Remedy House

by Ruth Hay

  Hilary Dempster was one of these. Leonard had seen her husband Mark through his last illness and advised their son Desmond on a few health issues on his infrequent trips home from Toronto. Hilary was seldom in his surgery which he put down to a very active and satisfying professional life in education.

  He was, therefore, surprised to see her recently and the reason for her appointment had lingered in his mind far more than normally.

  She came right to the matter in hand as soon as he entered the examining room.

  “I don’t want to waste your time, Leonard. Do you have any tests for Alzheimer disease?”

  He was immediately shocked and had difficulty concealing it from her. Hilary Dempster was one of the most sensible and intelligent women he knew. Such a request was highly unlikely coming from her.

  He looked with his physician’s eye at her appearance and attitude to see if there were any clues to explain her question. Of course, it was possible she was asking on behalf of another person.

  He could see nothing untoward in her appearance. She was smartly dressed as usual, and her greying hair was neatly combed in a flattering style. Her hands, clutching a black leather purse on her knees, were as elegant and well-tended as ever, with clean, unpolished nails. He always found hands and nails to be prime indicators of women’s health. The only thing to note about her was an impatient tapping of her right foot on the tile floor.

  “Why on earth do you want to know about Alzheimer disease, Hilary?”

  “Leonard, we have known each other for many years. I have come to you because I am worried about my mental state and I need to know if I am in trouble.”

  His analytical mind had taken over at that point and he asked for a list of her ‘symptoms’ with little expectation she was a candidate for the disabling disease.

  All she could supply were the forgetfulness and occasional confusion that are the inevitable companions to aging. He tried to reassure her with tales of his own inability to find his car keys and the time he put the milk back in a cupboard instead of the fridge, but she cut him off abruptly.

  “I have always been able to rely on a fully-functioning brain, Leonard. I am not stupid, nor am I subject to hallucinations. When I state that I have observed considerable changes in the functioning of my mental powers, you must believe me. It could be the beginning of dementia. I am prepared to concede that much. Were it not for my current responsibilities, I would not be overly concerned, but I have taken on the welfare of five, no six, other women and I cannot jeopardize their futures.”

  Now it became clear that Hilary Dempster was thinking mainly of others. He vaguely remembered Barb saying something about a special housing co-op that Mrs. Dempster was involved in. She was likely overburdened and expecting too much of herself. This was a common problem with conscientious females of a certain age. He offered to give her a written test she could do at home and an experimental blood test with the proviso that no results were guaranteed. She accepted these eagerly. Then he moved on to the more probable cause of her distress.

  “When was the last time you took a break, Hilary? The responsibility for others can be overwhelming at times. I am going to suggest something unusual to you but hear me out. I believe you need to get away from your responsibilities and find a cause to which you can devote a few hours a week.”

  She was offended.

  “You mean volunteering? The last thing I need is more work!”

  “I imagine you would not respond positively if I told you to take a holiday. Am I right?”

  She knew he was right.

  “Doing something different will allow you to refocus your energy and restore your confidence in your mental powers, which, I may say, Hilary, are as formidable as they have always been. I will take a blood sample if you insist.

  Please make an appointment with Barb for one month from now and seriously consider what I advised.

  Now, get yourself out of my office and buy an ice cream on the way home.”

  Hilary did as ordered, but she was stunned by Leonard’s conclusion. He did not think she was an obvious Alzheimer victim. He recommended getting out into the community in some way; a thought she had never before entertained but would now start to consider. She also remembered his comment about a holiday and it came to her mind that, if Vilma wished to offer her Jamaican beach cottages again, she might just take the opportunity. From what Mavis had said, it was the perfect get-away spot.

  Feeling much relieved, she stopped by an ice cream stand and sat eating a huge cornet watching the crowd go by and thinking it was an absolute age since she had the leisure to sit and do nothing.

  Perhaps Leonard Harper’s assessment was more accurate than she would ever have suspected.

  Chapter 5

  “Hey, J.J. It’s Jolene! I’ve had a brilliant idea.”

  “Oh, do tell.”

  “You know that major assignment for Grade 10 Computer studies?”

  “Yes. Don’t tell me you’ve done it already?”

  “No. But I have an idea for your project.”

  “Why do I think this is going to be bad news for me?”

  “I can’t imagine why. This is a guaranteed A+ and you can get started on it before school. You know we are supposed to arrive with an idea planned out in detail for the first class?”

  “All right, I suppose. What’s involved?”

  “It’s simple. The project is to find out about your father by using online sources.”

  “Now, wait just one minute, Jo! You know I said that’s impossible. I can’t even start. I haven’t a single bit of information to help me. ”

  “I had an idea about that. Just ask your aunt what she remembers. All you need is a name or two and we can go from there. I am thinking you could start a blog about the process. There must be heaps of kids out there who are looking for family for one reason or another. It’s a major identity thing with families and don’t forget about the health issue. What if your father has some health problem that you could prevent for yourself, if you only knew about it?”

  Faith was momentarily struck dumb. She knew Jolene was a major brain at school but this amount of involvement in a friend’s life was something foreign in her experience. No one of her own age had ever reached out to help Faith Jeffries. Had she not know the girl for some time now she would naturally assume there was something to be gained for Jolene in this wild scheme. Was it even possible Jo just wanted to be a good friend?”

  “I don’t know what to say, Jo. This is huge. You make some great points. I hope you’ve done as much work on your own assignment and not wasted too much time on this.”

  “It’s up to you to decide if I’ve wasted time. As far as I’m concerned, I think you should do it. If there’s nothing else of interest in grade ten, at least you would have some answers to questions about your identity.”

  “You mean if I decide to do this.”

  “Yeah, sure! It’s your call J.J.”

  “I’ll think about it, that’s all I can say right now.”

  “Good enough. Are you keeping the new clothes you bought downtown?”

  “I might return the skirt and I’m not certain about the boots.”

  “Well, make up your mind soon. We need to coordinate outfits for the first day back in September.”

  “Okay. And, Jo…………. Thanks.”

  “See you soon, kid! Don’t forget to let me know your decision. We need to get going on this.”

  Faith plopped down on her bed and pulled the cover over her. She felt chilled although it was a pleasant temperature in her room. The thought of delving into her past life brought up memories and regrets about her Mom; memories she had tried to bury deep. Mavis had given her the speech about the stages of grief and how they could not be avoided, but it seemed easier to submerge all that in her new life in London where every single thing was diametrically opposite to all she had known in her travels with her mother. Safer to let sleeping dogs lie.

  Safer not to dig to
o deep.

  And yet, Jolene brought up some important points.

  What if her father had already died from some dread disease that would pop up and ruin her life one day?

  What if her father was alive somewhere and wondering what had happened to his child?

  What if he never cared about her and never wanted to know and just refused any requests?

  That’s the most likely scenario! Didn’t Honor say he took off as soon as he knew my Mom was pregnant?

  He was a loser. Who wants a loser for a father? Better not to know him at all.

  She was beginning to feel satisfied with this conclusion until another set of thoughts popped up.

  What if he is married without children and I am the only one he will ever have?

  What if he is married with several children who are my step brothers and sisters?

  Brothers and sisters? Me?

  Stop this, Faith Joan Jeffries! They call it idle speculation. It’s a waste of time like I said before. Enough already!

  She grabbed up her earbuds and started a music app on her phone, turning the volume up as high as she could tolerate to blast the foolish thoughts out of her head.

  Honor Pace did not want to challenge her niece on the topic of housekeeping but the more she postponed the inevitable discussion, the more it got in the way of her work. Finally she connected by phone with Faith and asked her to come for a talk.

  “Uh, what’s the talk about? I am heading downtown to meet the kids from school. There’s a free rock concert in Victoria Park.”

  “That’s fine. Stop by when you get back and don’t be too late. If it’s after dark, call from the bus stop and one of us will pick you up.”

  Honor cringed when the words left her mouth. That sounded like typical Mom talk, something I have no right to. I can’t be over protective with Faith but how does an aunt behave? Are there online courses for this situation?

  She fully expected to be ignored. So, later in the evening when she was about to check upstairs to see if Faith had already returned home, she was not too surprised to get an angry phone call from her niece.

  “What’s going on here? Someone has been nosing around in my room.”

  “What makes you think that Faith? I’m sure no one at Harmony House would disrespect your privacy.”

  “Well, someone stepped on one of my expensive earbuds and broke it in two.”

  “Oh. Are you sure it wasn’t you?”

  “Yes, I’m sure.”

  “Why don’t I come up and see what can be done about this?”

  I shouldn’t have asked. I should just insist.

  Honor disconnected before Faith could tell her not to bother. She nipped up the steps to the porch and walked quickly around to the front door and through. Mavis always locked up last thing at night. Faith must have returned early from the concert. She knocked politely on the door and thought she heard an exasperated sigh from inside. She knocked again. This was no time to back down. With any luck Faith would not have had a chance to tidy up and the true situation would be obvious.

  “Who is it?”

  “It’s your Aunt Honor, of course. May I come in?”

  The door opened an inch or two and Faith’s face appeared. When she saw the determined look on her aunt’s face she opened up enough to let her slip inside.

  The room was worse than Mavis had described. Honor had a hard time keeping her mouth closed. Her instinct was to start in on the girl at once but she supressed that long enough to attend to the matter she had most recently been informed about.

  “Where’s this earbud thing?”

  Faith produced it in her outstretched hand. It was small, blue and broken.

  “Where did you find it?”

  “On the floor by my bed.”

  “Show me where. There’s so much stuff on the floor I can’t imagine why you did not break it yourself by accident.”

  “That’s not the only thing that says someone’s been here. My diary was on the bed and a page was turned. Someone‘s been reading my private thoughts and I don’t like it!”

  “Calm down Faith. I will replace the earbud. The draft from opening the door could have turned one page. Who in this house would want to read your diary?

  Look around you, my girl. There’s a more important issue here. I can see you need to spend time on cleaning up this mess. Your diary should be in a drawer with the earbuds and your clothes should be hung up in the closet. How long is it since you washed the sheets or the towels? Everyone here is responsible for their own room and the contents, you know.

  This was the guest suite before you arrived, Faith. You took ownership on the understanding the room could one day be returned to its original purpose. It would cost me, and you, a great deal of money to replace fixtures, furniture or carpeting and I would be very embarrassed to disappoint the other women here if those replacements became necessary.”

  Faith had never heard her aunt speak in this tone before. She sounded really upset. Faith looked around the room and into the washroom with new eyes and she could see it was a disaster. She always meant to spend time on a clean-up but days had turned into weeks this summer, and she had put it off one too many times. She had not intended to cause this kind of trouble. She knew how lucky she was to be in this fine home and not in some scuzzy foster place with five other kids around her.

  “I apologize, Aunt Honor. I am really sorry for the way this looks. I know it’s stupid of me.”

  There was a sincere sound in Faith’s voice and she was looking shamefaced as she cast her eyes around the suite remembering how smart and clean it looked when she first took it over.

  Honor was relieved and anxious not to delay one more day so she could report to Mavis and Hilary that all had been restored to its former pristine condition.

  “I’ll help,” she said. “You strip the bed and collect the towels. There’s a spare set of linens in the bottom drawer of the dressing table. I’ll do the bed and we’ll dust the surfaces with a damp face cloth and take all this washing to the elevator and down to the laundry area. No one’s around at this time of night. I’ll start the first load and you can finish tomorrow.”

  Faith simply nodded and fetched the clean linen. She grabbed the four smudged pillow cases and began to stuff them with the dirty clothes and towels strewn over the floor. She quickly saw clumps of her blonde hairs tangled beneath the towels and wiped the worst out of the sink and off the floor of the washroom before her aunt could see them. When she went to dispose of the hair, she found the garbage bin was already overflowing with tissues and discarded and broken items of make-up. She turned to the bottom of her closet and dragged out a plastic shopping bag in which to hide the debris. As she worked at top speed she wondered how she had allowed this to happen. The accumulation had been invisible to her for weeks, if not months. Was she trying to destroy the room she was given? Was this some kind of protest or was it the way she always lived before Harmony House?

  Certainly she never lived in a room this nice before. Most of the places they rented were dark, dingy basements with old shabby furniture. Often she and her Mom were sharing a room or a bed. They really did not have many clothes to scatter around so it was easy to keep things off the floor. Was the problem that she never before had stuff she could afford to be careless with? That seemed to be a ridiculous reason for this disaster.

  As she cleared the space, she cleared her mind. She did not feel this was her very own room in the first place. It was borrowed. Temporary. Like all the other rooms of her childhood it was not permanent.

  She suddenly realized she did not know how to take pride in a room. Her mother moved them along before there was a chance to do what Honor called ‘housework’. Jolene’s family room in the basement of her Westmount home where the group studied was like a palace every time she went there. That was how normal people behaved. They cleaned up after themselves. They cared about their surroundings.

  If she, Faith Joan Jeffries, was ever going to
have a normal life and escape her childhood traumas, she must take on this duty as part of the normalizing process.

  She got down on her hands and knees with one of the wet towels and washed the floor. Then she checked under the bed and found several lost items she had given up on. Her Aunt Honor was bustling around the room like a frantic bee but the results were evident already. She watched while her aunt folded up the colourful rugs and inspected the white carpet underneath. She seemed to be pleased with what she saw but her next move surprised Faith. She picked up one of the rugs and took it to the shower where she carefully shook it out so that all the debris landed on the shower floor. On her way to collect the second rug she noticed Faith’s look of amazement.

  “No, I don’t intend to wash the rugs in there. They will need a through vacuuming tomorrow. It’s an old trick of mine from apartment living. You can wash the worst of the dust and dirt down the shower drain if you are in a hurry, but I don’t recommend it for regular use.”

  There was something reassuring in seeing her aunt use a shortcut. Up until now, Faith had seen only the organized businesswoman side of Honor Pace and this new aunt was somehow more approachable. She decided to ask her about the ‘Finding Faith’s Father’ project, as Jolene had labelled it. She held no expectations of help in that sphere but at least she could report to Jo that she had tried.

  The secret trip to the basement was accomplished without incident and Honor introduced her niece to the washing machines and their accompanying liquid and powder cleaning products. During Faith’s first busy year at school, Mavis had taken on the task of doing the girl’s washing. She, and Honor, expected Faith to take over but had never checked to see if that was the case.

  I must keep a closer watch on my niece from now on. This has been a warning.

  “We’ll put the wet towels into hot water and a long wash with a little bleach to prevent mildew. I’ll keep an eye on them and pop them into the dryer but I want you to do the remainder of your clothing that needs care. I’ll advise you on temperatures etcetera. I guess your Mom did the trips to the laundromat for you.”