Miles To Go

by Beryl Young

  Jerry slides over to make room for me on the sagging mattress. “Come and lie down.”

  I try hard not to touch any part of him. I leave one foot on the floor to keep from falling off the mattress. This is the first time I’ve been inside a cell. The first time I’ve been beside a boy on a bed. My throat feels tight.

  “Not such a bad place to hang out,” Jerry says.

  “Not bad.” I feel strange. Any second now I’ll roll right off. Maybe Jerry will be my boyfriend. I should know more about him.

  I clear my throat. “What’s your full name?”

  “Jerrard Edward. After my uncle.”

  “Jerry’s better than Jerrard.”

  “What’s yours?

  “Margaret Rose. After the princess.”

  Jerry laughs. “I prefer Maggie.”

  “My dad calls me Mags,” I say, shifting my head to look at him. Then I feel embarrassed and say, “Right here is where the murderer tried to kill himself.”

  “Oh boy! My mom says she heard he got a knife somehow and tried to slit his wrists.”

  This creeps me out. We both sit up. We inspect the walls and the floor.

  “I don’t see any blood stains,” I say, standing up.

  Jerry stands too, looking around. “I guess the janitor cleaned them up.”

  “Dad says the prisoner will probably be sent to the mental institution over in Weyburn. He says he’s mentally ill.”

  “More like a guilty conscience, I’d say.”

  “I don’t know about that. I heard him crying.”

  “No kidding,”

  “Yes. I snuck down, but I didn’t actually see him. Just heard him crying. I can’t figure out why. I mean, how can you kill two people, people you should love, and then turn around and cry about it?”

  “Confused in his head. That’s mental illness, I guess.”

  “I guess. We’d better go,” I say.

  Back outside I can breathe again. We go around by the garage and make plans to meet tomorrow after lunch for the ride out to Anna’s. At the gate, Tommy calls, “Don’t forget the dare!”

  I think he means his dare for me to get cigarettes, not my dare for him to kiss me, but I’m not sure. I go back up the stairs.

  Now all I have to do is figure out what to take Anna and how to explain another bike ride with Jerry tomorrow. I’ll tell Mom that Jerry and I are still looking for geodes and we won’t be gone long.

  I LIE IN bed with my mind going through all the things in my room, thinking of what I can give Anna. I could take her some of my books, but they’re secondhand and I don’t know how much time she has to read. I could take her one of my best sweaters, but Mom would notice it was gone.

  My eyes land on the china bluebird on my dresser. It would be hard for me to give away something Gram gave me. Something so special. But I remember reading that a gift is only worth giving if it’s something you truly love yourself. I do love this china bird, and I love Anna too. And she doesn’t have anything special for herself.

  Gram would understand.

  The little bird would be something to give Anna hope—hope that things will be easier some day. I fall asleep with a warm feeling inside me.

  I’ve found the perfect present.

  Anna

  SUNDAY, MAY 23

  LUCY TIPPED THE potty over when she stood up. I’ve just cleaned up the mess when Joe comes in from the yard, tracking his muddy boots over the kitchen floor.

  “Joe, take off your boots and clean up the mud!”

  “Sorry, crabby Annie,” he says, getting a rag. He gives the floor a half-hearted wipe, throws the rag in the corner, and grabs a piece of bread. He smears honey on it and heads outside again. His mood matches mine today.

  I have a sore throat and feel I’m catching the girls’ colds. Both of them coughed all last night. It’s cloudy today but not raining, and so I decide to hang the diapers outside.

  I put Bella in her cradle, where she sucks away happily at her thumb. I dump the box of blocks on the floor for Helen and Lucy. “Stay here and play. Call me if Bella cries,” I tell them.

  Outside, it’s warmer than I expected, with a good wind to blow the diapers, like a row of grey flags. Long thin clouds stream through the sky, and the wind is warm on my face. I’m looking out at the fields when I hear someone calling my name.

  Am I dreaming or is that Maggie coming down the driveway on her bike?

  I run to meet her. “Maggie, you rode all the way out here!”

  She’s out of breath, but smiling, the freckles standing out across her nose and her cheeks bright red. “I had to see you. Jerry rode out from town with me, but he turned back at the highway.”

  “He could have come in.”

  “He says hi. He’s not sure what to say to you about your mother.” She leans her bike against the house and catches her breath.

  “I’m so glad to see you,” I tell her, giving her a hug. “Miss Alexander told me about your grandmother. I’m so sorry.”

  “I miss her a lot, Anna.”

  “I miss my mother too.”

  We go inside, and Maggie makes a fuss over the girls. Helen shows her the blocks, and Maggie says, “Can I build something with you?”

  “Uh-hum,” says Lucy, sliding over and pulling Maggie down beside her on the floor. They build happily while I wash the pile of dishes. Bella wakes up and starts to fuss in her cradle.

  Maggie calls out, “Can I get her?”

  She picks Bella up and sits holding her at the kitchen table.

  “Oh, she’s just smiled at me!” she says.

  “She’s been smiling for a while.”

  “She’s beautiful. And she’s growing so fast. I just bent over to give her a kiss and she tried to grab my glasses. She’s strong!”

  “I know. She kicks her legs all the time when she’s beside me in bed. I hold her close and we fall back asleep.”

  Maggie plays patty cake with Bella and looks across the table at me. “You’re taking good care of her, Anna.”

  “It’s hard sometimes, but I’m keeping my promise to Mama.”

  “The girls are happy too,” Maggie says.

  I watch them playing together in the living room. “Maggie, I worry that maybe someone from the Welfare Department can take Bella away.”

  “What makes you think that?”

  I lower my voice so the girls don’t hear. “Two church ladies came to the house last week. They said if I couldn’t manage with Bella, she’d be taken away.”

  “Oh, that would never happen. Bella’s part of your family. No outsider can split up a family,” Maggie says.

  She sounds so sure. I hope she’s right. Maggie looks over at the girls and says, “Why don’t we have a proper tea party today?”

  “Yes!” Helen shouts.

  “Uh-hum!” says Lucy.

  “Good idea,” I say as I slide the saucepan onto the stove and reach for Mama’s cups. Maggie won’t mind that they’re chipped.

  We sit around the kitchen table. Maggie talks in a grown-up lady’s voice. “Shall I pour?” The girls giggle and pass their cups. Maggie and I speak like women at a tea party in a game of pretend that my mother used to play with me.

  “Care for sugar in your tea?” Maggie asks the girls.

  “I’d like two spoonfuls, please,” Helen says. She stirs her tea carefully.

  “Me.” Lucy lifts her cup and spills the tea.

  Sitting here at the kitchen table makes me think of Mama. She’d call me for tea and let out a big sigh as she lowered herself onto a chair. I’d watch her take a long sip, her thin fingers circling the cup, her brown eyes loving as she smiled across at me.

  Helen is chatting away, completely into playing the grown-up, and asks Maggie, “And why are you wearing glasses, Maggie?”

  “Because I need them to see things properly.” She leans over and tickles Helen and then Lucy. “I couldn’t see both of you if I didn’t have glasses!”

  Helen has another question.
“Do you have a sister, Maggie?”

  “I have a brother,” Maggie says.

  “Do you play with him?”

  “Not much.”

  I notice she changes the subject.

  “Such fine weather we’re having, isn’t it? I do believe spring is on the way.”

  “We saw Mommy’s favourite shooting stars!” Helen says.

  “Fwowwrs,” Lucy adds, tea dripping down her blouse.

  “Will you take me to see them?” Maggie smiles at the girls.

  Maggie makes everything fun. I can feel myself relaxing.

  “Why don’t you have a break, Anna?” she says. “I’ll take Bella and the girls out.”

  I’m not sure about this, but Maggie’s already putting sweaters on the excited girls.

  She looks pleased when she sees me wrap Bella in the yellow blanket her mother made.

  The girls are out the door already, leading the way.

  “Watch Lucy beside the creek,” I call to Maggie. “Hold her hand.”

  She runs after the girls. “I’ll take good care of them.”

  It feels strange to be in the house alone. I should clean up the tea things and pick up the blocks, but I think I’ll sit for a minute in Mama’s old chair.

  The next thing I know, Lucy and Helen are bursting in the door and I wake up. They’re in high spirits after their time with Maggie. It makes me feel guilty. I’ve been so busy trying to keep everything together. Why don’t I ever make time just to have fun with them?

  “I think Bella’s getting hungry,” Maggie says.

  Maggie sits at the kitchen table and watches me warm the milk on the stove.

  “Anna, you look awfully tired.”

  “I’ve just woken up and I feel a bit dopey.”

  “Is there anyone to help you around the house?”

  “Mrs. Covey comes over now and then for an hour.”

  “I want to help, Anna, but I don’t know how.”

  “It’s not up to you, Maggie. You have your own life. This is my life now. When Bella gets older it’ll be easier. She’ll sleep through the night and soon start eating solid food. And Helen will be in school before too long.”

  We settle the girls on the couch with a book and Maggie gives Bella her bottle while I heat up some soup for supper.

  Maggie says, “I saw a woman in town last week. She was walking along by the Post Office. She looked like she might be my real mother.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She had glasses like me and she was smartly dressed in a blue suit. She seemed friendly. She smiled at me. I smiled back, but we both kept going. Now I wish I’d said something to her.”

  “Maggie, do you honestly think your mother isn’t your real mother?”

  “I’m more certain about it every day. We’re so different. Mostly I think it’s because she’s mean to me and so nice to Tommy.”

  Bella’s squirming, so I tell Maggie, “Pat her back to burp her. Babies are cranky when they have gas.”

  Maggie pats Bella’s back, and I sit down beside her. “Lots of kids feel the way you do.”

  “Tommy looks like her, but I’m like Dad. In every way.” She rubs Bella’s back. “I try to imagine what my real mother is like. If she’s even alive. Then I think maybe I’m making it all up.”

  “I don’t understand why you haven’t asked if you’re adopted.”

  “I had decided to ask Gram, but she was tired when she came to stay with us. And the only time we were alone was at night when she’d fall asleep … and then she died.”

  Maggie looks so unhappy. I wish I could help. I take Bella and put her down in her cradle.

  “Why not just ask your parents?”

  “I think I’m afraid of their answer,” Maggie says.

  “Maybe it’s better to know one way or the other than to keep worrying about it.”

  “I’m not sure.” Maggie shakes her head and looks anxiously toward the door. “I should go home, it’s getting late.”

  “Stay and have soup with us. I’ve got a potful. Papa will be home any minute and he’ll give you a ride to town in his truck.”

  “He wouldn’t mind?” Maggie says. “I don’t like the idea of riding my bike alone.”

  “He’ll be glad to drive you.” The door bangs as I put soup in the bowls. Maggie stands up expectantly, but it’s Berny and Joe. They sit down with us, and I watch the loaf of bread disappear.

  “Will your dad be home soon?” Maggie’s looking at the door.

  “Any minute. Going with him will be faster than riding your bike.” I light the kerosene lamp and help Lucy eat her soup.

  Maggie’s finished doing the dishes with the girls when I hear Papa’s truck. The door slams, and right away I can tell by his swagger and his loud voice he’s been drinking.

  “How is my liddle family tonight? Who ish this pretty visitor?” He hasn’t shaved for days and his hands are shaking.

  “It’s Maggie, Papa. She’s come all the way out to spend the afternoon with me. She rode her bike and now she needs a ride back into town. Can you put her bike in the back of the truck?”

  “Sure, I will do that.” Papa beams at Maggie.

  “Can we go now?” Maggie asks.

  “First I must eat,” Papa says.

  Maggie looks worried. She glances out the window. Suddenly she jumps up and puts on her jacket. “It’s okay, Mr. Lozowski. It won’t take me long to get home.”

  “Wait a minute there!” Papa reaches out his arm out to stop Maggie. “I will take you. First I finish here. Got more bread, Anna?”

  Before I can say anything, Maggie is going to the door. I run after her.

  “Are you going? Will you be all right?”

  “It’s not even dark yet. I’ll be home in less than an hour.” She reaches into her jacket pocket and takes out a white box. “Happy birthday, Anna. You’ll be thirteen next week.” She hands me the box. “Older than me for six whole months.”

  “Thanks for remembering, Maggie.” I watch the best friend I’ll ever have ride away in the dwindling light to the main road.

  Maggie

  SUNDAY, MAY 23

  THERE’S ENOUGH LIGHT to see, but I don’t remember the road being so rough. The noise of a car comes up behind me, the headlights flaring down the road. I wheel my bike to the side. The car stops. The driver, a middle-aged man wearing a windbreaker, leans out the window, his dark eyes looking me up and down. No one I know.

  “What’s a young girl like you doing out alone at this time of night?” He has an accent I don’t recognize. He might be okay.

  My foot is on the bike pedal as I explain. “I’ve been visiting a friend and it got later than I thought. Just heading back to town.” I move my bike further along, careful not to slide into the ditch.

  “Not a good idea,” he says. “It’s almost completely dark. Get in the car. I’ll put your bike in the boot and we’ll have you in town in no time.”

  “Boot.” That means he’s British. In English books, car trunks are called “boots.” I don’t know anyone in Deep Creek who speaks like that. He must be from out of town. I do know enough not to speak to strangers.

  My wheels get traction in the gravel, and I call out, “It’s okay. It won’t take me long.”

  The man drives slowly along beside me and keeps talking out the car window.

  “You’re being a foolish girl. Get off your bike. I’ll load it up for you and have you in town quickly.” He sounds angry.

  My voice comes out in rush. “Please leave me alone. My dad’s the RCMP officer in town.”

  “Okay, girlie, but be careful. You have no lights on your bike. Cars coming along won’t see you.” He shakes his head, then drives away, slowly gaining speed until his car disappears from view.

  It’s getting darker, and I pedal as fast as I can on the gravel road. I’m shivering. My hands are cold on the metal handlebars. In my rush to leave I didn’t do up my jacket, but I can’t stop. I keep wondering if the stranger
might turn around and come back and force me into his car.

  It’s much darker now, and I still can’t see the town lights. Then, at the side of the road, I hear rustling noises. Huge shadows are moving around there. The shadows shuffle and shift, more solid and black than the night around them. What are they? Are there some wild creatures out here that nobody told me about? I hear their long, heaving breaths. My head is pounding so hard I can’t think.

  I’m stupid to be out here alone at night. I pedal faster, wobbling on the rough stones, and now the massive creatures are coming closer to the road. I hear a muffled lowing, and for a second, I don’t recognize the sound. And then I understand. The dark shadows in the field are cows! Probably Mr. Lozowski’s cows.

  I’d been holding my breath and now I’m breathing too fast. Calm down, I tell myself. You’re silly to get frightened over a bunch of cows. Some prairie girl you are.

  I bend over the handlebars and I’m pedalling fast down the road when two yellow eyes flash across the front of my bike. I swerve and skid, falling with the bike almost on top of me. The animal, whatever it was, has scurried into the bushes on the other side. I crawl out from under the bike and stand up. My hand hurts. I brush at the gravel stuck to it.

  The bike wheels seem to work. I climb back on, but something’s wrong.

  I can’t see! My glasses have been knocked off. They must be lying somewhere on the road. I put the bike down and start to look for them. I grope in the road, but it’s too dark to see anything. I sweep my hands in circles over the gravel, but I can’t feel the glasses. Now I have to ride home without them.

  Never mind, I think, as I see the town street lights, it was worth it. Anna knows I remembered her birthday and she has my present to open.

  As I park my bike by the garage, I shiver. I’m in trouble. It’s late. And I’m home without glasses.

  Mom’s at the door as soon as I open it. Her eyes look red and her voice is sharp. “Young lady, you had me scared half to death.”

  I’m shivering with the cold.

  “What have you done with your glasses?” she says. “Has anyone hurt you?”