he and Suzanne stared at each other. Usually, brother and sister could read each other’s thoughts. And then Suzanne broke out into a slight smile.
“California? Really? Come on, baby brother. Out with it.”
“Look, Suzanne, I told you. I don’t know a thing other than what just happened on the phone. She wants me to go to Toronto to meet with her and whoever else she’s got coming up here.”
“Then can we go to California?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know what Paige…Ms. Gilbert, has in mind.”
That twinkle in Suzanne’s eyes told Blaine someone was up to no good. Was it his sister Suzanne, or Paige Gilbert? Or did both women start a secret conspiracy, letting Blaine embarrass himself around the world?
Conspiracy would be perfect. Paige could start the whole thing, and Suzanne could chime in with her best I Love Lucy “can I be in your show, Ricky?” expression.
“Oh, god. Louisa’s gonna kill me.”
“With what? A bread knife? She couldn’t hurt a fly. Out with it, Blaine.”
“Did you see our mailbox this morning?”
Suzanne shook her head.
“Take a look,” she told him. “It doesn’t look like anyone writing in for a reservation. And the address looks like Paige’s handwriting.”
“Since when were you on a first name basis with Ms. Gilbert?” Suzanne asked.
“Since…”
Since Paige Gilbert’s thoughts were a hell of a long way from Claypool, Ontario.
*****
Sunday morning came much too soon for Thérèse. Since she and Helen had so much fun the night before, she had second thoughts about driving out into Cajun country.
She didn’t fly all the way to New Orleans for nothing, though. Someone down in Vermilion Parish was expecting her, and they’d waited much too long to see her.
Helen dropped her off at the airport car rental counter, but not before they exchanged “thank you”s, addresses and warm embraces. Helen was working an extra shift for the overflow today, and decided she would have a nice day anyway, despite the frenzy of activity the swell of arrivals would bring. The new found friendship provided a comfort for the hectic day ahead.
I-10 had been mostly smooth for Thérèse’s drive, except for a small stretch near Baton Rouge where road resurfacing narrowed the traffic to one lane in each direction. She muttered under her breath and plodded on, wondering how long it would take to plunder through the mess. The orange construction cones were no help.
She thought she would die along the Atchafalaya Swamp portion of the interstate. All this water, and nowhere else to go. Still, the cypress trees and Spanish moss intrigued her, and she did her best to keep her eyes focused on the road and away from the swamp.
She turned the car radio on, and hummed along with an upbeat country tune that played. When she got to Lafayette, she would turn south along to US 167 to Abbeville. It wasn’t such a bad drive…just a long one, with nothing but open fields along most of it.
Thérèse spotted a lone Acadian style house in the middle of one of the fields. Was this the turn? It had to be, according to the directions she got in her e-mail before she left.
Turn right to the third dirt road.
Assured, she did just that, and parked. Her hands shook as she walked along the grass to the front door. A small calico cat came up to greet her, and she petted it gently. The cat reminded her of the calico cat they adopted for Noelle when she was a little girl. Sweet, friendly…just like Noelle herself.
Thérèse sighed and knocked on the door.
“Hello?” she called. “Anybody home?”
She shrugged. “I guess not,” she said, and sat on the porch swing. The cat jumped up beside her, and curled its tail around Thérèse. She petted it gently as she waited. She heard a rustling in the field, and the cat jumped down to investigate.
Thérèse decided to do a little investigation of her own. Looking into the large glass pane on the door, she saw the house much as she had remembered it when she was younger.
As the field rustled again, she remembered something else, but she gasped as the memory sought to overtake her.
This memory would not be at all pleasant.
*****
Noelle usually hated working on Sunday. That was her day to go to church and to keep up with her reading and paperwork. Though the paperwork was an essential responsibility, she thought she'd never see it end. If the old adage were true that no job was over until the paperwork were done, Noelle would be buried in a mountain of the stuff.
Since she went to Toronto Saturday, she had to switch shifts with another student. Noelle didn’t mind, actually. She’d wake up early and go to the hospital’s chapel for a morning service. Later in the afternoon, she could join Ryan for a cup of coffee when—if was a more likely description—things slowed down while they were on duty.
Her weekly sessions with Dr. Moreau had gone well, even though Yvette had asked her some rather pointed questions and had some unorthodox ideas. The unorthodox ideas, Noelle could handle. They were even interesting points of discussion for research topics, and Yvette often advised Noelle on the finer points of presentation. When she got to the pointed questions, however, Noelle would dab at a series of tears streaming down her face before their time together concluded for another week.
“If I don’t make you cry at least once during our session,” Yvette would say, “I wouldn’t be doing my job.”
Noelle didn’t cry today. She had a small tear or two running out of the corner of her eye when Thérèse boarded the plane yesterday, but Noelle felt, deep in her heart, her mother would come back relieved and happier. For that, Noelle was grateful.
She had just shaken hands and bade good afternoon to the hospital chaplain when she saw Ryan in the hall. He hadn’t worn his white coat or his name tag, so he couldn’t have been working, could he?
“Ryan?” she called out. He walked a few steps ahead of her, not even noticing her presence. “Ryan! Hold on a minute!”
He suddenly turned around and acknowledged her.
“I didn’t know you’d be working here today.”
“I didn’t either, until yesterday,” she said. “How’s your dad?”
“He’s holding his own. The docs upstairs moved him out of ICU last night. I thought he’d never get out of there. They say he’s resting comfortably, though I’m not so sure about the comfortable part.”
Ryan shrugged, and Noelle did her best to reassure him. “Is it OK if we go upstairs and see him?” she asked.
“Well, I don’t think it’ll be a problem.”
“I promise I won’t stay too long. I’m supposed to be on the floor in fifteen
minutes. Dr. Escalante’s been on my case lately, and she’ll kill me with one of her trademark stares if I’m late.”
They chuckled in unison, and Ryan pushed the “up” button for the elevator. Ever the courteous gentleman, he let Noelle walk ahead of him. The doors closed, and the elevator lurched slightly as it made its way up to Seth’s floor.
Thank God these elevators don’t play music, Noelle thought. I would have been asleep right then and there, and that’s the last thing I need.
As she and Ryan made the turn to Seth’s room, they both noticed the back of a figure with whom Ryan was very familiar, but Noelle wished she weren’t so familiar with this particular person. The figure turned around, and Noelle stopped dead in her tracks.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
Thursday, November 26, 2009
Episode 16: Girls Just Wanna Have Fun
What the heck, Thérèse thought as she and Helen drove off into the warm New Orleans night. Normally, Thérèse wouldn’t even think of accepting a ride from a virtual stranger. Helen, though, practiced a random act of kindness this Saturday evening before Mardi Gras.
Thérèse looked out the car window silently as followers of “Camp Endymion” staked their claims on their little spots of neutral ground lining Orleans and Carrollton Avenues. Helen just shrugged.
“You wouldn’t believe the kind of stuff that happens around here,” she told Thérèse. “You’d see people camped out three days before…just to see the parade. All they do is lie on the ground and sleep. Some people bring tents, others have sofas out there. Looks like a giant homeless shelter. Tacky, if you ask me.”
“Tacky? It sounds disgusting to me. Why can’t the police do something about it?”
“You expect the cops around here to do anything? All they’re concerned about is arresting flashers in the Quarter. Exposing yourself for a cheap string of plastic beads? Now that’s what I call disgusting. “
Thérèse just laughed. “I agree. Besides, the only person I’ll show any—uh—of my—naughty parts to is my husband.”
At that thought, her expression changed. She thought it was long overdue to call him to tell him she had safely landed.
She had reached into her purse to retrieve her cell phone. When it wasn’t there, Thérèse panicked.
“Are you sure you didn’t misplace it somewhere?” Helen asked. “We have passengers do that all the time.”
“It was in my purse. I know it was. I put it in there before I left this morning.”
“Let’s search your suitcases to make sure.”
As the women rifled through Thérèse’s baggage, the missing phone made itself known by hiding behind a cosmetic case of the same color. Thérèse admonished herself for her error.
“How could I be so foolish?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’d be surprised at how many people we get at the airport who do things like that. They think suitcases are safe places to put their personal stuff, when—surprise! They’re not as safe as you think. I’m just glad to hear you found it and it didn’t get stolen.”
“Please, Helen. Don’t scare me like that. I’m already in enough trouble as it is.”
Helen winked slyly at her. “Go ahead and call your husband. I’ll be up front if you need anything.”
As Helen turned away, Thérèse nervously pushed the buttons on the cell phone. This talk time would cost a bundle, but she felt her husband’s peace of mind was more valuable than any calling plan.
“Allo?”
“Stephane, cher? C’est moi.”
She could hear his sigh of relief all the way at the other end. “I’m OK. I’m in New Orleans.”
“What are you still doing there? I thought you’d be down in the bayou with your family by now.”
“I’m watching the Krewe of Endymion.”
“You’re watching what?”
“The Krewe of Endymion. It’s supposed to be a really big parade. It’s supposed to start pretty soon now. I wish you were here. It’s an experience.”
“Well, I’m not sure if it’s the kind of experience I’d really want,” Stephane replied.
“Please, cher, can’t you be happy for me just once? I’m having the time of my life here and now all you want to do is complain! What’s the matter?”
A long pause ensued as Stephane calmed down. “The matter is…I wish I were there with you. It sounds like you really are having the time of your life. Save me a piece of king cake, and I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I will. The parade’s about to start. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bonsoir.”
“Bonsoir.”
A twinge of regret knocked at her heart, but she quickly swept it away. She decided to relax and enjoy herself tonight.
King cake sounded good just about now, especially the gâteau de roi
Helen picked up at La Madeleine before work today. She had expected a few friends and neighbors to come over for the parade, and they filtered in slowly throughout the evening.
A line of police cars and flambeau carriers with propane tanks strapped to their backs signaled the start of Endymion, and the two women quickly ran to their places on the porch. Large double decker papier mâché floats with masked riders threw beads and cups to the crowd, and Thérèse laughed with delight as she caught a few. She turned to Helen with the silliest look on her face.
“Oh, my…how will I get all these home?”
“We just stick ‘em in our attics here,” Helen laughed back. “You want to know why all the houses here in N’Awlins are sinking? That’s ‘cause we have all these Mardi Gras beads.”
As Britney Spears, the teenage darling of Kentwood, rolled by, Helen found the opportunity to scream.
“HEY, BRITNEY! REMEMBER ME? THROW ME SOMETHING!”
Britney did, and the two women on the porch laughed again. “Thank you,” Helen shouted back.
More flambeaux and bands marched by, dazzling them and their friends. They were especially impressed by the Marching 100 of St. Augustine High School, as everyone in town was. By the time the parade was all over, Thérèse must have caught enough to pack another suitcase.
“It’s gonna be interesting getting this through Customs,” she said to Helen as she took her large haul of throws into the house.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you get through it. Just find me at the airport, OK?”
They laughed again, nibbled some more king cake and talked about good times for hours before they went to bed. After all, Thérèse had an important journey to make in the morning.
Thérèse looked out the car window silently as followers of “Camp Endymion” staked their claims on their little spots of neutral ground lining Orleans and Carrollton Avenues. Helen just shrugged.
“You wouldn’t believe the kind of stuff that happens around here,” she told Thérèse. “You’d see people camped out three days before…just to see the parade. All they do is lie on the ground and sleep. Some people bring tents, others have sofas out there. Looks like a giant homeless shelter. Tacky, if you ask me.”
“Tacky? It sounds disgusting to me. Why can’t the police do something about it?”
“You expect the cops around here to do anything? All they’re concerned about is arresting flashers in the Quarter. Exposing yourself for a cheap string of plastic beads? Now that’s what I call disgusting. “
Thérèse just laughed. “I agree. Besides, the only person I’ll show any—uh—of my—naughty parts to is my husband.”
At that thought, her expression changed. She thought it was long overdue to call him to tell him she had safely landed.
She had reached into her purse to retrieve her cell phone. When it wasn’t there, Thérèse panicked.
“Are you sure you didn’t misplace it somewhere?” Helen asked. “We have passengers do that all the time.”
“It was in my purse. I know it was. I put it in there before I left this morning.”
“Let’s search your suitcases to make sure.”
As the women rifled through Thérèse’s baggage, the missing phone made itself known by hiding behind a cosmetic case of the same color. Thérèse admonished herself for her error.
“How could I be so foolish?”
“Don’t be so hard on yourself. You’d be surprised at how many people we get at the airport who do things like that. They think suitcases are safe places to put their personal stuff, when—surprise! They’re not as safe as you think. I’m just glad to hear you found it and it didn’t get stolen.”
“Please, Helen. Don’t scare me like that. I’m already in enough trouble as it is.”
Helen winked slyly at her. “Go ahead and call your husband. I’ll be up front if you need anything.”
As Helen turned away, Thérèse nervously pushed the buttons on the cell phone. This talk time would cost a bundle, but she felt her husband’s peace of mind was more valuable than any calling plan.
“Allo?”
“Stephane, cher? C’est moi.”
She could hear his sigh of relief all the way at the other end. “I’m OK. I’m in New Orleans.”
“What are you still doing there? I thought you’d be down in the bayou with your family by now.”
“I’m watching the Krewe of Endymion.”
“You’re watching what?”
“The Krewe of Endymion. It’s supposed to be a really big parade. It’s supposed to start pretty soon now. I wish you were here. It’s an experience.”
“Well, I’m not sure if it’s the kind of experience I’d really want,” Stephane replied.
“Please, cher, can’t you be happy for me just once? I’m having the time of my life here and now all you want to do is complain! What’s the matter?”
A long pause ensued as Stephane calmed down. “The matter is…I wish I were there with you. It sounds like you really are having the time of your life. Save me a piece of king cake, and I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I will. The parade’s about to start. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Bonsoir.”
“Bonsoir.”
A twinge of regret knocked at her heart, but she quickly swept it away. She decided to relax and enjoy herself tonight.
King cake sounded good just about now, especially the gâteau de roi
Helen picked up at La Madeleine before work today. She had expected a few friends and neighbors to come over for the parade, and they filtered in slowly throughout the evening.
A line of police cars and flambeau carriers with propane tanks strapped to their backs signaled the start of Endymion, and the two women quickly ran to their places on the porch. Large double decker papier mâché floats with masked riders threw beads and cups to the crowd, and Thérèse laughed with delight as she caught a few. She turned to Helen with the silliest look on her face.
“Oh, my…how will I get all these home?”
“We just stick ‘em in our attics here,” Helen laughed back. “You want to know why all the houses here in N’Awlins are sinking? That’s ‘cause we have all these Mardi Gras beads.”
As Britney Spears, the teenage darling of Kentwood, rolled by, Helen found the opportunity to scream.
“HEY, BRITNEY! REMEMBER ME? THROW ME SOMETHING!”
Britney did, and the two women on the porch laughed again. “Thank you,” Helen shouted back.
More flambeaux and bands marched by, dazzling them and their friends. They were especially impressed by the Marching 100 of St. Augustine High School, as everyone in town was. By the time the parade was all over, Thérèse must have caught enough to pack another suitcase.
“It’s gonna be interesting getting this through Customs,” she said to Helen as she took her large haul of throws into the house.
“Don’t worry. I’ll help you get through it. Just find me at the airport, OK?”
They laughed again, nibbled some more king cake and talked about good times for hours before they went to bed. After all, Thérèse had an important journey to make in the morning.
Episode 15: Another Day in Paradise
Ryan was once again the glue that held everything together. Even though Seth managed to pull through, his vulnerable position illustrated to Ryan that life was short, and death was inevitable. Now more than ever Ryan knew that his decision to become a doctor was his destiny. Not only was his training important to save a person’s body, but he knew he had to heal the whole person.
One person Ryan felt wasn’t whole, that he couldn’t seem to reach, was Patrick. Where was he when the family needed him?
The doors revolved around Patrick, slamming him in the back and catching him in the mechanism before he wrested himself free. The smells of disinfectant and sickness assaulted him, and the only thing he wanted to do now was bolt. Overwhelmed by the stench, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose and mouth with it, as if that would act as a deterrent.
Only a saint like Ryan would want to surround himself with these people.
He had to reach out and hold the desk in front of him to steady himself. Patrick did everything he could to keep himself from throwing up, or worse, collapsing…just like Dad.
“Are you okay, sir? How can I help you?” a receptionist asked.
Sure. You can help me. Blow up this hole of misery. That would be a great help.
“I’m looking for Mr. MacPherson. Seth MacPherson.” Patrick replied, without removing the handkerchief that kept the millions of germs from infecting him.
“Are you a family member?”
He nodded silently.
Imagine a bomb going off in this place. The mangled steel, the pathetic moans, and the news trucks. It would be thoroughly enjoyable.
“Take the elevator in the back and go up to floor 8. The nurses up there can help you.”
Wonderful. I get an audience with His Eminence, and I don’t even get an escort.
Patrick walked away without thanking the woman, who barely looked up, and walked tentatively towards the elevator. He pulled another handkerchief from his pocket. He pushed the elevator call button with one hand and held the other handkerchief with the other. His initial reaction was to press the elevator call button several times, but he feared the infestation of all the billions of germs that were covering each and every square inch of the hospital.
The door of the elevator opened up, slowly. Several hospital personnel stepped off, all talking excitedly about their cases.
I am now entering the world of Ryan, dashing prince of the house of MacPherson, and who, disguised as a mild mannered medical student, promises to rid the world of disease and pestilence…I wonder if he uses a phone booth to change clothes.
Patrick was the only person on the elevator. He felt safe and secure and safe enough to take a deep breath.
As he stepped off the elevator, He came face to face with Ryan. Their eyes met and stayed glued on each other. The doors began to close and Patrick stuck out his hands to stop them. Ryan felt glued to the floor. He couldn’t move or say anything.
“What are you doing here?” Ryan asked.
“I heard about dad. What else would I be doing here? Taking the grand tour?” Patrick sneered at Ryan, who had not yet recovered from the shock of Ryan’s tired appearance.
“That was two days ago. Where the hell have you been?”
“Can we possibly do this some other time?” Patrick tried to walk around Ryan but was stopped.
“I don’t think so. Dad’s in ICU. You’ll have to wait. Then again, waiting is something you do very well, isn’t it? Why did you even bother with it all? You’ve waited until two days after my father suffered a heart attack, when he could very well by now. By the time you show up, his corpse would be decomposing.”
“He’s our father, and I couldn’t get away until now. I had to take care of business. “ Patrick paused. “Why am even defending myself to you?”
“Where’s your sense of loyalty, Pat? Dad has been working day and night at the winery and you are off doing… who knows what. He could’ve used your help but you can’t even give him the time of day. You have had it so easy. Patrick. The best schools, cars, and money to burn. Everything has been handed to you and you can’t think of anyone but yourself. Dad doted on you, and look where it got you! You could get away with murder!”
Hmmm. Getting away with murder. Now there’s an idea.
“Oh, my dear brother,” Patrick sneered. “I didn’t know you cared.”
*****
Suzanne sat in the library, engrossed in reading the now-infamous cookbook . The recipes for love looked interesting, and she sighed. Now that her sister had seemingly found romance, why couldn’t she?
Blaine burst into the room without knocking. Suzanne shot up and accidentally ripped the page she was reading.
“Don’t you know how to knock? You scared the hell out of me.”
“You’ll never guess what happened to me.”
“You heard from Louisa and she’s with Seth?”
“No. Guess again.”
“Canada beat Mexico in the Gold Cup.”
“Well, that’s true, but you have one more chance.”
Suzanne smiled, then scratched her head. “I give up. What’s this great news you’re teasing me about?”
“All right. I’ll tell you. Remember Paige Gilbert? She called me this morning. She said she’s putting together a new cooking show, and would I mind going back to Toronto to tape a pilot?”
“That’s great. First , Louisa gets the man of her dreams back into her life, even though he’s sick, and now you have a chance at culinary stardom. And what do I have? A feather duster and a bottle of window cleaner. Don’t get me wrong. I am happy for you. But if I can’t act like little sister and exhibit just a little bit of sibling rivalry, it takes the fun out of everything. Congratulations, hon’.”
“What are you reading? That cookbook? What’s so great about that one book? You’d think it was The Joy of Sex.” Blaine reached out to grab the book from her.
“The original cookbook is safely back in the library. While you were busy in the dressing room, I was making copies in the production office . I copied the entire cookbook before we went on the air. Now I can read this book at my leisure. Louisa doesn’t have to know a thing, right?”
“Whatever. If Louisa finds out you made a copy of it…or I did…she’d kill us both!”
Suzanne just smiled back and continued. “No. I don’t think so. Did you you know that Grandma used one of these recipes to land Grandpa? That is why this book is so wonderful. It isn’t just recipes . It’s a family history.”
“So are a lot of other cookbooks out there. Just take a look next time you go shopping. There are a million of ‘em out there.”
“There may be a million family histories out there, but only one is the Carroll family cookbook. I can recreate the recipe if you’d like. “
“No,” Blaine blushed. “That’s all right. That’s my job. Besides, Valentine’s Day has already passed for another year. “
“Well if you ever change your mind, I can help you. I bet that Louisa used one of these recipes to rope Seth into her clutches. That is why she doesn’t me to have it.”
Suzanne went back to reading.
“You know that Seth and Louisa have been in love since the first time they met. Things didn’t work out the first time around but now they have a second chance. Speaking of that, have you heard anything about Seth’s condition?”
Suzanne nodded. “Louisa says he’s in ICU, and that he’s resting comfortably.”
Blaine was looking through the copy of the cookbook.
“Cream of Hearts soup. Now this looks interesting. Looks a bit like vichyssoise…it would be great for the summer.” He read on to the detailed ingredients of the recipe. “So this is what Grandma fixed for Grandpa when they first got married. No wonder she was a June bride.”
*****
Thérèse whipped her head around, and the gate agent repeated her question.
“May I help you?”
“I…seem to be lost. My cousins were supposed to meet me here. I hope they didn’t get lost, either.”
“They may have just gotten stuck in traffic,” the gate agent told her. “I-10 is totally jammed right now. They’re probably just late. Where are they coming from?”
“They live in Vermilion Parish. Do you know it?” she asked.
The agent nodded. “My roommate from LSU came from there. Abbeville. I know it very well. Is there anyone there you can call?”
Thérèse paused for a moment. “Well…I could. Where’s the pay phone?”
The agent pointed to a phone in the corner. Thérèse dropped several coins into the slot and began to dial.
No answer.
“Look. I’m about to finish my shift here, and it’s getting late. You’re probably really stressed out. I know I am. I’ve had the day from hell today.”
Thérèse nodded. “Well, yes, it’s been a long day for me, too. I should get out there, but I’m really uncomfortable about driving a rented car alone at night. Can you recommend a hotel where I can stay?”
“Chez Helen,” the agent replied.
“Hmmm? I thought that was a restaurant.”
The agent laughed. “Oh…you’re thinking of that other one. I meant my place.”
“Well, I really don’t know…”
“Look. All the hotels in town are going to be completely full. There’s not a one to be had, even if you made a reservation for a fleabag. I have to go home anyway, and I have a spare bedroom. How ‘bout it? We can see Endymion. I live right on the parade route. Looks like we can both use a little de-stresser. By the way, my name really is Helen. Helen Cunningham.”
“Thérèse Armand.”
They held their hands out, shook each other’s and walked off into the parking garage, laughing and talking as they went.
One person Ryan felt wasn’t whole, that he couldn’t seem to reach, was Patrick. Where was he when the family needed him?
The doors revolved around Patrick, slamming him in the back and catching him in the mechanism before he wrested himself free. The smells of disinfectant and sickness assaulted him, and the only thing he wanted to do now was bolt. Overwhelmed by the stench, he pulled out a handkerchief from his pocket and covered his nose and mouth with it, as if that would act as a deterrent.
Only a saint like Ryan would want to surround himself with these people.
He had to reach out and hold the desk in front of him to steady himself. Patrick did everything he could to keep himself from throwing up, or worse, collapsing…just like Dad.
“Are you okay, sir? How can I help you?” a receptionist asked.
Sure. You can help me. Blow up this hole of misery. That would be a great help.
“I’m looking for Mr. MacPherson. Seth MacPherson.” Patrick replied, without removing the handkerchief that kept the millions of germs from infecting him.
“Are you a family member?”
He nodded silently.
Imagine a bomb going off in this place. The mangled steel, the pathetic moans, and the news trucks. It would be thoroughly enjoyable.
“Take the elevator in the back and go up to floor 8. The nurses up there can help you.”
Wonderful. I get an audience with His Eminence, and I don’t even get an escort.
Patrick walked away without thanking the woman, who barely looked up, and walked tentatively towards the elevator. He pulled another handkerchief from his pocket. He pushed the elevator call button with one hand and held the other handkerchief with the other. His initial reaction was to press the elevator call button several times, but he feared the infestation of all the billions of germs that were covering each and every square inch of the hospital.
The door of the elevator opened up, slowly. Several hospital personnel stepped off, all talking excitedly about their cases.
I am now entering the world of Ryan, dashing prince of the house of MacPherson, and who, disguised as a mild mannered medical student, promises to rid the world of disease and pestilence…I wonder if he uses a phone booth to change clothes.
Patrick was the only person on the elevator. He felt safe and secure and safe enough to take a deep breath.
As he stepped off the elevator, He came face to face with Ryan. Their eyes met and stayed glued on each other. The doors began to close and Patrick stuck out his hands to stop them. Ryan felt glued to the floor. He couldn’t move or say anything.
“What are you doing here?” Ryan asked.
“I heard about dad. What else would I be doing here? Taking the grand tour?” Patrick sneered at Ryan, who had not yet recovered from the shock of Ryan’s tired appearance.
“That was two days ago. Where the hell have you been?”
“Can we possibly do this some other time?” Patrick tried to walk around Ryan but was stopped.
“I don’t think so. Dad’s in ICU. You’ll have to wait. Then again, waiting is something you do very well, isn’t it? Why did you even bother with it all? You’ve waited until two days after my father suffered a heart attack, when he could very well by now. By the time you show up, his corpse would be decomposing.”
“He’s our father, and I couldn’t get away until now. I had to take care of business. “ Patrick paused. “Why am even defending myself to you?”
“Where’s your sense of loyalty, Pat? Dad has been working day and night at the winery and you are off doing… who knows what. He could’ve used your help but you can’t even give him the time of day. You have had it so easy. Patrick. The best schools, cars, and money to burn. Everything has been handed to you and you can’t think of anyone but yourself. Dad doted on you, and look where it got you! You could get away with murder!”
Hmmm. Getting away with murder. Now there’s an idea.
“Oh, my dear brother,” Patrick sneered. “I didn’t know you cared.”
*****
Suzanne sat in the library, engrossed in reading the now-infamous cookbook . The recipes for love looked interesting, and she sighed. Now that her sister had seemingly found romance, why couldn’t she?
Blaine burst into the room without knocking. Suzanne shot up and accidentally ripped the page she was reading.
“Don’t you know how to knock? You scared the hell out of me.”
“You’ll never guess what happened to me.”
“You heard from Louisa and she’s with Seth?”
“No. Guess again.”
“Canada beat Mexico in the Gold Cup.”
“Well, that’s true, but you have one more chance.”
Suzanne smiled, then scratched her head. “I give up. What’s this great news you’re teasing me about?”
“All right. I’ll tell you. Remember Paige Gilbert? She called me this morning. She said she’s putting together a new cooking show, and would I mind going back to Toronto to tape a pilot?”
“That’s great. First , Louisa gets the man of her dreams back into her life, even though he’s sick, and now you have a chance at culinary stardom. And what do I have? A feather duster and a bottle of window cleaner. Don’t get me wrong. I am happy for you. But if I can’t act like little sister and exhibit just a little bit of sibling rivalry, it takes the fun out of everything. Congratulations, hon’.”
“What are you reading? That cookbook? What’s so great about that one book? You’d think it was The Joy of Sex.” Blaine reached out to grab the book from her.
“The original cookbook is safely back in the library. While you were busy in the dressing room, I was making copies in the production office . I copied the entire cookbook before we went on the air. Now I can read this book at my leisure. Louisa doesn’t have to know a thing, right?”
“Whatever. If Louisa finds out you made a copy of it…or I did…she’d kill us both!”
Suzanne just smiled back and continued. “No. I don’t think so. Did you you know that Grandma used one of these recipes to land Grandpa? That is why this book is so wonderful. It isn’t just recipes . It’s a family history.”
“So are a lot of other cookbooks out there. Just take a look next time you go shopping. There are a million of ‘em out there.”
“There may be a million family histories out there, but only one is the Carroll family cookbook. I can recreate the recipe if you’d like. “
“No,” Blaine blushed. “That’s all right. That’s my job. Besides, Valentine’s Day has already passed for another year. “
“Well if you ever change your mind, I can help you. I bet that Louisa used one of these recipes to rope Seth into her clutches. That is why she doesn’t me to have it.”
Suzanne went back to reading.
“You know that Seth and Louisa have been in love since the first time they met. Things didn’t work out the first time around but now they have a second chance. Speaking of that, have you heard anything about Seth’s condition?”
Suzanne nodded. “Louisa says he’s in ICU, and that he’s resting comfortably.”
Blaine was looking through the copy of the cookbook.
“Cream of Hearts soup. Now this looks interesting. Looks a bit like vichyssoise…it would be great for the summer.” He read on to the detailed ingredients of the recipe. “So this is what Grandma fixed for Grandpa when they first got married. No wonder she was a June bride.”
*****
Thérèse whipped her head around, and the gate agent repeated her question.
“May I help you?”
“I…seem to be lost. My cousins were supposed to meet me here. I hope they didn’t get lost, either.”
“They may have just gotten stuck in traffic,” the gate agent told her. “I-10 is totally jammed right now. They’re probably just late. Where are they coming from?”
“They live in Vermilion Parish. Do you know it?” she asked.
The agent nodded. “My roommate from LSU came from there. Abbeville. I know it very well. Is there anyone there you can call?”
Thérèse paused for a moment. “Well…I could. Where’s the pay phone?”
The agent pointed to a phone in the corner. Thérèse dropped several coins into the slot and began to dial.
No answer.
“Look. I’m about to finish my shift here, and it’s getting late. You’re probably really stressed out. I know I am. I’ve had the day from hell today.”
Thérèse nodded. “Well, yes, it’s been a long day for me, too. I should get out there, but I’m really uncomfortable about driving a rented car alone at night. Can you recommend a hotel where I can stay?”
“Chez Helen,” the agent replied.
“Hmmm? I thought that was a restaurant.”
The agent laughed. “Oh…you’re thinking of that other one. I meant my place.”
“Well, I really don’t know…”
“Look. All the hotels in town are going to be completely full. There’s not a one to be had, even if you made a reservation for a fleabag. I have to go home anyway, and I have a spare bedroom. How ‘bout it? We can see Endymion. I live right on the parade route. Looks like we can both use a little de-stresser. By the way, my name really is Helen. Helen Cunningham.”
“Thérèse Armand.”
They held their hands out, shook each other’s and walked off into the parking garage, laughing and talking as they went.
Episode 14: Don't Let Them Steal Your Heart Away
As the ambulance carrying Seth, Ryan and the paramedics got to University Hospital, the entrance doors flung open and the workers carried Seth into the crowded hallway.
Louisa’s mind reeled as she surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings. The buzz of activity around her detached her somewhat.. She tried to talk to Ryan but the words…the sounds… weren’t there. She couldn’t even force them.
This has to be a dream. This isn’t happening to us. No, any minute Seth will wake me up from my nap and we’ll go into the kitchen and fix dinner. Something light. With a bottle of his best wine, of course.
As she tried to find a place to sit down, the noises of crying babies, impatient mothers and suffering humanity anesthetized her, much like the patients undergoing surgery there today.
Ryan, on the other hand, was in his territory. He assisted the paramedics with the stretcher, and wheeled Seth into an examining room, where Maria met them. As Ryan started to take his father’s vital signs, Maria quietly tapped him on the shoulder.
“You may leave now, Mr. MacPherson. We’re in control now.”
“I want to see this case through. I helped to bring him here.”
“I told you we can cover it. Why don’t you contact the rest of your family?”
Ryan either didn’t hear Maria, or didn’t want to. As he started to listen to his father’s heart, Maria gave an order to a nurse and then turned to Ryan.
“You shouldn’t be in here. You’re much too close to the situation. We really do have this under control. Now, if you’d just leave here, I’m sure there are cases for you to review at the front desk.”
Maria turned back to her patient as Ryan bowed his head and walked away. He understood what she had to do but he was still interested, both as a student and as a caring son.
As Louisa saw Ryan enter the waiting area, she was jolted back to reality. He answered her as she demanded to know what happened.
“Dr. Escalante and her team are working on him now. I really wanted to be in there, but she was right. All I’d do is get in the way. I can promise you she’s among the best doctors we have here. Come on. Let’s sit down.”
Ryan’s unusual lack of confidence worried Louisa. She was able to tell by his hesitation and quivering voice.
“How bad is it, Ryan? Please tell me. I can’t stand the wait. It’s agony to me,” Louisa choked back the tears.
“The first thing we have to do is to get him stabilized. We won’t know anything else until that happens. Dad’s a strong man, though. A real fighter. ” Ryan spoke in almost hushed tones. This did not soothe Louisa’s worried heart.
“Please, Ryan. Talk to me like a friend, not like a doctor. I can tell by the tone of your voice that you don’t think he’ll make it.”
As tears came streaming down Louisa’s face, she took a tissue to wipe them away. They just kept coming, and she buried her head in Ryan’s shoulder for support. As an attempt to regain her composure, Louisa tried a diversion tactic.
“Just last week we were enjoying a wonderful dinner, just the two of us. We talked about your graduation.”
Ryan managed a smile, even during this horrible moment.
“Your father and I both think you’ll make an excellent doctor. He’s so proud of you.”
Maria came out of the exam room, carrying her stethoscope. She walked straight to Ryan and held out her hand. Louisa stepped back, fearing what the doctor might tell them. She couldn’t read Maria’s face, which made it all the more terrifying. Maria looked at Louisa and then at Ryan.
Maria took in a deep breath and told Ryan and Louisa the news. Even though she’d done this so many times, for so many people, it still didn’t get any easier.
“He’s stable, but the next several hours will give us a better idea. There doesn’t appear to be any extensive damage to the heart muscle but he isn’t out of the woods yet. We are awaiting word on a space in ICU now.”
“Please? May I see him?” Louisa asked Maria.
“I’m afraid that right now his condition is critical. We’ll move him as soon as we can. The best thing for him right now is to get some rest. It wouldn’t be such a bad idea if you two got some. Ms. Carroll, it’s nice to meet you. Mr. MacPherson, I’ll see you in conference tomorrow?”
Ryan nodded silently as Maria walked away. Louisa exhaled a sigh of great relief.
“Thank God. I knew he’d make it. He should be good as new in no time.” Louisa was cautiously optimistic about the outcome. “By the way, has anyone told Patrick yet?”
“I don’t know. Someone may have gotten hold of him. I wouldn’t get my hopes up, though. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he didn’t show up here.”
Ryan did not try to conceal his disappointment in his brother.
*****
Thérèse, feeling exhausted after tossing and turning in her bed throughout the night, waited in the terminal inside Toronto’s Pearson International Airport. Her family was with her, though they hated to see her leave. As she hugged Stephane, he held her gently, but tightly.
Since they married, they had never been apart for more than a day or two. Even though she would only be away for a couple of weeks, Stephane would miss her desperately.
Noelle looked out the window at the plane, unloading passengers from one leg and getting ready for the next. She’d hoped the detachment would dull the pain she’d feel upon her mother’s departure. The stubbornness between mother and daughter was strong.
“Cher, could you give me and Noelle a moment alone?
Thérèse took Noelle’s hand and walked with her across the corridor to an empty table at a coffee shop. They each ordered small cups of cappucino, and Noelle stirred the froth in her cup slowly as Thérèse spoke.
“I know this has been such a terrible time for you. If you don’t want me to go, tell me. I’ll understand.”
“Maman, if you wanted to stay you wouldn’t have to ask. You just want to make it easier on yourself. ”
Noelle tried hard to conceal her ambivalence towards her mother’s quest.
“I know how important this is to you, to make amends, to fill in the blanks. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be so busy with classes and rounds you’d hardly notice.”
As if she’d noticed anyway.
Thérèse sipped her coffee as they heard the announcement.
“This is the first call for flight 228, with nonstop service to New Orleans, now boarding at gate 6…”
They threw their paper cups away and started to walk to the gate. Thérèse’s anxiety was making itself prevalent now.
As they got to the gate and she stood in line, she drew Stephane and Noelle close to her for a group hug. It had been a long time since they all did this, but it gave Thérèse a certain feeling of security. No matter what happened down in the bayou, she would always have her family in Claypool to come home to.
Once airborne, Thérèse listened to her body and gave into the exhaustion which communicated rather emphatically to her. Three hours later, a flight attendant awakened her, directing her to bring her seat to an upright position. As she opened her eyes, her confusion gave way, and she gave the flight attendant a sleepy, puzzled look.
“We’re there already? I feel like we just took off.”
“Yes ma’am, we’re getting ready to land.” The flight attendant walked away.
Thérèse took a couple of deep breaths. She was nervous and relieved that finally that moment had come. In a few minutes she would be reunited with her family. Hopefully the healing could begin.
Thérèse was one of the first passengers off the plane. As she stepped into the terminal, she heard the lively sounds of brass bands and tambourines, the sounds of Mardi Gras. The party atmosphere sparked her own enthusiasm as people embraced and laughed with loved ones arriving from different places. Many of them were obviously there to take part in the Fat Tuesday festivities. As a trumpeter threw her a string of Carnival beads, she caught them, smiled and thanked him.
I can’t believe I’m finally here. After so many false starts, I am meeting my family again, face to face. It’s time to stop hurting and start healing. I WILL do this. I have to.
Thérèse was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t realize that the terminal had emptied out. She looked around and saw only a handful of uniformed gate agents. The brass band had moved on, beads had fallen to the floor and she was alone. Why couldn’t anyone meet her flight? She’d written and e-mailed the family with her travel plans. I-10 couldn’t have been this crowded…or was it, being so close to Mardi Gras?
She couldn’t call Stephane or Noelle. Not now. This was something she’d have to do for herself. She slowly turned around and went back to the waiting area to sit down. Seeing her concern, a gate agent tapped her on the shoulder.
“May I help you?”
Louisa’s mind reeled as she surveyed the unfamiliar surroundings. The buzz of activity around her detached her somewhat.. She tried to talk to Ryan but the words…the sounds… weren’t there. She couldn’t even force them.
This has to be a dream. This isn’t happening to us. No, any minute Seth will wake me up from my nap and we’ll go into the kitchen and fix dinner. Something light. With a bottle of his best wine, of course.
As she tried to find a place to sit down, the noises of crying babies, impatient mothers and suffering humanity anesthetized her, much like the patients undergoing surgery there today.
Ryan, on the other hand, was in his territory. He assisted the paramedics with the stretcher, and wheeled Seth into an examining room, where Maria met them. As Ryan started to take his father’s vital signs, Maria quietly tapped him on the shoulder.
“You may leave now, Mr. MacPherson. We’re in control now.”
“I want to see this case through. I helped to bring him here.”
“I told you we can cover it. Why don’t you contact the rest of your family?”
Ryan either didn’t hear Maria, or didn’t want to. As he started to listen to his father’s heart, Maria gave an order to a nurse and then turned to Ryan.
“You shouldn’t be in here. You’re much too close to the situation. We really do have this under control. Now, if you’d just leave here, I’m sure there are cases for you to review at the front desk.”
Maria turned back to her patient as Ryan bowed his head and walked away. He understood what she had to do but he was still interested, both as a student and as a caring son.
As Louisa saw Ryan enter the waiting area, she was jolted back to reality. He answered her as she demanded to know what happened.
“Dr. Escalante and her team are working on him now. I really wanted to be in there, but she was right. All I’d do is get in the way. I can promise you she’s among the best doctors we have here. Come on. Let’s sit down.”
Ryan’s unusual lack of confidence worried Louisa. She was able to tell by his hesitation and quivering voice.
“How bad is it, Ryan? Please tell me. I can’t stand the wait. It’s agony to me,” Louisa choked back the tears.
“The first thing we have to do is to get him stabilized. We won’t know anything else until that happens. Dad’s a strong man, though. A real fighter. ” Ryan spoke in almost hushed tones. This did not soothe Louisa’s worried heart.
“Please, Ryan. Talk to me like a friend, not like a doctor. I can tell by the tone of your voice that you don’t think he’ll make it.”
As tears came streaming down Louisa’s face, she took a tissue to wipe them away. They just kept coming, and she buried her head in Ryan’s shoulder for support. As an attempt to regain her composure, Louisa tried a diversion tactic.
“Just last week we were enjoying a wonderful dinner, just the two of us. We talked about your graduation.”
Ryan managed a smile, even during this horrible moment.
“Your father and I both think you’ll make an excellent doctor. He’s so proud of you.”
Maria came out of the exam room, carrying her stethoscope. She walked straight to Ryan and held out her hand. Louisa stepped back, fearing what the doctor might tell them. She couldn’t read Maria’s face, which made it all the more terrifying. Maria looked at Louisa and then at Ryan.
Maria took in a deep breath and told Ryan and Louisa the news. Even though she’d done this so many times, for so many people, it still didn’t get any easier.
“He’s stable, but the next several hours will give us a better idea. There doesn’t appear to be any extensive damage to the heart muscle but he isn’t out of the woods yet. We are awaiting word on a space in ICU now.”
“Please? May I see him?” Louisa asked Maria.
“I’m afraid that right now his condition is critical. We’ll move him as soon as we can. The best thing for him right now is to get some rest. It wouldn’t be such a bad idea if you two got some. Ms. Carroll, it’s nice to meet you. Mr. MacPherson, I’ll see you in conference tomorrow?”
Ryan nodded silently as Maria walked away. Louisa exhaled a sigh of great relief.
“Thank God. I knew he’d make it. He should be good as new in no time.” Louisa was cautiously optimistic about the outcome. “By the way, has anyone told Patrick yet?”
“I don’t know. Someone may have gotten hold of him. I wouldn’t get my hopes up, though. It wouldn’t surprise me at all if he didn’t show up here.”
Ryan did not try to conceal his disappointment in his brother.
*****
Thérèse, feeling exhausted after tossing and turning in her bed throughout the night, waited in the terminal inside Toronto’s Pearson International Airport. Her family was with her, though they hated to see her leave. As she hugged Stephane, he held her gently, but tightly.
Since they married, they had never been apart for more than a day or two. Even though she would only be away for a couple of weeks, Stephane would miss her desperately.
Noelle looked out the window at the plane, unloading passengers from one leg and getting ready for the next. She’d hoped the detachment would dull the pain she’d feel upon her mother’s departure. The stubbornness between mother and daughter was strong.
“Cher, could you give me and Noelle a moment alone?
Thérèse took Noelle’s hand and walked with her across the corridor to an empty table at a coffee shop. They each ordered small cups of cappucino, and Noelle stirred the froth in her cup slowly as Thérèse spoke.
“I know this has been such a terrible time for you. If you don’t want me to go, tell me. I’ll understand.”
“Maman, if you wanted to stay you wouldn’t have to ask. You just want to make it easier on yourself. ”
Noelle tried hard to conceal her ambivalence towards her mother’s quest.
“I know how important this is to you, to make amends, to fill in the blanks. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be so busy with classes and rounds you’d hardly notice.”
As if she’d noticed anyway.
Thérèse sipped her coffee as they heard the announcement.
“This is the first call for flight 228, with nonstop service to New Orleans, now boarding at gate 6…”
They threw their paper cups away and started to walk to the gate. Thérèse’s anxiety was making itself prevalent now.
As they got to the gate and she stood in line, she drew Stephane and Noelle close to her for a group hug. It had been a long time since they all did this, but it gave Thérèse a certain feeling of security. No matter what happened down in the bayou, she would always have her family in Claypool to come home to.
Once airborne, Thérèse listened to her body and gave into the exhaustion which communicated rather emphatically to her. Three hours later, a flight attendant awakened her, directing her to bring her seat to an upright position. As she opened her eyes, her confusion gave way, and she gave the flight attendant a sleepy, puzzled look.
“We’re there already? I feel like we just took off.”
“Yes ma’am, we’re getting ready to land.” The flight attendant walked away.
Thérèse took a couple of deep breaths. She was nervous and relieved that finally that moment had come. In a few minutes she would be reunited with her family. Hopefully the healing could begin.
Thérèse was one of the first passengers off the plane. As she stepped into the terminal, she heard the lively sounds of brass bands and tambourines, the sounds of Mardi Gras. The party atmosphere sparked her own enthusiasm as people embraced and laughed with loved ones arriving from different places. Many of them were obviously there to take part in the Fat Tuesday festivities. As a trumpeter threw her a string of Carnival beads, she caught them, smiled and thanked him.
I can’t believe I’m finally here. After so many false starts, I am meeting my family again, face to face. It’s time to stop hurting and start healing. I WILL do this. I have to.
Thérèse was so deep in her thoughts that she didn’t realize that the terminal had emptied out. She looked around and saw only a handful of uniformed gate agents. The brass band had moved on, beads had fallen to the floor and she was alone. Why couldn’t anyone meet her flight? She’d written and e-mailed the family with her travel plans. I-10 couldn’t have been this crowded…or was it, being so close to Mardi Gras?
She couldn’t call Stephane or Noelle. Not now. This was something she’d have to do for herself. She slowly turned around and went back to the waiting area to sit down. Seeing her concern, a gate agent tapped her on the shoulder.
“May I help you?”
Sunday, November 22, 2009
Episode 13: End of the Innocence
Maria twiddled her thumbs and continued her pacing. She tried to convince herself that she wasn’t nervous, but that didn't help matters much when she was outside her realm. She handled herself with ease and command in the hospital but this was far away from that realm. She may have worn a stethoscope, but police badges, or at least the people behind those badges, intimidated her. She thought she'd have to spend the rest of the afternoon staring at Elise Jarrett's cubicle, and the day was fast turning to night.
When this is all over I am going to see to it that this…
Maria wondered, that perhaps Jarrett could read her mind. She gathered her jacket and walked away from the cubicle into the hall.
Now that Maria was finally allowed to make her call, she had to act fast. Preferring not to bother anyone at the hospital, she had one lifeline left.
Yes, Regis. It's my final answer.
She nervously picked up the receiver and dialed the number of the only person she could remember at the moment, her lawyer brother Ramon.
After holding on for over a minute, she'd almost hoped that he wasn't there.
“Hello?” Maria hesitated and had to take a deep breath before she responded.
"Ramon? It's me. Maria. Your sister, remember?"
“Yes, what is it?” Ramon tersely replied.
“Well, buenas noches to you too. Long time, no parlez-vous. How the hell are you?” Maria sarcastically replied. She soon sensed it would be one of those conversations. The sooner she finished this one, the better.
“What is it you want? The storm out there is picking up and I've got to pick up my daughter before she gets stranded at school. Make it snappy."
“You thought you'd never hear this from me, but I'm in trouble with the police. They're trying to charge me with obstruction of justice. I’ve been here since this morning and they finally let me make my phone call, the sweethearts. I really need you to come and get me out of here.” Maria spoke rapidly, then held her breath, hoping her brother wouldn't dismiss her so quickly.
“So, you finally went and killed one of your patients. Did you imagine that it was me so as to make it easier when you stuck the poor fellow? Or did you think you were Dr. Kevorkian?” Ramon cackled. “I don’t get it. What the hell are you doing calling your brother for help? I'd have thought you'd appoint some high powered angel of mercy in an Armani suit. Wait a minute. You like Versace, don't you? That's it. He'd wear Gianni Versace. Just because you have doctor before your name, you think you’re God. My, my, how the mighty have fallen.” Ramon was relishing having his sister in this vulnerable position. He was now calling the shots.
Maria was growing annoyed at her brother’s snide remarks.
“If you don’t want to come down and get me out, fine. Maybe I will find someone who wears Versace. I shouldn't burden you, after all…you’re my brother. ” Maria was about to slam down the phone on him.
“Oh, wait a minute, I am not about to miss springing my brilliant sister, the doctor, from prison. Mind if I bring my camera and snap some pictures of you in handcuffs? They would make excellent Christmas cards.”
“I don’t care if you want to bring along a whole camera crew from CBC. Just hurry and get me out of here.” Maria's desperation was now obvious .
“Well, you are going to have to cool your expensive shoes in that police station a little while longer. I have to get my daughter from school. I will be there as soon as possible.” Ramon replied.
Expensive shoes? What does he know? I'm wearing a pair of cheap sneakers which are wearing out very fast. Who does he think I am? Imelda Marcos? If I have to pace this floor any longer, I may as well be walking barefoot on the ice at Corel Centre.
“Elena comes first. You are not in any danger. You can wait a few more hours. You got yourself into this situation. I will be there shortly.” Ramon hung up the phone on Maria without saying anything further.
As she hung up the phone, Maria felt Rene Gauthier's large hand grabbing her shoulder.
“I am sorry ma’am, but you ‘re allowed only one phone call. We'll need this area to monitor other incoming cases. We'll have to move you into one of the other rooms. I promise, you'll be all right. We can’t have you walking around here. Security reasons.”
He led her into a bare interrogation room which had cinder block walls, and a lone, well used table and chair. The room had no windows, which made Maria feel even more confined.
“Wait just a minute. I don't remember you reading any charges against me. I thought all you were going to do was ask me a few questions, then send me on my way. You're not arresting me, are you?"
Please, Ramon. I know the storm's bearing down and Elena needs you. But I need you, too.
Maria took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down. She'd relied on these techniques while calming her patients during trauma.
Imagine yourself in a quiet, peaceful place.
Who'd have imagined that she'd use those same techniques to get herself out of a sticky situation?
When she finally did calm down, Gauthier interrupted it all. Maria jumped up from her chair and had to struggle to focus her vision. Ramon finally arrived, and he was no more joyful to see his sister again than she was to see him. It had only been a half hour since she was led into the room, but Maria felt a strange feeling of rejuvenation.
"I may be a lawyer, but I never thought I’d see the day I’d be defending my own sister.” Ramon laughed loudly.
"The doctor here has not been charged with any crime and therefore has not been processed. If, after further questioning, she is presented with a charge, she may request your presence at her defence, ” Gauthier once again spoke as if he were merely reciting from his policy and procedures manual.
Ramon’s smirk disappeared when Gauthier referred to Maria by her title. Ramon was quickly reminded of his sister’s degree. He, too, may have earned a degree of juris doctor, but when does anyone refer to him as such? Maria felt like the balance of power in their relationship was realigned in her favor. Once again she towered over her brother and she could sense that he was uncomfortable.
“Why am I still being held here?” Maria enquired.
“Well, doctor, it looks like today’s your lucky day. We reviewed all the files, and we really can’t see a reason why we should make you stay here. You’re free to go, but we are releasing you to your brother’s custody. We'll still need to talk to you some more. We can do that from your office. Plan to see us again tomorrow morning. ” Gauthier turned and walked away to leave Maria and Ramon alone to solve their little tiff.
“ I suppose I have to thank you for coming down here.” Maria said to Ramon, who had replaced a pad of paper in his briefcase.
“Why don’t you say it with some sincerity, doctor!.”
“You are correct, and I thank you for coming here. Was that better?”
“About as sincere as you’ll ever be.” Ramon coldly responded.
“I thought you were going to pick up Elena. Where is she?” Maria was genuinely concerned about her niece’s whereabouts given the current snowstorm.
Ramon softened a little, but not before getting in a last jab.
“She's with her friend Rachel. Rachel's mother picked up both the girls. They're doing OK. She sends her love. You should really see her. She has blossomed into a pretty little lady. Of course, your life is much too busy to be bothered with mundane details, like a family. You’re off saving lives and playing God.”
Those words stung Maria. Not once did Ramon ever say to her how proud he was about her accomplishments. That deeply hurt Maria more than anything else. She was tired of being told she wasn't good enough, that she'd never amount to anything.
Well, big brother, I'll show you.
******
One suitcase rested on the floor, opened and empty. Thérèse staggered towards the bed with an armful of clothes. They spilled onto the bed, and she was unconcerned about any order they may have had. . Feeling her heartbeat pick up, she once again picked up the receiver and hit ‘redial’.
Another busy signal. Though the gathering storm gained strength, Thérèse knew the radio and TV would update her on airport closings. She threw the clothes without regard of where they would land. The mountain of laundry could have turned into Everest, as far as she was concerned. Like a child obsessed with video games, she kept pressing the redial button and drummed her fingers on the nightstand next to her. Still busy.
Stephane entered the room and picked up a blouse that had not made it into the suitcase. Thérèse smiled at her husband and pressed the redial button for what seemed like the hundredth time. Finally she was able to get through.
“Hello, and thank you for calling. In order for us to serve you more efficiently, please wait for the next available agent.” The announcement repeated in French, and she was bombarded with vacation commercials, hold announcements and insipid canned music.
Stephane folded the blouse and carefully placed it in the tattered suitcase. He took out the rest of the garments and folded them with care before returning them back into the suitcase. Thérèse stroked his forehead and bowed down to give him a kiss.
She pulled away after finally hearing the human voice that broke through her perma-hold.
“Oh thank God, yes, I need a round-trip ticket to New Orleans. Is there anything available from Toronto?” Thérèse almost lost her breath.
Stephane sat on the bed with his legs crossed. He was staring down to the floor, unsure of what to say to his wife. He didn’t want her to leave, but Thérèse had already made up her mind. She had to do it..
“Oh dear! No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you. I was unaware that airport was closed, too. How about Montreal? Can I get a flight to New Orleans from Montreal?”
A brief silence interrupted their conversation as she heard the agent tap into the reservations computer. “All of our flights out of Montreal are booked. If you can call back and check with us this evening, we may be able to get you onto a nonstop from Toronto tomorrow morning."
With a faint glimmer of hope, but more discouragement, she agreed. “ I understand, thanks.” Thérèse replaced the receiver.
She walked across the room, biting on her nails and muttered to herself gently.
“Perhaps this is a way of telling you that you shouldn’t go” Stephane offered sheepishly.
“I’ll get a flight into New Orleans. I should be able to get onto that nonstop. The airport in Ottawa may be closed, but I heard on the radio Toronto should be opening up again. S’il vous plaît , Stephane, I don’t want to talk about it any more.” The tension in her neck was getting worse.
“ You’re being so quiet, cher. I hope you understand why I have to do this. Why don’t you come with me? We can have a few days to ourselves. Maybe we can do some sightseeing around New Orleans. Then we can go on to Lafayette and meet the family. What do you say?”
“I can’t just pick up and leave at a moment’s notice.” Stephane responded with annoyance.
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. We already discussed this and you’ve already decided to go alone. Good luck!”
He walked away to clear his mind a little, then came back and sat down on the edge of the bed. From the suitcase beside him, he picked up a blouse. He held it close to his cheek, inhaling the scent of fresh laundry detergent and lavender fabric softener. He may have been angry at first, but he really would miss that when she goes away.
Thérèse sat down beside him but didn’t say a word. What could she say? They stared at each other for several minutes before Stephane spoke.
“I’m sorry for storming out on you like that. I’m just trying to understand why you have to leave right away, this very minute. I’m having trouble sorting it out. You’re not doing anything wrong. If anything, I’m the one who did something wrong one for hurting your feelings. I love you so much. I just don’t want anything terrible to happen to you. We’ve had too many terrible things happen to us.”
They embraced, and Stephane whispered in Thérèse’s ear. “Please be careful. Please.”
She picked up the phone again. This time, the agent answered almost immediately. There was a space available on the nonstop from Toronto, but the plane had an early morning departure. Since she was so determined to visit her family, she wouldn’t mind waking up in the middle of the night.
“How about calling Noelle and letting her know about this?”
“Well, you’re the one who usually talks to her, but I can do it this time. Maybe she can join us for breakfast before we head out,” Thérèse replied.
She was actually nervous about calling Noelle. She didn’t want to upset her, but she didn’t want to leave without first talking to her. Thérèse’s fingers missed several numbers because they were shaking. The phone rang twice before Noelle picked up.
“Hello?”
“Bonsoir, Noelle. C’est maman. Comment ça va?” Thérèse calmed down when she heard Noelle’s voice. “Remember when I told you I was going to Louisiana? I finally got a flight. I’m leaving tomorrow morning and I was hoping that we can all have some breakfast before I fly out. How does that sound?”
Noelle could not believe her mother’s timing. The last thing she wanted was to have a family meal. Since the attack she had wanted to alone, of all things. Since she just now started to put her life back together, all she needed was some space.
“I don’t think I’d feel up to it. I’ve a twelve hour shift tonight, and I have classes almost immediately afterward. I don’t think I’ll even have time to brush my teeth. Have a nice trip, though. May I speak to papa?”
Noelle did not do very well of concealing her annoyance with her mother but she was not going to apologize. Thérèse could sense the tension in Noelle’s voice. Whenever Noelle was upset with her mother, she would ask to speak to her father. Thérèse felt like the worst mother in the world. But she couldn’t bring herself to cancel her plans. There was something that was pulling her to take that trip to Louisiana. She couldn’t put her finger on it but the feeling was strong.
They finished their conversation, and the two parents smiled at each other. Thérèse would have a life changing day ahead of her.
******
Seth enjoyed working in the vineyards, even though the snow was falling heavily. All the ice on the ground made the conditions perfect for picking grapes for the MacPherson winery’s famed ice wine. After all, the grapes had to be frozen for making this very special dessert wine. There was nothing better for him than to put on a well worn pair of overalls and one of his favourite comfortable flannel shirts. They were certainly a change from the suits and ties he was accustomed to wearing during high powered corporate meetings.
Louisa enjoyed having this time with him, as she hadn’t had a real chance to spend any time with him since the Vineyards Inn opened last summer. This would give them another chance to unwind and strengthen the growing bond between them.
He was just about to place some grapes in a basket when a sharp pain shot up his left arm. The pain was so strong that Seth felt breathless. Seth managed to get back into the office, where he quickly called Louisa over.
“I’m not sure about this, but I’m really hurting. Can you call a doctor?”
Seth felt the pain had subsided but there was still a residual effect. His left arm felt heavy and he felt at a loss for breath.
Louisa wasted no time. “I don’t think there’ll be enough time for that. I’m calling 911 right now.”
Seth winced and grabbed his chest. His pale look scared her. From what she remembered, it seemed like he’d never even suffered a cold. She’d stayed by his side to comfort him, but the false bravado was just that: a mask, and not a very pretty one. Life-threatening situations were new to her, and Louisa’s worry became obvious. A tear streamed down her cheek as Seth tried to reassure her.
“I’ll be OK. You can’t get rid of me this easily.” Seth tried to smile but it was apparent that the pain was coming on stronger.
Even in his pain he was trying to comfort someone else. Louisa didn’t want to cry but she was scared that Seth might die. It seemed like a miracle but the ambulance was making its way up the driveway.
Dinner would have to wait.
“Dad? Can anyone hear me out there? It’s me…Ryan!”
Louisa shouted at him to meet her where his father lay. Ryan, still on his ER rotation, had to take this day, of all things, to take his required paramedic ride-along. His cell phone and pocket computer were at the ready.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong? When did this start happening?”
“He said something about a pain in his left arm, and I saw him grab his chest just now. I’d say about five minutes ago.”
Ryan ran into the study in search of his father.
“Dad?”
He walked around the desk and gasped at the sight of his father sprawled out on the floor, white as the snow that was quickly covering the area.
“Oh God. Dad? Can you hear me? Please answer me!” Ryan desperately tried to revive his father. He quickly put a stethoscope to his ears and listened for vital signs. He motioned to the paramedics to start CPR . One counted, while the other began resuscitation.
Writing down the numbers he took, Ryan quickly placed a call to University Hospital.
“We have a male, 53 years old, complaining of chest pain. BP is...”
Ryan relayed the instructions to the two paramedics. Portable EKG equipment and IV bags flew everywhere as the three started administering to Seth. Seth tried to help but he started to slip out of consciousness. Louisa pulled him away to confide in him.
“Look, you’re doing the best you can. Your dad’s a strong man and he’ll come out of this. And you’re helping him. Pretty soon he’ll be back to normal.”
“Please, Louisa. I can’t talk now. We have to transport him immediately.” He stood at his father’s head while the paramedics were at his feet. “On my count. 1, 2, 3…”
The paramedics placed Seth on a stretcher and began wheeling him out. Seth still had not regained conscious and his color was still pale. The oxygen mask gave Seth an out of this world look.
“What happened to him? He’ll be OK, won’t he?” Louisa tried to get information but the paramedics were moving to fast to get Seth into the ambulance.
“Ryan, what is it?”
“We won’t know for sure until we get him to the ER. He is in good hands now. Let’s go.” Louisa and Ryan scrambled into the ambulance after Seth and the paramedics.
“You see, in no time he’ll be back to giving orders around here. Both of you will be back to watching Hockey Night in Canada before long,” Louisa reassured him.
“I’ve seen this more times than I care to count, and I’ve worked on more cases than I even want to mention,” Ryan told her. “It’s all touch and go. It’s one thing when it’s a stranger, lying there on a stretcher, depending on you to save his or her life. But when it’s my father lying there on that same stretcher…” He faded away.
“What is it, Ryan? Please tell me.”
“It scares the hell out of me.”
When this is all over I am going to see to it that this…
Maria wondered, that perhaps Jarrett could read her mind. She gathered her jacket and walked away from the cubicle into the hall.
Now that Maria was finally allowed to make her call, she had to act fast. Preferring not to bother anyone at the hospital, she had one lifeline left.
Yes, Regis. It's my final answer.
She nervously picked up the receiver and dialed the number of the only person she could remember at the moment, her lawyer brother Ramon.
After holding on for over a minute, she'd almost hoped that he wasn't there.
“Hello?” Maria hesitated and had to take a deep breath before she responded.
"Ramon? It's me. Maria. Your sister, remember?"
“Yes, what is it?” Ramon tersely replied.
“Well, buenas noches to you too. Long time, no parlez-vous. How the hell are you?” Maria sarcastically replied. She soon sensed it would be one of those conversations. The sooner she finished this one, the better.
“What is it you want? The storm out there is picking up and I've got to pick up my daughter before she gets stranded at school. Make it snappy."
“You thought you'd never hear this from me, but I'm in trouble with the police. They're trying to charge me with obstruction of justice. I’ve been here since this morning and they finally let me make my phone call, the sweethearts. I really need you to come and get me out of here.” Maria spoke rapidly, then held her breath, hoping her brother wouldn't dismiss her so quickly.
“So, you finally went and killed one of your patients. Did you imagine that it was me so as to make it easier when you stuck the poor fellow? Or did you think you were Dr. Kevorkian?” Ramon cackled. “I don’t get it. What the hell are you doing calling your brother for help? I'd have thought you'd appoint some high powered angel of mercy in an Armani suit. Wait a minute. You like Versace, don't you? That's it. He'd wear Gianni Versace. Just because you have doctor before your name, you think you’re God. My, my, how the mighty have fallen.” Ramon was relishing having his sister in this vulnerable position. He was now calling the shots.
Maria was growing annoyed at her brother’s snide remarks.
“If you don’t want to come down and get me out, fine. Maybe I will find someone who wears Versace. I shouldn't burden you, after all…you’re my brother. ” Maria was about to slam down the phone on him.
“Oh, wait a minute, I am not about to miss springing my brilliant sister, the doctor, from prison. Mind if I bring my camera and snap some pictures of you in handcuffs? They would make excellent Christmas cards.”
“I don’t care if you want to bring along a whole camera crew from CBC. Just hurry and get me out of here.” Maria's desperation was now obvious .
“Well, you are going to have to cool your expensive shoes in that police station a little while longer. I have to get my daughter from school. I will be there as soon as possible.” Ramon replied.
Expensive shoes? What does he know? I'm wearing a pair of cheap sneakers which are wearing out very fast. Who does he think I am? Imelda Marcos? If I have to pace this floor any longer, I may as well be walking barefoot on the ice at Corel Centre.
“Elena comes first. You are not in any danger. You can wait a few more hours. You got yourself into this situation. I will be there shortly.” Ramon hung up the phone on Maria without saying anything further.
As she hung up the phone, Maria felt Rene Gauthier's large hand grabbing her shoulder.
“I am sorry ma’am, but you ‘re allowed only one phone call. We'll need this area to monitor other incoming cases. We'll have to move you into one of the other rooms. I promise, you'll be all right. We can’t have you walking around here. Security reasons.”
He led her into a bare interrogation room which had cinder block walls, and a lone, well used table and chair. The room had no windows, which made Maria feel even more confined.
“Wait just a minute. I don't remember you reading any charges against me. I thought all you were going to do was ask me a few questions, then send me on my way. You're not arresting me, are you?"
Please, Ramon. I know the storm's bearing down and Elena needs you. But I need you, too.
Maria took a couple of deep breaths to calm herself down. She'd relied on these techniques while calming her patients during trauma.
Imagine yourself in a quiet, peaceful place.
Who'd have imagined that she'd use those same techniques to get herself out of a sticky situation?
When she finally did calm down, Gauthier interrupted it all. Maria jumped up from her chair and had to struggle to focus her vision. Ramon finally arrived, and he was no more joyful to see his sister again than she was to see him. It had only been a half hour since she was led into the room, but Maria felt a strange feeling of rejuvenation.
"I may be a lawyer, but I never thought I’d see the day I’d be defending my own sister.” Ramon laughed loudly.
"The doctor here has not been charged with any crime and therefore has not been processed. If, after further questioning, she is presented with a charge, she may request your presence at her defence, ” Gauthier once again spoke as if he were merely reciting from his policy and procedures manual.
Ramon’s smirk disappeared when Gauthier referred to Maria by her title. Ramon was quickly reminded of his sister’s degree. He, too, may have earned a degree of juris doctor, but when does anyone refer to him as such? Maria felt like the balance of power in their relationship was realigned in her favor. Once again she towered over her brother and she could sense that he was uncomfortable.
“Why am I still being held here?” Maria enquired.
“Well, doctor, it looks like today’s your lucky day. We reviewed all the files, and we really can’t see a reason why we should make you stay here. You’re free to go, but we are releasing you to your brother’s custody. We'll still need to talk to you some more. We can do that from your office. Plan to see us again tomorrow morning. ” Gauthier turned and walked away to leave Maria and Ramon alone to solve their little tiff.
“ I suppose I have to thank you for coming down here.” Maria said to Ramon, who had replaced a pad of paper in his briefcase.
“Why don’t you say it with some sincerity, doctor!.”
“You are correct, and I thank you for coming here. Was that better?”
“About as sincere as you’ll ever be.” Ramon coldly responded.
“I thought you were going to pick up Elena. Where is she?” Maria was genuinely concerned about her niece’s whereabouts given the current snowstorm.
Ramon softened a little, but not before getting in a last jab.
“She's with her friend Rachel. Rachel's mother picked up both the girls. They're doing OK. She sends her love. You should really see her. She has blossomed into a pretty little lady. Of course, your life is much too busy to be bothered with mundane details, like a family. You’re off saving lives and playing God.”
Those words stung Maria. Not once did Ramon ever say to her how proud he was about her accomplishments. That deeply hurt Maria more than anything else. She was tired of being told she wasn't good enough, that she'd never amount to anything.
Well, big brother, I'll show you.
******
One suitcase rested on the floor, opened and empty. Thérèse staggered towards the bed with an armful of clothes. They spilled onto the bed, and she was unconcerned about any order they may have had. . Feeling her heartbeat pick up, she once again picked up the receiver and hit ‘redial’.
Another busy signal. Though the gathering storm gained strength, Thérèse knew the radio and TV would update her on airport closings. She threw the clothes without regard of where they would land. The mountain of laundry could have turned into Everest, as far as she was concerned. Like a child obsessed with video games, she kept pressing the redial button and drummed her fingers on the nightstand next to her. Still busy.
Stephane entered the room and picked up a blouse that had not made it into the suitcase. Thérèse smiled at her husband and pressed the redial button for what seemed like the hundredth time. Finally she was able to get through.
“Hello, and thank you for calling. In order for us to serve you more efficiently, please wait for the next available agent.” The announcement repeated in French, and she was bombarded with vacation commercials, hold announcements and insipid canned music.
Stephane folded the blouse and carefully placed it in the tattered suitcase. He took out the rest of the garments and folded them with care before returning them back into the suitcase. Thérèse stroked his forehead and bowed down to give him a kiss.
She pulled away after finally hearing the human voice that broke through her perma-hold.
“Oh thank God, yes, I need a round-trip ticket to New Orleans. Is there anything available from Toronto?” Thérèse almost lost her breath.
Stephane sat on the bed with his legs crossed. He was staring down to the floor, unsure of what to say to his wife. He didn’t want her to leave, but Thérèse had already made up her mind. She had to do it..
“Oh dear! No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean you. I was unaware that airport was closed, too. How about Montreal? Can I get a flight to New Orleans from Montreal?”
A brief silence interrupted their conversation as she heard the agent tap into the reservations computer. “All of our flights out of Montreal are booked. If you can call back and check with us this evening, we may be able to get you onto a nonstop from Toronto tomorrow morning."
With a faint glimmer of hope, but more discouragement, she agreed. “ I understand, thanks.” Thérèse replaced the receiver.
She walked across the room, biting on her nails and muttered to herself gently.
“Perhaps this is a way of telling you that you shouldn’t go” Stephane offered sheepishly.
“I’ll get a flight into New Orleans. I should be able to get onto that nonstop. The airport in Ottawa may be closed, but I heard on the radio Toronto should be opening up again. S’il vous plaît , Stephane, I don’t want to talk about it any more.” The tension in her neck was getting worse.
“ You’re being so quiet, cher. I hope you understand why I have to do this. Why don’t you come with me? We can have a few days to ourselves. Maybe we can do some sightseeing around New Orleans. Then we can go on to Lafayette and meet the family. What do you say?”
“I can’t just pick up and leave at a moment’s notice.” Stephane responded with annoyance.
“Is that what you think I’m doing?”
“Don’t put words in my mouth. We already discussed this and you’ve already decided to go alone. Good luck!”
He walked away to clear his mind a little, then came back and sat down on the edge of the bed. From the suitcase beside him, he picked up a blouse. He held it close to his cheek, inhaling the scent of fresh laundry detergent and lavender fabric softener. He may have been angry at first, but he really would miss that when she goes away.
Thérèse sat down beside him but didn’t say a word. What could she say? They stared at each other for several minutes before Stephane spoke.
“I’m sorry for storming out on you like that. I’m just trying to understand why you have to leave right away, this very minute. I’m having trouble sorting it out. You’re not doing anything wrong. If anything, I’m the one who did something wrong one for hurting your feelings. I love you so much. I just don’t want anything terrible to happen to you. We’ve had too many terrible things happen to us.”
They embraced, and Stephane whispered in Thérèse’s ear. “Please be careful. Please.”
She picked up the phone again. This time, the agent answered almost immediately. There was a space available on the nonstop from Toronto, but the plane had an early morning departure. Since she was so determined to visit her family, she wouldn’t mind waking up in the middle of the night.
“How about calling Noelle and letting her know about this?”
“Well, you’re the one who usually talks to her, but I can do it this time. Maybe she can join us for breakfast before we head out,” Thérèse replied.
She was actually nervous about calling Noelle. She didn’t want to upset her, but she didn’t want to leave without first talking to her. Thérèse’s fingers missed several numbers because they were shaking. The phone rang twice before Noelle picked up.
“Hello?”
“Bonsoir, Noelle. C’est maman. Comment ça va?” Thérèse calmed down when she heard Noelle’s voice. “Remember when I told you I was going to Louisiana? I finally got a flight. I’m leaving tomorrow morning and I was hoping that we can all have some breakfast before I fly out. How does that sound?”
Noelle could not believe her mother’s timing. The last thing she wanted was to have a family meal. Since the attack she had wanted to alone, of all things. Since she just now started to put her life back together, all she needed was some space.
“I don’t think I’d feel up to it. I’ve a twelve hour shift tonight, and I have classes almost immediately afterward. I don’t think I’ll even have time to brush my teeth. Have a nice trip, though. May I speak to papa?”
Noelle did not do very well of concealing her annoyance with her mother but she was not going to apologize. Thérèse could sense the tension in Noelle’s voice. Whenever Noelle was upset with her mother, she would ask to speak to her father. Thérèse felt like the worst mother in the world. But she couldn’t bring herself to cancel her plans. There was something that was pulling her to take that trip to Louisiana. She couldn’t put her finger on it but the feeling was strong.
They finished their conversation, and the two parents smiled at each other. Thérèse would have a life changing day ahead of her.
******
Seth enjoyed working in the vineyards, even though the snow was falling heavily. All the ice on the ground made the conditions perfect for picking grapes for the MacPherson winery’s famed ice wine. After all, the grapes had to be frozen for making this very special dessert wine. There was nothing better for him than to put on a well worn pair of overalls and one of his favourite comfortable flannel shirts. They were certainly a change from the suits and ties he was accustomed to wearing during high powered corporate meetings.
Louisa enjoyed having this time with him, as she hadn’t had a real chance to spend any time with him since the Vineyards Inn opened last summer. This would give them another chance to unwind and strengthen the growing bond between them.
He was just about to place some grapes in a basket when a sharp pain shot up his left arm. The pain was so strong that Seth felt breathless. Seth managed to get back into the office, where he quickly called Louisa over.
“I’m not sure about this, but I’m really hurting. Can you call a doctor?”
Seth felt the pain had subsided but there was still a residual effect. His left arm felt heavy and he felt at a loss for breath.
Louisa wasted no time. “I don’t think there’ll be enough time for that. I’m calling 911 right now.”
Seth winced and grabbed his chest. His pale look scared her. From what she remembered, it seemed like he’d never even suffered a cold. She’d stayed by his side to comfort him, but the false bravado was just that: a mask, and not a very pretty one. Life-threatening situations were new to her, and Louisa’s worry became obvious. A tear streamed down her cheek as Seth tried to reassure her.
“I’ll be OK. You can’t get rid of me this easily.” Seth tried to smile but it was apparent that the pain was coming on stronger.
Even in his pain he was trying to comfort someone else. Louisa didn’t want to cry but she was scared that Seth might die. It seemed like a miracle but the ambulance was making its way up the driveway.
Dinner would have to wait.
“Dad? Can anyone hear me out there? It’s me…Ryan!”
Louisa shouted at him to meet her where his father lay. Ryan, still on his ER rotation, had to take this day, of all things, to take his required paramedic ride-along. His cell phone and pocket computer were at the ready.
“Can you tell me what’s wrong? When did this start happening?”
“He said something about a pain in his left arm, and I saw him grab his chest just now. I’d say about five minutes ago.”
Ryan ran into the study in search of his father.
“Dad?”
He walked around the desk and gasped at the sight of his father sprawled out on the floor, white as the snow that was quickly covering the area.
“Oh God. Dad? Can you hear me? Please answer me!” Ryan desperately tried to revive his father. He quickly put a stethoscope to his ears and listened for vital signs. He motioned to the paramedics to start CPR . One counted, while the other began resuscitation.
Writing down the numbers he took, Ryan quickly placed a call to University Hospital.
“We have a male, 53 years old, complaining of chest pain. BP is...”
Ryan relayed the instructions to the two paramedics. Portable EKG equipment and IV bags flew everywhere as the three started administering to Seth. Seth tried to help but he started to slip out of consciousness. Louisa pulled him away to confide in him.
“Look, you’re doing the best you can. Your dad’s a strong man and he’ll come out of this. And you’re helping him. Pretty soon he’ll be back to normal.”
“Please, Louisa. I can’t talk now. We have to transport him immediately.” He stood at his father’s head while the paramedics were at his feet. “On my count. 1, 2, 3…”
The paramedics placed Seth on a stretcher and began wheeling him out. Seth still had not regained conscious and his color was still pale. The oxygen mask gave Seth an out of this world look.
“What happened to him? He’ll be OK, won’t he?” Louisa tried to get information but the paramedics were moving to fast to get Seth into the ambulance.
“Ryan, what is it?”
“We won’t know for sure until we get him to the ER. He is in good hands now. Let’s go.” Louisa and Ryan scrambled into the ambulance after Seth and the paramedics.
“You see, in no time he’ll be back to giving orders around here. Both of you will be back to watching Hockey Night in Canada before long,” Louisa reassured him.
“I’ve seen this more times than I care to count, and I’ve worked on more cases than I even want to mention,” Ryan told her. “It’s all touch and go. It’s one thing when it’s a stranger, lying there on a stretcher, depending on you to save his or her life. But when it’s my father lying there on that same stretcher…” He faded away.
“What is it, Ryan? Please tell me.”
“It scares the hell out of me.”
Episode 12: Riders on the Storm
Noelle still couldn't shake the feeling that had overcome her today. The physical attack may have been over, but the emotional pain had left scars which wouldn't heal. Salt must have been rubbed into them this morning, for the feelings have been more acute than they had been for the past seven months.
Maybe they were, but she had an appointment to keep. Dr. Yvette Moreau, with whom she and Ryan both worked on their psych. rotations, had requested that Noelle begin therapy with her.
Therapy. That was a very scary word. Noelle had been used to providing therapy for others, in her own way. Now that the tables were turned, who cares for the caregiver?
As she walked out of her room into the southern Ontario chill, a different kind of chill began to grab her. The snow fell onto her coat, and she plowed through with her boots to push it away.
Just push the pain away, she told herself. Push it out of my mind and it will go away.
And then it grappled her and pushed her to the ground, just like it did all those months ago.
Sweet Jesus, if You have any mercy at all...
As much as Noelle had suffered from the debilitating flashbacks,
moving on was important to her. If there was a way she could block this from her mind, she could. She closed her eyes and continued walking.
Again. You can do it. Push!
When she got to University Hospital, she let out a deep breath. There was something about these sterile walls which provided a weird source of comfort. She was in familiar surroundings after all.
She looked around the hallway before dashing to the stairs. The adrenaline began to pump. She avoided the elevator because it didn't move fast enough for her. The elevator, to her, produced a feeling of incarceration. Noelle would think it would swallow her alive.
When she got to the stairwell, she progressed slowly, three steps at a time. She thought she'd come crashing down to the hard concrete floor, but the thought of stopping now was more than she could handle.
Take a deep breath. One more time. PUSH!
With a hard panting and the feeling her heart would jump out of her chest, Noelle finally made it to the sixth floor. Pushing the door in front of her, she walked slowly into the hallway. When she got to the receptionist's desk, she smiled wanly.
"Ah, Ms. Armand. Dr. Moreau has been waiting for you. Go ahead and walk right in."
"Thank you."
Along the long corridor of offices, Dr. Yvette Moreau occupied the second door from the left. She wanted to make her patients as comfortable as possible, so she had decorated the surroundings in floral prints and wall posters of Cirque du Soleil. A coffee table was the room's centerpiece, with a tea service on one side and a box of tissues at the other. Behind Dr. Moreau's desk stood ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, all with scholarly journals.
Except for one shelf.
Noelle looked at the seemingly out of place shelf and thought to ask Dr. Moreau about it, but it would have to wait.
"Good morning, Noelle. Please have a seat. I've reviewed your file, and I think we can work well together. Is there anything you'd like to ask, or to know about, before we get started?"
"Well...I just noticed your bookshelves. I've seen the Annals of Psychiatry and the other journals, but I wanted to ask about this one book you have on your desk."
"You mean, Free From Your Past?"
"Yes, that one. I didn't know you read self help books."
"Oh, that. It isn't a self help book. I'm writing a paper for another journal about past life regression. There may be some validity to the idea, and that's what I'm interested in presenting. "
Noelle pondered that thought, then quickly dismissed it.
"I think it may help some patients to find answers in this life by tapping into a former one."
"Really," Noelle replied. "There must have been a serial killer who floated around in one of mine," she said impulsively. After a moment, she had realised what had just been blurted out. Her eyes began to well with tears. "I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from."
Yvette extended a comforting arm to Noelle's shoulder. "It's OK. It came from all those pent-up emotions inside of you. You're safe here. Go ahead and release them."
"What if I don't want to? Some things are better left unsaid."
As Noelle looked away, Yvette leaned in, her voice a near whisper.
"If you truly believed that, you wouldn't be here. It won't be easy, Noelle. But you'll begin to heal, in good time. I'm here to help you."
*****
As Louisa and Seth were finishing dinner, Seth dropped the bomb. The Vineyards Inn and the winery had been doing well this season, even garnering some rave reviews from the Claypool Chronicle and the local citizenry. Word of mouth began to spread around Ontario's Getaway Country, and both were feeling happy.
Seth, however, was about to drop a major bombshell.
“I've been thinking about changing careers and I have you to thank for that, Louisa.”
“That is what I love about you, Seth. You always get to the point.”
Louisa gazed across the table at him.
“I've admired what you've done with the inn. You've really turned this place around. To think last summer the house was in near ruins. Now look at it. Your grandmother Helena must be smiling down from above.” Seth winked to Louisa.
“Thanks, but my work here is just beginning. We've yet to turn the corner on this place. I can’t take all the credit, you know. Blaine's doing some great work in the kitchen . And Suzanne does her part. I may fuss at her sometimes, but, hey, she's my sister, after all. The work can really drain us, and we'll fight like cats and dogs, but when it all falls into place...when everything comes together, it give us all that the strength to take on more.”
Seth looked right into Louisa’s eyes. The changing shades of hazel were just as he had remembered them all those years ago. Still moody, still clear as a day on Georgian Bay.
“Seth? What are you doing? You seem so...I don't know. Far away.”
“Louisa, I have looked into those eyes a hundred times and I still love what I see.”
Overwhelmed at the attention, Louisa shied away from him and smiled, peering instead into the half full wine glass at his place. That was the thing about her, he thought. She always sees the glass half full instead of half empty.
“How about some wine?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Louisa?” Seth asked in a playful manner.
“If I wanted to get you drunk I 'd have gotten a two-four from the corner store.* It works faster.” They both laughed.
The intense sparks between them were about to catch fire. Neither of them wanted to eat, instead wanting to savor each other rather than the food. Trying to break away from her dreams, she asked Seth about his future.
“Do you have any idea what you want to do? You certainly have an open field to choose from.”
“I don't know. The family has the winery, but it's only a part of my life. It's not my whole life. I want to stop and smell the grapes from time to time. All this stuff about mid-life crises...it's a myth, if you ask me.”
Seth looked lovingly at Louisa. She hesitated for a moment before regaining her composure and returning to the conversation.
“You have a great knowledge of wines and literature. Have you ever thought of about doing some writing? Or maybe going back to teaching? I hear Stephane Armand is thinking about branching out. Maybe you can talk to him about teaching a class at La Cuisine.”
Louisa wanted to turn the subject back to romance but she wanted to take it slow with Seth.
“That sounds interesting. I really enjoy teaching and I 've thought about that. I also hear the Chronicle is looking for a restaurant critic. You and I can try out all the little bistros around here. God only knows Claypool's full of 'em. You work so hard, you deserve to be wined and dined."
Louisa extended a hand and started to speak, but not before Seth took the hand and placed it to his lips. She blushed gently.
"Enough talk about my career plans. I want to talk about a romantic career with you.”
“I had no idea there was an 'us' .”
Louisa could feel her heart skip a few beats. Seth walked over to her, and took her face into his hands.
"There should be a 'you and me', Louisa. We know and respect each other. I adore you. I love your strength, and determination to turn adversity into a tool for change. But more importantly I love you and I want us to make a life together. We have waited far too long.”
She had waited a long time to hear those words. She still exercised caution, though.
“Seth, I think that we should take it one step at a time. I adore you, too. With you I don’t have to apologize for being strong. But I have to admit that I am a bit scared. You are the one thing in my life that is pure bliss and I don’t want to lose that.”
“You're contradicting yourself. You just finished telling me that you feel totally comfortable with me , yet you're afraid that everything will fall apart. It seems to me that the ingredients for a harmonious union are already in place. I don’t want to scare you away. I don’t want to lose you.”
Seth looked away from Louisa. She felt a change of mood in the evening. While she could run a large operation like the inn with ease, she hesitated to become involved with Seth. She loved him but wanted to go slow. Such a wonderful, complicated man. Louisa wanted to be with Seth for as long as she could remember but there were always obstacles.
“The feelings that you inspire in me are heaven sent. I really feel like I can relax with you. But we aren't teenagers anymore.”
Louisa held his hand.
“You said that I make you feel secure. What more do you need? Just tell me and I'll give it to you.”
Louisa paused for a moment. “You and I are at a crossroads in our lives. It is an exciting time for both of us. I 'm not scared of being with you. I'm still cautious, though."
Seth smiled and took Louisa’s hands. “I understand. I don’t ever want you to think that I have taken you for granted. No matter where I have been you have always been in my heart.” Seth leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.
******
The snow outside belted Patrick with a fury. Notre Dame d'Orleans was blanketed with the white stuff, and he felt like he was pushing a tank up a steep hill. The sheer force of the storm threatened to bury him alive.
The rage and determination in his heart battled over the raging storm, and Patrick wasn't sure who would win. The only thing he was sure of was the sudden feeling his body had, coming to life with anticipation. The storm served to enhance that experience. As the wind picked up force, so too did Patrick’s resolve to bring his plan to fruition.
A strong burst of wind knocked him to the ground. He struggled to get back on his feet and opened his mouth to breathe. As the snow quickly filled his mouth, he choked back. The snowball expelled from his throat as he forced himself back up. By now he was growing tired and exhausted from fighting.
The putty in his pocket began to crack, and once it did that, it would no longer be useful.
What to do? He certainly couldn't throw it anywhere. That wouldn't do any good.
Quick. Think fast.
He took the small plastic zippered pouch which originally held the explosive, put the plastic inside, and shoved the whole thing into his pocket.
No good.
Mounting his motorcycle with his hell-bent-on-leather attitude, he sped toward Crimson Lodge with no time to waste.
When he got there, he knocked the door open and inspected the bar. One of the other brothers saw him, and shook hands.
"Brother MacPherson, I see you've come back to us just in time. Can I offer you something to drink?"
"You know my usual. Whiskey, straight up. I want to feel the burn."
Patrick's lodge brother poured the request and set the glass onto the counter. As Patrick took the swig, he indeed felt the burn...a slow, lingering one which set his throat on fire. It was a good burn, though, since the aftermath left him with a chill he thought refreshing, though it couldn't be nearly as cold as the impending storm outside.
“Nothing ever works out the way it's supposed to," Patrick growled. "People have forgotten that there is supposed to be a natural order, a purpose, and a chosen leader. Everything is in a downward spiral."
"I hear you."
“ I have my cause, though. I'm committed to it. So many people want prestige and wealth for their accomplishments. Who needs it? This dollar here," Patrick spun a loony around on the bar. He and his lodge brother watched it as it pirouetted, then decelerated and dropped onto the varnished wooden surface below.
"It's nothing." Patrick went on to demonstrate a classic sleight-of-hand parlor trick. "Now you see it." He passed his hand over the coin in his other hand. "Now you don't."
"Life is just like that magic trick I just did. An illusion. You wanna know why? Because...people... they're afraid. They've been lulled into a false sense of security. They go about their lives without any knowledge of what was and what could be. They aren’t willing to make any sacrifices. That is why they need people like us to show them the true way. There has to be pain before the glory.”
Patrick looked up at his brother, who was smiling. Was there something else they knew?
*two-four= case of beer, 24 cans, hence the name.
Corner store=convenience store.
Maybe they were, but she had an appointment to keep. Dr. Yvette Moreau, with whom she and Ryan both worked on their psych. rotations, had requested that Noelle begin therapy with her.
Therapy. That was a very scary word. Noelle had been used to providing therapy for others, in her own way. Now that the tables were turned, who cares for the caregiver?
As she walked out of her room into the southern Ontario chill, a different kind of chill began to grab her. The snow fell onto her coat, and she plowed through with her boots to push it away.
Just push the pain away, she told herself. Push it out of my mind and it will go away.
And then it grappled her and pushed her to the ground, just like it did all those months ago.
Sweet Jesus, if You have any mercy at all...
As much as Noelle had suffered from the debilitating flashbacks,
moving on was important to her. If there was a way she could block this from her mind, she could. She closed her eyes and continued walking.
Again. You can do it. Push!
When she got to University Hospital, she let out a deep breath. There was something about these sterile walls which provided a weird source of comfort. She was in familiar surroundings after all.
She looked around the hallway before dashing to the stairs. The adrenaline began to pump. She avoided the elevator because it didn't move fast enough for her. The elevator, to her, produced a feeling of incarceration. Noelle would think it would swallow her alive.
When she got to the stairwell, she progressed slowly, three steps at a time. She thought she'd come crashing down to the hard concrete floor, but the thought of stopping now was more than she could handle.
Take a deep breath. One more time. PUSH!
With a hard panting and the feeling her heart would jump out of her chest, Noelle finally made it to the sixth floor. Pushing the door in front of her, she walked slowly into the hallway. When she got to the receptionist's desk, she smiled wanly.
"Ah, Ms. Armand. Dr. Moreau has been waiting for you. Go ahead and walk right in."
"Thank you."
Along the long corridor of offices, Dr. Yvette Moreau occupied the second door from the left. She wanted to make her patients as comfortable as possible, so she had decorated the surroundings in floral prints and wall posters of Cirque du Soleil. A coffee table was the room's centerpiece, with a tea service on one side and a box of tissues at the other. Behind Dr. Moreau's desk stood ceiling-to-floor bookshelves, all with scholarly journals.
Except for one shelf.
Noelle looked at the seemingly out of place shelf and thought to ask Dr. Moreau about it, but it would have to wait.
"Good morning, Noelle. Please have a seat. I've reviewed your file, and I think we can work well together. Is there anything you'd like to ask, or to know about, before we get started?"
"Well...I just noticed your bookshelves. I've seen the Annals of Psychiatry and the other journals, but I wanted to ask about this one book you have on your desk."
"You mean, Free From Your Past?"
"Yes, that one. I didn't know you read self help books."
"Oh, that. It isn't a self help book. I'm writing a paper for another journal about past life regression. There may be some validity to the idea, and that's what I'm interested in presenting. "
Noelle pondered that thought, then quickly dismissed it.
"I think it may help some patients to find answers in this life by tapping into a former one."
"Really," Noelle replied. "There must have been a serial killer who floated around in one of mine," she said impulsively. After a moment, she had realised what had just been blurted out. Her eyes began to well with tears. "I'm sorry. I don't know where that came from."
Yvette extended a comforting arm to Noelle's shoulder. "It's OK. It came from all those pent-up emotions inside of you. You're safe here. Go ahead and release them."
"What if I don't want to? Some things are better left unsaid."
As Noelle looked away, Yvette leaned in, her voice a near whisper.
"If you truly believed that, you wouldn't be here. It won't be easy, Noelle. But you'll begin to heal, in good time. I'm here to help you."
*****
As Louisa and Seth were finishing dinner, Seth dropped the bomb. The Vineyards Inn and the winery had been doing well this season, even garnering some rave reviews from the Claypool Chronicle and the local citizenry. Word of mouth began to spread around Ontario's Getaway Country, and both were feeling happy.
Seth, however, was about to drop a major bombshell.
“I've been thinking about changing careers and I have you to thank for that, Louisa.”
“That is what I love about you, Seth. You always get to the point.”
Louisa gazed across the table at him.
“I've admired what you've done with the inn. You've really turned this place around. To think last summer the house was in near ruins. Now look at it. Your grandmother Helena must be smiling down from above.” Seth winked to Louisa.
“Thanks, but my work here is just beginning. We've yet to turn the corner on this place. I can’t take all the credit, you know. Blaine's doing some great work in the kitchen . And Suzanne does her part. I may fuss at her sometimes, but, hey, she's my sister, after all. The work can really drain us, and we'll fight like cats and dogs, but when it all falls into place...when everything comes together, it give us all that the strength to take on more.”
Seth looked right into Louisa’s eyes. The changing shades of hazel were just as he had remembered them all those years ago. Still moody, still clear as a day on Georgian Bay.
“Seth? What are you doing? You seem so...I don't know. Far away.”
“Louisa, I have looked into those eyes a hundred times and I still love what I see.”
Overwhelmed at the attention, Louisa shied away from him and smiled, peering instead into the half full wine glass at his place. That was the thing about her, he thought. She always sees the glass half full instead of half empty.
“How about some wine?”
“Are you trying to get me drunk, Louisa?” Seth asked in a playful manner.
“If I wanted to get you drunk I 'd have gotten a two-four from the corner store.* It works faster.” They both laughed.
The intense sparks between them were about to catch fire. Neither of them wanted to eat, instead wanting to savor each other rather than the food. Trying to break away from her dreams, she asked Seth about his future.
“Do you have any idea what you want to do? You certainly have an open field to choose from.”
“I don't know. The family has the winery, but it's only a part of my life. It's not my whole life. I want to stop and smell the grapes from time to time. All this stuff about mid-life crises...it's a myth, if you ask me.”
Seth looked lovingly at Louisa. She hesitated for a moment before regaining her composure and returning to the conversation.
“You have a great knowledge of wines and literature. Have you ever thought of about doing some writing? Or maybe going back to teaching? I hear Stephane Armand is thinking about branching out. Maybe you can talk to him about teaching a class at La Cuisine.”
Louisa wanted to turn the subject back to romance but she wanted to take it slow with Seth.
“That sounds interesting. I really enjoy teaching and I 've thought about that. I also hear the Chronicle is looking for a restaurant critic. You and I can try out all the little bistros around here. God only knows Claypool's full of 'em. You work so hard, you deserve to be wined and dined."
Louisa extended a hand and started to speak, but not before Seth took the hand and placed it to his lips. She blushed gently.
"Enough talk about my career plans. I want to talk about a romantic career with you.”
“I had no idea there was an 'us' .”
Louisa could feel her heart skip a few beats. Seth walked over to her, and took her face into his hands.
"There should be a 'you and me', Louisa. We know and respect each other. I adore you. I love your strength, and determination to turn adversity into a tool for change. But more importantly I love you and I want us to make a life together. We have waited far too long.”
She had waited a long time to hear those words. She still exercised caution, though.
“Seth, I think that we should take it one step at a time. I adore you, too. With you I don’t have to apologize for being strong. But I have to admit that I am a bit scared. You are the one thing in my life that is pure bliss and I don’t want to lose that.”
“You're contradicting yourself. You just finished telling me that you feel totally comfortable with me , yet you're afraid that everything will fall apart. It seems to me that the ingredients for a harmonious union are already in place. I don’t want to scare you away. I don’t want to lose you.”
Seth looked away from Louisa. She felt a change of mood in the evening. While she could run a large operation like the inn with ease, she hesitated to become involved with Seth. She loved him but wanted to go slow. Such a wonderful, complicated man. Louisa wanted to be with Seth for as long as she could remember but there were always obstacles.
“The feelings that you inspire in me are heaven sent. I really feel like I can relax with you. But we aren't teenagers anymore.”
Louisa held his hand.
“You said that I make you feel secure. What more do you need? Just tell me and I'll give it to you.”
Louisa paused for a moment. “You and I are at a crossroads in our lives. It is an exciting time for both of us. I 'm not scared of being with you. I'm still cautious, though."
Seth smiled and took Louisa’s hands. “I understand. I don’t ever want you to think that I have taken you for granted. No matter where I have been you have always been in my heart.” Seth leaned over and kissed her gently on the lips.
******
The snow outside belted Patrick with a fury. Notre Dame d'Orleans was blanketed with the white stuff, and he felt like he was pushing a tank up a steep hill. The sheer force of the storm threatened to bury him alive.
The rage and determination in his heart battled over the raging storm, and Patrick wasn't sure who would win. The only thing he was sure of was the sudden feeling his body had, coming to life with anticipation. The storm served to enhance that experience. As the wind picked up force, so too did Patrick’s resolve to bring his plan to fruition.
A strong burst of wind knocked him to the ground. He struggled to get back on his feet and opened his mouth to breathe. As the snow quickly filled his mouth, he choked back. The snowball expelled from his throat as he forced himself back up. By now he was growing tired and exhausted from fighting.
The putty in his pocket began to crack, and once it did that, it would no longer be useful.
What to do? He certainly couldn't throw it anywhere. That wouldn't do any good.
Quick. Think fast.
He took the small plastic zippered pouch which originally held the explosive, put the plastic inside, and shoved the whole thing into his pocket.
No good.
Mounting his motorcycle with his hell-bent-on-leather attitude, he sped toward Crimson Lodge with no time to waste.
When he got there, he knocked the door open and inspected the bar. One of the other brothers saw him, and shook hands.
"Brother MacPherson, I see you've come back to us just in time. Can I offer you something to drink?"
"You know my usual. Whiskey, straight up. I want to feel the burn."
Patrick's lodge brother poured the request and set the glass onto the counter. As Patrick took the swig, he indeed felt the burn...a slow, lingering one which set his throat on fire. It was a good burn, though, since the aftermath left him with a chill he thought refreshing, though it couldn't be nearly as cold as the impending storm outside.
“Nothing ever works out the way it's supposed to," Patrick growled. "People have forgotten that there is supposed to be a natural order, a purpose, and a chosen leader. Everything is in a downward spiral."
"I hear you."
“ I have my cause, though. I'm committed to it. So many people want prestige and wealth for their accomplishments. Who needs it? This dollar here," Patrick spun a loony around on the bar. He and his lodge brother watched it as it pirouetted, then decelerated and dropped onto the varnished wooden surface below.
"It's nothing." Patrick went on to demonstrate a classic sleight-of-hand parlor trick. "Now you see it." He passed his hand over the coin in his other hand. "Now you don't."
"Life is just like that magic trick I just did. An illusion. You wanna know why? Because...people... they're afraid. They've been lulled into a false sense of security. They go about their lives without any knowledge of what was and what could be. They aren’t willing to make any sacrifices. That is why they need people like us to show them the true way. There has to be pain before the glory.”
Patrick looked up at his brother, who was smiling. Was there something else they knew?
*two-four= case of beer, 24 cans, hence the name.
Corner store=convenience store.
Episode 11 (Season 2 Premiere): Brand New Day
The skies over the Ontario Provincial Police's Ottawa detachment cast a gray, misty pall over the building and the rest of Canada's capital this morning. Now that the year had already turned to 2000, it had been rather normal for southern Ontario.
The only millennium bugs Dr. Maria del Carmen Escalante Rojas thought she had to worry about were the flu cases jamming her emergency department. There were a lot of them, and she lost count of the prescriptions for Relenza she had written in the last week. One after another, she had signed off on instructions for the new inhaler medication on the market.
If she just didn't have the chills herself. Maria was used to the hurry-up-and-wait pace at the hospital, but the time she was spending at the police station made fifteen minutes seem like fifteen days. She paced the floor, almost wearing a small trench with her steps, and rubbed her arms to try to bring herself some needed warmth. Though the temperature was below freezing outside, it may as well have been inside.
Don't Jarrett and Gauthier have any consideration for humanity?
As she reached for the pack of tissues in her purse, her cell phone chirped Beethoven's Ninth, and she went to retrieve it. Elise Jarrett grabbed her arm and stopped her.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm afraid we'll have to take that."
"Why?" Maria asked, as if she were being charged with possession of a deadly weapon. Possession of a cell phone?
"It's standard procedure, ma'am. Security reasons."
"Uhhh...excuse me?"
Gauthier rumbled. "We can't allow anyone under questioning to have anything which may pose a danger to anyone."
Maria grabbed the phone and shoved it in Gauthier's face. "This...device...poses no danger. In fact, I do just the opposite with it. I'm hoping to prevent danger. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a call to answer."
Gauthier continued unfazed. "Ma'am, we have to take your phone until we are finished with the questioning."
Maria exhaled slowly, then coughed. What part of 'no' don't these two understand? "For one thing, you're not getting it. For another, I'm not 'ma'am'. I'm 'doctor'. For a third, imagine yourself in a situation where your life is threatened and you'll need someone like me to save you. Comprenez-vous?"
Jarrett crooked her index and middle fingers, motioning to Maria.
"Hand it over, " Jarrett told her, palm extended. Maria slammed the phone into Jarrett's palm and grumbled.
Stupid cops.
"Don't I get to make my one phone call?"
Jarrett pointed to the phone on the desk. "Who do you plan to call?"
*****
With the exception of the studio fire, Suzanne and Blaine's return from Toronto was a triumphant one. Though it had been more than a month ago, their euphoria was still evident, though tempered with their feelings toward their older sister.
The book had been sitting in the trunk of Blaine's car all this time, not necessarily because they were hiding it from Louisa. After all, they just could have misplaced the tome.
Blaine's care in talking to Suzanne made itself evident.
“How are we going to get the cookbook back into the library without Louisa finding out?"
Suzanne gave Blaine a condescending look. “Don’t worry about Louisa. She has so many books in that library that I hardly think she’ll miss this one. Besides, she probably tucked it behind something else and forgot about it.”
She closed her eyes and turned her back to Blaine, who was still unconvinced.
“Suzanne, I don’t think Louisa will be happy with us…” She suddenly turned around and shot her brother a look of disdain.
“Would you relax already? If Louisa had her way, she'd enshrine the thing behind a glass display case. All we did was borrow it, not steal it. And now we're returning it, just like in a public library. See, no one got hurt.”
She noticed the hurt look on Blaine’s face and sympathized. Taking Blaine’s hand in her own, she offered a few words of sisterly comfort.
"Hey, I’m sorry. Even if Louisa does find out the book is missing, she’ll be mad about it for a few days and everything will blow over. It's much ado about nothing."
“What if Louisa hides the cookbook and we can't find it?”
Suzanne sat up and pondered that thought for a while before her face lit up with a mischievous grin. “If that’s the case, we’ll have to tear this place down brick by brick until we find it.”
As they dissolved in laughter, Louisa continued her search for the missing book.
“Those two fools. They have no idea what they're doing . Suzanne did it. I know she did.”
Louisa’s quiet verbal rampage was suddenly interrupted. Suzanne, always the more theatrical one, walked over to Louisa and throws her arms around her.
“Was that a great show, or what? We almost burned down the house. MuchMusic would have nothing on us. We really rocked! Hollywood'll be calling for sure. Or maybe Cannes. Riviera, here we come!”
Blaine just stood there, blasé about the whole thing. Louisa focused on him, seemingly magnifying his discomfort. Suzanne stared, wondering what would happen next. Louisa put her arm around him.
“Blaine, you haven’t said hello yet. How about a hug? Come on. I want to congratulate my baby brother.”
Blaine walked over to Louisa and embraced her rather stiffly. Usually, he was more affectionate than this, but his rigidity set off alarms with Louisa. What was going on here? The three walked over to the library.
Suzanne saw the shelves in disarray. “What happened here, Louisa? You used to be so careful about keeping the study clean.” Suzanne walked over to a stack of books and picked one up at random. Louisa felt a flush over her face, and did her best to try to hide it. Walking over to Suzanne, she started to yank the book out of Suzanne's hand.
“You know, I really wanted to read that new book by Nora Roberts, but I can’t find it now. You know how I am about MY BOOKS.” Louisa said, staring at Suzanne dead on. Suzanne, never one to flinch in a showdown, met Louisa’s cold stare with a grin. Suzanne grabbed the book from Louisa’s hand and tried to stall her.
“Louisa, you have such a nice collection of books but there really is no order. I mean, Nora Roberts next to John Grisham next to Julia Child? You should consider getting someone in here to organize the library. Then perhaps you can open it up to the guests. It could be another good selling point.”
Suzanne looked at Louisa, who would dearly have loved nothing more now than to drop the charade and confront Blaine and Suzanne about the missing cookbook.
“Instead of having some stranger come in why don’t you organize the library, Suzanne? After all, I did hire you on as a housekeeper.”
"Precisely," Suzanne smiled. "I'm a housekeeper, not a librarian."
What an insult! I may be a lowly housekeeper, but one day I'm going to be a star, and Louisa will sit in this great big house, all by her little lonesome.
. “You seem to know your way around this library and its contents so well. I hope you didn’t take offence at my suggestion."
"No. None at all," Suzanne replied.
The best defence is a good offence.
“Well it has been a long day. I am tired and I have rooms to clean and breakfast to help fix tomorrow. Blaine wants me to help him cut vegetables." She turned to her brother, smiling gently. "Isn't that right, Blaine? I will give your idea some thought, though, Louisa. 'night!”
Suzanne gathered her belongings and started out of the library. Louisa stopped her, just short of a full confrontation.
“You know, Suzanne, I find that after a long day, I can’t get to sleep right away. I find that a good book helps me relax.”
Suzanne smiled at her. “No, thanks. I've had enough reading today just with the newspaper. I think I'll just go to sleep See you in the morning.”
Blaine felt the urge to bolt, but the weight of his feet underneath him were about to make him buckle. He couldn't seem to move at all.
Having wished her sister good night, Louisa was about to do the same with her brother. “How about you, Blaine? Read any good books lately?”
Blaine suddenly felt his legs becoming as strong as Donovan Bailey's. He certainly still felt like he wanted to sprint out of there. He could, though, pull off a good bluff.
"No, but I hear Julia Child has a new one out that's supposed to be really good. How does she do it? The woman's almost 90 years old and she amazes me!"
"Good night, Blaine."
He did sprint upstairs to the family's private area and let out a breath. His heart still pounded, and all he wanted to do was to slow it down a little. Suzanne caught him at the head of the stairs.
“Did you see that little performance Louisa put on for us? She knows about the cookbook, but I don’t care. I’m not ready to give it up yet. She's making a big fuss over nothing."
Suzanne shrugged. Blaine just shook his head as each of them went to their rooms to go to sleep.
*****
Thérèse studied the figures she had typed into the computer. She tried to crunch the numbers once again, but each time she arrived at the same answer. This trip to Louisiana was impossible for the entire family but she was able to go on her own. Stephane wasn't pleased in the least with his wife's sudden burst of assertiveness.
“Thérèse, dear, this is really not the best time for you to leave and travel all the way to Louisiana. What about Noelle? It isn’t the best time for any of us.” Stephane glanced at Thérèse, making his displeasure evident.
“Remember when Ryan and Dr. Escalante talked to us at the hospital? They both agreed that we all get back to a normal routine. I've also talked to Noelle, and she'll be seeing a therapist there. Ryan worked with Dr. Moreau on his last rotation, and she comes highly recommended. Noelle will be in the best of care,"
Thérèse responded, annoyed at Stephane’s protests. As much as he wanted to avoid an argument, one would ensue anyway.
“I haven’t seen my family for quite some time. I remember when we all would get together for family events. And then one day, oncle Michel passed away and something drastically changed. “
Thérèse expressed herself in a quiet, but forceful tone. She did everything she could to keep from crying, but the emotions straining beneath the surface started to simmer, much like the pot au feu which was one of the specialties at La Cuisine.
Stephane, too, simmered, but in a much different way. Though quiet, like his wife, that was where the similarities ended. It had been seven months since the brutal assault on their daughter, but his impressions on Thérèse's seeming lack of involvement with Noelle were altogether wrong.
Noelle and Thérèse had many arguments over the years because of Noelle’s choices. Thérèse didn’t want Noelle to be a doctor, instead wanting her to continue with the family business. Noelle's rapport with children first manifested itself all those summers ago when she was first asked to teach "Cooking for Kids" at La Cuisine. Because of that, Noelle thought a lot about the kids who couldn't come to the classes...those who were sick, and those whose parents could afford only the most meager of living arrangements.
Because of that interest, and her independent drive, Noelle chose to attend medical school and aspired to become a pediatrician. Patrick mentioned that Ryan was attending the University of Ottawa, and she quickly followed, never straying from the path she set for herself.
Stephane never wanted to get in the middle of his daughter and wife. Like most fathers, he doted on Noelle, referring to her as "petite princesse" when she was younger . He wanted nothing more than to love her and have her love him. He never saw any of her faults.
When the letter came from her cousin, it gave Thérèse an outlet for her feelings. She was always fighting her feelings of wanting to be accepted. She always felt that she had done something to cause her aunt to and mother to break all ties.
“Noelle has always been a strong person. She is fighting like never before to regain her independence . She doesn’t need me.” Thérèse was surprised at her rather cold assessment of her daughter.
“Noelle is not as strong as everyone thinks she is," Stephane replied. "She is simply putting up a brave front so that no one worries about her. How can you be so cavalier about this?”
The Armands stared at each other. Thérèse really needed a tissue, but she couldn't let on that she was about to cry. Instead, she exhaled, put her hands on her hips, and rose slowly.
“How dare you accuse me of being cavalier about what happened to our daughter! I 've tried to comfort her, but she pushes me away. I certainly can’t push her. If I did that, all she'd do is turn around and run. That's the last thing I want, and I'm sure it's the last thing you want."
Thérèse burst into tears and Stephane put his arms around Thérèse to comfort her. They both cried. How could something so beautiful turn so cruel?
The only millennium bugs Dr. Maria del Carmen Escalante Rojas thought she had to worry about were the flu cases jamming her emergency department. There were a lot of them, and she lost count of the prescriptions for Relenza she had written in the last week. One after another, she had signed off on instructions for the new inhaler medication on the market.
If she just didn't have the chills herself. Maria was used to the hurry-up-and-wait pace at the hospital, but the time she was spending at the police station made fifteen minutes seem like fifteen days. She paced the floor, almost wearing a small trench with her steps, and rubbed her arms to try to bring herself some needed warmth. Though the temperature was below freezing outside, it may as well have been inside.
Don't Jarrett and Gauthier have any consideration for humanity?
As she reached for the pack of tissues in her purse, her cell phone chirped Beethoven's Ninth, and she went to retrieve it. Elise Jarrett grabbed her arm and stopped her.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm afraid we'll have to take that."
"Why?" Maria asked, as if she were being charged with possession of a deadly weapon. Possession of a cell phone?
"It's standard procedure, ma'am. Security reasons."
"Uhhh...excuse me?"
Gauthier rumbled. "We can't allow anyone under questioning to have anything which may pose a danger to anyone."
Maria grabbed the phone and shoved it in Gauthier's face. "This...device...poses no danger. In fact, I do just the opposite with it. I'm hoping to prevent danger. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a call to answer."
Gauthier continued unfazed. "Ma'am, we have to take your phone until we are finished with the questioning."
Maria exhaled slowly, then coughed. What part of 'no' don't these two understand? "For one thing, you're not getting it. For another, I'm not 'ma'am'. I'm 'doctor'. For a third, imagine yourself in a situation where your life is threatened and you'll need someone like me to save you. Comprenez-vous?"
Jarrett crooked her index and middle fingers, motioning to Maria.
"Hand it over, " Jarrett told her, palm extended. Maria slammed the phone into Jarrett's palm and grumbled.
Stupid cops.
"Don't I get to make my one phone call?"
Jarrett pointed to the phone on the desk. "Who do you plan to call?"
*****
With the exception of the studio fire, Suzanne and Blaine's return from Toronto was a triumphant one. Though it had been more than a month ago, their euphoria was still evident, though tempered with their feelings toward their older sister.
The book had been sitting in the trunk of Blaine's car all this time, not necessarily because they were hiding it from Louisa. After all, they just could have misplaced the tome.
Blaine's care in talking to Suzanne made itself evident.
“How are we going to get the cookbook back into the library without Louisa finding out?"
Suzanne gave Blaine a condescending look. “Don’t worry about Louisa. She has so many books in that library that I hardly think she’ll miss this one. Besides, she probably tucked it behind something else and forgot about it.”
She closed her eyes and turned her back to Blaine, who was still unconvinced.
“Suzanne, I don’t think Louisa will be happy with us…” She suddenly turned around and shot her brother a look of disdain.
“Would you relax already? If Louisa had her way, she'd enshrine the thing behind a glass display case. All we did was borrow it, not steal it. And now we're returning it, just like in a public library. See, no one got hurt.”
She noticed the hurt look on Blaine’s face and sympathized. Taking Blaine’s hand in her own, she offered a few words of sisterly comfort.
"Hey, I’m sorry. Even if Louisa does find out the book is missing, she’ll be mad about it for a few days and everything will blow over. It's much ado about nothing."
“What if Louisa hides the cookbook and we can't find it?”
Suzanne sat up and pondered that thought for a while before her face lit up with a mischievous grin. “If that’s the case, we’ll have to tear this place down brick by brick until we find it.”
As they dissolved in laughter, Louisa continued her search for the missing book.
“Those two fools. They have no idea what they're doing . Suzanne did it. I know she did.”
Louisa’s quiet verbal rampage was suddenly interrupted. Suzanne, always the more theatrical one, walked over to Louisa and throws her arms around her.
“Was that a great show, or what? We almost burned down the house. MuchMusic would have nothing on us. We really rocked! Hollywood'll be calling for sure. Or maybe Cannes. Riviera, here we come!”
Blaine just stood there, blasé about the whole thing. Louisa focused on him, seemingly magnifying his discomfort. Suzanne stared, wondering what would happen next. Louisa put her arm around him.
“Blaine, you haven’t said hello yet. How about a hug? Come on. I want to congratulate my baby brother.”
Blaine walked over to Louisa and embraced her rather stiffly. Usually, he was more affectionate than this, but his rigidity set off alarms with Louisa. What was going on here? The three walked over to the library.
Suzanne saw the shelves in disarray. “What happened here, Louisa? You used to be so careful about keeping the study clean.” Suzanne walked over to a stack of books and picked one up at random. Louisa felt a flush over her face, and did her best to try to hide it. Walking over to Suzanne, she started to yank the book out of Suzanne's hand.
“You know, I really wanted to read that new book by Nora Roberts, but I can’t find it now. You know how I am about MY BOOKS.” Louisa said, staring at Suzanne dead on. Suzanne, never one to flinch in a showdown, met Louisa’s cold stare with a grin. Suzanne grabbed the book from Louisa’s hand and tried to stall her.
“Louisa, you have such a nice collection of books but there really is no order. I mean, Nora Roberts next to John Grisham next to Julia Child? You should consider getting someone in here to organize the library. Then perhaps you can open it up to the guests. It could be another good selling point.”
Suzanne looked at Louisa, who would dearly have loved nothing more now than to drop the charade and confront Blaine and Suzanne about the missing cookbook.
“Instead of having some stranger come in why don’t you organize the library, Suzanne? After all, I did hire you on as a housekeeper.”
"Precisely," Suzanne smiled. "I'm a housekeeper, not a librarian."
What an insult! I may be a lowly housekeeper, but one day I'm going to be a star, and Louisa will sit in this great big house, all by her little lonesome.
. “You seem to know your way around this library and its contents so well. I hope you didn’t take offence at my suggestion."
"No. None at all," Suzanne replied.
The best defence is a good offence.
“Well it has been a long day. I am tired and I have rooms to clean and breakfast to help fix tomorrow. Blaine wants me to help him cut vegetables." She turned to her brother, smiling gently. "Isn't that right, Blaine? I will give your idea some thought, though, Louisa. 'night!”
Suzanne gathered her belongings and started out of the library. Louisa stopped her, just short of a full confrontation.
“You know, Suzanne, I find that after a long day, I can’t get to sleep right away. I find that a good book helps me relax.”
Suzanne smiled at her. “No, thanks. I've had enough reading today just with the newspaper. I think I'll just go to sleep See you in the morning.”
Blaine felt the urge to bolt, but the weight of his feet underneath him were about to make him buckle. He couldn't seem to move at all.
Having wished her sister good night, Louisa was about to do the same with her brother. “How about you, Blaine? Read any good books lately?”
Blaine suddenly felt his legs becoming as strong as Donovan Bailey's. He certainly still felt like he wanted to sprint out of there. He could, though, pull off a good bluff.
"No, but I hear Julia Child has a new one out that's supposed to be really good. How does she do it? The woman's almost 90 years old and she amazes me!"
"Good night, Blaine."
He did sprint upstairs to the family's private area and let out a breath. His heart still pounded, and all he wanted to do was to slow it down a little. Suzanne caught him at the head of the stairs.
“Did you see that little performance Louisa put on for us? She knows about the cookbook, but I don’t care. I’m not ready to give it up yet. She's making a big fuss over nothing."
Suzanne shrugged. Blaine just shook his head as each of them went to their rooms to go to sleep.
*****
Thérèse studied the figures she had typed into the computer. She tried to crunch the numbers once again, but each time she arrived at the same answer. This trip to Louisiana was impossible for the entire family but she was able to go on her own. Stephane wasn't pleased in the least with his wife's sudden burst of assertiveness.
“Thérèse, dear, this is really not the best time for you to leave and travel all the way to Louisiana. What about Noelle? It isn’t the best time for any of us.” Stephane glanced at Thérèse, making his displeasure evident.
“Remember when Ryan and Dr. Escalante talked to us at the hospital? They both agreed that we all get back to a normal routine. I've also talked to Noelle, and she'll be seeing a therapist there. Ryan worked with Dr. Moreau on his last rotation, and she comes highly recommended. Noelle will be in the best of care,"
Thérèse responded, annoyed at Stephane’s protests. As much as he wanted to avoid an argument, one would ensue anyway.
“I haven’t seen my family for quite some time. I remember when we all would get together for family events. And then one day, oncle Michel passed away and something drastically changed. “
Thérèse expressed herself in a quiet, but forceful tone. She did everything she could to keep from crying, but the emotions straining beneath the surface started to simmer, much like the pot au feu which was one of the specialties at La Cuisine.
Stephane, too, simmered, but in a much different way. Though quiet, like his wife, that was where the similarities ended. It had been seven months since the brutal assault on their daughter, but his impressions on Thérèse's seeming lack of involvement with Noelle were altogether wrong.
Noelle and Thérèse had many arguments over the years because of Noelle’s choices. Thérèse didn’t want Noelle to be a doctor, instead wanting her to continue with the family business. Noelle's rapport with children first manifested itself all those summers ago when she was first asked to teach "Cooking for Kids" at La Cuisine. Because of that, Noelle thought a lot about the kids who couldn't come to the classes...those who were sick, and those whose parents could afford only the most meager of living arrangements.
Because of that interest, and her independent drive, Noelle chose to attend medical school and aspired to become a pediatrician. Patrick mentioned that Ryan was attending the University of Ottawa, and she quickly followed, never straying from the path she set for herself.
Stephane never wanted to get in the middle of his daughter and wife. Like most fathers, he doted on Noelle, referring to her as "petite princesse" when she was younger . He wanted nothing more than to love her and have her love him. He never saw any of her faults.
When the letter came from her cousin, it gave Thérèse an outlet for her feelings. She was always fighting her feelings of wanting to be accepted. She always felt that she had done something to cause her aunt to and mother to break all ties.
“Noelle has always been a strong person. She is fighting like never before to regain her independence . She doesn’t need me.” Thérèse was surprised at her rather cold assessment of her daughter.
“Noelle is not as strong as everyone thinks she is," Stephane replied. "She is simply putting up a brave front so that no one worries about her. How can you be so cavalier about this?”
The Armands stared at each other. Thérèse really needed a tissue, but she couldn't let on that she was about to cry. Instead, she exhaled, put her hands on her hips, and rose slowly.
“How dare you accuse me of being cavalier about what happened to our daughter! I 've tried to comfort her, but she pushes me away. I certainly can’t push her. If I did that, all she'd do is turn around and run. That's the last thing I want, and I'm sure it's the last thing you want."
Thérèse burst into tears and Stephane put his arms around Thérèse to comfort her. They both cried. How could something so beautiful turn so cruel?
Friday, November 20, 2009
Episode 10 (Season 1 Finale): Suspicious Minds
"I could've sworn I put that book right here", Louisa said, pointing to the shelf where she filed the cookbook the night before. "Help me look, Seth."
Seth rose slowly from the other Queen Anne chair in the corner. He gave the shelves a glance and couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.
“Are you sure you didn’t misplace it?”
“How could I?” Louisa was incredulous. “That book was exactly where I put it when I went to bed last night.”
“Then it should turn up, shouldn’t it?”
She shrugged. “Well, I suppose you’re right.” She hated being proven wrong. Leave it to Louisa to feel defeated.
They paused for a moment before Seth suggested they adjourn to the common room to watch TV.
“I was interested in watching Breakfast in Canada, you know, to see how Blaine and Suzanne are doing.”
“Blaine told me last night they’d be all right.”
“Don’t you want to know what they’re up to?”
They’re up to their usual, Louisa thought, only they’re doing it in front of the entire country.
“All right,” she agreed. “It’ll give us something to do this morning”.
Seth and Louisa sat on each end of the common room’s sofa, glancing at each other briefly before he picked up the remote. Louisa fidgeted a bit before the familiar strains of the breakfast theme filled the room.
“Hello, I’m Paige Gilbert. Today on Breakfast in Canada we’ll continue our report on Canadian Justice: an in-depth look at the Gail Miller murder case. We’ll also have a preview of this year’s Grey Cup championship between the Montreal Alouettes and the Calgary Stampeders .. First, though, we have our holiday series on family traditions in the kitchen. Please welcome, from Claypool, Ontario’s, Vineyards Inn…Chef Blaine Carroll and his sous-chef for the day, his sister Suzanne.”
Paige always thought the smells emanating from the studio kitchen were quite wonderful. It did remind her of her parents’ kitchen. Of course, she always complimented all the chefs who appeared on Breakfast in Canada, but she made it especially important to shower accolades on the Carroll brother-sister team.
When Suzanne pulled the first apple pie from the oven to cool, she took it to the counter where the camera was pointed. Thank goodness for oven mitts, or she would have had scarred hands by now.
“When you take the pie from the oven, make sure you have a place to cool it…” Suzanne instructed. “Or else,” she dropped the pie on the cooling rack and yelled, “OUCH! That’s what happens when you get burned.”
She sniffed the air, and noticed something wasn’t right. She motioned to Paige, who just shrugged as the odor got stronger. Uh-oh.
“Blaine! Get over to the oven! And find a fire extinguisher, NOW!”
Paige just smiled at the camera.
“We’ll be right back.”
*****
So would Maria, after she had a good day’s sleep. All she wanted was to go home to her nice, clean, comfortable…and warm, bed. That sounded good right about now. Once again, she got stuck pulling a late nighter after most of her students and residents packed up and went home for the holidays. Maria was alone, and she resented it.
She heard the door creak open, or at least, that was what she thought.
“Excuse me?” she asked. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
Elise Jarrett walked in, emotionless, with Rene Gauthier standing behind her, arms folded. “We received your fax this morning,” Jarrett told Maria.
“And? You didn’t have to come all the way over here to tell me that.”
“Detective Jarrett and I reviewed your records and we have reason to believe you’re keeping something from us.”
“What else can I tell you two?” Maria sounded indignant. “I cooperated fully with you. I gave you every single piece of information I know.”
“We’ll settle that at the station, “ Jarrett said. “We’d like for you to come with us.”
Maria shook her head violently. “I don’t think so. I’m not going anywhere.”
Gauthier held up a pair of handcuffs. “Will we have to force you?”
Maria held her hands out.
“Do what you have to. You’ll hear from my lawyer.”
*****
Apple pies, burnt or otherwise, were the farthest things from Thérèse Armand’s mind. She and Stephane had thought about selecting a recipe for their Christmas classes, but they’d argued about it, and whether or not the pies should have flaky crusts or crumb toppings.
Maybe we can do both, Stephane encouraged. Maybe the year after. But we just can’t do it right now.
He and Thérèse sorted out the records and the menu planning. Stephane was busy typing a shopping list into their computer when Noelle walked in the room. She kissed her father lightly on the cheek. He returned the affection with an embrace as she handed an envelope to Thérèse.
“Maman, this came for you. I signed for it. Someone named Hebert. I think it’s from cousin André, but I’m not sure.”
Hebert….Hebert. Thérèse hadn’t heard that name in years. The only Hebert she knew of was a distant branch of her family who lived in Louisiana. Could it be…?
“Bonjour, ma chère cousine,” the letter began. “Nous invitons…”
Her heart skipped a beat or two.
It was!
Perhaps this was the chance Thérèse had looked for for many years, and finally found. Finally, she would get to see the brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins, she missed so much.
She looked up from her place and gave her family a very unusual smile. “My dear family…how would you like to go south for Christmas?”
*****
“No. The statue of Jeanne d’Arc isn’t to the south. It’s to the southeast.”
Patrick MacPherson grumbled. He thought he had the church grounds accurately drawn out on the crude paper map.
He knelt in front of the gilt statue of St. Joan on horseback and took something else out of his pocket. It looked like a kneaded rubber eraser, but Patrick hoped he’d erase more than just graphite from paper.
“What little they know, the fools,” Patrick said, as if he were carrying on a conversation with the martyr. “Once this baby blows up and goes boom, they’ll all be burning. Just like you, Joan of Arc. Except for them, they’ll all be burning with the fires of hell!”
He smiled with glee at the word hell. What a lovely place, the inferno. Desecration would be a small price to pay when he could wipe out an entire congregation.
As he planted the rest of the faux erasers along the perimeter of the building, he recited a childhood prayer as it were just another schoolyard rope jumping verse.
“Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”
Seth rose slowly from the other Queen Anne chair in the corner. He gave the shelves a glance and couldn't find anything out of the ordinary.
“Are you sure you didn’t misplace it?”
“How could I?” Louisa was incredulous. “That book was exactly where I put it when I went to bed last night.”
“Then it should turn up, shouldn’t it?”
She shrugged. “Well, I suppose you’re right.” She hated being proven wrong. Leave it to Louisa to feel defeated.
They paused for a moment before Seth suggested they adjourn to the common room to watch TV.
“I was interested in watching Breakfast in Canada, you know, to see how Blaine and Suzanne are doing.”
“Blaine told me last night they’d be all right.”
“Don’t you want to know what they’re up to?”
They’re up to their usual, Louisa thought, only they’re doing it in front of the entire country.
“All right,” she agreed. “It’ll give us something to do this morning”.
Seth and Louisa sat on each end of the common room’s sofa, glancing at each other briefly before he picked up the remote. Louisa fidgeted a bit before the familiar strains of the breakfast theme filled the room.
“Hello, I’m Paige Gilbert. Today on Breakfast in Canada we’ll continue our report on Canadian Justice: an in-depth look at the Gail Miller murder case. We’ll also have a preview of this year’s Grey Cup championship between the Montreal Alouettes and the Calgary Stampeders .. First, though, we have our holiday series on family traditions in the kitchen. Please welcome, from Claypool, Ontario’s, Vineyards Inn…Chef Blaine Carroll and his sous-chef for the day, his sister Suzanne.”
Paige always thought the smells emanating from the studio kitchen were quite wonderful. It did remind her of her parents’ kitchen. Of course, she always complimented all the chefs who appeared on Breakfast in Canada, but she made it especially important to shower accolades on the Carroll brother-sister team.
When Suzanne pulled the first apple pie from the oven to cool, she took it to the counter where the camera was pointed. Thank goodness for oven mitts, or she would have had scarred hands by now.
“When you take the pie from the oven, make sure you have a place to cool it…” Suzanne instructed. “Or else,” she dropped the pie on the cooling rack and yelled, “OUCH! That’s what happens when you get burned.”
She sniffed the air, and noticed something wasn’t right. She motioned to Paige, who just shrugged as the odor got stronger. Uh-oh.
“Blaine! Get over to the oven! And find a fire extinguisher, NOW!”
Paige just smiled at the camera.
“We’ll be right back.”
*****
So would Maria, after she had a good day’s sleep. All she wanted was to go home to her nice, clean, comfortable…and warm, bed. That sounded good right about now. Once again, she got stuck pulling a late nighter after most of her students and residents packed up and went home for the holidays. Maria was alone, and she resented it.
She heard the door creak open, or at least, that was what she thought.
“Excuse me?” she asked. “Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
Elise Jarrett walked in, emotionless, with Rene Gauthier standing behind her, arms folded. “We received your fax this morning,” Jarrett told Maria.
“And? You didn’t have to come all the way over here to tell me that.”
“Detective Jarrett and I reviewed your records and we have reason to believe you’re keeping something from us.”
“What else can I tell you two?” Maria sounded indignant. “I cooperated fully with you. I gave you every single piece of information I know.”
“We’ll settle that at the station, “ Jarrett said. “We’d like for you to come with us.”
Maria shook her head violently. “I don’t think so. I’m not going anywhere.”
Gauthier held up a pair of handcuffs. “Will we have to force you?”
Maria held her hands out.
“Do what you have to. You’ll hear from my lawyer.”
*****
Apple pies, burnt or otherwise, were the farthest things from Thérèse Armand’s mind. She and Stephane had thought about selecting a recipe for their Christmas classes, but they’d argued about it, and whether or not the pies should have flaky crusts or crumb toppings.
Maybe we can do both, Stephane encouraged. Maybe the year after. But we just can’t do it right now.
He and Thérèse sorted out the records and the menu planning. Stephane was busy typing a shopping list into their computer when Noelle walked in the room. She kissed her father lightly on the cheek. He returned the affection with an embrace as she handed an envelope to Thérèse.
“Maman, this came for you. I signed for it. Someone named Hebert. I think it’s from cousin André, but I’m not sure.”
Hebert….Hebert. Thérèse hadn’t heard that name in years. The only Hebert she knew of was a distant branch of her family who lived in Louisiana. Could it be…?
“Bonjour, ma chère cousine,” the letter began. “Nous invitons…”
Her heart skipped a beat or two.
It was!
Perhaps this was the chance Thérèse had looked for for many years, and finally found. Finally, she would get to see the brothers, sisters, uncles, aunts, cousins, she missed so much.
She looked up from her place and gave her family a very unusual smile. “My dear family…how would you like to go south for Christmas?”
*****
“No. The statue of Jeanne d’Arc isn’t to the south. It’s to the southeast.”
Patrick MacPherson grumbled. He thought he had the church grounds accurately drawn out on the crude paper map.
He knelt in front of the gilt statue of St. Joan on horseback and took something else out of his pocket. It looked like a kneaded rubber eraser, but Patrick hoped he’d erase more than just graphite from paper.
“What little they know, the fools,” Patrick said, as if he were carrying on a conversation with the martyr. “Once this baby blows up and goes boom, they’ll all be burning. Just like you, Joan of Arc. Except for them, they’ll all be burning with the fires of hell!”
He smiled with glee at the word hell. What a lovely place, the inferno. Desecration would be a small price to pay when he could wipe out an entire congregation.
As he planted the rest of the faux erasers along the perimeter of the building, he recited a childhood prayer as it were just another schoolyard rope jumping verse.
“Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…”
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