I thought about it. “The police—”
“The police don’t know their ass from their neck,” Laura said. “They have Michelle’s DNA to go on, but I doubt that anyone’s going to waste any time or taxpayer money pursuing that lead now that the case has been solved and the murderer is in custody. If they figure it out, then they figure it out. We don’t need to help them. You didn’t share that letter with Luc, I hope?”
I shook my head. “Of course not.”
“Burn it the first chance you get,” she said.
I hesitated. Laura busily turned around and started replacing the floorboards the way she found them.
“Mom,” I murmured.
“No one comes here. All those rumors keep them scared. All the better. We’ll nail the door shut. A few more flood years, and the whole thing will collapse, burying the secret for good. Then only two people will know, and one of them doesn’t have long.” She smirked.
When I said nothing, she looked serious. “Stephanie,” she said, “you’ll keep your mouth shut, won’t you?”
“I—”
“You’re not still thinking about that radio show of yours, are you?”
For the first time, I smiled. “No,” I said.
And I wasn’t lying.
We made our way back to the mobile home as the day drew to a close. I went out to get some food, leaving Laura to watch TV on the couch, and came back to find the living room empty. The house had sunk into a penumbra. She wasn’t in her bedroom either. I looked over the disarray of her things, at the plastic jars of medications scattered all over the dresser, and then shut the door. I guessed correctly that she’d be out back, perched on the old plastic chair turned gray with time and exposure. A beer can sat at the foot of the chair, but it was unopened. A forgotten cigarette turned slowly to ash in a makeshift ashtray.
I followed Laura’s gaze. She watched the sunset, one of our famous country sunsets with the wash of gorgeous colors across the sky.
“Did you buy the frozen pizza I like?” she asked without turning around. “The one with the bacon bits.”
“They were out,” I said. “I just got pepperoni.”
She gave a grumpy sigh. “I have weeks left to live, and she can’t even get me my favorite pizza.”
We stayed quiet for a few moments as the sunset colors deepened before our eyes. I couldn’t take it anymore—the pretending like nothing had happened.
“Laura,” I said, “do you think that God will judge us when we die?”
“No. We did what we did for a good reason.”
I shook my head. “No, I don’t mean specifically for that. I mean in general.”
“I intend to find out soon, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to come back and tell you.”
“Mom.”
“Fine, fine. For what it’s worth, Father Legrand, at the church, always says that the old bastard isn’t nearly as judgmental as people make him out to be.”
“Well, I sure hope so.”
Laura chuckled. “I’m pretty much banking on it.”
“It’s a gorgeous sunset,” I said at last.
Laura nodded. Her face looked solemn, free of the ravages of age and illness. The glowing light erased it all, smoothed over the creases and chased away the shadows, and she looked serene and lovely. “It sure is.”
EPILOGUE
We hold Laura’s funeral service in the same church where she lit a candle for Michelle every week for nearly four decades. It’s a sunny day, unseasonably warm, and the light pours in through the stained-glass windows, a whole cascade of vibrant colors on the floor and the pews. On our way out, I glance up and notice the big round window above the entrance. Saint David of Himmerod’s face is calm as he casts out demons. Calm, almost bored, as if it’s just another day on the job for him. I wonder about the artist who made him this way more than a hundred years ago. Was it an artistic decision or was it just easier to draw? Or maybe saints are always supposed to be depicted this way. Or maybe that’s the only way to defeat evil, to stay implacable in the face of it, never let it warp and change you.
Luc takes my arm, and I realize I’d been standing in the middle of the aisle for quite some time. “Come on,” he says softly, “let’s go.”
I decided I’m not moving anywhere after all. I’m staying in Marly, with Luc, as it were. The contents of the envelope Pierre Bergmann left me are securely hidden, and at some point, I plan to feed them to the wood stove of our new house. I’m not turning the case into a podcast. I’ve come to the conclusion that there are certain things I’m not willing to exploit for money. And as for the SQ and the police, Frank was absolutely right for once. Let them do their job, if they manage to.
The town has taken stock of its sinners and its saints, and now it’s time for everyone to move on. Main Street is being restored, with plans for a ditch to be built to prevent another flood. All the exposure finally put the town on the map, and, paradoxically, people are now moving in. A cat café is opening, if you can believe it. It’s going to be right next to the newly inaugurated historical museum.
Michelle has been buried in the Fortier family plot, next to Gaetan Fortier and Marie, who passed recently. The old Fortier house went unsold. The house itself turned out to be unsavable, and the land in a flood zone wouldn’t have fetched any money anyway. It’s been demolished, its foundation gouged out of the wet earth, and the resulting crater was filled in and smoothed over. Only weeds grow there now, in the picturesque spot over the river.
Laura’s final resting place will be next to her parents in the town cemetery. The headstone is ready, with an image of praying hands and a fitting quote about forgiveness.
Forgiveness, I think, is the key. To forgive isn’t the same as to forget although, at some point, I suppose the two begin to overlap.
The day after Laura’s funeral, I learn that Tony Bergmann passed away. One of the church’s Charitable Society volunteers found him in the park right across the street, on a bench, looking like he might be sleeping. She says his face was smooth and peaceful, almost childlike.
For if you forgive others their trespasses, say the words etched in marble above Laura’s grave, your Heavenly Father will also forgive you your trespasses.
I guess Tony also chose to forgive. His mother, and Laura, and the town.
