All Good Intentions

by Trudi Johnson

  In her bedroom, she pulled back the sheets and bedspread vigorously. Kevin’s words about Kurt were playing over and over in her mind. She propped up two pillows, got into bed, and leaned back. Her interest in reading had waned. She stared at the photos and then out the window at the street lights, but nothing in her line of vision seemed to register.

  As she rubbed her eyes, she thought back to their evenings together, to the beginning of what seemed to be a warmer relationship than she could have imagined only two short months ago. Her right hand ran up and down the edge of the blanket. She focused on one spot in front of her and squeezed her lips, trying to moisturize the dryness away. She sipped the milk, grimaced, and returned the glass to the night table. My doctor must have shares in a dairy farm, because there could be no other reason to encourage patients to drink milk. She rested her hand on the light switch but changed her mind. Not wanting to lie in darkness, she turned on her left side, pulled the sheets around her neck, and searched for comfort that didn’t come.

  After a few minutes, she sat up and reached for the phone. The call was answered on the first ring.

  “Hello?”

  “Hello, it’s Jeanne. Have I awakened you?”

  “No, not at all,” Hannah answered softly, sensing immediately the anguish on the other end of the line. She searched for a way to bring comfort, as it was Hannah’s best talent. “I’m still tidying the supper dishes. Mind you, I’m taking a long while to do it.” She laughed. “We had some people in, and the dishes piled up. Honestly, I’m not a fan of washing dishes. There’s times I’d rather throw them in the landwash.” She paused as she realized that she was prattling on. “How are you?”

  “I’m all right, I suppose. It’s been a difficult week.”

  “Oh? Is everyone all right? Anyone sick?”

  Jeanne smiled at Hannah’s priority. No one was sick, and that meant nothing could be wrong. What a wonderful approach to living. If only I could be like that.

  “It’s a long story. Do you have time?”

  “Of course,” Hannah answered. “I’m just pouring a glass of juice and having three ginger biscuits before I go to bed. Carrie’s at a church meeting. They always serve lunch, and she must stay for that.” Hannah laughed a little as she sat comfortably in the horizontal rocker by the window. “Go ahead. Start at the beginning.”

  Jeanne slowly related the events of the past few days, culminating in her conversation that evening with Kevin. Hannah only interrupted to acknowledge that she understood. She waited until Jeanne had finished. She knew by the sound of her shallow breathing that Jeanne was forcing the emotion to stay inside.

  “Kevin’s knowledge of your father, Jeanne, is based only on the memories of his own father. You knew him so much better. You had him in your life for over fifty years. You knew what he was capable of.”

  “I know that Father was a businessman who struggled to be successful in some very difficult times. I’m unsure of everything else. I remember Kurt telling me about the stories he had heard. But I guess I always believed that they were exaggerated stories.”

  “Because the man you knew could not be like that.”

  “I didn’t want him to be.”

  Hannah recalled Alva Green’s description of the Bolands. “Your idea of what happened makes sense, and eventually it will to Kevin. Sadly, you might never be able to prove it one way or the other.” Hannah paused. “But there’s more, isn’t there?”

  “Yes. Kevin told me he has feelings for me. Strong feelings.”

  “And do you feel the same way?” Hannah asked the question, already knowing the answer. She wanted Jeanne to hear her own voice saying it.

  “I don’t know. Yes, I think so. It doesn’t matter. He went on to say that any relationship we could have would never work because, according to him, I haven’t gotten over Kurt.”

  Alone in her kitchen, Hannah looked around as if to search for the right words to say. Finally, she spoke softly, words that Jeanne never expected to hear. “Jeanne, my dear, I loved Charles once. And then I loved Marshall. Sometimes it happens that way, and it all happens for a reason. You don’t always finish one before the other begins.”

  Jeanne fell back on the bed and closed her eyes. “I was with Kurt for more than twenty years. He was . . . he is . . . the only man I’ve ever loved.”

  “I understand,” Hannah replied. “But you shouldn’t let those feelings keep you from life. You deserve more than memories, Jeanne. We all do.”

  “I guess so,” Jeanne managed in a whisper.

  “As for the business about your father and Mr. Boland, as you said, you may never know, but don’t let it take away what you have left.”

  “All that’s left of Father is his reputation.”

  “No, you are left. His daughter. Charles would be pleased that you have led your own life.”

  Jeanne appreciated her words, and what she was about to say seemed clearer than ever. “I’ve made a decision about the house.”

  “You have?”

  “Yes. I’ve decided not to sell it. I’m going to keep it and have Joe renovate it into an inn. I’ll hire someone to manage it for me.” Her words were lined with conviction.

  “Jeanne, that’s wonderful.”

  “Thank you. You don’t think I’m crazy?”

  “No, not at all. I think you’re doing what’s best. Now, get a good night’s sleep,” Hannah directed. “My mother used to say, ‘the sunrise puts a new cast on everything.’”

  Jeanne sighed heavily. “I wish I had known my Grandmother Hettie. Thank you for listening to me.”

  “Of course. Jeanne, did you tell Kevin that you are not selling the house?”

  “Yes. Tonight.”

  “Then perhaps his words about you and Kurt came out of his disappointment.”

  Jeanne smiled. “That may be. Thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.”

  “Good night.”

  Jeanne eventually fell asleep, praying that indeed the sunrise would put a new cast on everything. At the same time, she was convinced that her relationship with Kevin Gillis had ended.

  She was wrong.

  CHAPTER 10

  June 1937, St. John’s

  Hannah’s hands were shaking as she buttoned her olive green Melton cloth coat. She quietly closed the door of her bedroom and walked down a flight of wooden stairs to the second floor. She paused for one last peek at her little girl in the nursery and was relieved to find her sleeping. How hard would it be to look into her eyes? Her throat stung from fighting back tears, and she gasped for air. The day she had dreaded for many weeks was here. If only she could make it to the dock and get on board the boat. No one would see her tears then. But first she had to say goodbye.

  Downstairs, Alva Green gave her a gentle hug and whispered, “safe journey.” Charles was nowhere to be seen. Hannah turned to lift her heavy bag near the door and saw Virginia standing in the hallway, her thin frame silhouetted by the sunshine streaming in the back window. She approached Hannah as she stood in the front doorway. “I don’t blame you for what you did,” she said, quite matter-of-factly. “It’s understandable. After all, my husband is a man of position. He’s highly respected in this community. I’m certain that you had not seen a man of his stature before in your young life, and I’m equally certain you will not do so again. So savour the memory, my dear. It’s likely the last affection you’ll ever get . . .” She added a final judgment, words forever etched in Hannah’s mind, and then turned swiftly away with a quick dismissive wave of the hand.

  Hannah closed the blue front door behind her. As she walked down the steps to the car, she summoned words of a familiar hymn to steel her nerves. Into Thy gracious hands I fall, and with the arms of faith embrace. O King of Glory, hear my call, O raise me, heal me, by Thy grace. She gave a brief smile and a nod to Lawrence
Green and got into the car after taking one backward glance at the house.

  Later that evening, on board the schooner bound for Falcon Cove and points north, Hannah bundled her belongings around her and hoped they would cut the chill. She focused on the steep rocks of the Narrows, the entrance to St. John’s harbour between the hills, then Freshwater Bay, until they disappeared from sight in the dusk. She repeated the words of the hymn over and over—From faith to faith, from grace to grace, so in Thy strength shall I go on; Till heaven and earth flee from Thy face, and glory end what grace begun—until, exhausted, sitting up, she slept.

  * * * * *

  August 1997, St. John’s

  “Doris, you and I deserve a vacation,” Kurt announced as she entered his office.

  “I won’t argue with you. That’s why I’m off for three weeks as of Friday. But before you go, Jeanne is here. She’d like a few minutes of your time.”

  “As I said, I deserve a vacation.” He sighed heavily and sat back, expecting the worst. “Ask her to come in.”

  Jeanne stepped around Doris as she entered the office and waited for the door to close behind her. She was surprised to see Kurt in casual clothes. Her scrutiny caught his attention. “Before you say anything, I’m supposed to be on vacation. I’m golfing this afternoon with Joe.”

  “If you’re supposed to be on vacation, why are you here?” she asked, as she sat in a leather armchair, amused that he would deign to justify his actions to her.

  “I have a new project that I’m looking into. It was a last-minute decision. I do plan to leave soon, though. Doris thinks my disposition needs repair, and that can only come from a round or two of golf. What can I do for you?”

  “I won’t keep you,” Jeanne said calmly, but her facial expression changed as she realized the enormity of her decision. Nervously, she continued. “I’m in need of financial advice, business advice.”

  Kurt appeared puzzled. “Don’t you have someone who normally advises you on your finances?”

  “Yes, I do, but this is a venture that is uncharted water for me. This is about the house. Father’s house.” She placed her purse and car keys on the round table in front of her. “I’ve made a decision this week, Kurt. I’ve decided to restore the house to the way it was and keep the ownership myself. Please, I prefer that you don’t laugh at me.”

  “I don’t intend to.”

  She watched as he moved from his desk to the chair next to her.

  “I would like for it to be an inn, a very good one,” she explained, and swallowed hard. “I’m sorry, I didn’t anticipate that saying the words aloud would cause such a reaction in me.”

  “I understand,” he responded softly, and his words sent a flutter of warmth through her. “Could I get you something?”

  “No, thanks. I don’t want to keep you.”

  “So tell me, what brought you to this decision?”

  “Joe and Kevin said that it was a wonderful opportunity to turn it into a business. Emily was adamant about selling it, until she found out that Kevin was going to research its history. I was left not knowing what to do.” She paused and rubbed her hand over and over on the soft armrest. “Kurt, beyond all of the advice, I miss the voices in the house, the laughter, and the warm conversation. The place is deathly silent, and it hurts me to the core every time I go there. I can’t let it go, because it’s part of me.” She trembled at her own words.

  “No need to explain. I imagine I will feel the same way about Mother and Father’s house in Halifax when they’re gone. It was the house where I grew up. Jeanette says she doesn’t even like it when they go on vacation.” He rested his feet on the ottoman in front of him. “Do you plan to manage it as well?”

  “You don’t think I can.” She said it more as a fact than as a question.

  “I think you can do whatever you want,” he offered with conviction. Their eyes met in silent communication that had not occurred since their marriage.

  “Thank you,” she responded, believing he was sincere. “I will hire someone to do the day-to-day management, of course. I’m not one for getting people extra towels, as you know.”

  He remembered his ex-wife’s qualities all too well. He chuckled for a minute and turned back to her with a serious look. He rested his arm across the back of the chair. “Sounds like you have thought this through carefully. What do you need from me?”

  “Advice. I need a business plan. I need to know how to proceed. I’ve talked briefly to my bank manager, but I still have several questions. Obviously, I’ve never done anything like this before.”

  “I can help you with that.” He leaned forward, picked up a notepad and pen, and quickly scribbled two names and their phone numbers. “Here you go, either one of these will help you. Most importantly, they won’t take advantage of you. Tell them I recommended them, if you wish.”

  “Thank you. This is much appreciated.” She folded the paper and placed it inside her purse. “I also need the best renovating architect available.”

  “You need your son.”

  She nodded in acknowledgement. “Exactly,” she said. “The problem is, Joe’s not happy with me right now. Perhaps I should rephrase that. He’s more upset with me than usual.”

  “Oh?”

  “Don’t pretend you don’t know, Kurt. You two tell each other everything. I gave him advice about his new home. I even suggested that Brittany help with the interior decorating. That didn’t go over well. Then I told Lindsay Martel to invite Caroline to the engagement party. He didn’t like that either.”

  “You expected he would?” he asked with amusement.

  “Go ahead, laugh. I know you find my relationship with Joe entertaining.”

  “I’m not laughing. It’s just that you always manage to do something to aggravate him. I’ll talk to him, Jeanne. It sounds like his kind of project. But he’s really busy now these days. Among other projects, he has Kevin’s place to design out in Planter’s Bight, as you know, and he’s involved in that big international housing project for northern climates. But if you want the best, as you say, he’s the one. Whatever I can do to help, just ask.”

  “You mean that?” She sat up and adjusted her powder blue sweater.

  “Of course.”

  She was surprised by his generous offer. “Thank you, sincerely.” She stood to leave. “Do you happen to know if Joe’s in his office this morning?”

  Kurt laughed. He was not surprised by her anxious desire to get started, but he’d not witnessed such enthusiasm in a very long time. “He is. Until we meet for golf after lunch.”

  “Good. I’ll see if I can hire myself an architect.”

  “Ask him for the family rate,” he said with a glint in his eyes that Jeanne recognized and still enjoyed. He stood next to her at the door but hesitated to open it. “Jeanne, there’s one more thing before you go.”

  “Of course.”

  “Joe and Sandi’s house. They were successful in their offer on the Maddox house despite the fact that someone else put in a better offer after they did. Do you have any idea who made that better offer?”

  “I thought at first it might have been Kevin, but he denied it, and I have no reason to disbelieve him. I have someone else in mind. I’ll get back to you when I confirm it.”

  Kurt nodded. “In the meantime, someone else made certain that Joe and Sandi got that house, the one person in my life, besides Doris, who has the final word.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “Your mother?”

  “Exactly.” He opened the door. “Good luck with your investment, Jeanne. I hope it’s money well spent.”

  She smiled broadly. “Technically speaking, Kurt, given that wonderful divorce settlement you gave me, it’s your money that’s being well spent.”

  She closed the door behind her.

  *
* * * *

  Shortly after ten o’clock, Joe looked up from his office desk and was surprised to see his mother standing in the doorway.

  “Good morning!” he said, wondering how she got past his assistant.

  “Diana was on the phone, and I didn’t want to interrupt her. She looked terribly busy. So I just waved and came on in. Do you have a few minutes?”

  Joe sighed. “A few. Please, have a seat. If you can, make it quick.”

  “You’re not too busy to be heading to the golf course.”

  Joe looked surprised.

  She smiled coyly. “It’s okay. I’m not checking your schedule behind your back. I just came from Kurt’s office. He said he persuaded you to have a round of golf this afternoon.”

  “Yeah, he needs a vacation, he says, so I might as well encourage it.”

  “Joe, I need an architect. A good one. Someone who’s an expert at renovating.”

  “You want me to recommend someone?”

  Jeanne ignored his question. “I have decided to keep the house and renovate it as an inn.”

  “As Kevin planned.”

  “The more I thought about it, the more I realized that, by keeping it, I could decide what happens to it. So, do you have time?”

  Joe took a deep breath. “Yes, I guess so,” he said, remembering Quentin’s quip about billable hours. He had to find a way to block Quentin’s mantras from swirling through his brain. “Mother, if I may ask, are you absolutely sure you know what you’re doing? After all, running an inn is very hard work.”