Chapter Seventeen
Ulysses
—I didn’t see you at the fire today. Are you okay? —
Finn’s reply pinged back immediately. —Sick. —
—I’ll bring chicken soup. —
—Contagious. Stay away. —
I put my phone back on my dining room table as I stared at my laptop. Colds and flus weren’t unheard of this time of year—but October felt early in the season. Still—
I texted again. —Are you okay? —
—Yeah. Not really. I’m out on sick leave for the next week. —
Fuck it. —I’m coming over. —
I didn’t wait for a response. I tucked my laptop back into my messenger bag and headed out the door.
Ten minutes later, I was sitting in the lobby of the country-style restaurant while they dished up two bowls of soup and heated some garlic bread.
Oh, and I decided an entire lemon meringue pie would be a forgive me gift.
Thirty minutes later, I let myself into Finn’s cabin. He hadn’t locked the door, but that wasn’t a huge surprise. He maintained no one would bother to rob him.
I tried to point out he didn’t know that. And that, in fact, robbers might not know he only had a big screen television to steal. If he had anything else, I hadn’t seen it.
“Said not to come.” A feeble voice from under a pile of blankets on the couch.
“Do you have chills? Are you hot?” I moved to the kitchen. “I brought soup, garlic bread, and pie.”
“Lemon meringue?” A little less feebly.
“Yes. Soup first.” I found a spoon, opened the lid of the container of soup, and headed to the living room. The cabin was really just one large open space with the loft above and the two bedrooms with the bathroom in the back. “Sit up.”
He pushed himself up. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were bright. His hair was a disaster.
I’d never thought him more adorable. I handed him the soup and spoon. “What does your mother the nurse say?”
“Keep her out of this.” He pouted.
“You haven’t told her.”
“It’s a cold. Or the flu. Or COVID. Or something.”
I arched an eyebrow. “Do you not know the difference between a rhinovirus, coronavirus, and influenza?”
He rolled his eyes. “I just feel like shit. Thank you for the soup.” He took his first sip. “This is awesome.”
“Fifties didn’t have the soup or the pie.”
He eyed the container. “Oh, these folks are great too.”
“I hoped so.”
“Are you having some?’
“That’s the plan.”
He pointed to the chair. “Stay well away from me.”
I rolled my eyes. “I think I can keep my hands off you. You look like shit.”
“Well, I feel worse.” He sipped. “This really is appreciated.”
“My pleasure.” I headed back toward the kitchen. “How did you catch this…whatever this is?”
“No clue. Miriam says no one else is sick. I thought maybe I got it from you.”
I laughed. “Nice try.”
“Well, we were at Tully’s together two days ago.” He sneezed. “How’s your investigation going?”
No missing the invisible air quotes.
“I have a couple of leads. Waiting to see if things come together the way I suspect they might.”
“You going to share?”
“Absolutely not. Do you have a sore throat?” I put the pie in the fridge, put two pieces of garlic toast on a plate, and grabbed my soup.
“Nope.”
“Oh good.” First, I offered him the toast.
He smiled and snagged it. Then he took a bite. “Almost as good as my mom’s.”
“Far be it for me to argue.” I sank into the recliner and raised my feet.
“Tough day?” He grinned. “A lot of shoe-leather detective work today?”
“Nope. Just going through property records.”
“Sounds boring as shit.”
“You wouldn’t be wrong.” I sipped the soup. “Yeah, this really is good.” I eyed his television. “You want to watch something? Or just hang?”
He gazed up toward the loft.
I followed his track, but couldn’t figure out what was so interesting.
Finn cleared his throat. “I was hoping you’d come with me to the high school.”
“Tonight? Are you sure you don’t have a fever?”
He shook his head, swinging his gaze back to me. “Tomorrow night. It’s really important that I’m there.”
“Risking your health and risking making other people sick?”
“I’ll wear a mask.”
I winced.
“Fine, I’ll drive myself—”
“No, you won’t. If it’s that important, I’ll take you.” But I was going to make sure he had a lot of fluids and an early night first.
Twenty-four hours later, when I landed on his front doorstep, he did look better.
He shrugged. “I think it was a twenty-four-hour thing.”
“If you say so.”
He donned his mask.
I wanted to tell him not to bother. Then I remembered how miserable he’d been yesterday. Since I didn’t want to be that way, I kept my mouth shut.
Twenty minutes later, we entered the gym at the high school.
Two basketball teams were warming up at opposite ends of the room. I recognized Mission City Collegiate’s light blue and gold. I squinted to read Abbotsford on the opposing red-and-white team jerseys.
“Old rivalry?”
Finn gestured to a corner of the bleachers away from everyone else. Once we were settled, he spoke. “Yeah.”
“And the black armbands on the Mission City team?”
“For David.”
“Yeah, okay.” Now his wanting to be here—no matter what—made sense.
A couple of the boys moved toward us and waved.
Finn gave them the thumbs-up.
They returned to their warm-up.
I scanned the crowd carefully. “Is that woman related to David?” I pointed to a woman wearing all black and dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief.
“Yeah. Marcia. His mom. She’s got three kids and a police-officer husband. He works for the Abbotsford Police Department.”
“Not Mission City RCMP?”
Finn shrugged. “Not everyone wants to be associated with the baggage of Canada’s national police force.”
“Good point.” The Royal Canadian Mounted Police had both a storied history and, thanks to some truly bad apples, a notorious reputation. Especially in racialized communities.
A group of girls clustered in a corner caught my notice as well. “Who are they?”
“David’s younger sister Patrice and three of her friends.”
“Aren’t two of those girls from your rec league?” I was pretty sure I recognized them.
“Yes, Rue and Tenyce. Good memory.”
I shrugged. “I try.”
He chuckled.
Then the game began, and he grasped my hand. Part of me was surprised—not that he was willing to show affection, but that he needed some kind of support.
Several times he clearly wanted to yell encouragement, but his chest rattling kept him relatively peaceful.
“I hope you don’t get pneumonia,” I whispered into his ear.
“Worth it. Had to be here.”
Although I understood the sentiment, I couldn’t say I had anyone in my life that I’d risk further illness for.
Not even my intrepid Spring. Well, if she was in trouble, then of course.
And if Finn needed me. But just two people after forty years on the planet.
That felt…pathetic. Still, two more than I’d had when I’d ridden into town— “Is that…?” I knew who he was, of course, but I wanted Finn’s reaction.
He nodded. “Marlon. I, uh, don’t remember ever seeing him here for a game before.”
“Might he be here because of David? Of his death? Did he respond to the call?”
“I’d have to ask. I just don’t remember.” He eyed me. “I’m getting to know that look. You’re about to go to the bathroom again, aren’t you?”
I shrugged. Then headed to the bathroom. By the time I returned, Mission City was leading by ten points and halftime neared.
In the end, they won the game.
Finn gave plenty of thumbs-up, but stayed back.
Some of the kids looked disappointed, but Mr. Clayton, from a distance, expressed gratitude.
“Glad you could make it, Finnegan. Sorry to hear you’re sick.
Also grateful you’re keeping your distance.
My wife would strangle me if I came home with a virus of some kind. Our kids are already germ factories.”
I chuckled.
The principal turned his attention to me. “I appreciate all the great articles your paper writes about our school—as well as the rest of town.”
I nodded. “I’ve been welcomed here.”
“I hope so. Small-town living can be an adjustment. My wife had rarely left Vancouver before she came out here. The quiet disconcerted her. You’re from the city, right?”
“Born and bred, as the expression goes. Do you have a moment to speak?”
He eyed Finn. “Are you okay?”
I pivoted my attention and found Finn’s brow sweat-slicked. I turned back to Mr. Clayton. “You’re right. I’m his ride, so I’ll get him home.”
“Come by my office tomorrow, and we can chat about whatever’s on your mind.” He glanced over toward the students gathered around David’s mom. Then he gazed back at me.
I nodded.
“Only so much I can say—but I can certainly discuss drugs and how they affect our community. That’s your thinking, right? Or something else?” He waved it off. “Whatever comes up. Tomorrow?”
“That would be great.” I grasped Finn by the elbow.
He didn’t even put up a token protest—which told me just how sick he was.
Within an hour I’d sponged the sweat off him and had him in bed.
“I’m just going to sit at the dining room table to get some work done,” I told him.
“Okay.” Mumbled.
“And I might crash in your spare room.”
“I’m fine.” Slurred. He was headed into sleep.
I brushed his damp hair back from his forehead. “Indulge me. Otherwise I’ll worry.”
“Thought I was getting better.” He coughed.
I winced. I should’ve donned a mask when he’d taken his off. “Well, going out tonight probably wasn’t a good idea. But I understood.” Better to head off that argument before it started. “Take care, okay. Just call if you need me.”
“Yep.” He rolled onto his side, curled into a ball, and was asleep within moments.
I worked at the table for a while. I watched television for a while. Eventually I crawled into his spare bed for a fitful night.
In the morning, his fever appeared to have broken.
So, reluctantly, I headed to work.