Gail Bowen - The Nesting Dolls

“The child is related to you, then,” Zack said.

“The child’s mother is my daughter,” Delia said tightly. “And that’s as much as I can say tonight.”

Zack didn’t push it. “All right,” he said. “Tomorrow, we’ll see what can be done about getting the little boy.”

“The child is a boy.” Delia’s voice was a whisper.

“Yes,” Zack said. “And he looks just like Izzy did when she was a baby.”

“Beautiful,” Delia said.

“Very handsome,” Zack agreed. “Dee, you do realize that you’re going to have to tell the police everything. Inspector Debbie Haczkewicz is the officer I spoke to tonight. She’s reasonable, but I have a feeling this is going to be a long haul. You’ll want Debbie on your side, and if she finds out you’ve held back anything pertinent, she won’t be.”

“I’ll be cooperative, but before I sit down with the Inspector, I have to talk to Noah and Isobel. And I’m going to need a lawyer. I know you hate family law, but if I’m going to be spending months dealing with this, I don’t want to be stuck with a lawyer I don’t know.”

Zack shook his head. “Come on, Dee. You know the argument. A lawyer is supposed to give objective and dispassionate advice. That’s impossible when people are as close as we are. You need someone from another firm.”

“I don’t want someone from another firm. The legal community here is tight, and not all lawyers are as discreet as you are. The last thing I need is every lawyer in town obsessing over my private life. If you won’t take my case, I’ll handle it myself, and you know what they say about lawyers who represent themselves.”

Delia’s tone made it clear that she was not to be dissuaded. Zack didn’t even try. “Okay,” he said. “I’m in. Give me a call when you’re ready to talk.”

Delia reached forward and squeezed Zack’s shoulder. “Thanks.” She climbed out of the car, slammed the door shut, and started trudging up the path. The snow swirled around the bears Noah had carved, softening the lines of their heavy bodies. As Delia passed them, Zack said, “She looks so small.”

“Delia will be all right,” I said. “She’s one of the most capable people I know, and she has Noah. If the situation gets ugly, Papa Bear will step in.”

As we turned the corner onto our street, the power came back on. The old safe world had returned. Even better, our neighbour Frank van Valzer had cleared our driveway with his snow blower.

Zack cheered. “Saved by the head lamp on the Toro Power Max 828.”

“So you and Frank have been talking snow blowers,” I said.

“It’s a guy thing. Frank talks; I listen.”

“That’s pretty much the arrangement I have with Frank’s wife. She tells me all I need are geraniums, and I keep planting perennials.”

Zack drove into our garage and pulled the key out of the ignition. “Good to be home, eh?”

“Is it ever,” Taylor said. “Does anybody have a clue about what’s going on?”

“Why don’t we make some tea and tell you what we know,” Zack said.

Five minutes later, we were sitting at our kitchen table, waiting as the tea steeped. My old bouvier, Willie, was sprawled beside me; Pantera was in his customary place beside Zack’s wheelchair, and Taylor’s cats, Bruce and Benny, were curled up in their bed near the stove.

Zack poured the first cup and handed it to Taylor. “Okay, time for questions. Fire away.”

Taylor met his gaze. “Is that woman who gave Isobel the baby her sister?”

“My guess is she is Isobel’s half-sister,” Zack said.

Taylor picked up Benny and began stroking him. Benny shot a triumphant look at Bruce and began to purr. “The woman and Isobel have different fathers,” Taylor said. Her dark eyes darted from Zack to me. “Isobel always says her mother never makes mistakes. I guess she was wrong.”

I slept fitfully. The baby’s scent had clung to the material of the dress I’d been wearing, and when I hung it up, I remembered the weight of him in my arms, and the sharp and unexpected pain I’d felt when he’d been taken from me in the dark. Twice in the night I awoke, stabbed by a sense of loss, and lay in the dark, remembering, and listening to Zack’s breathing. The next morning I awoke to the phantasmagoric landscape of a city after a blizzard. The storm was over, but powerful winds were lifting the snow that had accumulated overnight and whirling it into the air. The effect was vertiginous, like being suspended upside down in a snow globe. I pressed my forehead against the glass doors that looked out on the bank of Wascana Creek. The levee where the dogs and I usually began our morning run was barely visible. Seeing that I was in motion, Willie and Pantera sprang into action and ran up the hall towards the hooks where their leashes hung.

I listened to the click of their nails on the hardwood, then went to the closet where I kept the heavy sweater, jacket, and snow pants that I used for winter running. When I was dressed, I turned and was met by Zack’s glare.

“You’re not going out in this.”

“The dogs are already at the door.”

“One of the reasons we bought this house is because it has a double lot – plenty of room for them to chase each other.”

“The dogs and I have an arrangement. I take them for a run, and they leave me alone for the rest of the morning.”

“So I should stick a sock in it?”

“Pretty much,” I said. I kissed him. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Carry your phone,” he said.

My run was miserable. The wind whipping off the creek froze my hair and the icy strands snapped at my face as I ran. Blowing snow made it impossible to distinguish between the path and the creek bank, and when I stumbled over a rock I hadn’t seen, only Willie’s broad back kept me from falling flat. It was time to admit defeat.

“Okay, boys,” I said. “We’re heading home.” Willie and Pantera didn’t balk. When we got back, Zack was still in bed, thumbing his BlackBerry. I’d left my parka, snow pants, and boots in the mudroom, but my hair was still frozen; my face was scarlet and chapped and my nose was running. Zack winced when he saw me. “You look like you could use a friend.”

“Thanks for not saying ‘I told you so.’ ”

“Get out of those wet clothes and come in here with me where it’s warm.”

“Said the Wolf to Little Red Riding Hood.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Little Red.”

I stripped off my clothing and slid in. Zack leaned over and touched the button on the sound system beside the bed. Suddenly the room was filled Kiz Harp’s soulful, smoky voice singing “Winter Warm” – a paean to making love while the winds whip.

“You planned this,” I said.

Zack’s smile was wicked. “You’re a clever one, Little Red. I was planning to greet you in my smoking jacket, but you got back early.”

“You don’t own a smoking jacket.”

“Then you must take me as I am,” he said. And I did.

When we were through making love, Zack kissed the top of my head. “Better now?” he asked. “You were so sad last night.”

“Just tired and worried,” I said. “But I am once again ready to lick my weight in wild cats.”

Zack gazed out the window. “You may be off the hook. Not a wild cat in sight. That’s one lousy day out there.”

I burrowed deeper. “Then let’s stay in here.”

“Fine with me. We can get started on Sir Gawain.”

Zack was a skilful reader. Whenever our granddaughters, Madeleine and Lena, were with us overnight, he was always the storyteller of choice. He had an actor’s voice, rich and sonorous, and he had an actor’s ability to take his listeners to the heart of the tale.