The Flock - Mattie Saunders Series Book 5

Mattie awoke far too early to the sounds of her houseguest downstairs; toilet flushing, water running, refrigerator door opening, closing, cupboards banging. There was no point lying there brooding about Simon and wondering what Fawn was searching for, so she decided to get up. Maybe some gossip about Hollywood celebrities would distract her.

Besides, the interview with the board of governors of the university for the job of Head of the Biology Department was only four days away and she hadn’t even begun to prepare. Mattie knew of at least one report where the findings had been suppressed at the behest of corporate funders. Who knew what else those bastards were condoning to appease private, business or government contributions? She may not have any more birds to care for but that didn’t mean she didn’t still love birds. The Head of the Department would have a lot more influence on their behalf than a Professor of Ornithology. The problem was she first had to convince them she was the person for the job before exposing them for compromising scientific research with their blind pursuit of the corporate dollar.

Mattie pulled on shorts and a t-shirt and headed downstairs.

“Damn!” There was no coffee. Simon had run out and since he could pick a cup on his drive to work had forgotten to buy more for home. She grabbed the keys to the Kona EV and headed for the door. Morning coffee was an imperative.

“Hey?” A pale Fawn came out of the downstairs bathroom.

“Are you alright?” Mattie said

“There’s no coffee.”

“Blame it on your inconsiderate brother. Come on, I’ll buy you breakfast.”

Fawn hesitated. “Can you bring me back a coffee?”

“Anything to eat? Muffin, breakfast sandwich?”

Fawn blanched and headed back into the bathroom.

When Mattie returned, Fawn was sitting at the kitchen table in her pyjamas texting intensely.

“Thanks.” She sipped the lukewarm beverage then continued, fingers flying over the tiny keyboard.

Mattie made another pot with a pound of the French Roast she’d got while at Starbucks. She brought her cup to the table.

“I thought you were setting the world on fire in Hollywood and suddenly you’re here?”

Fawn shrugged and looked down at her hands. “I needed a break. It’s okay, isn’t it?”

“Of course. I’m really glad to see you.” Something was wrong. Besides looking like shit, which was totally out of character, Fawn wasn’t her ebullient self. Mattie could wait. No, she couldn’t.

“What’s wrong, Fawn?”

“I’m pregnant.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

It took a moment to process, then Mattie stood up. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She headed for the back door, refilling her cup on the way.

It was only mid-morning and already hot. Leo had come through his tortoise door onto the secured back porch and was sunning himself, appendages extended, on the torrid decking. The sky looked seared, the blueberry fields in the adjacent farm hung limp. The seasons were shifting, starting later and lasting longer. Mattie had done research on that very topic and how it created havoc on the food supply migrating birds counted on. A day in late August with a temperature in the high thirties confirmed her findings.

Mattie was shocked, angry, and disappointed. How could anyone here and now have an unwanted pregnancy? Why would someone as smart as Fawn do something as stupid as allowing herself to become pregnant? Unless that’s what she wanted. Why would she want to? Mattie didn’t even want to consider that scenario.

She tried to tell herself she didn’t care, but she did. It wasn’t just that Fawn was talented and had an amazing future ahead of her. That didn’t matter. In the context of family, they were sisters-in-law. The realization rocked her.

Where was Simon when she needed him? Then again, maybe it was better he wasn’t here, at least for this. What if he didn’t agree with Fawn’s decision? Mattie would have to take sides. She hadn’t had much experience with family, but something told her that wouldn’t be a good thing.

The best thing was not to judge, except she’d already done that, but only internally, thank goodness. The other best thing would be to keep her mouth shut. This was an out-of-context situation, one of those things that to understand you’d have to experience.

What Fawn decided to do would impact the rest of her life. How Mattie handled it would affect their relationship for just as long. Well, she’d wanted a distraction. She drained her coffee and headed back inside.

Fawn was texting. She put down her phone and looked at Mattie. What started as a challenge quickly disintegrated as her bottom lip began to tremble. Mattie came around the table and put her arm around the younger woman. Fawn grabbed her around the waist and sobbed into her stomach. It was awkward. Mattie disengaged and sat at the table.

“I messed up,” Fawn said.

“You’re right about that. Now, what do you want to do about it?”

“I can’t have a baby. It would ruin everything.”

“Do you want to have an abortion?” Surprisingly, the word sounded distasteful to Mattie, somewhere between an obscenity and a blasphemy. She marked it to consider later and pushed it to the back of her consciousness.

“I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Yes, I do.”

“What about the father?” Mattie wasn’t sure he should even be a consideration.

Fawn rolled her eyes. “Forget about the father, okay?”

She was getting her attitude back. Mattie took it as a good sign.

“Will you help me, Mattie?”

Mattie thought of her own mother: same age, same condition, significantly worse circumstances. Why hadn’t Louise had an abortion? She added it to her “things to talk to mom about” list.

“Yes.”

Fawn started to cry again, but Mattie didn’t offer more reassurance or hugs. She would do what was necessary to help her with this decision, but she wasn’t condoning it.

Fawn yawned. “I’m already exhausted and I’ve only been up a couple of hours.”

“Go back to bed,” Mattie said. “I’ll do some research and we’ll talk later.”

Mattie booted up her laptop and was assailed by new and unanswered emails. Two were flagged urgent; one from the university and another from Blake Chisholm. Nothing from Simon.

The Prime Minister was calling for calm in the Nova Scotia lobster war, but it appeared nobody was listening. Two boats owned by members of the Mi’kmaq First Nations had been burned to the waterline at the dock where they were moored. Now Indigenous fishers were occupying the wharf to prevent any more destruction of their property. They’d constructed a barricade to prevent anyone from accessing it, but they weren’t the only ones whose boats were tied up there.

Mattie watched the live news stream of two groups of angry men separated by four apprehensive-looking RCMP officers. This was the situation Simon was walking into. What did he imagine he could do other than get himself killed? And where was he? The flight to Halifax via Toronto took seven hours. Add a couple more to disembark, clear the airport and get to the Sipekne'katik reserve and he should have arrived several hours ago.

Her cell phone chimed. It was that obnoxious reporter. Maybe he knew something about Simon?

“Hello.”

“Hey, Mattie Saunders. Long time, no talk.” The last time they’d spoken Mattie had given him an exclusive on her Mexican experience including being kidnapped by corrupt cops, and the murder of a migrant woman by cartel members. In return, he promised to back off questioning why she wasn’t involved in Wendy Walters’ election campaign insinuating the candidate was embarrassed her chief advisor, Simon, was partnered with a non-Indigenous woman. It was reverse discrimination with a twist, but just the kind of issue that put a candidate off-message. Mattie had done it for Simon, but she was still hurting and holding a grudge against Walters.

The friendly greeting was a façade, a technique Blake Chisholm used to get you to let down your guard. It didn’t work with Mattie who trusted no one except for the few people she loved and then only after they’d proved themselves worthy over time.

“What do you want?”

“I’m fine. How are you?”

Mattie waited.

“Friendly as always,” Chisholm said. “Are you close to your computer?”

“Yes.”

“I’m sending you an email. Click on the attachment and let me know what you think?

Ping!

Mattie clicked on the attachment. “What the fuck?”

The photograph was of Mattie and Inez flanked by the two Peace Brigade International organizers who held a banner that was draped in front of them. The banner read Canadian mining companies in violation of human rights.

Mattie remembered the moment; the last-minute picture was taken while an anxious driver waited to get her back to the hotel. She never even took the time to check out what the banner said, assuming it was a generic PBI message.

“Where’d you get the picture, Blake?”

“How about I ask the questions?”

Mattie disconnected. Seconds later her cell phone chimed.

“Okay,” Blake said. “Our friend Inez sent it to me along with a press release detailing your support of Peace Brigade International’s campaign against Canadian mining interests in Honduras. I didn’t realize you also actively supported the rights of Indigenous peoples?”

Mattie was cautious. Anything she said, Blake would use.

“What’s the press release say?”

“Rhetoric about Canadian companies failing to ensure the protection of natural areas and water sources vital for human consumption. Blah, blah, blah, let’s see, oh yeah, they impose limits on citizen participation and contradict provisions for environmental conservation.”

This was a non-story. There had to be more.

“There’s this one other thing maybe you’d like to comment on?”

Here it comes.

“It seems a significant amount of financing for these open-pit mines is coming from Soames International, the family trust your half-sister controls.”

“And?”

“I’m thinking a sibling rivalry angle. One sister wants to defile the planet the other wants to save it?”

“No comment.”

“That’s exactly what Ann-Louise said.”

“You’ve talked to her?”

“Her media flak. The CEO of one of the largest concentrations of personal wealth on the planet doesn’t stoop to talk to someone as lowly as a journalist–yet. But she will,” Chisholm said, “and so will you.”

“Don’t count on it.” Mattie disconnected.

She wasn’t worried about the consequences of the story, just how this misadventure in Honduras would affect her relationship with Ann-Louise. Mattie had been set up. The entire enterprise to get her down there had been to embarrass her half-sister. Ann tried to warn her, but Mattie had been too–what, arrogant, self-centred, stupid to heed it? She must be furious.

Mattie was formulating an apology in her mind as she punched in Ann’s number then stopped to do a quick internet search to assess the damage.

“Oh, no.” It was worse than Mattie could have imagined. Pacific Peace Brigade had a sophisticated communications network. The story was all over social media and trending on major news feeds worldwide.

“What’s wrong?” Fawn was awake from her nap. “Is there any more coffee?” She sat at the table. “What did you find out?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

Mattie slammed down the lid of the laptop and slid it across the table. “Type in abortion clinics Vancouver and check it out yourself. I’ve got a call to make.”

CHAPTER EIGHT

Mattie called Ann’s private cell number.

“I can’t talk, Mattie. I’m just going into a meeting with my key people to discuss damage control.”

“Ann, I’m sorry. I had no idea–”

“Yes, you did, I warned you, but for whatever reason, you chose to ignore it.”

“I’m sorry for the embarrassment this has caused you.”

“Maybe next time listen.”

“Ann, what can I do to fix this?”

“Nothing,” Ann said. “And I mean nothing.”

“Okay.”

“Don’t talk to the press, don’t defend yourself on social media, do nothing. Understand?”

“Yes.”

“I’ve got to go.”

“Can you call me this afternoon?” Mattie wanted to explain like there was anything to explain.

“No. I have a meeting with the Board of Directors to tell them our strategy for dealing with this public relations nightmare.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’ll call you tonight. Remember what I said.”

“Do nothing.”

“Right.” Ann disconnected.

Mattie punched her forehead with her fist. Stupid, arrogant, selfish; one punch for every character flaw. Why hadn’t she listened to Ann? The woman had an intelligence network that was second only to major world powers and probably better in her specific areas of interest. She likely suspected what Inez was up to but diplomatically deferred the decision to Mattie. Mattie’s response had been to bristle at the inclination of being told what to do. Why had she responded that way when she knew her half-sister cared for her and wouldn’t do anything that wasn’t in her best interest? On the other hand, Mattie had just shown the opposite wasn’t true.

Her cell phone chimed. It was Jane Wilcox, her boss at the university. They say bad things come in threes, might as well get it over with.

“What did you think you were doing in Honduras?” Wilcox said without as much as how are you?

“I was set up, Jane.”

“Setup or not, the board of governors takes a dim view of having a leftist radical head one of their departments, especially when she comes out against one of the university’s most generous patrons.”

The Soames Family Trust contributed to the University of British Columbia? Of course, they did. Could this get any worse? Mattie punched herself in the forehead again.

“As I said, I was set up.”

“Ironically, this just might work in your favour. Why didn’t you say Ann-Louise Soames was your half-sister?”

“I thought the job offer was about performance, not rich relatives?” Mattie didn’t like where this conversation was going.

Wilcox guffawed. “Of course, it is, but it doesn’t hurt to be well connected.”

“Right now, I’d say my half-sister and I are disconnected.”

“Smooth it over on your end, and I’ll fix it here,” Wilcox said. “I sent you a list of questions you’re likely to be asked. Have you reviewed them?”

“Yes.” Mattie hadn’t even opened the email.

“Do you want to come by my office for a practice run?”

“No.”

“You’re sure? I’m going out on a limb advocating on your behalf, Mattie, don’t let me down.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“Okay. The interview is at 1:00 p.m., Monday. Be there a half hour early in case any of the board want to introduce themselves before the interview,” Wilcox said. “Drop by my office after and tell me how it went.”

“I will. Thanks for your support, Jane.”

Jane disconnected and not a moment too soon. There was something about the woman that made Mattie want to tell her to fuck off, despite everything she was doing for her, or maybe it was in spite of it. Mattie wasn’t sure, except for the fuck off part.

The intercom for the front gate sounded. Mattie looked out the front window. A cab was waiting at the end of the driveway. “Who called a cab?”

“I did.” Fawn was coming down the hall pulling her huge suitcase.

“Why? Where are you going?”

“Why do you care?”

“Fawn–” Mattie blocked the front door.

The intercom chimed again.

“Get out of my way, Mattie. The cab’s going to leave.”

“Let it. You’ll have to go through me or over me because I’m not moving.”

Fawn’s eyes blazed. She dropped the handle of her suitcase and clenched her fist. Unlike her easy-going brother, little sister had a temper. Fight or flight? Mattie stood her ground.

Fawn’s eyes glistened. The tell-tale bottom lip trembled. “You said you’d help, and then you turned on me.”

“You caught me at a bad moment.”

“I’m pregnant, the father’s a married man, and I caught you at a bad moment?”

“Married?”

“Yes, married with two daughters older than me.”

“The fucking bastard.”

“No, no. It’s not what you think. He loves me.”

Mattie reached out and touched Fawn’s arm, aware that she was letting down her guard, physically as well as emotionally. “Can we pretend the last fifteen minutes didn’t happen?”

Fawn looked at her warily. Mattie could see the mistrust in her eyes, and it hurt worse than a thousand punches to the forehead. I can’t do this Mattie thought, but then immediately knew she had no choice.

“It will all work out,” Mattie said.

Fawn wiped her eyes. “No, it won’t.”

She was right, but Mattie was committed to giving it her best shot. “Let me do some research before we make the appointment.”

“I’ll make more coffee,” Fawn said.

Abortion was legal in British Columbia and free if you were a Canadian citizen. Mattie chose the BC Women’s Hospital + Health Centre in Vancouver because it was dedicated to the health of women, newborns and families, and was the largest maternity hospital in the country.

Fawn didn’t have a preference. “I don’t care where I have it as long as it’s safe, fast and won’t prevent me from having a family at a better time.”

Mattie wanted to add, and with a more suitable partner, but her opinion wasn’t asked for nor was it relevant, though that had never prevented her from expressing it before. However, considering the circumstances the less she said the less likely it was to be the wrong thing.

“On the day of your appointment when you check-in, you see a counsellor.” Mattie was reading from the hospital’s website.

“Why do I have to see a counsellor?”

“It says they provide you with decision-making counselling and birth control information.”

Fawn rolled her eyes.

All things considered, Mattie thought Fawn might want to learn a bit more about birth control but stuck to her less said dictum.

“Then a nurse will review your history, give you a mild pain killer and an antibiotic and insert a small intravenous tube.”

“Why the tube?”

“It says for other medications to control pain and anxiety,” Mattie said. “They take a blood sample as well.”

“This sounds like prepping for major surgery.”

“You’re taken to the procedure room, and the doctor gives you a local anesthetic to numb your cervix. An ultrasound may be done at this time, to give information about the size and/or age of the pregnancy. Tests for sexually transmitted infections will also be done prior to the abortion procedure.”

“Sexually transmitted diseases? Do I need to know all this, Mattie? Can’t we just book the appointment?”

Mattie wasn’t sure if Fawn was anxious or impatient, or both. She wasn’t interested in the procedure. She wanted to go in pregnant and come out an hour later not pregnant.

“I just want to check it out a bit more before we make the appointment. Why don’t you order something for lunch?”

“I’m not hungry. I’ve got to return some texts.”

Mattie continued to read how the opening of the cervix was dilated and a small suction tube was used to remove the contents of your uterus. It was over in five minutes. Problem solved. Life back to normal.

She found Fawn in the living room texting on her phone.

“You have to make the appointment yourself. Here’s the number.” She handed her a pen and notepad.

“I’d like to have this done and over with as soon as possible,” Fawn said.

“Me too.”

“I can take a cab.”

“I’ll take you, wait and bring you home.”

“Thanks, Mattie.” Fawn stood and hugged her. “I owe you.”

“No, you don’t. We’re family. We’re here for one another.”

“So, it’s okay to take the first appointment available then?”

“Yes.”

Fawn dialled the number.

Mattie walked out onto the back porch and stood in a sliver of shade. Close by, a male House Finch was singing its heart out. Its song, about three seconds long, was jumbled warbling composed of short notes ending in an upward slur. It was a mighty tune for a small bird, melodic, uplifting and energetic. He sang to attract a mate but continued to sing once they were a pair. Throughout the summer he and his partner could have up to three broods. During incubation, he fed the female and once the eggs hatched helped feed the nestlings. All the while he sang. Like most birds, he was a dedicated partner and committed parent. He never questioned his purpose. He never attempted to alter his fate. And, if the endless singing of his joyous song was any indication, he loved his life.

Fawn came out on the porch. “I booked it.”

“Good.”

“They’re busy. I didn’t think that many women had abortions.”

“About a hundred thousand a year in Canada, twelve thousand in B.C.” Just another disturbing fact that presented itself during the research.

“At first, they said two weeks, but when I told them how far along I was, they got me in earlier.”

“When?”

“This Monday, at 1:00 p.m.”