March Novel Essential Information

Novel Title: Inexplicable Incidents

Time Setting: VI1561*

Genre: Fantasy

Minimum Word Goal: 90,000

Timespan: August–December

Locations: Beaudroit, Le Protecterat d’Arbrienne de l’Est; Trempré, Arbrienne

Main Characters: Étienne Beaugenièvre; Aline LaPrairie

Background Information:

In the summer of VI1480 King Didier XIV of Arbrienne injured his back falling from his horse mere days before he was to depart for the kingdom of Anatar Phnungkiri to negotiate a trade deal.

As a result, he sent his eighteen-year-old son, Crown Prince Maxime, in his stead. Maxime did an admirable job on the trade deal but also ended up proposing marriage to Princess Sovanna of Anatar Phnungkiri, having fallen head-over-heels in love with her while he was there.

This proved problematic because Maxime was already betrothed, and had been since he was five, to the Grand-Duchess of Venterre; furthermore, as Crown Prince, Maxime was forbidden to marry a foreign-blooded woman, as if he made her Queen her nation could claim Arbrienne’s land as its own.

Maxime knew little and cared less about the law, and proceeded to marry Princess Sovanna in VI1483 — as events in her family caused their original date of VI1481 to be postponed twice — mere months before he was to marry the Grand-Duchess.

Because the people of Anatar Phnungkiri were active polygamists, Princess Sovanna told Maxime not to worry about cancelling his engagement to the Grand-Duchess, so he didn’t.

Within the year King Didier’s back injury flared up and developed an infection as well, prompting Maxime to be summoned to the royal palace from his residence as Archduke of Mardeaux to take over day-to-day affairs in his father’s stead and brought his wives with him.

His younger brother Édouard, recently returned from studying abroad with plans to become an Ambassador, discovered that Maxime had two wives and told King Didier, who became enraged.

Maxime was immediately stripped of his title of Crown Prince for having married Princess Sovanna, and sentenced to death for having taken two wives — which had been a capital crime in Arbrienne for centuries.

Not seeing anything wrong with what he’d done morally — for morality was much-emphasised in Arbrienne — Maxime protested the condemnations and escaped when his second wife provided him the opportunity to do so, fleeing to Anatar Phnungkiri, where Princess Sovanna had been deported.

Unsurprisingly the trade deal was cancelled and war nearly broke out between Arbrienne and Anatar Phnungkiri, however, King Didier’s infection claimed his life in VI1485, placing Prince Édouard on the throne as King Édouard I.

Maxime learned of his father’s death from his second wife — whom he’d left behind in Arbrienne when he’d escaped because he didn’t really like her — and hurried to Arbrienne to claim the throne, only to be rearrested and find Édouard had already been crowned.

Édouard was loathe to execute his brother as was the punishment for polygamy, however, as he had learned in his foreign studies that rigid morality and good works were not getting anyone anywhere, only mercy from God was, and he wanted Maxime to realise the error of his ways.

Maxime refused, but still Édouard couldn’t kill him, and so had the sentence commuted to a lifetime banishment from Arbrienne and had Maxime escorted to the coast, where he was taken to Anatar Phnungkiri.

Within a month, however, Maxime returned to Arbrienne with soldiers from Anatar Phnungkiri and launched an attack, declaring all land that he conquered property of the kingdom of Mardeaux, which he crowned himself king of in VI1488 — after he’d taken the archduchy of the same name so that he could use the archducal residence therein as his capital.

To make matters worse, Duke Boniface of Sacurré was not impressed with Édouard’s differing beliefs in the character of God and the importance of piety and morality — with Boniface believing that under Édouard Arbrienne was degrading, thus all the problems were occurring — and so refused to allow his men to serve in the armies of Arbrienne in VI1490.

Boniface’s men, however, were not keen on letting Maxime and the troops of Anatar Phnunkiri take their homeland from them — as they were even worse than Édouard — and nearly revolted; but crisis was averted, for Boniface, by his announcing that Sacurré had seceded from Arbrienne and had now become Le Protecterat d’Arbrienne de l’Est.

Following his secession, Boniface not only ordered men to attack the encroaching forces of Mardeaux, but ordered his men to attack the nearby archduchy of Aimaline, home of Prince Léonard, Maxime and Édouard’s brother, the youngest of King Didier’s three sons, as Boniface believed Léonard to be the most pious of all of King Didier’s sons and the best candidate to be King of Arbrienne.

Over the course of time Arbrienne has lost just over half of its land area to the combined forces of Mardeaux and Le Protecterat, but at present just over half of its original territory is under its control, while Mardeaux and Le Protecterat both control a little under a quarter of Arbrienne’s original territory.

After drastic territorial exchanges between Mardeaux and Le Protecterat between VI1490 and VI1520, things have settled into a stalemate as the second generation has taken over the fighting, with Boniface’s son Arsène succeeding him in VI1516; Maxime’s son Valère succeeding him in VI1520, and Édouard’s son Jérémie succeeding him in VI1536 — Arsène has also been succeeded by his son Louis in VI1539 — but with no end in sight, as neither Mardeaux nor Le Protecterat are intent to return under Arbrienne’s authority, nor are they content with the land that they possess.

King Jérémie, however, is favourably disposed to peace, having been born after the beginning of the war, and very burdened that the people are suffering for the greed of their leaders; his efforts have fallen flat, however, with few of the envoys he’s sent to Valère and Louis living to tell the tale, and those who do having been flatly refused.

Being seventy one years old, Jérémie doesn’t know how much time he’ll have left to see peace, but he is hopeful that he will be able to know it, even if only for a day of his life, and that his son, grandson, and great-grandson will be able to know it for the majority of their lives as well.

*not equivalent to 1561AD; also, when spoken, the VI is typically skipped over and only the numbers are said unless one is talking about the Ages prior to the Sixth Age.

Pronunciations:

Beaudroit: bowdwah

Protecterat: prohtehktehrah

d’Arbrienne: dahbreeehn

l’Est: lest

Trempré: trohmpray

Arbrienne: ahbreeehn

Étienne: eht’yeh

Beaugenièvre: bowzhenyehv

Aline: ahleen

LaPrairie: lahprahree

Didier: didyeh

Anatar Phnungkiri: ahnahtahr f’nungkeeree

Maxime: makseem

Sovanna: sowvannah

Venterre: vehntare

Mardeaux: mahrdow

Édouard: ehdwahrd

Sacurré: sahkuhrreh

Aimaline: aymahleen

Léonard: lehohnahrd

Arsène: ahrsehn

Valère: vahlehr

Jérémie: zherehmee

Louis: looee

What Nobody Saw: Day 15

Word Total: 90,006

Year to Date: 180,013

Summary of Events:

While waiting for Frederick to get back to him again Walker spent another busy week at work, as well as helping with coaching a local kids baseball team that succeeded in opening their season without a loss in their first 10 games. One of Walker's fellow coaches on the team had promised the kids — as well as the coaching staff — ice cream should they achieve the feat, so, following the game, everyone set out for ice cream . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

       Walker decided he could wait until all the kids had gotten their ice cream before he placed his order, so he stayed outside as they all went in.

Zelene slid away from him and opened her purse, producing his cellphone, which was ringing; Walker took it and was, once again, quite pleasantly surprised to see that it was Frederick calling.

“Hello?” he answered.

“Hello Walker,” Frederick replied. “Sorry it took this long again, I was trying to get some details, as things are playing into our favour.”

“What do you mean?” Walker asked.

“Wanda’s heading to Ontario for the weekend, and I volunteered to take care of Mom so that she’s not on her own,” Frederick replied.

“Oh, um, this is kind of short notice,” Walker said.

“Oh, I’m sorry, not this weekend,” Frederick said. “It’s two weeks from now, the weekend after next, Victoria Day weekend.”

“Okay, I can handle that,” Walker said. “How long is she going to be in town?”

“Wanda’s flying down, so she’ll bring Mom on Friday sometime, I’m not sure when, and then she’s coming back on Monday evening I believe and taking Mom home with her then,” Frederick replied. “So there’s going to be two full days for sure.”

“Um, well, I’ll have to check my calendar to see what’s up and book things accordingly, my evenings are going to remain up in the air until a lot closer to the date, though, so I’d be looking for mornings or afternoons, to an extent, I’ll have to call you once I’ve looked at my calendar,” Walker replied.

“Okay,” Frederick said. “Although I do think evenings will work best.”

“Well you’d best make your arrangements with the Jets then,” Walker replied.

“The Winnipeg Jets?” Frederick asked.

“Yes,” Walker replied. “If they’re playing I’m not available because I’m either at or watching the game.”

“Oh,” Frederick said. “Well, I’ll pay a little more attention to them then.”

“But, yeah, I’ll get back to you as soon as I have a look at my calendar, thanks for getting back to me,” Walker said.

“You’re welcome,” Frederick replied. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” Walker replied.

He ended the call and pocketed his cellphone.

“So?” Zelene asked. “The meeting’s booked?”

“Jolene’s going to be in town Victoria long,” Walker replied. “So I just have to see when I’m free to meet with her.”

“Cool,” Zelene said. “I think we can probably go inside now.”

“Yeah, let’s go,” Walker said, opening the door for Zelene to go ahead of him.

Next Post: 29 February.

What Nobody Saw: Day 14

Word Count: 84,004

Summary of Events:

Walker attended the first game of the Jets' second-round playoff series, put in a lot of hours of work, and otherwise kept himself busy while waiting for Frederick Schissler to get back to him about whether Jolene wanted to see the letters or not; he was participating in a game with his recreational league baseball team when one of his teammates let the dugout know that a cellphone was ringing . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Walker recognised the ringtone and went over to find it was his cellphone that was ringing, and to his surprise, Frederick Schissler was the name on his display.

Eagerly Walker hurried behind the dugout and answered the call.

“Sorry about the wait,” Frederick said. “I’d wanted to take Mom out sooner but it didn’t work out.”

“It happens,” Walker said — grateful that Frederick had been able to take Jolene out for lunch.

“Mom knew nothing about the letters,” Frederick said. “She was completely shocked, she didn’t realise Dad had gone that far I don’t think.”

“Really?” Walker asked, finding himself quite surprised that the woman who’d suffered at Mr. Schissler’s hands the longest wouldn’t have expected this sort of thing out of him.

“She didn’t really say, but she looked shocked,” Frederick replied.

“Well, does she want the letters, though?” Walker asked.

“She would really like to see them, yes,” Frederick replied.

“So did you talk about arranging that?” Walker asked.

“Not really,” Frederick replied. “I didn’t think it would be wise, considering how much I’d already told her. I didn’t want to overwhelm her.”

“Understandable,” Walker said.

“We’d want to arrange to do it in public somewhere in Brandon,” Frederick said. “But I do think that Winnipeg would probably be Mom’s preference, as she was intrigued by what I said about the house being remodelled.”

“Okay,” Walker said.

“I’m hoping Mom won’t say anything to Wanda about it,” Frederick said. “I don’t know what Wanda would think or do about it, and I don’t know that I want to find out.”

“I’m pretty flexible,” Walker said. “So if you want to bring her to town, like, next weekend or something, I mean, I’ll probably have games in the afternoons, but I’d have evenings free to meet with her.”

“A weekday might be better,” Frederick replied. “You could maybe go down to Brandon and meet Mom for supper with me or something. I think Wanda would question it less that way, in fact, she’d probably hardly notice it.”

“What?” Walker asked. “Why is it such a big deal whether she knows what your mom’s up to or not? Couldn’t you just tell her you want to have your mom over for the weekend, I mean, she’s your mom too, your sister can’t hog her.”

“Well, I don’t know,” Frederick hedged. “It might work, but Wanda might also just tag along for the ride. I’ll have to see.”

“Okay,” Walker said, although he felt supremely puzzled.

“I’ll get back to you, hopefully a bit sooner than this last time,” Frederick said.

“Right,” Walker said, turning to see Corbin animatedly gesticulating, suggesting either he was up to bat soon or they were on fielding. “I have to get going, so I’ll talk to you later.”

“Alright, talk to you soon,” Frederick said.

Walker ended the call.

What Nobody Saw: Day 13

Word Count: 78,012

Summary of Events:

Walker took the Schissler siblings to his house and showed them the mail, which Frederick confirmed was all from Mrs. Schissler's parents and siblings, and must've been hidden away by their father so as to cut her off from her family. Frederick arranged to meet Mrs. Schissler for lunch to ask her about the mail and told Walker to keep the mail until he called with her answer; while Walker waited for news he and his coworkers started work on drywalling the house now that all the electrical, plumbing, and heating work was done . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Outside of communicating measurements and transfers of materials and tools, Walker and Jay worked in silence, hanging the drywall until they’d completed the area they’d been working on and moved to the next one, hauling as many sheets of drywall as they needed inside from the garage as they went, transitioning onto the main floor, starting from the stair wall and working in a clockwise fashion around the entry and coat closet before putting up the entire ceiling and continuing around the walls and into the kitchen, where they did the common wall with the living room before putting up the ceiling and then continuing with the walls, leaving the back entry to be done later.

They’d just placed the first piece of drywall onto the stairs heading down to the lower main level or upper basement — Walker wasn’t sure if there was a technical term for such a floor — when they heard the front door open.

Once the sheet was secure enough that Walker could let go he headed to the door and found Vance surveying the interior.

“You guys have gotten pretty far,” he said. “Where are the others?”

“Jay’s finishing the sheet and Finnegan’s mudding,” Walker replied.

Vance nodded and followed Walker back to the kitchen, where he was impressed by the progress still.

“How much of this have you done since lunch?” Vance asked.

“The main floor, plus a bit of the upstairs,” Walker replied.

“Not bad,” Vance said.

“How’re Marty and Xan doing?” Jay asked, continuing to measure the wall, writing down measurements on the nearest stud.

“Good,” Vance said, although his tone and expression suggested not good enough.

“You don’t sound convinced,” Jay said, not looking.

“They’re making progress,” Vance said. “It’s just they’re not exactly outpacing any turtles here.”

“Slow and steady wins the race,” Jay said.

“Tell the customer that when the bill’s five grand more than they were quoted,” Vance muttered.

“True,” Jay said.

“Especially when there aren’t really any legitimate delays in the project,” Vance said.

“Problematic indeed,” Jay said.

“It’s nice to see people getting stuff done,” Vance said.

“Glad we can be of service,” Jay said. “Ready for me to read ‘em off kid?”

Walker went over to the small stack of drywall nearby and knelt on the top piece, pencil and tape measure ready.

“Give it to him,” Vance said.

Walker measured and marked as Jay hollered the numbers; he then called it all back to Jay to confirm before using a straight-edge level to mark the important lines to fit along the stairs and such, after which he scored and snapped the shapes.

Vance helped Walker lift the drywall into place and Jay started screwing it in place before cutting out the light box to control the kitchen/dining room lights, as well as lights for the flight of stairs and the basement hallway — based on where the wires trailed.

What Nobody Saw: Day 12

Word Count: 72,027

Summary of Events:

Walker was fuelling up his truck on his way home from work when he got a call from Dr. Schissler asking if he'd be free Saturday morning to meet with all the Schissler children; Walker agreed, although it would require him to miss part of the practise of the baseball team he helped coach, which displeased the main coach. Only three of Dr. Schissler's four siblings were present at the meeting, Frederick, Maurice, and Zina, the one who'd written the diaries, and who was the most upset of all of the siblings that Walker had found the papers and read through them . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“Answer me boy,” Zina snapped. “Do you expect me to believe you have pure and true altruism within yourself to not seek remuneration for giving us these papers? Whether it’s to keep you quiet or just to suggest that we’re grateful to have this dredged up from the pit we buried it in?”

Walker hesitated. He couldn’t claim he was always good, although he did at least try to be nice to people he didn’t know, although it was hard to be nice to people who weren’t being nice to him. “Yes.”

“Really?” Zina asked, sounding sceptical, her tone only temporarily relaxed.

“Yes,” Walker repeated.

“Don’t think I can’t see right through you,” Zina replied coldly. “You should know I would considering what you’ve read about me and what I’ve been through. You’re playing the good boy card in an effort to get away with our story without having to pay money for it.”

“No, no I’m not,” Walker replied. “I’m not a writer or anything. I work in construction.”

Walker startled when he felt a solid surface behind him; he hadn’t realised he’d been edging backwards, but he pressed his back against the door as hard as possible. He wanted to run away, but he had his doubts that would help; in fact, he feared that it might actually lead to his getting arrested, considering the mood Zina appeared to be in.

“You don’t need to be a writer to tell stories these days,” Zina said. “Everyone does, and who doesn’t want to hear a story about a sadist?”

“That’s not what this is about,” Walker protested.

“It isn’t is it?” Zina asked guardedly. “Then what is it about?”

“It’s about the mail,” Walker replied.

“Mail?” Dr. Schissler asked.

“What mail?” Frederick asked.

“When the first papers fell down on me I got a recycling bag and started putting them inside, and then I climbed up into the attic opening and grabbed the rest, at least as much as I could reach,” Walker replied. “And then I scanned around to see if there was anything else I should be worried about and saw a box in the far right corner, like, if you look at the front of the house from the road, the far right corner of the roof you can see, that’s where it was. I tore down the rest of the ceiling to get to it, and found there were two boxes all full of mail that hadn’t been opened, and it was all addressed to your mom. I think your dad hid it from her, and I was wanting to track some Schisslers down so that I could find out if she wanted it.”

“Where is this mail?” Frederick asked.

“At my house,” Walker replied. “With all the rest of the papers.”

“May we see it?” Frederick asked.

“Sure,” Walker replied. “Like, right now?”

“We might as well,” Frederick replied.

What Nobody Saw: Day 11

Word Count: 66,052

Summary of Events:

Walker went with a coworker to do a quick bathroom renovation for, as it turned out, his mom's dad and stepmom; as he was under the sink detaching some things their chihuahua bit him, causing him to startle and cut his cheek open deeply enough to need stitches. Although the wound was relatively minor, Walker was given the rest of the week off, so he invited Dr. Schissler's niece — who had also become his girlfriend since they'd met at the Jets game — over to hang out because he was bored . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“So’ve you heard back from Uncle Jonas yet?” she asked.

“No,” Walker replied.

“Oh,” Zelene said. sounding disappointed. “What would be taking him so long?”

“I don’t know,” Walker replied. “But it’s kind of driving me nuts.”
“Really?” Zelene asked. “Why?”

“Because I want to know all the answers,” Walker replied.

“Me too,” Zelene said.

Walker leaned his head against the pillowy back of the couch and sighed.

“Are you hoping that they’ll take the papers or what?” Zelene asked.

“I don’t know,” Walker replied. “Kind of, I guess, but I would like it if they’d tell me why the papers were in the attic and stuff.”

“That would always be nice,” Zelene said.

“I also want to know if the mom’s still alive,” Walker said. “Like, Jonas’ mom.”

“Why?” Zelene asked.

“Well, she got the shortest end of the stick, and I want to know that she’s been able to enjoy a few years of freedom,” Walker replied. “Besides, I don’t think she knew that a lot of those papers existed, and it might make her happy to know they did.”

Zelene was silent, taking up her drink and sipping it.

“Why are you so interested in seeing her happy?” Zelene asked.

“I don’t know,” Walker replied. “I just am.”

“You do realise she’s an old lady by now, right?” Zelene asked.

“Yeah,” Walker replied. “But, to be honest, it’s kind of like my grandma. Grandma Milla, that is. She’s such a sweet, nice old lady, and I’ve seen a picture of, of Jolene, Jonas’ mom, and she looked really pretty and she’s sounded so nice and wonderful, and yet she was treated so badly, I want to know that she’s getting the good treatment she deserves; even to let her know that there are nice people out here who feel bad about what happened to her and want to . . . make amends, in a way.”

“How do you mean?” Zelene asked.

“I mean, I know abuse can go unnoticed sometimes,” Walker replied. “A lot of times, really, usually because the abuser can convince people that they’re awesome and nice and would never be mean to anyone, and so the abused people are kept in bondage because they’d look like lunatics if they tried to speak out, based on the image their abuser’s cultivated. Yet, honestly, I’m sure that there were people who had to have suspected that something was amiss, but yet, for their own reasons — right or wrong — they didn’t have the guts to act.”

“But you weren’t born back then,” Zelene said.

“No,” Walker admitted. “My parents were hardly born. But I found the papers, so I found out more of the truth than anyone else has known, and I feel like it’s my duty to . . . to . . . show her that people care.”

What Nobody Saw: Day 10

Word Count: 60,002

Summary of Events:

Although severely nervous, Walker got ready and went to the restaurant to meet Dr. Schissler, who surprised Walker by being completely calm and quite conversational throughout the meal as he asked about what Walker was doing to his childhood home, as well as getting more background information on the papers as they dined . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“I do believe I saw you brought the papers,” Dr. Schissler said.

“Some of them,” Walker replied, picking up the bag and handing it to Dr. Schissler.

Dr. Schissler looked at the contents without opening the bag, looking intrigued, not upset, which granted Walker a lot of relief, considering how uptight Dr. Schissler had seemed about the papers over the phone.

“Zina kept a diary?” Dr. Schissler asked, sounding surprised, yet not altogether like he was expecting Walker to give him an answer.

“They supplied a lot of the information,” Walker said. “But they were hard to read.”

“Why?” Dr. Schissler asked, looking up at Walker critically.

“Well, just, they were, they made me mad,” Walker replied.

“Mad?” Dr. Schissler asked.

“Yeah,” Walker replied. “Some of the stupid stuff your dad would get mad at, it didn’t make any sense to me, and how he treated your mom. Like, I went to the archives to look up old editions of the Press because she said your mom had been injured in a car accident, but didn’t give a lot of details, and, like, your mom was the victim and her name wasn’t even mentioned. I mean, maybe it was convention of the day that they called her Mrs. Warner Schissler or whatever, but even you dad was just calling her his wife, not by her name.”

Dr. Schissler nodded, although he looked surprised.

“And, because my dad told me your dad was dead, I actually looked up the Press from the day he died and, like, your mom’s name isn’t even in the obituary,” Walker added. “There was, like, at least five other obituaries in the paper, and every single one of them had the spouse’s name, whether the spouse was dead or alive, except your dad’s. I got so mad. It’s not convention anymore to refer to a woman like that, and to forget a spouse’s name in the entire obituary?”

A muscle in Dr. Schissler’s jaw twitched in response to the expletive Walker had inserted into the sentence.

“Sorry,” Walker apologised. “But that kind of thing, that’s unheard-of.”

“It wasn’t something I noticed,” Dr. Schissler replied. “And I wasn’t really old enough to read the article of the accident. I’m surprised you would get upset about it.”

“I know what it’s like to be left out, even by people who are supposed to actually love me, but, I mean, it’s probably easier for a parent to forget about a child than it is for a husband to forget about his wife,” Walker replied. “And I think it was more than just forgetting, I think he deliberately left her out, and it’s just, why?”

“I’ve never found the answer to that question myself,” Dr. Schissler replied. “And trust me, I’ve been looking for probably forty years.”

What Nobody Saw: Day 9

Word Count: 54,120

Summary of Events:

Walker read through some more of the diaries, but found it hard to read them for long before he got so angry at the record of Mr. Schissler's unkind treatments of his wife and children that he wanted to destroy something. Because of the fact that he'd made connections to Dr. Schissler from multiple different sources, Walker made the choice to contact him regarding the papers that he'd found in the hopes of finding out if anyone in the Schissler family wanted them . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Looking at the number, Walker felt nervousness creep into his chest and make his breastbone feel cold; he didn’t know why he was so nervous, but he was as he woke up his cellphone in order to make the call.

His hand shaking a little bit, he tapped the numbers in the order they were written on the paper until finally he’d tapped them all, then he tapped the green button to call the number and put his cellphone to his ear.

After three trills sounded in his ear there was an answer from a calm, level, professional-sounding male voice: “Hello?”

“Hello,” Walker replied, feeling nervous. “Is this Dr. Jonas Schissler?”

“It is,” the man replied. “And who is speaking?”
Walker took a deep breath. “Walker Kuznecov.”

“And why are you calling?” Dr. Schissler asked.

Desperately Walker looked toward the script he’d written out, fearing that he would feel like this. He didn’t like talking to people he didn’t know over the phone.

“Well, I, um, I work in construction and renovation, and in the house that we’re working on I found some papers I think belong to you,” Walker replied. “And your siblings, and I was wondering if you might want to have them.”

“Is that so?” Dr. Schissler asked, his voice sounding tightened.

Walker swallowed nervously. “I’m willing to show you the papers and you can let me know if, um, they’re yours and, um, what you might want to do with them.”

“I think that would be a good idea,” Dr. Schissler said. “When are you available?”

“Um . . .” Walker got up and went over to the schedules magnetically affixed to the front of his refrigerator and looked. “I’m free Saturday from ten to one.”

“We’ll meet for lunch,” Dr. Schissler replied, naming a restaurant that made Walker’s eyes pop open; it was one of the nicest restaurants in Winnipeg, and not one that was part of any sort of international chain or franchise, but one that was uniquely Winnipeg.

“Um, sure,” Walker replied.

“Eleven thirty,” Dr. Schissler replied brusquely.

“Yessir,” Walker replied.

“See you then,” Dr Schissler replied.

“Will do,” Walker replied.

He heard the line go quiet on Dr. Schissler’s end before he removed the phone from his cheek and ended the call on his side. He then opened the calendar app and input the lunch, with a reminder so he wouldn’t forget an hour in advance.

Even once he’d slid his cellphone back into his pocket Walker still felt shaky. Dr. Schissler had sounded mostly professional until Walker had brought up the papers, then he’d felt like there’d been a brooding anger simmering under the surface and had been petrified that Dr. Schissler was going to come through his cellphone and beat the living snot out of him.

What Nobody Saw: Day 8

Word Count: 48,003

Summary of Events:

Walker started reading the diaries and learned Mrs. Schissler was injured in a car accident, but wasn't given a lot of details. Wanting to know more, Walker hunted for old issues of the Winnipeg Free Press and discovered an article telling that Mrs. Schissler had nearly died, and had miscarried a sixth child as a result of the accident; he was also surprisingly angered at the observation that Mrs. Schissler's first name, Jolene, was never used. He was still upset about it later when he went to batting practise for his recreational team and ended up powering a baseball into a backyard across the street before explaining to his friend at third base that he was convinced Mr. Schissler had deliberately omitted his wife's name from even his own obituary . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“How do you know he didn’t put her name in?” Corbin asked.

“Do you really think anyone else would deliberately omit a woman’s name from her husband’s obituary?” Walker asked. “Every single other obituary in that edition of the Press had the significant other’s name in the obituary whether they were dead or alive.”

“And you’re pretty impassioned about it,” Corbin said.

“It’s abuse!” Walker cried.

“Really?” Corbin asked.

“She has a name, she is a person,” Walker replied.

“Whom you don’t know,” Corbin said. “I ask again, why does this matter?”

Walker wanted to get mad, but he caught himself. He hadn’t told anyone about the papers, about what he’d learned; Jay and Finnegan and the others on the work crew were more likely to know what he was going on about than his friends.

He sighed and shook his head. “It’s just bothering me.”

“I mean, we should act when we see someone else being abused,” Corbin said. “But if the abuser’s dead what can we do?”

Walker nodded.

“Coach!” the young catcher yelled.

Glancing toward the kid, Walker saw him pointing and turned to see Marshall jogging across the street with the ball in hand, and looking like he wanted to do a long toss.

Quickly Walker stabbed his foot onto third base and tore for home plate just as Marshall got the ball airborne.

“Do you realise how far you hit that thing?” Marshall yelled. “I didn’t find it ’til the third house!”

Walker picked up his bat and gave a look to his fellow catcher. He was just as impressed as everyone else, he’d thought his annihilation of the punching bag at the gym for forty minutes would’ve been enough, but apparently not.

The fact that his heart rate hadn’t been slow in rising when he tried to explain things without being clear to Corbin also surprised him; why was he so angry? Corbin was right, since Mr. Schissler was dead it wasn’t like he could do anything to give Jolene justice — other than maybe to use her name — so what was the point?

Still, if it would help him hit home runs so far out of the park that the fielders would have to go knocking on doors to get the ball back, he might have to keep it in the back of his mind, especially when the bases were loaded.

“I guess I’ll go get suited up,” he said quietly.

“Hopefully you won’t throw them as hard as you’re hitting them,” his fellow catcher quipped.

Walker nodded and jogged over to the dugout — which wasn’t actually really a dugout so much as it was a shed — and started strapping on his catching gear. The more he’d thought about it since his visit to the archives, the more he was convinced that it was not Jolene who’d put the unopened mail up in the corner of the attic, but Warner; the question was: why?

What Nobody Saw: Day 7

Word Count: 42,108

Summary of Events:

Walker went to the Winnipeg Jets' first game of the playoffs, where he ended up having an attractive young woman sit beside him; he struck up a conversation with her during the first intermission and learned that she was the daughter of one of the doctors that worked with Dr. Schissler, as well as learning that she'd actually played — and been the only player to score — against him in the charity game before they got talking about what what they did for work, which caused him to find out she was still wondering what secondary schooling to take . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

“You mean you’re only nineteen?” Walker asked.

“For another few months yes,” she replied. “Right at the beginning of the school year I turn another year older.”

“Oh,” Walker said. “Is the fact that both your parents are doctors making you want or not want to do medicine?”

“Not,” she replied. “I wouldn’t be opposed to being a paramedic or something, but I don’t know.”

“You could be a firefighter,” Walker suggested. “Or, you know, you could go into the trades.”

“I want to do something exciting, but fires make me anxious,” she replied.

“Why?” Walker asked.

“All the things people lose in fires that can never be replaced,” she replied. “My grandparents had a fire before I was born and they lost all kinds of pictures and all their love letters to each other, and it made them really sad that they couldn’t share those things with me and all the rest of us.”

“Oh,” Walker said. “You could be a cop then.”

“I’ve thought about that one the most,” she replied. “Either that or the army.”

“That might be alright,” Walker replied. “I considered the army too, I mean, I possibly could still be a reservist if I wanted, but I don’t know.”

She nodded and they lapsed into silence as the second period began.

“So why did it matter to you that my mom’s name was on the boards at the charity game?” she asked.

“It wasn’t so much her name as one of the other names, actually,” Walker replied.

“Which one?” she asked.

“Um, Dr. Schissler,” Walker replied.

“What about him?” she asked.

“Well, I think I’m currently working on his childhood home,” Walker replied.

“That might be possible,” she replied. “He jokes that Mom and Aunt Tricia chased him through school.”

“Oh,” Walker said.

“Aunt Tricia won the race,” she replied.

“What do you mean?” Walker asked.

“She married him,” she replied.

“So you mean Dr. Schissler’s your uncle?” Walker asked.

“Yep,” she replied.

“Oh,” Walker said. “Wow. I didn’t expect that.”

“Mom and Aunt Tricia are twins,” she added.

“What do you know of Dr. Schissler’s family?” Walker asked.

“Why do you want to know?” she asked.

“Um, I found some stuff I think somebody forgot in the attic, and I was hoping to find out if they might still want it,” Walker replied.

“Well I don’t know anything more than you could probably find out anywhere, Uncle Jonas doesn’t talk about his family, and according to my cousins they don’t get together with the Schissler side,” she replied. “It sounds like he has stuff to do with one of his sisters and maybe one of his brothers, but that’s it, he didn’t even go to his dad’s funeral.”

“Oh,” Walker said, although as it sank in he felt like it wasn’t actually as surprising as it had initially struck him; if Warren Schissler had been controlling Walker could see that causing his children to not be all that crazy about him.

What Nobody Saw: Day 6

Word Count: 36,062

Summary of Events:

Walker started sorting through the personal papers from the attic, sorting the diaries chronologically and trying to group the remaining papers by writing style as much as he could; while he was doing so he discovered a photo of a stunningly beautiful woman who looked like she could've been a movie star . . .

Excerpt of the Day:

Was this Mrs. Schissler?

Walker turned the photo over and compared the handwriting on the front of the diary to that on the back of the photo. They were the same. The diaries, he knew, were written by Zina thanks to a process of elimination — she’d mentioned Wanda by name and talked about wanting dresses, plus the writing on the diaries took on a distinctly feminine appearance as the years advanced — thus if she was identifying the woman in the photograph as her mother, then that meant that, indeed, the spellbindingly beautiful woman in the photo was Mrs. Jolene Schissler.

By now Walker wagered Mrs. Schissler would have grey hair, as she’d probably at least been in her thirties when this photo was taken, which was forty years ago, thus she was presently in her seventies; unless she had the anti-grey genes that Grandpa Felix’s mother had, as there were photos of her at the age of eighty and her hair wasn’t even close to grey.

Thumbing through the diary, Walker found another photo of a handsome young man who looked significantly younger than Mrs. Schissler, having a youthful appearance in spite of his mature clothes and hairstyle.

On the back of it was a different hand: Love Always, Milt Forster, 1979.

Walker guessed it was Zina’s boyfriend. He looked at the page and found an entry that matched:

Friday, 27 April 1979

Milty’s family got their photos yesterday and he gave me one! He looks so dreamy! I wish I were old enough to get married already so that I could be his wife.

He gave it to me when he came to pick up Maureen and offered to drive me most of the way home. I really wanted to go, but I knew I’d have to be down off the clouds by the time I got home or Dad would be asking questions, so I told him it’d have to be another time.

I didn’t actually look at the back of the photo until I came home and it was all I could do to be sober by the time we had supper, Milty wrote ‘love always’ on the back. He actually really likes me! If I could get married now I would and then I could be out from under Dad’s control and actually be able to be happy without having to be interrogated.

Honestly, when people wonder what it’s got to be like to live behind the Iron Curtain, I think I probably know better than anyone. Dad could be a Soviet dictator without even trying; speaking of which, I should get on my homework so he doesn’t come in here and yell at me.

Walker closed both photos back into the diary and flipped to the front page before placing it on the stack where it belonged chronologically. Everything he was seeing in these papers was pointing toward an unpleasant, unhappy existence in the Schissler household beyond what he might have ever imagined.