Island Girl Read Free Page B

always been old, which must have been easier than coming to it the way I did—head on and without warning.
    He nodded and moved his bike over so we could stand together, watching the harbor come closer and closer. The skyline has changed dramatically over the past few years. More office towers, more condos—nothing that means anything to me. I prefer the view at night when the lake reflects the lights and the city looks like a fairyland from my bedroom window.
    “Gonna be a hot one,” Benny said.
    I smiled and turned my back on the city, watching the Island recede while he made small talk. Special on pork chops at Sobeys. Another damn rock festival coming. And finally, “Poor Mike lost another bicycle. Kids dumped it in the Eastern Gap. Someone ought to do something.”
    “Indeed,” I said, not mentioning my thoughts about my own bike and the watery graveyard at the bottom of the gap. Some things you kept to yourself on the Island.
    The Ongiara began to slow. The deckhands readied the ropes for docking and Benny raised the kickstand on his bike. “You shopping today?”
    “Not today.” I left it at that, joining the pack heading down the ramp before he got his bike rolling. No one needed to know why I was in the city. Not even me.
    I stood for a moment at the traffic lights on Front Street, checking my notebook, reading again the first few lines. Find Liz. Go to 100 King Street. Look up Mark Bernier.
    King Street wasn’t far from the harbor and I found the address in under fifteen minutes. But since when were community legal clinics located in bank towers? Worried I’d taken down the address wrong, I ventured over to the directory and breathed a sigh of relief when I saw the sign for Fleming, Hitchcock, Romney and Bernier, Barristers and Solicitors. Thirtieth floor.
    So much for community legal work. And I couldn’t help smiling as I walked into the elevator, wondering if Mark ever missed his principles.
    I met Mark in 1979 at a Save the Island Homes rally. I was with Eric then, the one with the blue eyes who would be Grace’s father in a year but never know it. Mark was big—six foot four—with a handshake that made my teeth rattle and an openness that took me off guard. Both Eric and I liked him right away, and Liz adored him, but she was only four and based her judgment solely on the fact that he always brought treats, so hers was not a fair assessment.
    Even then, he spoiled that girl, but I was pleased when he kept coming to the meetings, grateful he was there the day Eric took the ferry into the city for the last time, and shocked he didn’t run for the next one after I confessed in a drunken slur that I was pregnant.
    Mark stayed with me through everything. The pregnancy, the birth, those first horrible weeks, trying to keep Liz from lugging that baby around like it was her own. I was surprised to find him still with us when Grace turned one. I’m not sure when we decided we were officially living together, but if you were to ask Mark, he’d say it was the day Grace was born.
    A pretty redhead looked up from the reception desk and smiled. “Can I help you?”
    “I’m looking for Mark Bernier.”
    “Do you have an appointment?” She frowned when I shook my head. “I’m afraid Mr. Bernier is tied up in meetings for the day—”
    “Tell him his ex-wife is here. And tell him she’s pissed.”
    She was on her feet at once. “I’ll be right back.”
    I have never been anyone’s wife, but I knew the line would work better than, “A situation has come up and I could use his advice because I’m very confused right now, but I can’t afford a lawyer and I’m hoping he’ll be a sweetie and help me out, you know?”
    Sure enough, she was back within minutes, escorting me along gleaming hardwood to an office furnished with leather chairs, a rosewood desk, and modern art, undoubtedly expensive, on the walls.
    Mark looked up from that desk as I stepped past the secretary. “Ruby, good to see