There is little less trouble in governing a private family than a whole kingdom. ~ Montaigne
Bob Fraser stood looking over Benton's shoulder. He'd been peering at his son's typewriter for the last twenty minutes.
"You misspelled 'convenience', Benton." The younger Mountie stopped his ninety words per minute clatter to study his typing.
"I did not, Dad." Ben turned to look up at the ghost.
"Living this far south, around these Americans, you've lost IQ points." The elder Fraser groused, waving his son's annoyance away.
"Haven't you got someone else to watch, Dad?" Ben leaned back in his desk chair, smoothing an eyebrow with his thumbnail.
"You're the only one who can see me, remember." Bob threw his hands up.
"Maggie can see you." Benton responded tersely.
"I don't know why I'm here, I just appear and disappear as needed." The old man shrugged. A knock on the door interrupted Ben's next remark.
"Come in, Turnbull." The senior Mountie sighed as he looked to his father to be silent. The lanky, junior Mountie opened the door and stepped inside. He'd heard his superior officer's voice through the door. Turnbull heard him often, talking to himself or Diefenbaker.
"Good afternoon, Sir. Here's your mail." The blond Mountie smiled broadly, his chipper manner sometimes annoying to no end.
"Thank you kindly, Turnbull." Ben took the two, business sized letters and one, large, manilla envelope from him. The manilla envelope had various kinds of stamps and postage on it. The address was written in a spidery hand.
"Oh, this looks interesting." Ben pulled his letter opener from the top desk drawer and slid it beneath the flap. With a swift, upward motion the Mountie opened the thick envelope. The top, left hand corner had only an address somewhere in the United States and a first name but the ink had been smudged beyond reading. Too much postage had been affixed on the top, right hand corner. In the center of the crinkled envelope it was addressed to Robert Fraser RCMP c/o Constable Benton Fraser, Canadian Consulate- Chicago, Illinois and the zip code. 'Fragile' and 'Handle with Care' were hand written on the bottom margins. Ben wondered that the thing had arrived at all with such an address. An odd, very old air settled around the envelope.
"What's this here?" Bob Fraser leaned in to see what slid out of the envelope. Ben let the contents fall out onto the desk. There were black and white photographs, letters tied with silk ribbon, a leather bound diary, a lock of reddish-brown hair, polished river stones and an unaddressed, sealed envelope. Ben collected the photos first. He sorted through them. Without looking at his father, the Mountie tried to identify the people in the photos. Ben saw a very young Buck Frobisher, Bob's former partner, Gerard and his own father. They were younger than Ben was as he looked at them. He then came across a snapshot of twenty-something Bob Fraser with a smiling, young woman who wasn't Caroline, Ben's mother.
"Dad, who's this?" Ben turned to look at his father. He seemed smaller somehow and pale, if a ghost could go pale. The older Mountie's expression took his son by surprise. He hadn't seen Bob Fraser aghast since his mother's death.
"My word, I haven't seen her in over forty years." Bob studied the worn image a moment, his light eyes drifting back to scenes only he could see. The young woman's smiling face and light eyes looked back at him. She was as beautiful as Elizabeth Taylor ever thought of being, with a slimmer, longer figure beneath a sweater and pencil skirt. Pearls lay against her porcelain skin. The young woman's arm was securely hooked around the young Mountie's as they posed for the camera on someone's front porch. Young Bob Fraser smiled broadly, his free hand laid over the young lady's. Ben noticed the ring on her left hand, a diamond glistening in the sunlight.
"Who is she, Dad, I've never seen her before." Ben asked again.
"That, Son, is Veronica. A girl I knew a long time ago." Bob Fraser's eyes glistened a little as he tried to touch the photograph. His fingers melted right through.
"You knew her before you met my mother?" Ben tried to establish a time line in his mind, taking into account his birthday and his parents' wedding date.
"It was years ago, Son, it's best left alone." The old Mountie's voice crackled with emotion. Ben sat back, eyes wide. His father had never spoken so harshly to him unless it was an emergency. The living Mountie flipped the photograph over. Written in that spidery hand was a date.
"This is dated one month before you and Mother married." Ben showed him the neatly written date.
"She and I knew each other years ago, Benton, leave it alone." Bob Fraser turned away from his son, his hands behind his back. Ben looked down to Diefenbaker, his half wolf friend. The wolf wasn't convinced and neither was Ben.
"What aren't you telling me, what happened between you and this woman?" The younger Mountie joined his father near the window.
"It's none of your business." Bob Fraser walked toward the closet door, walking straight through it and into where ever it was he went when he wasn't with Benton.
July 4, 1959
Dear Veronica,
It's finally dark out. My body wants to sleep but my mind races with thoughts of you and that kiss beneath those ancient pines. I never suspected you felt that way toward me. That walk along the village, the smell of pine, I'll never forget it as long as I live.
Yours always, Robert
Ben read the first letter twice. He'd never heard of his father or his grandparents mentioning a Veronica before. The letter was dated the summer before his parents' wedding. He knew it was his father's handwriting, he'd read his journals often enough.
Ray Kowalski knocked on the consulate office's door loudly, wondering why his Canadian friend hadn't answered yet. With a sigh, he hollered, "Hey, Bennie, you in there or what?" The replacement detective's voice carried through the old door, as well as through every door along the hallway.
Ben threw the door open, nearly sucking Ray inside. "Hello, Ray, sorry I didn't answer sooner, I've been preoccupied." The detective shrugged as he walked inside.
"We had plans to watch the hockey game, remember?" Ray reminded him incredulously. He had begun to think something was wrong when the contentious Mountie hadn't arrived at the apartment at eight o'clock.
"That was tonight?" Ben asked innocently. Ray nodded, his light eyes surveying the office. As usual, it was dark and quiet. The only light on in the office was the desk lamp, illuminating a small circle around Ben's desk blotter.
"It completely slipped my mind, Ray, let me get my hat." The Mountie whirled around, to retrieve his Stetson and his leather jacket.
"What's got you so preoccupied, Fraser, you'd be half an hour early to your own execution." Ray leaned against the door jamb.
"I was reading through some letters I received today." Ben answered as he walked out of the office.
"Must have been some hot stuff, I knocked on the door a dozen times." Ray shuffled out into the hallway as Fraser waited on Diefenbaker to follow him out. The wolf loved going to Ray's. There would be pizza and popcorn.
"It's interesting reading, if that's what you mean." Ben thought back to his father's reaction to that one picture. He made a mental note to call Buck Frobisher the next day.
"Oh yeah, what was it?" Ray's eye brows shot up.
"The envelope didn't have a return address, but the sender knew my father in his youth. It's a woman, I believe."
"I take it this woman isn't your mother then?" The scrawny detective's interest had been piqued. Ben's past was something he didn't talk about much. All Ray knew was the surface stuff, even after over a year of seeing each other every day.
"No, she isn't. I'm still trying to figure out who she was to my father." Ben wondered as he walked to Ray's GTO. The classic, American muscle car gleamed in the evening light.
"Sounds like you've got a mystery to solve, Buddy." Ray grinned as he slid behind the wheel.
"So I do, Ray, so I do." The Mountie agreed.
