July 4, 1959
To the people of Canada's far north, the Fourth of July is just another day. To Veronica it was a day of walking around the city, seeing banners of the ole' red, white and blue, a parade, hot dogs and a parade. People were enjoying the post-World War Two economic boom still.
Instead of waiting on festive fireworks to start, Veronica stood on the back porch and watched a moose walk along the center street of Spencer Falls. It didn't seem a bit perturbed to be moseying through people's front yards or across the street from the general store. Veronica watched it until it walked out of sight, into the sunset further west. She would always remember the warm, brown color of it's eyes as it looked directly at her. Even standing on the porch, the moose could look over her head and into the house.
"Hey, were you watching Elmer?" Robert asked after the moose had disappeared into the distance.
"What?" The young woman jerked, startled.
"I'm sorry, I didn't intend to scare you. I was just asking if you were watching Elmer, our resident moose?" His blue eyes danced as he stepped onto the porch.
"You have a name for him?" She tilted her head to the right, looking up at him. Robert's eyes gazed at her full, kissable lips, then at her loosely curling hair. His hand reached out to touch those soft locks. Thinking of her uncle seated just meters away, he stopped himself.
"Yes, Elmer walks through Spencer Falls on a regular basis. People stare out their windows at him and leave him alone. The old guy doesn't bother anyone."
"Have a seat on the swing." Veronica offered, pulling up a ladder back chair. She could see her aunt peeking through the white curtains at them and waved to her. The curtains snapped shut.
"I'd rather take a walk, I can show you a few of the constellations." Robert offered, desperately wanting to get away from his boss and Aunt Edna.
"Okay, just a short stroll, alright?" The young woman winked at him and smiled.
"Just down to the edge of the village, I promise." Robert spoke loud enough to be heard through the front screen door. He offered her his arm, like a gentleman. Gently, Veronica laid her hand on his forearm. It was solid and comforting feeling his hand over hers as they walked down the steps.
At the end of the village stood a cluster of ancient pine trees. They grew over a hundred feet tall and had seen more time pass behind them than they would see to come. Robert lead Veronica there, neither of them speaking. The sky above was a dark blanket someone had tossed diamonds onto.
"I love to come out here and watch the sunsets sometimes." Robert leaned against one of the ancient trees. In the distance they heard a wolf howl. Others answered, a chorus of vowels strung out in a mournful call. Veronica leaned in closer, shivering at the sound. Robert put his arm around her shoulder as she stood beside him against the tree.
"They sound so sad." She leaned her head against his shoulder.
"The Inuit have a story for every animal out here, especially wolves." He pulled Veronica closer, sliding her hand to his free one.
"I've enjoyed listening to all your stories. There's nothing like them in any book I've ever read." And she'd read a humdinger lot of books.
"Thank you kindly. I've enjoyed telling the stories." Veronica turned to look up at him, a smile on her oval face. She leaned against Robert, her head tilted back to see his face in the moonlight.
"Tell me you'll kiss me." She nearly whispered as she looked up at him.
"I can show you." He offered, leaning down, capturing her lips softly at first. A light breeze blew against the pine trees, bringing their aroma down to the kissing couple. It sent a chill up Veronica's frame.
"Here, take my jacket." Robert shrugged out of the light jacket he wore. With a smile, Veronica slid into it. It smelled like him. She fingered the sturdy material, his left over body warmth warming her.
"We'd better be getting back, Uncle Luke will be cross with you." Veronica suggested, taking Robert's hand and winding her fingers with his.
"Yeah, we ought to get back." The thought of a week cleaning the dog kennels crossed the young officer's mind. Together they walked the length of the village. Veronica gave Robert back his jacket as he stood on the porch. They hesitated to say anything to each other for fear of being overheard. Instead, Veronica waved, blowing Robert a kiss when he turned back along the walk way. She saw the big, dopey smile spread across his face.
At the Consulate …
Ray showed up at the Canadian Consulate promptly at eight-thirty, half an hour after he was supposed to meet Fraser for dinner.
"Sorry, I was filing some last minute paperwork. I hope you're ready for some good Mexican food, prepared by professional Mexicans." Ray opened the door to the GTO and let the jeans clad Canadian and his wolf inside.
"Ray, I don't think there is such a thing as 'Professional Mexicans', and that isn't very ethnically sensitive on your part." Fraser gently chastised as he closed the door behind Dief.
"Sure there is, they use being Mexican as a profession, cooking and flirting with fat, American housewives. And as for the political correctness, I know you get paid to do it at work, but I got news for ya, Fraser, you're off duty." The blonde detective shrugged as the American muscle car roared to life. Ray and Fraser spent the next three blocks arguing about political correctness, eventually, somehow, arguing about Star Trek Vulcans verses Kryptonians.
"I know, Fraser, but I still don't think the Vulcan neck pinch thingy would work on Superman." They were still arguing as they got out of the car and walked into Vaca Mexicana. The waiter asked them if it was dos seats then showed them to a table in the non-smoking section before slipping them two menus.
"So, what is it that's got you so out of sorts? Would it have anything to do with your dad's mystery girl?" Ray studied him above the edge of the menu.
"I guess I'm just sorting out how I feel about it all, Ray. It all happened the summer before my parents married. I suppose I never thought of my dad as loving anyone before my mother." Fraser sat back against the marigold yellow, leather bench seat, his menu forgotten.
"I met one of my ole man's old flames once. She was a big chested redhead, absolutely nothing like my mother. When I asked him what the attraction was, you know what he said?" Ray waited for Fraser to nod. "He said that he liked her because she made him love my mother more." The detective talked with his hands, not caring about anyone seated nearby. "It took me until I found Stella to realize what he meant." Ray leaned back.
"I see what you mean, Ray." The waiter came asking for their drink orders, then quickly left.
"I bet that post commander was pissed, your dad nosing around his niece." Ray changed the conversation's tack. Fraser looked at him like he'd grown a second head.
"What did you say, Ray, exactly?" The Mountie demanded. Confused, Ray repeated himself.
"Now I know why Buck won't talk. I'm sorry, Ray, but I have to go. A rain check perhaps?" Fraser asked apologetically.
"Yeah, sure. Where are you going?" The detective asked, standing up to follow the Mountie.
"Back to the consulate, there's someone I need to talk to." Fraser grabbed his hat and laid down an American five dollar bill for their iced teas.
"I'll drive." Ray didn't like letting him walk when Ben was so anxious.
"Thank you kindly, Ray." The Mountie took off toward the parking lot, leaving Ray and Dief behind.
July 18, 1959
The letters between Robert and Veronica were a daily exchange. It started out innocently, eventually moving into the 'I can't wait to kiss you again' stage. Veronica read two dozen books, often loaning the books she'd brought with her to Robert. He too read every word, wanting to know what she knew, taking comfort in the fact that she'd read the exact same words.
By the middle of July they'd exchanged those three little words. That was one letter Veronica put safely away. Robert had written her, telling her he'd contacted his parents, asking what they thought of his marrying an American. Sight unseen, they disapproved. He was disappointed, to say the least. The letter Veronica received afterward shocked her.
Dear Veronica's
I write you now as I sit waiting for a grizzly bear to find something else to be interested in. It's been four hours so far. Boredom isn't why I'm writing. This letter is to express how much I love you and the thoughts I've been pondering. Run away with me, Veronica. Let's get married. Say yes and we can have a lifetime like the last month and a half. I love you, Veronica. Always my heart, ~Robert.
Veronica had to read the letter three times to make sure it said what it said. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. He'd never said anything about a grizzly bear, or marriage, or anything past September. She didn't think he was that serious about her. It felt wrong. Veronica couldn't imagine living without Robert, but it still felt wrong.
"Oh, Robert, what are you doing?" She asked aloud as she tucked the letter inside the envelope again. Veronica hit the letter in her suitcase with the others and her journal. She could only imagine what her uncle would have to say if they came across the letters. Luke Fitzgerald was one of the strictest officers in the RCMP, he had a reputation for it.
At the Consulate …
A single light on Meg's desk burned the midnight oil as she tried to catch up on paperwork she'd ditched to help Fraser. The only time she could get anything done was when he was out. Usually when he was out he was doing something to cause her more paperwork. It was a viscous cycle. Meg couldn't imagine it any other way.
"Dief, I waited fifteen minutes for you to finish outside." Fraser's voice startled Meg out of her paperwork haze. She pulled her prescription eye glasses off and shoved them in a drawer. Through the open door she could see him strolling down the hallway past her. The sight of him in a pair of Wranglers made Meg's temperature rise ten degrees. The white, wolf-dog trotted into Fraser's office for the night.
"Oh, Inspector Thatcher, I wasn't aware you were here this evening." Fraser back tracked, his Stetson in his hand.
"Just tying up a few loose ends." Inspector Thatcher answered, not looking up from the file on her desk. Fraser took a timid step into the office, he hated to interrupt her but he had to tell someone.
"Sir, if I may, I know why Buck Frobisher is hesitant to discuss my father's conduct the summer of 1959." When her gaze lifted suddenly Fraser knew she was intrigued.
"Continue." Meg answered noncommittally. Her heart thudded out of control as she tried to appear calm and wait.
"The post commander, Fitzgerald, must have found out about his niece and my father. Fitzgerald likely threatened my father's career. There should be something in the file, a letter of reprimand." Ben's mind still raced. He'd told Ray he'd let him know what he found.
Meg took a deep breath. She didn't want the mystery to be over so soon, but she couldn't keep the files a secret anymore.
"Constable, these arrived today." Meg pushed the two file folders toward Fraser, each of them a dozen centimeters thick. She watched as Fraser picked up his father's file. He'd never actually sat down and read the whole thing before.
"Your answers are most likely in these files, Constable Fraser." Ben detected a note of sadness or was it tiredness? He had to look at her to tell. Meg's soulful brown eyes had lost some of the spark Ben had noticed when they'd begun the search. He was nearly as sad to see it over as she was.
"I'll read my father's file tonight." Ben stood up to take his leave. It wasn't consulate business so he didn't feel the need for Thatcher to dismiss him before tuning to leave.
"I can take Fitzgerald's then." Meg began collecting the files she'd been working on and laying them aside.
"Are you certain, Sir, it's getting late?" Fraser asked, turning back around.
"No, Constable, I don't know my own mind." Meg ordered him, "Sit." The Mountie nodded, part of him glad to spend the evening with her, even if it was seated a meter across from each other, noses planted in dusty files.
"I'm hungry, beef or chicken?" Meg asked, picking up the phone and dialing the Chinese restaurant a few blocks over.
"Either is fine, Sir." Ben nearly choked on his surprise, dinner with her two nights in quick succession. She shot him a withering glance.
"I'll start the coffee." Ben volunteered. Meg only nodded as she began ordering.
Twenty minutes later Ben met the delivery guy at the door, payment and a tip in hand before Meg could make it around her desk. She was still standing in the middle of the office when Fraser brought two plastic bags full of food back.
"Ah, a late dinner." She took one of the bags from him, the dim light and her lack of prescription glasses blurring Ben's face. Meg had to strain to see what color his eyes were. After a long moment, she reclaimed her seat and began opening the containers and portioning out chicken and crab Rangoon for them.
"I found a letter your father wrote to Veronica in Fitzgerald's file." Meg handed him the handwritten missive. His eyes scanned the familiar writing twice.
"My word, he was planning to elope with her, despite my grandparents' protests as well as the Fitzgeralds'." Ben felt like someone had knocked the wind out of him.
"I can see why Sergeant Frobisher wouldn't want to say anything." Meg watched Ben as he stared out into space for a moment. She didn't know the deja vu he felt or the new spin it put on his world.
"I'll have to call Buck tomorrow, to explain." Ben thought to himself.
"What stopped the elopement?" Meg wondered aloud.
"It doesn't say." The Mountie stood up, staring into the empty fireplace a few paces from Inspector Thatcher's desk.
"I should have waited until the morning to give these to you, Constable Fraser." Meg began putting Fitzgerald's file back together.
"No, tonight was fine. I wouldn't have slept anyway wondering." Fraser turned back to her, much more composed.
Meg still felt like a heel for giving them to him at all. She desperately wanted to comfort him somehow, to tell him she was there if he wanted to talk, if he needed a friend. The old walls felt like a vice around her heart as she saw the confusion in Ben's eyes.
"Is there anything else in the file, Sir?" That hateful, formal title brought Meg back to the task at hand. She began rummaging in the file folder.
"Yes, here's another letter, from Veronica." Meg handed him the page.
September 3, 1959
Dear Robert,
It breaks my heart that I'm leaving in the morning for Chicago. This summer has been the best of my life but I have to go. I've made a promise to someone else and so have you. I will always love you, Robert. I wish I could run away with you like you asked me to in July. Running away would be a disaster for both of us, disappointing our parents, breaking Alfred and Caroline's hearts, not to mention Uncle Luke would put you in prison when he found us. I can't bear to see you locked away. You've worked too hard to be a good RCMP officer. You'll do the world more good without me.
Please tell Buck good-bye for me. He's been a dear friend to me and to you. I wish you and Caroline the best.
All my love,
XoXo Veronica.
Ben read the letter aloud, his powerful voice struggling not to crack. He saw tear stains on the stiff paper near the corner. Some of the handwriting was sloppy and smudged. His hand shook slightly as he finished the last sentence. Without thinking, Ben handed his boss lady back the letter and sat back down.
"Your father did do the world good, Constable Fraser." It was the most professional comfort Meg could muster.
"His duty robbed him of his happiness." Ben's voice sounded harsh and angry. He stood again, ready to leave the office.
"Don't let history repeat itself, Son." Bob Fraser met his son at the door. The old Mountie shook his head as their gaze met. Ben pushed on through.
"I don't know why you're so stubborn, Benton, you were willing to jump onto a moving train with a wanted felon for Pete's sake." Bob Fraser yelled after the younger man.
Meg stood at the door watching Fraser stalk down the hall silently. She listened as he closed the door firmly. Anger crackled the air in his wake. The lady Mountie knew all too well what he'd been talking about when he'd accused duty of stealing happiness. Wasn't she guilty of the same thing? Tired, Meg cleaned up the Chinese leftovers and the files before turning out the light and leaving for her apartment. Her empty apartment, she told herself. What she really wanted to do was kick off her Gucci heels and walk into Fraser's office to tell him how she felt. She secretly wanted him to flirt with her again. She wanted to sit beside him and put her arm around his shoulder.
Bob Fraser's ghost followed Ben into his office, just as he knew he would. The old man was nothing if not persistent. Ben rubbed both hands over his face as if he could rid himself of the last two weeks.
"Why didn't you tell me you were going to elope with Veronica, Dad?" Ben demanded, his voice quiet, which was worse than a raised one. Ben stood in the middle of the office, his hands on his hips, looking down at the floor.
"I thought you'd take it the wrong way, Son." The old Mountie's excuse sounded feeble event to him.
"Just when I thought I was getting to know you, Dad. You should have been honest with me." Ben nearly growled.
Diefenbaker sat between the Mounties, his eyes going from one to the other as if watching a tennis match. The wolf-dog could sense the anger between them more than hear it. Dief had rarely seen his human this angry before, especially at the old Mountie.
"A man is entitled to his mistakes, Benton. You've made your fair share." Bob Fraser's downcast gaze raised. "That's why this angers you so much, this reminds you of Victoria."
"Leave her out of this, Dad. It has nothing to do with her." Benton turned on his father.
"Yes, it does. You want to be angry with me for something you're guilty of yourself, because you can't be angry at yourself any more. I'm just a new target." Bob Fraser saw the pain and hurt in his son's face as their eyes met. The old man wished he could make Ben feel better, like when he was a little boy and he could pick him up and pat him on the back after he'd fallen on his bike.
"Before you get angry at me, Benton, ask yourself if there's actually anything to be angry about." Bob Fraser's voice was gentle. For a long moment both Mounties stood looking at each other. Bob Fraser walked to the closet and disappeared through the door, leaving Ben alone with his thoughts.
July 31, 1959
Veronica didn't know what to tell Robert about eloping with him. She didn't tell him anything. The day after he sent her the letter asking he drew the short straw and was sent out to trail a miner who'd taken off with an entire payroll. The assignment took him away for the next two weeks. As much as she'd thought about it, dreamed about marrying him, she still didn't feel it was right, so she didn't tell him anything.
"Have you finished the last book I loaned you before I left?" She knew what he wanted when he asked her that question. Her heart leapt in her chest.
"No, let's take a walk and talk about it." Veronica smiled sweetly as she took his arm and led him off the porch that evening after dinner. A light breeze blew as the pair walked the length of the village, discussing Robinson Crusoe. No one suspected they were headed out to the pines for privacy.
"So, are you going to leave with me, Veronica?" The young officer asked as soon as they were out of sight of the village. She looked up at him, a frown pulling her brows together.
"Are you certain you want to run away, Robert, you have a good life ahead of you in the RCMP." She pointed out.
"Running away is the only way your uncle would allow such a thing. We could be legally married and in a few months return. They couldn't say anything then." Robert tried to reason with her. He just wanted to hold her and kiss her every day for the rest of his life.
"What about Caroline, what about your parents?" Veronica persisted, trying to get him to see reason.
"Caroline has a dozen, young men chasing her. She'll find someone she likes just as well in a month or two. My parents, they just don't know you, they'll come to accept you, love you as I do." He took her hands and held them in his, kissing the finger tips softly.
"You're crazy, you know that?" The young woman shook her head as she looked up into his blue eyes. It was such a rash, impulsive, immature thing to do. Yet it was so tempting.
"I know I'm crazy about you." He laughed, drawing her against him, warming her against the evening chill.
