Carter's Fortress - 18. Chapter 18

The snow drifted down from the dark sky, the first few flakes settling on Will's shoulders as he stood beside Libbet Avery watching them as they laid her father to rest. He stood impassively, staring in blank shell-shock at the urn before them that was about to be buried alongside that of Robert's beloved wife, Katherine.

The Avery estates outside of Toronto were packed with mourners, officials from the financial world and political worlds gathered together to pay their respects. The Prime Minister of Canada along with most of his cabinet were present, a few ambassadors, senators and some foreign dignitaries.

Will felt a hand touch the small of his back reassuringly. Marc was standing behind him, and as always the young man found a way to convey his own feelings of sympathy, and Will closed his eyes and swallowed back on his emotions.

He adjusted the heavy greatcoat on his shoulders, trying his hardest to follow what the priest was saying, but his mind was scattered. Robert had been such an important force in his life, a guiding hand that had steered him when he felt rudderless... even in those last few precious moments he had given Will advice.

Unbidden, the tears slipped from his eyes, rolling down his cheeks as he reached up to brush them away. Real men didn't cry, real men had a stiff upper lip, were strong for the people who were relying on him. He would have a lot to do, and he had no idea where to begin. He was at a loss and there was no hand on his shoulder guiding him.

He swallowed again as the pastor turned and beckoned for him to step up to the podium. Of all the people Robert could have chosen, his wishes were for Will to deliver his eulogy, before industrialists and statesmen, employees and family. Will steadied his emotions as he walked around to the podium in the light dusting of snow that was now steadily falling.

He stared at the simple black urn that was all that remained of Robert and turned away again, the emotions of the moment catching up to him as he steadied himself.

"Tyrone and Libbet," he glanced at the survivors of the Avery family, the brother and sister standing together united in their own grief, "distinguished guests, Mister Prime Minister, Reverend Dean..." He swallowed and steadied himself again.

"We all have suffered a great loss in the passing of a great man. We will miss his tempered guidance, his strong spirit and the enduring hope that he brought to people. We are saying good-bye here today to a man that brought change to the present in the hopes of a better tomorrow. And though he now belongs to the past, I wish it weren't so..."

He clutched the side of the podium and took a long breath, "He often said his greatest gifts were his two children, Tyrone and Elizabeth Avery, who he felt were his greatest treasures, his brightest hopes and his fondest dreams. Canada grieves with you and your families today."

"And on this snow-filled day in the middle of November we are laying to rest a true Canadian success story. A man born to poverty on Grafton Street to a hero of World War Two and a librarian. Robert Avery was raised playing in the streets of one of Canada's poorest neighborhoods, reading books and dreaming of a future where he wasn't held back by the color of his skin, but accepted for the blood that ran through his veins... Canadian blood."

"It was there that he met and married the woman who remained by his side until her own passing, the woman whose side, now, we return him to."

"Robert Avery worked hard, turning a small firm into a giant in the telecommunications industry, branching out into manufacturing, public relations, and the media. He once told me he used to stare up at the stars and dream that his name would be amongst them. Currently, Avery-Woods has a multimillion-dollar communications satellite orbiting the earth providing services to people around the globe. I'd say he accomplished his dream."

Will straightened up, "When, at last, he was called to serve his country as a politician, he stepped forward. And although it was only for the briefest of times, he served with dedication, duty and honour. They say dying in office is the ultimate dedication to duty. I say that it is a true shame that he could not complete the work that he started, and I know that would be his dearest wish, to see the principles of equality he fought for his entire life continue to be fought for by his friends and colleagues."

Will took a deep breath and swallowed, "I'd like to end on a quote Robert used at the recent Remembrance Day ceremony, and one that I think applies directly to how we all feel for him. "No one's death comes to pass without making some impression, and those close to the deceased inherit part of the liberated soul and become richer in their humaneness." Good-bye Robert, Mister Avery..."

* * *

Will lifted his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he walked through the reception being held in the old house. Strangely, the house felt empty even though it was filled with people. And Will, who had been there so many times in the recent years realized that he had always come with the expectation of seeing his old mentor.

The long nights of talking in the book-lined study about work, or the many myriad of parties held there for various different businessmen and potential clients--all of them had been overseen by a rolling, boisterous laugh and an indomitable presence that was uniquely Robert.

Will blew out another sigh as he shook another set of hands he barely recognized, accepting praise on a fine speech and condolences over the loss of his mentor. He inclined his head to them and excused himself, trying to find Libbet or Tyrone to make sure they were okay, see if they needed him for anything.

Lisa caught his eye while holding little Aiden on the upper landing of the main hall; she flashed him a sympathetic smile as she continued to talk with the new President of Avery-Woods, Samuel Jordan.

Will glanced down, loosening his tie as he turned away, heading for the study that had been Robert's sanctum. He needed to stop; stop playing the dutiful aide; stop trying to make sure everyone else was all right. He needed to breathe and that was the only place he could be certain wouldn't be crowded by people. Once the heavy oak door was closed he shivered with loss and leaned heavily on a bookcase.

The room smelled of books, a smell that Will could identify with Robert. In a strange way the house didn't feel so empty there, it was as if this was where Robert chose to be, a sense of presence that steadied Will and gave him the strength he needed... a gentle hand on his shoulder to steer him.

"You feel him, too," Libbet said, startling Will as he glanced over to where she was sitting behind Robert's desk looking so small in that large chair.

He hadn't seen her when he had come in, and he felt embarrassed as he stood up and wiped his eyes dry again. "I'm sorry, I can go..."

Libbet had one of Robert's cigars in her hands fingering it delicately as she looked about her at the room. "I was always so scared to come in here as a little girl, it was always so forbidden. It's strange, but since..." she sighed, "I still think he is going to come through that door at any moment and tell me I am not supposed to be in here..."

Will nodded, "I can understand that. It's funny--I keep expecting him to materialize behind me, give me some words of advice on how to deal with all of this."

She looked up at him, "He'd say you were handling things just fine."

"Thanks," Will said with a nod. "I should get back out to the guests..."

"Will," she said looking over at him from behind the desk, "I am sure he would say thank you as well."

"I know," Will said sadly as he turned and rejoined the reception.

* * *

"Mister Carter." The voice stopped Will as he walked across the library towards the French doors and the terrace beyond. He was looking to get some air, but that was cut short by the man blocking his path.

Will looked at the Canadian Prime Minister and stopped. "Yes, Prime Minister?" he said turning to accept the man's pre-offered hand. He felt the strong grip and a pair of heavy eyes studying his face.

"You gave a good speech out there today," the PM said nodding to the windows and the gardens beyond.

"Thank you," Will replied. "I was just expressing what we all felt."

"Indeed," the PM said, placing a hand on Will's arm and guiding him towards the two men Will recognized from the hospital the other day. "Let me introduce you to a couple of people. This is Claude Robichaud, the Federal Liberal Caucus Chair, and this is Tom Redding, the Ontario Caucus Chair."

Will bowed his head to each of them, "Gentlemen." He glanced at the PM questioningly.

"You were Robert's campaign manager, weren't you?" Redding asked, accepting a glass of scotch that a caterer extended to him.

Will politely refused a drink and nodded, "I was his chief of staff as well."

"Oui," Robichaud interrupted in his heavy Acadian accent, "Monseiur Avery spoke very highly of you."

Will nodded. "Thank you," he said, a little uncertain of where this was leading.

"I wanted to ask you," Redding said, glancing at the PM, "what your plans are now."

Will honestly hadn't thought about it; he had been consumed by the funeral arrangements and such and he hadn't even considered that with Robert gone he was out of a job. "I.. well," Will said thoughtfully, "I was thinking of sticking with the Ministry until such times as the new Minister of Heritage is selected and then... I'm really not sure."

"Dedication to duty," Redding said more for the PM's benefit than for Will's. "Have you applied to any other ministries? There are a few in need of a talented individual."

Will shook his head, "I don't know if I would be happy working for another minister. I might retake my old position at Avery-Woods; at least there I can have a bit of control over what I am doing."

"Ambitious, too," the PM responded to Redding, and Will got the decided impression he was being interviewed for something.

"What's going on?" he asked, folding his arms and raising an eyebrow.

"Robert Avery nominated you to replace him as the Liberal candidate in his riding," Redding said matter-of-factly. "He firmly believed you have what the riding is looking for."

"Which is?" Will said, realizing he was in trouble.

"It's a vital seat," the PM said softly, glancing around. "Without it we are a second term minority government with the rest of the house vote split up by three parties; we will have to broker a deal with either the NDP or the Bloc parties to get anything passed. With that seat squarely liberal in the upcoming by-election... we'd retain control."

"You didn't answer my question," Will said firmly.

"The riding is primarily a minority-based vote," Redding said, "which was why Robert was able to do as well as he did. We need...another...minority candidate there to guarantee victory."

Will crossed his arms, "Meaning you need me because I am gay."

"It's more than that," the PM soothed. "The constituents know your face, they recognize your name. You are familiar with their issues and concerns... out of all our potential choices you are the best chance we have of winning."

Will looked at the three men looking at him and he glanced up and out of the window to where the memorial stone lay. Not even a day in the ground and the wolves were fighting over the scraps he left behind.

"I'll have to think about it," Will said firmly. "Now if you'll excuse me I have things to attend to."

* * *

The three men watched him walk away as the PM turned to his two advisors, "What are your thoughts?"

"Intelligent, ambitious and definitely a skilled speech writer," Redding said. "He's got looks, too, which will help, especially with the Church Street residents."

The PM nodded, "Looks a bit like..." he snapped his fingers.

"James Dean," Redding supplied, "Rebel Without a Cause."

"Liberal without a caucus." The PM chuckled, glancing at Robichaud, "It's your call, Claude."

"He needs convincing," Robichaud said thoughtfully. "We ran a background check as soon as Robert suggested him, he's clean. Strong school and work record, no indiscretions in his love life..." He chuckled at that, "All things considered, he's a bloody saint."

"A boy scout; good," the PM said decisively. "I want him on the card for that election, do whatever you have to do, just win me that last seat."