Dreams and Promises: Love, Loss and Redemption in a Land of Infinite Promise

by Anna Markland

  She did. Which was ridiculous. They were both adults, not fifteen-year-olds out on their first date.

  No matter. With his free hand, Jamie removed his glasses and slipped them into a pocket. His eyes were so blue…Kate’s lids drifted closed, then flew open again. He was leaning closer, and her heart had gone into overdrive, and her sticky fingers clenched his…

  His mouth didn’t demand. In fact, he barely touched hers… at first. Then he started again, and this time his kiss meant business. He stayed gentle, and never tried to hold her or press himself against her. Just kissed… and oh, but his mouth was skilled. His lips grew slowly insistent, he added the barest tip of his tongue, the flavour of chocolate chip mint ice cream and something indefinable but Jamie. He evoked… Kate gulped and ordered her heart back where it belonged, but it totally ignored her. She was sure her eyes were like saucers staring at him in the twilight.

  “Thanks,” he whispered. “See you tomorrow?”

  “Afternoon. I’m on the gelato stand in the morning.” She gave herself a mental pat on the back. She’d not only spoken, what she said made sense.

  He raised her sticky hand to his mouth and kissed it. “See you then.”

  ~~*~~

  To partially counteract the intense tactile memory of Jamie’s kiss, Kate settled in with the sheaf of letters. An unexpected burst of dread flooded her heart as she turned to that night’s installment. Things weren’t looking good for Annie.

  The letter was more disturbing than any of the previous ones. It seemed that Annie’s suspicions were now hard fact.

  October 18

  My dear, dear Robert,

  You are still in Canada, aren’t you? You are coming home? I need you here, real bad. Can’t you get a leave or something? I’ve got to talk to you—I can’t bring myself to write it down. Oh, please come home, my darling. I don’t know what to do!

  Annie

  As she’d feared. Kate felt as if Annie’s panic had infected her. If Robert didn’t show… but Robert had kept the letters, so he had to have cared about her… but there was no Anne in the family that she’d heard about… but…

  It couldn’t end badly. It couldn’t. Kate drooped off to brush her teeth, feeling more desolate than she should for an almost seventy-year-old romance.

  ~~*~~

  Saturday, her day off, dawned sunny and brisk. Annie didn’t care. She was still in bed, even though it was after nine o’clock. Could things get worse? What if Robert couldn’t come rescue her? What if he got killed in Korea? What if that awful sergeant didn’t give him a leave? What if—”

  “Anne Marie Douglas. Do you want to tell me what’s going on, or am I supposed to guess?”

  Her mother hovered over her, probably to deliver a lecture about slothfulness. She should be dusting by now, or starting on the pile of ironing.

  Annie rolled onto her back and opened her eyes. “Nothing, Mother. I’m just a little tired. We were busy at work yesterday.”

  “That’s not what I meant and you know it. How do you explain this?” She dropped two boxes on Annie’s bed. Since she was thirteen, her mother had provided her monthly box of Kotex, slipped into her lingerie drawer. Annie had hidden the unopened boxes in her closet, on the floor behind her best shoes.

  She huddled further down under the covers.

  Her mother’s palm cracked across Annie’s cheek. Her face was livid. “That soldier, wasn’t it? You little fool.”

  “Mom,” she wailed, cringing from the slap, “he’s serving Canada. We owe it to them—”

  “We owe the forces, yes,” her mother hissed. “But you owe this man nothing. Nothing, Anne Marie.”

  “I love him,” she whimpered.

  Her mother straightened and stalked to the door, where she turned and pointed a damning finger. “You will not speak of this, to anyone, and especially not that horrid Betty Lou. I’ll make arrangements. Heaven help us when your father finds out.”

  ~~*~~

  Jamie grimaced at the mirror, or rather at the reflection behind him. “Gramps, couldn’t you just stay in the attic where you belong? I’m getting ready for bed here.”

  “Why’d I want to do that?” The familiar spectre propped itself against the door jamb, settling in for a heart-to-heart no doubt. “You’ve got this place to yourself with all those boys gone. Reckon you could use the company. And some advice from someone who’s been around the block a time or two.” The old man tapped his head, implying wisdom. “You asked that young woman out yet?”

  “We walked into town tonight, remember? I know you were eavesdropping.” Jamie went to work with his toothbrush.

  “Romantic, candles, walk by the ocean?”

  He spat and rinsed. “Thai, the Inner Harbour, ice cream. Satisfied?”

  His gramps did his famous eye-rolling routine in the mirror. “At least tell me you held her hand.”

  “I did.”

  “Hot damn. And from there? Kiss on the front porch? That’s why they made front porches, you know. So young people could spoon on ’em.”

  Spoon?

  “Listen.” Jamie glared at the reflection, but he couldn’t completely suppress the affection, and a little humour, behind the look. “Don’t expect a play-by-play, okay? We’re getting along fine.”

  “Atta boy.” His gramps gave him a thumbs-up and vanished through the ceiling, shouting “Don’t forget to floss” as he went. Jamie dutifully attended to his teeth, then dropped onto his bed. Spooning. Not a bad idea. There was something skittish about Kate. Take how she’d protested all the way into town that she was too busy, but once they got to the restaurant she’d relaxed, laughed and chatted, and even swung their joined hands as they walked back into James Bay. He could speculate, having had his own relationship disasters, but he wasn’t about to intrude on her private business. So the more he considered the porch, the more he approved.

  “Thanks, Gramps,” he murmured.

  “Any time, son.” No way to tell if the voice was real, or just something in his head.

  CHAPTER SIX

  All three of them met in the attic Saturday morning. The night before had gone better than Jamie had dared hope, and Kate had even brushed his cheek with her hand before disappearing into Mrs. Cummings’ front door. But this morning she seemed agitated and distant.

  “I got the genealogy stuff.” Jan thrust photocopies at Kate. “That’ll give you all the names for the last hundred years or so. I marked the people who actually lived here.”

  “Thanks, great.” Kate studied one page, then the other, and seemed to sag. “No Anne.”

  “Where’d you come up with Anne? There’s no mention in the papers I’ve been going through.”

  “Oh, just…” She waved a hand dismissively. “In that diary you found the first day, I think it was. I haven’t even thought about it since then.”

  She and Jan stood side by side, studying the family tree. Jamie surveyed the room. After a month, he could see the beginnings of order. Things were coming together. He said as much.

  “I’ve arranged for my supervisor to visit and look it over,” Kate said, brightening. “If there’s enough here to get a thesis out of it, well, it would be a lot more interesting than what I’m doing now.”

  “Wonderful idea,” Jan said. “If only we’d unearthed a great love story. The icing on the cake, so to speak.”

  A minor whirlwind disturbed the dust under the eaves, over near the window. Jamie quickly jerked his head around to watch. Jan glanced over, too.

  As quickly as it appeared, the whirlwind vanished.

  Kate obviously saw it; she looked spooked. “This kind of thing’s happening more and more frequently,” she said. “I’ll be working, and nothing’s going on, then there’s a breeze out of nowhere, or a noise, or something falls over. Sometimes it’s creepy. A lot of times, actually.”

  Jamie glared in the direction of the atmospheric disturbance, then put a hand on Kate’s shoulder. “This is an old house.”

  “Me
aning it’s draughty, or it has ghosts?” Kate crossed her arms. He sensed she was on edge this morning, and might be prepared to blame him for Gramps’ shenanigans.

  “Possibly both,” Jan said. She and Jamie locked gazes for a moment. “I doubt it’s anything to worry about. It’s too bright up here to really be haunted.”

  It was. They’d added several table lamps, powered by a maze of extension cords. Not that that would stop his grandfather. “I’ll investigate,” Jamie said, and strode to the corner, hunching over to fit in under the sloping rafters. He scuffled around to cover his voice and muttered, “Stop it. You’re scaring her.”

  “Get her the hell out of my things.”

  Jamie sighed; this was proving to be quite a morning, and they hadn’t even gotten started. He’d never heard such a belligerent tone from his Gramps. He stood abruptly, smacking his head on a rafter. “Ow, dammit.”

  “Careful, brother. That’s some valuable cranium there.” Jan walked over. “You okay?” she asked. Then, more quietly, “Is he okay?”

  “Fine. Let’s get to it.” Rubbing his head, he picked a box at random, dumped its contents onto the big table, and set to work. He found it hard to concentrate, though. First Kate’s tension, then Gramps… what was going on?

  Later, when Jan went downstairs, Jamie crossed the room to the desk where Kate was studying an old school exercise book and leaned over to put his hands on her shoulders. “There’s something wrong, isn’t there? Is it me? Did I upset you last night?”

  She swallowed, affecting nonchalance. “Of course not. I had a very nice time. But if you don’t mind—”

  “I do mind. Something’s bothering you. I’ll help, if I can.”

  “You can’t. It’s too late,” she said quickly.

  Jamie looked around. The attic had been transformed, the furniture rearranged, rough groupings of objects lining the walls. It was bright and relatively clean. But…

  “You’re spending too much time up here. You’ll lose perspective, which wouldn’t be good for your degree.”

  She slapped down the exercise book as if she were annoyed, then relented. “You’re right. Thing is, these people’s lives get to be a part of you. You watch the progression. Even the cleaning bills, the way they ebb and flow, different items as the family grows, then shrinks. Servants, then no servants. A baby died a couple of generations ago… I told you about that. There’s a nursemaid, then she’s gone. This confirmed it.” She showed him the infant’s place on his mother’s genealogy chart. “You start to feel like you know them. And sometimes, when things go wrong, you feel it.”

  “Then you need to get away,” he said, “We’re going to the park this afternoon. Ever been to the petting zoo? It’s for little kids, but fun to watch. We can grab a coffee somewhere and maybe choose a movie. You’re due for a break. And I want to spend more time with you.”

  Jan’s steps coming up the stairs interrupted them. “Okay?” Jamie asked, letting his hands rock her gently.

  Kate’s green eyes looked apprehensively into his for an instant, but then she said, “Okay.”

  The whirlwind swirled, drawing their attention, but died down quickly.

  Jamie shot an annoyed look at the miniature tornado, then squeezed her shoulder and returned to his box—old books of no particular interest, but Kate wanted everything catalogued. He kept an eye on both her and his Gramps for the rest of the morning.

  ~~*~~

  Kate mounted the stairs that night feeling… sated. Sated with Jamie and the miraculous way he made even the most ordinary activities fun. The taste of him. And the feel, because this time he hadn’t kept his distance. Yet he never pushed her, never insisted she go upstairs to his room, never expected any kind of payback. They’d skipped the movie, choosing instead to eat at the place down by the same breakwater where Betty Lou had lost her hat, then walk along the waterfront, watching the tourists and the cruise ships, tossing crumbs to the gulls. It shouldn’t have been exciting, but she’d wanted it to last forever.

  Jamie. How had she missed seeing how special he was?

  She met Mrs. Cummings in the upstairs hall. Kate felt so charitable and in love with life she stopped to chat for a minute, charming her landlady. Poor Mrs. Cummings; she was probably lonely. It didn’t hurt to give her a few minutes.

  Kate opened the door to her room and gasped.

  She’d left the letters in a pink file folder on her dresser. Now they were strewn across the bed and onto the floor, as if a stiff breeze had blown them around. But her window was closed.

  She stood stock still in the hall, peering in. Nothing disturbed the air now.

  Sometime in the afternoon, though, she’d been invaded.

  Leaving the door open, she snapped pictures, then gathered up the sheets and hastily shuffled them in order. All there, including the last ones, the ones she hadn’t read yet.

  She fired up her computer and scanned them all, just in case. Then she crossed the hall to the bathroom and took a hot shower, the hottest she could stand, hoping to relax her rigid muscles. A shower that temperature, back in Toronto, would probably lead to heat prostration. One thing about James Bay, it cooled off at night. Ocean breeze, Kate figured.

  Another thing about James Bay. At least one of its houses was haunted. She was no dummy. She’d put two and two together and reached a conclusion. Jamie’s whispering to the whirlwind, the mysterious conversation when his phone had been in his pocket, the feeling of being watched… Jamie had some questions to answer.

  ~~*~~

  Sunday morning, with the letters collected and digitized, Kate felt better. Calmer, although she could think of no set of circumstances to explain the disruption of the letters beyond interference by a ghost, which seemed far less probable by daylight.

  She had just gone downstairs to make herself a piece of toast and pour a cup of coffee, waving to Mrs. Cummings in the sitting room with the Globe and Mail, when the roar of a motorcycle cut through the peace.

  There was no mistaking the sound of that Ducati.

  Her stomach twisting into a knot, she abandoned her breakfast and stepped onto the front porch, catching Mrs. Cummings’ disapproving glance as she passed the entry to the sitting room.

  Clint.

  He killed the engine on his prized motorcycle, stowed his helmet, and swaggered up the steps. “Babe,” he said. “You look good. Delectable.”

  The screen door eased itself closed behind her, as if cutting off her only escape from the lion’s den. She squared her shoulders. “What are you doing here?” The words appeared of their own volition. If she took the time to think, she’d probably bolt. Or collapse into a puddle.

  “Oh, Katydid.” He affected a mock groan. “My little bug. I’ve gotta tell you, strange as it may seem, I missed you. Problem identified, problem solved, right? I’m taking you back where you belong. Besides, I felt like a road trip. Two birds, eh?” His hand touched her bare arm, then stroked, up and down. “Can’t believe you live in this dump.” He turned from her and dropped into one of the chairs, his leather-clad legs sprawled out in front of him. “Got anything to eat?”

  With unexpected indignation welling at the slight to Mrs. Cummings’—and Jamie’s—house, she studied the apparition before her. Had his eyes always been so small and close-set? She could forgive the greasy hair because of the motorcycle helmet, but when did he start resembling a snake? “Go away,” she said.

  Jamie picked that moment to step onto the porch, for once remembering to close his screen door quietly behind him. “Morning, Kate,” he said, and shot her a quizzical look. “All good?”

  “Nothing’s good, actually.” Ignoring Clint, she focused on Jamie and watched his expression change, moving through worry into puzzlement.

  As if noticing him for the first time, he nodded to Clint. “You’re visiting here?”

  Clint shrugged that elaborate, go-to-hell shrug he used to dismiss people. “A little sightseeing before taking Katie here home where she belongs.�
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  Jamie clued in quickly. He looked from her back to Clint, then took his usual seat on the porch rail. “Somehow I don’t think so. Up to Kate, of course.”

  Clint stood. His leather motorcycle jacket made him look beefier, more intimidating. “Here’s the thing, man,” he said, still speaking with that irritating drawl. “Katie’s mine. I’ve let her have her fun this winter, but that’s enough. She’s wanted in Toronto.”

  “She’s wanted here,” Jamie said.

  “The Katydid and me,” Clint said slowly, “we’re gonna spend the day.” He took a step toward Jamie, putting the two men almost chest to chest. “There must be some place in this stodgy burg to go. And when this day’s over, she’s packing her bags.”

  Clint didn’t risk violence against himself, Kate knew. He’d push, but only so far. Few people stood up to his intimidation tactics, so even she wasn’t sure where the limits were. She didn’t want Jamie in the middle of this mess. It was hers to handle.

  She looked from Clint to Jamie and back. The oddest idea popped into her mind: I wonder if Jan would take me shopping. I’m ready for clothes that aren’t black.

  And that confirmed her decision right there.

  “You’re mistaken,” she said slowly, never moving her gaze from Clint’s face. “I am not spending the day with you, or even the next ten minutes. I want you to get on that bike and leave. Go back to Toronto. Nobody wants you here. Not me, or anybody else.”

  He crossed the porch and pinned her to the wall with his body. “You aren’t hearing me, little bug. I’ve decided you’re coming home. Got it?”

  “No.” Just the one word, but Kate experienced a freedom she hadn’t known in… forever. What on earth had she ever seen in this cocksure bully?

  He gripped her arm, his fingers digging in. “Listen, babe. You know better than—”

  “You listen.” Jamie closed in and placed his hand on Clint’s forearm. “Leave. Now. She doesn’t want you here, and that’s enough for me.”