By the Skin of His Teeth

by Ann Walsh

  I laughed. "Perhaps ‘Joseph' is still there waiting for us."

  Jenny pulled her arm from mine. "Ted MacIntosh, I don't want to hear that name again. Kindly keep your feeble jokes to yourself. I would rather return to the Frasers and make sure the twins are properly tucked in for the night than stay here and listen to you blethering on about Joseph!"

  "I'm sorry. Please don't be upset." I had seen both Bridget and Jenny angry once today. It was an experience I didn't want to repeat. "I promise I'll never mention him again."

  "See that you don't. For I'm truly tired of the fellow." She replaced her arm in mine. The sky blazed again, this time with orange lights.

  The boardwalk in this part of town was deserted. "You're right, Jenny," I said. "Most of the fireworks are exploding high above the rooftops. We have a good view from here."

  "And nae one steps on my toes here, either," Jenny said, plopping onto the boardwalk stairs and pulling off one of her boots.

  I averted my eyes while she rubbed her toes, then replaced the boot. "That's better," she said, then gasped. "Oh, the sky is all yellow!"

  We could still hear the crowd cheering and clapping, but there was no one else around us. It was as if we had our own private display.

  "See," I said, pointing, "three colours at once, and higher than the rest." I sat down beside Jenny.

  "It's beautiful."

  "Yes...beautiful." But I didn't mean the fireworks.

  Jenny turned to me. She took one of my hands in hers and stared earnestly into my face. Or at least I think she was looking at my face. She still wore her hat with the black veil. "I must ask you a question, Ted."

  "What? I'll tell you anything you want to know." I put my other hand on top of hers.

  "I can nae forget about today and the Three-Legged Race until I know something. Will you answer me honestly?"

  "As honestly as I can. What's the question?"

  "Bridget said you would nae have been part of such a silly prank, that you thought it a glaikit—nae, a right eejit idea— and you were a sensible young man and wouldn't have raced with me at all, even if she hadn't stopped me."

  I strongly suspected what Jenny's question would be. I also knew I didn't want to answer it. That I didn't dare answer it.

  "Well? Would you have raced with me? Even though you knew it was me and not Joseph? Would you have done it?"

  There was no way I could answer that question without angering her, so I said nothing. Instead I gently lifted the veil from her face, cupped my hands around her cheeks, and kissed her.

  The sky brightened with the most brilliant of the fireworks yet, turning night into day for a few seconds. That was all the time it took to see, faint but unmistakable, the outlines of a large bootblack moustache still on Jenny's upper lip. I reached out a finger, touched it gently, then laughed.

  "I scrubbed and scrubbed, but it would nae come off," Jenny said.

  "Now I understand the mysterious veil."

  She was close to tears. "It makes my face so ugly. I hope it will wear off soon."

  "It doesn't matter," I said, and kissed her again, moustache and all.

  The clouds had been gathering, and rain started once more just as the fireworks finished. Jenny and I made our way toward the Frasers' house, moving slowly even though we were both getting wet. Her arm tucked securely under mine, she leaned close as we walked. Rain or no rain, I didn't want the evening to end.

  But the weather had other ideas. The rain increased, pouring out of the sky as if the clouds were emptying themselves of cauldrons of water all at once. We were forced to quicken our steps, running the last few yards. At the Frasers' porch Jenny took off her hat and shook the rain from it. Even though the only light came from a lamp in the front window, I could still see the faint outline of the moustache. She put her hand over it self-consciously. I laughed and gently pushed her hand away. "It's a memento of today," I said. "Of Jo— Of you know who."

  "It's been a grand day, or at least the last part of it has. Although I'll carry the memory of it in my heart—" she smiled at me, and I knew I blushed "—I nae wished to carry a reminder like this on my face!"

  "It will come off. Try rubbing it with lard mixed with fine sand. That mixture removes paint stains from my hands."

  "So you wish me to be scratched raw and greasy-faced as well as moustache-faced, do you?"

  "No, just be Jenny-faced once more."

  "I'll scrub it again tonight, but with some of Mrs. Fraser's cold cream, not with lard and sand. I can nae go out in public in the daylight until this thing is gone."

  "Wear your veil as you did today and no one will notice."

  "Perhaps. Although this hat is nae suitable for summer wear. People will wonder why I chose it instead of a bonnet."

  Silence fell. "Jenny..." I began, then sneezed.

  "You have a long walk home. It's time for you to go."

  "But—" I said, then sneezed again.

  "Be off with you, Ted MacIntosh. Quickly now. You're wet enough already. You'll take a cold if you're not careful."

  "I'm not very wet," I protested.

  Jenny shook her head and reached for the door latch. "You're drenched. Now go home. Perhaps I'll see you tomorrow?"

  "As soon as I can get away from work," I promised, sneezing again. "Good night, Jenny."

  "Good night, Ted. It's been a most enjoyable—nae, a most wonderful—evening."

  "Yes," I said. "Yes, it has been."

  She pushed open the door and went inside. I stood alone on the porch for a moment, then stepped off into the rain and headed home.

  For the first time in years the Richfield road didn't frighten me and I wasn't nervous to be on it in the dark. I didn't walk faster as I usually did when I travelled here alone, sometimes almost running in my eagerness to reach the comfort and safety of home. Tonight I didn't look behind or ahead of me, fearful of what, or whom, I might see.

  Tonight I was scarcely aware I was moving. It seemed as if my feet weren't touching the ground, as if my boots were as light as dancing slippers, not heavy with mud, as if my feet glided inches above the ground. My head was too full of other things to make room for ghosts or murderers or any of the terrors, real and imagined, that had so often followed me along this road. My heart was too light to dwell on dark happenings from the past.

  The rain beat on my back, but I barely felt it. It dripped steadily through the trees, splashing noisily into the wagon ruts, but I hardly heard it. There was music all around me, and when I stopped and listened, wondering who was singing, I was amazed that it was me.

  Fourteen

  When I awoke the next morning, the singing had stopped. So had the rain. Through the open curtains of my bedroom window I saw sunlight. It must be very hot outside, I thought. I was sweating; my sheets were damp and clammy.

  I dressed slowly, and though I wasn't very hungry, I went for breakfast.

  "Did you enjoy the fireworks?" my father asked.

  "Very much," I said, sneezing.

  "You're sick!" my mother said.

  "No," I insisted, but then became aware of an uncomfortable feeling in my throat. "At least I don't think I am."

  "You look unwell," Ma said. "All that fuss yesterday was too much for you. You've taken a cold. Let me feel your forehead. You're feverish!"

  "I'm fine, Ma."

  "You don't look fine. You're pale and there are big circles beneath your eyes. I was never a doctor's apprentice, but I know when my son is ill."

  Pa studied me. "He does look peaked. We don't have much work today. Stay home, son."

  "An excellent idea," Ma said. "After that disgraceful business yesterday, a day's rest will be good for him."

  What did my mother mean by "disgraceful business"? Had Jenny and I been seen? "Ah...I can explain..." I spluttered.

  "Look at the lad," my father said to my mother. "He must be really ill. His face is flaming red." They both stared hard at me.

  "About yesterday, Ma, it was—"
>
  "A most distressing day." My mother shook her head. "Yes, that poor child. Peter was treated so dreadfully by the officials at the races."

  "The race! You mean what happened at the race, not—"

  "I meant the race, though by the way you're blushing there's more you haven't told me. For instance, how you managed to cut the strap of your overalls. You could begin your explaining there."

  "Nae, don't press the lad," my father said firmly. "He was a credit to us yesterday the way he defended Peter."

  My mother's face softened. "It took courage to stand by your friend. I was proud of you, though it was most dismaying for me to watch. I feared that the other racers would run you and your father down. It's a wonder you weren't hurt."

  "It is indeed," my father said.

  From the look he gave me I knew he wasn't just speaking about the race. Although I had told my parents nothing about my encounter with Henri Tremblay and his friends in Chinatown, I realized my father had heard what had happened. "I'm sorry about my overalls," I said.

  "Your mother can mend them for you, son. If not, a pair of overalls is a small price to pay. The cost could have been much greater."

  "I'm sorry," I said, "but I couldn't—"

  "We'll talk later," Pa said. "Now is not the time to discuss it." He glanced at my mother. "I'll go to work and leave your mother to doctor you to her heart's content. I think you've earned a day of rest."

  "Thank you, Pa."

  "But when you're rested, we'll speak," he continued. "There's only a thin line between bravery and stupidity. If you insist on being dangerously brave, there are some manly arts you need to learn so you can defend yourself."

  "What are you talking about?" Ma asked.

  "Nothing," Pa and I answered together.

  "I'll discuss this ‘nothing' with you later, Ian," my mother said sternly to my father. "When a man says ‘nothing,' he usually means there's a great deal of ‘something' going on."

  Neither my father nor I replied. Pa quickly finished his breakfast, kissed Ma, patted me on the shoulder, and left.

  I stirred my spoon in the bowl of porridge. Manly arts? Did Pa wish me to learn to box? Although I had raised my fists and challenged Henri Tremblay yesterday, I knew nothing of fighting and had no desire to learn. Or did he want me to learn how to use a knife? I didn't want to do that, either.

  I would talk to Jenny about Pa's plans, once he told me what they were. Jenny would know what I should do.

  Jenny! I had promised to meet her today. I wanted to see her. I needed to see her. I couldn't stay home.

  "Your face is very red again, Ted." My mother was bearing down on me with a spoon and a green glass bottle.

  "I feel..." I began, but was interrupted by a bout of coughing.

  When I regained my breath, my mother had filled the spoon and was holding it in front of me. "Take some of this. It works well on colds and fevers. You prepared it yourself for me when I was ill while you were apprenticed to Dr. Wilkinson."

  Obediently I opened my mouth and allowed her to dose me with a large spoonful of the thick syrup. I grimaced as I swallowed, wishing I had used more sugar when I blended that particular batch of medicine. "I feel much better," I said. "I think I'll go to work, after all."

  My mother looked hard at me, and I stayed put.

  In truth, much as I wanted to see Jenny I was glad to be at home. My cough grew worse during the day, my face burned hot and red, and the tickle in my throat became a searing pain. I remained in bed, allowed my mother to bring me tea and soup, and meekly swallowed more medicine without complaining.

  The day passed, though I didn't remember much of it. I coughed, dozed, then slept more. I didn't realize it was evening until Pa returned from work and woke me, shaking me gently.

  "Ted? Son, how are you?"

  "I don't know," I said, struggling to push myself upright. "My throat hurts and my head feels peculiar."

  "You've done naught but sleep all day, your mother tells me."

  "Have I? Is the day over?"

  "It is, and it's been full of news."

  "What news?"

  "Judge Crease has arrived. The Assizes begin tomorrow."

  "The trial—at last."

  "Yes. Mr. Mow will have justice after all these months."

  "The trial is tomorrow? I must go to it." Then I lay back down. My head was too heavy to hold up anymore. "I was there at the beginning," I said, thinking again of the smell of blood steaming in the cold November air. "I want to be there at the end."

  "You haven't been called as a witness, but I agree you must attend the trial, even though you're ill." Pa's face was serious. "I've heard it said that you're afraid of Tremblay, which is why you didn't come to work today. They're saying you're cowering at home, too frightened to face the Frenchman."

  "I'm not afraid of him or his friends," I said, struggling to sit up again. "Who says that?"

  "Those who don't believe you were so badly injured in the fight that you're near death and can't stir from your bed."

  "I wasn't injured, and I'm not afraid! I've taken a cold, that's all. You know that, Pa."

  "Aye, but you must be seen in public so that others may know it, too."

  "I will be at the trial," I said with determination.

  "So shall I," my father said.

  "You don't need to go, Pa. There's work to be done in the shop."

  "The work can wait," he said, then was silent for a moment. "Although you haven't told me everything that happened between you and Tremblay, I've heard much about it. If even half of it's true, you were brave but also foolhardy."

  I said nothing. I hadn't thought about being brave, just about Peter being hurt and kneeling on the ground with his head held high.

  "I'm proud of your courage," Pa said, "but I'll come to the trial with you. When a man faces enemies, it's a comfort to have his father by his side."

  "What man?" I asked, bewildered.

  "You, son."

  "Me?"

  "Aye."

  "I told you, I'm not afraid of Mr. Tremblay."

  "Perhaps not. But though you don't realize it yet, he isn't your only enemy. Not any longer."

  "Enemies? How have I made enemies? I've angered no one except Mr. Tremblay and his friends."

  "That may be what you believe, but there are others who feel you shouldn't have championed a Chinese boy, that you lowered yourself when you befriended a Celestial. Many people have come by the shop today and told me I should teach my son his proper place so he doesn't repeat such shameful actions in the future. The chief constable even suggested a trip to the woodshed."

  "A licking?" I was horrified. "He suggested a licking?"

  Pa grinned. "I suppose I should consider it, Ted, for you've been up to a great deal of mischief lately. But you know I've never raised a hand against you, and I wouldn't do so now. However, your actions have been taken more seriously than you realize. Some townsfolk have told me that if I wish to keep their business I must prevent you from making a fool of yourself as you did yesterday."

  I sat up straighter, my weakness forgotten. "Who says I've been making a fool of myself?"

  Pa sighed. "It doesn't matter. But there's been much talk, some very ugly, not just about the Three-Legged Race but also about your fight with the Frenchman and his cronies."

  "They were hurting Peter! What else could I have done?"

  "You did what your heart told you to do, son. You always will."

  "Many white men play cards and gamble with Chinese men. How is it different if I run a race with a Chinese boy? Racing, playing cards—both are only games!"

  "Others see it differently, son."

  "That's not fair."

  "I agree. It isn't fair. I think the gambling is part of the reason the Chinese are so disliked. They're canny card players and often win. Sometimes a great deal of money changes hands, and those who lose it become enraged against all Chinese."

  "But that has nothing to do with Peter racing wit
h me."

  Pa rubbed a hand over his face. I heard the scratch of his callused palm against new whisker growth. "You and I see no difference between a card game and a race, Ted. But others do. I'll be with you at the trial to show all who are there that I believe you've done no wrong."

  "I haven't done anything wrong."

  "Some people perceive it as wrong."

  "Then some people are stupid."

  My father laughed. "I agree. But we can't change the nature of this town, nor of the people in it. They'll talk and they'll have opinions. When that talk and those opinions are against my son, I don't like it, but I can do little about it except stand by his side." He stood, his knees creaking as he did. "Last night's damp makes my bones ache. Now I'll go and explain all, or as much as I dare, about your fight with Tremblay to your mother. That conversation, I've no doubt, will make my head ache, as well."

  "Does she have to know?" I asked.

  "Aye. She's bound to find out when she next goes to town. Your name is on everyone's lips, and some nosy glib gabbit will delight in telling her what you've been up to. It might be wise if you bided your time here for a while, safe in bed and out of your mother's way."

  I had no wish to get up, so I nodded and lay down again when Pa left the room. My head whirled. I thought of the ugly comments I had heard around me at the starting line, of the names Peter had been called, of the blood on his face. Was I wrong to be angered by that? How could anyone not be?

  My parents were talking in the kitchen. Their voices were low, and only once could I make out their words.

  "He's so young, Ian," my mother said.

  "Not so young, not anymore. You can't keep him a babe safe in your arms all his life."

  I think Ma began to cry, but I heard no more. Closing my eyes, I let sleep take me.

  The next morning I awoke, feeling clearheaded and rested, but my throat was still quite sore. Perhaps I had learned more than I had thought when I worked with Dr. Wilkinson, for though I could no longer remember the ingredients of the syrup I had prepared, whatever was in it had eased my cough.

  My father had already left so that he could put in a morning's work before going to the courthouse. But there was no need for me to go until later. The trial wouldn't begin until noon.