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“And what about Helen Keller?” said Annie, a few minutes later. “You can’t tell me she was a burden to society.”
“That’s a good point. A valid point,” said Abigail. She saw Debbie and Colette in their coats, standing by the front door, giving her the high sign. It was time to leave.
Abigail put up her hand in the “five minutes” signal, then turned back to the group.
“Yeah,” said Debbie. “There’s no way she’s leaving in five minutes. Now what? I’m getting hot.”
“Let’s get some fresh air,” said Colette.
“I’ll text to let her know we’re outside.” Debbie put Abigail’s coat down on the chair by reception, sent the text, then left with Chancellor Roberge.
Abigail refocused her attention, but her heart wasn’t really in these arguments anymore. She had other things on her mind.
Abby Maria. It was the last straw. Gilbert had repeated the name as though vomiting the words up.
Abby Maria. Full of grace.
She just wanted this to be over.
Pray for us sinners.
Abigail realized they were waiting for her to say something. To defend herself. She sighed.
“What I’m saying is that resources are limited. That’s just a fact. We need to save those who can be saved, and give the rest a dignified, merciful, and, yes, swift end.”
She noticed the child in the young woman’s arms.
“Oooh, a baby.” Abigail leaned forward. “May I?”
Across the room, Ruth and Stephen had joined the Asshole Saint and Armand.
The gathering had returned to a party atmosphere. The play, and the happy children leaping off the “stage” to wild applause, had helped. And now there was the thrum of pleasant conversation, outbursts of laughter, and anticipation as the clock counted down the final minutes of a year both trying and triumphant.
The teenagers in the group were getting a little rowdy, and Armand knew why. If they were anything like he was at that age, and Daniel and Annie for that matter, they’d stashed some beer or cider in the woods, and were enjoying their first drunk.
Tomorrow morning, he also knew from experience, would be a lot less enjoyable.
“Is Reine-Marie still finding monkeys?” asked Ruth.
“Oui,” said Armand. He’d been glancing over to see how his family was coping with Abigail Robinson.
Judging by Jean-Guy’s face, not well.
“Monkeys?” asked Vincent Gilbert. “Have I missed something?”
“It’s what Reine-Marie does now,” said Ruth.
“Looks for monkeys? And she finds them? Here?”
“No, you idiot,” said Ruth. “They’re not real monkeys.”
“She’s finding imaginary ones?” Dr. Gilbert turned to Armand. “That can’t be good.”
“A family has asked Reine-Marie to go through their mother’s things,” Armand explained. “The woman died a few months ago, and in cleaning out the house, they’ve come across boxes in the attic filled with letters, documents—”
“And monkeys,” said Stephen.
“How many so far?” Ruth asked.
