by Beryl Young
I run back home, rush up the front stairs into the RCMP office, past a startled May, and stop in front of my father’s big desk.
Dad looks up from his papers and raises his eyebrows. I don’t give him a chance to speak.
“I never knew my father was a traitor!” I shout.
“Calm down and sit,” Dad says firmly.
I stay standing and glare at him. “Why did you have Anna’s sisters taken away?” I glare at him.
Dad takes a deep breath and leans across the desk toward me. “Maggie, I did what a police officer has to do when someone makes a complaint. Mrs. Covey spoke to me about her concerns for Anna’s family. My job was to talk to Mr. Lozowski. When I did, he told me things were too difficult for Anna.”
“He could have stayed home and helped her!”
“No, he’s a farmer. He has to take care of his cattle and work in the fields. Anyway, he’d been to the Welfare Department to ask for help before I talked to him.”
I plunk down on the chair across from the desk. “You mean he’d already decided to have the girls taken away? You weren’t the one who made him do it?”
“No, I wasn’t. I don’t have the power to do that.”
“But Anna’s lost all her sisters!”
“Think about it. It’s for the best. It was impossible for the family to continue the way it was. Anna’s father knew it. Someday Anna will understand that her father was trying to make sure his girls have a good future. That includes Anna.”
“But Anna’s life is ruined.”
Dad shakes his head. “No, it’s not. She has a chance to go to school and live her own life now.”
“You don’t understand. How can Anna ever be happy when she’s broken her promise to her mother?”
“The baby will be cared for by her new parents. By letting Bella go, Anna is keeping the promise to her mother. Anna’s given that baby a future. Can you understand that?”
I pick at my thumbnail. “Sort of. But what’s Bella’s future without her own family?”
“I was told Bella’s with good people.” Dad rubs the back of his neck. “The adults have worked things out, Maggie.”
“Sometimes kids know what’s best for other kids.”
“Adults have the experience to make the right decisions, Maggie,” Dad says. “You should know that Anna’s father is trying to straighten out his own life. The plan is for the two little girls to be back with the family in a few years when they’re older. It’s a good plan.”
I’m not so sure about that, I think as I walk back down the office stairs. My father didn’t see Anna’s face when I said goodbye to her.
Anna
FRIDAY, JUNE 4
IT’S STRANGE TO be back at school, but I’m trying hard to catch up with the work I missed. Miss Alexander is helping me, and so are Maggie and Jerry. Maggie told me she got a B on the project—she had to finish it by herself. She also told me that bison is the correct species name, but buffalo is commonly used here on the prairies.
At recess, Maggie and Jerry are laughing about something over at the art table when Carolyn comes up to me.
“I guess you notice that things have changed since you’ve been away. Maggie is best friends with Jerry now. Boy crazy, I’d say.”
I’m too surprised to say anything. I shrug my shoulders and turn away. Maybe that’s true. Maybe Maggie and I aren’t best friends any more. I put my head down to finish the science assignment. It still hurts to hold a pencil in the hand that was burned.
I look up to see Maggie standing by my desk. “Let’s eat lunch in our special place today.”
“Sure,” I say. Does she plan to tell me we aren’t best friends anymore?
We sit by ourselves outside on the bench. Right away, Maggie starts complaining about her mother.
“Mom’s so mean. She won’t let me quit music lessons and she lets Tommy get away with murder.”
“Tommy’s just five years old, Maggie.”
“Well, the only time my mother was nice to me was when I fell off my bike. I should arrange to fall off every day.”
I know she’s trying to be funny, and I guess I should be glad that she can talk to me about this. But I’ve heard it all before. It frustrates me when she never does anything about it.
“Did you ever come straight out and ask your parents if you’re adopted?”
“It’s never the right time.”
Somehow it’s always the right time to complain to me.
“Just do it, Maggie!” I tell her.
“Easy for you to say. You don’t have to live with my mother.”
“Stop whining! At least you have a mother.”
Maggie stares at me, and my words hang in the air between us. She gets up from where we’re sitting and walks into the school, leaving me alone on the bench.
The afternoon drags as I try to catch up on school work. The room smells of glue from the art table and wet jackets in the cloakroom. As soon as school’s out I’ll find Maggie and tell her I’m sorry. But when the bell rings, she grabs her jacket and dashes out the door. I rush after her, but I can’t find her. So I leave.
Today is the first visit with my sisters. I walk along the streets to where Mrs. Brooks lives, hoping I might see Maggie, but I know I won’t. The barracks is in the other direction.
Mrs. Brooks opens the door with a big smile, and the girls rush up behind her, reaching to kiss me.
“Come see our pussy cat,” Helen says.
Lucy grabs a grey kitten in the living room. She squishes the cat in her arms and holds him up to me.
“Mrs. B got a kitten especially for us. We call him Boo!” Helen says.
“But that’s what we call our cat on the farm,” I say, trying not to feel hurt.
“We know that,” Helen says. “We like the name.”
“It was kind of Mrs. Brooks to get a kitten for you.”
“I can count to twenty, Anna.”
“Can you? Good girl, Helen.”
The girls are wearing matching red plaid dresses tied with a sash at the back. Nothing our family could ever afford.
“You look pretty in your new dresses,” I tell them.
Helen twirls around and Lucy lifts up her dress to show me she’s wearing underpants. “Look. Pants!”
Mrs. Brooks smiles. “You did a good job of getting her toilet trained, Anna. She’s a big girl now, aren’t you, Lucy?”
“Um, yep,” Lucy says.
“Come see our room,” Helen says, taking me by the hand. Lucy follows behind. The twin beds with pink bedspreads look as though they belong in a magazine.
“And look at our dolls.” Helen holds up a golden-haired doll with blue eyes and a pretty face.
“Mine,” Lucy says, holding up a doll that’s almost as big as she is.
We play with the dolls for a while. They have so many doll outfits, including coats, hats, and fur muffs. I used to wish for a doll with clothes like this.
Mrs. Brooks comes into the room and suggests I might like to take the girls for a walk. “Why not go to the library, Anna? I want Helen and Lucy get new books every week.”
I dress the girls in their new sweaters, so much nicer than the worn ones they had at home.
While we’re walking, Helen says, “She told us to call her Mrs. B.”
“Misbee,” Lucy says proudly.
“Do you like her?” I ask.
“She’s nice to us and we have pretty things,” Helen says, “but we miss you, Anna.”
“I miss you too,” I say. I squeeze my eyes to keep the tears inside as we walk along the sidewalk.
Their life here is better than I could ever give them. Warm sweaters. Library books. And Mrs. Brooks is better with them than I was. Lucy is talking more and she’s out of diapers. New dresses and new boots. They’ve got everything little girls could want.
On the way back, the girls skip along the street with their picture books. They even know where to go.
Helen says, “Papa came to s
ee us this morning. He brought candy.”
Lucy smacks her lips. “Hum, jellies.”
When we’re back in their bedroom, I see two flannel nightgowns hanging on the back of the door. I used to love it when the girls crawled into my bed, their warm little bodies curled up beside me. It hurts so much to know that they’re curling up beside someone else.
When I say goodbye, we can’t stop hugging each other.
Papa is waiting for me at the service station. He looks better. He shaves every day now and he’s been to the barber to get his hair cut.
“You look good, Papa,” I say.
“Five days now I stop drinking.”
“That’s really good, Papa.” I cross my fingers that he can keep it up.
Papa starts the truck and turns onto the highway. “The girls are well, Anna.”
“It doesn’t mean I don’t miss them, Papa.”
On the way home, I keep thinking about how Maggie looked at me when I said that mean thing. Carolyn was right. I don’t blame Maggie for preferring Jerry’s company. I’ve become a miserable person.
Papa stops the truck by our house and I sit in the front seat looking out at the farm. Nothing has changed. The paint on the house is still peeling. The grey barn with one side collapsing is still here. The three horses stand in their favourite corner of the field, the wind flipping their tails in the air.
But my whole world has changed. No grey diapers hanging on the line. No little girls’ voices calling to me.
And an empty space inside me where sweet Bella was.
Maggie
SUNDAY, JUNE 6
I’M LYING ON my bed thinking about how mean Anna was to me. It felt like being slapped when she said I was whining about my mother. It was a cruel thing to say. Who can you talk to about things if not your best friend?
Maybe she’s changed since all her sisters were taken away. I feel sorry for her, but she turned on me. Friends shouldn’t do that. I decide that from now on, Anna can say what she likes, but I won’t let it hurt me.
Tommy wanders into the bedroom. “Mom and Dad sent me out of the kitchen. They’re talking about you again.”
He’s quiet, just standing there, then he blurts out, “Are you mad at me, Maggie?”
“Yes, I am. You’re a dirty squealer, telling Mom and Dad about me smoking.”
“I didn’t! It was May. I heard her telling Dad.” His face is crumbling. “I didn’t snitch on you, Maggie. Honest.”
It could have been May. She saw me going behind the garage with Jerry. I guess I was wrong. “Okay, Tommy. Sorry. But try not to be such a brat all the time.”
In a flash, that smile comes out. The smile that goes from one side of his face to the other. He’s not a bad kid. If he ends up stealing and smoking it will be because of me.
Oh, Gram, did you watch me steal the cigarettes? Are you close by? Are you disappointed because I’m behaving badly?
I hear Mom calling me to the kitchen. What have I done now? I walk slowly down the hall, fearing the worst.
Mum’s wearing her apron and holding one out for me. “It’s time you learned how to make pastry.”
I’m surprised. Mom’s not mad. She’s never asked me to bake with her before.
“What about Tommy? You’re always saying I should include him.”
She’s getting out the mixing bowl. “You know Tommy. He’d have flour all over the floor.”
I can’t believe it. She never says anything bad about Tommy.
“Wash your hands and bring me the flour from the cupboard.”
Mom shows me how to crumble the lump of hard lard into the flour and then roll out the pastry. I fill the base with preserved Saskatoon berries, sugar, and lemon juice, then Mom shows me how to make a professional-looking pattern around the edge. She makes three slits in the top and puts the pie in the oven.
She gets us each a glass of lemonade and we sit together at the kitchen table. This is the first time I’ve been across the table from Mom with no one else around. No Tommy to demand her attention. No Dad who gets mine.
It’s my chance to ask if I’m adopted. Just do it, Anna told me. Just do it.
The house is quiet except for the ticking of the kitchen clock.
Of course, Mom could deny that I’m adopted.
She could get mad.
She could start to cry.
Or I could fall down in a faint.
I shuffle my feet back and forth on the floor. Just do it.
“Mom, can I ask you something?”
“Sure.” She sits back in her chair.
“I was wondering if I … if I’m… I know this sounds silly.” My heart is thudding like a truck engine. “I was wondering if I was adopted.”
“Why would you think that, Maggie?” Mom sits up and looks hard at me.
“I don’t know. I guess because you seem to like Tommy better than me. It’s because he can do no wrong and everything I do is wrong. It makes me think you don’t love me.”
There. It’s out.
Mom reaches across the table and takes my hand. “Well, I do love you. And you are certainly not adopted, Maggie. I’d better show you something.”
While Mom goes into the bedroom, I wait at the table, hardly daring to breathe. She comes back with an official birth certificate. I see the date and my name. Mom’s name is there and Dad’s too. I weighed seven pounds two ounces and was born in Regina. I stare at the paper.
Mom gets an old photograph album from the bookcase and flips through the pages. She stops at a photograph of a young woman in a loose smock standing beside Dad in front of a house. It’s Mom, and she’s obviously expecting. Dad is beaming. I run my finger over the picture. That’s me under the smock.
Mom says, “You’re smiling. Do you feel better now?”
“I do, Mom. I’m glad you showed me.”
I feel a whole lot better. “I just needed to know for sure, Mom.” I can’t stop smiling.
“How did you get the idea you were adopted?”
I take a deep breath. “Because sometimes you’re mean to me.”
Mom is quiet and shakes her head.
Have I gone too far?
She looks right at me. “I know I’m strict with you, Maggie. I think it’s because you remind me so much of myself. We’re both strong-willed. I remember what it was like growing up, and I don’t want you to make any mistakes. I want you to be the best you can be.”
Her eyes are watery. “It frightened me that night you came home so late from Anna’s farm. You could have been badly hurt. I saw how vulnerable you are and I wanted to feel close to you. That’s why I wanted us to bake together today.”
I think there are tears in my own eyes.
“Mom, I’m sorry I’ve been acting crummy lately. Like stealing the cigarettes and snapping back at you.”
“Yes, those were mistakes, but you’re also a very caring girl. I’ve seen how loving you were to your grandmother and how loyal you are to Anna.”
Mom touches my arm. “We’re so much alike. I know I’m quick-tempered at times, but, Maggie, so are you! There should never be any doubt in your mind that you’re my daughter.”
She’s right. Tommy’s not like us at all.
Mom takes my hand. “Let’s both try to watch our tempers. We can do better.” Her blue eyes sparkle as she smiles at me, and I think how pretty she is. In lots of ways she’s the perfect wife for Dad.
The bell on the stove rings and we take the pie out. Dark purple juice has bubbled through the slits and spread over the top of the pie. Mom nods toward the pie, and I nod back.
“Why not?” she says, putting out two plates.
I get forks, and we sit at the table and cut two pieces. It’s delicious.
“You’ll be a good cook, Maggie.”
“Take after my mother,” I say, and we both grin.
It’s a fresh start for me with Mom.
I think of Anna without a mother to help her figure things out. “I’m lucky to have you
, Mom,” I say quietly. She pats my arm, then stands to take our plates to the sink.
“Come and help me clean up,” she says.
Anna
WEDNESDAY, JUNE 9
LAST NIGHT I was doing my homework at the kitchen table and I heard Bella cry. It was her special “I’m hungry” cry. I was almost at the top of the stairs before I remembered Bella wasn’t there.
I came down, put my head on the kitchen table, and let my tears out. One thing I’ve learned is that there are always more tears to come. There’s a bottomless well of sadness inside me. A well that will never empty.
Maggie
SATURDAY, JUNE 12
JERRY PHONED THIS afternoon to see if he could come over to play catch with Tommy. He says he’ll bring his dog. Tommy bounces around with excitement when I tell him.
“I really love dogs, Jerry,” Tommy says when we meet Jerry in the front yard of the barracks. “What’s his name?”
“Wellington.”
Tommy looks at Jerry with a rapt expression on his face. “Why did you call him that?”
“I dunno,” Jerry says. “He’s my dog, so I got to pick. I like the name Wellington.”
“Neat,” Tommy says.
I cringe when I notice Tommy still has a red mark on his forehead.
Tommy chases the dog, who runs around in circles, then he stops, breathless, and comes back to play catch with us. He grins at us. “If I had a dog I’d name him after my favourite cartoon character.”
“Who’s your favourite cartoon character?” Jerry and I ask at the same time.
“Mickey Mouse.”
Jerry and I exchange a look. Tommy doesn’t see Jerry’s eyes crinkling at the corners. We both think it’s hilarious that Jimmy wants to name his dog after a Walt Disney mouse.
Tommy’s too excited to notice that we’re laughing at him. He picks Wellington up, squeezing him so hard the dog jumps down from his arms and runs away.
