CHAPTER 19
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VIVIAN IS FLIPPING through papers and photographs she discovered in a locked filing cabinet. The house is quiet; Todd is out and his conspirator is doing the laundry. She still doesn’t fold things properly though Vivian has explained it numerous times.
It scares her, how little some of these words and pictures mean to her, but as she digs deeper through the albums of photos, press clippings and notes, some things pop out of the darkness inside her head like fireworks. There she is as a child, four or five, sitting on a swing with Mother behind, both of them smiling. She remembers that day quite clearly, a rare occasion when Father was home. He was the one taking the photograph.
The people glued down on the next page are a mystery. She must’ve known them at one time. Two boys and a German Shepherd, all three of them struggling to stay still; blurry paws and hands. Vivian and the same two boys playing in a park somewhere. Were they cousins, perhaps? Family friends? Does it matter that she has forgotten them entirely?
She picks up another album. Photos, much more recent. She’s an adult. Todd is with her. More people she doesn’t recognize. She flips through the pages and a newspaper clipping slips out, yellowed with age. The Stapleton Herald. It’s about a tragedy at a river. Two names that are so familiar yet still a mystery. She folds the paper carefully and puts it in her cardigan pocket. She will ask Todd about this one. He will remember.
Vivian puts the memories away and decides it’s time to go out. She has things to do. She must have; she can’t just sit around the house all day. The conspirator is still in the laundry room making a pig’s ear out of it. Vivian doesn’t bother disturbing her. She slips out of the front door and heads toward the gas station.
Rhonda gawks like a fish. “Vivian! It’s minus 15 out! Where’s your jacket?”
“I’m not cold.”
Her teeth chatter and her limbs shiver. Perhaps she is a little cold. She hadn’t noticed.
“I’m calling Todd.”
“Don’t! Please! I’m fine.”
Rhonda slips into the back. A moment later she returns with a giant puffy jacket. It’s grotesque, but Vivian allows her to pull it around her shoulders and guide her to a table. Rhonda pours her a cup of something hot and sets it down in front of her. “That’ll warm you up.”
Vivian looks around for her purse. It isn’t on the back of her chair, or the floor. She’s lost it. It’s gone.
“Where’s my purse?”
“You didn’t bring it.”
“I did ...”
“You didn’t. I would’ve seen it. Sit down. The coffee’s on me. You should eat something, too. How about ...”
Rhonda turns around and inspects the plastic-wrapped baked goods displayed in a wicker basket.
“... a chocolate muffin?”
Vivian doesn’t fully register the question. She isn’t sure how she got here.
“But the banana bread is fresher,” Rhonda mutters.
She puts a piece on a paper plate and leaves it in front of Vivian, who picks at it slowly. “It tastes like dough,” she announces after a few bites.
Vivian finishes the sticky bread and looks around for a napkin. Rhonda is back at the counter, on the phone. She can’t believe it. Rhonda is betraying her. Rhonda, of all people. At any moment they’ll be here to take her away, the people who keep her trapped in her own house. There’s nothing she can do about it; no one she can trust.
The doorbell jangles. Someone who looks like Frank—does he have a brother she doesn’t know about?—approaches the counter. Rhonda finishes her call and takes money for the gas. He spots Vivian as he’s about to leave. He smiles and comes over.
“Hi Vivian.”
“Hi Frank.”
He hesitates. “I was going to have a coffee. Mind if I join you?”
She gestures for him to sit.
“It’s a cold one today.”
He’s right. She hugs the puffy jacket. He ruffles one hand through his hair. There’s something strangely handsome about him. Frank isn’t usually so well put-together.
“You dropped something,” he says politely and he reaches down to pick up a scrap of yellowed paper from the floor. He opens it up and he sees the tragedy in heavy black print. Vivian snatches it away and crumples it in her hand. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t want him to see it because she doesn’t remember what it’s about, but it feels as though he’s reading something very private, like a page from a diary. He inflicts what feels like judgment upon her with a long stare, sips his coffee and changes the subject.
“Giulia’s doing a fantastic job of keeping the Inn going.”
“Giulia?”
“Yeah. Giulia Reid.”
Vivian shakes her head. “You never should’ve taken her in, Frank. I thought you got rid of her. Why did you take her back?”
“What do you mean?”
“You know.”
Frank stares at her, but it’s not Frank, is it? Vivian holds her breath. Who is this man sitting at her table trying to read her secrets?
“Do you think she’s dangerous because of what her husband did?”
“Who are you?”
“I’m ...”
“You’re not Frank. Frank knows exactly what happened.”
“I’m Frank’s son. Dean.”
Vivian is instantly embarrassed. She wants to get out of there, but where would she go? Everywhere is cloudy now. It has all become so difficult to separate and understand.
“I’m sorry if I upset you, Vivian. I didn’t mean to confuse you.”
“About what?”
Dean smiles and gulps his coffee. Young people carry their drinks around everywhere with them nowadays. It’s time he left.
“Did everyone believe what the papers said about Curtis Reid?”
She doesn’t want to hear these names. They hurt her and he knows it, doesn’t he? That’s why he’s here. To make her angry. She can’t see them completely; their faces, the people they were. She doesn’t want to remember them.
“There must have been a few locals, people who knew him, who didn’t think Curtis was capable of blowing up the mill.”
“Why are you asking me?”
“No reason, except that you seem to know a lot about the town.”
“Are you a writer?”
“No. I’m a businessman.”
“Then why do you care?”
“I’m interested in the truth.”
“Is it her? Is that woman you keep at the Inn telling you lies about her precious husband?”
“Giulia?”
“Yes ... Giulia.” She hates that name. “I know there’s something else going on here, Vivian, and I know you’re at the centre of it.”
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
“My dad, Frank, felt so guilty about something in his past, he didn’t want me to know he was my dad. I think you know what he was feeling guilty about. Was he involved?”
“Involved in what?”
“Mary said you were the piece of the puzzle that connected all the dots, and if I could crack you ... but you’re already cracking, aren’t you, Vivian?”
“Enough.” Todd’s voice, right behind them. He seems bigger than usual, which pleases Vivian for some reason. “The people in this town are old and lonely and they want something to gossip about. My wife is sick. Don’t bother her anymore.”
Todd helps her up, removes the baggy jacket and puts his own coat around her, carefully doing up the zip. This time she doesn’t feel like a child. He’s rescuing her from something. Todd thanks Rhonda as they leave and he gently folds Vivian into their car. She rests her hand on his knee as he drives them home.