Chapter Nineteen
It was Wednesday evening and Iris was with Julian. But, sadly, not alone in her apartment exploring the new physical and emotional intimacies of their developing relationship. Instead they were in her car, on their way to Miranda and Luke’s house.
She was driving, both hands on the wheel as always, but Julian’s hand rested on her leg. They were both silent. She’d been unusually silent with her family as well, these past couple of days, anxious not to inadvertently reveal Julian’s secret.
On Monday, Julian had filed a report at the island’s tiny Royal Canadian Mounted Police detachment. The male officer had been professional, but Julian said it was obvious he was skeptical. He’d said he would investigate the report—and he did talk to Forbes, Sonia, and Luke. This morning, the officer had phoned Julian and said that so far they’d found nothing to support his allegations, but they would continue to investigate.
Iris had suggested getting a lawyer’s opinion, and Eden had agreed to stop by the condo on her way home from work today. She’d done her best to assist but, sadly, had no miraculous solution to offer.
After she left, Iris had set out a light dinner, but neither she nor Julian had done more than pick at the food. She knew he was frustrated and pissed off, and so was she.
The village, as they drove through, was postcard picturesque on this crisp, clear evening, but she wondered if she’d ever view Blue Moon Harbor in the same way. Despite island gossip and the occasional feud, she’d believed her home was a safe, warm, wonderful place. Now, the sight of Destiny Realty with its festive cedar boughs and holly put a sour taste in her mouth.
She averted her eyes, to refocus them a few doors down, on the display in Dreamspinner’s window. Mr. and Mrs. Claus sat in rocking chairs reading to several elves, while a couple of reindeer eavesdropped.
It was the holiday season, a time for optimism and hope. Iris refused to believe that Julian’s courage would be for naught. She would, as the December quotation said, keep her mind even, and she’d keep her spirit strong. “It’s only the first skirmish,” she said. “In the end, he will not prevail. You have a whole team on your side. We’ll come up with a strategic plan.” That was the purpose of tonight’s get-together.
Julian squeezed her leg. “You’re right. I refuse to let him win.”
A few minutes later, as she drove down Tsehum Drive, she gestured toward Luke and Miranda’s house. “We did a great job on Sunday.”
The waterfront home was an architect’s dream, in the very best way. All wood, huge windows, and unusual angles, it blended with its environment and was designed for energy efficiency. Now, the various angles of roof-lines and windows were strung with multicolored lights, and white fairy lights sparkled in a couple of trees in the front yard.
“All it needs is snow,” Julian said, “to really look like Christmas. Not that it’s likely to happen.”
“We’ve had a couple of years of unusual snowfalls. I wouldn’t bet against it happening again.” It was nice to talk about something as normal and mundane as the weather.
When she’d parked, Julian touched her shoulder. “Thanks, Iris. For everything.”
She leaned toward him and their lips met in a tender, lingering kiss. They separated only when headlights flashed behind them, another car pulling up to the curb.
She and Julian climbed out of her Chevy Volt, to see that the new arrivals were Sonia and Forbes. Julian went to pull his dad’s walker from the trunk. Though Forbes was okay on crutches in the house, it was still safest for him to use a walker outside.
As Julian helped his dad get out of the passenger seat, Sonia linked her arm with Iris’s. Previously, their relationship had been one of bookseller and customer, but that had relaxed on Sunday amid the happy chaos of setting up Christmas decorations with the “assistance” of three kids and two dogs. Their affection for, and support of, Julian also bonded them.
Luke greeted them at the door, and there was the usual flurry of discarding boots and shoes by the door and getting coats hung in the closet. He led them through the house to the living room on the ocean side. The curtains were drawn across the view windows, and the big Douglas fir they’d erected and decorated on Sunday dominated one corner, but the room was large enough to still feel spacious.
A wood fire burned in the stunning, rough-stone fireplace. Plates of sliced Christmas cake and brownies sat on a round wooden coffee table. “Miranda’s upstairs getting the kids settled,” Luke said, “and the dogs are shut in the family room. Coffee’s brewing and the kettle’s on. What would everyone like?”
They all made their requests, and Iris went to the kitchen to help Luke. In a few minutes Miranda joined them, giving Iris a warm hug. “How’re you holding up?”
“I’m not the one to worry about.”
“Sure, you are. This is stressful stuff. But we’re a bunch of smart people and we’ll figure it out.”
On that reassuring note, they took the drinks into the front room where the others were talking rather stiltedly about the village’s Christmas festivities. Julian sat on a two-seater sofa and when Iris slipped into the seat beside him, he clasped her hand. Forbes and Sonia occupied the couch, and Luke, after adding more wood to the fire, took one of the chairs. Miranda curled up on the floor, leaning against his legs.
It all seemed so cozy and festive with the scent of fir in the air and the pretty lights and decorations on the tree. This should have been a relaxed social evening.
“Okay,” Julian said, “I’m going to dive in. The cop says the RCMP take all allegations of sexual abuse very seriously, and they’ll keep investigating, but so far they’ve found no evidence, not even a rumor, that Jelinek abused me or any other kid.”
Iris took a sip of jasmine tea, the flowery scent a soothing contrast to the painful grip of Julian’s fingers.
“Bottom line,” he said grimly, “it’s like Jelinek said all those years ago: it’s my word against his. And he’s the one with credibility.”
Silence, a heavy silence, filled the room.
“Iris thought it would be a good idea to get Eden’s opinion,” he went on, “and we talked to her today. At first, she wasn’t sure whether to believe me.”
“That,” Sonia said, “is because she doesn’t know and love you the way we all do.”
Iris’s heart jolted at Sonia’s phrasing, though the other woman didn’t seem aware of what she’d said. But it was true. Iris did love Julian, as a friend and lover and . . . Well, that was all she’d allow herself. There was no point yearning for the impossible.
“To clarify,” Julian said, “Eden said she knew that I believed it had happened, but she raised the issue of false memories.”
Iris remembered exactly how Julian had responded. He’d leaned forward, his gaze locked on Eden’s face, and said, “Don’t you understand? All I’ve done, all these years, is try to forget!” He’d rubbed his hand across his forehead. “I remember how he’d always take off his horn-rims before he . . .” He swallowed. “I remember the expression in his pale gray eyes, like a predator.” He paused. “I remember the disgusting mole on the inside of his right thigh. Tell me that’s a false memory.”
He’d continued, raking up memories as Iris, one hand interlocked with his, had trembled and tried to steady her breathing—to stay even—so she could support Julian. She hated that he had to relive these horrible things.
Now he told his family, “I gave her enough specifics to satisfy her. Then she mentioned something that Jelinek said one day. Right, Iris?”
“Yes. Remember, Miranda, when we had lunch at C-Shell?”
“Yeah, the asshole said Julian had always been unstable, erratic, and imaginative.”
“Eden figures he was trying to undermine Julian’s credibility,” Iris said. “In case he ever did speak up.”
“I’m glad she had the sense to believe you, Son,” Forbes said. “But did she offer any practical advice?”
“Well,” Julian said, “she said it’s not her field of expertise and she could find me an expert to consult. But she did say that a criminal charge isn’t the only route. I could bring a civil suit for sexual assault. The burden of proof is lower, and it forces the accused to testify. But I’d have to hire a lawyer and sue for damages.”
“Damages?” Miranda asked.
“Things that can be monetarily quantified,” Iris said. “Eden mentioned medical expenses, lost income, pain and suffering.”
“But that’s not what this is about, for me,” Julian said. “It’s about stopping him. Besides, it’s not like money could compensate for what he did. As for lost income, what the hell, maybe the angst made me a better songwriter and gave me more income-earning potential.”
“I know,” Iris said. “But according to Eden, if you want to sue and get a judgment against him, which means a public record that he’s an abuser, you have to claim damages and quantify them in dollars.”
“You can sue for a dollar, right?” Miranda said. “Like Taylor Swift did, against the jerk who groped her and then sued her when he lost his job.”
“That’s an idea,” Julian said.
Forbes, who’d been silent until now, said, “I have another idea.”
When Iris turned to the ponytailed man, she saw a gleam in his eye, the kind of fire that she guessed he’d only rarely displayed since his horrendous accident.
“There’s an advantage to having an old hippie in the room,” he said, rubbing his hands together and looking almost gleeful. “We didn’t have a lot of respect for the law back in my day, and we found ways of being effective. Civil disobedience, protests, sit-ins.”
“Uh, okay, Forbes,” Julian said, a hint of lightness in his voice for the first time since they’d all sat down. “You’re suggesting I stage a sit-in or protest at Island Realty?”
“We could all do it,” his father said. “Picket outside the door with signs saying ‘Stop the Pedophile.’”
“Much as I love that idea,” Sonia said, “we’d be arrested within ten minutes. Besides, most of the islanders would think we were crazy. Yes, it would stir up gossip, but they’d take Jelinek’s side and nothing would come of it.”
Forbes gave a wicked grin that took ten years off his age. “Not if the media’s there. It’s a classic strategy. Try it in the media rather than in the courts.”
Iris winced. The media? Wasn’t that the last thing Julian would want, having his painful story dragged into the public eye?
“Could we do the media thing,” Sonia asked, “and skip the being arrested part?”
“Spoilsport,” grumbled her husband. “Getting dragged off to jail is the fun part.”
“Remind me why I ever married you,” she joked.
He pulled her into a hug. “Later, babe.”
“Count me in,” Miranda declared.
Iris turned to Julian, her eyes wide with an unspoken question. Could he imagine doing what they were suggesting?
“I appreciate the thought,” he said slowly. He squeezed her hand and then released it, stood, and walked across the room to stand in front of the fireplace, facing them. “But you’re members of this community, with businesses and jobs here, friends here. If you stand up against one of the island’s most respected leaders, it could hurt you.”
“That’s the point,” Forbes countered. “Jelinek’s relying on his reputation in the community for his credibility. Well, if you put all of us together, the people in this room, we have a hell of a lot of credibility ourselves.”
“No, you—” Julian started, but Luke’s voice overrode his.
“That’s the key,” Luke said. “Together. Yes, we each have something to lose, but stopping Jelinek is more important than any personal cost.”
“And if we stick together,” Sonia said, “there’ll be . . . well, not exactly safety in numbers because there’ll still be risk for each of us. But it’ll be less risk than if one or two people do it. And far more impact.”
“No,” Julian said again, his voice louder this time. He waited until everyone else was silent, looking at him. “Thanks, all of you, but no. I’m not going to let you risk your livelihoods, your reputations, your friendships on this island.”
“It’s not up to you, Son,” Forbes said. “This is bigger than just you.”
“Yes, but it’s my responsibility. So, let’s talk about what I can do. I have a bunch of media connections.” He drew a ragged breath. “I can set up an interview somewhere high profile. CBC Radio. Tell the fucking story, for all the world to hear.” The painful rasp in his voice indicated how difficult that would be for him.
Iris shuddered. “You shouldn’t have to do that. There must be some other way.”
Sonia cleared her throat and said quietly, regretfully, “It seems to me that whatever happens, unless Jelinek actually confesses, which he shows no signs of doing, Julian is going to have to tell his story and it will become public knowledge.”
“No, surely not,” Iris protested. “Isn’t there a way of revealing the truth about Jelinek without . . .” She trailed off, seeing Sonia bite her lip.
“Think about it,” Julian’s stepmother said. “A civil or criminal trial would likely end up in court, with Julian on the witness stand. Testifying as to every horrible detail. Being cross-examined by Jelinek’s lawyer, who’d try to rip him to shreds. And all that testimony would become public knowledge.”
“Fuck,” Julian said. He looked so alone, standing by the fireplace.
Iris never swore, but just this once she felt like echoing his sentiment. Or throwing up. She put her tea mug on the side table and wrapped her arms around her roiling stomach.
“But if Julian does what he just proposed,” Sonia said, “one significant interview, then he can control the details he reveals.”
“Other media and social media will jump on it,” Forbes said with satisfaction. “It’ll spread like wildfire. A prominent musician like you, Son.”
Iris felt a strong urge to bolt, to run down the hall to the bathroom and hug the toilet, but purging the nausea in her stomach wouldn’t clear the images of a media frenzy from her brain. She also remembered something else Eden had said, a consideration Julian hadn’t yet mentioned.
“What if he sues you, Julian?” she asked. “Eden said your defense is that it’s the truth, but that brings the whole thing back to it being your word against his. You might lose.”
“I don’t care,” Julian said. “As long as people are warned about him.”
“Julian,” Sonia said, “if you do an interview, be sure to address any other victims who might be out there. If they’re willing to go to the police, then it’s more likely that charges will be laid against Jelinek.”
“Okay, this is all good,” Forbes said. “But we need to do something else, too.”
More? When Iris had suggested talking to Eden, she’d hoped for some formal, legal solution. Now she was hearing a cascading snowball of publicity-oriented strategies. Her fragile emotions felt battered and pummeled, and she wished she could cling to Julian’s hand, but he was all the way across the room. Standing alone, and yet the core of this circle of brainstorming support.
“What are you thinking of, Forbes?” Luke asked.
“Something to show we all support Julian.” The older man winked. “Since no one else wants to picket.”
“What about a dinner at C-Shell?” Miranda said. “After Julian’s interview. All of us dining together at the island’s best restaurant at Christmastime. It’s more subtle than a picket line and it won’t get us arrested”—she grinned at Forbes, her future father-in-law—“and because it’s so respectable, it would get the message across.”
“You’re a good strategist,” Forbes said. “We could have used you, back in the day.”
“No, it’s not a good idea,” Julian said. “You’re going to suffer consequences after the interview, just by being associated with me. I don’t want to drag you in any deeper than that. This is my battle.”
Forbes began to struggle to his feet and Sonia rose with him, putting her arm around his waist to support him as they walked over to Julian. Forbes in turn put his arm around his son’s shoulders. “Our battle. We weren’t there for you when you were a kid, but we’re here now.”
“Me too,” Luke said, and Miranda chimed in with, “That bastard needs to be put away.”
Which left Iris. These people had all, to varying degrees, become her friends. The notion should have given her a warm sense of security. Instead, she felt terrified. But this was the right thing to do and she must find the strength to do it. She tried to force down the panic and nausea that threatened to swamp her. Breathe, center yourself, stay even. “Yes,” she choked out.
She’d have to tell her family, the family that believed in living a principled life but also believed in blending in, not making waves. Going up against one of the most powerful, respected men on the island wasn’t just a wave, it was more like a tsunami. “I’ll be at that dinner, too.”
* * *
Julian could only guess what that gesture had cost Iris. She was so pale, her face looked like a white mask. This was too much for her. He shouldn’t have asked her to come, but, selfishly, he’d wanted her—no, maybe needed her—at his side. And he hadn’t wanted to shut her out of his life, though on reflection that would have been more considerate.
He smiled at her, trying to convey his apology and thanks. “Iris and I should go now.” He came over to her and held out his hand. “I’ve taken up enough of everyone’s time and I think the two of us could use some peace and quiet.”
Peace and quiet. Once he spoke to the media, that’d be the end of any peace in his life.
Iris’s hand, when she put it in his, was icy and trembling. He helped her to her feet, and the perennially graceful woman stumbled. As Sonia’d done with Forbes, Julian put his arm around her, steadying her—and himself as well.
“Thanks, everyone,” he said. “It’s such a small word in the face of what you’re doing for me, but I don’t know any other way to say it. Guess the next thing I need to do is tell my bandmates. And our label. Before the shit hits the fan. God knows how this’ll affect our careers.”
“They say there’s no such thing as bad publicity,” Forbes said, sounding unconvinced.
“Yeah, well.” There’d been lots of examples where that wasn’t true. “I’ll let you know when I set up the interview.”
He sighed, feeling almost as shattered as he had back when Jelinek was abusing him. In exposing the pedophile, he’d be exposing himself as well. Some people would say he was lying or his memories were false. Those who believed him would stop seeing him as a semi-successful musician, and instead as a battered, bleeding, emasculated kid. A coward who’d not only allowed himself to be abused, over and over, but had hid the truth, facilitating the abuse of other boys. And he deserved it. All of it.
What he didn’t deserve, but treasured immeasurably, were the hugs and pats on the back that followed him and Iris to Luke’s front door.
Outside, the night was clear, Luke’s yard and several neighbors’ creating a holiday mood. It was less than a week until Christmas. What would his life look like by then? And how much would his revelations affect his family’s lives, and the upcoming wedding?
Iris was silent until they reached her little car. So quietly he barely heard her, she said, “Are you able to drive?”
“Sure.” He took the keys she fumbled out of her purse, unlocked the passenger door and helped her in, and then climbed behind the wheel. Adjusting the seat for his taller frame, he said, “I’ll drive you home and call a cab to get back to Forbes and Sonia’s.”
“Oh,” she said dully. “I can . . .” She raised her slender hands, which trembled. “No, I really can’t drive.” She shook her head. “I’m sorry. This is so pathetic, so stupid. You’re the one going through trauma, and I should be strong for you, but I’m falling apart.”
He reached over and caught one of her hands. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this. I’m sorry, Iris. When we . . . became friends, I had no idea that I’d . . .” He shook his head. “You should distance yourself from me.”
She didn’t respond and her hand rested quietly in his, almost as if she wasn’t aware he was holding it. He didn’t start the car engine.
Finally, she turned to look at him. “It’s human nature to seek to be comfortable. We focus on the areas of life we can control. Like you with your music, once that old woman gave you her gift. Me, with my family and the store. Outside of the realms we can control, we often feel powerless, and so we avoid venturing there. Jelinek rendered you powerless. It’s no wonder you tried to shove all of that into a little box in the past, all locked up. You tried to throw away the key or forget where you’d hidden it. But now you’ve unlocked the box and this time it’s you who’s seizing power and putting yourself in control.”
He nodded. As usual, Iris’s wisdom resonated with him. “Yes, I’m trying to.”
“You’re a strong man, Julian.” Her shoulders rose and then dropped. “I feel very weak compared to you.”
“This isn’t your battle. You can walk away now, before it gets really bad.”
She sighed and the smile she gave him was slight, sad, and resigned. “How could I live with myself if I did that? A friend supports a friend.” Now, finally, her hand moved in his, giving him a gentle squeeze. “All I ask is that you understand my frailties. I will give as much as I can, but my strength has limits.”
“I don’t want to push you. I don’t want you to push you.”
“No.” That smile again. “Of course you don’t. Because you’re a good, caring person. Do you remember how, in the Tao of Pooh, he talks about courage coming out of caring and compassion? Well, I’m trying to remember that, and find my courage.” She let go of him and raised both hands to press them against her forehead. “But I’m afraid that tonight I truly have reached my limit. I need to go home and rest.”
“Of course.” He started the engine. “Just one more thing. I need to tell your parents and aunt. Before any media interview.”
“I can do that. Not tonight, but tomorrow.”
“Thanks, but no. They should hear it from me.” He tried to think. “Maybe you could ask them to come to the store half an hour before opening tomorrow. Hopefully, that wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience. And we’d have privacy.”
“You hate being in the village.”
A rough laugh grated from his throat. “That’s the least of my worries right now.”