Bedtime Story (74 page)

“I don’t know,” I said. “I think it will take them a while to find …” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word ‘bodies.’ I thought about the room and how it had looked as we left. “I think it’ll be okay. Lazarus died in his bed. Burned. And Cora … I think they’ll think she had a heart attack. Maybe she did.”

“But the gun?”

I shrugged. There was nothing we could do. There was the gun, and my blood on the floor beside the bed. But there were also all the symbols, and Took’s blood, everywhere. It would be a mess to sort out.

“If we’re lucky, the whole place will burn down.”

I was about to tell her not to worry when my telephone rang, its light flashing from the cup-holder closest to the driver’s seat. Jacqui must have brought it with her.

I looked at her, glanced at the clock on the dashboard. Too late for anyone to be calling.

“Hello?” I said, holding the phone carefully, easing off on the gas.

“Chris? It’s Carol Corvin.” Her voice was measured, as if she were struggling to hold something in. “Is David with you? Is he …”

“He’s … here,” I said carefully, well aware of the significance of the word.

“Can you put him on? Matthew—” Her voice broke, and her next words came out in sobs. “Matthew wants to talk to him.”

I handed the phone back between the seats. “David,” I said gently. “It’s for you.”

He was slow in taking it from me. In the mirror I could see the confusion in his face, the wariness.

“Hello?” he said tentatively.

Listening, his face broke into a smile, and I could see tears in the corners of his eyes.

I could feel them in mine.

“Chris, what …?” Jacqui asked.

I shook my head, and reaching across the space between the seats, took her hand in mine.

I’ve been living with
Bedtime Story
—in various forms and stages of development—for more than half a decade now. In that time, I’m sure that errors and mistakes have been made: I’m responsible for those. I cop to it freely.

Those things that went right, though, I owe to a tremendous group of people.

First, to my family, which somehow seems to keep growing: births, marriages, remarriages, domestic arrangements … To all the Eddys, the Wiersemas, the Dusmanns, and the various other permutations—I cannot thank you enough.

Special thanks, of course, are due the moms in my life: my mother Helen Eddy, and my mother-in-law June Dusmann. I cannot express my gratitude for the support and their enthusiasm over the years. And to my grandmother, Phyllis Eddy, one of the people I most admire in the world.

To my mind,
Before I Wake
was a story about mothers and daughters;
Bedtime Story
is a novel about fathers and sons. With that in mind, I want to give my deepest thanks to some of the men who have shaped my life. My father, Joe Wiersema, who gave me life and a middle initial, also gave me a love of reading: his were the first “grown-up” books I read, and I never looked back. To say that he has always been one of my biggest supporters would be a grave understatement. My brothers, Dave and Jon, are writ large in my soul. We’re not the closest of siblings, but I would die for either of them. My stepfather, Tom Baldwin, is both smart and wise, and makes my mother happy (which is both wise and smart). My father-in-law, Rolf Dusmann, either welcomed me into his family, or tried to scare me out of it, with a white-knuckle Volkswagen ride which haunts my dreams. He still scares the hell out of me, and I love him dearly. My brother-in-law, Terry Dusmann, has always been one of the strongest supporters of my writing, and he vows he’s my “one phone call” should I ever get arrested in the GVRD.

And my thanks to one teacher this time, Mr. Siver (“like a diver, not a river”), who on the first day of grade five introduced a classroom of malcontents to the idea of Jungian archetypes. One of us was listening, and it shaped my life.

My life, and writing, have also been shaped by twenty years as a bookseller. I’ve been blessed to have spent the bulk of that time working for, and with, Mel Bolen and Samantha Holmes, who have been nothing but supportive and encouraging. I go to work, every day, at Bolen Books, with the finest booksellers in the country, and good friends who keep me (relatively) down to earth. Being a bookseller also means being a part of a larger community of like-minded rebels who recognize, and have given their lives to, the written word. B.C. is graced with the best booksellers and sales reps I know, and I am truly blessed to have you all as friends. Thank you, always, for fighting the good fight.

The actual writing of a novel is a long, solitary process. There are a couple of people, though, who provided invaluable assistance during that lonely time. The good doctor—and writer—Kevin Patterson once again offered crucial medical guidance, and my thanks go out to Chris Houston for his invaluable support.

Once the manuscript was off my desk, it went first to three people whose eyes I have come to depend upon: Cori Dusmann, James Grainger, and Colin Holt. Saint Jimmy is the sort of man every writer should be lucky enough to have in his corner: never short of opinions, with a keen eye and a sense of vision (the two should always go hand in hand). Colin has become essential to my survival over the last few years: he not only weighs in on the words, but he has a knack for planning and a pragmatic efficiency that has rescued me more than once.

I’ll come back to Cori.

As the manuscript went out into the wider world, it became clear, once again, that I have been fortunate enough to align myself with, frankly, the best in the business. I’m represented by the McDermid Agency, and my thanks go out to Martha Magor, Monica Pacheco, and Chris Bucci. My deepest appreciation, however, I extend to Anne McDermid, who is less an agent than a force of nature.

A special thanks to Lisa and Gregory Thomas-Tench, and the team at Redwerks.org, who are responsible for the redesign of
robertjwiersema.com
: drinks are definitely owed. And drinks also to Michael Holt, who held my hand through my early forays into the online world, and who has been a rock of support.

The whole team at Random House Canada is also without peer. From people like Karen Blair, who has been one of my biggest supporters from the beginning, to Cassandra Sadek and Julie Forrest in the online department, to Leah Springate, who made
Bedtime Story
a beautiful object, inside and out, I’m really in the best of hands. My thanks go out to Craig Pyette, who edited this book both bravely and skilfully, to my publishers Anne Collins and Marion Garner, and to Louise Dennys. My publicist, Sharon Klein, is simply the best, and, as such, is the only person—other than my grandmother—who gets away with calling me “Robbie.” And special thanks to Kendall Anderson, who was there at the beginning, and whose influence carries clearly through these finished pages.

The act of writing acknowledgements like this is something of a double-edged sword: it provides an opportunity to publicly thank the people who have made a difference, but it also underscores just how insufficient words can be.

Nowhere is that more clear than when it comes to Cori and Xander.

Xander is eleven now, the same age as David in this novel (I’ll leave the psychological ramifications of that—and so much else—for someone else to decipher), and he inspires and amazes me every single day. He is also supportive, and an earnest champion, and he knows now that dreams come true, but not free.

And Cori. This book, once again, owes everything to her. She is not only a fearsome reader and editor, she is also my inspiration. She is the reason I write, and has been now for more than two decades. These words belong as much to her as they do me. Thank you, Cor. From the bottom of my heart.

I would like to gratefully acknowledge the financial support I received from the Canada Council for the Arts, which assisted immeasurably in the writing of
Bedtime Story
.

R
OBERT
J W
IERSEMA
is a bookseller and reviewer, who contributes regularly to the
Vancouver Sun
, the
Globe and Mail
, the
Ottawa Citizen
and numerous other newspapers. His bestselling novel,
Before I Wake
, was a
Globe and Mail
Best Book. Wiersema is also the event coordinator for Bolen Books in Victoria, B.C., where he lives with his wife, Cori Dusmann, and their son, Xander.