Bernadette saw the message light flashing on her machine. She'd gotten a call from Fraser every day or so since the blood work had been drawn. Part of her wanted to talk to him, to connect with someone who connected with her mother's past. Every time she tried to dial the number she remembered those last, desperate days with her mother.
Veronica had tried to explain that long ago summer to her daughter but Bernadette wouldn't hear of it. Alfred Mason was the only man she wanted to think of her mother as ever loving. He had been Bernadette's whole world and his death had hit her hard. It seemed like her mother was cheating on her father when she wanted to talk about Robert Fraser.
The hospice nurse that stayed with Veronica the last three months had been more willing to listen to the tales the old lady had to tell of a long lost love. Veronica had needed to tell someone about that summer, to sort it out in her own head. She just wished that Bernadette had been the one to listen.
With a sigh, Bernadette hit the play button on the machine to hear Fraser's message.
"Bernadette, this is Benton Fraser. I received the results of the blood work this afternoon. We are of no relation to each other. If you would like to talk I'll be here at the consulate all evening." He sounded different to the woman's ears. She heard a knock at the door as she hung her purse on the coat rack.
"You have a registered letter, Ms. Mason." The mail man handed her the form to sign then the letter.
"Thank you, Larry." Bernadette waved at him as he walked down the sidewalk through the neighborhood. She stood in the door way, looking at the envelope in her hand, already knowing the results. Tears brimmed in her blue eyes. All Bernadette wanted was peace and quiet for a while. First her father dies, then her mother is diagnosed with bone cancer and feels the need to reveal something to her she should have told years before. Looking around the porch, Bernadette saw the ghosts of her family everywhere.
Grabbing her coat and purse, Bernadette walked out of the house she'd lived in since before she could remember. She didn't know where she was going. The sunshine in the city and the feeling that she was the only one being followed by a dark cloud drove her onward. It wasn't until she was standing outside the Canadian Consulate that Bernadette realized she'd been headed here all along.
"Ms. Mason, wait," She heard Fraser's voice from down the street as she turned to leave. "Bernadette, wait." He jogged to catch up with her.
"Constable Fraser, I, ah, I shouldn't have come. I received your message and …" The look on her face spoke volumes.
"Come inside, I'll make you some tea." Ben studied her a moment. She saw the need to help her in his green eyes. None of this was his fault anymore than it was Bernadette's.
"Thank you." She let him usher her into the consulate and back toward his office.
Meg sat at her desk, staring out the door while she was supposed to be working. The scene with Fraser earlier that morning was still haunting her. She wished that she hadn't said anything after he told her she was gracious. When Meg saw Ben escorting a woman down the hall the inspector snapped back to reality.
"I'm glad to see you came here. I was concerned about you." Ben's tone was soothing as he removed his Stetson.
Meg came around her desk, hoping she could catch the Mountie before he had time to get away.
"Constable Fraser," She said briskly.
"Ah, Inspector Thatcher, this is Bernadette Mason." Ben tried to figure out a way to introduce Bernadette more clearly.
"I'm Constable Fraser's superior officer." Meg volunteered, politely shaking the other woman's hand.
"Pleased to meet you." The inevitable, awkward silence fell between the three of them.
"Why don't we have tea in the sitting room. Constable Fraser makes a wonderful, Asian variety, I'm told." The inspector spoke first, taking a handle on the situation.
"Ah, yes, I'll meet you both there in a moment." Ben turned on his heel and left the women to their own devices.
"I hope you don't mind the intrusion, Ms. Mason, but Constable Fraser has apprised me of the connection between your mother and his father." Meg settled herself on the couch near the fireplace in the sitting room.
"I don't mind. I guess working so closely together you and he confide in each other." Bernadette saw the red creep into Meg's cheeks as she squared her shoulders and adjusted her watch.
"Constable Fraser and I have a strictly professional relationship." Meg wanted to melt into the couch cushions and never come back.
"Oh, I'm sorry, he just seems like someone a person could open up to is all." Bernadette shrugged, mildly amused at Meg's reaction.
"Yes, he would seem to be." The inspector said a little wistfully, her gaze drifting to the door Fraser would be coming through any moment.
"Is Constable Fraser anything like his father?" Bernadette asked, trying to change the subject.
"Unfortunately, I never had the honor of meeting Robert Fraser, but from what I've read, he was very much like his son in a lot of ways. Both are very good men, very honorable." Meg smiled tightly. Every time Fraser had been pressed to give account of her leadership he'd had only good to say. Meg couldn't say the same for herself.
"Here we are, camomile tea." Fraser walked in carrying a tray. He'd overheard what Meg had told Bernadette, about him being an honorable man. He felt that tender, aching spot in his chest weaken at her words. There was so much he wanted to tell her.
"Thank you, Constable, I should really be going." Meg stood to leave. It was a family matter, sort of, and that was something to be discussed in private.
"If Benton has told you all about it already, stay, please." Bernadette tucked a strand of her dark waves behind her ear as Fraser rounded the arm chair where she sat to take a seat beside the inspector. Each of them made sure to leave plenty of space between them.
Looking at Fraser, Meg saw him give her an slightly pleading look, asking her to stay. With an almost imperceptible nod, she settled back against the couch cushions.
"I guess I came because this has been overwhelming, all this. I never knew my mother felt that way toward anyone but my father. She never mentioned ever going to Canada." Bernadette felt like she hadn't known her mother at all when she started trying to tell her about the summer of 1959.
"I can empathize with you about that. It wasn't until after my father's death that I learned a vast amount about the man." Fraser began, stirring his tea. He surveyed the room, expecting to see the old Mountie sitting in the other arm chair with his legs crossed. "At first I was angry and hurt that he would keep things from me. Then, I realized that there were things I have done that, should I have children, would be next to impossible for me to explain to them. The pain of our actions lingers long after the wound had knitted together and the scar had begun to fade." Ben's gaze took on that faraway, mysterious glint. Where he was, Meg could only speculate. She did know that he was probably referring back to the incident with Victoria Metcalf. The inspector had read the reports for herself. There was a lot to see between the lines.
"From the letters and Mom's journal, I wish I could have met your father. He seems like he would have been a an interesting man." Bernadette smiled, relieved to have shared her fears with someone else. She felt like she wasn't so alone anymore.
"Dad, he was quite a character." Ben smiled, remembering some of the cases in his father's journals.
"Oh, posh, you make me sound like I was daft. Just wait until someone starts talking about you after you die, then they'll get to tell how you talk to that wolf of yours." Ben looked up from his tea to see his father in his dress reds, hands behind his back, jabbering away. The younger Mountie was glad to see him.
"Well, I've taken enough of your time, Benton, Inspector Thatcher." Bernadette rose to leave, her tea gone.
"Perhaps we could have lunch some time, if you'd like to talk." Ben offered, not entirely sure of how to proceed. He saw his father in the corner, smiling blithely.
"Yeah, maybe. Thank you for letting me bend your ear about all this." Bernadette retrieved her purse from the floor and walked out of the sitting room. Her blue eyes were clearer and she seemed calmer. Ben and Meg rose to escort her to the foyer.
"Have a good afternoon." Fraser wished her as Bernadette waved at them from the sidewalk outside the consulate.
"You two as well." She waved back at them before disappearing into the crowd. Meg and Ben looked at each other for a moment, neither of them saying a word about the meeting.
The sound of boots thumping against the floor from behind broke the pair out of their reverie. Turnbull carried a note, a cheerful, empty expression on his fair features.
"You have a phone message, Sir." He handed the paper to Inspector Thatcher. With a frown she turned from the consulate stoop to return to her duty.
Later that evening …
Ben sat at his desk, re-reading the letters between his father and Veronica Fitzgerald-Mason. They showed a side to the old man that the younger Mountie had only ever glimpsed. He wondered if his mother had lived, if the relationship between his parents would have given him any insight into how to handle Meg Thatcher. His grandparents had had a long and wonderful marriage, but by the time he came to their care, the fire had settled into a warm and comfortable smolder. They had helped him deal with his introversion and shyness as well as they could. Despite their best efforts, as well as his, Ben had always been one to love from afar.
A tap on the door brought the Mountie back from Spencer Falls to the present. He stood up, opening the door, not entirely surprised that it was Inspector Thatcher. Turnbull's shift had been over for over an hour and the phones were turned to voice mail. There was no one in the consulate to disturb them.
"Inspector Thatcher, I wasn't expecting to see you." Ben stood aside so she could enter his tiny office. His tunic was on a hanger on the back of the door, leaving him in his uniform pants and white undershirt.
"Yes, I came to tell you that I have to send Fitzgerald and your father's files back in the morning, if there's nothing else you need from them." Meg swirled the tassel hanging from her purse strap as she stepped into the tidy area.
"I have no further need of them, Sir, the mystery has been solved." Ben held onto the door knob as she stood looking around his space. Except for the cot in the corner, it didn't look like anyone lived in the prison cell sized space.
"I also came to say, I shouldn't have overstepped my bounds, inserting myself into such a personal quest." Meg hated feeling like she was a character out of Pride and Prejudice, tip toeing around feelings all in the guise of propriety and in her case, professionalism. She wondered if it wasn't plain old fear that kept her dancing to this tune.
"I'm glad you did." Ben looked up at her, his chin still pulled down. "I couldn't have done it without your help." The Mountie ran his fingers through his dark hair. He felt vulnerable having her so close without the boundary of his Stetson and tunic to remind him of his duty and responsibilities.
"Somehow, I think I should be thanking you." Meg spoke softly, feeling the line between them blur.
"Take her for coffee or dinner, Son, she's obviously waiting for you to grow a spine and ask her." Bob Fraser's voice came out of the aether somewhere behind Ben as he waited for Meg to leave.
Taking his father's advice for a change, Ben spoke as Meg turned to leave, "Would you join me for coffee somewhere before you head home?" He saw the surprise and pleasure on the inspector's face as she looked back at him.
"Perhaps just this once." Meg let the walls lower for the first time in a long while. It was good to be Meg for a changed and not 'Inspector Thatcher'. Ben grabbed his Stetson and leather jacket.
"Wish me luck." Ben said to the dozing wolf-dog snoring in the corner.
"Good luck, Son." Bob Fraser replied, happy to see his boy doing something productive in his personal life for a change. Ben waved him away and closed the office door. It was going to be a good evening and not even Robert Fraser was going to ruin it.
The end