Grave Concern (39 page)

After dinner, Kate suggested watching a movie. Leonard was game, and of the three old
VHS
tapes Mary had loaned her during the long closure of Ho Lam's Vacuous Viewing, they chose
Casablanca
, which, they agreed, you could never see too many times. Kate inserted the cassette in the machine, and Leonard settled into her couch with the remote.

“Hey,” she said. “How did you know that was the right remote?” It had taken her a couple of weeks, when she moved back into her parents' house, to sort out which of several possible remotes went with which device. To Kate, these gadgets were no less than alien life forms, sent to weaken earthlings by messing with the collective mind.

“I dunno,” said Leonard. “Just looked right.”

“How does a remote ‘look right'?”

Leonard studied the remote, and then Kate's face. “Dunno. Like when I first saw you, you just ‘looked right.' ”

“Wow, smooth,” said Kate. “How many women you picked up with that?”

“No, really,” said Leonard. “I just go with my gut. Like that guy, for instance — ” nodding at the raven glowering from the dining room table, “ — he just looked right, too.”

“So … your gut, eh?” said Kate. “Okay, so here's a puzzle I've been going over and over in my mind. The trouble is, my mind seems incapable of figuring it out. It's driving me bonkers. Maybe what I need is your ‘gut.' You with me?”

“Uh, okay …”

Kate explained the conundrum of the fire and J.P. and the strongbox and Raw-Raw and the diggings and the new tidbits of information coaxed from Nicholas. She withheld mention of J.P.'s ghost.

Leonard looked miffed. More than miffed. Downright upset. “You still obsessing on that?”

“Obsessing. Yeah, I guess you could say that. But,” Kate hastened to add, “not to the exclusion of all other obsessions.”

“Isn't that a line in the wedding vows?”

“Not to the exclusion of all other obsessions?”

“
To
the exclusion of all others.”

“Yeah well, in my case, I'm afraid the obsession has been lifelong.”

“
Has been
. But Kate, will it
always be
, assuming of course the future tense exists?”

“The future
tense
exists
,
for sure,” Kate said.

“Okay, okay. The future, then. Does the
future
exist? Because I don't know if I can handle your obsession too far into it.”

This stopped Kate dead. Leonard was right. If she was going to have anything serious with him at all, she would have to cool off in a major way on the whole J.P. thing.

“Kate, J.P. is dead. He's gone. He's not here. He may be in some parallel universe, but if you go visit him there, I don't want to know about it. And I'm definitely not coming along. Okay?”

Kate was silent for a moment. Then she said, “Well, what about you? Here you are, thirty-six years old, and I haven't heard a whit about a woman. There must have been someone, no?”

“Ask my parents:
nevarh mahriet, nevarh mahriet.
”

Kate did not smile. “You're not getting out of it that easily,” she said.

“Okay, okay. Yes, there've been a few. A
few
, not many. A couple serious ones, back in the city. One, Lisa, I lived with for two years. I nearly married Kim-Ly —
that
would have been a huge mistake. But they're over, Kate. Done. I don't think about them anymore. Except maybe as long-ago fond memories, like a friend in public school. Something like that.”

“So I'm guessing,” Kate said, “you're not going to lend me your gut for my private investigations.”

“I'll lend you any other part of my body, however,” Leonard said.

And with that,
Casablanca
was forgotten. For the second time in his life, Leonard was taken to bed in Kate's house. But for only the first time, the bed he was led to was Kate's.

Kate was walking along the highway toward the cemetery when a truck in her rear-view mirror grew huge, bearing down. Kate started to run, but she rose and hovered above the ground, her steps slow and floating, like a moon-walking astronaut. She grew hot and frustrated, anxious for each footfall to arrive. She needed to push off, push off hard to escape her pursuer, not a truck at all, she saw now, but an enormous cat, a giant sabre-toothed tiger. The first touch of the claw felt almost gentle on her neck …

Kate woke in a state of shock, the dream as real as Leonard still fast asleep beside her. Still running, she lashed involuntarily out — and kicked Leonard hard with a cramped, toenail-forward foot.

“Ouch!” Leonard cried. “Am I dreaming, or am I being mauled by a man-eating tiger?”

Oh my God, Kate. Come to your senses.
Kate gathered her wits as expeditiously as she could. Dream. Bed. Leonard.

“Well, I won't guarantee that you weren't.”

Kate had a flashback. In the dream, just before the claw on her neck, she had seen in the rear-view mirror a cat's vicious, long-toothed grimace. Not a cat, but J.P. — wide-mouthed with rage.

Kate groaned dramatically and turned over, as though falling back to sleep. She had no desire to talk. She lay still, softly panting, sweat coating every surface of her skin. Only a dream, Kate. Only a dream. Deliberately, she set the dream aside.
I'll deal with you later.

“Deal with me later, huh? Is that how you talk to the poor guy you've lured into bed?” Leonard joked, and threw an arm across her.

Had she spoken aloud? Kate laughed it off. “Still dreaming, I guess.”

The previous night's lovemaking began to return to her in video-like clips — in the throes of desire, they had fallen onto Kate's old childhood single bed, set against the wall. What came next was a little drama, a little comedy, more than enough reality TV. But overall, it had felt right. She remembered thinking,
thank God for menopause
. No carcinogenic pills, no antiseptic-smelling potions or lotions, no awkward latex devices, no superhuman restraint had been necessary — she hoped, anyway. One was never, at this stage of life, absolutely sure about these things.

Kate was trapped on the wall side. Her bladder bulging, mere seconds from serious leakage, Kate whispered her need into her lover's ear. Leonard — who claimed to have always wanted to know what “sweet nothings” were and now did — took her in a bear hug, rolled her over his body (Kate madly did Kegels, as taught in her “core fitness” class in the city, to keep from peeing) and placed her more or less gently on the carpet.

Kate sat on the toilet, her thick head in her hands, trying
not
to assess the situation. Trying
not
to think about the dream. Trying
not
to think about the whole sorry parade that marched endlessly through her head: the fire, the strongbox, Raw-Raw, the diggings, the cougar, J.P., Greta, and Foxy — and now,
the dream
.

That was her trouble. Too much thought, not enough gut. The ease of gut access was what she loved about Leonard. And envied. Well, they said opposites attract. The night had been wonderful, no doubt. There had been quirks and embarrassments, but overall Kate still felt as good about Leonard as when he'd arrived for dinner, which she took as a positive sign. It was the dream that had shaken her up.

Leonard called from the bedroom, “Kate, it's only seven! Please tell me you're not an early riser!”

Her mind still awhirl, Kate failed to reply.

“Kate, are you all right?”

“Fine. Be there in a second!”

“Not to worry. You were so quiet, I thought you'd been abducted by aliens.”

“Nothing on the lawn when I last checked,” Kate said. “I'll keep an eye out.”

“Good,” said Leonard, and closed his eyes.

When Kate returned to the bedroom, she found Leonard fast asleep. She watched his even breathing, the light twitches of his eyes beneath their lids. So innocent he looked. Like a child. What kind of a match would they make? Because it seemed certain they were heading for matrimony, in spirit, if not — or
not yet
— in law.

But she wouldn't think of that now. Twenty years ago, Kate would have jumped back in with the guy and pestered him for more action. Now she pulled the covers up over his shoulders against the morning chill and padded downstairs, with an eye to a pot of strong coffee.

“Hille! I haven't seen you for ages! Where've you been hiding?”

Hille blushed and squeezed her armload of groceries tighter. “Kate! How
are
you?”

“Oh, the usual. Confused.”

Hille responded with a look of more confusion than Kate in fact felt.

“Anyway,” said Kate, “enough about me. How's it going with the — ”

Hille jumped in before Kate could go on. “Everything's good. Good. Yeah. Just getting some groceries. You know, long weekend coming up.”

Of course. Kate had forgotten. Labour Day. The last kick at summer. Last chance for a blowout before winter's imperatives — icy roads, hectares of shovel-ready snow, nasty ankle-twisting falls, frozen compost — would start to pile up like falling dominoes.

Kate spied a couple of bags of hamburger buns in Hille's groceries. “Having a barbeque?”

Hille blushed again. “Yeah. As a matter of fact. How did you know? W — uh, would you like to come?”

Ugh. Kate hated being asked to a party when it was patently clear the invitation was extended out of guilt. If you went, you felt like a heel, just the same as if you didn't. She deeply regretted the barbeque remark.

“Thanks. Uh, let me check my calendar. I think there might be something on, but I'll let you know, okay?”

“Okay. So what's new with you?” said Hille, whose red face had settled down to pink. “Grave-tending going good?”

“Not quite as well as hoped,” Kate said. “Got a notice the other day my office rent's being upped. A lot. But keep that on the QT, okay?”

“Okay,” said Hille. “Uh, what's ‘the QT,' again?”

“Quiet,” Kate said, touching finger to lips. “We don't want vultures circling.”

“Vultures?” Hille whispered, obviously mystified. “Don't worry. I won't say anything.”

“Good. And how're things with you and Ron?” said Kate in a normal voice, hinting they needn't whisper. “How's Neville? Has he made the big move yet?”

“Once or twice, but I've told him it won't get him anywhere,” Hille said.

Kate laughed. “I meant the move to Pine Rapids. So I take it he
is
here.”

“Yeah, and it's kind of a problem,” said Hille. “Maybe I could come and talk to you sometime? I don't mind paying. You're pretty cheap, considering. I mean — ”

“It's okay, Hille. I know what you mean. Sure, come anytime. The more often the better. Speaking of which — how's the boobs? Still perky?”

Slowly, Hille lowered the grocery bag. Kate gasped. “Hille, what happened?”

Hille grinned ear to ear. “I decided they weren't really me. And I didn't want the reminder right
inside
.”

“Reminder?”

“Of Neville. So I got them removed. What do you think?”

Kate didn't know what to say. “I — I think it's a big improvement. Really. But, uh, how — ”

“Told the doctor they hurt. Which they did. Kind of. Anyway, thanks for y'know,” said Hille, touching Kate's arm. “See you Saturday? People are coming around five-thirty or six.”