He bursts into tears.
#
A couple of days later, Brewster dashes into his silent house to grab the ringing house phone. “Greetings,” he says, slightly out of breath.
“Hello, Brewster,” says Holly, barely audible. “I’d love to be part of your project, really, but I just …”
The blaring toot-toot of a car horn takes him to the street window. It’s not for him; a skateboarder crossing in front of a pickup makes a fist at the driver and rolls on to the sidewalk. Crazy people. “Holly? Holly? You still there?” he says.
“Hi, Brewster. Wendell here. Sorry about Holly’s call—she’s kinda beside herself right now. Not so good a report today about Lily, and yesterday … Well, it looks like I’ll be saying goodbye to my leg after all. They’re scheduling surgery time.”
“Wendell, thanks for calling. I just don’t know what to say. Want me to come over?”
“It’s okay, Brewster. We’ll get through this, I know.”
Brewster asks if it is okay to talk. “I want to bounce an idea off you. I’d like to send our techie over and put a new computer into your house for Holly to use. It’s a new iMac with all Holly’s preferred software that she talked about the other night. He can bring it in when Holly is not home. Maybe a surprise for her.”
“Sounds like a bold plan, but you don’t have to do this, you know.”
“I understand. But listen, it’s a way for a bit more independence. I’ll pay Holly her going rate, and when the book is done, I’m sure it will lead to more work. That way she can be home for you and Lily. We need a designer for the book, so it might as well be Holly.” He pauses. “And what if we get someone in to help with the daily chores? You know, ease the load a bit?”
Brewster encourages Wendell to think about it. “There’s no need for an immediate answer. Just work it through and call me back. The more I think about it, Wendell, the more I’m satisfied that this is an answer to our prayers, that God brought us together. I was at a prayer get-together with some friends the other night, and everyone agreed this is not some random thing.”
They’re about to hang up when Brewster adds, “I’ve spent the past 15 months or so governed by my own out-of-control emotions. It’s not the way I want to live.”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Hello Clotilde,
You’ll be amazed at what is happening with our book. Holly is making solid and exciting progress on the layout and design. We met yesterday with the park team as well, and Holly reviewed her progress. The attached is a review for you, so let me know any concerns or suggestions you might have. I’d like us to add a dedication page and want you to send me your ideas.
As for the family, Lily has stabilized, which is really good news. Wendell likes—if that’s the right word here—having lost his leg. He’s looking forward to the time that his stump heals and he gets a prosthetic so he can walk. He’s already tried standing on the other leg and moving round with crutches.
With Lily’s steady improvement I wonder if you’d like to send her a note or something from you. She hasn’t had any day outings for a while now, and she keeps asking when you’re coming back because she wants to draw flowers like you. Perhaps a sketchbook and pencils, and a wee note on how you started drawing, or even how you begin working on flowers. She has lots of fresh flowers in her hospital room. It’s just a thought.
She was so thrilled the other night when I went up for a visit to give her the photograph I took of the day you two met. It’s a lovely shot (I’ve attached it) of you sitting and drawing the striped coralroot on the plaid blanket, with Bebo beside you. Lily is standing beside you, watching, with her arm resting on your shoulder. I took it as Holly and I walked along the path toward you, and I noticed how the sun was lighting this little scene amongst the spruce trees. The picture I took of her kneeling in the grass sniffing a gaillardia is a beauty too.
Hannah told me all about her visit to Cheticamp and how much she enjoyed the tour up the Cabot Trail. She says she’s heading your way again for Labour Day weekend and your family get-together. She says being with you all helps her French before her Europe trip.
Let me know your thoughts on the draft layout and design. I think you should plan on being out here when we review the printer’s proof and do our final liaison with the park. At that time, the park wants to talk about the book launch. Gaillardia Press will arrange your bookings nearer the time.
I look forward to your email. I miss your laughter and your smile.
Brewster
Attach two pictures. Click. Send. He sits back in his chair, rolls his neck, and chews over the conflict of his faithfulness to Melanie and his deepening fondness for Clotilde.
Jane wheels in at the right moment to interrupt with some tenant files. She says Joel would like to drop in.
“Now’s good, whenever,” he says. This is crunch point with the future of his building. Joel wants an answer for the prospective buyers. “Where are we at, Joel?” he says as his friend slumps on to the leather couch by the window. “Is this the time?”
“I think so,” Joel says. “They’ve upped their price three times now, so we either do or don’t. I say we do. They’ve agreed to keep me here running the place for up to five years. Their plans to move into the building will not happen right away. They’ve accepted our submission on behalf of the tenants too.”
Brewster looks out the window and gives a silent prayer. “What’ll we do next?” he says.
“Ha! I don’t think that’s a worry. We have plenty on the go, and I’m sure you will have something new come along sooner or later.”
“You’re right. Has that landscaper fellow cleaned up his lot and paid his lease?”
“All fixed up. Devi went over, helped him through and got him on the right track. The city won’t bother him again, and we’ve helped put his accounts and invoicing in order. They’re an excellent couple in a new, flourishing enterprise. They just got lost in their work and forgot the business side of things. We did that at no charge or penalty, so I think they’ll keep their accounting with me.”
“I like your style, Mr. Joel,” Brewster says with a smile.
An hour later, Brewster is out for some quiet, mid-afternoon exercise. He figured on a slow jog, but a few muscles screamed at him about that. He hasn’t been near this pathway for some weeks. Start slow and warm up. There are small sailboats out on the water, the aspens are golden and leaves crunch underfoot—a beautiful, fresh afternoon. Wild blue flax wave their blooms, partially protected by the higher grasses. Late, he figures. A double crop this season. And the pale blue flower only lasts a day.
He dismisses the sudden urge to pick up a meal-to-go at the supermarket on his way home and opts for a home-cooked meal of whatever he can find. Melanie’s mystery freezer still yields surprises, and tonight it’s a lamb chop, which he grills and lines up with boiled potatoes and a salad he’s still reaping from last week’s head lettuce.
The day has been profitable, and as he eats, his iPad dings.
Brewster,
C’est merveilleux. Holly is doing a wonderful job with our book. I love how she’s combined all the elements just as we first envisaged. Can we have a dedication to both Melanie and Helene—you know, for their inspiration and initiative? Maybe Holly can word that for us.
I’d love to come out with Hannah to see the printer’s proofs.
C
P.S., I miss you and your energy.
The message is more satisfying than the meal, and he finds himself eager to have the proofs done so he gets to see her again. He’ll practice his sign language in front of the mirror tonight. He’s six weeks into the 10-week course, and he wants to build his vocabulary. She’ll be surprised.
Five-letter word for twig junctures. He enjoys the newspaper crossword: simple and quick. Nodes, he prints into the squares. Hunt and peck? Mmm, only four let
ters. Of course—my style at the keyboard: type. Canal and lake? Erie.
He gets a phone call. “Hello, Joel. Not usual for you to call at night. What’s up?”
“Well, it’s Anna’s insistence, because you said you’re heading over to see Holly in the morning. One of the townhouses BAM owns in the southwest is up for rent. The tenants have done a run. Devi and Brian were over there this afternoon. We’ve got a bit of a cleanup to do, but we thought Holly and Wendell might like to move in.”
Brewster thinks for a bit. “Not a bad idea, but my mind goes to the extreme. I’d love them to have it. I’ve even thought of buying them a place, but I’m a bit cautious about overpowering them. They’re a very humble and private couple.”
“That occurred to us too,” Joel says. “I thought we’d rent it to them for what they’re paying now. Sure, that’s less than market value, but they need a break. Paying the rent helps them to maintain their benefits while Wendell heals. I hear he figures on going back to his work as a service tech at his old firm.”
“That’s his plan, all right. Not sure how long it takes to be fully mobile with a prosthetic, but he’s a fighter. I’ll raise it in a general sense and see what the reaction is.”
The following day he pulls into the driveway of the sad looking house. Holly opens the door just as he’s about to knock. “You’re late,” she says. “It’s two minutes past 10:00 and you said you’d be here at 10:00.”
They laugh. This is the happiest he’s seen her in a few weeks. Before he has time to get through the door and make a comment, she blurts out, “Lily’s new tests are good. Her oncologist reviewed them with us last night. He cautioned us not to get our hopes up too high, but he conceded that things are looking good—really good.”
Brewster closes the door and gives her a hug as loud language erupts from the lounge area.
“Don’t mind him,” Holly says. “Wendell figures he’s training for a triathlon, so his ego gets a bit bruised when he falls over. I’ve told him he’s going too fast and too soon, but he insists. I must say, he’s doing really well.”
Brewster tells them about his visit with Lily at the weekend and the picture poster he’d made for her of the striped coralroot she’d found. He’d added an owl into the tree and had a Tigger looking out from the undergrowth.
“Oh, she loves that picture,” Wendell says, demonstrating how good he is at standing on one leg. “We put it in a picture frame last night. Her nurses love it and wanted to know all about it. Our little girl can tell an amazing story.”
Holly closes off their book discussion with the comment that she figures about one to two more weeks at her current rate of progress. Then it will be in shape to go to the printer.
“One other thing I have for you,” Brewster says. He outlines Joel and Anna’s suggestion they move to the single-level, ground-floor townhouse his company owns in the southwest. “Same rental payments as you have here,” he says. “It’s a really nice place, but the tenants we had didn’t look after it, and it needs a bit of a cleanup. Our building guys are looking after that now. What do you say?”
Holly and Wendell look at each other. “This can’t be true,” they say. “A new house?” Holly squeezes Wendell’s hand. “Yes,” she says. “I can’t stay here much longer. Anything would be better than this place. We actually had a break-in the other night, when we were at the hospital. We surprised them when we came home. Fortunately, they didn’t get the computer because I always put it in the closet when we go out. The police came but couldn’t do much.”
“Sad to hear about that,” Brewster says. “I think you’ll like the new place. Quiet street, and not that far from the park. We’ll draw up a contract, but don’t worry, there’s no money required. It will be for your protection as well as ours. Our building folks will look after your moving.”
Holly recaps the book progress, and they agreed it could be three, maybe four weeks to get a printer’s proof. She asks if Clotilde should come out to review the proofs.
Wendell chips in and gets a dig in the ribs from his wife when he says, “We’re not sure if it’s just the proofs you’d like to see her out here for.”
They have a good laugh at Wendell’s wry humour as they walk to the front door. Brewster turns, gives each of them a hug and steps out.
“My car,” he says. “My car—it’s gone! In broad daylight, too.”
Chapter Thirty-Seven
The cyclist sits astride his mountain bike, one foot on the armrest of the park bench. He drinks from a tube to the water bag on his back. His wheels are thick with mud, his shoes and legs are splattered, and there are flecks on his face and arms. Brewster grins at the sight. “Looks like you’ve been having a bit of fun off trail.”
“Yeah,” the cyclist laughs. “Big bog in there.” He screws around on his seat to point down the trail. “I came around this sharp corner, heading downhill a bit, and there it was. Wham, I hit it hard. Thought I was going to come off face first, but I managed to find a bit of traction and pedalled out. Powerful, man.”
He pedals off down another semi-concealed trail, and Brewster wipes the mud from Melanie’s bench. He sits at the opposite end to enjoy the late afternoon sun. A young jogger paces past, her ponytail flipping side to side through the gap in the back of her ball cap. She skirts to one side to allow room for three women and their strollers to move past on the paved path.
This park is always busy, he thinks. The shadows slink ever closer to his feet, stretched out into the grassy patch. He grins at the blue aster at the edge facing into the sun—the park’s late bloomer. This has been quite the summer, and this seat started a startling sequence of events. My life continues to change.
He looks at his phone. “Hello, Holly. I’m down in the park, at Melanie’s bench. It’s a great spot at this time of the day.”
“We’re all moved into the new place,” she says. “We can’t believe how nice it is. It’s such a marvellous change from where we were.” There’s a short pause. “Lily is over the moon. She got a surprise package of art materials and a nice letter from Clotilde today. It made her day. We haven’t seen her so happy for some time.” Another pause. “Clotilde also had a note in there as to how she started her drawing.”
Emotion moves through the air, and Brewster jumps in. “It’s a nice place, and I always liked how it is situated to the sun throughout the day. Glad you like it. It’ll be great for your budding artist when she comes home.” He immediately regrets making this comment, in case …
Holly says, “I have a meeting with the printer in the morning so I’ll update you with the progress then. I just had to tell you how grateful we are for this house. It takes away a huge worry and gives Wendell time to get healthy. Almost forgot—my final thought for today. Clotilde told Lily that she misses us all.”
He sighs and pockets his phone. “Well, Melanie, what do you think? It’s all happening, and your dream of a book of the park’s wildflowers is entering the home stretch.”
The late afternoon solitude is broken with the dings of his cellphone. “Brewster?” It’s Claire. Heath’s got the barbecue bug. You’d better come over and taste some of his outdoor cuisine.”
An hour later, he’s sitting on the Rhodes’ patio, knowing that one of the best things about the barbecue will be dessert. Claire’s contribution to the evening feast tonight is key lime pie.
“Superb,” he says. “You two certainly know how to make that barbecue hum! Melanie wouldn’t let me near ours after the time I burned my nose and singed my eyebrows.”
Their conversation is wide-ranging, from Brewster’s day in the park to progress on 100 Wildflowers and the likelihood that Clotilde and Hannah will be out to review the proofs.
“How is Clotilde liking it in Cape Breton?” Claire asks. “She’s in Cheticamp, I remember you saying. We had lunch there when we toured the Cabot Trail—10 years ago, was it, Heath?”
>
Brewster tells them about the email he received a few days prior from Clotilde. “I get the feeling she’s rethinking her decision to move there. She wrote about how she spends hours sitting in an historic and very beautiful church, thinking. Says her extended family is very supportive, but she finds the place too far away. She’s not found a way to be involved with anything.”
“It’ll be interesting to hear what she has to say when she gets back here,” Claire says. “And Hannah’s coming too?”
“There’s a growing friendship between them, and they reminisce a lot about Calgary. Hannah’s been up to Cheticamp, and Clotilde toured her round that Acadian region.”
Heath looks at Brewster. “You really like her, don’t you?”
“Mr. Rhodes, that is none of your business,” Claire says. “Leave the man alone.”
“Well, you said it the other day,” Heath says, looking at her. “Besides, what’s wrong with saying it? Brewster?”
“Not sure what’s going on here, but it seems everybody wants to know the answer to the same question. First, Joel’s giving me Anna’s opinion, then Irene and now you two. Clotilde and I have merely worked on a project together. We’ve had our ups and downs, and we’re pleased to see our efforts coming together. End of story.”
“Yeah, yeah, buddy,” Heath says. “But still—you have a tender spot for her. She’s a looker too.”
Claire scolds, “Heath Rhodes, you stop that at once, or I’ll be thinking it’s you who has a thing for her.” She turns to Brewster. “Anyway, if you like her, tell her and don’t let her get away. You can’t spend your life alone. You’re just not built that way.”
Brewster is puzzled as he drives home. Both Irene and Claire used almost the same words to him: “Can’t spend your life alone. You’re not built that way.” Is this women’s intuition?
That night he decides to write another letter.
My Dearest Melanie,
I said my last letter would be the last, but it just cannot be. Not yet, my sweet Melanie. This ache and longing lies deep inside. I’ve been living in this confused state of my faithfulness to you and a desire to not be alone anymore. I’ve got to stop hanging on to the bitterness of you being yanked out of my life. I feel guilty every time I’m with Clotilde, yet I look at her and have the same experience with the same feelings I had when you and I first met. I remember too how you blew up one day and said we would not get married if I kept drinking. Yet we did get married, and I continued drinking until the blackouts started, when I couldn’t remember where I’d been or how I’d made it home. Then I realized God had a call on my life, and I quit cold turkey. Your love and the love of Christ prevailed and brought me to my senses. I owe you my life and what we built together, and yet you are no longer in it.
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