It Isn't Cheating if He's Dead (24 page)

"I can get on board with that." They
shared a brief kiss. He stood and grabbed two boxes at a time and jostled
through the doorway.

She ran her hands over the seat of the sofa,
sighed, stood and picked up a box. Her eyes surveyed the small space one last
time before stepping outside.

She was keeping the house. Would be there almost
every day for her practice. But it wouldn’t be Gerald’s house. Not their house.
No, she’d closed the door on that chapter of her life. And was about to swing a
new one wide open and leap right through.

Finn placed a dress on a padded hanger and
tucked it into the empty side of his closet. Her side. “I spoke with the Regina
police this afternoon.”

“And?”

“I confirmed that Joseph has been found
here. Not sure where to go from there. He’s a grown man. They can’t force him
to go home. But if he doesn’t, then his brother-in-law’s bid for custody will
be a no-brainer. It’ll be ruled parental abandonment.”

She sat on the floor in front of Finn's
massive walnut dresser, refolded tank tops and sweaters, and placed them into
the drawers Finn had cleaned out for her. “We have to tell him. If he knows
about his daughter, he’ll go back.”

“They asked me to join them when they
interview the brother-in-law. I’m going tomorrow.”

She perked up. “And me.”

“I didn’t figure I’d get away without you.
I told them you represent Joe. Already got you a plane ticket.”

She smiled. Of course he did. “Thanks. Getting
him his parental rights back is my first official case. Even if my client
doesn’t know it yet.”

“What’s your first move, legally speaking?”

“I’ve got to make a few calls. It’s not my
usual area. But I have some contacts. I’m hoping Sid will see him, get him some
preliminary therapy. Not sure if that’s going to be necessary, but I’m betting
so. And I’ll pay you back for the ticket.”

He pulled her up from the floor. “It’s on
me. Consider it an office-warming gift.”

She tucked her fingers into the waistband
of his pants and tugged him towards her. “As long as it’s not for services
rendered.” She stood on her tiptoes and crushed her lips to his.

Jem lounged sideways across an oversize
chair in the living room of her new home. Her legs thrown over one armrest, she
ran her hand across the leather and stared out at the tops of the birch and
aspen that grew in the yards of the houses below. The view was perfect. The
house was perfect. Finn was perfect. How did this happen to her?

She eyed the spotless room. At least she’d
never have to dust or vacuum again. That was perfect too.

She plucked her cell phone from her stomach
and punched numbers in. She gnawed on her thumbnail. Four, five, six rings.
Damn it, pick up.

“Hello, Jemima.”

“Sid, hi. Look, do you remember that
homeless man I told you about?”

“Yes, you thought PTSD, right?”

“Right. Would you see him? He can’t pay. If
you don’t want to do it for free, I can foot the bill. I’ve made progress and I
don’t want to let it backslide.”

“All right. Can you bring him tomorrow
afternoon? Say four-thirty?”

“No, not tomorrow. We’ve found out who he
is, and he has a daughter he thought died — a baby. I haven’t told him yet. Not
sure how I’m going to. But tomorrow I’m going to Regina to see her and to speak
with the uncle who’s been taking care of her. We’re back same day, how about
the day after?”

“Sure, let’s see.” Paper rustled through
the receiver. “How about the morning. Ten?”

“That’s perfect. If we don’t show up it’s
because I couldn’t get him to come. But I have a feeling he will.”

“See you then. But Jemima, you might want
me to tell him about his daughter. In the office, in a controlled environment.”

Not bloody likely. She wanted to be the
bearer of that particular good news. “Thanks, Sid. You’re a peach.”

not your child

Jem sat in the window seat of the Boeing
737. Finn was stuffed into the small space beside her, his knees jammed against
the seat in front, his shoulder and arm infiltrating her space.

In the stale air of the cabin, her chest
heaved. The spout above her head offered a thin stream of cold air that blew
her bangs into her eyes and tickled the fine hairs on her cheek. She reached up
and twisted it shut. Within two minutes, her body overheated. She squirmed and
wrested her arms free from the summer-weight black suit jacket with the three-quarter
sleeves. The smell of sweat and other people’s feet overtook the air around
her. The constant loud hum of the engine made her head throb. She turned the
air conditioning spout back on and aimed it away from her face.

Finn touched her bare forearm. She started
and jerked it away.

“Jumpy much?” His quizzical eyebrow taunted
her.

“Sorry. But yes. I almost feel guilty that
we get to meet his daughter before he does.”

The flight attendant rolled an aluminum
cart down the aisle, bumping Finn’s elbow when she came to a stop beside him.

Jem passed on the meager snack offerings
but accepted a cup of coffee. She sipped it, wrinkled her nose at the strong,
distasteful brew and shifted in her seat.

Finn flipped through the growing number of
pages in Joseph’s file. “Man, he’s only twenty-four.”

“Joe? That can’t be right.”

“No, his brother-in-law, Bill Engles. And
single. That’s a lot to take on, raising someone else’s child, even in better
circumstances.”

The intercom scratched to life and
announced the slow descent into Regina. Jem stared out the window at the city
below. Joe’s brother-in-law shouldn’t be strapped with his dead sister’s baby.
He should be finding his own life. Falling in love and having his own children.
 

When the plane stopped a hundred yards from
the terminal and the seatbelt light went out, Finn unbuckled and stood. He
shook his legs and bent them a few times.

“Too cramped?”

“Always. Too bad this flight has no first
class seats.”

He stepped back and held Jem’s hand while
she squeezed from the seat. Outside the porthole, a staircase rolled towards the
plane. A few bangs and grinds later and the door opened. They stepped out into
a windy, overcast day and made their way down the steps and across the tarmac. Waiting
near the terminal doors, was one uniformed officer and a man in a suit with ‘cop’
written all over him. He stepped towards Finn.

“Detective Wight?”

Finn held out his hand. “Jefferson? Nice to
meet you.” They shared a stiff handshake, just one manly pump of the arm. Finn
put a hand on the small of Jem’s back. “This is Joseph Carlisle’s lawyer,
Jemima Stone.”

“Pleasure, ma’am.”

“Jem, thanks. Ma’am really isn’t my style.”

The car headed north from the airport. A
few minutes, and several turns, later they were whipping along a country road
at a good clip.

Jem stared out the car window and watched kilometers
of wheat and crops speed by while the endless horizon held its place in the
distance. Good thing they flew in. If she’d had to drive through this flat nothingness
she’d have nodded off at the wheel and hit the ditch for sure.

After fifteen minutes, they turned into a
gravel laneway and pulled up in front of a Victorian-style farm house. Gravel
crunched under the tires of Jefferson’s unmarked cruiser as it rolled to a
stop. Jem stepped from the back seat and surveyed the acreage.

Mature trees of all varieties surrounded
the front yard. From a thick branch of one maple, a tire swing hung, the rubber
faded from exposure to the elements, chains spotted with rust. Next to it, a
child’s plastic swing swayed in the breeze. It was the baby kind, white and
blue and orange, with leg holes and a chest restraint. It dangled from thick
rope. No chains for tiny fingers to get caught in. It looked brand new next to
the old tire.

She followed Finn and Jefferson up four
wooden steps onto a wide porch that wrapped around the house. The space was shaded
and protected by the floors of the rooms overhead. Next to a large picture
window, a wooden porch swing hung from the ceiling, a smattering of large
building blocks littered the floor in front of it. A rag doll sat slumped over
in the swing.

  Jefferson rapped his knuckles on the
door, three sharp knocks. From inside, footsteps neared the entry, then the
curtain was pulled aside. A young man peered out at them, his hair mussed, eyes
sleepy.

“Mr. Engles?” Jefferson flashed his badge
at the window. “Can we speak to you? It’s about your brother-in-law, Joseph
Carlisle.”

The door creaked open and Bill Engles
stepped onto the porch. “What about him? You find his body or something?”

Jem drew back, her mouth dropped open. Was
this man made of steel?

“No sir.” Jefferson pulled at his tie. “He’s
been found. Alive. In Calgary.”

“What? Who found him?”

“I did.” Jem held her hand up, fingers
splayed.

“How’d you even know he was missing?”

“I didn’t. He showed up one day, in a park
where I go most mornings. I started talking to him, trying to get him to talk
to me. He hasn’t said much.”

From inside the open door, a baby cried.
Bill excused himself and slipped into the house. He returned with a small girl
in his arms. Her blonde curls were messed from sleep. She yawned and rubbed her
eyes. Red-rimmed steel grey eyes.

Jem’s heart skipped a beat. The child was a
ringer for Joe. A ringer with fat cheeks and soft, feathery, never-cut hair. A
ringer who smelled of baby powder and Arrowroot biscuits instead of months old
body odour and filth. “Is this Emma?”

“Yes. Emma Jean Engles.”

“You mean Carlisle.”

“Maybe legally. For now. But when I adopt
her it’ll be Engles.”

“Mr. Engles, you don’t understand.” She
glanced at Finn and Jefferson, waiting for one of them to stop her, but no one
did. “Joseph has been found. He’s her father.” She eyed the way he held the
girl, both arms engulfing her, protecting her from being snatched away. She
squinted. “Did you even try to look for him?”

“No. Why should I? He up and left his kid
alone.”

“But he didn’t know she’d survived. He’d
just watch his wife die —”

“My sister.”

“Yes. Your sister. I’m so sorry for your
loss. But Joe thought the baby died too. He was distraught. In shock. He still
is.”

“I don’t care. It’s his fault anyway. He
caused that accident. He killed my sister. Why should he even get to see Emma?”

Finn stiffened. “Mr. Engles, I’m afraid
you’ve got some bad information there.”

Bill shifted his attention to Finn, his
brow furrowed. “He lost control, slammed into a light pole. How can that not be
his fault?”

“It was no one’s fault. The roads were icy,
it was in the middle of a snowstorm. She was in labour, he was trying to get
her to the hospital. There is no evidence of reckless driving. No proof he did
anything wrong. His driving record is exemplary.”

“I don’t buy it. Why else would he run? He
just didn’t want to face the music.”

Jem’s face flushed. She balled her fists
and bit her tongue. “Mr. Engles, he left because he was struck with overwhelming
grief. Probably guilt too, but not in a legal, avoiding prosecution way. Even
if he’s not guilty under the law, he still feels that he was responsible.
Wouldn’t you?”

Bill bounced Emma on his hip. The girl let
a spit-bubble fueled laugh go and grasped his lower lip. He peeled her fingers
off and kissed her nose. “Cut it out Emma-bear.”

Jem glanced at Finn. She’d been so focused
on Joe, on helping him and getting his daughter back, she failed to notice how
much this man loved his niece. He’d stepped up and taken her in. Raised her to
this point all on his own, and by all appearances, he’d done an excellent job
of it. He didn’t let Emma get lost in the system, or end up in the arms of
strangers.

“Look,” she softened her tone. “It’s
obvious how much you love Emma. Try to imagine how Joe would feel about her.
She’s his daughter. Imagine if someone were to take her from you.”

“Isn’t that exactly what you’re trying to
do?”

“Not take her away. Only to let her know
her father. You wouldn’t lose her. She’d still be right here in Regina.”

He pulled Emma closer and glared at Jem.

“Mr. Engles, she’s not yours.” Finn took a half-step
forward and put a hand on Bill’s shoulder. “You’ve done a wonderful thing,
taking care of her. You’re a good man, a good uncle. But she’s not your child.”

“Joe will be returning,” Jem said. “You
can’t adopt her without his consent.”

“I won’t give her up. I’m her daddy now,
not Joe.”

Jem set her jaw and exhaled fast through
her nose. “I’m sorry you feel that way. I’ll be filing to have your temporary
custody revoked. All parental rights will be restored to Joe.” She pulled out
her cell phone and snapped a picture of Emma.