“I always wanted a daughter,” he yells in her ear. He’s holding her tight, dancing with her to the fiddle. The room is hot and swirling.
She’s starting to feel nauseated from the whiskey and Yvon’s tight grip on her. She’s noticed lately the way he stares at her while she’s performing the most banal tasks—hanging up sheets, squeezing lemons, chasing after chickens. Until now, she’s taken his attention for paternal fondness, nothing more. But something about the way he’s pressing up against her now makes her want to escape.
When the song ends, she slips away and goes upstairs to her room. She flops down on the bed, holding on to the mattress, willing herself not to throw up. She yanks the old quilt up over her face, hoping the weight of it and its coolness might be able to keep the liquor inside her. She prays for morning, for the nausea to subside, to feel like herself again.
Sometime later—possibly minutes, possibly hours—she hears creaking in the hallway outside her room. The door opens. She attempts to sit up, but her body doesn’t cooperate. She lies there, paralyzed, wondering who’s in the room with her. “Is it time to start le train?” she mutters.
A man’s laughter. Yvon. “No, Maggie,” he says. “It’s two o’clock in the morning.”
She groans. When he lies down beside her, she stares at him in confusion. She’s so drunk she can barely move. He begins to murmur things in her ear: So beautiful. Can’t stop thinking about you. Can’t control myself anymore. Want you. She’s lucid enough to know that what he’s saying is wrong. Her body tenses. She wants to cry for help, but nothing comes out of her mouth. She tries to roll away, but his leg across her body is so heavy. Her stomach lurches.
Has she led him on? He’s her uncle. She’s always adored him. Did that give him the wrong impression?
His breath is whiskey and cigarettes. She remembers that afternoon with Jean-François at Selby Lake. The revulsion, the smell of licorice on his breath. She squirms while Yvon slurs in her ear. Dirty, inappropriate words that make her cringe. He’s half on top of her now, his leg pinning her down. His arm around her, holding the side of her face with his hand.
“Stop,” she begs. “Mon’onc, please!”
When his fingers begin to unbutton her dress, bile comes up in her throat. His hands move all over her, exploring parts of her body she thought only Gabriel would ever know. He presses his full weight down on her so she can’t even raise a leg to knee him in the groin. Her panties come off. She attempts to twist away, but it’s impossible. She hears herself crying and pleading with him, but Yvon doesn’t hear. Or he doesn’t care. Maybe the words aren’t coming out. She isn’t sure anymore.
He forces her to touch him, but she fights. She uses every ounce of strength she’s got left to resist. Frustrated, Yvon unbuckles his belt and shoves his pants down. He’s breathing hard, pushing himself inside her. She remembers making love to Gabriel just a few hours earlier. How pleasurable and sweet it was. The thought of Gabriel now is unbearable.
She makes herself focus on the usually comforting noises around her—the crickets, the pipes, the fading music from downstairs. On an ordinary night, all these can lull her to sleep with their soothing rhythm, but now she finds them deafening.
Finally, Yvon collapses beside her on his back, panting like the farm dogs after they’re done chasing the cows. “You’re not a virgin,” he remarks, staring up at the ceiling. His tone is a blend of surprise and disappointment. “Lucky boy on the motorcycle,” he says, lighting a cigarette. Maggie watches its orange tip crackle as it burns.
She rolls away from him. The room is spinning and her hand encircles the bedpost to keep it steady. She squeezes her legs together against the pain.
Chapter 10
Maggie’s parents come to visit for the first time at the end of August—not to see her, but to celebrate Yvon’s birthday. She’s been in Frelighsburg all summer, and although she speaks to her parents on the phone every Sunday night, she hasn’t seen them since the morning she was sent away. Their conversations are always strained. She quietly pleads with them to let her come home, but the answer is always the same. After Labour Day.
She knows they’re waiting for Gabriel to go back to Montreal. Her anger toward them has dulled over the months and given way to hopelessness. She doesn’t have the stamina for anger. When she hears their voices over the phone—first her mother, then her father—asking how she’s doing, she wants to tell them what’s happened to her. She wants them to know what Yvon has done. She blames them, and thinks they should bear the burden with her, but she says nothing. What if they don’t believe her? What if her father doesn’t come back for her?
Yvon came to her room one more time since that first night and tried to get into her bed. He was drunk and muttering about how he couldn’t keep away from her, but she stopped him cold with her voice. “Don’t come near me or I’ll tell my father,” she said. Sober, she was a much more valiant opponent.
She couldn’t see his face in the dark, but she guessed from his silence he was surprised. He’d underestimated her. He backed out of the room that night, warning her not to do anything stupid, and hasn’t come to her bed since.
Gabriel has been back only once since that awful night with Yvon. He knew something was wrong the moment he saw her in the Frelighsburg cemetery. She could barely look at him or touch him. She was quiet, distant. They did not make love. She had to lie and tell him it didn’t feel right, doing it in the cemetery.
“Is something wrong?” he finally asked.
“No,” she lied. “Just a stomachache.” The thought of any man touching her or kissing her now filled her with revulsion.
“You know what they say,” he said. “Out of sight, out of mind.”
“It’s not that,” she said. Still, she had no words to express how she felt—as if iron bars had gone up around her body—or how her emotions had begun to shut down like some internal power outage.
She had planned on asking him to take her to Montreal with him, but when she saw him face-to-face and looked into his eyes, she found she couldn’t go through with it. She knew he would ask her why she’d changed her mind and wanted to run off with him all of a sudden, and she couldn’t bear the thought of telling him.
“You sure everything is okay?” he asked again. “Is this about what we talked about last time? Because I pulled the knife?”
No matter how many times she reassured him, she could tell he didn’t believe her. He was perceptive enough to know that something was different. When they parted ways, it was tense. He looked troubled but was too proud to press her. She knew he would never want to come off desperate or groveling, and so he drove away stoically, unsure of what had passed between them. And she let him. The next time he offered to visit, she made some excuse about having too much to do on the farm. He hasn’t offered again.
Her parents’ Packard pulls up in front of the house and Maggie watches them approach with a feeling of detachment. She’s on the porch, sitting in the wicker rocker where she plucks chickens with Deda. She realizes as her sisters—Violet, Geri, and Nicole—rush toward her just how much she’s missed them, but she knows her parents are not here to rescue her. They’ll eat roast pork, make small talk, and drink whiskey in honor of Yvon, and then they’ll leave without her.
She greets Vi with a hug and they look each other over. It’s the longest they’ve ever been apart. “I saw Gabriel the other day,” Vi tells her.
Maggie wants to know more, but just then her parents join them.
“How have you been?” Maggie’s father asks.
“Fine.”
“You look tired,” Maman says, studying her face. She’s dressed up today and wearing lipstick. Her hair is done in waves, and she looks pretty, younger. Her perfume lingers on the porch as the screen door slaps shut behind her.
Maggie turns to Violet. “Where?” she asks. “Where did you see Gabriel?”
“In the field.”
“Did you talk to him?”
�
��I told him we were coming to visit you today.”
“What did he say?”
“He just said to say hello for him.”
“That’s it?”
Violet nods.
They go inside. Supper is already on the table. Maggie hasn’t been feeling well all day, but now the smell of pork makes her heave. She puts her hand over her mouth and suppresses a gag. “What’s wrong with you?” her mother asks, sounding more accusatory than concerned.
“I don’t feel well,” Maggie responds, slumping into one of the kitchen chairs. The longer she sits at the table, the more nauseated she feels. “Move the pork,” she says, and then pushes her chair away from the table. She rushes to the bathroom, but it’s too late. Halfway down the hall, she throws up all over the wall.
Maman comes running, with Deda waddling behind her. Deda takes one look at the mess and gags. Maman goes straight over to Maggie, grabs her by the shoulders, and stares into her eyes, searching for something. Maggie throws up again, this time all over her mother’s brown oxford shoes. Maman releases her and heads back to the kitchen, returning a few moments later with a pile of wet rags. “Go into the bathroom,” she says. “Kneel over the toilet and stay there.”
Maggie does as she’s told. When she’s finally empty inside and the nausea has passed, she lies down on the cold floor and stares up at the ceiling.
“Are you done?” Maman asks through the door.
“I think so.”
Her mother comes in and closes the door behind her.
“I must have a stomach flu,” Maggie says.
“Stomach flu,” Maman scoffs. “Have you been throwing up a lot?”
“Tonight was the first time. It was the smell of pork.”
Maman rubs her forehead, looking agitated. “Did you have sex with Gabriel?”
The question is like a punch in the gut. How does she know?
“Yes or no?” Maman says sternly.
Maggie doesn’t answer.
“My God,” Maman gasps. “You did, didn’t you?”
Maggie suddenly feels trapped.
“Mon Dieu,” Maman mutters, closing her eyes and running her hand through her hair. She starts pacing around the bathroom like a caged animal. “When was your last period?”
Maggie realizes she hasn’t had it since she’s been in Frelighsburg. “Not since I’ve been here,” she admits, panic starting to rise.
“Did you have sex with Gabriel?”
“Yes,” Maggie cries. “But I love him. We’re going to—”
Maman slaps Maggie across the face. “You’re pregnant!” she cries.
Maggie shakes her head. It can’t be. Gabriel pulled out.
“I knew it the minute I saw you today,” her mother says. “You’re pale and you have dark circles. You look the way I looked with all of you.”
“It’s just the flu,” Maggie argues weakly.
“You’ve missed your period, you idiot. And the smell of meat . . . That’s exactly what happens to me. Remember? When I was pregnant with Geri and Nicole? I couldn’t cook meat for the first four months with all of you.”
Maggie’s mouth is dry. There’s a thick lump in her throat. And then the horrifying realization. What if it’s Yvon’s? “It might not be Gabriel’s,” she manages.
“There were others?” Maman cries, her eyes darkening. “Tabarnac!”
“Not other boys,” Maggie clarifies, her voice trembling. She isn’t sure if she should tell on her uncle—what her mother will do to him, what he will do to Maggie—but she must protect Gabriel.
“Who then?” Maman’s voice is like ice.
Maggie buries her face in her hands.
“Who?”
“Mon’onc Yvon!”
Her mother doesn’t flinch. She just stands there, staring at Maggie. Maggie waits for her to react, but nothing comes.
“Maman?”
“He wouldn’t do such a thing,” her mother says at last.
“But it’s the truth,” Maggie says. “When I first got here.”
“If it’s true, you must have done something.”
“Done something?”
“To flirt or seduce him.”
“I didn’t!”
“You can’t mention a word about this to anyone,” Maman says. “Not to Deda, your father, your sisters.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“It would destroy Deda,” she says. “If it’s true.”
“It is true.”
Maman opens the bathroom door to leave.
“What are we going to do?” Maggie asks her.
“We’ll do what all families do in this situation,” she says, her back to Maggie. And then the door closes and she’s gone.
Afterwards, the grown-ups huddle around the kitchen table and talk in hushed whispers. Everyone else is ordered to stay outside until her mother emerges, stone-faced. She pulls Maggie aside. “You’ll stay in Frelighsburg with Deda and Yvon until the baby is born,” she says. “And if you see that boy again—even once—if I get wind you’ve met him in town or he’s come here—you will be thrown out of this house and into the street.”
“You’re going to make me stay here with Yvon?” Maggie cries.
“He’s taken good care of you.”
Maggie shakes her head, bewildered.
“We’ve got no other choice,” she says. “This is Quebec, Maggie.”
“What did Yvon say?” Maggie asks her. “Did you tell him it might be his?”
“Of course not,” she whispers, cupping Maggie’s chin. “Your father and Deda have no idea about that and it will never be spoken of, all right? Yvon is letting you stay here until you have the baby. We should be grateful.”
Maggie pulls away, freeing herself from her mother. “I’m not staying here with him,” she says. “I’ll go back to Dunham and have my baby with Gabriel.”
“And where will you live?” Maman asks her. “All cramped together in their little shack? All five of you in one bedroom? And how will he support you and a baby? Selling his corn? Will you live apart all winter while he’s working in the factory in Montreal? It’s a hard life for a couple of poor teenagers. Especially since you won’t be able to finish school. That’s what happened to me.”
This shuts Maggie up.
“You don’t know poverty like I do,” Maman warns her. “Think about all that, because you’ll be on your own if you keep this baby.”
“What does Daddy say?” Maggie asks, brushing away tears.
“He says what I say. He’s devastated. We can’t have an illegitimate baby ruining our reputation. Make your choice, Maggie. We’re going back to Dunham now.”
“What will happen to the baby if I stay here?”
“It will go to an orphanage,” she says. “Where all illegitimate babies go. No one except the people in this house will ever know the truth.”
“Why can’t Deda keep it?” Maggie asks. “She’s always wanted children.”
“We are not keeping this child.”
We, as though Maggie’s baby already belongs to them.
Maggie stays out on the porch, contemplating her choices. She still loves Gabriel. She could find her way back to Dunham, tell him she’s pregnant and hope he’ll marry her. She’d have to quit school and give up her dream of running her father’s store—
And that’s what stops her cold. The idea of abandoning the future she’s always envisioned for herself is one she can’t bear. Her life to this point has been organized around that very goal; it’s galvanized her when everything else has felt bleak. Even contemplating quitting that path leaves her feeling empty and useless.
Exile here at the farm suddenly seems less unbearable. Perhaps it’s the more noble choice to hide out and protect all their reputations, and then return to life as it once was. It wasn’t a fairy tale, it wasn’t without its hardships, but it was a good life just the same.
“Maggie?”
She turns around to find her father standing behind her. She did
n’t even hear him come outside.
“I’m sorry, Daddy—”
“We’ll fix this,” he says. “We’ll get you back on track, Maggie.”
She looks up at him, surprised by his gentle tone. “How?” she asks him.
He pulls her to him and holds her against his chest. She breathes in the smell of panatela on his shirt and lets herself cry while he strokes her hair. She doesn’t deserve such kindness from him. She’s disappointed him in every conceivable way, and yet here he is, consoling her.
“For starters,” her father says softly, “you are forbidden to see Gabriel Phénix again. You’ll stay here until this is over and you will have no contact with him. And if you do, if you choose to see him again, you will no longer be part of our lives. Understood, Maggie?”
Maggie pulls away and looks up at him, lips trembling.
“We won’t see you, we won’t speak to you. You will not be welcome in our home,” he underlines. “And you’re damn lucky I don’t kill him with my shotgun.”
Later, as her family prepares to leave, Maggie corners Vi outside and says, “You have to tell Gabriel something for me.”
“What?”
“Tell him it’s over. I won’t answer any more of his letters and I’m not coming back to him.” After their last encounter, she doubts he’ll be surprised.
“But why?” Violet’s eyes are wide. “When I got here, you were desperate to know what he said.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Maggie says. “Just tell him I’m not coming back.”
“Why aren’t you?” Violet asks, seeming to relish the drama.
“You’ll know the truth soon enough,” Maggie tells her. “Just tell Gabriel we’re through, will you?”
Violet nods obediently and runs off to the Packard. Maggie stands there and watches them drive away and then goes back inside.
Chapter 11
Sunday dinner. Her parents are here. Her uncle sharpens the carving knife. Maggie is about eight months pregnant. She’s been in exile for longer than that. She’s calculated she has to stay another two months. After she has the baby, she’ll need to lose the weight before she can go back to Dunham, back to work, back to her previous life.
The Home for Unwanted Girls Page 7
