Anything is Possible

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

by Barbara McDonell

Copyright 2016 Barbara McDonell

Smashwords Edition

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to the book page and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

There’s no use trying, Alice said. One can’t believe impossible things.

I daresay you haven’t had much practice, said the Queen. "When I was

your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I’ve

believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."

-excerpt from Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Why I Wrote this Book

Other Titles by this Author

Connect with this Author

ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

CHAPTER 1

Sea monster sighting? Luc Gagnon repeated with dismay as he switched the phone to his other ear. Mon dieu, Joe, you’ve got to be kidding! Stretching long jean-clad legs onto his desk, he glanced out the window of his condo and watched a tiny ferry chug across Victoria’s busy Inner Harbor– just one of the perks of working almost exclusively from home. I’m a serious investigative reporter, not a novice!

Then investigate! his Times boss snapped in a smoke-wracked voice.

Sounds like something right up Jennifer Higgins’ alley, Luc suggested. She’s into all that wacky woo-woo stuff. Give it to her.

Jennifer barfed all over her desk so I sent her home, Joe said. Everyone else is busy with other assignments. You’re ‘it’.

You really want me to waste time checking—

Luc, Cadborosaurus was first sighted in Victoria waters in 1928. Not saying I believe in the beast, but there’ve been over a hundred alleged sightings since then. Nothing recent. Now two reports – bam bam!

What sucker got the first assignment?

No one, I ignored it. But this is the second call in six days. Hard to ignore that.

Luc smiled wryly when Joe contrived his signature `pregnant pause’. Too smart to fall for the familiar tactic he himself used extensively, he silently counted. Eight seconds was Joe’s M.O., just long enough to make most people uncomfortable enough to start jabbering, often confessing more than they intended. Six, seven...

Guess you were lying when you told me you hoped to score a blockbuster story by age forty, Joe said.

I’ve got another year and a half.

Think what this tip could mean if it were true.

Immediately, Luc envisioned his byline on the front page of every newspaper across Canada. He’d dreamed about that since his teens as a paperboy, when the odds of fame had seemed about as likely as getting kidnapped by aliens.

He gazed up at his two award certificates framed on the wall – one local, the other provincial. Though they’d been important milestones in his career, he’d always strived toward the highest rung of the ladder. These days even worldwide fame was possible with Internet stories going viral all the time. Yet it wasn’t fame he was after as much as the satisfaction of achieving the best of his ability and being acknowledged for it.

Was this assignment his big chance? Doubtful. He’d quit believing in dragons at six, had never swallowed theories that couldn’t be backed up with cold hard facts and he wasn’t about to start now. Chasing after an alleged sea monster witness would be a waste of time. It could make him look like a damn fool too. He’d certainly been one of those before and he had no desire to repeat the experience.

"What if, Luc? Joe repeated. Look, you’re working from home and today’s staff meeting isn’t scheduled till eleven-thirty. Why don’t you check out the tip before coming in? Jump on it before the old lady who called it in spills her guts to our competitor."

Raking hands through hair he hadn’t made time to cut for a few months, Luc elbowed the file on prescription drug abuse aside with a sigh. That exposé was evergreen; it could wait indefinitely if it had to because the drug problem wasn’t going away any time soon and a delay would only produce new evidence.

What a way to start the week.

Grabbing a pencil and notepad, he resigned himself. Gimme the name and address.

........................

Thirty minutes later the top stair of the big old house gave way, trapping Luc’s shoe under a warped board. He stooped and rescued the toe of his blue suede loafer before stepping onto the rickety porch.

From the general rundown condition of the place it was no surprise when the bell didn’t work. He knocked on the door with red peeling paint, setting off barking from somewhere inside the house.

Shifting the Nikon slung across one shoulder, he loosened the tie Joe insisted he wear for interviews and gazed up at an open window on the second story. The windows were bracketed by green shutters, a couple slumping off its hinges. He admired gables on the steeply sloping roof. The house had character, had probably been glorious in its day and probably could be again with some minor repairs.

No response to his knock. He turned to get his bearings on the area.

Not a breath of wind rustled nearby trees - unusual for this windy city, even in July. Only two residences sat isolated at the dead end of this narrow waterfront road...this one, where the supposed sea monster witness lived, and the small cottage beside it that housed the tipster who also hadn’t answered her door.

Despite some low bushes on the water side, the sea view was unobstructed. A chilly late-July mist had lifted from the shore but obscured the small islands he knew lay a mile or so beyond Cadboro Bay.

On the beach, waves lapped listlessly at the shore. Three sea gulls perched silently on logs and waited for gusts to invite them to rise screeching into the sky.

He turned back to the door and knocked again – louder and longer this time. Why wasn’t this dotty sea monster witness answering?

Finally, he heard footsteps.

A moment later, the door creaked open an inch. A quivering black nose was all he could see, sniffing near the lower half.

Back, Clem! a female voice ordered.

The nose disappeared.

The door opened. Just wide enough so the woman inside could see Luc but all he could see of her was one suspicious eye and a bare foot with fluorescent blue toenails.

Well? Although her voice was soft, it had a decided edge to it.

Luc glanced down at his notes. I…ah, I’m looking for Miss…McKenzie.

What do you want with her?

Her tone was definitely not welcoming. I’ll discuss that with Miss McKenzie, he countered.

When she hesitated, he braced himself for the door to slam in his face. To his surprise, it opened a bit wider.

‘Pretty’ didn’t begin to cover it.

He jotted notes in his mind: Red hair curled down to her shoulders, a pert nose with a couple of pale freckles across the bridge, a tiny body that he doubted would top five feet. Aged about thirty, give or take a few.

She wore a long pastel-colored skirt that wound possessively around damp legs that were silhouetted by light from the hallway behind. Gossamer? Was that how such see-through fabric was properly described? Yeah, he thought so. Although she was short, those legs were long, seeming to extend for seventy-five percent of her body.

Her long-sleeved black top was tight-fitting, V-necked. His eyes followed a silver and amber necklace that disappeared into the shadow between her small breasts.

Luc looked up. His eyes met hers and he realized that she’d watched him taking inventory. From her unsmiling face, she wasn’t happy about it either. Although her bare feet didn’t move, she seemed to pull back slightly. Maybe because he was staring?

While she unconsciously lifted one sandy bare foot and rubbed it against the other, her eyes narrowed - such startling color , a light turquoise that made him think of tropical waters.

In that case, she said finally, begrudgingly, I’m Miss McKenzie. Who’s asking?

Luc shoved hands into his pockets, fumbled for I.D., giving her the smile to which most people responded. He nearly dropped his business card onto her dainty feet.

"Luc R. Gagnon, Victoria Times," he managed to say as he handed it over.

She refused the handshake he offered. Feeling an uncharacteristic need to gain control, he rested one arm against the doorframe, towering over her despite the wild red hair that haloed her head like a fur collar on a frosty day.

Unlike most people who gave his I.D. a cursory glance, she actually took it. Studied it intensely. Glanced up twice to compare him with the photo.

Your hair’s longer, she commented.

He sensed that was a criticism. Not wanting to break eye contact, he found it a struggle to look down at his notebook for the specifics his boss had given him. Your neighbor, Mrs. Jupp, phoned to claim you were out in your rowboat this morning and saw Cadborosaurus.

When cows fly.

Luc smirked.

What? she snapped with a frown.

"The expression is ‘when pigs fly’."

She glared at him.

If she’d come to the door and not opened her mouth he’d have thought her to be fragile. She certainly looked it with eyes so pale that they seemed unfocused, wearing clothes that hadn’t been fashionable since the hippy-dippy sixties, long before either of them was born.

Despite her obvious discomfort, Luc suspected she was more in command than she appeared. Now her eyes seemed veiled, as if a velvet theater curtain had dropped over them. She was standing her ground, not making things easy for him.

As a reporter, it was important to make quick judgments about people. It saved valuable time if he knew whether to question someone deeper or just walk away. In his perception, this young woman would tend toward gullibility, have a vivid imagination and, judging from the phone tip, believe the impossible.

Are you denying you saw the creature? he asked.

Sarah is kind and a good neighbor but she enjoys the limelight.

"So you’re telling me you didn’t see anything out there, even though your `kind’ neighbor claims you told her you did."

He half-expected her to say, `No comment’.

Surprising him again, she answered, Oh, I saw something all right.

Okay, this was more like it. If she gave him a statement about her sighting, he’d print it together with evidence to dispute the likelihood. That would get his boss off his back and allow him to move on to serious reporting.

He leaned closer.

She made him wait.

Two seals and an otter, that’s what I saw, she said with an annoyingly smug smile. It’s never dull out on the ocean.

Although Luc didn’t believe the reported sighting for a minute, he guessed Miss McKenzie believed in ghosts and goblins so sea monsters didn’t seem much of a stretch. Nonetheless, even he was willing to consider that she might have seen something unusual out there. Why was she denying it?

This was going nowhere. Five more minutes, Gagnon. Then you can tell Joe you gave it your best shot. Nothing bearing resemblance to a sea monster then? he asked, just to be sure.

"They’re sea serpents, not monsters. And Sarah has a delightful imagination."

This woman was lying. She was touchy about his terminology and that said something. Just what, he wasn’t sure, but his gut told him more was going on here than the touch-me-and-I’ll-evaporate Miss McKenzie wanted him to know.

Sea monsters rate about as high as Elvis sightings in my book. He launched his practiced pause, hoping it would make her nervous enough to speak into it. Seven, eight. Well, that didn’t work. However, he said into her silence, as a reporter I have to check these things out.

She met his gaze head-on. Those eyes seemed deeper than eyes ought to be, wiser, as if they’d seen things he’d never even dreamed of. Luc was mesmerized by their mystery.

Sorry you wasted your time, she said dryly, clearly not sorry at all as she stepped back and readied to shut the door.

Luc came to with a start, frustratingly incapable of inventing a ploy to delay her disappearance.

As the door began to close, the dog whined and hooked a furry paw around the frame, forcing it wider. Miss McKenzie bent to grab the purple bandana tied around the neck of what he now saw was a Golden Retriever without an identity tag.

The dog snorted and tried to sniff Luc’s leg but couldn’t quite reach it. A guttural growl was followed by bared sharp teeth.

Luc stepped back quickly. Sorry to have bothered you.

The mutt lunged.

With a vicious shake of his head, the dog grabbed Luc’s pant leg between his powerful jaws.

CHAPTER 2

Minutes later, Daria McKenzie peeked through her lacy kitchen curtains and watched the disgruntled man limp into Sarah Jupp’s front yard. His expletives still rang in her ears – colorful, creative and punctuated in an incredibly deep, French-accented voice.

The tall reporter was nosy and wouldn’t be easy to convince that Sarah’s story was fabricated. Even though he’d alluded to being cynical, he was the press and press never let the possibility of front page news escape them.

Despite his brooding brown eyes that were closed to possibilities, she’d have to be clever to discourage this intense man with his intelligent face. On the other hand, as long as he didn’t believe in Caddy she should be safe.

She pulled her cell phone from a pocket, hoping she could convince her neighbor to discount the story. If Sarah was willing to play the little-old-lady-losing-her-mind-card it would protect Daria from unwanted publicity.

But Sarah didn’t answer the call. That was worrisome. If Luc R. Gagnon tracked her neighbor down, how convincing would she be?

Daria recalled the man’s aristocratic nose in a no-nonsense face. Not handsome really, but compelling nonetheless, despite dark hair that urged her to grab scissors. He had a lived-in face with stories of its own.

Despite his statement that sea monsters rated as high as Elvis sightings in his book, the man wore blue suede shoes, for God’s sake! Though he obviously didn’t accept that Elvis still lived, it appeared that he rated ‘The King’ highly. Or at least his footwear.

If only this morning her excitement hadn’t overwhelmed common sense! She’d had to tell somebody and unfortunately that had been chatty Sarah who was collecting seaweed for her garden when Daria had moored her rowboat.

Sometimes ‘if onlys’ threatened to make her life one long regret.

Standing beside her, Clem jumped up, leaned his huge paws on her chest and dragged a sandpaper tongue across her cheek. Realizing she hadn’t been so enthusiastically kissed for far too long, she buried her face in his soft ruff.

She’d quit dating long ago, disillusioned by men who were initially attracted by her independence and offbeat personality but later tried to change her into someone more conventional. Despite her expectation that someone wonderful would magically appear, given self-imposed isolation after her father’s nasty media exposure, it was no surprise that no such person had shown up.

It didn’t help matters that she enjoyed her own company so much that her best friend teased about her hermit-like life. For the past year, very-married Niki had been promoting PlentyOfFish.com. Just the idea of online dating gave Daria the shakes. She’d have to be insane to sign up on a system that had no method of sifting out men who were married, who were bores, jerks, or psychopaths. Now thirty-three, she’d found peace and contentment by spending time with her dog and conducting her home-based business in solitude.

Her life wasn’t about finding a man. Even if Mr. Right never manifested that wouldn’t necessarily mean giving up her dream of children...once her livelihood was better established, adoption as a single woman was an option. However, her vision of raising kids came complete with a partner to share the mumps, bumps and thumps of childhood and the challenges through troublesome teenage years.

Cuddled against her chest, Clem squirmed and gave her another moist slurp. Then, with the dog at her heels, she headed to her studio at the rear of the house, annoyed at this Gagnon fellow’s interruption of her work.

The man had brought back bad memories. Like it had happened days ago, she pictured the throng of media standing on her porch with intrusive cameras, their microphones shoved in her family’s faces, demanding statements they later disregarded or ridiculed and misquoted.

She couldn’t bear history to repeat itself.

If this guy ended up accepting her sighting he could dig deeper. And that would ruin everything. She needed to keep it a secret.

........................

Luc located Sarah Jupp down on her knees, weeding her back garden.

Wearing a blue-ribboned cocktail hat with an oversized muu muu, she was exactly what he’d expected Miss McKenzie would be: About ninety years old, plump, wrinkled by sun and good humor.

Introducing himself, he briefly recounted his visit next door while the woman’s two Siamese cats wove themselves around his ankles.

But it’s true! Mrs. Jupp insisted, pushing aside a basket of dandelion roots. Word for word, jest like Daria told me and like I told your editor. I thought it was big news, hoped there’d be a monetary reward because, land sakes, that gal could use some extra cash.

Daria. The name sounded like a fragile flower and matched her appearance...though he’d already learned that was deceptive.

…maybe fifteen feet long, Mrs. Jupp was saying. Green, or maybe brown, she wasn’t sure, what with the distance ‘n fog and all, and a snake-like head hardly wider than its long neck.

The woman seemed damned sure of her details and after serving him three cups of tea with homemade cookies, her story didn’t waver. With her dress covered in fur from the cats that now competed for her lap, Sarah Jupp didn’t strike him as anyone interested in being the center of more attention than she currently had. Had Miss McKenzie dissed her neighbor’s character to throw him off the scent?

She the fanciful type? Luc asked as he accepted another cookie.

Daria? She laughed. You’ve met her, ‘course she is! Ask me, it’s one of her most endearing qualities. Townsfolk say it runs in the family and from them it’s not a compliment. She doesn’t make things up though.

She live alone in that big house?

Nope. It was the original family home at the turn of the century – I mean the 19th, not the 20th . At that time my cottage here was the gardener’s quarters. When Daria’s parents married they moved in with Daria’s grandparents so she’s lived there all her life. Her mother died goin’ on eleven years ago and then her dad went about a year later. So sad...the three of them were very close. Now Daria shares the old homestead with Mildred and Frank and rents this cottage to me. Mrs. Jupp leaned closer and whispered behind an age-mottled hand: For half what she could.

Who are Mildred and Frank?

Nope, won’t tell you that, she replied, suddenly turning coy as she replaced the lid on the sugar bowl with a loud clunk. Don’t think Daria would like me tellin’ all her secrets. Mind, the gal’s open with those she trusts. I wouldn’t have let this outa the bag if my guldarned excitement hadn’t got outa hand.

She rose and loaded the teapot and empty teacups onto an antique sterling tray. The McKenzie family were pioneers of Victoria, mind, so if you’re really interested in their history it’s a matter of record.

As Luc stood to carry the tray, Sarah Jupp glanced down.

Somethin’ happen to your pant leg?

Miss McKenzie’s dog took aversion to it, he said with a grimace as she led him into her tiny kitchen.

The woman nodded, eyes twinkling with her reply. Clem’s a pussycat lessen he figures his mistress is threatened.

.........................

Planning his re-approach to the McKenzie house a few minutes later, Luc wondered if he had appeared threatening. Naw, the dog was over-protective.

When he knocked this time he was thankful to hear the animal’s bark sounding faint and hopefully now closed off at a safe distance.

Defying Joe’s tie rule, he pulled it over his head and folded it neatly into a pocket. Then he slung his sports jacket over one shoulder. That felt more comfortable and would hopefully make him appear more open and friendly.

When the door creaked open, Daria’s mouth was tight. Those eyes, he thought, taking a deep breath. No one had eyes that color, had to be contacts.

You again, she said, brows furled as she placed hands firmly on both hips.

As if she were trying to make herself look bigger, he thought with faint amusement. It didn’t quite come off. Nothing, he decided, could make this petite women look intimidating…although he had to admit her manner leaned in that direction.

At least she opened the door fully this time. He noticed her bare feet had dried and sand no longer decorated her colorful toenails.

"Now what do you want?" she demanded.

Whipping open his notebook, Luc ignored her less than encouraging greeting. Fifteen feet long, Sarah Jupp says you told her. Green or maybe brown. What do you say about that?

It’s a lie.

Pretty nasty words for a sweet old lady who makes dynamite chocolate chip cookies.

Absently, he flipped the page in an attempt to focus his eyes away from slender legs outlined beneath that sheer skirt. Clearing his throat, he resumed. I’m quoting here: ‘Snake-like head hardly wider than its long neck’.

When she didn’t respond, he took a step closer. I don’t believe in monsters, Miss McKenzie. Never did. He heard her sharp intake of breath and noticed her expressive eyes cloud. Ha, that veil once again. Not the tooth fairy either, he continued, and definitely not Cadborosaurus. If you can’t show me in black and white I’m inclined to doubt. How-ev-er, he added, drawing the word out for emphasis, hoping to reel her in, Mrs. Jupp is very convincing.

He left the statement hanging. Again, she didn’t take the bait.

Daria glared at the too tall reporter using manipulative media tactics she loathed. Although he clearly didn’t believe she’d seen Caddy, he wasn’t accepting her denial either.

Despite herself, she felt trapped by his height and insistence. By his stare.

She stepped back, noticing that he’d removed his staid gray jacket and boring striped tie. The plain blue shirt underneath was an improvement, particularly since he’d rolled the sleeves up to reveal nicely haired and muscled forearms.

Grasping for a diversion, she snapped, Why don’t you go back to chasing fire engines, Mr. Gagnon, before I sic my dog on you again.

Fires aren’t my beat, lady, and why doesn’t your killer mutt wear a collar? He doesn’t even have a licen—

"Clem is not a mutt! He’s a purebred Golden Retriever!"

Can he pay for the damage to my pants?

She took a deep breath. You were trespassing.

I was on legal business. I did nothing to warrant attack. Someone better be willing to pay for this, he said, pointing to the jagged tear.

Through the gap in the fabric, Daria saw tooth marks on his shin. That couldn’t be good. Though Clem could occasionally be protective he’d never bitten anyone before. If this guy wanted to he could make a federal case out of needing a tetanus shot. Even worse, if he got her charged with keeping a dangerous animal she could be forced to have Clem euthanized.

She couldn’t let that happen. Mentally, she put ‘dog license’ at the top of her financial priorities, aware that would mean sacrificing the carving tool she needed to replace the one that broke yesterday. Without that tool her work would come to a standstill. But how could she afford a replacement and a tailor’s fee on top of this month’s bills?

I forgot to renew his license, she muttered, hoping to diffuse the situation, wishing that he’d quit staring.

Somewhat irresponsible, I’d say.

"How dare you judge me!"

He continued to gawk in a way that made her glance down and wish she were wearing something more substantial. Like a suit of armor.

Oh, for God’s sake, she said finally. I’m sorry, all right? Leave your pants here. Your business card too so I can have them delivered when they’re mended.

Here’s my card, he said, flipping it from his lapel pocket into her hand. "Again, I might add, since you already tossed the first one in the recycle bin."

Daria did a double-take. Did the man have psychic vision? No, wait, that wasn’t possible - he didn’t believe in that kind of thing.

And about leaving my pants? I’m not going to strip down to my underwear right here, he added with an annoying smirk.

Bring them another day then, she said hoarsely, turning and walking inside before slamming the door in his arrogant face. Her cheeks were warm with equal parts of anger and embarrassment, proving just how annoyingly off-balance this man threw her.

.........................

With less than a minute to spare on arriving for the weekly staff meeting, Luc’s heels dragged a little when he entered the Times conference room.

Although he loved his job, particularly the writing process, his restraint related to the constant struggle to come up with a new story concept, a fresh angle, and then pitching it to management. Far too often his creative ideas were rejected.

Luc wanted more career clout and he had a plan to get it. A national story could win him a promotion and if he could supervise the investigative team he’d have authority to determine which stories were printed in future.

As he pulled out a chair, a co-worker wiggled his brows and gestured to his ripped pants. Did Cadborosaurus get you? he asked with a grin.

Wouldn’t that be a story? Luc thought as other staff erupted in laughter. Since the news of his latest assignment had already made the rounds, he prepared for their good-natured ribbing. A dog got me.

But I thought you loved dogs, someone else said.

"This one didn’t love me. Joe, how about some hazard pay?"

Good luck with that, his boss growled. Susie, pass out our agendas.

And the meeting began.

When it ended an hour later, Luc cornered his boss before the man disappeared for lunch.

No luck on the sea monster sighting, Luc reported. It doesn’t seem worth pursuing since the alleged witness denies it and I can’t do anything further without her cooperation.

Joe sighed. I wasn’t holding my breath but it seemed worth checking out.

"What was interesting was that Mrs. Jupp, the tipster you spoke with, insists her neighbor Daria McKenzie, the supposed witness, is honest. She told me that the moment Daria tied up her rowboat she shared details about the creature she saw. Mrs. Jupp lives next door and she’s gotta be in her early nineties but she’s sharp as a tack and stuck to the same