The Whole Truth

by Kit Pearson

  He turned to Polly and enveloped her in a crushing hug. Then he smacked her forehead with a kiss, muttered that he had to be home for dinner, and hurried away.

  Polly sat for so long on the log that she was late for dinner herself. She didn’t know which was more thrilling: the whales or Chester’s kiss.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  THE TRUTH

  Gregor and Sadie’s wedding preparations began to absorb the family like a giant sponge; there was nothing else to do or talk about. Despite her parents’ objections, Sadie had insisted on getting married on the island. “It’s such a beautiful little church, and I want your father to marry us there,” she’d told Gregor.

  Aunt Jean was thrilled, of course. Polly didn’t think her aunt could ever be busier than she usually was, but now she whizzed around like a hummingbird, arranging food and flowers and wedding outfits, and cleaning the church until it sparkled.

  “Jean, you’re going to wear yourself out so much you won’t be able to enjoy the wedding!” Noni told her.

  “How about a game of Bezique?” Uncle Rand suggested each evening, but Aunt Jean and Noni had too many lists to make. He and Polly played Cribbage instead.

  Sadie and her family and friends were coming to the island a few days before the wedding; they would all stay in the hotel. Gregor wanted to go and visit Sadie, but his mother wouldn’t let him. “Let her have a last summer with her family,” she told him.

  Instead Gregor telephoned Sadie so often that his parents told him it was too expensive. Then he wrote daily letters. He constantly had a dazed grin on his face, as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune.

  At the end of July, Noni took Polly and Maud to Victoria to buy clothes: Maud for university and Polly for school.

  How ugly her uniform was compared with the pretty skirts and blouses that Maud was trying on! The heavy wool tunic itched and the stiff white blouse rasped her skin.

  “I can’t move!” Polly complained, after the saleswoman had helped her into the thick blazer. She clomped around the dressing room in her heavy shoes, holding her arms out stiffly.

  Noni laughed. “You’ll get used to it, hen. And you look very nice.”

  Polly knew she didn’t: she looked like a maroon-and-grey pudding. She was indifferent as Noni picked out the rest of the required clothing. What a waste it was, buying all these things when she’d be back on the island next year! But she couldn’t tell Noni that; she didn’t know about her bargain with Miss Guppy.

  Polly cheered up as Noni took her and Maud to the dressmaker to pick up their wedding outfits; Polly was to be a bridesmaid and Maud the maid of honour. Noni had sent their measurements, but this was the first time they had tried on their dresses. They were shimmering blue silk, so long that they trailed behind with a satisfying swish. The dressmaker had made small silk hats to match. Polly had never had such grown-up clothes!

  “I’m going to take your dresses straight over to the rectory to show Jean,” said Noni as they walked to the house from the wharf. “You girls can go in and unpack.”

  Polly laughed as Tarka rushed out from the kitchen and leapt into her arms. Then she saw an envelope with Daddy’s familiar writing lying on the hall table.

  She hadn’t had a letter from Daddy all summer. Usually he wrote just as regularly as she did, but the last time she had heard from him was in June. “I’m not going to be able to write to you for a while, Doodle,” he had told her, after he’d congratulated her on graduating. “I have some business I have to take care of, but I promise I’ll be back in touch as soon as I can.”

  What business? Polly had wondered. Then the summer had kept her so busy that she’d forgotten to worry.

  She snatched up the letter—but it was addressed to Maud, not to her!

  “Maud, here’s a letter for you from Daddy,” she said, trying to conceal her hurt.

  “That’s strange,” said Maud, slowly taking the letter. “He knows I don’t want him to write to me.”

  “Open it!”

  “I’ll read it in private. If it’s addressed only to me, he must want only me to read it.”

  Maud took the letter to her room. Polly waited as long as she could bear, then went upstairs and hesitated outside Maud’s closed door. She listened hard. Could Maud be crying?

  “Maud?” Polly opened the door. “Are you all right? What did Daddy say?”

  “Oh, Doodle …” Maud was a mess of tears, with a red, dripping nose. Polly got her a hankie from her drawer and sat down beside her. “What’s wrong, Maud?”

  Maud mopped her face and blew her nose. “Poll, Daddy wants me to tell you something. You can read his letter, but he wants me to prepare you for it first.”

  Polly sat down, her legs turned to jelly. “What is it? Is Daddy all right? Is he sick?”

  “He’s fine. Now listen carefully, Doodle. This is going to be very hard for you.” Maud took both of Polly’s hands. “Daddy has confessed, Polly.”

  “What do you mean?’

  “Exactly what I said. He’s finally confessed that he stole the money.”

  “No! No, Maud, he couldn’t have!”

  “He did, Poll. Let me explain. As soon as Daddy got to work that morning, Mr. Spicer gave him his last pay because he had to go somewhere for the rest of the day. While Daddy was standing in his office, he noticed that Mr. Spicer only moved the dial a little bit when he closed the safe. Daddy always stayed inside at lunchtime to read. He slipped into the office, opened the safe, and took out all the money he could grab—about a hundred dollars, he says. He put it in his pocket and went back to his book. He didn’t think anyone would notice until the next day, but Mr. Rayburn, the boss, opened the safe after lunch. You know the rest. They found the money in Daddy’s pocket.”

  “No, no, no …” moaned Polly. “It can’t be true!”

  “Read the letter if you don’t believe me,” said Maud. She handed Polly the first page.

  Polly’s hands were shaking so much she could hardly hold the paper. “This is the hardest letter I have ever written, but I must now tell you the truth …” Daddy began. He talked about stealing the money just as Maud said, but went into much more detail. “I struggled with my conscience all morning, but all I could think of was how much I could do for my girls with all that money. I wasn’t thinking clearly—it was as if someone else did it. I still can’t believe I was so stupid and so wrong! Ever since I visited you I’ve tried to think of how I could make things right. Finally I resolved to tell you the truth, even though I hate you to know that your father is a thief. Then I—”

  Maud was holding many more pages. “Maud, just tell me the rest,” Polly said weakly.

  Maud spoke fast. “Daddy says he hitchhiked to Winnipeg in June and went to the police station and confessed. They were so shocked to find out he was alive! He appeared before a judge, and because he pleaded guilty and because he stole the money to feed his family, the judge told him he would give him a suspended sentence.”

  “What does that mean?” whispered Polly.

  “It means that Daddy should go to jail, but if he doesn’t commit any crimes for six months, he won’t and he’ll be free. He has to stay in Winnipeg until the end of the year so they know where he is.”

  They sat together in silence. Polly felt as unreal as she had on the train coming to the island. “I still can’t believe it,” she said dully. “You did, though.”

  “I think I always suspected Daddy had taken the money. At first I didn’t want to, but the more I thought about it, the more his story didn’t make sense. How could Mr. Spicer have put the money in his pocket? He had already left before lunch. Daddy just told me that crazy story in desperation—he wasn’t thinking. And he was desperate. He did it to help us. That doesn’t make it right, but I understand why he did it.”

  “You’re not being as hard on him as you were before,” said Polly.

  Maud flushed. “No … because he’s finally told us the truth! I hated it that he lied. And he did it
in such an underhanded way. After that first letter he wrote me, he never said he didn’t take the money. He lied by omission, but that’s just as much of a lie.”

  That was why Polly felt as if Daddy had slapped her. It was wrong that he had stolen something, but it seemed far more wrong that he had lied.

  “Will you forgive him now?” she whispered.

  “I’m happy to forgive him! I’ve been praying and praying that Daddy would come clean, and now he has! He’s like the prodigal son. He committed a sin, but now he’s repented. I’m really proud of him, Poll. It must have taken a lot of courage to go to that police station. He could have gone on like he had before, but he didn’t. And he did it for us, remember. Oh, Doodle, I feel as if a huge weight has rolled off me, don’t you?”

  Polly shook her head. “I don’t feel happy at all. I feel kind of … frozen.”

  Maud hugged her. “That’s because you’ve been so loyal. It’s going to take some time to get used to this, but I know you’ll come round. And just think, Poll, after Daddy’s allowed to leave Winnipeg he can come and see us again!”

  “He can?”

  “Of course! He’ll be free! There’s no way Noni can stop him, no matter what she thinks of him. He’s given us his address in Winnipeg. I’m going to write to him right now and tell him how proud I am. You write too, Doodle.”

  Polly couldn’t imagine what she would say. “Maud, are we going to tell Noni?”

  “Sure we are! Daddy is afraid it’s going to get into the papers—after all, it’s not every day that someone who is presumed drowned walks into a police station! So we should tell the family before they hear about it.”

  Polly wanted to melt into a puddle. “You go and tell them, Maud. I’m going to lie down.”

  She retreated to her bed for the rest of the day. Tarka pressed into the crook of her knees, as if he was as miserable as she was. Maud kept checking on her and offering her food, but Polly couldn’t eat.

  That evening, Noni sat on her bed stroking her hair. “Poor wee bairn,” she said. “Maud has told me everything. This must be a terrible shock to you, hen. You’ve been so loyal to your father, and now you’ve found out he was wrong after all.”

  Polly wanted to hide under the covers as if she were a little child. All she could do was keep her face turned away. How stupid she felt! How humiliated! The grown-ups had been right all along. Her father, whom she had always thought was good, was a thief and a liar.

  “It was brave of Daniel to confess,” said Noni, “and I’m glad for you both that he’ll be a free man. He’s very lucky the judge was so lenient—he could have gone to jail for a long time.” Then she added awkwardly, “Maud has asked if your father can visit and I’ve given my permission. I don’t know if Daniel and I will ever see eye to eye, but it’s not fair of me to keep him from you.”

  Everything Noni was saying just made things worse. Polly didn’t want to see Daddy! She wanted to disown him, just as Maud had once wanted to.

  “You’re too upset to talk, aren’t you … would you like me to bring you some soup?” When Polly shook her head, Noni kissed her gently and left the room.

  Polly’s peaceful summer had exploded. She spent August trying to pretend she was as happy as Maud. To her relief, after the rest of the family had told her how glad they were that Daniel had confessed, the wedding plans again preoccupied the household.

  Polly received a long, loving letter from Daddy. She could hardly bear to read it. “I know you are probably upset with your old dad, Doodle, but I hope you will forgive him,” he ended.

  She wrote back a curt note saying that she was glad he had confessed and would be free. She couldn’t ask Daddy the questions that buzzed in her head. Why did he do such a stupid thing? Why didn’t he stay and confess instead of running away and abandoning them? He would have gone to jail, but at least they would have known where he was. He didn’t need to act like someone in a movie and pretend he had drowned. He’d been thinking more about himself than his daughters!

  Worst of all, Daddy had lied to them. Polly couldn’t say in the letter that she had forgiven him. That would make her a liar.

  She took off her heart necklace and put it in her drawer. It stabbed her to notice that Maud had now started wearing hers.

  “Let’s just hope the news stays in Manitoba,” Noni kept saying.

  A Vancouver paper picked up the story, however, and then it reached the island. Everywhere Polly went, people either stared rudely or told her haltingly how glad they were that her father was alive.

  “I can’t go anywhere without someone commenting on it,” complained Aunt Jean. “Mildred Cunningham kept me for half an hour in the store just now, pumping me for more information. I don’t have time to deal with this—I have a wedding to plan!”

  “Jean, it’s not the girls’ fault that the news became public,” said Noni. “I’m so sorry this had to happen, hens. Never mind, it will soon die down like any other gossip. Just smile and try to change the subject.”

  No one who talked to Polly was brave enough to say anything about Daddy’s crime—except for Vivien. “Why didn’t you tell us he was accused of stealing?” she demanded.

  “He didn’t want us to,” said Polly stiffly.

  “Never mind, Polly,” said Biddy. “Mother says he’s paid his price by confessing and facing the music. I don’t think it matters that he stole the money—he did it for you! Oh, Polly, I’m so glad we don’t have to keep it a secret any more that your father is alive! It was really hard sometimes!”

  “But we never told anyone,” Vivien assured her. “We had a pact. Whenever one of us was tempted to say anything we’d tell each other first.”

  “Thank you for that,” said Polly. “It was a lot to ask of you. Thank you for being so loyal.”

  “Polly!”

  Polly turned around. She was sitting on the wharf with her paints, Tarka snoozing beside her in the sun. Painting was a good way to escape from everyone.

  It was Alice. “I want to talk to you,” she told Polly.

  Polly finished applying a blue wash. Then she put down her brush and waited for one of Alice’s nasty comments.

  To her surprise, Alice looked uncomfortable. She sat down beside Polly. “I just wanted to tell you I heard about your father. I don’t care about what he did, but I’m really glad for you that he’s alive.”

  “Thanks,” said Polly warily.

  “I … well, I understand what you’ve been through, pretending all this time that your father is dead.”

  “You do?”

  Alice nodded. “My father is alive too!” she blurted out. “Oh, Polly, what a relief it is to tell someone!”

  Polly stared while Alice continued. She told Polly how her father had left her and her mother when Alice was six. “He just didn’t come home one day. I’m sure it’s because my mother drove him crazy. She was always nagging at him. He could never do anything right.”

  Mrs. Mackenzie had brought Alice to live on the island with her father. After he died, she’d continued to live in his house. “She told everyone that she was a widow,” said Alice bitterly. “I had to promise to say that too. She kept saying Dad might as well be dead, because I’d never see him again.”

  “Have you?” asked Polly.

  Tears slid down Alice’s cheeks and her voice shook. “No, I never have. But you know what, Polly? When I’m a famous singer, I bet he’ll hear about me and come to one of my concerts!”

  “I bet he will,” said Polly. “Do you remember him?”

  “I remember him perfectly! He was so nice to me, much nicer than Mother. We used to sing together. He had a good voice—he was in a choir.”

  Alice wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand. “Polly, you are so lucky! When are you going to see your dad?”

  “I don’t know,” mumbled Polly. “Maybe after Christmas.”

  “You must be so excited!”

  Polly couldn’t answer. How could she tell Alice, who might never see h
er father again, that she didn’t want to see Daddy?

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  THE WHOLE TRUTH

  Polly took a sip of champagne, watching Sadie’s radiant face as she and Gregor walked around arm in arm, passing out slices of wedding cake. My heart is like a singing bird … that was the first line of the love poem Noni had read to Polly this morning, in honour of Gregor and Sadie. Was that what Sadie felt like—a singing bird?

  The wedding ceremony had “gone off without a hitch,” as Aunt Jean said. It had happened so quickly that Polly wished they could do it all over again. Polly was the first of the bridesmaids to walk up the aisle. She clutched her bouquet of cornflowers and roses to stop her hands from trembling. After her came Virginia, who was Sadie’s oldest friend from Duncan, then Sadie’s cousin Marion, then Cynthia. Maud was the maid of honour, followed by Sadie’s shy little niece, Christine, the flower girl. She kept her head down as she scattered rose petals from her basket.

  Gregor waited eagerly at the front of the church. Aunt Jean had insisted he get a kilt made; he wore it with a black jacket that had shiny silver buttons. On one side stood Alec, his best man. Uncle Rand stood on the other side in his robes, his face filled with quiet pride. Aunt Jean sat in the front pew beside Noni, in her new pink suit and flower-strewn hat. She was already dabbing her eyes.

  Everyone gasped as Sadie appeared at the back of the church, clinging to her father’s arm. Mrs. Waddington boomed out “Here Comes the Bride” on the wheezy organ and Sadie walked up the aisle in her white organza dress. She couldn’t stop grinning, especially when she reached Gregor.

  It seemed only seconds later that the wedding party burst out of the church into the August sunlight to the accompaniment of Captain Hay playing the bagpipes. Aunt Jean had fretted endlessly about rain, but the weather was warm enough to have the reception on the church lawn.

  Everyone on the island seemed to be there, eagerly crowded around the long tables of dainty sandwiches and fancy squares. Children dashed around the grown-ups’ legs. The Carver brothers were playing a waltz on their fiddle and accordion, and some couples began dancing on the grass.