Blunt XX

Following his usual custom, Jacob awoke early and placed himself at the foot of the bed sitting cross-legged. He looked like a bird on a perch protecting his nest. There was nothing birdlike about his countenance. He had all the majesty of his leonine heritage. The events of the previous two days had taken a toll on everyone, especially Cathy. Despite the life altering circumstances which came with the new knowledge, Cathy seemed the most energized, open and accepting. Jacob was so happy there was no return to her usual state of self deprecating honesty, doubt and worry. Indeed, the appearance of a 'grandfather' who had all the manners and behaviour of a kind and loving soul, seemed to build strength and confidence in his wife.

Cathy's sleep appeared restful. Jacob watched the shimmering hues of her aura in the early morning semi -darkness. The colours were exquisite. He sensed her mother's spirit hovering above her. Lena's spiritual energy was yellow -white, clearly directing a loving light on her daughter. Jacob was awed by his ability to see the beauty of the soul's function in this elevated state. Cathy's body became bathed in the light before it swirled upward and departed from the room. Jacob hoped that Lena's spirit would make its way to the two people who gave her life. Philippe and Hélène would need an energy infusion somewhere in the strength of a small miracle to heal the breach of their separate lives. The birth of their daughter, her miserable life and subsequent death, lay like a stone between them.

Jacob could feel the vibration of anger fuelled by the apparent unnecessary cross country travelling which upset Hélène. He didn't know her but Jacob sensed that fear drove her fury towards Philippe. He could imagine the pain of learning that a daughter she thought dead had, in fact been alive. Jacob was deeply empathetic to the dilemma facing her. After all, he and his father were shocked by the appearance of Catherine after so many years. Jacob's head was swimming with memories of his own wondering if Hélène would feel the same. All he could do was pray for Hélène and Philippe who would have to navigate the murky waters of their relationship past and present when everything came to light.

In Jacob's own present circumstance was Cathy who would soon be stirring and reaching out for him in the early morning light. Much as he loved looking at her through the lens of his special gifts, nothing was more powerful than her touch on his naked skin. He uncoiled his body from the foot of the bed and lay down so that he could stretch out his long legs beside her. In a couple of hours he would have to get up and head out to work. In the meantime, her nearness brought a singular peace to his life.

Philippe rose from his bed. He tried too hard to sleep but he had been left with a pounding headache and much soul searching. The argument with Hélène was prolonged and bitter. Any feeling she had, any theory she harboured about their early relationship, was shredded to pieces the previous night. Her anger about the cross country travel knew no bounds but it was just a prelude to the real resentment and hurt; years of living with a man she hated, raising children with a man she didn't trust and years of yearning for a man who couldn't love her. Philippe listened to all of it. The venom was toxic and viral. It spread like wildfire along his veins. He should have expected it. Years ago, the pain of it would have been his undoing. Only the light in his granddaughter's eyes helped him to withstand the challenge from her, as yet unrevealed, grandmother.

Vladimir had retired long before the venom spewed. By habit, the former policeman had tended to go to bed early for most of his life. The longstanding issues between Philippe and Hélène were irreconcilable. Vladimir's presence only added fuel to the fire. He would be more helpful comforting his partner in the aftermath of the storm than trying to be a referee in a clearly personal conflict.

Indeed, after the emotional maelstrom Philippe and Vladimir talked for a long time, trying to diffuse the implications. Philippe was honest with Vladimir, outlining the full story, something he had not done with Hélène. Vladimir agreed that she was probably not ready to know the truth, may never be ready but both men thought of the healing agency of truth and how much it would mean to her if she would allow it. It could not be done without the intervention of a granddaughter who yearned for a viable family history.

Eventually the men drifted off to sleep but after a couple of hours, Philippe was up, pacing unable to relax. He needed an instrument, something to play, music to listen to. The beautiful piano which had a room of its own in California was not in New York. Philippe kept a guitar in the condominium suites. He went to the closet and withdrew it from its case. Taking care not to disturb his partner, he went to the living room.

The walls of the old building were solid. He could play softly without disturbing either Hélène or Vladimir. In a moment of release, he felt a strange sense enter his intuitive field of knowledge. It was like being bathed in a soft flow of air. Without thought his fingers found the frets and strings. Rather than moving towards familiar chords he found himself playing that song which Cathy sang at the wedding. She had said it was her mother's favourite, perhaps the only song Madeleine, as Lena, had held on to from the past.

'Imagine music as a thread from past to present,' he thought. 'Would Hélène recognize the significance of the phrasing if she heard it from the lips of her granddaughter? Does Cathy sing it as her mother Madeleine learned it from her mother Hélène?'

Philippe didn't know where the knowledge came from but he added it to the arsenal of tools he would use in the morning to convince Hélène that a possibility existed if she would open up her bruised and aching heart again. The previous night, he almost had to physically hold her to prevent her leaving. Tears overflowed from her lovely eyes even as they blazed fire. Whatever Philippe had in mind about taking on a 'new student', she wanted no part of it. She spent her last reserve of life force arguing against any further involvement in his life. Philippe felt her slump into his waiting arms. It was definitely not an agreement to acquiesce to his wishes. He led her to the door to the second bedroom and encouraged her to sleep.

'I promise Hélène, tomorrow you will be pleased to come this far and listen to this delightful girl sing. Forgive me for being inconsiderate. I forgot that you are not used to getting up and moving across the country at a moment's notice.'

There had been no response to his apology.

Philippe continued to allow thoughts to flitter in and out of his consciousness. They were not wholly unproductive; just musings from the depths of uncertainty and sorrow which he would recall if needed. Knowledgeable fingers plucked aimlessly on the guitar strings. Occasionally a few words would accompany the notes but he could not formulate a verse. The chest discomfort which frequently hijacked his energy returned. His heart was agitated and yearning for solace. He searched deep in his mind for a piece of music which would soothe the anxiousness. Breathing between the rapid beats, his long elegant fingers found the Ave Maria. He leaned back against the cushiony depths of the couch, pulled the guitar close to him and played the sacred melody until his fingers could move no more.

Hélène cautiously opened the door to her bedroom and peeked into the living room. Her foul mood of the previous night was replaced with guilt. She hated change. All she ever wanted was an ordered life with someone who loved her. Instead she wound up with a pedophile whose behaviour resulted in the death of her child conceived with the only man she had ever loved.

Philippe had not been unkind to her but his lifestyle wasn't hers and the longer she stayed in his orbit the harder it was to return home. She had fought with him and spewed out all her complaints in a way that she had never done with the Guy. Philippe hadn't deserved her rancour and yet she made him responsible for her years of unhappiness. The hateful words had placed an unfair burden on his shoulders. Even his later contrition had not been able to soothe her savage breast.

After a restless night she awoke early, regretful to the depths of her soul for hurting Philippe in the way she had. The sun was just rising, sending some light to the edges of the blinds which covered the windows. She looked around wondering if she should leave and go home just as she had threatened. Her presence was not helpful to either of them.

Over the top of the couch she could see the neck of a guitar. She vaguely remembered hearing music playing at some point in the night. Her ear was sharp and able to detect even the most subtle sound. She made her way over to the couch, surprised to find Philippe sound asleep. One arm was wrapped around the body of the instrument, the other hung loosely towards the floor. His face had lost its usual tension and he slept on without stirring.

On closer inspection Hélène thought he looked pale. She touched his face feeling the cold, dampness of the skin. She took the limp arm and felt anxiously for a pulse. She found none. Her first instinct was to scream. She did so, loudly enough to rouse Vladimir from his bed. He threw open the door and looked at the image of his lover, pale and semi-conscious, sprawled out on the couch. He ran forward and dropped to his knees. Two fingers quickly found the carotid artery in the neck. It was fluttering like the wings of a hummingbird.

'Is he dead?'

'Hélène, go into the bedroom and look on the bedside table. You will find two bottles of pills. Bring them to me immediately!'

She did not stop to ask any further questions. Hélène found the pills. She reached out to grab the bottles. There was a photo underneath one of the bottles. Hélène glanced at it quickly before picking it up. She returned to the living room and handed the medicine to Vladimir who quickly opened one bottle and took out a pill which he placed on Philippe's tongue. The photo fell from her hands as she realized that it was one taken of her when she was younger. Hélène stooped down to pick it up. She did not remember taking it. Her eyes quickly glanced at it but the focus was on Philippe and his very worrisome pallor.

'Can you tell me what's happening Vlad?'

'He suffers with atrial fibrillation from time to time, especially when he is stressed. He should not have been out here without his medication.' The tone put blame where it didn't belong but Vlad was concerned. Philippe could have died. Who knew how long he had been lying there bathed in a cold sweat and unable to move?

Vladimir removed a pill from the other bottle and placed it under the tongue. He moved his arm behind Philippe's shoulders and pulled him up a little, talking softly, pleading for a return from the twilight world between life and death. All the while he was checking for a pulse, waiting for it to resume its normal tattoo. He was seconds away from a 911 call when Philippe stirred, drawing in a huge, unnatural breath which brought some colour back into his face.

Vladimir was not as calm as he pretended. Strong arms enveloped his partner with the first sign of normalcy. Time passed slowly while Philippe recovered his equilibrium. Hélène turned away to conceal the tears in her eyes, hiding an envy for the love the two men shared.

She looked again at the picture wondering when Philippe could have gotten her photo. On closer inspection she saw that the photo wasn't of her at all. It was obviously taken recently. She vaguely recognized the face but couldn't place it. She turned from her contemplation of the facial features at the sound of Philippe's voice.

'I am sorry Vlad. I just felt too weak to get up and get my pills. I was hoping it would pass.'

'You fool. If Hélène hadn't come out, who knows what would have happened?'

'I would have gone gentle into the morning,' he misquoted wryly.

'That's not even funny.'

'It wasn't meant to be, mon amour. I'm sorry for saying it. Where's Hélène?'

'Philippe, I am here. I am so sorry. I said so many things to you, harsh things you did not deserve. I had no idea you were unwell. I'm sorry.'

'Peu importe désormais. Mieux pour tu d'être honnête.'

'I wasn't honest Philippe. You were a scapegoat for my own shortcomings. I have not even been honest with myself. Are you alright now?'

'No I will pay for this with some weakness for a day or two. I think I need to eat. Why don't we have breakfast together, then we can see the young lady.' He paused knowing what was coming from his partner. 'No Vlad, I will not put it off. This episode has taught me even more about the importance of getting things done in the moment.'

'Philippe, before we eat, can you tell me who this is?' she said handing the photo to him.

Vladimir got up to order breakfast. He hoped there was no further trouble brewing. He had forgotten that the photo of Cathy was on the bedside table. His concern over Philippe removed his normal caution otherwise he would not have sent Hélène into the room. A look of contrition and shrugged shoulders were the only signs of apology as he made his way to the internal phone.

'This is the young lady who will sing for us today,' Philippe commented, staring at the picture of their granddaughter.

'I thought for a moment it was a picture of me taken years ago but the gown is one I never had and she seems tall. She wears her hair in the same way as I do. What's her name?'

'Cathy. Catherine really but her mother-in-law has the same name so she shortens hers. She was dressed up for a ball.' The tone was deliberately off hand.

Hélène was puzzled by the casual way in which he spoke without expanding on the information. She didn't pursue the matter.. Philippe still wasn't well, although it seemed that he had a few of these episodes before and weathered them without much effort. She noticed that Vladimir was cautious and watchful but not solicitous. She tried to be the same. The episode frightened her. Even without any anger lingering from their argument, to lose him now would be disastrous.

'Jacob, I am afraid that this meeting will not be as easy as I thought. Hélène was very angry last night. Today she is more accepting but still wary of meeting anyone else. Do you wish to come here or should we meet at your home?'

Jacob paused before responding. He detected a tone of weakness in Cathy's grandfather. In a flash, the episode of heart palpations came to him. He could see inside the heart and knew the cause without having to make any further assessment.

His response was measured. 'There are two issues here Philippe. It will be one thing to gain the confidence of Hélène but there is also more information waiting to be channelled. The outcome needs to be addressed. I can't monitor the events or prevent the story from coming out once I get started.'

'Do you have any idea of the content?'

Philippe could almost hear the smile in Jacob's voice. 'I don't. I will hear the information with you. I sense your worry. Is there something else you need to tell me?'

'I don't know if I have the strength to cope with much more. My heart...'

'I know Philippe. I am going to send some energy to you. Accept it. You will feel better. Cathy and I will come to you.'

Jacob made up his mind to keep this a very private matter. If things didn't go well, they could always leave. In his mind, this day would be given to Hélène. She needed to reconcile her reality with the present. The rest of the story would wait. He paused for a moment, closed his eyes and sent a wave of healing energy to Philippe. In his mind he kept a picture of the heart, sensing its uneven firing from the nodes. Jacob tempered the flow from his hands so as not to overwhelm the normal beat. He felt a level of satisfaction and knew it was time to stop.

He turned his attention back to the case file in front of him. The pile on his desk was becoming increasingly smaller. He hoped that Kurt would be happy, although deep inside Jacob knew that the route to making Kurt happy was near impossible to negotiate.

Jacob continued to work diligently against his own timeline. He wanted to get through a certain amount of work before Cathy came to pick him up. A quick glance at his watch told him that it was almost time to call her. Rob would bring her from home to his office.

'One last chart' he sighed into the open docket lying on his desk. Before he could scan the contents, the door to his office opened.

'How are ya making out?'

'Good thanks.' Jacob looked up at the same time, mildly surprised to see his boss standing at the door. 'This is the second time in as many working days that you've come into my office. Glad to see you but ….is anything wrong?'

'When you see me, it's because I need a break and this is a good hideout. Nobody bugs you.'

'Are you serious Kurt? That's why you're here?'

'No Jacob. I had a call from your wife. She says you're late.'

'I know. I am trying to get ahead of this pile on my desk but for some strange reason, it seems to grow over night.'

Kurt walked into the small office and shut the door behind him. 'Did you notice anything about these cases?'

'Yes, apart from the fact that they all seem to have my name on them, in them are other semi-familiar names and organizations which keep cropping up.'

'I believe we have another lucrative money laundering scheme going on. Certain information seems to keep coming up in a small group of perps. I am a little more worried about this one. Do you have any ideas?'

'I do. My mother is engaged in voluntary work with some of these same folks. From what I can determine, they are not criminally implicated but seem to be unaware that their activities are being monitored. If their low end people keep falling into the hands of the law, what's happening at the top?'

'Your mother? I didn't know she was working. Did Smirconish get to her?'

'Yes, you know they're old friends. Remember he came to the wedding? She hasn't been happy about the working committee she's assigned to. I don't like her getting involved but….'

'Look Jacob…now isn't the time to discuss this, but we will talk about it. I don't know what Howard was thinking, getting her implicated with these people who work on the fringe of the law.'

'My mother isn't likely to take risks you know.'

'You should know better than anyone that her desire to do the right thing will pit her against unscrupulous people. She doesn't have to take a risk.'

Jacob nodded. He could sense that Kurt was having the same concerns. Failing to comment implied a tacit agreement with his boss. Kurt's eyes narrowed.

'I am aware that you and Cathy have something important to do today. I really came to talk about your wife. She asked me to come to the meeting with the both of you. Do you mind?

Jacob's eyebrows drew together. 'Did she say why?'

'No. When she asks me to be there for her, I just trust her if she says she needs me. I know that you're quite capable of looking after her. It must be something else. Do I need to bear witness to something?'

'I think it's just about trust, as you say. We will be going into an emotional tsunami. I don't expect her to come out unscathed. She needs support because I may not be mentally available to her.'

'I see.' Kurt didn't really see but he suspended any number of questions. 'I'll be there. I have about an hour or so to spare but I have to get back after.' Kurt's hand turned the knob on the door. He threw his final comment over his shoulder on the way out. ' Call my secretary when you're ready to leave.'

Despite the need to hurry up, Jacob leaned back in his chair. He brought Cathy's face into his vision. He could sense that she wasn't unhappy but her cautious nature would lead her to arranging backup. Someone as solid and stable as Kurt was a good choice. If the grandmother rejected her right away and Jacob's attention was elsewhere the gruff, but kindly man would support her. Instead of being upset by her decision, he supported it wholeheartedly. Channelling information from the past often left him weak and out of sync with the present. Cathy would need a support. Kurt was a good choice.

'Are you nervous?' Jacob whispered a little later, getting into the van beside his wife.

'Yes, but I also feel strangely calm…like this is meant to be. Jacob, promise me that we will not push this lady to acknowledge that I am her granddaughter. I will do whatever Philippe thinks best but if she asks questions, let me answer. I am the best person to tell her about my mother. There are things she will know about Lena or want to know. If I answer, it will feel more real to her.'

'My darling KitCat, I know this is a personal undertaking but I am so proud of you for letting your sensible, educated side, analyze the best way to manage this situation.'

'I feel anything but sensible and educated. I am just a nervous kid again.'

Kurt, who was trailing behind Jacob, climbed into the van and caught the last of Cathy's words.

'I don't know what this is all about but I have never seen you falter Cathy. If you do, I will support you in what ever way I can.'

Jacob and Cathy went on to share information about the events leading up to the need for his presence. If he was surprised by the story, the jaded counsellor learned to temper his response with thoughtful questions.

'So you know that your grandmother exists but she doesn't know about you?' he summed up quickly.

'Exactly. I don't want her to feel... hijacked by our presence. As far as she is concerned, I am auditioning for Philippe. I don't think I will be able to sing but I hope she'll see something in me which triggers the right questions.'

'Other than Jacob's visions, do you have any hard proof of your mother's existence before New York?'

'My other grandfather, Edgar Raeburn, kept the birth chart which he created for my mother. If you know anything about astrology, you will know that accuracy of date, time and place is critical. I found it at the back of a remembrance book which he gave me. It took a while to figure out what it was. When I did, everything fell into place.'

'Are you sure you don't want to come back to work for me?'

'Oh Kurt, my life is so full and you already have my husband.'

The trio ended the trip on a light note. Their laughter helped to diminish lingering nervousness. The lovely old building with its ornate exterior and lush interior was intimidating enough. They were shown into the elevator by a uniformed guard, who remembered them from the previous visit. As they stepped off the elevator, Cathy could see Philippe, her grandfather, waiting down the short hall, standing expectantly at the open door of the condominium. His smile was reassuring. None the less, her heart fluttered in fear. Only the touch of her husband's hand and Kurt's reassuring presence allowed her steady pace towards the fulfillment of her destiny.