Final Act by Dianne Yetman (best free ebook reader .TXT) 📕

kitchen table gazing out the patio doors at the autumn leaves; the faint smell of decay drifted in the open kitchen window.  Five days had passed since she flushed the drugs; six days since Jeffrey’s funeral; six days since she had seen her lover.  She jumped at the sound of her sister’s voice.

“Catherine”, Nora said “you’re shivering.”  She leaned over the kitchen sink and closed the window.  “Let me get you a sweater.  The last thing you need right now is a cold.”

“I’m fine Nora, really I am.  I don’t need a sweater and I don’t need the window closed, the air helps clear my head.”

“Okay.” She lifted the window. “Let me make some fresh tea.  I could use one filled with lots of sugar and cream.”

Catherine shook her head.  “I can’t drink anymore.  I’ve had three cups already.”  I need you to leave me alone, that’s what I need. 

She watched as Nora filled the kettle.  My only sister, the youngest of the brood, stands in my kitchen, rattling in the cupboards, and endlessly rattling conversational nonsense.  Go home, Nora, go home. The children have left and so should you.

“The police called this morning to set up a time to meet with you.  I took the liberty of confirming for 10:00 tomorrow morning.”

Nausea rippled through her intestines.  “Yes, that will be fine.”

Nora brought her tea over to the table.

“I am grateful for all you have done, Nora, but it’s time for you to go home.  You’ve put your own life on hold long enough.  I’ll be fine by myself now.”

She watched the struggle on her sister’s face.  Happy at the thought of returning home and concern she would be perceived by others as cruel for leaving her so soon.

“I don’t know I would feel right about it Catherine.   It’s so soon for you to be alone.”

“No it’s not. I’m off the medication now so you don’t have to worry about me stumbling around in a daze. You’re only a phone call away, four hours by car, and one hour by plane.” She could see the idea of freedom and home taking root.  “Why don’t you take the afternoon for yourself?  Go shopping. I’m going to rest before Susan, Alexis and Eleanor arrive.”

Nora nodded.  “Louise put together a cold meal for us before she left and there’s plenty of finger food in the freezer for our guests.  I could pick up a fresh salad at the market and a good bottle of wine.”

“That would be very helpful.”

“Okay, it’s a sacrifice, but I’ll go shopping.” She took a long swallow of tea, went over to the sink and rinsed her mug, chatting away.

“I better go compose those thank you notes I was going to do this afternoon.  If you’re resting, I’ll leave them on the dining room table for you to sign.”

“Thanks.”

Alone.  Touch and go, wasn’t sure if she would leave, and don’t know what I would have done if she didn’t.  I suppose I could have passed it off as an unexpected visit rather than a pre-arranged one.  It was important that she get her words right so while she waited, she rehearsed her speech over and over again.

An hour later she tried to focus on what the voice was saying but the cold heaviness pushing through her veins wouldn’t allow her. The voice was fading.  She tried to move but couldn’t.  Sorry, Nora.  I shouldn’t have sent you away. Please come home. She fought against slipping into unconsciousness.  Her body felt swollen, weighted down with molten lead.

The fist broke her nose with one blow.  A handful of hair was torn from her scalp as the killer pulled her from the chair.  Kicks bruised her kidneys and she heard the crack of her ribs.

Her fading vision barely caught the flash of the knife.  She felt the molten lead pour from her body.  Its heat burned as it flowed from her nose – wet, hot, rancid.  She heard glass smashing and the whoosh of the knife as it ripped through the cushions.  She didn’t hear the knife land on the floor, or the front door open, she was unconscious.

***

Nora trounced up Spring Garden Road to Jennifer’s, a craft store she couldn’t pass up visiting whenever she came to the city.  Thirty minutes later she put a cable knit sweater into her bag, glanced at her watch and hightailed it down the street towards the market.  There was just enough time to pick up the salad and wine, grab a cab back and be back before their guests were due to arrive.

Descending the long hill towards the Maritime Centre, she jumped at the blast of car horns. Turning around, she looked in horror as she saw a city bus, going too fast for the left hand turn, slam into a parked car, flip on its side, and slide down the hill.

The friction of metal on pavement filled the air with smoke.  She heard the screams of the passengers on the bus as it sped past her. Oncoming cars veered up on the sidewalk blasting their horns to warn the pedestrians.

Her eyes remained riveted on the bus’s collision path.  Horror-struck, she watched as it took on a life of its own, flying through the intersection, taking curb, finally coming to a stop, laying on its side, like a broken toy, halfway up the concrete steps in front the of Centre.

The silence following the noise of the impact was as ominous as the sound of the bus’s screaming descent.  She pulled out her cell and began to run.  Dialling 911, she found herself unable to speak and hung up.   Reaching the bottom of the hill, she heard the first of the sirens.  She wasn’t sure how long she stood and watched the rescue but when the last ambulance pulled away, she headed for Catherine’s on foot.  No cabs were available.

Forty minutes later, she turned onto her street and saw Eleanor step from a cab parked in front of the house.  She