by Pat Bourke
“Not any more. The doctors said I can’t be a pilot. My lungs won’t be strong enough for the thin air.” Jack was gaunt since he’d come out of hospital. Mrs. Butters worried that he needed to build up his strength.
“That’s horrible,” Meredith said quietly. She knew it was hard to give up a dream. She hoped she wouldn’t have to give up becoming a teacher, but she didn’t see how she was to manage it.
“That’s tough all right,” Tommy said. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m not sure,” Jack said. “I met a lot of soldiers in the hospital. Some with bad wounds, some with bad lungs from the flu or mustard gas, others not right in the head. It made me think, seeing them all like that. Now that the war is over, some of them might be able to go back to the life they had before, but others won’t. The war changed everything for them.”
“And not just for the soldiers,” Meredith said, looking at Tommy, “but for their families, and everyone around them. Just like the Spanish Flu did.”
“I guess they’re going to need doctors when they all come home,” Jack went on, with a hint of his old smile, “since I can’t be Billy Bishop now, or even the Red Baron.”
Meredith remembered the conversation they’d had on the back step before his birthday party. He’d sounded so certain about his future then. Now all the money in the world couldn’t buy him what he wanted, no matter how badly he wanted it.
Nothing could bring Tommy’s family back, either. And the Spanish Flu had killed Parker.
But Jack and Tommy were alive, with a future in front of them. It was up to them—up to all of them—to make the most of it.
“You’d be a good doctor,” Meredith said to Jack, and she meant it. She vowed that someday she’d be a good teacher, too.
Chapter 31
“There she is!” Meredith leapt to her feet and waved as the train pulled into the station at Port Stuart. When the train stopped, she jolted against the seat in front and nearly lost her balance. “See, Bernie? The woman in the gray hat with the little girl beside her. Mama! Ellen! Here I am!”
Mama and Ellen couldn’t hear her, of course, and now the clouds of steam that curled over the snow-covered platform hid them from view. Meredith tucked her poetry book into the pocket of her dress and shrugged into her coat. She felt as if fireworks were about to go off inside her any second.
“Do you think they’ll like me?” Bernie asked from the seat beside her.
In her eagerness to see her family, Meredith had forgotten that Bernie might be shy. She took Bernie’s hand. “Mama’s going to love you, and Ellen will, too.”
Bernie looked to her brother who was watching them from across the aisle.
“Put your coat on, Bernie,” Tommy said. “I’ve got our bag.” He reached for Meredith’s battered suitcase, too.
Meredith was glad all over again she was wearing her new coat of dove-gray wool with the rabbit fur on the collar. Glad, too, for the new hat and gloves from Mrs. Butters. She felt a million times more grown up than the girl who’d left Port Stuart three months ago.
“I can’t wait for them to meet you,” Meredith said, leading the way down the aisle. She’d been overjoyed when Mama suggested that Tommy and Bernadette come for Christmas. It was just what they needed after such a sad time.
Meredith paused at the top of the steps that led to the platform. She wanted to stretch this moment out so she’d always remember Mama’s eager face searching for her among the passengers leaving the train.
But then she couldn’t wait one second longer. She ran down the steps, breathing in the scents of home: smoke from the engine, horses with their sleighs alongside the platform. Harness bells jingled a welcome as drivers loaded their sleighs with parcels and passengers.
“There she is!” Ellen cried. She raced along the platform, blue hat bobbing, and barreled into Meredith. “Merry, Merry, I’ve missed you so much.” Her tight hug made Meredith gasp, but she hugged Ellen back just as fiercely.
“That’s a new hat,” Meredith said, tweaking her sister’s freckled nose.
“It’s from Aunt Jane,” Ellen said. Mama and Ellen had escaped the Spanish Flu, but Mama hadn’t written about Aunt Jane until after the danger had passed. Her lively description of Aunt Jane’s grouchy recovery had made Meredith laugh out loud in her bedroom at Glenwaring.
“She said she might as well knit if she had to stay in bed. She made you a red one. Oh, no!” Ellen’s eyes grew round. “I wasn’t supposed to tell!”
And then there was only Mama’s smiling face and her arms flung wide. “My good girl,” Mama said, reaching over Ellen to gather Meredith close.
More than the familiar sounds and smells of Port Stuart, Mama’s scent of talcum and roses—the smell of hugs and goodnight kisses for as far back as Meredith could remember—told Meredith she was home at last. She hadn’t expected Mama’s tears, or her own.
“I can scarcely believe how grown-up you look,” Mama said, crying and laughing as she held Meredith at arms’ length. “I’m so proud of you!” She rummaged in her pocketbook for a handkerchief.
“You need to meet Tommy and Bernadette,” Meredith said, wiping her eyes before beckoning them over. Bernie hung back, suddenly shy, but Tommy nudged her forward.
Mama knelt down in front of Bernadette. “Hello, my dear. We’re very glad you’ve come to visit.”
Beside her, Ellen squirmed with impatience. “Tinks had kittens, five of them,” she announced. “Do you want to see?”
Bernie twisted around to look up at her brother.
“It’s all right,” Tommy said, patting her shoulder. “Go on.”
“You girls can run on ahead,” said Mama.
Ellen grabbed Bernie’s hand and pulled her along the boardwalk. Mrs. Butters had fussed over Bernie, and Forrest made up silly stories to make her laugh, but Meredith thought a dose of Ellen was just what Bernie needed to chase the shadows from her pale face.
“And here’s Tommy, of course,” Mama said, extending her hand. “I’m so sorry for your loss, my dear,” she said, her warm voice wrapping around him like a hug as they shook hands. “We’ve been so looking forward to your visit. It’s making Christmas extra special for us.”
“I don’t know how to thank you,” Tommy said, his voice catching. He had worked hard to be cheerful for Bernie’s sake, and he never complained, but Meredith knew he ached for his family. “Bernie hasn’t been able to talk of anything else for days.”
“There are no thanks needed,” Mama said, “but if you’ve a mind to, I could use your help at the store. It’s a busy time of year.”
“Anything!” Tommy said.
It was just like Mama to make Tommy feel needed. “Tell her your news,” Meredith suggested. She had her own news to share, but she was saving it for Christmas Day.
“I’m getting cold standing here,” Mama said. “We can walk and talk at the same time. Good news, I hope?”
“The best,” Tommy said, picking up the suitcases. They set off along the snow-covered sidewalk, Mama keeping pace with Tommy, Meredith trailing behind. She wanted to savor every little detail: a smart black hat sporting a spray of holly in the window of Miss Beadle’s millinery, the line of waiting men framed by the steamy barbershop window, the new lace curtains at the manse.
“A letter came yesterday,” Tommy said. “My brother Mick has turned up in England.” Mick’s letter had been read and re-read so often over the last twenty-four hours that Meredith was sure Tommy could recite it by heart.
“He’d been wounded and got separated from his unit,” Tommy explained. “Someone had looted his kit, so he had no papers when an English unit found him. They knew he was Canadian because of the uniform, but he was pretty sick from a head wound and couldn’t tell them anything.”
“Imagine stealing from a wounded man!” Mama
exclaimed.
“They shipped him to London, but they didn’t know who he was for certain until the fever left him,” Tommy said. “Knowing he’s coming home is the best Christmas present we could ever have.”
Meredith caught sight of a solider lugging his kit bag toward Port Stuart’s small hotel, an empty sleeve pinned to his shoulder. Endings weren’t always happy, but better a lost arm than a lost life. The war had changed some things forever, even here in Port Stuart.
Meredith’s toes were beginning to freeze and the tips of her fingers were nipped by the cold despite the smart new gloves. She quickened her pace, eager to reach home.
A brilliant red cardinal on a branch beside the boardwalk cocked its head at her as if to ask, “Any more news?”
How would she ever keep her secret until Christmas Day?
“Tommy should take her upstairs,” Mama whispered as she and Meredith sat with their tea at the kitchen table once the supper dishes were done. Bernadette was curled up with the five kittens in a tangle beside her, all of them fast asleep on the braided rug in front of the hearth. Firelight danced along the walls, and the red-and-white curtains at the kitchen window shut out the night sky. Tommy and Ellen were playing snakes-and-ladders at the other end of the table, whoops of glee alternating with moans of despair.
“She’s worn out, poor lamb, and no wonder.” Mama reached for the big brown teapot and filled her cup. “We’ll fatten her up while she’s here. Tommy, too. As a matter of fact,” she continued, eyeing Meredith, “I’m beginning to think they don’t believe in feeding young people in Toronto.”
“Mrs. Butters thought you’d say that,” Meredith said. “She told me to tell you that fattening me up will be her New Year’s resolution.”
“Mrs. Butters sounds like a sensible woman. I just hope they aren’t working you too hard.” Mama pushed a plate of shortbread across the table. “You’d better have another cookie before Ellen finishes them off.”
Meredith had been turning her news over and over in her mind since her conversation with Dr. Waterton last night. She’d wanted to tell Tommy today on the train, but Mama deserved to hear it first.
“Can I have one?” Ellen climbed into Mama’s lap and reached for the plate of cookies. “Tommy, too?”
“Of course,” Mama said as she wrapped her arms around Ellen. “Cookies are for eating.”
“Merry’s not eating hers.”
How Meredith had missed Ellen’s wicked little grin!
“She was wool-gathering on the train, too,” Tommy said, moving to the chair beside Meredith and reaching for a cookie.
“Were there sheep on the train?” Ellen frowned.
“It means not paying attention to what’s going on around you,” said Mama. “I’ve noticed it, too. I think it might be something to do with Christmas.”
Meredith made up her mind. “It was going to be a Christmas present, but I want to tell you my news now.”
“News isn’t a present!” Ellen exclaimed.
“Of course it is,” Tommy said, tugging on one of Ellen’s braids, “if it’s good news like the news about my brother.”
Ellen screwed up her face in reply.
“I think it’s good news, and I hope you’ll think so, too.” Meredith stole a glance at Tommy. “Last night there was a Christmas party in the kitchen at Glenwaring.”
“Mrs. Butters and Forrest and Bernie and me,” Tommy said, “and Meredith, of course.”
They’d been sitting around the kitchen table, talking and laughing, sharing the turkey dinner Meredith had helped prepare. Mrs. Butters had made a little speech in memory of Parker, her face rosy from the heat, and they’d all sat silent for a few moments.
Just that week, a letter from Parker’s mother in England had set the household buzzing. They’d learned that Parker had been sending money to England regularly to support a wife and daughter.
“Who’d have thought?” Forrest had said at the time. “Imagine Parker with a wife and daughter!”
Parker had guarded his privacy so strictly that Meredith wondered if he’d been afraid of something, and whether it was loneliness for his family that made him so difficult. She liked to think she’d have been nicer to Parker if she’d understood more about him, but that was something she’d never know now.
“God rest his soul,” Forrest had said at last, after Mrs. Butters’ speech last night. They’d all echoed him solemnly, and then Forrest had proposed an outrageous toast to Bernie that made everyone laugh.
“Merry!” Ellen bounced on her mother’s lap. “You’re wool-gathering again!”
“We all received presents from the Watertons,” Meredith said quickly. “You know about my coat, but there was a bicycle for Tommy and a doll for Bernie. And we had gifts for each other, too.”
“It was grand,” Tommy said, nodding.
Meredith had been on tenterhooks while Tommy unwrapped the woolen mittens Mrs. Butters had helped her knit for him. His pleased grin warmed her right through, but she’d been speechless when she opened his gift to her.
“I know you like to read,” Tommy had said as she lifted a slim book of poetry from its wrapping. As she turned it over, the gold letters on the cover caught the light: The Watchman and Other Poems, by Lucy Maud Montgomery. “I hope you like it,” he’d added quietly.
“It was perfect,” Meredith said now, her fingers caressing the leather cover of the book in her pocket. “Then, after the party,” she went on, “Dr. Waterton called me into the library.”
The doctor had looked so serious she thought he must have bad news, but Aunt Jane was supposed to be getting better. Had something happened to Mama? Or Ellen?
“I’ve been doing some digging, Miss Hollings,” the doctor had said from behind the big desk, “and I’ve discovered that you’re too young to be working at a job like this.”
Of all the unlikely things he could have said, that was the unlikeliest. Meredith had felt a chill despite the cozy fire in the hearth. How had he found out? No one in Toronto knew her real age.
“If we’d known you were only thirteen, we would never have agreed to hire you, as I told Mrs. Stinson yesterday.” Dr. Waterton looked at Meredith over the top of his glasses.
“I’m sorry,” Meredith whispered. He must have already asked Mrs. Stinson to find someone to take her place. She was going to be sent away just as that horrible woman had predicted.
“But if we hadn’t hired you,” the doctor continued, “then we wouldn’t be in your debt.”
Startled, Meredith had looked up to see Dr. Waterton smiling broadly. “This household came through the flu epidemic due, in large part, to you, Miss Hollings,” the doctor said. “You are a remarkable young woman.”
That was the second most unlikely thing he’d said. “Thank you, sir.”
“Thoroughly remarkable, as I told your mother when I wrote to tell her how much we are in your debt,” the doctor said. “She wrote back telling me that you left school to take this job, and she told me why. She also told me you’d planned to become a teacher.”
Meredith nodded, but there wasn’t any point thinking about something that was years and years away.
“I have asked Mrs. Stinson to engage someone so that Mrs. Butters will have help during the day—”
She was being let go after all! How would she ever tell Mama?
“—so you can finish school here in Toronto.”
“I—I don’t understand, sir.”
“It’s simple.” Maggie stood in the doorway, holding out a brand new copybook and pen tied with a bright red ribbon.
Meredith looked from Maggie to the doctor.
“You’ll continue to work here with Mrs. Butters in the morning and the evening,” Dr. Waterton said, “but starting in January you’ll be free to attend school during the day.�
�
“I can work? And go to school at the same time?” This was more than she could ever have hoped for.
“I don’t think that will be a problem for a remarkable young woman like you,” Dr. Waterton said.
“A copybook isn’t much of a Christmas present, in my opinion,” Maggie handed the slate to Meredith, “but I have a feeling it’s just what you wanted.”
During Meredith’s story, the fire had burned down to embers that cast a rosy light on Bernie and the kittens. Meredith nibbled at the shortbread cookie, savoring its buttery-sugary deliciousness.
“Such a nice man.” Mama sighed. “I never expected this. It’s the answer to my prayers.”
“I’d like to have Merry for my teacher,” Ellen said, yawning, “when she’s finished working in Toronto.”
“She might want to teach in Toronto, you know.” Tommy reached across the table and tweaked Ellen’s nose. “She might not want to come back here.”
“I’ll always come back here,” Meredith said. “I missed you so much, Mama, and you, Ellen,” she reached for their hands, “and I missed this house, the way it fits me exactly.”
“Maybe one day Toronto might fit you, too?” Tommy asked quietly.
Meredith remembered the grinning boy from the shoeshine stand who’d rescued her stockings. “Maybe,” Meredith said. “One day.” She couldn’t help grinning herself.
Historical Note on Yesterday’s Dead
In the late summer of 1918, the 500,000 citizens of Toronto, Ontario, were weary from four long years of war. Many young servicemen and women had died overseas. Everyone hoped that the peace talks in Europe would end the war at last.
Few people in Toronto suspected that they would soon be fighting a fearsome enemy at home. Newspapers had begun to report on a new illness that struck healthy young adults suddenly and killed rapidly.
