by Katie Tallo
“In that moment, Kep’s world seemed to right itself.
“First Amelia and now freedom. He sold the feed business. They traveled to Europe and when they returned home, Kep seemed a changed man. Lighter. More like his parents. He even smiled at people when he passed them in town. Amelia wanted to live in Halladay House so they made it their own. Gussied it up with velvet curtains and imported antiques from Italy. She built a large rose garden with a greenhouse out back, white picket fences, a trellis, and hedgerows. Summer evenings they were often seen strolling hand in hand down the sidewalks of Elgin after getting ice cream cones at the dairy bar.”
Gus is smiling despite herself. Carried away to a summer evening long ago. Transported by the pictures Renata paints with her words. But those pictures quickly shrivel and darken.
“Then news came that she was with child. Kep was forty-four. He handed out cigars at the barbershop and he bought fresh cut roses every day for his wife at the general store. He stopped people on the street to talk about the weather. Townsfolk warmed to the man for the first time in decades. Everything seemed to have worked out for one of their founding sons.
“Then one unusually crisp June morning, Amelia died giving birth to a healthy baby girl.”
Augusta feels that breath on her neck again. Her mother’s breath. She trembles involuntarily. Renata doesn’t notice. She’s staring at the pages in her lap.
“When Kep heard, he refused to believe it. He nearly killed the doctor who told him the news. Once he saw her for himself, he blamed the doctors, the nurses, the priest, the whole town. But in the end, he could only find one person to truly blame. The baby. Kep wouldn’t touch her or name her. The nurses chose a name for the birth certificate. June for the month she was born. Little June Halladay was alone the moment she entered the world.”
Gus bites her lip. Wondering why life can be such a warm refuge for some, but for others, it’s nothing more than a cold, bottomless pit. Gus has been down there. She feels herself slowly digging her way out, the more she searches and finds pieces of the truth. Moves toward the light. The warm surface. But baby June never felt her mother’s warm breath on her neck. Likely never found her way out. At least, it’s doubtful she did. Augusta knows how June’s story ends.
Renata continues.
“Folks used to say Kep’s marriage only masked who he really was. Like a Band-Aid over a festering wound. With his beloved ripped away from him, the real Kep seeped out. He buried his wife, squared his shoulders, and began rebuilding his grandfather’s empire. Bought back the feed business. Bullied local merchants into cutting their prices. Intimidated competitors. The local farmers despised him. He held them hostage. Raising prices, monopolizing the market, cutting off their supply routes. By the early eighties, Kep Halladay owned a piece of every business in Elgin, from the local paper to the motor inn. He had politicians in his back pocket. Transport officials and law enforcement on his payroll. It was rumored he even had a police officer or two on the inside doing his bidding. Then he bought himself a political seat.
“At the age of fifty, Kep Halladay was appointed to the Senate by Prime Minister Brian Mulroney. Halladay House was revived and a new heyday began. An endless stream of bigwigs from Chicago and Washington, Ottawa and Toronto came to Halladay House. Local teenagers were hired to work the parties, serving drinks and food. Boys mostly. The gossip bubbled around town that some of the boys were earning extra money for favors. Party favors, they called them. These rumors were fueled by a bruise seen on a boy’s neck or a heated argument overheard between a father and son in the drugstore. The high school crowd that used to gather on summer evenings outside the bowling alley, laughing and jostling, now huddled together and whispered in hushed tones. Most weekends, Kep’s parties went well into the night and the town braced for the worst and hoped for the best come Sunday morning. No one dared shut them down or stand up to Kep Halladay.
“And no one gave much thought to June Halladay.”
20
June
RENATA FLIPS ANOTHER PAGE IN HER SCRAPBOOK. GUS NOTICES the old woman’s eyes twinkle as if, in the turning of the page, time is flickering before her like an old movie. Unraveling itself. Not only illuminating what happened back then, but also showing her who she once was. A young female reporter assigned to write a story that is now a newspaper clipping glued forever in place. A copy of that same article is taped to Shannon’s wall. Gus recognizes it. The one about June Halladay’s accident.
Gus feels compelled to inch closer to Renata and her scrapbook. She leans in, barely breathing. Drawn toward the faded ink and yellowing newsprint just as Renata is. Gus can almost smell the wood pulp. Renata’s mouth quivers. Gus waits. Ears perked. Knowing Renata is about to reveal so much more about the girl who was June Halladay.
“She lived up in Halladay House. Alone with her father. The housekeeper said she made the child supper and a school lunch before leaving each day. The groundskeeper who mowed the front lawns said June played out back in the derelict greenhouse. He was told not to clean out the greenhouse or weed the rose garden or trim the hedges or tend to the mess of tangled shrubs behind the house. It was all left to rot.
“People worried that little June was neglected too.
“She walked herself to school from the age of five. Her teachers said she was a good artist. She drew pictures of a mother and child. A blue ocean and a field of daisies. Her teachers marveled at her bright spirit, her artistic talent, and her sweet bearing. Attributing it to her mother’s genes. Kep never attended school art shows or plays or end-of-year parties. Not one parent-teacher interview. Not one graduation. Not primary school. Not middle school. Not high school. June raised herself.
“She grew leggy and pretty with long yellow hair and deep blue eyes. She joined the cheerleading squad and had lots of friends. At fifteen she started seeing a local boy. Todd Hammond. He was sixteen and worked part-time as a stock boy at the grocery store. People saw them walking together down by the creek or along some lane next to a cornfield. Never holding hands for fear of it getting back to her father. They were just talking and walking.
“This went on all summer. Everyone knew except Kep. No one said a word to him. Then one evening, he was driving through town and saw them sharing a milkshake outside the drugstore. Todd ran off when Kep pulled up to the curb. The whole town heard June screaming as Kep dragged her by the hair into the car. A week later, Todd and his family packed up all their belongings, stuck a For Sale sign on their front lawn, and drove off in a U-Haul. Everyone knew they’d been run out of town by Kep’s men. A couple of tough guys he had on his payroll. They did his dirty work. Townsfolk said nothing. They were afraid. They knew he could turn on any one of them in the blink of an eye.
“Then June started to show. She was pregnant. That was it. Any friends she had turned their backs on her. The whole town did for fear of showing her a kindness and having the wrath of Kep come down on them and their kin.
“Little Gracie was born the spring of ’95. The town was shocked that Kep let her keep the baby. Some say he didn’t have a choice. June wouldn’t have it any other way. June loved that baby. She had no idea how to be a mother. And no one in town was brave enough to give her work or even help her take care of the baby, so she was stuck living with her father in Halladay House. Those girls she used to be friends with would cross to the other side of the street when she came along pushing her pram. Cowards, the whole bunch. No wonder she dipped into the sherry once in a while.
“June didn’t care about any of them. She had raised herself and she would raise her baby. Her little Gracie. A quirky, pale-skinned, dark-haired babe who looked nothing like her pretty mother. Or young Todd for that matter. Gracie was an odd duck from day one. She went from skinny toddler to gawky preschooler. June enrolled her in dance lessons, took her swimming at Little Lake, and ordered dresses for her from the Eaton’s catalog. Did her best, despite her drinking. Did her very best to ease her little daughter into a world Gr
acie seemed misshapen for.
“Every Sunday evening they walked through town. Once Gracie was old enough, she rode a pink bike alongside her mother. They would pass by the house where Todd once lived. It unnerved the folks who lived there. They’d heard the stories. Didn’t want the attention. Gracie was seven years old the last time those folks saw the pair of them pass by.
“That was the year June died. 2002.”
Renata brushes a tear from her cheek. Augusta is taken aback that the retired journalist is so choked up by her own story. But then Gus realizes she too has a lump in her throat. The old woman’s words are more than just stories. They are homages to real lives lived and lost. At least the words about Amelia and June and Gracie seem to be. They are about mothers and daughters. They are about a family of cursed women. Gus can’t help but think of her own mother. Of Rose too. Another family of women, not so much cursed, as splintered. Not a family at all anymore. Gus clears her throat, trying to swallow the lump away.
One of Renata’s crooked bony fingers rests lightly on the article she wrote about June’s accident.
“I didn’t write what I wanted to write. What I knew I should write. I wrote around the truth. I skirted it like a croc in a pond. I was a coward too. Just like the rest of them.”
Renata wipes her cheek with the small paper napkin from under her teacup.
“The truth will come back to bite you if you’re not careful.”
An exceptionally tall nurse stands at the far side of the lounge. She catches Augusta’s eye and taps her thin wrist. Time to wrap it up. The nurse folds her gangly arms. She reminds Gus of an ostrich. Long-necked and awkward. Her mouth forms a thin stern line under her nose. Her bug eyes are unwavering. She looks like a tough cookie despite the pastel floral uniform. Gus gives her a nod, pretending she’s on board.
“Renata. What didn’t you write?”
Renata stares at her. Blank. She looks at the napkin, turning it in her hands as if she’s never seen one before. Gus knew the roll Renata had been on was too good to last. She tries to help her remember. She points to the clipping about June’s accident that sits in Renata’s lap.
“You said you wrote around the truth. What truth, Renata?”
Renata shakes her head and furrows her brow. Frustration closing in.
“I don’t know anyone named Renata.”
The nurse is on the move. Shit.
“Everything okay here, Mrs. Corrigan?” the nurse says in a loud patronizing voice as if Renata is stone deaf.
“Stop bothering me, June.” The old woman snaps at the nurse and tries to shoo her away. The nurse is having none of it. She stands her ground and whispers to Augusta as if they’re coconspirators.
“Like the wind. She just drifts off and there’s no telling when she’ll come back.”
Gus sits forward in her chair. Not ready to give up.
“But she was fine a minute ago. More than fine. I’m sure we’re good.”
The nurse smirks at the naïve young woman.
“And I’m sure you’ve had a lovely time chatting about your little school project, but Renata needs to rest now. She rarely gets visitors just popping by.”
The nurse grabs the scrapbook, tucks it under her arm, then takes hold of Renata’s elbow, and makes her stand. Gus resents the implication and the way she’s manhandling poor Renata.
“But I didn’t just pop by.”
“Time to go to your room for a little nap, alrighty, Mrs. Corrigan?”
The nurse tries to maneuver Renata away, but the old woman pulls from her grasp and grabs hold of Augusta’s wrist. She leans over and whispers to her.
“Please don’t go.”
The nurse peels Renata’s hand from Augusta’s wrist.
“That’s quite enough, Mrs. Corrigan. You see, miss, you’ve upset her.”
Gus is livid at this ostrich of a woman. “You’re the one who’s upsetting her by grabbing her arm.”
Renata leans closer to Gus. “Don’t go back there.”
The nurse glares at Augusta. “Do I need to call security?”
Gus is really beginning to hate Nurse Ostrich.
“Don’t go, Shannon.”
Augusta flinches. An orderly comes to help the nurse and all Gus can do is watch them lead Renata away. She rises and calls out before Renata disappears, “I’ll come back tomorrow.”
The nurse shoots her a look that says, Not bloody likely. Gus makes her way to the front door, glancing down the hall. She sees the nurse leading Renata slowly into her room.
Outside the retirement home, Gus inhales, welcoming the fresh air into her lungs. The smell of urine and old skin lingers on her clothes. An elderly resident sits hunched in a wheelchair. Strands of wispy white hair float about her face. She gives Augusta a scrawny-fingered salute. Then she mutters through smacking gums, “If you’ve seen my Bucky, you tell him I’ve made roast beef and Yorkshire pudding with brown gravy. Just like he likes it. You tell him.”
Augusta gives the woman a thumbs-up. She heads across the parking lot toward Rose’s Buick, going over her encounter with Renata. How sharp and fluid the woman’s mind could be one moment, then suddenly and without warning betray her the next.
She recalls what Renata said to her midway through their meeting.
Doing some detective work. I remember you. Was it Kep you asked about?
At the time, Gus had brushed off Renata’s use of the word detective. Thinking it was just a figure of speech because they’d been talking about her investigating the story of Elgin. Of the Halladays. Of Kep. But when Renata called her Shannon, Gus knew it wasn’t a figure of speech at all. It was a tiny sliver of a memory slipping through a crack in an old woman’s fragile mind. Poking out for Gus to see. Her mother had also sought out Renata. When she too would have been looking into the town of Elgin and into Kep Halladay’s past.
Shannon was there with them today.
Renata knew it.
Augusta knows it too. Knows it deep in her bones.
She felt it in the lump in her throat and in the goose bumps on her arms.
Gus is following in her mother’s footsteps.
21
Alice
AUGUSTA BARELY SLEEPS THAT NIGHT. RENATA’S STORIES spin round and round her brain. Stories of the Halladays. Of Elgin. The woman’s a living encyclopedia of the town. It makes sense that Shannon sought her out. The whole history of that town and one of its founding families is laid out in that scrapbook, but Gus believes much of that history isn’t written in ink. It’s etched on the dim walls of Renata’s delicate brain. Gus wants to shine a light in those dark places. Wants to hear it all. Every detail. She has to go back to see Renata. Fuck it if the Ostrich doesn’t like it.
At the break of day, Levi in the back seat, Augusta heads back to Smiths Falls. She doesn’t call ahead this time. Better to ask forgiveness in person than get shut down on the phone. Surely they won’t deny Renata a little visit after a full night’s rest.
Gus strides confidently into the lobby and approaches the front desk. Same receptionist from the day before. The girl is busy swiping the screen of her phone with one finger. Gus clears her throat.
“I’m here to see Renata Corrigan.”
The girl doesn’t look up.
“Not here.”
“Oh. Where is she?”
The girl tears her eyes from her screen and looks up.
“You related?”
Recognition dawns. They both know she isn’t. Nurse Ostrich steps out of the office behind the receptionist and gives Augusta the stink eye. Hands on her pointy hips, neck craned, she ignores Gus and instead talks to the receptionist like Gus can’t hear them.
“This is the one I was telling you about.”
The girl doesn’t give a shit. Fakes interest.
“She’s the reason poor Mrs. Corrigan is in the hospital.”
The girl glances at her phone, then gives Gus a look that says, Why am I part of this conversation?
&nbs
p; “It’s not looking good. No thanks to her.”
Nurse Ostrich could use some anger management training.
“What do you mean? She was fine yesterday.”
“I think you should go.”
The nurse snorts at Gus as her mind whirls in confusion. Did her visit upset Renata that much? Did Ostrich do something to Renata after she left?
“What hospital?”
The receptionist gives Gus a what the fuck look. The Ostrich has had enough.
“Please leave before you give another one of our residents a stroke.”
Augusta is taken aback. A stroke? Renata’s mind wandered but she wasn’t sick. Gus gets a woozy feeling in the pit of her stomach. Maybe she pushed her too hard. Could digging into old memories actually be harmful to a fragile mind like Renata’s? Gus reels. It’s all her fault. She covers her mouth as Renata’s words come to her.
The truth will come back to bite you if you’re not careful.
Nurse Ostrich gestures toward the door.
But Gus can’t bring herself to leave. Something has her frozen in her tracks.
Fear.
But not fear of what she might have done to Renata. And not fear of the purple-faced nurse glaring at her. It’s fear of letting her mother down. Shannon wouldn’t give up now. She’d push. Hard. Gus can hear her saying what she always said.
If you want something, little girl, you have to go after it with everything you’ve got. Life’s too short for eggshell walking and pussyfooting.
Gus steps forward, with her mother by her side. She shakes off the guilt over Renata and takes one last kick at the Ostrich. More than ever, Gus needs to get at the truth. And if Renata can’t help her find it, maybe that scrapbook of hers will point Gus in the right direction.
She smiles innocently.
“Do you think I could borrow her scrapbook? For my school project?”
Nurse Ostrich smiles.
“Why, of course. How about some of her jewelry too? Maybe a nice watch. How ’bout her TV? You go on and help yourself to whatever you want.”
