It Isn't Cheating if He's Dead (25 page)

Bill turned away and covered Emma’s head
with one hand. “Why’d you do that?”

“Joe needs to see his daughter.”

Jefferson cleared his throat. “Mr. Engles,
you’re not going to run are you?”

Bill’s shoulders slumped, tears stained his
cheeks. “No. Where would I take her? This is her home. She loves the swings.”

“Good.” Jefferson held out his hand and
Bill shifted Emma in his grip and shook it. “Because we’ll get an order of
protection if we have to.”

Bill exhaled, his bravado deflated. “Where
the hell has he been anyway?”

“We aren’t sure where he was between November
and last month.” Finn put his hand on Jem’s shoulder. “Ms. Stone found him
living in the park.”

“Living there? Like a homeless guy?”

Jem cleared her throat. “Yes, he’s been
living on the streets. But he’s not homeless, his home is right here. He’s just
been away.”

“Is he in his right mind? I mean who does
that, walk away from their life and live on the streets?”

“Lots of people do that.” Jem had seen her
share of them. But none like Joe. “We think he’s suffering from post-traumatic
stress disorder. I’ve arranged for him to see a psychiatrist to work through
the trauma of the accident and losing his family. He’ll be fine.”

“Will he be able to take care of her? To be
a good father?”

“I have no doubt.”

“Wait.” Bill stepped back into the house
and emerged a minute later. He handed Jem a picture. “This one’s better.”

Emma sat on Bill’s lap, a fake blue sky in
the background. Bill beamed at the camera. Emma laughed and drooled.

Jem smiled. “Thank you.”

“Am I going to have to move out?”

Jefferson glanced at Finn. “Why would you
have to do that?”

Bill looked at his feet. “It’s Joe’s house.
Joe and my sister, Emma’s.” He looked at Jem. “They bought it right after they
married five years ago. I moved in when he disappeared so Emma’d have a real
home. Not my crappy apartment with no yard. If I didn’t, they would have
foreclosed.”

“You’ve been paying the mortgage?”

“And utilities and everything.”

Finn loosened his tie. “Why don’t we start
with bringing Joe home?”

Jem touched Emma’s cheek with her thumb.
The baby grabbed her hand and stuck one of Jem's fingers in her mouth. Emma
sucked Jem's finger and cooed. Drool dripped down her hand. “She’s a happy
girl. And Joe is a kind man. He’ll be reasonable.”

“You don’t think I know that? He was always
real nice to me. Treated me like a brother. But damn it, he took off and left
Emma. I had to bury my sister without him. I’ve been so angry.” He buried his
face in Emma’s soft hair and his shoulders shook. “I miss her,” he whispered.
“She never even got to see her beautiful baby girl.”

truly
wonderful

The next morning, Jem made her rounds
through the park. Joe sat cross-legged by the bush. She dropped to the grass in
front of him and watched in silence while he ate. When he finished, she filled him
in on moving in with Finn. On her fledgling practice.

“Remember, if you need a lawyer, you can
count on me. I won’t charge you anything.”

His eyes narrowed. “Why would I need that?”

Finn’s shadow filled the space between them.
Joe started and looked up.

Finn extended his hand. “Hi, Joe. I’m
Finn.”

Joe untucked his legs and scooted backwards,
but the branches of the bush prevented his escape. He put one hand on the
ground, leaned sideways and brought one foot under his rear end, then pushed
himself up.

“Joe, wait.” Jem jumped up and blocked his
path. She put her hand on his arm. “Look at me. Not at Finn, just me.”

He hesitated and cut his gaze to her.

“Do you trust me, Joe?”

He looked from her to Finn and then back to
her. One short nod.

“Okay, that’s good. We’re here to help you.
Honest, just to help. Finn too.”

He kept his eyes on her, scratched his
cheek and ran both hands down the front of his pants. He stole a quick glance
at Finn.

“There’s no easy way to tell you this.” Jem
took Joe’s hands. “It’s something shocking. And wonderful. Truly wonderful.”
She took a deep breath, her heart in her throat. “Joe, Finn is a police officer.”

His hands stiffened and he pulled back. Jem
held tight.

“It’s okay. It is. The accident wasn’t your
fault.”

He shook his head.

Finn put one hand on Joe’s shoulder. “Joe,
you couldn’t have prevented it. The Regina police shared their investigation
with me. You have no legal culpability.”

Joe squinted. “Legal?” He turned his head
and stared into the distance.

“Joe.” Jem touched his cheek. “You did nothing
wrong. That road was black ice under fresh snow. You were driving under the
limit but it wouldn’t have mattered. It was the most unfortunate series of
events.”

Tears streamed down Joe’s face.

“You did everything you could for Emma. But
nothing you could have done would have saved her.” She glanced at Finn. He
nodded. “But Joe, you don’t know everything.” She pulled a photo out from her
jacket pocket and held it out to him. “They saved the baby, Joe. They saved
her. You have a daughter.”

He spun around and stared at the photo,
squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed. When he opened them, he shook his head. His
gaze darted around the picture. He inched his arm forward and took it from her,
then brought it close to his eyes. He ran his fingers over his daughter’s face.

“H-how?”

“Caesarean section.”

“But Emma was dead.”

“Brain dead.” Jem couldn’t stop tears from
coming. “As soon as they knew they couldn’t save her, they put her on a
ventilator. Kept her heart pumping long enough to keep oxygen flowing to the
baby. Then they delivered your daughter.” She rubbed one hand up and down Joe’s
arm. “In the rush to help her, you got left in the dust. Last thing anyone told
you was that Emma died. And then you were gone. You didn’t know they were going
to do the surgery. The hospital put out a missing persons bulletin. But no one
could find you.”

He pointed to the photo. “Bill?”

“He’s been raising her. In your home.
Protecting your house and your daughter. He’s done a great job. She’s very
happy.”

His brow furrowed and he cocked his head to
one side. “You saw her?”

She looked at Finn. “We both did.
Yesterday. She’s beautiful, Joe.” She smiled. “She has your eyes.”

He looked back at the picture. “What’s her
name?”

“Emma Jean.”

He collapsed. Finn caught him before he
fell to the ground. Joe buried his face in Finn’s shoulder and sobbed, his body
quaking. Finn held him in a bear hug and let him cry while a small crowd of
park residents gathered behind them.

“Jem?”

She turned to find Angus, his hat gripped
in both hands and held to his chest. Frank stood behind him, the crease between
his eyebrows deeper than usual.

“Chief all right?”

“He’ll be fine, guys, thanks. He’s going to
go home soon. Home to his daughter.”

Tears sprung from Angus’s eyes. “That’s
good.” He wiped his cheek and waved towards Joe. “Good for you, Chief.”

Joe released his grip on Finn’s jacket
sleeve and nodded at Angus, then smiled. He stepped towards Jem and hugged her.

She put her arms around his spare frame and
squeezed. The stench of body odor and dirt stung her nostrils but she didn’t
care. Joe was coming around. And going home.

Jem waited for Joe to relax his grip then
looked him in the eye. “Joe, we’ve made an appointment for you to see a
psychiatrist. If he okays it, we’re taking you to Regina. I’ll file a motion to
reinstate your parental rights and revoke Bill’s temporary custody. If you’ve
gotten help, some form of professional counseling — that will make things go
smoother. Are you ready for all this?”

“Yes. Anything." Joe stood taller, his
shoulders back. "I want to see my daughter.”

Jem and Finn sat in Thomsons Restaurant in
the Hyatt. Jem picked at her eggs Benedict and stared out at the suits rushing
down Stephen Avenue Mall.

Almost three hours passed before Sid’s call
lit up her cell phone. They could come back for Joe.  

They arrived at the office with a takeout
container. Joe emerged from Sid’s office, his face red and eyes swollen. Sid
walked behind him with one hand on Joe’s shoulder patting in a familiar
reassuring gesture Jem had seen him offer Gerald many times.

“Jemima, can I speak to you?” Sid guided
Joe to the comfortable leather sofa in the private family room down the hall — the
sofa that welcomed the weary and guilt-laden family members of Sid’s patients.
The sofa that saw tears and angry outbursts from confused and frightened loved
ones who wanted to know why their brothers, fathers, mothers, sons were losing
their minds and when it would all be better. All be normal. The sofa that bore
witness to their utter defeat when the answer was never.

“Of course.” She set the take out
containers on the marble table in front of the sofa, and handed Joe a plastic
fork. “We brought you lunch. Lasagna and salad and iced tea.”

“Thank you. I’m starved.”

Jem and Finn followed Sid down the hall and
into his large office that doubled as a treatment room. She had always
appreciated the bright and airy space, the large windows trimmed with white
curtains, the tan leather furniture. Sid gave his patients the option of lying
on a chaise under the window or sitting in any one of three chairs that dotted
the room. He would roll his own chair to whichever spot the patient felt most
comfortable.

Gerald always took the chair in the
furthest corner from the window. On the rare occasion Jem accompanied him to
treatment on Sid’s request, she always chose the chaise.

Sid closed the door and sat behind his
oversized oak desk. Four years later and nothing had changed, except the
patient she’d brought with her. The room still smelled of lemon Pledge and that
damn desk pendulum still sat there and dared her to play with it. She pulled
back two of the chrome balls and let them drop, like Gerald did every time she
came. He would stand next to the desk and lean his elbows on it, his chin in
his hands, and watch them tick, tick, tick against one another. Like a countdown
announcing the last train to crazy town.

Sid gestured to the two chairs that sat at
forty-five-degree angles to his desk. Jem and Finn sat. Finn put one hand over
the chrome balls and stopped the ticking pendulum, then took her hand. He
didn’t need to know the countdown. His feet were firmly planted in sanity-ville.

Sid leaned his elbows on the desk. “Joe’s
better than I thought. I figured he wouldn’t want to talk, but he went on and
on with little provocation. I want to see him again, before you take him back
to Saskatchewan. Can you bring him in the morning?”

Jem nodded. “Yes, of course. The more info
we have from you the better it will make his application for removal of Bill’s
temporary custody. Will you provide a formal assessment?”

“I’ll draft it this afternoon and finish it
up tomorrow morning.” Sid tented his fingertips and leaned back in his chair.
His signature psychiatrist’s pose. “You told him about his daughter?”

Jem squirmed. “Yes, this morning.”

“It could have backfired you know.”

“I know. But Sid, I had a feeling he’d come
around. He’d thrown away everything thinking he’d killed his wife and child.
Why wouldn’t he try to get it all back if one of them lived?”

“Well it paid off. He told me the whole
accident story. As much as he remembers. When the hospital staff talked about
his wife and he heard ‘dead’ he went blank. Wandered away and never went back.
He hadn’t planned on running away from life, but couldn’t turn around. Didn’t
think he had a reason to.” Sid leaned forward. “Did you know that he and his
wife met in junior high? In the same school he teaches at now.”

Finn blew air from his mouth then pursed
his lips. “No wonder he didn’t go back. Even work would be a constant
reminder.”

Sid nodded. “Yes. But less a reminder of
his wife, and more of his guilt. It will be a while before he forgives himself.
He may never do that. But now he has a reason to go home. To go on. Good job,
Jemima.” Sid winked. “I think you’ve saved the man’s life.” 

Jem walked through The Core, the shining
mall that anchored downtown Calgary. Finn and Joe flanked her, her arms laced
through each of theirs. Most shoppers they passed eyed them with confusion,
amusement, or disdain. A god in a silk suit, a down-dressed woman in tank top and
capris who could be mistaken for a soccer mom instead of a criminal defense
attorney, and a scruffy homeless man with two-day stubble, and torn and filthy
clothes who left an acrid stench in his wake.