What Happened to Ivy (12 page)
“Mr. Burke?”
“Yes.”
“Mr. Burke, a witness has come forward who says he saw you in the water with your daughter. I’m afraid we’re going to have to take you in for questioning.”
Chapter 30
Dad goes willingly. Mom follows in the van. I’m fine with that. Sort of. I mean, I could have gone too, if I wanted, but I don’t need to be part of whatever comes next.
I finish cleaning up what Dad started, disposing of damaged plant material, and raking level the ground closest to the house. I already have ideas for how we should build steps to the door – stone, I think – and what would grow well around them.
It’s funny. When Mom first made me take on the weeding a couple of years ago and got me to re-edge the beds, I hated doing it. But I don’t mind any of it now. The garden is one place I actually don’t mind being alone. Alone with the
bi-yee fars. Eep eep.
I straighten up the bird feeder, refill it, then I take the clippers to the back garden, and snip an armful of sunflowers –
Helianthus.
I carry them across the handlebars of my bike to the cemetery and lay them on my sister’s grave.
“Ivy,” I tell her, “it’s not better here without you.”
Nearby, a new gravesite is being dug. The air smells earthy and damp.
“And Ivy, I’m sorry – about stuff I did. Especially about the worms.”
The morning light casts shadows over the name carved into Ivy’s simple headstone. A different light from what I’ve seen here before.
I don’t know what’s going to happen next. I guess Dad will be charged. With something. And I guess there’ll be a trial. But will any judge or jury be able to figure out better than I can what should happen next?
I don’t know.
Acknowledgments
Thanks first and foremost to my steadfast partner-in-life, Peter Carver, who read pages and read them again, offered his feedback and encouragement, listened endlessly as I mulled aloud, counseled me on editorial, strategic, and emotional matters, and tolerated hours and years of my preoccupation with countless versions of this story. Without his unflagging confidence in me when I was in danger of losing it completely, I don’t know that this project would have ever become the novel it now is.
Thanks to writer-friends who read the entire manuscript, in some cases many times, and provided invaluable feedback and encouragement – Lena Coakley, Hadley Dyer, Paula Wing, Ted Staunton, Rob Morphy, Nan Forler, and Heather Smith. Thanks also to my daughter Kelly Stinson and my grandson Michael Greenlaw who also read the manuscript and offered new and helpful ways of thinking about the characters and the situations they faced.
Thanks to another writer-friend, Joanne Jaques, who introduced me to Noel Daley when I needed him most, and to Noel Daley himself. During years when drafts of the novel took the outcome of Ivy’s death many months (and in some drafts years) beyond where it has ended up, he provided countless willing hours on the phone with me, sharing his knowledge of the legal system and how it works. I hope someday to write a book that will begin to make use of all the insights he so generously shared.
Thanks also to Janet Barclay, Bill Millar, Richard Ungar, Jim Kitchens, and Mike Thomas.
And thanks to the great team at Second Story Press – Margie Wolfe, Carolyn Jackson, Melissa Kaita, and Emma Rodgers – for their belief in me and this book and for their help in making it what it is. Thanks also to my editor, Jonathan Schmidt.
Finally, but of no small significance, thanks to the Ontario Arts Council which provided financial support at crucial stages during the writing of this book.
About the Author
Kathy Stinson grew up in Toronto, sorted mail, taught school and waited tables before figuring out, while at home with her two children, that what she really wanted to do was write. In the years since, she has published more than 30 titles – picture books, young adult novels, historical fiction, short stories, biography, and other non-fiction. Many of her books have won awards, including
101 Ways to Dance
, which was a CLA YA Book of the Year nominee. Mother, stepmother, and grandmother, CNIB and CODE volunteer and member of CANSCAIP and TWUC, Kathy currently lives in Rockwood, Ontario with her partner, Peter Carver and their doodle, Keisha.
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