Autumn began wet and rainy (heaven knows they needed the moisture) and suddenly in October the sun shone and magical fall color brightened the neighbourhoods of Victoria. Bold blue skies, puffy clouds, shimmery water, crisp dawn sunrises juxtaposed with stunning rich sunsets that were in abundance, while leaves of deciduous trees displayed a riot of colour fluttering gracefully, sometimes pitching violently (in high winds), to the ground; renewing the life cycle and concluding the fall season. The trees needed a period rest from their hard work in the growing seasons of spring and summer where they synthesized carbon dioxide, water, and sunlight to form the sugars that the tree used as nutrition. “As fall progresses into winter, (dormancy phase) the leaves have died off, and with the increase of cold winter winds, these leaves soon fall off of the trees. By the time that winter begins, most deciduous trees are again barren of all of their leaf cover. But the cycle will begin anew in the next spring.” Providing a life-giving benefit to mankind, effectively cleaning the air we breathe and offering shade, shelter and food to animals. Works of wonder.

Except at the beginning of the semester where Phoebe had the shock of learning Riley had been responsible for all those past school fires, she’d had a pretty good first go at things on campus in the music world. In fact, she discovered it was her salvation from all the aspects of her life that were difficult.

Phoebe had sensed Riley was out of control that day at Beacon Hill Park, but the perpetrator of ALL those school fires? That had hit hard and cured Phoebe of her past thrill of starting fires. Riley was in jail! A serious offence that disturbed Phoebe deeply. Fire could cause destruction and kill, or it could produce heat and provide life-giving warmth. Phoebe’s father had taught her well and instilled a deep respect for the almighty flame. She was guilty for fooling around and pushing her luck playing with fire, but had matured in her outlook as she’d grown (thankfully!). She’d seen firsthand firefighters and arsonists were not pals.

An unexpected development had lead Phoebe to first year residency on the university campus, and she was thrilled to no end. Her father had decided to fulfill her wishes, saying “it would be a better environment for her to learn in, where she would be among people who valued study and a higher education within the setting of the campus”. Just WOW – completely unexpected and a great launch to her future, now filled with focus and direction. She was inspired!

Phoebe knew Zac and Jon were attending classes on campus that fall, and kept her eyes open for either familiar face, until new faces filled the void and she stopped daydreaming about them and their band “Powerful Company”. So when she ran into Zac one day in Caps, one of the many places to eat on campus, it was a total surprise.

“Hi Zac,” she said shyly as he weaved among the tables with a tray in hand. His backpack overflowed with books and paper. She could relate. So much for technology reducing the load.

“Well hi yourself! Do you have time for a visit?” He set his tray down on a nearby table and shrugged the backpack onto a chair.

“Sure”. Phoebe moved her stuff over to Zac’s chosen table. She hovered behind a chair and stood as Zac got settled. He dove into his plate of food.

“I can see you’re hungry,” she laughed.

“Starved. I need to,” he said. biting into a giant sub, “eat before I drop.” Phoebe watched with amusement as he crammed the food in at record speed, barely taking a breath in between mouthfuls. When he finally stopped for a sip of coffee, she sat down, cradling her own cup of coffee in solidarity.

She politely waited for him to finish. This was part of the new Phoebe. The old, impatient, sometimes rude and angry female had faded over the semester. Perhaps having a private space without personal relationship conflict was making a difference. Living in residence was much less stressful than at home, and Phoebe was grateful to her father for splurging on such a luxury. She felt calm and confident in her new environment and music had added to the positive change. Almost a transformation, really. Phoebe stared at Zac’s wavy thick hair and repressed her joy.

“How’s your semester going? Are you still in the writing program?”

“Yes ma’am. Actually it’s going quite well. I like it more than I expected I would.”

Phoebe smiled. “That’s a good thing, right? Me too, the music program I’m taking is great!”

“Good to hear, Phoebe. By the way, I’m still looking for new band members. A female voice would be a welcome addition.” Zac drained his coffee with a noisy slurp.

He glanced at his cell phone. “We’re meeting this Sunday in my living room. 110 Dogwood Street, 7 pm.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it. Thanks. How’s it been going on your own?” Phoebe avoided mentioning his mom, but needn’t have worried.

“It’s strange living alone since my mom passed, but I’ve gotten used to it. There are a few perks.” Zac was open about his situation, which Phoebe admired. She decided to try a similar approach.

“Good to hear, Zac. That was a terrible loss you suffered. I’m actually living on my own here in residence, and loving it.”

Zac frowned. “I thought your family lived close by.”

“They do. But I felt I’d do better in residence, and my father surprisingly agreed. Things are not so great at home.”

“Ah, I get it. Well, good for you. I hope it works out.”

“So far, so good. Soooo how’s the band coming along? Still just you, Jon and the drummer?”

“Ah, no” he paused with a deep crease in his brow, “Jon and I had a disagreement and he quit. But I found a new bass guitar player, so it’s all good.”

“Oh too bad about losing Jon. Maybe he’s just going through a rough patch. Is he on campus too?”

“Ya, taking computer science. But I never see him.” Zac looked sad and quickly changed the subject, standing and collecting his stuff.

“I’ve gotta run! Hope to see you on Sunday. My place isn’t far and you can easily walk over. I think it’s still light out then. I can walk you home.”

Her heart skipped. “Okay, Zac, hope to see you then. Bye!”

Students spilled from the doors of various campus buildings, the sun shone, and the last few leaves clung to trees like a spider clings to a threatened web until a strong wind or heavy broom strike tips the balance – and the leaves – like the spider web, follow the law of gravity to the ground. It was beautiful extended autumn weather into November on the 48th parallel – rich green hues of grass shone, night skies were enhanced by a full harvest moon and the energy of youth made it all the sweeter.

Catherine vacillated between feelings of excitement, fear, and satisfaction that it might just work as a career for her. She certainly didn’t like every aspect of nursing thrown her way thus far, like the care homes filled with elderly people who were often scared, confused and hurting – that upset her – but she did her best to learn what they needed and what her role as a nurse would be in such a context. There were bright lights among the suffering that countered the depressing scenario; a jolly character to laugh with and an interesting story recounted. Cat thrived on the academic side; reading, researching, writing papers, analyzing and exams brought out her best self, all the while she was learning about caring for the individual in a wide range of settings. The best part was the variety of fellow students of varying ages and backgrounds, the awesome lineup of teachers (well, there was always that one or two that fell short but she was okay with it. Not everyone was cut out to be a teacher, she thought). Overall it was exhilarating to be out of the confines of high school.

A favorite activity which gave her mind a rest from study was lengthy, reflective, spiritual walks. Sometimes through neighborhoods, sometimes in the forest. Occasionally Catherine would take the family dog, her camera, or a friend, but her best walks were alone soaking in nature on a deeper level. One day she thought of inviting Jon. Surprisingly, he accepted.

It was overcast and the air hung heavy with moisture when they went out and the low lying clouds lent an element of mystic as they swirled and reshaped in the distant hills.

“So how is your semester going, Jon? Any surprises so far?” Her brother’s hair had grown wild and he barely fit in his chair. Gone was his lithe, gym buffed body and rock-star smile. Cat tried not to stare at the now obvious changes that concerned her. Jon’s physically and mental well-being had taken a turn for the worse. It broke her heart.

“It’s okay. I have a couple of decent instructors and the work load is manageable.” Jon lagged behind his sister, breathing hard.

“That sounds good. Have you made any friends?” Cat was aware Zac was keeping his distance right now. She knew the friends had another “falling out” and was saddened by this.

“Nah. No time for any, to be honest. By the time I do my classes and study work I’m exhausted and need to rest.” Cat knew “resting” was hours in front of a screen, alone. She stopped on the trail to let Jon catch his breath. “Maybe we could go to a movie together soon. Might be good to switch things up and have a break from your usual routine. I heard Fandango is an epic story. I love theater popcorn.”

“Um, maybe. Let me think about it sis. Like I said, I’m really tired lately.” Cat thought the movie might appeal to his love of history and nature, but oh well. Things had changed. She could only suggest.

The pair continued a little further until Cat couldn’t stand it anymore. Her brother was obviously struggling to keep up. “Let’s head for home. I promised mom I’d help her bake.”

“Sure.” Jon grunted and groaned his way up a few slight hills following his sister and Cat gave up trying to make conversation. One thing she noticed is her brother rarely smiled anymore. She was sad and also secretly angry with Jon for being such a zombie, although she continued to hope her brother would rise out of his depression. No wonder Zac had bowed out.

Cat was very quiet helping her mom make chocolate chip cookies.

“You okay, honey? It’s not like you to be silent.”

“I’m fine, mom. Just don’t feel like talking today.” Catherine didn’t want to share her observations and concerns about Jon with her mom. She would worry too much. Cat bit into a warm cookie. “Mmmmmm. The best, Mom. You make the best cookies. How many dozen have you made?”

Mrs. McDonnell smiled with pleasure. “Thanks, daughter of mine. Six dozen so far. I’m estimating enough batter for 2 dozen more, and we should be set.”

They soon finished the labour of love and Cat disappeared to her room, drying her hands thoroughly after stacking washed dishes in the rack. She paced restlessly back and forth from the window to the door, and suddenly thought of calling her friend Amber in Vancouver.

“Hey Amber.” Her friend picked up right away.

“Hey Cat. How’s it going on the big ‘ole island?”

“Not too bad. The first semester has gone really fast. I’m liking it. What about you?”

“Oh you know, the usual. I’m not minding my second year at UBC. The problem is I don’t have a specific goal in mind. My parents tell me there’s nothing wrong with a Bachelor of Arts degree, but I can’t find a focus. So I just keep going, trying various subjects, trying to get inspired. You’re lucky you knew right away what it would be…” Amber wounded wistful.

“Well all is not perfect in my world either. The medical scene is confusing and harsh at times. Also, I still haven’t met the right guy, and my brother Jon is struggling again adjusting to his harsh new reality of living life from wheelchair.” Cat sighed deeply.

“Sorry to hear that Cat. Your brother really is a great guy.”

“That’s exactly the problem, Amber. He doesn’t think he’s good enough since his accident. For about a year we thought he was moving forward, but then everything changed, and it’s like going back in time to the beginning of his accident. That was almost two years ago.”

The girls discussed various things in regards to Catherine’s futile efforts.

“Here’s an idea. If Jon doesn’t want to talk, write him a letter. A bunch of letters. If he doesn’t answer, it will still help, I think. What have you got to lose?” Amber’s cat meowed loudly in the background.

“You know, that’s a good idea. I might just try that.”

The friends went on to discuss clothes, boys, exercise and entering into an adult world. They agreed it was tough. Amber signed off when a friend showed up, and Cat thought more about her friend’s idea. She liked writing letters, almost a lost art in the technology based world they lived in, but what the heck – no harm in trying. She pulled out her favorite writing pad that had a row of butterflies at the bottom, and began writing – no typing on the computer this time. Cat read over what she wrote and changed a few things, deciding the right words were more important than a perfectly written letter. She read it over, stuffed it in an envelope and shoved it under her brother’s door before she had time to over-think the idea or change her mind.

“Dear (my one and only) Jon,
Since you don’t say much these days, but I know we both value words (spoken or written or sung is good with me), I thought a letter might be a good way to connect with you. There are so many things I want to say when we’re together but somehow it never gets said. So here goes…
I would switch places with you in a heartbeat so you could feel better about yourself. But I can’t change what happened, so the only thing I can do is change myself to adapt to your new reality. But here’s the thing, Jon. I can’t do it alone and I need you to help me by changing what you can, giving up old dreams, and creating new ones. You have your whole life ahead of you and the potential is amazing, still within reach despite the setbacks.  I care about the whole of you, not just legs that don’t work. That’s just a small part of who you are. The wheelchair isn’t your  identity. Yes, it’s part of your new reality, but only a part of the whole Jon McDonnell.  I think everything you were before the accident is still inside of you: caring, funny, clever, sensitive, stubborn (this can work in your favor, you know), determined and charming. It just got buried in the landslide of your accident. 
Keep on truckin’ big brother! I believe in you. Mom and Dad believe in you. People like Mr. Barden are praying for you.
Love (your one and only) Cat

 

It had been beautiful autumn weather in Victoria, almost perfect in fact, with warm bright days and cool wet nights. The rain had brought the grass alive and much needed moisture to gardens, flowers, trees and shrubs. Ground soaked up water like a sponge, restoring the delicate balance nature required to offer its best self to the world. At least for a brief period in Victoria. Deeper problems were festering globally as man encroached more and more on that balance. Not to say that nature was perfect either, dishing out extremes in weather across the planet, with plenty of disasters in flooding, famine, fires, insect wars, tornadoes, tsunamis, disease and more. Where it would lead was obvious to some, but most were too busy to notice.

In late November the rainy season began in earnest and daylight hours shrank. People gravitated to indoor activity and to their homes. Mary was no exception. Her house sparkled as every Christmas ornament came out of hiding, lights and decorations festooned every nook and cranny and the crowning glory of an elaborate nativity scene graced the mantle beside a giant pine tree awaiting adornment. Mary loved everything about Christmas, especially the shopping and baking, as her secret was planning months before. It made things manageable. And enjoyable. Excepting unexpected events that always came up. Church was a special place, where worship, advent and prayer brought the season into focus. The celebration of a baby that came to save the world of its sins, of which there were plenty. Where free will constantly got people into trouble -there was a savior- and Mary loved that savior with all her heart.

It was December 1. She was excited to decorate the tree tonight at home with her family, but for now focused on her job at the flower shop that hummed with activity like a bee colony buzzing with the task at hand. Creating the most beautiful flower arrangements was Mary’s specialty while the bees made the most exquisite honey in their work season. Bellamy Flower Art glowed with Christmas lights, candles, live wreaths and a few Santa’s here and there, but the majority of space was taken by flowers and greenery in baskets, clever miniature glass globes alive with Christmas scenes, multi colored poinsettias of every size, and flower arrangements to suit every desire and budget. It was mayhem, and Mary loved it. She forgot about everything else when she was immersed in living flora.

“Jackson, son, could you give me a hand for a minute? This darn bucket is so heavy I’m worried I might drop it.” Much to Mary’s satisfaction, their seasonal student helper had been hired for most of December.
Jackson hurried over.

“Yes ma’am, we don’t want any strained backs or injuries with our number one flower designer. Where would you like this?” He lifted the bucket like it was nothing.

“In the back with the other buckets beside my big work table, please. Bless you!” Mary thought about her own son, thinking he could perform such a task with similar ease if it weren’t for… she cut off her thoughts like Jordana had taught her and redirected them. Jon could probably carry the bucket in his wheelchair, his arms were so strong. There, her therapist would be proud! Accept reality and move forward. Let it go. Breathe.

As the festive season began Mary learned the job she loved so much was a therapy in and of itself. She and Jordana had come a long way, and Mary had finally truly forgiven herself for giving up her little baby so many years ago, certain now that it would have led to struggle after struggle for mother and child. Jordana promised in the New Year she would give Mary the information needed to possibly find her offspring. That would be an entire new chapter in her life, and before that she needed to share the news with her husband to prepare him. Another unknown, because what if he refused to participate or worse reject her wish? Thomas could be very obstinate. Jordana’s calm voice reminded her, “One step at a time Mary. Remember to breathe.”

As her mind whirled, she made up a dozen tiny tree displays in bright red ornament shaped containers that were flat on the bottom, adding whimsical touches with a bow here and brightly wrapped miniature present there. Her bosses voice boomed from the front room.

“Mary. Did you have a chance to finish the hospital order? There’s someone here to pick it up.”

“Indeed it’s here, boxed and ready to go.”

Mary had created a very large arrangement of long stemmed red and white carnations accented with green holly, red berries, and fragrant cedar boughs. The white carnations had red tips – almost heart shaped, which she’d never seen before. It was to go in a massive crystal vase where it would be placed in the main entry of the Royal Jubilee Hospital. Simple but stunning. Easy to care for, and would last several weeks. She’d used wicking Styrofoam to hold everything in place so it could be easily placed in the vase and watered regularly.

The flowers were whisked away, and Mary found a list of individual orders and began creating anew. Her thoughts wandered back to Jon, who’d been uppermost on her mind of late. Her son had refused therapy. He didn’t want to talk to anyone including the people in the self-help group he’d belonged to, and worst of all, he and Zac had a misunderstanding. At least he was going to class, which Mary saw as the only positive sign this fall. He’d gained a lot of weight, spent hours alone and often ate meals in his bedroom. People in her church were praying for Jon, and Mary prayed daily that this depression would lift. It was breaking her heart. Even Jeffery Barden had stopped coming around as Jon refused to come out of his room when the Barden family came over. Mary was happy to see her husband and Jeff had struck up a friendship, but very unhappy that no one could reach her son. It was impossible not to worry.

She carried the miniature Christmas trees out to the front in a cardboard box, adding them to the window display to form a pretty wreath shape, leaving room at the bottom for a larger arrangement where a bow laden creation would go.

“You have a magic touch, Mary. Everything you create comes alive and customers love your work. Why don’t you take a break while it’s quiet?” Her boss was right, it was a perfect time and Mary wandered into the coffee room and made herself a cup of tea, nibbling absently on a shortbread cookie as the kettle came to a boil. As she sat, weariness overtook her stressed body and she closed her eyes, visualizing the manger scene with baby Jesus sleeping peacefully. Mary took a few deep breaths and sat quietly, banishing negative thoughts as they crept into her mind. In the distant background, a siren echoed its lonely wail.

She finished work at 4 pm and stopped at the grocery store on her way home. As Mary was putting bags in the trunk, her cell phone rang. She missed the call. It rang again within in seconds.

“Hullo Thomas. Is everything okay?” Mary’s voice quivered.

“No dear, I’m afraid not. I’m at the Jubilee Hospital with Jon. Please come now.” Tom’s voice sounded distant, monotone and devoid of emotion. His police voice.

Her hands shook as she said a silent prayer. ‘Please God, keep my son safe.’

“He attempted suicide, Mary. Please hurry.” The phone clicked.

Mary got behind the wheel. She bowed her head and said another prayer. “Heavenly Father, show me what to do.” And she drove, her tears frozen in time.

Chief McDonnell was pondering the Beacon Hill Park grass fire of two weeks ago (which he knew very little about), but didn’t get far in thought as an early evening call came in on his cell phone, which had replaced his old pager. He’d adapted to the use of technology in recent years like a duck to water. The Long Term Evolution (LTE) system and wifi had replaced archaic communications and boosted ability of law enforcement exponentially. Much information became almost instant with scanners, webcams, tablets, smartphones and many devices created specifically to provide immediate data, or adapted to speed up crime detection. Thomas had a new set of specialty eye glasses that he wore at potential crime scenes that contained a built in micro camera and recorded everything he observed in real time. The current advancements had changed the dynamics of policing forever.

“Technology continues to change the professions of law enforcement, criminology and criminal justice. With proper restraint and respect for constitutional concerns, the use of technology in criminal justice will continue to allow crime fighters to further their ability to serve and protect their respective communities.“

“Smoke reported from the east wing of McCauley School in Esquimalt,” said the dispatcher. He waited to put on the siren/flashing light combo until clear of his neighbourhood, and pointed south on a main road, pulling a headset on that served as both communication and ear protection as he drove. Thomas punched the address into the GPS and noted a fifteen minute run, tapped buttons on the electronic device mounted to the dashboard and increased vehicle speed. As sirens sounded his adrenaline kicked in and put all his senses on high alert, the muted noise creating an urgency in his brain even though he was well conditioned. Traffic was light and the majority of drivers pulled over; this was unusual although his eyes constantly scanned for the panicked driver. The ones who froze in place were as dangerous as the drivers who went about their business oblivious to the emergency. But tonight all was calm. So far.

The school was only six blocks from ocean water, and typically the air was clean and crisp. But with 30 km/hr winds, Thomas could smell smoke a few kilometers away. Upon arrival, he found three fire trucks on the scene, flames licking out of an exploded classroom window, and starting a grass fire in the brown, desiccated field adjacent the school. Wind ramped up  and swirled smoke in every direction. Thomas parked his SUV on Lyall Street to survey the situation, noting two police cars had set up to divert traffic off of Lampson Street where the trucks and main fire were situated. The grass fire was knocked down rapidly with an arsenal of nozzles and spray, initially creating much smoke and limiting visibility. Thomas waited until smoke dissipated and drove around the school grounds, passing through the police barricade towards two of the fire trucks. A vehicle from his department was on sight, and the fire chief from truck 9 waved him down.

“Bloody windy night for this fire. But we got ‘er sir. Extinguished as of 2100 hours. Plenty of smoke and potential flare ups, but I think we have enough backup to do the job. Your guys just went in. You need anything?”

“Thanks McGrath, I’ll let the men do their investigation. Great work, by the way. Is there much damage?” Chief to chief they spoke.

“Not much damage considering the conditions. One partially burned classroom, one with heavy smoke damage, and a blackened field.”

Shouting erupted from within, and the fire chief excused himself and disappeared into the school. Thomas parked and walked around the structure with his new “camera” glasses, noted the aging wooden frame and crumbling bricks, speaking his observations into a tiny microphone as he went. An oral and visual account of the scene would speed future analysis.

Thomas filled out the initial report on his laptop from home, and as he finished his cell phone rang. “McDonnell here.”

“Hi Chief, the investigators conclude it was arson again. Go figure. I’ll email  you the details.

“No surprises there. Thanks. I’ll be in touch.”

Thomas hung up and cursed to himself. His department was appearing incompetent as fire after fire ravaged the city, yet they were no closer to finding the arsonist. It was driving him crazy. Especially with all the technology available to detectives to instantly identify a fingerprint,  DNA sample, or anything that might lead them closer to an answer.

In his personal life was a nagging stressor as well, weighing heavily upon him like those bar weights he watched people at the gym strain to lift. His son Jon was suffering again in another round of depression, this time taking it out on himself by overeating and becoming lethargic. This was not the son he knew. But everything had changed after Jon’s accident and his new normal was anything but. His son’s future had been looking bright, and then bam, in a few short months Thomas thought they were back where they started. How could he have missed such a dramatic shift in behavior? Jon masqueraded wellness by hiding in his best friend’s loss, fooling himself and everyone that he was fine. While Zac suffered his own personal trauma Jon put his feelings on hold to support his friend, Thomas realized. To make matters worse, his son was rejecting just about everything he and Mary had suggested. Jeffery Barden’s ideas had been sincere, but once again acted a bit like a band-aide to a broken leg; ineffective to fix the injury. Jon needed regular professional help to beat this monster, that was obvious. Someone to talk to that asked the right questions. But how to get him to accept that help was another problem. Thomas could resort to his father’s bullying ways, but suspected that would make it worse. Besides, he had vowed to himself to do things differently.

His own therapy had been helpful in keeping himself accountable  with a different approach to life – like how he handled his son’s troubles – and Mary said she noticed a big improvement. They were working together to help their son, and it felt right. Thomas needed to let things happen “organically” his therapist said, whatever the hell that meant. He recommended letting go of controlling everything as a start. Thomas was trying. It was working well in his marriage, so perhaps it would help in dealing with his son. Line one buzzed, breaking his thoughts.  It was the front desk clerk.

“I have a note for you sir. It was dropped off anonymously. Shall I bring it to you?”

“By all means, Sheila.”

There was a brief rap on his door and Sheila entered, placed the enveloped curiously on his desk, and turned to leave.

“Tell me what you observed about the note bearer.”

Sheila turned around in surprise. “It was a young female, wearing jeans, a black coat and a beanie covering  her hair. Tall-ish, medium frame. She didn’t say a word, and hurried away in a nervous rush.”

“Hmmm. That’s all I need, thanks.” The description didn’t fit with anyone Thomas was aware of. They did have anonymous tips given sometimes, so he didn’t pursue it. The outside of the envelope was blank and he ripped it open and pulled out a neatly folded sheet of standard letterhead paper. There was one typed sentence at the top.

“The arsonist you’re looking for is Riley Springer.”

Thomas frowned. He did a quick background check, and she had no prior record. Didn’t seem likely. Riley Springer graduated from Bellamy High School the same year as his daughter. He made a few phone calls.
Within in two hours, Riley was picked up and brought in for questioning. She confessed to setting all the recorded fires except the gas station one. That made sense as it didn’t fit with all the other school related fires. She was only 19 years old. It was a bittersweet moment for Thomas McDonnell. Sending a young person to prison, which was likely where she’d end up, always left a hollow in the pit of his stomach. He didn’t feel like it was a victory at all.