A Season for Miracles

by Jean Little

  Helen is very lively. Since she arrived home from Havergal College, her boarding school, many friends have come to call. Today we walked into Dundas with some of them to shop and take tea. Robbie came too, not willingly, but his mother insisted that teenage girls needed someone older and sensible with them. We went to a big store called Grafton’s. It is not as big as Woodward’s in Vancouver, but it is very fine. Helen and her friends were like birds darting from counter to counter. I was shocked by how casually they bought things, as if money was not real to them. In fact, they did not even use money, but told the shop assistants to put it on their accounts, which I assume their parents pay. A very sour part of me was jealous. That money would mean much to my baba and me, not for frivolous things like scarves and gewgaws, but to send home to China where it would feed them for many months.

  The girls had so many questions for me. I don’t think they have spoken to anyone Chinese before. Some questions I did not mind — the ones about school — but others embarrassed me — the ones about my family. My answers were short, but the questions did not stop. Our restaurant fascinated them, and I burned inside when one of Helen’s friends said, “How quaint! Perhaps we should take you to one of the Chinese joints in Hamilton so you’ll feel at home.” I did not answer her but looked away. The others, including Helen, laughed. Robbie spoke then, his voice cutting through the laughter. “That’s enough, girls, give May a rest from all the questions.” I was very grateful.

  After our tea, it was still light and the girls wanted to walk down to see if what they called “the turning basin” was frozen enough to skate on (it was). I have never skated, but I have read about it and think it might be fun. Helen whispered that she had old skates that would fit me. I think it was her way of apologizing for laughing earlier.

  As we walked, I stayed back from the girls a little. I had had my fill of questions. Robbie slowed his pace and walked with me, talking at little. He asked questions, too, but these I did not mind so much because they were to do with my work with his aunt and my plans for medical school. He is very quiet in his manner, not like Ivor at home who is always loud and full of his own opinions. I could talk to Robbie and ask questions too. He is in his first year at the University of Toronto. This made me happy because I will know someone when I come in two years time, but when I said this, he sighed and said, “For a little while, perhaps.” His face got very downcast and he told me that although he would like to study and be a minister like his uncle, his father will not allow it. Robbie is expected to take over the family business. I was surprised. I thought that when you were rich, you had no problems and life was always easy.

  Friday, December 24, 1926

  It is very late and I am tired and overwhelmed. Although today was meant to be devoted to a party, it has also been an important day for me because I have learned what I must face in the future.

  I realize now how rich and important Miss MacDonald’s older brother must be. There was a huge open house today. I have never seen so much food. Extra servants were hired to help. So many people came that I lost count of them all.

  I did not know how I should dress, so I put on my best clothes, the ones I have been saving to meet the people at the university: the dark serge skirt and the new white blouse that Mrs. Lee, at home, helped me make. She has been teaching me to sew when she makes clothes for her children. I had not worn them before and felt very smart.

  Helen knocked on my door when it was time to go down. I do not think I am a vain girl, but my heart sank when her face lost her smile the moment she saw me.

  “Don’t you have any party clothes, May?” she asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I’ll lend you some,” Helen said, “we’re about the same size. It will be fun to dress you up.” Grabbing my hand she pulled me toward her room.

  I did not intend to be rude, but perhaps it was the way she spoke, making me sound like a plaything, a doll, to be dressed. I freed my hand from hers, saying that these clothes were my best ones and I wanted to wear them.

  Helen shrugged and said, “Suit yourself. I was only trying to help.” She walked toward the stairs without once looking back to see if I was following her.

  Downstairs, I regretted my stubbornness. I looked like a crow in a field of peacocks. Only the men and boys wore dark suits; the girls and women wore every colour there was. Even Miss MacDonald wore a lilac dress, one that was beautiful even if it looked old-fashioned. Helen had found a group of her friends. I think she was talking about me, since she kept glancing in my direction. People were staring and I felt very self-conscious. I moved toward Miss MacDonald, keeping my eyes down.

  I was almost there when a large, freckled hand pushed a glass toward me. It very nearly hit my face. I stopped, shocked, and looked up. The glass was thrust forward again. An elderly lady was staring at me. “Girl, go and get me more punch,” she ordered. I knew that tone of voice. I heard it in our restaurant when Canadians ordered Wong Bak around. I heard it once when I was waiting for my baba and Mrs. Baldwin was giving him his orders for the next day. It is a tone that expects to be obeyed without question. I shrivelled inside, but reached for the glass.

  Another hand got there before mine. Robbie stood beside me, a tight, polite smile on his face. His voice broke the silence that had overtaken the room. “Mrs. Overfield, all our servers seem to be busy at the moment, let me get you the punch.” He linked his other arm through mine. “Perhaps, May, you would like to come with me and get some punch, too, then I will introduce you to some of our other guests.”

  Conversation swelled up again. I was glad. I wanted the noise to blot everything else out. Robbie found a server and told her to fill the glass and take it back to Mrs. Overfield. He started to apologize for her behaviour, but I stopped him. It was not his fault. When he repeated his offer to introduce me to others, I did not refuse, but I doubted that I would recall the people I met. That old woman’s voice kept ringing in my head. It still is, even now, hours later.

  Since I have been here I’ve learned how I am seen because I am Chinese. I thought it might be different in Ontario, but it isn’t, not really. We are servants, and if we are not, then we are exotic oddities to be questioned and commented upon. Sometimes all I want is just to be Mei-ling, a girl with hopes and dreams like any other.

  Christmas Day

  I fought away my gloom of yesterday, eager to be part of my first ever Christmas celebrations. They were not fun! Church, church and more church! Mr. MacDonald and poor Robbie went three times! The ladies only went twice: in the morning and for an evening service. I have come to like church, although it pains my baba, as he feels it takes me away from him, but this was too much for me! Between the morning and evening service, we had a big, formal meal. Helen and Robbie sat at one end of the table with me, and I was surprised by how little their parents talk to them. Miss MacDonald tried to include them and me in the conversation, but her brother quickly steered it back to his business. After dinner, we retired to the drawing room, where there were presents to be opened. I thought I should go to my room, as this was a family time. I was shamed that I had no gifts for my hosts. Miss MacDonald took my hand and told me that none was expected from me, just as none was expected from her, since she earned so little. My embarrassment grew when there was a present for me, a large present: a beautiful winter coat with a fur collar. Mr. MacDonald said that it was practical and I would need it for Ontario winters when I come to university. I could not speak, as I was so overwhelmed, and my eyes filled with tears.

  The coat is lying beside me as I write. I keep touching it. I have never owned anything so beautiful and so expensive. Baba will not like this gift. He hates that he cannot give me much. He does not realize how much he does give me though: his companionship, his love and the strength to hold onto our dream of being a family once more.

  Sunday, December 26, 1926

  I have had the most wonderful day. There was a skating party this afternoon. It seemed like all the young p
eople of Dundas were at the turning basin. There were some older people, but not many. Miss MacDonald came, but did not skate. Helen was true to her words, finding skates for me. They worked once I stuffed some paper in the toes. I wore my new coat, and it was very warm; the fur collar snuggled around my throat.

  A tiny part of me worried that I would be the object of much staring, but I was given no chance to dwell on this. Robbie made sure of that. He was like a guardian angel, patient and putting up with my wobbliness. At first he skated backwards, holding both my hands so that I would not fall. As I got braver and could manage to glide rather than do tottering little steps, he linked his arm through mine, and in the end, we could go round and round like other people. We talked a lot. He is very kind, and when I am with him I can forget that people are looking at me, that I am thought unusual. I am just myself, someone whom he finds interesting, which makes me very happy.

  Helen skated with her friends, cheering my progress every time she whizzed by. My face went red when she said that Robbie and I looked like a courting couple. Robbie told me to ignore her, but I noticed that while most people skated alone, there were some who had paired off.

  It was dark when we got back. Helen and Robbie’s parents were in the hallway waiting for the car to take them to a dinner party. Miss MacDonald had elected to stay with “the young people.” I liked that, but I did not like Helen repeating her comment that Robbie and I had looked like a courting couple.

  Robbie did not either, as his voice was sharp when he said, “Oh, grow up, Helen! Don’t be such an idiot.”

  Mr. MacDonald gave Robbie a very hard look and told him not to be so rude to his sister.

  Helen is foolish. She makes something out of nothing.

  Monday, December 27, 1926

  Today has been strange. It is our last day here before we leave for our meeting in Toronto tomorrow.

  Last night Helen had asked Robbie if he would take us to Hamilton to see a film called Beau Geste that she says is “all the rage.” He agreed.

  This morning, however, there was no sign of him. Helen had gone to the house of a friend, so it was not until she returned for lunch that she asked where he was. Her mother said that Robbie had had to go to Toronto on some errands for their father and would be staying there for a few days.

  Helen pouted and whined that Robbie had promised to take us to the cinema and that he had said nothing about errands. Her mother’s face became very stern and she told Helen to stop, that the errands had come up suddenly, and that she was spoiled to make such a fuss. Helen did stop, but she sulked through the whole meal.

  I was not sad about not seeing the film, but I was sad that I would not have a chance to talk more with Robbie and to say goodbye properly.

  After lunch I went with Miss MacDonald to visit some of her friends. They were very kind to me, and did not ask me too many questions about myself, thank goodness! Miss MacDonald seemed quiet and a little out of sorts. I do hope that she is not sickening for something. Helen had told me that there have been cases of Scarlet Fever in Dundas.

  Things are not well in this house, and I do not know why. Helen was bored before dinner so she taught me to play cribbage, a card game that I liked a lot. We were playing in the drawing room next to Mr. MacDonald’s study. We could hear raised voices coming from there. It sounded like Miss MacDonald and Helen’s father. Helen and I looked at each other. She shrugged as if to say that she did not know what is was about.

  Dinner was very quiet. The only ones who talked at all were Helen and I.

  Tuesday, December 28, 1926

  I am writing this in our compartment on the train. It has been a day of sadness and joy, and perhaps writing things down will help me be clear about how I feel.

  Miss MacDonald was tight-lipped this morning when we left for Toronto. Only Mrs. MacDonald and Helen were there to see us off. Miss MacDonald sniffed and made a comment that her brother never could face up to unpleasantness.

  “Oh, Agnes, he’s just doing what he thinks best,” was Mrs. MacDonald’s reply.

  It was obvious that Miss MacDonald and her brother had fallen out over something. When we were finally on the train she explained what it was, and I was mortified.

  Mr. MacDonald had taken Helen’s joking words to heart and had sent Robbie away because he did not want him forming “unsuitable attachments.” That is me. I am the unsuitable attachment!

  My face must have shown my feelings because Miss MacDonald explained further, telling me that her brother had more on his mind than just the friendship that had grown up between me and Robbie. I interrupted her to tell her that Helen was wrong and it was truly only a friendship! She patted my hand and said she knew that, but her brother worried that Robbie did not want to take over the family business. He feared that seeing someone like me who was willing to fight against the odds to study and fulfill a dream might give Robbie ideas. This was what she had argued with her brother about last night. She said that Robbie should do what he wanted, not be forced into something he might come to hate. She sighed, saying that she thought her brother would not have been so blinkered in this thoughts.

  I was very confused and sad that I should be the cause of such trouble. I do like Robbie a great deal, but I never dreamed that people would think badly of that.

  Miss MacDonald peered anxiously at me and asked if I could put this out of my mind when we visited the people at the Missionary Society, as it was important that I make a good impression and convince them of my seriousness and ability. I think she was a little surprised at how quickly and firmly I said that I could.

  I hope it is not boastful to say that the meeting went well. Three people talked to us, and I was able to answer all their questions. I did blush when Miss MacDonald talked about me and told them how dedicated I was. I went even more red when she read aloud a letter from my high school principal. They smiled at this, and one said, “Clever, but modest, too!”

  Once we were out of the interview room, Miss MacDonald hugged me and whispered, “May, I am so proud of you!”

  We had to go straight to Union Station to catch our train for the long journey to Vancouver. Miss MacDonald was trying to hail a taxicab when I heard footsteps pounding toward us. When I turned to see what was happening, I saw Robbie. His face was red and he was panting slightly.

  “I didn’t think I would catch you in time,” he said. “My father had arranged all sorts of appointments with his suppliers for me today, but I’ll miss the last one if I have to, and face the consequences later.”

  My heart filled with joy when he said that he could not let me go without saying goodbye and that he would keep in touch through his aunt.

  She smiled at that. I was a little shocked when she laughed and said that she had always been good at sneaking things around her brother!

  Robbie put out his hand as if to shake mine, but then held on to my hand as he said, “I will help you, May, when you come here. You can count on that!”

  My eyes felt prickly with tears, but I did not cry. Instead I smiled and thanked him.

  After the sadness of today, now there is joy, too, knowing that I will not be alone when I am so far from home.

  Robbie will be a good friend to have. Only a friend, though. I can allow nothing to stop me from becoming a doctor. It is not something I just dream of doing. It is something I must do. So much depends upon it.

  Arabella doesn’t yet own a diary. In fact, she doesn’t even like the idea of one. But in her long letter to her friend Jane about a memorable Christmas Day in 1836 — almost a year before the turmoil of the coming rebellion — we see glimmers of the devoted diarist that Arabella will one day become.

  Stevenson House

  Toronto, Upper Canada

  26 December, 1836

  Dear Jane,

  I am so happy that you are finally out of danger. Almost half the girls in school have the measles. Sophie Allwood is said to be dreadfully ill. I wish I could come to see you but, of course, I cannot. So I am
sending you this bit of Christmas cake and a few of the sweetmeats from the Bons Bons Miss St. Clair brought on Christmas Day. (I filched them from the sideboard in the dining room before Peggy had a chance to clear after Christmas dinner.) Also I absolutely must tell you about our amazing Christmas. You will be so entertained by the events of Christmas Day chez Stevenson that you will forget all about your horrid spots.

  Christmas Day began in the usual fashion. Our house was beautiful. I helped put the cedar garland on the balusters and stair railing, and pine boughs and cones and lovely white candles on all the mantels (and I made certain to have some in my bedroom). We exchanged gifts after breakfast (it was ham and baked eggs and absolutely perfect cinnamon rolls). I think Papa liked the penwipe I made for him, Charlie said he liked his scarf and I hope Mama liked her handkerchief as I had laboured over it mightily. Papa gave me a copy of The Pilgrim’s Progress, Mama gave me a handkerchief that was much finer than the one I gave her (I think it came from France) and Charlie gave me a box of sugar fruits (his favourites, he has already eaten half of them). We were all quite jolly.

  We went to church in the morning, all dressed in our Christmas best. (Jane, I had such a beautiful new deep-green velvet dress with lace on the collar — but I will tell you more about that later!) Dr. Strachan preached in his usual Scottish voice about charity but that was bearable because we sang “For Unto Us a Child is Born” and “Adeste Fideles.” I do love the singing. Then we came home to our usual quiet Christmas dinner which, oh woe, always includes Miss St. Clair. (Jane, do you not think headmistresses ought not be invited to Christmas dinner? Or any other dinner?) Mama says that Miss St. C. is, “after all, an English gentlewoman without friend or relation on this side of the ocean,” and you know how Mama is about everything that is English! She talks sometimes as though she had not a friend or relation on this side of the ocean. It is true, of course, she does not have her mama and papa here.