Gracie

By Joan Harper

Gracie is set in an imaginary 300 acres of heavily forested land on Vancouver Island, near Duncan, British Columbia. Here evergreen trees grow to gigantic heights and the surviving, original growth is fiercely protected. It is owned by the Kettmore family and on the property, they operate a small but exclusive resort, Madrona Manor.
As the story opens, Kenna Collins, a San Francisco journalist who during her university days worked summers at the resort, has suffered the misfortune of having the travel magazine she wrote for go bankrupt. When she worked at Madrona, Gracie, a long-time employee now retired, became her mentor and they have remained fast friends. Gracie suggests that Kenna come to Madrona and stay until she finds another job or establishes herself as a freelance journalist. This is manna from heaven to Kenna because she invested all savings she had in the magazine to try to help save it and is flat broke.
The events that follow her arrival actually began two years earlier, when Brett, the younger of the two Kettmore brothers, was seriously injured in a horrendous car crash. When Kenna arrives at the lodge and is told that Brett is brain-damaged and considered dangerous, she is devastated. His older brother, John, and his wife, Thelma, are now running the lodge and order her to stay away from him. She is distraught by the order and determined that she will find Brett and, if possible, help him, but first she must go to Gracie’s small farm and ask for help. She makes her way to Gracie’s the very next day hoping to find support and help for Brett but instead a dreadful surprise awaits her.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
• Release date: Mar 31, 2021
• ISBN: 9781528972031

Joan Harper

Joan Harper, B Ed, MA, was born in Vancouver, BC, a city set in the centre of the beautiful Pacific Northwest region. It was there she grew up, attended public school and then the University of British Columbia. Gracie is Joan’s second book. Her first was a biography also set in the Pacific Northwest region, but it took place in the far north, an isolated region with spectacular, untouched scenery. Unlike her first, Gracie is set in the far west much farther south on Vancouver Island, a huge area with a temperate climate that makes it an attractive place for Canadians to retire. During Joan’s university years, she worked at one of the many resorts on Vancouver Island and accordingly brings an air of authenticity to the descriptions and anecdotes in Gracie. Her career after graduation consisted of raising three sons, returning to university to obtain a diploma in library science and then obtaining an MA. She returned to the public school system briefly and ended her career at the University of British Columbia, where she taught library education courses for nine years. Currently, Joan and her husband are retired and live in Sechelt, BC, a charming oceanfront community approximately 70 miles north of Vancouver. They have three grown sons and six grandchildren.

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Afterword

About the Author

Joan Harper, B Ed, MA, was born in Vancouver, BC, a city set in the centre of the beautiful Pacific Northwest region. It was there she grew up, attended public school and then the University of British Columbia. Gracie is Joan’s second book. Her first was a biography also set in the Pacific Northwest region, but it took place in the far north, an isolated region with spectacular, untouched scenery. Unlike her first, Gracie is set in the far west much farther south on Vancouver Island, a huge area with a temperate climate that makes it an attractive place for Canadians to retire. During Joan’s university years, she worked at one of the many resorts on Vancouver Island and accordingly brings an air of authenticity to the descriptions and anecdotes in Gracie. Her career after graduation consisted of raising three sons, returning to university to obtain a diploma in library science and then obtaining an MA. She returned to the public school system briefly and ended her career at the University of British Columbia, where she taught library education courses for nine years.

Currently, Joan and her husband are retired and live in Sechelt, BC, a charming oceanfront community approximately 70 miles north of Vancouver. They have three grown sons and six grandchildren.

Dedication

I dedicate Gracie to my granddaughter, Jamie, who is currently pursuing a degree in English at the University of British Columbia.

Copyright Information ©

Joan Harper (2021)

The right of Joan Harper to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528946964 (Paperback)

ISBN 9781528972031 (ePub e-book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2021)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Acknowledgement

As a child, I imagined that authors scribbled off their scripts in an easy flow of words but I have learned that this is not always the case, at least it is not in mine. Perhaps there are those talented enough to do so, but I am not one of them. I do, however, owe a debt of gratitude to a multitude of excellent authors, no matter how they managed to write their books. My love of reading began when I was a young child. In the beginning my parents read to me, but once I learned to read for myself, I found there were books that I truly treasured and read more than once. I thank the authors of those books and give them much credit because without them I don’t think I would ever have grown to love books to the degree that I would attempt to write one myself. As a child, I poured over the Anne of Green Gables series all the way from her arrival on Prince Edward Island to the end of the First World War. Bambi was a close second and I cried every time I read it. In elementary school the Silver Chief, Dog of the North series stands out. Many thanks to L. M. Montgomery, Felix Salten and Jack O’Brien. These authors were followed by others that changed as I grew. As an adult, Ernest Hemingway, Ken Follett, Sidney Sheldon and Jeffrey Archer stand among my favourites. As I have said previously, I do not write easily and do not match those I admire, but I am working towards a quote by Hemingway: There is nothing noble in being superior to your fellow man; true nobility is being superior to your former self. Authors seldom achieve the heights of the books named here. Many thanks to those authors I have enjoyed in the past that helped me make this effort.

I learned as a librarian that there is a place for fast, light reads. It is referred to in library circles as ‘escape literature’. It is a body of literature meant to help readers leave the hectic pace and pressures of present-day life behind and enter a different world for a spell of relief. Perhaps this book will join their ranks.

In addition, I want to thank my family and friends who helped me in many ways. I grew up in a family where education was important and I give my love and appreciation to my parents for that gift.

I especially want to thank my husband for his patience and endurance as I sat writing for what seemed to him an endless time.

I give thanks as well to other family members and friends for listening to my plot and giving helpful suggestions.

Prologue

A door slammed! Noise echoed from harsh footsteps pounding down a flight of wooden stairs and was followed by the scrunch of car wheels biting hard into gravel. The roar of an engine boomed across the landscape as the car raced towards the gates ahead.

What the hell! Brett Kettmore muttered as his car leapt onto Lacey Road. It just gets worse every day. There’s no reasoning with that bitch. How my brother could have been stupid enough to marry her is beyond comprehension and he sure doesn’t show any signs of dumping her. She’s tearing the family apart, ruining our business and driving me crazy but say a word against her and I might as well desecrate an angel.

He stepped hard on the gas pedal speeding towards the Malahat highway that led towards the city of Victoria. He spit angry words out loud. It’s been too long since I spent time with Tosh, and tonight’s the night. Thank God he’s finally home from Europe. No doubt he’ll be deep into his law cases, but I’ll insist he manage a night off for his old pal. I need to get drunk and spill my guts to someone I can trust, and Tosh is the man. He pulled a cell phone from his pocket and began to punch in numbers.

The highway began climbing towards Malahat’s peak and before Brett finished dialing, he began to feel lightheaded. He dropped the phone, shook his head to clear it and gripped the wheel hard with both hands. Then his vision began to blur. Probably the anger…I’d better calm down, he told himself. Suddenly everything looked lopsided and a wonderful sense of power seeped over him. Actually, the world is beautiful, he sighed and laughed out loud. I’m mighty I can do anything. Why should I worry about that bitch?

Steadily his speed increased. Faster and faster the miles flipped by. As he reached the first lookout point, he cheered out loud, I’ll be in Victoria in no time. When the second lookout loomed around a long curve, he pressed even harder on the accelerator. Abruptly, lights from an oncoming car struck his eyes like a blast from a search light. Brett swerved to avoid their glare, hit the concrete barrier while still accelerating and his air bags exploded. The car leapt over the low roadside barrier and halted inches from the sheer cliff that dropped straight to the sea below.

The world disappeared. He floated in nothingness. He didn’t know the couple in the approaching car had stopped. He didn’t see them take out their cell phone. And he was deaf to the wailing sirens of ambulance, police, and fire trucks. Sensation vanished. The dark reigned supreme.

Chapter 1

With my arms folded over the desk in front of me and my head resting on them, I knew it was well past midnight. I was almost asleep.

Suddenly, my phone shrilled through the silent gloom jerking me upright. Struggling to become alert, I glanced at the clock and saw it was almost 2 a.m. What now? I muttered grumpily, I’ve been working at this desk far too long to deal with anything more tonight.

Unease struck! Surely no sane person would call at this hour unless there was some sort of trouble. I grabbed for the phone and muttered peevishly to myself, after everything that’s happened surely nothing else can go wrong, but there’s that old saying, ‘bad things happen in threes.’ When it comes to me though it seems more like fives or sixes.

Kenna Collins speaking.

Hi! It’s Gracie. How are ya Kenna? I relaxed and smiled when I heard the voice on the other end. Gracie, my old friend and mentor had never gotten rid of the broken down, jumbled Yorkshire accent she’d inherited from her parents.

Anyway, I’ve bin thinkin’ about ye and yer troubles a lot lately…even got as fer as pickin’ up the phone once or twice but weren’t ready. Didin’ have things sorted out. I’m real sorry to call so late a’ night but I jist woke up and couldn’t git back to sleep with worrin’ and somehow I felt I had to talk to yer.

It’s okay, I was half awake anyway… sitting here deleting and saving files on my computer… but what a surprise! I hesitated. Something must be wrong to make you call so late. Why can’t you sleep?

I’m jist fine, but no everythin’ ain’t all right. It’s about Brett.

Oh, what’s happened?

I nevir seen the’ point in tellin’ yer before now. I knowed ‘id jist make yer feel bad and I kept hopin’ he’d git better but bout a year n’ a half ago Brett had a real, bad car accident. Ain’t bin the same since.

My heart sank. Is he still in a coma? Is he going to die? Is that what you phoned to tell me?

No, no, nothin’ like that but it’s his head… claims he has blackouts. I nevir seen him ha’ one but Thelma wants him locked up.

Locked up? Thelma? Oh yes, John’s wife. She was after my time…but that’s not going to happen, is it?

Dunno. I can’t git anyone to listin’ round here. Thelma’s convinced everyone he’s dangerous an’ that he has to go. Brett’s resistin’ somethin’ fierce bout it so John’s let ‘im use me old panabode, you know Cliffside on tha’ steep part past Blustery Point. He looks terrible…hair hangin’ down to his middle, an’ nothin’ but ragged old clothes.

That’s unbelievable… Why isn’t John looking after him?

Brett don’t want no one. I bin tryin’ to git him to pull hisself together, but he won’t listen evin to me. He needs help real bad. I know you two used to be great friends an jist wondered… with the magazine goin’ bankrupt an’ all if now might be a good time for you to come back to Madrona Manor for a spell? Brett always liked ya.

But it’s been eight years since I left. I’m out of touch. What about his friend, Tosh Riley? He’s a lawyer and they grew up together. I’m sure he’d want to help… they’ve always been such close friends.

Yeah, but he’s gone with some big time international law team…some place in Britain…an’ it’s not only Brett. The lodge is goin’ downhill fast. All Thelma wants to do is sub-divide; divvy up the land and develop it. She don’ care ‘bout payin’ guests. This year the’ place isn’t even goin’ to open till July …if thin.

I paused. Wow that’s a lot to take in…I’ll be honest, things are not good with me right now. You know that for seven long years I put my heart and soul into Bob Nichol’s magazine, Travel Adventures, and its bankruptcy has hit me hard. With all the talk of terrorism and the economy being shaky, people aren’t traveling the way they used to, and they sure aren’t buying expensive, glossy, travel magazines. It’s ended in bankruptcy. There’s absolutely no MONEY left. I shouldn’t complain though; it’s even worse for Bob, the owner. When things started to go bad, he put all his savings into keeping the business alive and he’s got a wife and two kids to feed.

Sounds tough. There was a long pause with both of us thinking hard.

I broke the silence. There are no jobs available so I’m going to try freelancing. I’ve been sitting here backing up all my old files hoping to come across something that might sell. A hush stretched over the miles and seemed to go on for a long time.

Finally, Gracie sighed. I’m real sorry for yer troubles…there don’ seem to be any good news anywhere.

I closed my eyes and tried to recall everything I could remember about Madrona, during the two summers I’d worked there. Carefully, I spoke my thoughts aloud…slowly at first and then with more confidence. Maybe an article or two about the Pacific Northwest would sell. At least U.S. families can drive there… and avoid expensive flights… and Canada’s a safe part of the world. That counts for a lot these days. If I could make the manor my headquarters for a bit, at least I’d have a roof over my head… that is if they’ll have me?

John’d nevir think of turnin’ yer down. Don’ you ‘member what his father old Mr. Ted Kettmore said when you lift, ’Well, if San Francisco don’t work out, you’ll always have a home here. I’ll let them know yer comin’.

I thought back. The day that promise was made was eight long years ago and I was young and very naïve. I think he just felt sorry for me because I’m an orphan and don’t have any family. I never dreamed I’d have to take him up on his offer but now it looks like manna from heaven. I’m nearly flat broke…. I have to be out of this apartment in a few days and it would be a perfect spot to sit out the storm. If you’re sure John wouldn’t mind … yes, I’ll be there.

Hallelujah! The Lord do work in mysterious ways… ’Bout time…yer should have come back years ago.

I think you’re right. Madrona was the one place in my entire life where I felt I really belonged. …I’ll never forget it. It’s strange you picked this time to phone. I’ve been thinking about the lodge a lot lately…feeling sorry for myself I guess.

We’ll all be waitin’.

I’m almost finished packing up, so I’ll leave in a couple of days and drive because I’ll need a car after I get there. Actually, your phone call was an answer to a prayer. I’ll see you in less than a week and give you a phone call to let you know exactly when I’ll arrive but… My voice dropped to a whisper, …but I really don’t know what I can do to help Brett.

Chapter 2

As the Washington/British-Columbia border loomed, I was wilting from lack of sleep, helped along by unusually high temperatures for the first week of June. A heat wave had struck the area with a vengeance.

I reminisced to myself, I’ve been away so long I’ve forgotten how fickle the weather in this part of the world can be…it could just as easily have been a cold drizzle but instead it’s high summer and it’s hot, hot, hot... scorching all the way from San Francisco and me without air conditioning. Very strange for June. The El Nino effect? Or is it all due to climate change?

I flicked my long, blonde hair back to stop it clinging to my neck and thrust open the sunroof. I’d had the car serviced before leaving San Francisco and was told the air conditioning wasn’t functioning but didn’t have the money to repair it. I rationalized that in a climate farther north I might not need it anyway.

Suddenly, a breath of cooler air poured down through the open sunroof and I immediately felt better. I gave a sigh of relief and realized I had been right. The northerly air was cooler and a welcome reprieve.

I glanced at the mileage meter and thought, that it wouldn’t be long until I reached the border. A peek at my watch made me decide to press on. It was almost 4 PM! I hadn’t realized how much time it had taken getting through the road construction about five miles back. Hopefully, there won’t be a line up at customs. The long drive should be over tonight, and I’ll have a good bed to sleep in.

Maybe it’s the fresh, cool climate or maybe I’m just glad to be leaving my problems behind but suddenly I feel happy... something I haven’t felt in a long time. Wriggling my shoulders to help relieve the tension of driving I began to hum softly.

"There once was a bachelor, lived all alone,

Worked at the weaver’s trade

And the only, only thing

That he did that was wrong

Was to woo a fair young maid."

I laughed out loud… Why am I singing that tune now? I haven’t thought of it since I left Madrona ages ago. We used to sing it out on the porch after dinner was cleared away and the tables were set for breakfast. Brett would strum his guitar, and everyone would sing and kibitz as we watched the sun go down. I don’t know why but it’s made my spirits rise…I must be getting sentimental in my old age. The lodge was such a happy place until…

The border appeared and it turned my mood upside down. Damn. Damn and double damn! Just my luck! How on earth could I run into a screw-up like this? Clapping a hand to my head, I continued to howl out loud, Oh, I remember now, it’s Sunday afternoon and everyone’s heading home from a weekend away… I’d forgotten how many Canadian shoppers head to the US for cheap gas and groceries. Well, there’s nothing for it but wait so wait I must.

By inches my sporty, blue Mustang crept forward. I knew I’d never make the 6 p.m. ferry sailing at this rate, It, would have to be the eight. Unfortunately, that means the drive over the Malahat will be in the pitch dark and that won’t be fun. Scenery is not on display at night and there are all those deadly curves… I’ll need to be careful but at least I’ll get the sunset from the ferry and maybe I can even snap a few photos to help dress up my articles. Malahat scenery will have to keep for another day.

Slowly the line-up edged towards the custom booths and after a substantial wait I quickly breezed through. Neither the American nor the Canadian officers presented a problem, and I was off to ‘the adventure into my past’ as I’d dubbed the trip in my mind.

Once on Canadian soil it was only a short drive until I was nosing the Mustang into the ferry line-up at Tsawassen terminal. A wave of relief washed over me. I’d missed the 6 p.m. sailing but when I’d last called Gracie to confirm my arrival time, I remembered saying, Hopefully I’ll make the 6 p.m. ferry but don’t count on it. I’m still in Oregon and have a long way to go so I may not make it tonight. If not, I’ll call in the morning and in any case I’ll be over to see you as soon as possible next day.

Like always Gracie was very practical, Don’ ye’ worry ‘bout a little thing like that…niver can tell when yer travelin’ an I’ll see you when you git here.

This late, I wouldn’t be able to drop in and surprise her. I’d have to go directly to Madrona Manor because I knew they were expecting me tonight.

The ferry sailed into sight and the prospect of an hour and a half sitting on a ship watching the world pass by seemed more than appealing. Shortly, I drove on board and climbed the steep stairs that led from the car deck to the lounges. As I passed the dining room, I noted that it offered a smorgasbord dinner and considered going in but didn’t think I should spend the money. Instead, I looked around for a comfortable window seat but then turned around abruptly. ‘What the heck, I’m hungry and I’m going to splurge on the dining room. They advertise an excellent exchange rate on American money, and I might as well get rid of the last of mine.’

I was led to a nice table by the window and the food choices were good and varied, It was a long time since I’d had a good meal and I thoroughly enjoyed it. The sunset over the water was magnificent and I snapped photos to my heart’s content. I lingered drinking several cups of coffee and as I sipped the third reasoned that at least it would keep me awake on the long drive ahead.

Staring at the ocean brought back memories of the three summers when I worked at Madrona Manor. I’d been so young… nothing but a schoolgirl studying journalism at Stanford and didn’t have a care in the world.

I’d been lucky to land a summer job with the wonderful Kettmore family at Madrona Manor. They were such warm, caring people that summer staff came back to work for them year after year and seldom was a job vacancy open. It was there for the first time in my life that I felt a sense of belonging and Gracie, of course, played a major role in that.

Gracie became the mother or favorite aunt I’d never had, and she has always remained close to my heart. Ever since those long-ago days we’ve kept in touch and even though she seldom leaves home she’s always managed to visit San Francisco once a year. I can hardly remember my parents or the grandmother who took custody of me after they died but I’ll remember Gracie as long as I live.

The first time I arrived at Madrona, I’d thought it must be the most beautiful place on earth and it wasn’t just the magnificent lodge or the three hundred acres of forest surrounding it that were stunning. It was the people too and especially Gracie. She had worked there ever since she was a teenager and knew every crick and corner of the property and