after I called you. First I’d heard that he’d left was when I drove into town to visit him in the hospital around two o’clock. Becky Holmes was on the floor and she filled me in. I told her I’d drive to his place to check on him.”
“Becky became a nurse?”
“Yeah. She married Kevin Wilders, but I still think of her as Becky Holmes.”
“There was a time, I thought you and Becky...”
“Well, high school romances don’t always end happily.”
“That’s for sure.” You and me, Maja, we’ll be together forever. Billy Okwari’s black eyes intense and certain. His lips warm on mine, sealing the deal. “Did you find Dad?” I asked, more harshly than I’d intended.
“I didn’t get over to see him until about five o’clock. I got held up.” Jonas’s eyes met mine then slid away.
What aren’t you telling me, Jonas, I thought, but I let it go. He’d tell me when he was ready.
“It had started snowing just after lunch. I thought I’d shovel off Dad’s back steps before I went inside to see him. I tramped through the snow to his shed and took out the first shovel I grabbed for. The sun was setting, but there was still enough light to make out shapes in the shed. The shovel wasn’t hanging up as usual but leaning up against the wall. You know how meticulous Dad is about putting things back in their place, and I guess that was the first indication that something wasn’t right. Didn’t seem like much at the time, though. Anyhow, I started back towards the steps. Dad has his outdoor lights on a timer, and it was bright enough. I was about to start shovelling when I looked over and saw him next to the woodpile.”
“Dad?”
“Yeah, Dad. He was covered in snow, but I could make out his shape. The snow was dark around his head.” Jonas hesitated. “I took off a glove and brushed the snow off him. I don’t know why, since I knew he was dead. He was lying on his stomach, but his head was turned to the side like he was listening for something deep in the ground. It was a shock to see his eyes open, frozen in place. His mouth was gaping as if he’d been trying to yell. The back of his head was caved in like a melon. I...I grabbed the shovel and leaned it up against the steps. I just left. Man, there was blood...everywhere. It looked like somebody’d spilled a bowl of cranberry sauce in the snow.”
“You didn’t call the police?”
Jonas shook his head. “I couldn’t seem to make myself think. I sat in the truck for I don’t know—a minute and then drove to Hadrian’s bar. That’s where they found me. I sort of blanked, I think. All that blood. It got to me, you know?”
“Oh, Jonas. I’m so sorry.”
Jonas lifted one shoulder in a shrug. He didn’t raise his head. I put my hand around his wrist that rested on the table. “Did they tell you what happened?”
“Somebody thwacked him in the back of the head with the shovel.”
“The shovel that you got from the shed.”
Jonas nodded. His eyes met mine. “The shovel with my fingerprints on it.”
“But surely to God they can’t seriously suspect you.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.”
I let out a sharp laugh. “Why, you were the one who stuck by him. That has to count for something.”
“I had as much reason to want him dead as anyone.” Jonas moaned, then rolled his body sideways and stood. “I can’t talk about this any more now. Claire and Gunnar are home.” Jonas rubbed a hand through his hair as he walked towards the backdoor to meet them.
I realized then that I’d heard tires crunching on the snow in the driveway even while my brain was taking in what Jonas had said. I kept my eyes on Jonas, but my mind was scrambling to make sense of what he’d revealed. What had happened between Dad and Jonas that could have Jonas wanting him dead? We’d all have understood if I’d done the murderous deed, but that anger was a long time past. I stared at Jonas’s back, at the way his shoulders hunched forward and his hand rubbed the nape of his neck. He was more than just worried. Something was on his conscience. My stomach clenched in a spasm of dread. I’d always wondered what would happen if Jonas was pushed too far. I wished for that moment that I had never left the safety of Sam and Ottawa.
I’d lived a coward’s life, avoiding anything that resembled strong emotion. I’d done it deliberately, accepting the sacrifices it had caused. My whole adult life had been spent avoiding just what lay before me now...and I would give anything to go back into the safety of my cocoon, back to the time before Claire’s phone message had burst the illusion.
Claire and Gunnar brought in a blast of cold air and a lot of activity that eased the tension that had built up in the kitchen between me and Jonas. Gunnar was a slender blond boy, as Jonas had been at the same age, a jumble of gangly legs and arms that marked the beginning of his transformation into a man. He had Claire’s eyes, soft, dreamy orbs that seemed to look right through you into another world. He accepted my hug without hugging me back before stepping back beside his father.
Claire wrapped her arms around my back and squeezed. She smelled of vanilla and Ivory soap. “So glad you’re here,” she whispered into my ear. “Come with me into the living room. Jonas will put the groceries away and start supper. He loves to cook.”
“I’ll bring you some wine in a minute,” Jonas said, already pulling food out of a bag on the counter. “Sure, you can have a cookie before dinner, but just one,” I heard him say to Gunnar as we started down the hallway. “Aunt Maja has brought pie for dessert.”
The living room was lined with pine and as cozy a room as I’d ever been in. Logs burned in the stone fireplace, radiating a circle of heat into which we lowered ourselves after a quick tour of the room. We sat facing each other at each end of a deep, velvet-covered couch. A hooked rug of brown, red and plum rested cheerfully under my feet. Claire tucked a long leg under herself and leaned back into the pillows. “This is my one indulgence,” she said, rubbing her hand along the couch’s plush surface.
“It’s beautiful,” I said. “The bottle green colour is exquisite.”
“I know it’s impractical, but sometimes you just have to go with something you like and to hell with the consequences.” She laughed, and her grey eyes narrowed as she looked past me. I turned and saw Jonas standing by the bookcase holding two glasses of white wine. His eyes lowered quickly, but the set line of his mouth let me know that he was not happy. He’d have been running a hand through his blonde curls if not for the wine.
“Thanks, darling,” Claire said, reaching toward Jonas. Her long elegant fingers closed around both glasses, and she passed one over to me. Gold bracelets clinked and slid down her arm. She was wearing a tight black turtleneck that showed off her muscular arms and boyish chest. Claire had been a champion cross country skier in her early twenties and obviously still worked at staying in shape. She’d cut her black hair short and spiky, and I thought it suited the strong lines of her face.
“Supper in an hour,” Jonas said before disappearing back into the kitchen.
“Thanks, hon.” Claire took a mouthful of wine and looked at me over the rim of the glass. “Has he told you about finding your father?”
I
