by Fred Stenson
What was needed at home was a leader, and Tom realized he had to go home and be that leader.
Ella was annoyed that Tom had brushed off Jeannie’s problem over the phone. The day he had left for Dry Fork was the day of Gerry Traynor’s high school prom. Jeannie’s grad event at the Catholic school had been the Friday before, but Gerry’s school, being much bigger, had more money to spend. There was going to be a popular band all the way from Lethbridge. Jeannie had bought a bright lemon-yellow dress.
The night before Gerry’s prom, Jeannie stayed with her friend Eleanor in town, so she could get to the hairdresser early on Saturday. But Saturday afternoon, Ella got a phone call from her mother. Jeannie had turned up there and wanted Ella to come and get her.
It could only mean that she had decided not to go to Gerry’s prom. Ella had enough to do without making a trip into town, and she tried to get her mother to put Jeannie on the phone. She said Jeannie was in bed and didn’t want to talk. Ella pushed for more information, but all her mother would say was something about hair, and that Ella should come right away.
Ella left Billy with Donna. On the drive in, she felt angry. She thought the problem must be that Jeannie did not like her hair. Ella did not have time for such nonsense.
When she swung into her parents’ driveway, Jeannie was waiting outside. She jumped in the back seat and said they had to stop at Eleanor’s to get her suitcase. When they got there, Jeannie asked Ella to go in. She didn’t want Eleanor or Eleanor’s mom to see her.
Of course, by then, Ella had noticed Jeannie’s hair. Alice had given her an updo, a real tower with ringlets hanging down. The hair was still more or less all right on one side but was all pulled down on the other.
Ella put the suitcase in the trunk and got back behind the wheel. She looked at Jeannie in the rear-view and asked if Gerry had done it, meaning the hair. Jeannie said no. Ella drove them home without pressing for more.
Next day, while Jeannie was having a bath, Ella took Donna aside and asked her if she knew what was going on. The sisters hardly spoke but did share a room; it seemed possible Donna would know. Donna’s guess was that Jeannie and Gerry had broken up. Why else would she cry all night?
Ella phoned the hairdresser and asked how Jeannie had seemed when she was getting her hair done.
“Kind of sad,” said Alice. “Or I guess I should say she got sad. She was happy as a lark when she came.”
“What caused the change?”
“You know she’s in the paper this week, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t know. We don’t get the paper until Tuesday.”
“Front-page story is about the health study at your plant. I showed it to Jeannie while she was in the chair, because she’s quoted. I thought she’d be pleased to be a celebrity, but she got all upset.”
“Did she do anything to wreck her hair?”
“Something happened to her hair?”
“Oh, never mind.” Ella could hear the tub draining.
“I did her hair real pretty.”
“Of course you did, Alice.”
The newspaper article was another mystery. If Jeannie had been interviewed, why would she have kept it secret? Everyone in the house would read the paper eventually. And what could have been so shocking about seeing in print what she’d told a reporter?
After her bath, Jeannie went and sat on the outside porch. She took a magazine with her, but Ella could see through the kitchen window that she never looked at it. She stared across at the mountains and was stone still. She had washed out all trace of the prom hairdo, and her long hair hung wet.
“Are you warm enough?” Ella called out to her.
“Yes.”
Nothing had changed by the time Tom got back from Dry Fork. Ella went to his truck as he was pulling in, so she could talk to him before he saw Jeannie. He was puffed up and right away started to tell her about his adventure. She said with emphasis that he needed to know what was happening here first.
“Something’s up between Jeannie and Gerry, and she’s awfully blue.” Ella quickly said the rest: about the health study article in which their daughter was quoted.
“That’s what they said down at Dry Fork, that the results are out. But why would Jeannie be quoted?”
“Newspaper will come in a couple of days. I guess we’ll find out then.”
On Tuesday, when Ella saw the mail woman’s car stop at their box by the old school, she went to where Jeannie was sunning in the yard and asked her to drive down and get it. Jeannie was soon back and dropped the bundle on the kitchen table.
Ella asked, “Did you look at the newspaper? Someone said you’re in it.”
“I’ve seen it,” Jeannie said, and went back outside.
Ella pulled the newspaper from the pile.
GAS PLANT HEALTH STUDY FINDS NOTHING
Though Alice had told her, it was still a shock to see that: the blunt headline. All that time that the Titrilog had sat in their yard, and it had found “nothing”—even when the gas killed an animal the size of Donna’s steer a hundred yards away. She remembered the two pens bumping off the edge of the Titrilog’s disc. One of the worst days, and because it was so bad it broke the machine there would be nothing in the study results about it. It was a week before someone had come to fix it, and the air had stunk the whole time.
Ella went through the article carefully, then read the part about Jeannie a second time. “Jeannie Ryder, a teenage girl living on a farm close to the Aladdin Hatfield gas plant, said her family had often been sick from the gas fumes. They suffered nosebleeds, headaches, and sore eyes on many occasions. Some of their farm animals had died, supposedly from the gas. Miss Ryder, who was visiting friends in a popular Haultain restaurant, also said that she supposed the plant was progress. The smell was ‘the smell of money.’ ”
There was a small paragraph at the head of the column, set with different print than the rest. It said the piece was a reprint from Edmonton’s newspaper. So that made sense. When the reporter had told Jeannie he was from an Edmonton paper, she might have assumed no one down here would ever see it. That would explain her dismay, once she realized everyone, town and country, would soon read what she had said.
Jeannie was sitting on the porch. Ella stepped outside and perched on the railing beside her. Her daughter’s eyes were full of tears.
“I never said it was the smell of money, Mom. Stupid Gerry said that. Now everybody will think I’m awful.”
“You told the truth about the sickness and the animals,” Ella said.
“That’s what I mean about everybody. The people in town too.”
“So you and Gerry had a fight about it?”
“Bette asked Gerry to bring me to their house so she could see my hair. Bert was on days off and was there too.”
“Had he seen the paper?”
“Oh yeah. He had it on his lap. Bette asked me to sit down and have a lemonade. Then Bert said I was no expert on sickness and pigs. He called us complainers. I got mad and told him we’re just as good as him.”
“I don’t suppose you broke up with Gerry because his father’s mean.”
“I left the house and Gerry came after me. He tried to smooth it over. Said his father’d had some drinks and he’d forget about it in a day or two. He said his dad was mad because he’d been the one who recommended the reporter talk to me at Mah’s. He thought I wouldn’t talk like that about the plant, that I’d have more sense and be loyal. That’s when I blew up.”
Jeannie laughed, and Ella knew the rest. She pictured her daughter sticking a hand into her tower of hair, yanking it down. She got up and hugged Jeannie around the shoulders.
Ella noticed there was an opened envelope on Jeannie’s lap.
“What’s that?”
Jeannie fished a page out and handed it to Ella. It was a letter from Notre Dame University, in Nelson. They had accepted her into their teaching program.
“You didn’t tell me you’d applied.”
“I didn’t want to tell you until I was sure. I guess there’s nothing stopping me now.”
“Quite a mail day,” said Ella.
“Did you see the one for you?”
“What?”
“In the mail. There’s a letter for you.”
Ella went back to the kitchen and brushed through the envelopes. It was the strangest thing to see her name, just hers, printed on a letter. She picked it open and a blush rose to her face.
Dear Ella,
I’m sorry that I left suddenly with no goodbye. The friend I shared a house with, Andy Flannery, was killed by gas. Maybe you heard this from Alf Dietz. I don’t suppose it was in the paper. I had a difference of opinion with Dietz and then the company over Andy’s death and how the plant was operating. I went to Calgary that day and resigned.
I’m at another sour gas plant now. The gas that comes into this plant is about the same as at Aladdin Hatfield but everything else is different. This place is like a laboratory and our goal is to get as close to 100% recovery of sulphur as we can. The scientist in charge thinks 100% is possible, and that would mean there would be no hydrogen sulphide or sulphur dioxide going into the atmosphere at all. If we can achieve that, and the government makes it the rule for all sour gas plants, that would be the end of problems like yours.
I didn’t write this to gloat about landing on my feet. I wanted to apologize that I was unable to improve the situation that you are living with. I keep in touch with two men at your plant, and they tell me that there have been some positive changes. The burning pit that was a big source of hydrogen sulphide should be retired by now. The hydrogen cracking in the steel is better controlled. But your plant has a long way to go to be safe. I’m not convinced the company is determined to solve things.
I hope you and your family are well. If you feel like writing to me, I will always be happy to hear from you.
Your friend,
Lance
Ella blushed again at how the letter ended. Before she had any chance to think about what this meant to her, she heard a sound at the window and, looking up, saw Jeannie’s face on the other side of the screen. For the first time since coming home, Jeannie was grinning.
“Who’s it from?” she asked.
“Lance Evert. Do you remember him?”
“Of course. The engineer before Gerry’s dad. He used to come here for coffee.”
“He’s at another plant now. He wanted to tell us how much better it is there.”
Jeannie still looked amused.
Ella pushed the letter into the envelope. “I’ll show it to your dad tonight,” she said, realizing that now she must.
Once in a blue moon, Tom would come back to the house after a day of work and feel that everything had changed in his absence. This was such a night.
He had spent the day in the hayfields trying to decide what to cut first. As soon as he sat down to supper, Jeannie told him she was going to B.C. for university, to Nelson, a town in the West Kootenays. She also showed him the Haultain Herald delivered that day, with the front-page story about the health study—the one Ella had told him about. Jeannie said she was quoted incorrectly; she had not said anything about progress or the smell of money. Gerry, the ex-boyfriend, had said those things.
As he ate his dinner, Tom found himself looking at Donna, expecting some bombshell from her too, but Donna was where she always was these days: a place far away. The next piece of unexpected news came from Ella. She went out of the room and returned with a letter. She set the page on the table beside his plate, smoothed it, and put the envelope, addressed to her, beside it. She stood and waited for him to read it.
Though short, the letter managed to say several important things. Ella’s showing it to him said still more. He read it twice. Dear Ella. Your friend, Lance. Lance would be happy if she wrote back. Tom made himself concentrate on the gas plant information. By doing that, he came up with something to say.
“The burning pit is still going.”
“Maybe he means it’s going to stop but hasn’t yet,” Ella answered.
“I have trouble believing there will be plants with nothing coming out but hot air.”
“They might get closer, though.”
“I suppose.”
He did not know what to say beyond this. He glanced at Ella to see if she was going to speak, and it seemed not. She was just showing the letter and showing herself showing it. Only Jeannie paid attention. The other two were straining to get away.
“You can go, you two,” Tom said to Billy and Donna. They did so quickly.
“Are you going to answer the letter, Mom?” Jeannie asked, and a flicker of heat passed across Ella’s face.
“No,” she said. “Your father can if he likes.”
Tom felt heat rising in him as well, and he decided it was rude to carry on about this letter when there was Jeannie’s news to talk about. He had only glanced at the newspaper piece but now he read it closely. When she guessed he was reading the smell of money part, Jeannie said again that it was Gerry who’d said that.
Tom laughed.
“What’s funny?” she asked.
“It’s the smell of money for us too. The smell of money leaving.”
Jeannie laughed with him. Ella was still standing and had not picked up the letter.
“You going to take your letter?” he asked her.
“It’s not mine. You can do with it what you like.”
After a slice of silence, Ella went to the sink and ran water.
“I’ll put it in the binder,” he said to her back, then folded it and shoved it in its envelope. He pushed his chair back and reached for his tobacco can.
“Nelson,” he said. “That’s not too far away.”
“That’s what I was thinking,” Jeannie said, and he was struck by how completely he had her attention in this moment.
“I don’t think I knew you wanted to be a schoolteacher. Was that me not listening?”
“I didn’t know for a while either. Gerry wanted me to go where he’s going. He wants to be an engineer and applied to Calgary and Edmonton.”
“Is it over, then? With him?”
“It’s over. That article was just the final …”
“Straw.”
“Straw. I won’t marry someone who pushes me around. It makes you feel small all the time.”
“I’m glad you decided what you did, then.”
They talked about money. Jeannie had looked into student loans and thought she would live in residence. The amount was considerable, but Tom figured he and Ella could dig that much out of their savings and make it up again. Suddenly, he was thinking of Jeannie in the world: a tall girl with lots of energy. Pretty. He liked the idea of her in a residence, living with a bunch of young people. She made friends easily. If she lived alone, she would get lonesome and have another serious boyfriend too soon. This way, she might have some not too serious ones first, get to know better what she liked. He was amazed at how many thoughts he had on this subject now that it had arisen and his opinion was asked for.
Ella still had her back to them washing the dishes. Maybe you shouldn’t try to read someone by their back, but he thought hers looked put out. Jeannie suddenly said, “Mom! You should have waited. I would have helped you.”
“That’s okay. You’re having a good talk with your dad.”
He doubted Ella felt that, but it was respectful to say it, in the way that the letter was not respectful. While he talked with Jeannie, he could not help but think of the hundred per cent business, one hundred per cent recovery of sulphur. What was possible would be important if it came to a lawsuit. If the company was doing less than it could, that reflected on both Aladdin and the government: one for not trying and the other for not insisting.
Jeannie helped put dishes away, wiped down the counter. Tom went and put the letter in the binder. Dear Ella. Your friend, Lance. Jeannie going off to become a teacher. He could not think clearly. He was like a magpie jumping f
rom branch to branch.
A few nights later, over supper, Tom said he didn’t know how he was going to get the haying done without a hired man. Jeannie said she would do the raking. Donna said she would run the mower. Ella said she and Billy would help on the stack.
It happened exactly that way. They did every bit of haying themselves. In the hottest part of each afternoon, the kids went for a swim. They jumped into the old pickup and Jeannie drove them to the swimming hole on the Callaghan. Billy complained at first about sharp rocks in the river, so Ella cut the toes out of an old pair of runners.
By the time Ella and Jeannie were packing her boxes for Nelson, the kids were friends in a way they had never been before. Ella could not stop herself from crying when they had Jeannie’s boxes and suitcases in the car. Donna and Billy were close to tears as well. Jeannie told them all to cheer up.
“B.C.’s not the end of the world, you know.”
Billy, who’d been practising his sarcasm, said, “Not quite,” and was rewarded with a cuff on the head.
6
Waddens Lake
A KNOCK CAME on the office door. Clayton entered. “Marion, Huge, and me were wondering if you’d come to The Pit for a beer tonight.”
Clayton had his chest stuck out and his bottom lip pushed over the top one. The suggested group was strange. Bill was never asked for drinks unless Henry Shields was involved. Henry would be working tomorrow so would not be drinking tonight. As for Marion, she was never invited to The Pit if Clayton was going, as Clayton disapproved of drinking with women. He preferred them naked and wrapped around a pole.
“You want to talk to me about something. And that something would be Dennis.”
Clayton’s brass neck fell loose. Bill enjoyed the response.
“We’re really pissed about him,” Clayton said.
“I know that. And what are you wanting me to do?”
“Fire him.”
“First off, I won’t be coming to The Pit. That’s not the place to discuss Dennis. I’ll discuss him with you right now.”
