The Daughters' Story

by Cyr, Murielle;

  Nadine reached for her hand, a little cool to the touch, but as silky as she remembered.

  Do you know who I am, Grandma?

  Can you hear my breathing?

  It was a game they used to play, blindfolded, when they’d try to locate each other by listening to their breathing. Grandma always claimed she heard the drumming of Nadine’s heart from across the room.

  “Grandma. It’s your Nadine. Listen to my heart beat. It’s thumping so hard my ribs hurt. Listen, Grandma. It’s your Nadine come back to you.”

  She leaned her head on the bed and closed her eyes. There would be no response. The only thing left to do was to stay by her side while her soul rose and fell with the laments of the melodies. This was her final journey back to the mystical green land of her ancestors she had talked so much about. “I’m right here, Grandma. You’re not alone. Don’t be scared.”

  Nadine woke up not long after with a stiffness in the back of her neck. The small room was still, illuminated by a ray of sunshine. She felt a hand brush her hair and her head shot up. Grandma gazed down at her, a soft glimmer in her eyes. Nadine’s heart skipped a beat and she straightened in her chair. But before she had a chance to say anything, Grandma had closed her eyes again.

  A nurse rolled her cart into the room, her assistant close behind. “Please wait in the hallway while we take care of Mrs. Pritchart. This won’t take long.”

  Nadine got to her feet and went downstairs to the lounge in search of a coffee machine. A nursing assistant serving the afternoon snacks told her they had no vending machines and offered her tea from the kitchen. Nadine thanked her but declined, knowing the tea served to the residents would be weak and tepid. She climbed back upstairs and came face-to-face with the nurse and her assistant coming out of Grandma’s room. They both stopped in their tracks when they saw her and glanced at each other.

  The nurse stared at Nadine a moment before speaking. “The doctor is with Mrs. Pritchart.”

  Nadine’s heart skipped a beat. “Is something wrong?”

  “The doctor will answer any questions you might have.” The nurse gave her a quick nod and continued down the hall, her assistant at her heels.

  Nadine bolted into the room. The doctor, completing a form on his clipboard, paused to look at her. “Are you a family member?”

  She rushed to the bedside. “She’s my grandmother. What’s going on?”

  The doctor slid his pen into the top pocket of his lab coat. “Pulmonary complications. I’m sorry for your loss, Madame.” He turned and walked out the door to continue his rounds.

  Nadine swallowed the burning lump in her throat and leaned down to press her lips on her forehead. Grandma had left her world behind, but not without first saying farewell, pausing in her journey to offer a moment of comfort, as she always had. She had detected Nadine’s anguish, heard the drumbeat of her heart. The loving touch of Grandma’s fingers through her hair would stay with her forever.

  She stepped towards the dresser, pressed the play button on the tape machine and said goodbye to the caregivers waiting in the hallway. Grandma had shed her cloud of fear and loneliness to embark on her new journey. She wouldn’t have wanted anyone feeling sad. She took a deep breath and resolved to focus on her goals for the day and not to allow the pain of Grandma’s departure to overwhelm her. First, she had to call Aunt Jan and then, most pressing of all, have a serious talk with Lisette. Gregorian chants accompanied her all the way to the elevators.

  Nadine came home to find Lisette curled up in a blanket on the sofa listening to CKLM radio. They were rebroadcasting their program on Barbara Cross. The kidnapped British diplomat’s wife was reading aloud a letter she had written him. Her voice posh-sounding, but wavering and faint at times.

  —It is now… more than a week since I heard from you. You are constantly in my thoughts… and you must know how I long for your safe return—

  Nadine pulled off her shoes and switched on the overhead lights. “A bit dark in here. Have you had supper?”

  Lisette pulled the blanket over her head. “That’s too bright. It hurts my eyes.”

  Nadine switched the ceiling lights back off and turned on the softer table lamp instead. Were the overhead lights that strong, or was it a sign of vision problems? It was time to have a serious talk.

  —It has been a great consolation to me to have been able to read your letters and to have some idea… of what your thoughts have been at this time of separation—

  “At least the woman gets letters from him.” Lisette sat up as Nadine walked past her. “I don’t even know if Serge is hiding out… or if he’s locked up. They make new arrests every day. Prisoners aren’t allowed to see a lawyer, never mind call anybody. And I can’t risk asking if they’ve picked him up. They’ll bring me in for questioning for associating with a terrorist.”

  Nadine considered telling her the bad news about Grandma Stella but decided to wait for her to calm down. The girl was right about avoiding any contact with him. The cops were desperate to find the kidnappers and they’d jump on any chance to get information leading to their capture. She had to stay away from him no matter how worried she was about him. Under war measures, aiding a member of the FLQ in any way got you up to five years in jail.

  She sat down in the armchair across from her daughter “It’s only been a short while, Lisette. Worrying about it won’t bring him back any faster.”

  Lisette put her elbows on her knees and rested her head in her hands. “My child will grow up without a father… without a real family.”

  Nadine let out a soft sigh and looked away. The girl was so obsessed about forming a proper family—something Nadine hadn’t been able to give her. No magical words or formulas could ease her anguish. Maybe if she had been stronger when Lisette was born and found a way to resist, to hold on to her baby. The child might’ve grown up knowing that family is all in the heart, that it didn’t always follow an established pattern. If Serge wasn’t around to parent the child, some other capable person could. Family was formed with love and loyalty, not by legal status. But Lisette wasn’t ready to hear any of this.

  —Your letters have moved me to hope that we will soon be together again. I do hope the FLQ will… continue to allow you to write to me—

  Lisette straightened. “That’s it.” Her face lit up. “He’ll write me. The cops can’t trace his letters.”

  —To those holding my husband, I express the hope that… as a victim of circumstances… he will be well treated. I beg you to free him without any more delay—

  Lisette reached out and switched the radio off. “She can’t be serious. They can’t release him—not before their demands are met.”

  “Give her a break, Lisette. The woman sounds like she’s scared her husband will end up like Laporte. You’d feel the same way if your Serge had been the one kidnapped. She doesn’t know what’s happening to him just like you don’t know what’s happening with Serge. As far as she knows, he might be dead. The FLQ have sent a few communiqués since Laporte’s death but the cops won’t allow the radio stations to broadcast them anymore.”

  Lisette shot her a dark look. “Thanks for your encouragement. The possibility of Serge’s death will sure help me sleep better tonight.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you. I was just comparing your situation with the woman’s. You’re both living the same kind of frustration.”

  Lisette turned her back to stroke Peaches dozing on top of the sofa beside her.

  Nadine rubbed the back of her neck and leaned forward in her chair. “I went to see Grandma Stella earlier… I’ve got some bad news to—”

  “Can it wait till the morning?” Lisette scratched Peaches behind the ears, triggering loud purring. “I’ve had enough dark thoughts for today.”

  “There’s never a good time for bad news. It will be just as hard to take tomorrow as it will be now.
” She swallowed hard, pushing down the ball of heat in her throat. “She’d been sick for a while, and… this afternoon… while I was visiting her… she left us.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Lisette sat up straight, letting go of Peaches, who sprang off the couch. “She was a nice lady. I wanted to go back to visit her but they locked me out.”

  Nadine pressed a fist against her chest. “Pretty sad thing to say, but she was my best friend—my only friend—when I was growing up. I did her wrong neglecting her all these years, so any pain I feel now is well deserved.” She paused to wipe the back of her hand over her eyes. “I’ll have to call Aunt Jan later to find out about the funeral arrangements.” She stood up slowly. “But life goes on no matter how much pain you’re in. I’ll make coffee and fix us a light supper. We have other things to talk about.”

  Lisette gave her a puzzled look, and got up to fold her blanket.

  Nadine opened the fridge and pulled out the loaf of bread, leftover chicken and the jar of mayonnaise.

  Lisette sat at the kitchen table and watched her prepare the sandwiches. “I tried to find Serge this morning. I needed to know he was OK.”

  Nadine stopped her knife mid-way through a sandwich. “So, did you?”

  “I knew you wouldn’t approve, but what the heck. It’s my life.” She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I took the bus to Sylvie and Pit’s place but nobody answered the bell. No curtains in the windows—I guess they’ve moved. So I stopped by Serge’s taxi stand.” She straightened and brushed her fingers through her hair. “He must be wondering how I’m doing after all this time. I just wanted to let him know everything was OK. His boss—a real asshole—told me he wasn’t working there anymore, but if I left a note he’d pass it on to someone who knew him. The way the creep looked at me—like I was some pregnant bimbo trying to pin Serge down—I knew he wasn’t going to tell me whether the cops picked him up or not.”

  Nadine placed the sandwiches and mugs on the table. “Let’s just finish our meal. I’m sure Serge is laying low till the fuss has died down. According to the papers, the Civil Rights Union has set up a separate committee to check on the treatment of the detainees. Serge is only a sympathizer. If they have him, they can’t keep him forever. Focus on you and the baby. That and working on your term papers will keep your mind off other things.”

  Lisette picked up her sandwich and put it down again without biting into it. “There’s something I should make clear. A sympathizer is someone like me. I’ve participated in a few protests and gone to rallies and meetings. But Serge is a bit more involved than that.”

  “How implicated?” Nadine slid her plate closer, ready to start eating. “Didn’t you say he was a fundraiser for the FLQ?”

  “Where do you think he gets the damn funds?” She held Nadine’s gaze. “Banks, taverns, grocery stores, drugstores, nightclubs. Any place that keeps a pile of cash on hand.”

  Nadine’s eyes widened and her stomach turned over. “Armed robbery? Is that what you’re saying?” She leaned back against the back of her chair. It was a silly question, but she needed to get her mind around this.

  “Don’t look so shocked.” She grimaced, pushing her sandwich to the side. “It’s not as if he keeps any of the money. It all goes to help the cell with explosives and whatever else the group needs to carry out their activities. Pit holds the gun and Serge fills the knapsack. But the gun’s only for show. They’ve never hurt anyone.” She clutched a handful of her hair and twisted it around her fingers. “Now you know why I’m going out of my mind about this and why Serge can’t contact me right now. Though I wish he’d call me to let me know he’s OK. I guess he can’t risk it.”

  “He’s got that right.” The thought of her daughter handcuffed and locked behind bars left a sour taste in Nadine’s mouth. “Look at you. Your hands are trembling and you’re all sweaty. Promise me you won’t try to see him again.”

  Lisette remained silent. Nadine saw the lone tear flow down her cheek and she controlled her urge to put her arms around her. Having her flinch when she touched her was hard to take. Lisette just wasn’t ready to accept her mother’s love and sympathy. She had been deprived too long to recognize the healing aspect of this balm.

  Not yet.

  She had no idea what to do to ease her daughter’s heart. All Lisette wanted was to give her child a loving family. She had chosen a man with a different dream. She slid Lisette’s plate back in front of her. “You have to eat. You might not be hungry but your child is.” The percolator stopped brewing and she got up from her chair. “I’ll get the coffee.”

  Nadine switched off the stove and walked back with the percolator. Lisette had started on her sandwich. She stared at her daughter’s unkempt hair and the dark rings under her eyes. The last weeks of pregnancy had taken their toll. Nadine reached for her sandwich and they ate in silence. Her daughter was smart enough, but how was it she wasn’t able to see she was stuck with a man who lived only for his cause? He’d never be able to be there for her when she needed him.

  Nadine wasn’t about to risk rocking the boat by speaking her mind. All she wanted was to share a meal and have a quiet conversation with her daughter. Nothing else mattered right now.

  Lisette glanced up from her plate. “I know you don’t think much of Serge. But don’t worry. He’s the most honest, dedicated man I know. Right now, I have to be strong and accept coming second place in his life. He’s got to give his all to what he believes in. He’s got this big poster in his room with a quote from Louis Riel that sums it all up: ‘I have nothing but my heart and I gave it away long ago to my country.’ I know when this FLQ thing has fizzled out—it has to, it’s too small to continue much longer—he’ll be back.” She placed her hand on her belly. “This child and I, we’ll be his country—his family.”

  Nadine went to touch her hand, but stopped before Lisette noticed. “Go drink your coffee and relax in front of the TV. I’ll call Aunt Jan from the office. I guess Uncle Denis must’ve broken the news about Grandma to her by now.” She paused, a pained look in her eyes. “This isn’t going to be an easy call. Aunt Jan and Grandma were pretty close.”

  Lisette pushed her chair back. “Didn’t you say you had something else you wanted to talk about?”

  Nadine hesitated a moment. “That can wait. You have enough on your plate right now. We’ll set aside some time soon when things are calmer.”

  Chapter 25

  The sun’s weak morning rays filtered through Nadine’s bedroom drapes. She woke gasping from the same suffocating dream that had plagued her from early childhood.

  She’s lying flat on her back in the yard, wet blades of grass plastered to the side of her neck. Her nightie, cold and sticky, clings to her skin. Someone, heavy and motionless—Maman?—is on top of her, pinning her down, blocking her breathing. She tries to tug her arms out from under the body but each movement brings a fresh spurt of blood. Where is it coming from? Blood trickles across her face, making her eyes sting. A thick salty taste in her mouth. Spasms of pain surge from her neck down to her legs. She stretches her mouth wide to scream—no sound.

  She threw off her blanket and slipped out of her sweat-soaked nightshirt. Damp strands of hair clung to her neck and face. That same dream—no less disturbing than the last time—continued to revisit her. If dreams were supposed to carry messages, what did this one intend to tell her? To remind her of her mother’s murder? If so, it’s job was done. Encrypted in her heart and mind, the horror of that day occupied a permanent slot in her psyche.

  He must’ve grabbed the longest blade in the kitchen drawer, though if Claire was as delicate as Aunt Jan claimed, a pen knife would’ve done her just as much harm. She imagined him taking two steps at a time, stumbling down the stairs after her. His fast, deep breaths. The sharp smell of whiskey in the air as he got ready to pounce. Her heart drumming through her chest. The muscles of her legs straining as sh
e sprinted, clutching a heavy, crying five-year- old against her chest. Her eyes fixed on the wooden gate leading to the back alley and to freedom. And then falling, plunging face down into the wet night grass. The first thrust of his knife slicing into her mother’s lower back.

  Nadine stared down at the narrow horizontal scar on her thigh—a gruesome childhood keepsake. What was he thinking? Did he mean to stab me too, like those big toothpicks they use to skewer a club sandwich together? The blade pierced right through my mother’s organs and into my upper thigh, missing by a hair the big artery that leads to my heart. He would’ve noticed the twitch in Claire’s eye or a slight movement in one of her fingers. He yanked the knife out—dripping with a blend of my mother’s blood with mine—and thrust it right back in again. Higher, nearer to her heart. Deeper, until the tip of the blade sliced through her body to the soft tissue beneath my collar bone.

  She got out of bed and brushed a shaky hand through her hair. Why did she dwell on something she had buried so long ago? A dark cloud of pain that had anchored deep in her consciousness. She had learned to block these thoughts during her waking hours but had no control of them while she slept. If dreams were nature’s way of guiding people, she would need more clues to understand. She had lost contact with the child who had lived through that ordeal, yet the hurt lingered.

  She was five years old when it happened. She could still hear her mother’s sharp breathing as she tore down the back steps and across the lawn, clasping her daughter in her arms. Had she not been hampered with a child, she might have escaped her husband’s brutal attack. The evening window shoppers had been a mere block away. Was that what the dream was about? To point out that her mother might still be alive today if it weren’t for her? But Claire hadn’t hesitated, her heart pounding into her daughter’s chest, determined to reach the safety of the downtown crowd. It never came to mind to leave her daughter behind, even at the risk of her own life.