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.We were standing around the crib, me and some of the other sisters, while he gave the last rites.”Was this what Normie had seen? People in black robes standing around a dying baby? And another child in the room, crying.“Sister, what goes on during the last rites? What does the priest do?” I turned to Monsignor O’Flaherty.He gestured towards Sister Theodora to reply.“This time, when the baby died — his name was Timmy — the ritual of extreme unction was burned into my mind because we all loved that poor little baby.The priest anointed his eyes, his ears, mouth, hands, and feet, and then we said goodbye and pulled his blanket up over his face.”The man touching the baby under his blanket in Normie’s vision.Not abuse, but the last rites of death.“Beau wandered in and saw this, and began crying and screaming.It took a long time for him to come around again.But eventually he did.“He began to be a regular little helper about the place.Couldn’t do enough for us.He was adopted shortly after that, by the Delaneys.A match made in heaven.How they doted on him! He blossomed under their care.He was a tiny, undersized little boy when he came to us.You wouldn’t know it, he’s such a big man now.Children don’t thrive when they’re neglected, when they’re not given love and affection.But we loved him when he came here! Then of course he was all set once he went with the Delaneys.And he grew to the size his genetic makeup intended for him! There are studies showing the same phenomenon over and over again.Anyway, Beau never gave the Delaneys a moment’s grief, at least not that I ever heard.They moved to Halifax just before he started school.Well, you know the rest.He buckled right down, became an A student, the perfect son.He went on to university and law school.Once in a while, his courtroom exploits make the news up here, and we love to read about him, especially when he’s defending the less fortunate, those who never get a break.It’s not surprising that Beau would have an affinity for the underdog.So there you have it.A life well lived, after a disastrous beginning.”Chapter 20(Monty)“You and I are going to talk about Robby Tompkins,” I told Beau on Monday when I had seated myself in his luxurious office overlooking Halifax Harbour.I could see him making a conscious effort not to react, but his eyes went to the door.Yes, it was firmly closed.He turned and gazed out the window at the magnificent view of the water.Then he took a deep breath and faced me.“The whole time I was representing Adam Gower, I was barely able to stomach it.I couldn’t look the Hubley or Tompkins families in the eye.Gower just didn’t give a damn.Anything would have been better than that.‘The other guy made me do it.’ ‘I didn’t mean to aim at her head.’ ‘I was drunk.’ Anything but ‘yeah, I did it, so what are you going to do for me?’ All those months of that insufferable little shit, leading up to the trial.Then sitting in court hearing about what became of the victims.Scott Hubley, of course, lost his life at the age of seventeen.Cathy Tompkins was a top student in high school.Her dream was to be a nurse at the IWK Children’s Hospital.But she knew she’d have to earn some money before going for her nursing degree, because the family couldn’t afford it.So she was working every hour she could while attending school.After the shooting, she was in a coma for several days.Suffered paralysis and irreversible brain damage.Confined to a wheelchair.Pretty face twisted, like that of an old woman with a stroke.Her moods would swing from weeping depression to screaming rage.Life over.And everybody in the community hated my guts because I was helping the guy who did this to her.Well, you know what that’s like.It never used to bother me.I was on a crusade, I was the champion of the despised, I defended people other decent human beings wouldn’t be in the same room with.But it got to me this time.Anyway, as you know, I got him off.He went out west to look for work.And I couldn’t show my face in Blockhouse, Lunenburg County, again.“Then, in November of the following year, I got a call from Gower.He’d had enough of working construction in Fort McMurray; he was coming home.And he’d got himself into some kind of scrape out there in the oil patch, so he left in a hurry.Could I help him again? He was here in Halifax, calling from a pay phone at the bus station on Almon Street.I didn’t want him in the office, didn’t want word to get out that he was back in the province.There were rumours that he might be returning, but that was nothing new; there had been rumours before.I didn’t know what to do about him but I said I’d pick him up, maybe drop him off at a youth hostel or something.I left the office and didn’t mention Gower’s name to anyone, just said I had to go out.So I pulled up outside the bus station and waited.He got into the car, said he wanted to go back to Blockhouse.I reminded him there were death threats against him — and against me, for that matter — and I pleaded with him not to go there.Not that I really cared whether somebody shot him in the head [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]