As soon as I finished the translation I rushed into Jim's room. He
lay still, his hands tight against his chest. Checking his pulse confirmed
my worst suspicion.
I phoned the police in Gopher Brook. They told me an ambulance would
be on the way. No need to hurry.
When the police and paramedics left I began following the instructions
Jim had written down for me. He said that the story would have to be a
vurwika. That was another of those nouns from the Conundrum and Oxymoron
group. It meant "a secret which survives the telling". I was to tell it
as fiction. Remembering what his grandfather had said about fiction, I had
no objection to this.
"The wise learn more from fiction," Grandpa McGuire had said, "than
fools from fact."
Destroying the evidence was far more trying. Seeing the LOOP
dictionary and grammar book go up in flames was a wrenching experience for
me. But the most difficult part was getting rid of the family pharmacy. I
hesitated when I got to their meagre supply of eltica, the "missing"
vitamin.
"Denise?"
My wife knew that I had phoned about a very serious matter by the tone
of my voice and the fact that I was not calling her by her pet name.
"Colin? What's wrong?"
"Denise, I have to ask you something. Listen carefully, and don't
answer too quickly. This is the question: if you could live to be three
hundred, would you grab at the chance?"
"What kind of question is that?"
"A serious one. Would you do it?"
The line was quiet for a while.
"No," she answered thoughtfully. "No, I don't think I would."
"Neither would I."
I washed the eltica down the sink.
"Colin?"
"Yeah?"
"What's happened?"
"It's Jim. He's dead. Listen, I have to go now. Have to make
arrangements."
We said our good-byes. I promised to return home as soon as I could.
Protecting the identity of the person who had contacted Jim was of
paramount importance. But it was not a difficult challenge. I simply
changed everyone's name and then invented the Mensaplasms. Voila!
While some discerning readers might be able to figure it out, the people
who would harm Jim's confidant are neither discerning nor readers.
Jim's poker buddies held an "absent" wake at Kelly's. It was nothing
formal. Just a bunch of old friends crying in their beer, becoming more
and more impervious to the ravages of angels.
Ed Horton offered to take Bernice. He told me his own dog had passed
way a month before, so it wouldn't be a problem. I nodded. Weeks later, I
phoned him to see how Bernice was adjusting. Ed told me that she had taken
off a few times during the first week. No big deal. He would just drive
over to the McGuire place and pick her up. Lately, though, Bernice had
come to accept her new home.
"The wife and kids are crazy about her," he added.
The funeral was on Wednesday. Most of Gopher Brook showed up.
Brother Robert and the Monsignor were there, too. In accordance with Jim's
note, Reverend Carter would give the eulogy. I took the Monsignor aside
and asked why Jim would want Carter and not Paddy to speak. After all, Jim
wasn't a religious man so it couldn't have been a denominational issue.
The Monsignor smiled, but didn't answer my question.
Jim's last instruction told me not to expect Sarah and little Margaret
to come. According to the note, Jim, Sarah and Margaret had already said
their farewells.
It was an open casket affair. Jim seemed very much at peace. He
looked like he had found peace, after many stumbles. He looked like he
had also discovered a comfortable perspective, a lasting piece of mind.
Calm and content, he had found his own level. Like water in a valley.
Curtis Whitley was the family physician. An old friend of the
McGuires, it had been his unhappy task to pronounce Jim dead, just as he
had done for Jim's mother, grandmother and grandfather.
The death certificate inidicated that James Kolry McGuire, resident of
Gladen Drive, Gopher Brook, had died of a heart attack.
Me, I like to think that he met Meeka.
And never came home.
Thank you for reading "In the Shade".
I hope that you enjoyed this literary work and will adress any questions,
comments and suggestions to Colin at: cpw@escape.ca
Back to the Ward's Home Page
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