Bonus Scene: Chapter 20.5

 

[Would you like to have seen Michael’s and Gilles’ reunion? I couldn’t include it in the novel, for spoiler reasons and because everything else is in Amy’s point of view, but I really wanted to eavesdrop on this scene, so I wrote it. ~Janet]

 

 

The van’s turn indicator clicked as Michael drove into the parking lot of a three-star, drive-up motel. He backed into a spot against the shrubbery to hide his license plate. The plain, brown van had no distinguishing marks to identify it as his.

He sat a few minutes, watching. Light traffic continued normally on the road. Michael turned off the engine. He slipped from the van and crossed the parking lot to the unit marked 117. Feeling like a spy in a bad movie, he rapped softly on the door and stepped back to be visible through the peephole.

Before he was ready, the door swung inward. A shadowy figure hissed, “Inside. Quickly.”

As soon as Michael obeyed, the door shut behind him. The deadbolt clicked home, and the security chain rattled.

All senses alert, Michael waited for his eyes to adjust to the dim room.

A shadowed figure closed a crack in the curtains and flipped the light switch. He turned. “Michael.”

Michael choked. “Gilles.”

Gilles’ eyes narrowed. “Nathin. I told you, that name will get me killed.”

They clasped each other’s upper arms and shared a long look. Lines etched Gilles’ — Nathin’s — face. His pupils carried the faint dilation of a prescription painkiller. Everything about the man seemed faded.

But he was alive. “What’s going on? How — why — did you fake your death? And why come back now?”

Gilles dropped into one of the wooden armchairs beside the room’s tiny desk and waved Michael toward the other. “My father’s company is being used by terrorists to mask the movement of funds. When he found out, he gave in to their threats and let it go on.” Pain twisted Gilles’ face. He stopped and massaged the back of his neck. “Sorry. This is life, since the crash. The long flight here aggravated the injury.”

He took a few slow breaths before going on. “I didn’t know until I started at the Halifax dealership. I blew up at Dad, and took off to cool down.” He flashed a wry smile. “I was young. Indestructible. I could fight them and win.”

Michael nodded. “You always won.”

“Exactly. I came back, pretended to be on board. But I’d contacted the Canadian Security Intelligence Service and was working with them to gather evidence.” Gilles held out his hand. “I swear I had no idea I was bringing Amy into danger. I’d have chucked it all and stayed in Ottawa with her.”

Michael’s mind flashed an image of Gilles and Amy, carefree, laughing, swinging a little girl by the hands. The toddler looked just like her mother. The scene twisted a bitter-edged knife in his heart. It could still happen. He swallowed hard. “They’d have still known you knew.”

Gilles shrugged. “Maybe.”

“What happened at the hospital?”

“CSIS had given me a medical alert tag. When the first responders phoned it in, my contacts descended on the emergency room and arranged for me to ‘die’ on the table.”

“But your family — Amy—”

“They lost me. CSIS said it was best. I’ve been in witness protection since then, and my handler is not happy about me being here. Essentially I’ve left the program.”

“What does that mean for you?”

“I don’t know.” Gilles slid a takeout menu from the desk and rotated it in his hands. “They have my recorded statement. If I’m killed, it won’t harm their case. When Amy wouldn’t take my warnings, I had to talk to you in person.”

“But not to her.”

“Amy shows her feelings too clearly. Her happiness that I was alive, her sudden fear of the terrorists… she’d be an instant target.”

“Who would see?”

Gilles rolled the menu into a tube and tapped it against his leg. “My friend, they’re using your products, too, in the money laundering. In lower dollar amounts. The Zarins. Reza and Ross.” He cursed. “Ross is short for Rostam, a legendary hero warrior. He’s done a stint fighting over there, and now he’s here radicalizing young, disenfranchised Canadians for the cause.”

Michael’s entire body surface poised on the edge of a shiver. “Ross. He’s been taking an interest in Amy.”

“How?” The word came out like a bullet.

“Chatting in the gallery. He took her to visit the crash site. Invited her to lunch today.”

Gilles stared. He didn’t seem to notice he’d crushed the paper in his fist. “Keep him away from her.”

The knife twisted again. “Now that you’re back—”

“Michael, I am not back.” Gilles leaned forward, eyes revealing his pain, and whispered his next words. “Gilles Renaud died that day. Nathin Ayon has a new life. His concussion, the damaged neck muscles, are healing, but he’s — I’m — a different man. Believe it or not, I sell life insurance. I’m doing well with it, too.”

He swept his arm around the room. “I could afford better than this, although not as much as my predecessor. This is close to your gallery and not somewhere they’d look for me.” He stood. “If they ever start looking for me, I’m dead. Amy’s in danger, but I can’t take her back with me. They’d look for her and find us both.”

Gilles stood. “Coffee?” He took the mini carafe and filled it from the bathroom faucet.

Michael watched him dump the grounds into the filter. “Please.”

Once the water started to hiss and burble, Gilles circled the cramped room. He stopped in front of Michael. “How is Amy? And the indomitable Beatrice?”

“Fine. Amy’s healing. She still has pain in her hip if she stands too long. I don’t know what this will do to her emotionally.”

“If all goes well, she’ll never know.”

“You’d do that to her?”

“Wouldn’t it be best? She’s over me by now. I’m over her.” Gilles passed a hand over his face. “Don’t look at me like that. Death ends relationships. I think I’m falling for my physiotherapist. If she can see beyond the rehabilitation project, we may have a chance.”

The room seemed to tilt. Michael gripped the arms of his chair. “You’re not here to reclaim your fiancée.”

“Michael, she’s not a package I left in a taxi.” He poured coffee into two thick, porcelain mugs and fanned out packets of sugar and powdered whitener on the table.

Michael opted for black. “No, she’s not. Amy is a person who lost her love. Her future. Your family cut her off. So did her own father. If Aunt Bay and I hadn’t taken her in—”

The plastic stick made a faint tick-tick as Gilles stirred sugar and whitener into his drink. “I didn’t script any of this. We had no warning. But come on, ami, you’re the winner here.”

“I’ve had to watch this beautiful soul suffer through abandonment and physical therapy while she grieved, knowing my best help couldn’t touch her deepest hurts. You know how I feel about her. How is this winning?” Michael’s hand jerked, and coffee splashed the table. He grabbed the stack of napkins and blotted the mess.

“I don’t understand.” Gilles dropped back into the opposite chair. Ignoring his coffee, he picked up the crumpled menu and began twisting it. He raised his eyes to Michael’s. “My friend… my very best friend… the minute I saw you and Amy in the same room, I knew you were perfect for each other. In my selfishness, I kept you apart. Cut my truest friend out of my life to keep a treasure who shouldn’t have been mine. When you acted honourably and withdrew, I was relieved. Can you forgive me?”

“I would have done the same thing. There’s nothing to forgive.” Michael risked a sip of coffee. The bitterness curled his tongue. “Plenty of girls dropped me for you, but you’re wrong to think Amy would be like that. I’m hardly a better prize.”

A flash of the old arrogance crossed Gilles’ face. “Not better. A perfect match.” His lips twisted. “Amy’s loyalty is also a match for yours. I saw how it would play out. She’d fight it each step of the way. You’d both deny it and live in misery to give me a hollow victory. When my own love faded, you’d feel too guilty to get together. It would make a terrible novel. But now—”

Gilles saluted Michael with his mug. “She’s working with you every day. How are you not yet a couple?”

Michael’s world was still off-kilter. “You really believe this.”

“I do.”

“I had hoped… not that I took her in for this… but I’d hoped she could love me.” He sighed. “Every time I move in that direction, she shuts me down.”

A grin played on Gilles’ lips. “Perhaps you’re making the wrong moves. If we live through this, I’ll give you some pointers.”

“If we live. You must have a plan, or you wouldn’t have contacted me.”

“I wanted to warn you. My CSIS contacts would have let you be collateral damage to catch the bigger prize. Now I can tell them you’re definitely in the Zarins’ sights. They can work with local law enforcement, and hopefully give you protection. Tell me everything suspicious that’s happened.”

Half-way through Michael’s recap, a door banged in the next room. He nearly jumped out of his chair. “Sorry. You were always the adventurous one. I just read about things like this.”

Gilles took notes, and at the end asked for Michael’s cell number. “If you hadn’t changed it, this would have been much easier. I received a very startled reply when I tried to text you. Give me Aunt Bay’s, too, if she has one.”

“Why?” Michael gave him the numbers.

“I might need a second opinion about Amy’s feelings. Once the dust settles. Or I may just ask her myself. By text, of course. A dead lover showing up to ask about her next one might not go over too well.”

Michael snorted. “I’m glad you’re still crazy.”

“Like a coyote. You want to get Chinese takeout, for old times’ sake, or do you need to get back?”

“I can’t go home until I get my head around this.”

 

~~~

 

[Thanks for reading. The next pages have notes, acknowledgements, and discussion questions, for those so inclined.]