Authors: James W. Nichol

Transgression (33 page)

BOOK: Transgression

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“Adele, I can’t go over this again.”

“You’re afraid I’ll go to jail.”

“I know you’ll go to jail.”

“And you, as well? You will go to jail?”

“I don’t care about myself.” And he didn’t. She knew he didn’t.

“You don’t know what will happen,” Adele said.

“Lets talk about the stars. Or go back inside.”

“I know one thing. Some one thing everyone knows.” She knew Alex wouldn’t be able to resist the bait.

“What’s that?”

“About whether we go to jail or not. It would be better to tell the truth now than after we’re caught.”

Alex just sat there. He didn’t answer.

That night Adele had a dream. She was walking along a beach but it wasn’t the beach by the lake, it was much wider and smoother and seemed to stretch out forever, sand and water and a far far distant sky. There was someone standing in the surf. As she came closer she could see that it was Étienne. Foam encircled his thin bare legs, it splashed against his leather breeches.

“What are you doing?” Adele asked.

He had the same patchy hair, the same yellowish skin, the same eyes of undiminished light.

“I’m looking for my family,” he said.

Alex got up early the next morning while Adele was still sleeping, and sat in the dunes at the same place where he’d seen Jack the morning before. He half-expected to see him coming along again. He half-expected to see a phalanx of Ontario Provincial Police, too. He knew they’d been in town investigating for the last week, but no one armed with guns came by.

Adele and Alex stayed inside the cottage all that day. She didn’t say anything more to Alex because she knew she didn’t have to.

They went to bed early that night and although they hadn’t made love for a long time, since before that day on the river, they made love that night,
and they whispered “I love you” and Adele felt a weight of happiness she thought she’d lost fill her heart.

“What about your plans?” Alex said.

They were lying in each other’s arms, their faces close together.

“What plans?”

“Nurses’ assistant.”

“Oh?” Adele said.

“Your hopes for the future and all that.”

“It’s all right.”

Adele knew what they would do the next day. She knew exactly what Alex would decide. He’d call Ray and Ray would drive to the lake and take them back home. They would find the chief of police and they would tell him the truth.

And she would be who she was. And her history would be what it was. And she would never have to lie or hide again.

Brantford Expositor—November 24, 1946

The jury trial of Adele Wells (nee Georges), charged with manslaughter in the wrongful death of John Watson, and of her husband Alex Wells, charged with being an accessory after the fact, came to its end today in the county courthouse.

Prior to today’s sentencing the jury, citing the right to self-defense and other mitigating circumstances, had found both defendants not guilty of the two serious charges against them, but both guilty on the lesser charges of committing an indignity to a dead body and of obstructing justice.

Today Chief Justice William Hastings, who had presided over the five-week trial, handed down a jail sentence of sixty days to both defendants. Mrs. Wells will be serving her time in the Brantford jail. Alex Wells will be incarcerated in Hamilton.

Despite a country-wide search, Manfred Halder, the illegal German refugee who was at the centre of this affair, has never been located.

Adele said she liked the prairies best, Alex voted for the mountains but by the time they’d reached the west coast of Vancouver Island, they knew they had finally arrived at the right place.

Alex found a job by the end of the first week refitting and repairing ocean-going pleasure craft at the local marina. Adele busied herself organizing their new home. She would have to wait for a while to look for work. In November, in the midst of the trial, Dr. Jerrison had confirmed what she’d already known. She was pregnant.

The child arrived on a windy April morning three weeks earlier than expected. Alex was already at work. Adele called to tell him that he’d better hurry back to take her into the hospital. She lay down on the bed to wait.

The baby pressed against her, becoming more insistent. Adele smiled to herself. She could hear the sounds of the surf from their modest clapboard house, she could imagine the long lines of waves sweeping in. Sweeping in.

And Étienne.

He was staring at her house. He was splashing toward her through the water.

A
CKNOWLEDGEMENTS

In my background research for this novel, I would like to acknowledge two books of history that I found particularly helpful:
The Guns Of Normandy
by George G. Blackburn and
Occupation
by Ian Ousby.

This novel, quite literally, would not have been written without my wife Judi’s continued tolerance of my being locked away in my writing room and for her remarkable insights into the heart of the story.

I have to acknowledge the influence that my artist father Robert had on the roots of this story. I remember very well his illustrations for War Bonds and other paintings and drawings he did during the war and they must have buried themselves deep in my child’s psyche, along with all the other influences and memories that go with being a child in a small Canadian town during and just after the Second World War. Mysterious and inexplicable influences seem to reach over the generations. After finishing
Transgression
I learned that my soldier grandfather, who had been gassed in France during the First World War, was sent to a hospital in Rouen-which just happens to be the city I randomly chose to set the first half of this story in.

I’d like to thank my Canadian editor Wendy Thomas for her very helpful notes, and also my German editor Stefanie Hess and my translator Silvia Visintini for their insightful notes prior to the German publication of this novel.

I would also like to thank my first outside reader, Ted Boniface for his enthusiasm, incisive comments and encouragement. Thanks to Jessica Scott of McArthur & Company for all her timely and gracious help in shepherding the book through to its final completion and thanks to Jeff and Manijeh at ASAP Design for their willingness to consult with the author and for their stunning design.

And as always, I am grateful to my agent Beverley Slopen, who continues to inspire, cajole, and keep me on track.

About the Author

JAMES W. NICHOL
is the author of
Midnight Cab,
which was short-listed for the UK’s prestigious Gold Dagger Award and which won the Arthur Ellis Award for Best First Novel. He lives in Stratford, Ontario.

Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins author.

Credits

Cover design by Robin Bilardello

Cover photograph by Evans/Getty Images

Copyright

This book is a work of fiction. References to real people, events, establishments, organizations, or locales are intended only to provide a sense of authenticity, and are used fictitiously. All other characters, and all incidents and dialogue, are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real.

TRANSGRESSION
. Copyright © 2008 by James W. Nichol. All rights reserved. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.

Adobe Digital Edition August 2009 ISBN 978-0-06-195999-8

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