Episode 17: The Long and Winding Road (Season 2 Finale)

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?”