What's Past Is Prologue, page 2
“It’s the honour that counts,” Leah said. “And to win the honour of a summer with the Bohmobile, a team had to tick off a lot of boxes. Custody of the Boh went to the team that played the hardest, bitched the least, wrote the funniest post-game anthems and generally demonstrated the spirit of the sport of ultimate.” She grimaced. “Who came up with that anyway? It sounds like a mash-up of the criteria for the Heisman Trophy and the Nobel.”
“I wrote it,” Angus said. He snapped his fingers together in a gesture signalling inspiration. “And it just hit me. Leah’s family is throwing a party on Valentine’s Day to celebrate our engagement. I can repurpose that speech for the toast to the woman who, in September, will become my partner-in-life.”
The glare Leah aimed at our son would have curdled milk. Sawyer, always the peace-maker, said, “Time to change the subject. We’ve rattled on far too long about an evening Zack undoubtedly forgot about years ago.”
My husband had been sitting back enjoying the moment. Now he moved his wheelchair closer. “Actually, Sawyer, I remember a lot about that evening: the mosquitoes, the heat, the late-afternoon sun, Joanne saying that watching men and women who were as physically perfect as they would ever be always made her think of a poem by A.E. Housman.” Zack turned to Leah. “And I remember you making a heroic leap to catch the disc, doing a face plant on the field and pushing Angus off when he tried to help you because you just wanted to get back in the game.”
Angus shook his head. “I’m impressed. That was over eight years ago, and it was nothing special, just another summer evening.”
Leah gave me a conspiratorial wink. “I think that may not have been just another summer evening for Joanne and Zack,” she said.
My husband and I exchanged a glance. She was right. That had been the night we became lovers. After the ultimate game, Zack had driven Taylor and me back to our cottage. Taylor was half-asleep, and after I walked her inside, and tucked her in, Zack and I moved to the old couch on the screened porch and were indulging in increasingly steamy high-school manoeuvres when I realized that at any moment, Angus and Leah would be returning.
After we arrived at Lawyers Bay that first summer, Leah, Angus, Taylor and I agreed that, as the only male in our group, Angus could claim the guest room above the boathouse, and Taylor’s bedroom would be the one between mine and Leah’s. So still breathing hard, Zack and I made some quick clothing adjustments and agreed that I’d ask Leah to keep an ear open for Taylor, and when I was ready, I’d walk over to his place.
More often than not, Angus came in with Leah to say goodnight, but that night, after the RUFDC game and the post-game beer and bitch session, he’d headed straight for bed, and Leah was alone. She agreed to listen in case Taylor woke up, and so showered, dressed and spritzed with my favourite summer fragrance, I headed for Zack’s.
My first husband, Ian Kilbourn, had been the first man with whom I had sex. During the twenty years of our marriage, I had been faithful, and during the years I was a widow, I had been prudent. Zack Shreve would bring the total number of sexual partners I had in my life to four, and I had known him less than a week.
* * *
Now, on this particular January afternoon, Zack, noticing that my mind had drifted, reached over, squeezed my hand and picked up the conversational thread. “Sawyer, it seems as if we have some catching up to do. How long will you be in Regina?”
“Just for a week this time. Libby delivers the Mellohawk Lecture at the university on Wednesday, and Angus tells me Taylor has an opening at the Slate Fine Art Gallery on Thursday, so we’ll be able to pack a lot in. The good news is that our firm has a case coming up that will be tried here, and I’m second chair, so as the trial gets closer, Libby and I will be spending more time in Regina.”
The words sparked Zack’s interest. “When does the trial start?”
“May 9th. It’s the Fairbairn case.”
“Whoa,” Zack said. “That’s a big one. Congratulations! Your boss choosing you as second chair is high praise.”
Sawyer has the kind of complexion that flushes easily, and Zack’s compliment clearly both pleased and embarrassed him. “Libby Hogarth and I are both qualified to practise here and in Ontario, so I guess I was the logical choice.”
“Don’t sell yourself short,” Zack said. “The mobility agreement allows Canadian lawyers to practise in any province for one hundred days. Libby could have chosen any lawyer in your firm. She chose you because you were the one she wanted beside her in what’s going to be a challenging case.”
Zack’s compliment brought on another flush for Sawyer, so I jumped in. “What’s it like to work with Libby Hogarth?”
“That’s not an easy question to answer. With Libby, every day is an education,” Sawyer said. “She’s mega-smart. She and Zack have the same skill set. They both think at least five or six moves ahead. They always have a perfectly calibrated narrative for their defence, but what really blows me away is how quickly both Libby and Zack recover when the Crown throws a grenade at their argument. It may have taken them weeks to put their narrative together, but if either of them senses the case is in danger of tanking, they shift gears and move on without missing a beat.”
Zack was clearly taken aback. “That’s a generous assessment, but when did you see me in court?”
“When I was articling at Ireland Leontovich, I used to sneak away whenever I could just to watch you. I know that makes me sound like a fanboy, but I learned a lot from watching you. You’re a great performer in the courtroom. You obviously love the cut and thrust, but I know that if you can get a fair settlement for your client, you never hesitate to step away from the spotlight.” Sawyer lowered his eyes. “I should shut up, but I’ve been waiting to say that for a long time.”
Zack was moved. “Those words were worth waiting for. Thank you.”
The exchange between my husband and my son’s best friend was a graceful coda to our chat. It seemed the time had come to work out the logistics of removing a ten-foot Nova Scotia fir from the family room.
Angus apparently thought so too, but when he rose to leave, Sawyer motioned him to stay. “There’s something I’d like to talk to the four of you about. It has to do with the Jared Delio case.”
“Has something new come up?” I asked.
Sawyer moved from his chair to a place on the floor where he was able to face us all. “Nothing new,” he said. “I just want to know what kind of reception Libby can expect when she steps onto the stage Wednesday night. I’ve followed social media reaction to the announcement that Libby would be delivering the prestigious Mellohawk Lecture and what I’ve seen and heard is disturbing.”
“It is disturbing, it’s also puzzling,” I said. “I’m sure Libby told you she was the second choice. Vera Simon, the newscaster, had been slotted to deliver the Mellohawk Lecture, but at the beginning of December Ms. Simon was arrested for DUI and leaving the scene of an accident. Ed Mariani, the head of the School of Journalism, had to move quickly, and when Libby accepted the invitation, he thought he’d hit pay dirt. But in the weeks after the announcement, it seemed as if he’d stepped on a land mine.”
Sawyer adjusted his horn-rimmed glasses. “Do you have any idea what flipped the script?”
“No, and neither does anyone else. As you know, the three women involved in the sexual assault case against Delio all had ties to Regina. During the trial, Libby’s no-holds-barred cross-examination of them stirred up a lot of anger, especially among women, including me.” I could feel my voice rising. “And that was surprising because Libby Hogarth’s reputation as the go-to lawyer for members of the crème de la crème who’ve committed heinous crimes is well known. Many of us get a kick out of the fact that a lawyer born, raised and educated in Saskatchewan has made it to the top tier.”
“Zack is in the top tier too,” Angus said loyally.
I could feel Zack’s pleasure. “You’re a good son,” he said.
The two of them were smiling like a pair of Cheshire cats. “You’re both right,” I said. “Anyway, when the media started digging, it became clear that sexual abuse was Delio’s modus operandi with women. Given Libby’s record of winning seemingly unwinnable cases, it was not surprising that Jared Delio had asked her to represent him. What did surprise me and many other women was that a prominent feminist like Libby Hogarth accepted Delio’s case. When I asked Zack about it, he said that it was not the lawyer’s role to judge the guilt or innocence of the accused, but to make certain that the law prevailed.”
“And the law did prevail,” Sawyer said. “The judge’s not guilty verdict was handed down over two years ago. Our office assumed that when the trial ended, the brouhaha over Libby’s forceful defence of Delio would end, and it did — at least for the first two years.”
“But the announcement that Libby would be delivering the Mellohawk reignited it.”
“Yes,” Sawyer said. “And most of the activity seems to be centred in Regina. To my knowledge, Jared Delio never set foot in Regina. The trial was held in Toronto, and as we all know, the media there went gaga about every aspect of the trial, right down to the shade and brand of Libby’s nail polish. Now, fast-forward to the recent past. Despite the fact that two of Delio’s accusers were living in Toronto before, during and after the trial, nobody in Toronto gives a crap about Libby giving a speech in Regina dealing with the relationship between community standards and the way the law regarding sexual assault is interpreted in the courts.”
“But Regina is a different story,” Zack continued. “Here the announcement was greeted with hysteria and threats. Does the craziness get to Libby?”
“No,” Sawyer said. “She shrugs it off, and I wish she didn’t. Most of the threats are just the usual garden-variety chest-beating stuff, but there’s one that makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. An email has arrived once a week since the School of Journalism announced that Libby would be delivering the Mellohawk. It’s just one sentence, always in capital letters and boldface: ‘I’M NOT THROUGH WITH YOU YET!’”
“I’m assuming the sender doesn’t include their name?”
Sawyer smiled. “Not unless their name is Amicus Curiae.”
“Friend of the Court,” Zack said. “So that narrows the field to the thousands of lawyers Libby has faced in court during her twenty-five years as a criminal lawyer.”
“And anyone who has watched TV legal dramas since the days when Raymond Burr played Perry Mason,” I said.
Zack raised both eyebrows. “Does that include you, Jo?”
I stroked his hand. “That story is waiting for the right moment to be told, and this isn’t it,” I said. “Sawyer, in Zack’s and my nine years of marriage, like Libby, I’ve learned to accept the fact that hysteria and threats are part of the package. But for me, that single-sentence email that arrives once a week suggests a personal grievance that runs deep.”
“Any ideas about what that grievance might be?” Sawyer said.
“Only one,” I said. “After the Delio decision came down, a number of lies about Libby’s private life made the rounds.”
Sawyer’s voice tightened. “What kind of lies?”
“The kind of lies you’d expect when an attractive female lawyer wins an ‘unwinnable case,’” Zack said. “A rumour that I heard from more than one source was that Libby had sex with the judge in the Delio case to get him onside. After that one made the rounds, the unhinged came out in droves to spin lurid stories about what Libby did to get ahead and stay ahead.”
Sawyer had always been uncommonly even-tempered, but Zack’s words hit a nerve. “That is utter and complete bullshit,” he said, and his voice was loud with outrage.
Pantera, ever faithful, had wedged himself against Zack’s wheelchair, but Sawyer’s outburst roused him, and for the first time ever, our mastiff growled. When Zack reached down and began rubbing his head, Pantera groaned with pleasure and immediately relaxed.
Sawyer was abject. “I am so sorry,” he said, and he reached over and began stroking Pantera’s flank. “I shouldn’t have lost it like that, but I was working at Hogarth & Associates during that trial, and I know the number of hours Libby put into the Delio case.
“I read the presiding judge’s verdict and it did excoriate the testimony of the three women who testified against Delio — not because he and Libby had sex, but because Libby had done her homework. The inconsistencies and misstatements in all three women’s testimonies created reasonable doubt. In presenting her case, Libby simply applied the principles at the root of the justice system: the presumption of innocence until proven guilty and the right of every citizen, no matter how repugnant, to a forceful defence.”
“Libby did her job,” Zack said. “The way she treated the witnesses was in keeping with how the Canadian justice system permits witnesses to be treated. Libby just took advantage of that permissiveness.”
The fire was still in Sawyer’s eyes, but in deference to Pantera, he kept his voice low. “Libby wants that permissiveness to end,” he said. “That’s why those rumours are so cruel and so unfair. The title of Libby’s Mellohawk Lecture is ‘Abracadabra,’ which she tells me is a corruption of the Hebrew ebrah k’dabri. She chose that phrase because it means ‘I will create as I speak.’ The message Libby wants to get across to the audience is that if the victims of sexual assault are going to be treated fairly, it’s up to us to speak out and create a community that understands that rape is an act of violence, that no means no and that a man doesn’t have to prove his masculinity by forcing himself on a woman.”
Zack shifted position in his wheelchair, an unconscious but necessary movement to offset the possibility of pressure ulcers. “And once the climate surrounding sexual assault changes, the interpretation of the law will change.” He turned to Sawyer. “Was Margot Hunter at Ireland Leontovich when you articled there?”
“She was,” Sawyer said. “And she was terrific.”
“She still is,” Angus said. “When the attacks on Libby became so mindlessly vicious that Ed Mariani had to alert the police, Margot launched a counterattack on social media to tell people the truth. Margot put the onus for change squarely on the public, and her argument resonated.
“She pointed out that we all know that in a jury trial, the defendant has elected to be judged by their peers who, in theory at least, reflect the standards of the community. If a defendant chooses to be tried by a judge, the judge has to reach a decision on the basis of the law which again, in theory, supports the standards of the community.”
Leah had been quiet, her dark intelligent eyes following the conversation, but Angus’s words struck a chord and now she jumped in. “So, if we want the law to be applied fairly to perpetrators of sexual assault, we have to change the climate of the community,” she said. “And for years, the community has judged victims of rape by factors that should be irrelevant: the length of a woman’s skirt, her personal style, the makeup she wears and her past history of sexual activity.” She paused. “It’s time someone gave that speech, and Sawyer, Angus and I will be front row and centre cheering Libby on.”
Sawyer gave Pantera a final head rub, and said, “Time to move along. One more thing — Jo and Zack, if it’s okay with you, we’ll take care of the driving tonight. The wind seems to be tapering off, but at this time of year . . .” He shrugged. “We thought the three of us could take Leah’s wagon and one of your cars to Margot’s, drop you off and pick you up when you’re ready to come home. Two cars — three extra shovellers and zero chances of anybody spending the night stuck in a snowbank.”
Zack gave me a quick glance. When I nodded, he said, “Offer accepted with gratitude. It’ll be great for Jo and me just to enjoy ourselves without worrying about the drive home.”
Angus was beaming. “This year is off to such a great start. Libby Hogarth is delivering a speech saying what needs to be said. Sawyer is back in town — at least for a while — and Leah and I are exactly where we hoped we’d be fourteen years ago when we heard the Oracle’s words to Neo about being the One.”
Leah drew closer and finished the thought for him. “Being the One is like being in love,” she said. “No one can tell you you’re in love. You just know it through and through, balls to bones.”
It was a moment of such intimacy that Zack, Sawyer and I lowered our eyes. When the silence became awkward, Angus kissed Leah’s hair. “This is a conversation to be continued later,” he said.
“Right,” Leah said. “And the sooner we get this tree out of here, the sooner we can pick up where we left off.”
* * *
After a quick round of goodbyes, Leah, Sawyer and Angus carried the tree out to Leah’s station wagon, and Zack and I watched, hand in hand, as they tied the Nova Scotia fir securely to the roof rack and headed for the depot where, as part of the city’s Tree Cycle program, our still lovely but weary evergreen would be composted.
“That was a lot of fun,” Zack said. “And I like that quote from The Matrix: Being the One is like being in love. No one can tell you. You just know it.”
“Through and through,” I said. “Balls to bones.”
“And that’s the way it is for us,” Zack said. “Hey, we have a nice romantic vibe going. Let’s make the most of it.”
“I’m way ahead of you. This morning, I changed our bed and put on the Portuguese flannel sheets Margot and Brock gave us for our anniversary.”
“Say no more,” Zack said, turning his chair and heading for our bedroom.
