by Linda Abbott
Dr. Kennedy drizzled fat over his brewis. “Good old Newfoundland food was the one thing I missed the most when I was away to study medicine.”
“And Irish Newfoundland music,” Mike said. “Always makes you want to get up and do a jig.”
Dr. Kennedy smiled, reflecting on long-ago memories. “The minute I opened my mouth, everyone assumed I came from Ireland. I allowed the ladies to believe that.” He grinned. “For a while, anyway.”
“Might as well have been Ireland,” Mike said. “No one had ever heard of Newfoundland, let alone knew where it was located.”
Alice added extra fried onions to her fish and brewis. “Fred Russell, the bakery man, visited Toronto once and told me it was a huge place,” she said, a worried look in her eyes. “It must’ve taken some getting used to.”
“It did,” Mike said. “Once you get busy with school and books, your world revolves around the university.” He forked a chunk of brewis into his mouth. “The main differences I noticed were the number of people and the buildings. Ten, fifteen storeys high, all made of concrete. Houses as well were made of brick, none of the bright colours like the wooden homes here.”
“Must look awful dull,” Alice said.
Tom slopped vinegar all over his supper. “Sounds like a whole other world,” he said.
“It grows on you with enough time,” Mike said.
“And,” Dr. Kennedy added, “the summers are longer and warmer. The winters much colder. Except this winter, of course.”
Alice tried not to stare at Henry and draw attention to him. He sat quietly, eating like it was a practised exercise that required no focus.
“Gathering fairy dust, Alice ?” Tom touched her arm. “What are you thinking about ?”
She started. “Sorry, love. What did you say ?”
Tom chuckled. “You left us for a while there.”
Dr. Kennedy exchanged a look with Alice. “I’d say your wife was thinking about Henry’s imminent departure. All mothers fret about a child leaving home.”
Alice sneaked another glance at her son. She was sure he hadn’t heard a word. “You’re absolutely right, Doctor,” she said. “Then again, you’ve gone through the mixed emotions of a child leaving home three times.”
“Don’t worry,” Mike said. “I’ll take good care of my nephew. He can stay with me as long as he likes.”
Alice drank a mouthful of water. “That’s very good of you, Mike. Will your wife mind having a young man underfoot ?”
“Not in the least. Our two sons are married. Lilah will be in her glory having someone other than me to fuss over.”
Tom turned to Henry. “What do you think of that ?”
“Uncle Mike, I appreciate your generous offer.” He shoved food around his plate. “I can’t take you up on it.”
“Why not ?” Tom said.
Henry took a deep breath. “I’ve changed my mind about school.”
Dr. Kennedy stuck a finger in his ear as if to clear away the wax. “Did I hear you correctly ?”
Tom’s face flushed a deep red. “What’s all this about, Henry ?”
Alice looked at her husband with sad eyes. “Please don’t be angry with him.”
“Love, I’m confused, not angry. Henry, I’ve been hard on you about school. That’s behind us now. Medical school is a grand idea.”
Mike wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Why the sudden change of heart ?” he said quietly.
Henry looked from one to the other. “I can’t say.” He pushed back his chair and rushed out of the kitchen. The front door opened and closed.
Tom’s mouth hung open. “What in the hell was that about ? He was over the moon about medical school and being a doctor.”
Alice stared around the table. “I know Mary’s been on his mind since the fire.”
“It’s most likely a case of nerves,” Mike said. “Moving to a new country is a daunting step for someone who’s never been away from home before.”
“I don’t think that’s it,” Tom said. The creases in his forehead deepened. “I know my son. Something really serious has happened. Something so awful he can’t tell us.”
Dr. Kennedy rubbed his chin. “Henry hasn’t said a word to me about any kind of problem.”
Alice glanced toward Dot’s empty chair. “He would’ve confided in Mom and she’d have the problem sorted out by now.”
“I wish I’d had the chance to meet her,” Mike said.
Tom sighed. “A fine woman who took no nonsense,” he said. “Henry must miss her.”
Alice plastered a smile on her face. “Homemade apple pie for dessert,” she said. “Hope you all saved room for it.”
“Lovely,” Dr. Kennedy said. “I’ll have an extra-large slice.” He turned to Mike.
“Don’t let on to Mrs. Simms. The woman would have my head if I stuff myself with sweets.”
Forced laughter around the table soon died.
Alice cut the pie and everyone watched the steam rise from the delicious, steaming dessert.
Chapter 18
MARY YAWNED AND TURNED ONTO her side. She winced as her broken shoulder made contact with the mattress. Pain shot across her collarbone and down her arm. She turned onto her back and looked at the alarm clock. For most of the night, she had been awake thinking about Henry’s visit. He was racked with guilt and willing to do anything to appease his conscience. She leaned on her good elbow trying to sit up. Another jab of pain. The room spun, nausea assaulted her without warning. “Not again,” she groaned, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. Her stomach gurgled, the contents threatening to gush up to her throat. She swallowed and the sensation passed.
Her feet touched the canvas floor. So cold. Sweat broke out on her neck, her arms, the back of her knees. She bolted upright, whipped open the bedroom door, and ran for the bathroom. The uneven floor creaked like scared mice as she fled down the hall.
Dougie burst out of his room. “Mary, what’s the matter ?”
She dashed past him.
“Mom,” Dougie shouted. “Mary’s sick.” He flew after his sister.
She dropped to her knees in front of the toilet and vomited. Her tongue stung. Specks of bile spattered on her nightgown and clung to her hair. The sour smell saturated the air. Dougie gagged.
Mary fell back on her heels. “Dougie,” she said, dragging a hand over her mouth. “Wet a face cloth for me.”
Flora appeared behind her son. “Dougie, get dressed. You’ll be late for your paper route.”
“Oh, God,” Mary wailed, and reached for the toilet. Tears flowed down her cheeks as her stomach emptied.
Flora soaked a cloth in icy cold water and pressed it to her daughter’s forehead.
Dougie lingered in the hall. “What’s the matter with her ?” he said, eyes large.
Mary’s head hung over the toilet. Her chest hurt. Her broken shoulder smarted like it had been rammed into a brick wall. She lowered the lid and flushed the toilet.
Flora turned to her son. “I promise your sister will be all right.”
Dougie stared at Mary’s grey complexion. “But she’s throwing up some lot lately.”
Flora twirled Dougie around and, with hands on his shoulders, directed him to his bedroom. She opened the heavy, beige curtains. The sky was overcast and very little light came in.
“Mom. Please tell me the truth. Is Mary going to get better, or...” With a big toe, he poked at a spot on the floor only he saw. “Is she going to die ?”
Flora took his face in her hands. “Throwing up is normal for what ails her. It’ll pass and she’ll be back to her old self.”
Dougie held his mother’s gaze, his expression serious, older. “Mom, would you tell me if she wasn’t going to be all right ?”
“I promise to never keep anything that important from you.” Flora tousled his hair. “Now get dressed,” she said, closing the door on the way out.
Mary wobbled down the hall. She supported herself with a hand on the wall. The flo
or rose up. A few more steps to go, she thought, and put a foot forward. Her knees gave way.
“You poor dear,” Flora said, catching her daughter. “Let’s get you back to your room in one piece.”
“Mom,” Mary moaned. “Will this sickness ever end ?”
“Sadly, you take after me in this instance.”
Mary sat on the edge of the bed and nursed her shoulder. “Poor Dougie,” she said. “He’s some worried about me.”
Flora sat next to her daughter. “He is,” she said. “Furthermore, it’s not fair to him.”
“Mom,” she sobbed. “I can’t take you being mad at me.”
“I’m not mad. I’m concerned about you and about the effect this situation is having on you and your brother.”
“Mom, I didn’t get pregnant on purpose.”
“For heaven’s sake, love, that’s not what I meant. How long do you intend to hide it from Dougie ? From everyone ?”
“I don’t know. I can’t seem to sort anything out.”
“Love, time is running out. Soon the decision to reveal your big secret will be out of your control.” Flora wiped away a few traces of vomit from her daughter’s face with the tail of her apron and helped her lie down. “Henry has the right to know where he stands.” She sighed and left the room.
When Mary heard her mother go down the stairs, she buried her head under the covers and wept.
Dougie slurped tea from a saucer as he looked across the table at his mother. He laid the tea down and dug into the porridge. “Mom, why does Mary get mad every time I bring up Henry ?”
“Mary gets testy very easily since the fire. She’s been through a hard time.” Flora cut a slice of toast into four pieces. “It’s going to take time for her to come ’round.”
Dougie ran his spoon through the thick, milky oatmeal, and then let it go against the side of the bowl with a slight clink. “Henry never comes by anymore.” He dropped his chin into his hand. “Mary never talks about him, not even when Mrs. Gibbs is here.”
“Like I explained before, she — ”
“Mom,” Dougie said, cutting her off. “I’m almost thirteen, not a youngster anymore. I know you and Mary are keeping something real important from me.” He frowned. “It must involve Henry.”
Flora opened her mouth to deny the statement.
“I deserve the truth,” Dougie said. He closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.
Flora stared at the boy who was nearly as tall as a man. “Your father used to do that,” she murmured, and took a deep breath. “You’re right, Dougie. Mary does have a...” she paused to consider the right word. “... situation she doesn’t want you to know about yet. I can promise you that your sister’s health isn’t at risk.”
“Then why is she throwing up all the time ?”
“That will pass.”
“Johnnie Smith told me last year his sister used to throw up all the time for a couple of months.” Dougie lifted the spoon in and out of the porridge.
“What are you getting at ?” Flora said.
“Mom, I might be young, but I’m not stupid.” He pushed the bowl of oatmeal away. “I have to go deliver the papers now. I’ll finish breakfast later.” He stopped at the kitchen door. “You and Mary can trust me.” Without giving his mother a chance to respond, he hurried down the hall.
Mary shuffled into the kitchen, poured tea, and joined her mother. Flora watched her add sugar and milk, then stir and taste the hot liquid.
“Mom, you’re awfully quiet.”
“Dougie is worried to death about you. He’s questioned all the excuses we’re giving for you being sick.”
Mary almost dropped her cup. “Please, Mom. I can’t bear for him to know.”
“I’ll make a batch of pancakes,” Flora said, and went to the cupboard. She took down a mixing bowl. “Your little brother isn’t so little anymore.”
Mary trembled all over. “What does that mean ?”
“I think Dougie has figured out that you’re pregnant and that Henry is the father.”
“Oh, God, Mom. He might tell Henry’s parents. We must warn him to keep quiet.”
“Love, your brother is becoming a fine young man and more sensible than either of us give him credit for. He’s concerned about you.” Flora measured out flour and butter. “He’s ready to hear the truth.”
Mary moved on the chair like she had spent hours sitting on the hard surface. “I’ll wait till after school,” she said. “It’ll give me time to think of the best way to explain everything to him.”
“He won’t understand why you’re pushing Henry away. He’s like a big brother to Dougie.”
“Don’t you think I know that ?”
Flora cracked two eggs into the bowl. One contained a blood spot. “Not to worry, love. Dougie will keep your secret if that’s truly what you want.” She added water and whipped the mixture with a fork. The blood spot blended in with the creamy liquid. “Henry’s parents will have to be told.”
“Our money will run out soon,” Mary said. “I’ll look for work as soon as my shoulder is better.”
“There’s no rush. I have a job.”
“What ? When did that happen ?”
“I start work next week at Bowring’s in the dress department.”
“Oh, God, Mom. It’s all my fault you’re forced out to work.”
Flora spooned the pancake mixture into the frying pan. “No such thing,” she said. “I worked outside the home before I married and rather liked it.”
The smell of bacon fat made Mary’s stomach churn. She covered her mouth with a hand towel.
“Besides,” Flora went on, “I’m looking forward to meeting new people and earning a wage again.” She smiled. “There’s not enough here to keep me busy all day.”
Mary reached for her cup. The tea had gone cold. “You’re saying that so I won’t feel bad.”
Flora flipped over a pancake. “Indeed I’m not. I can’t wait.”
“Did you tell Dougie ?”
“Yesterday morning. He thinks it’s a grand idea.”
“He never said a word to me.”
“Which proves he can keep a secret when asked.”
“Mom, I can’t believe how relaxed you are about my mess-up.”
Flora slid the cooked pancakes onto a plate and dunked the frying pan into cold water. It hissed. The noise slowly faded. “I learned years ago to take life in stride. Worry never helps.” She placed the pancakes in front of Mary. “We coped when your father took off. We’ll do it again. Now eat. I don’t want you getting sick on me.”
Mary cut off a tiny portion of pancake, not bothering to smother it in molasses.
Flora untied her apron and sat down. “What are you going to do about the baby ?”
Mary shrugged her shoulders, biting down on her bottom lip.
“Time is getting on, love.”
Mary didn’t speak.
Flora cleared her throat and forced sternness into her voice. “An unwed mother is not permitted to give birth in any of the hospitals. You’ll have to go to the home operated by the Salvation Army. They’ll talk to you about giving the baby up for adoption.” She paused. “Have you thought about that ?”
Mary’s hand shook as she raised it to her forehead. “I’ve done nothing else since I found out.”
“I hate to pester you, love, but it’s high time to think long and hard about the future.”
TOM AND MIKE SAT IN matching armchairs Dot had given the family as a Christmas gift five years earlier. Each man had a drink of screech. The flames in the fireplace, the only source of light in the room, licked at the grate, spitting and hissing like tomcats in a fight.
Tom rested his glass on his knee with one hand. “I don’t know what to make of Henry lately. Becoming a doctor was all he could talk about since he was a small boy.”
Mike swallowed a mouthful of his drink. “I spoke to him this morning. All he would say was that something more important has come his way.”
“If it’s so damned important, why’s he acting like the world’s about to crumble into ashes ?” Tom scratched his nose. “He hasn’t been the same since the fire.”
“Henry has a few more months before school starts. If he changes his mind, call and let me know.”
Tom stared at his glass, swishing the contents around and around. A little splashed out onto his hand. He didn’t appear to notice. “Life was so much simpler when Henry was a youngster.” A flicker of sadness glazed over his eyes. “And when Dot was here.”
Mike smiled. “Frankie told me she stood for no nonsense.”
Tom simply sighed.
“I heard an interesting thing,” Mike said to cut through the sombre mood. “The date for the referendum vote on Confederation is set for the third of June. The campaign will really pick up speed now.”
Tom’s head shot up. “What rot ! We’re doing fine on our own.”
“I’m not sure about that,” Mike said.
“You’re out of touch with Newfoundland. You’ve been in a different country.”
“Not for long !”
“Don’t start that again.”
Mike grinned. “By the time the vote rolls around, you’ll be one of Smallwood’s strongest supporters.”
Tom gulped down the last of his drink. “Dr. Kennedy is late,” he said. “I hope he wasn’t called out on an emergency. The pease pudding will be dryer than parchment paper if it’s kept too long.”
Mike stood, stretched his legs, and walked to the fireplace. “Maybe Frankie will find a way to get to the bottom of Henry’s problem.” He leaned against the mantel and looked out the window. “I’ve never seen so many icicles in all my life. You can hardly see the street.”
“Henry started work as an accountant at Newfoundland Margarine today,” Tom said as if he hadn’t heard his brother. “It’s good honest work, but it’s not what Henry wants for the rest of his life. I wish he’d tell us what’s gnawing at him.”
“Speaking of Henry,” Mike said, indicating the window with a nod of his head, “here he comes.”
HENRY WALKED UP THE STREET, hands in his pockets, his head held high. He went to the Norris house and knocked.
