Author's Note: This is my attempt at an 'origins' tale, circa 1875. I have used as much 'canon' as I and my generous correspondents could muster, and when there was a conflict between Maureen Jennings's books and MM, I defaulted to the series—the rest I made up. Thank you Maureen for creating these wonderful characters we so enjoy and for leaving lovely 'holes' to back-fill with imagination. Thank you especially to Fallenbelle with whom this material was developed, IdBeDelighted for her wise counsel, "Dutch" & "46Her" for a beta read & "NR" ('Colleen Baird') for letting me spark ideas with her on the treadmill.
What happened that Fall after the Summer of '75, when, at age 12, William and his sister Susannah were taken away by the nuns from their dissolute father? How did that experience shape him, and foreshadow the man he became? -
From me to you: Happy Holidays!
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Christmas Letters
Chapter One
SAINT CATHERINE OF ALEXANDRIA DAY, 1875
MY DEAR BROTHER WILL,
I PRAY THAT YOU ARE WELL & I ASK GOD EVERY NIGHT TO KEEP YOU SAFE & PROTECT YOUR SOUL.
I AM STILL EXCITED I CAN WRITE YOU NOW EVERY WEEK. TWO MONTHS WAS A LONG TIME TO GO WITHOUT HEARING FROM YOU! THE FIRST SUNDAY OF ADVENT IS THIS WEEK & I AM FEELING THE CALLING OF GOD TO PREPARE MY SOUL FOR HIM. AUNT EMILY SAYS I AM TO PRAY & ASK TO BE WORTHY OF HIS GRACE. TODAY IS SAINT CATHERINE'S FEAST DAY. I THINK SHE IS MY FAVOURITE SAINT BECAUSE SHE WATCHES OUT FOR GIRLS LIKE ME SO I AM GOING TO PRAY TO HER. I FEEL CLOSE TO HER, LIKE SHE IS PROTECTING ME LIKE YOU USED TO DO.
IT IS ONE MONTH UNTIL CHRISTMAS & YOU COME BACK! I AM CROSSING OFF THE DAYS ON THE CALENDAR I MADE. BY THE TIME YOU GET THIS IT WILL BE EVEN SOONER.
THANK YOU FOR THE BLUE HAIR RIBBON & THE BIG ORANGE MAPLE LEAF. THEY ARRIVED YESTERDAY IN ONE PIECE – HOW CLEVER YOU WERE TO FIND A WAY TO SEND THEM THAT KEPT THEM UNWRINKLED! AUNT EMILY LET ME WEAR THE RIBBON TODAY IN MY HAIR. SHE CAUTIONED ME AGAINST THE SIN OF PRIDE BUT NOW I LOOK LIKE THE OTHER GIRLS AT SCHOOL WHO HAVE RIBBONS THAT MATCH OUR SCHOOL PINAFORE. I MADE SURE THE RIBBON STAYED CLEAN & PRETTY & EVEN THOUGH I WAS SAD ABOUT THE RIBBON MOTHER GAVE ME WEARING OUT, I WAS HAPPY TO HAVE A NEW ONE FROM YOU AND I HAVE PUT THE OLD ONE IN THE BIBLE AS A BOOK MARK.
I PUT THE ORANGE LEAF IN THE BEDROOM WINDOW JUST AS YOU TOLD ME TO, RIGHT NEXT TO THE RED MAPLE & THE YELLOW ONE FROM YOUR LAST LETTER. YOU ARE RIGHT, DOING THAT IS LIKE HAVING STAINED GLASS & THE COLOURS SHINE IN THE ROOM. AUNT EMILY LET ME USE SOME CANDLE WAX & PRESS IT BETWEEN TWO PAPERS WITH THE HEAVY HAND IRON SO IT STAYS NICE.
I LOOKED UP THE 'GENUS' & 'SPECIES' OF THE TREE & I FOUND IT TO BE VERY INTERESTING, JUST AS YOU SAID. AUNT EMILY LETS ME READ ANYTHING I WANT FROM HER BOOKS AT HOME. SHE HAS SO MANY, BUT NOT AS MANY AS YOU HAVE AT YOUR SCHOOL I GUESS AND NONE AS GOOD AS THE NEW DICTIONARY YOU HAVE!
I HOPE YOU ARE DOING WELL AT YOUR STUDIES. PLEASE TELL ME MORE ABOUT WHAT YOU ARE LEARNING IN YOUR CLASSES & ABOUT YOUR FRIENDS. I ALWAYS LIKED THAT BEFORE. HOW OFTEN ARE YOU ALLOWED OUTSIDE IN THE WOODS? ARE YOU ALLOWED TO MAKE OBJECTS LIKE YOU DID AT HOME?
DID YOU GET THE SNOW WE GOT ON MONDAY? WE HAD TROUBLE GETTING THE BACK DOOR OPEN BECAUSE OF THE DRIFTS AND IT HAS BEEN VERY COLD. AUNT EMILY HAS TAKEN IN A NEW BOARDER SO I AM SLEEPING IN HER ROOM ON THE TRUNDLE. I DO NOT MIND AS IT IS WARMER THERE.
IT HAS BEEN A WHOLE TWELVE WEEKS SINCE I BEGAN CLASSES. THE WALK TO SCHOOL WITH AUNT EMILY UP ROBINSON STREET AND OVER TO ALMA IS NOT TOO BAD EVEN WHEN THE WEATHER IS COLD, BUT WHEN THE WIND BLOWS IT MAKES IT HARD GOING. EVEN IN THE SHORT TIME SINCE YOU WERE AWAY THE TOWN HAS BEEN VERY BUSY BECAUSE OF THE RAIL ROADS AND IT HAS BEEN VERY LOUD. I LIKED TO HEAR THE SOUNDS OF THE SEA AND IT SEEMS STRANGE NOT TO HEAR IT ANY MORE. THE TIDAL BORE IS NOT THE SAME THING!
I WAS HAVING PROBLEMS GETTING USED TO THE SOUNDS OF ALL THE TRAINS BEHIND THE HOUSE, BUT NOW I LOOK FORWARD TO THEM BECAUSE I IMAGINE WHERE THE TRAIN IS GOING AND WHERE IT IS COMING FROM. THE VILLAGE SCHOOL HERE IS FULL OF CHILDERN FROM ALL OVER AND WE HAVE NEW STUDENTS COMING IN TO START SCHOOL EVERY WEEK, MOSTLY THE IRISH MOVING INTO THE VILLAGE BEFORE THE PORT CLOSES, AND I LIKE HOW THEY SOUND WHEN THEY SPEAK. AUNT EMILY SAYS THAT MOST OTHER CHILDREN HAVE SEVERAL BROTHERS & SISTERS BUT I DON'T MIND, I HAVE YOU!
I THINK I AM DOING WELL IN MY CLASSES. I PROMISED I WOULD TELL YOU MORE ABOUT SCHOOL EVERY WEEK I WRITE— WE FINISHED MULTIPLICATION TABLES, & THIS WEEK WE STARTED FRACTIONS & ANGLES IN ARITHMETIC CLASS & I AM STILL AS GOOD AS THE BOYS! MY PENMANSHIP IS GOOD AS WELL & SOON I WILL BE TAUGHT THE SPENCER WAY OF WRITING, SO THE NEXT LETTER I SEND YOU I WILL PRACTICE THAT.
I GUESS SAINT AMBROSE IN PORTUGESE COVE WAS NOT AS NICE AS MY NEW SCHOOL HERE IN MONCTON, BUT I OVERHEARD AUNT EMILY SAYING I AM VERY GOOD AT READING & WRITING WHICH MAKES HER HAPPY THAT IT WAS A GOOD SCHOOL, SO I DID NOT HAVE ANY CATCHING UP TO DO. IN FACT I AM AHEAD OF MOST IN MY CLASS SINCE I HAVE FINISHED THE THIRD READER AND AM WORKING OUT OF THE FOURTH. I THINK THAT IS BECAUSE YOU HELPED ME WITH MY LESSONS, BUT I DON'T TELL HER THAT. SHE DOESN'T LIKE IT WHEN I TALK ABOUT YOU OR TELL HER I MISS YOU, BUT I CAN TELL YOU, RIGHT?
YOU WILL BE PROUD OF ME. INSTEAD OF JUST A BOOK REPORT, I WROTE MY FIRST WHOLE STORY THIS WEEK. IT IS ABOUT THE HABITS OF BEAVERS, WHICH WE HAVE BEEN LEARNING ABOUT, & I GOT TO READ IT IN FRONT OF THE CLASS. I MADE A COPY & WILL PUT IT IN THIS LETTER FOR YOU TO READ. WE WERE SUPPOSED TO MAKE UP A STORY THAT TELLS FACTS ABOUT WHAT WE LEARNED IN CLASS. MINE IS ABOUT BILLY THE BEAVER WHO IS THREE YEARS OLD & ABOUT HOW HE BUILDS HIS HOME & GETS FOOD & FINDS A FAMILY. MY TEACHER, MISS DUPRE SAYS I READ IT WELL IN CLASS TOO. MY FRENCH IS BETTER AS WELL. BUT I MISS SAINT AMBROSE SCHOOL. I WISH I WAS AT A CATHOLIC SCHOOL LIKE YOU ARE. AUNT EMILY SAYS THAT WE MUST NOT SHARE OUR FAITH WITH OTHERS AT SCHOOL BECAUSE THE SCHOOL WILL FROWN ON THAT. SHE SAYS I MUST WEAR MY CRUCIFIX UNDER MY DRESS AS SHE DOES, SO THE HEAD OF THE SCHOOL DOES NOT GET ANGRY. SHE SAYS THAT MY TEXTBOOK MUST NOT PERSUADE ME AWAY FROM MY FAITH BUT I DO NOT QUITE UNDERSTAND WHY SALVATION, RIGHTEOUSNESS AND PIETY ARE NOT GOOD FOR A CATHOLIC TO READ ABOUT.
WHY DON'T PEOPLE LIKE US, WILL? I MET ALMOST NO ONE WHO WAS NOT CATHOLIC BEFORE. IT MUST BE WONDERFUL TO BE ONLY WITH THOSE OF OUR FAITH AT ST. IGNATIUS. I HEAR THERE ARE PLANS FOR A GREAT NEW STONE CHURCH HERE TO REPLACE THE WOOD-FRAMED ST. BERNARD'S CHURCH & MAYBE A CONVENT & A SCHOOL IN MONCTON. I HOPE THEY HURRY UP SO I CAN GO THERE.
IT IS STILL FEELS FUNNY TO GO TO THE SAME SCHOOL AUNT EMILY TEACHES AT, BUT I HAVE NOT MADE AN ERROR. I MAKE SURE TO CALL HER MISS WELDON AND SHE CALLS ME MISS MURDOCH. I AM STILL GETTING ALONG WITH MOST OF THE OTHER GIRLS & BOYS. I LIKE SCHOOL HERE & I HAVE BEEN A GOOD GIRL, JUST LIKE I PROMISED YOU I WOULD BE. I SAY MY PRAYERS & MY ROSARY, & READ MOTHER'S PRAYER BOOK EVERY DAY & I LEARN MY CATECHISM. I PRAY HARD NOW FOR THE GIRL I TOLD YOU WHO WAS MEAN TO ME, JUST LIKE FATHER KEEGAN TAUGHT US AT CHURCH, & YOU ARE RIGHT I SHOULD HAVE DONE THAT RIGHT AWAY. I FEEL BETTER THAT I DO.
AUNT EMILY MAKES SURE I GO TO SCHOOL & CHURCH & CLEAN & DO MY CHORES & BEHAVE LIKE A LADY, BUT SHE NEVER SMILES LIKE MOTHER DID. SHE SAYS THAT SHE CAN TELL MOTHER HAD NOT BEEN RAISING ME, TELLING ME I DO NOT HAVE SOCIAL GRACES, BUT I AM JUST SHY LIKE YOU ARE. AUNT EMILY SAYS I AM NOW A YOUNG LADY & NOT A LITTLE GIRL ANY MORE & SHE SAYS I CAN LEARN ABOUT KEEPING HOUSE TO HELP HER IN ADDITION TO EMBROIDERY. I QUITE LIKE IT BECAUSE I WILL BE LEARNING TO BAKE BREAD THIS WEEK & WHEN I GET GOOD AT IT, THAT WILL BE MY CHORE HERE TOO AND HELPING WITH MEALS FOR HER TWO BOARDERS. I HAVE PUT AWAY THE DOLLY YOU MADE ME ON A SHELF BUT I CANNOT BEAR TO PART WITH IT EVEN IF I AM NOT A GIRL ANY MORE & NO LONGER PLAY WITH IT.
AUNT EMILY SAYS WHEN YOU COME HOME ON CHRISTMAS EVE WE WILL GO TO BED EARLY THEN GET UP & GO BY SLEIGH TO SAINT BERNARD WHERE FATHER MURRAY WILL SAY MASS THIS YEAR INSTEAD OF AT SAINT ANSELME. SHE SAYS IT IS A TRADITION HERE FROM WHEN THE ACADIANS WERE SENT AWAY. WHEN I HEAR THAT STORY I CRIED TO LEARN ABOUT PEOPLE BEING SENT AWAY. I PRAY THEY HAD GOD WITH THEM ON THEIR JOURNEY.
YOU ASKED ABOUT FATHER KEEGAN, BUT HE HAS NOT SENT YOU ANY LETTER HERE. I WILL SAVE ANYTHING THAT COMES FOR YOU UNTIL I SEE YOU NEXT MONTH. AUNT EMILY HAS ALSO NOT HEARD FROM OUR FATHER BUT A SMALL PARCEL ARRIVED FROM BACK HOME WITH A PICTURE OF MOTHER AND A ROSARY THAT I THINK I REMEMBER BELONGED TO HER. AUNT EMILY SAYS THE NOTE SAID EVERYTHING ELSE FROM OUR COTTAGE WAS SOLD TO PAY FATHER'S DEBTS AND THAT WHEN HE FINISHED TIME IN JAIL HE LEFT. NOTHING ELSE. I LISTENED TO WHAT YOU SAID ABOUT FORGIVING FATHER. AUNT EMILY SAYS HE WAS MOTHER'S CROSS TO BEAR AND SHE SEEMS ANGRY SOMETIMES AT HIM. SHE SAYS SHE HOPES I DON'T WASTE MY LIFE LIKE MOTHER DID AND WANTS ME TO BE A TEACHER LIKE HER AND LIKE MOTHER WAS SUPPOSED TO BE BEFORE MARRYING FATHER. I STILL MISS MOTHER. I PRAY FOR MOTHER'S SOUL EVERY DAY & AUNT EMILY LET ME LIGHT A CANDLE. I PRAY FOR YOU AS WELL.
PLEASE COME BACK SOON.
YOUR DEVOTED,
SISTER SUSANNAH
Susannah put her pen down and examined the letter, pleased that her words were properly formed and there was not a single smudge mark or ink blot anywhere. Perfect! She continued to blow on the page to set the ink, enjoying the flutter sound it made when air moved across the paper. There was just enough light coming through the window to create a colourful glow through large hand-shaped leaves affixed to the panes. The envelope was already addressed to William in care of St. Ignatius, and merely awaited insertion of the pages she was carefully drying.
As she blew on the paper, her eye returned to an oval picture frame, back-lit by the sun.
Mother.
Susannah had tried very hard to keep the memory of what her mother looked like, sounded like, smelled like…and was ashamed to realize the image in her mind had faded or became distorted over the past four years, like when ink on a page gets wet and runs or the sun bleaches it out.
It is wonderful to have such a keepsake of Mother, Susannah told herself as she smiled at the picture, then in an instant, emotion welled up when remembering how she felt when she received the portrait, only stopping her weeping when Aunt Emily cleared her throat loudly at such an emotional display. She sighed, looking at her own face reflected in the window and the framed picture positioned beside it, twin images of brown hair, pale skin, and deep-set, almond shaped eyes.
Susannah was tempted to enclose the image of their mother for William to have along with the copy of her beaver story, but hesitated, drawn once more to the figure with dark hair and an open face that looked back at her from a brass-framed daguerreotype. No. The picture is too fragile, she realized, and repositioned it carefully on the deep window sill next to a small box containing her mother's delicate olive-wood rosary and a wooden model of a ship. She nodded decisively. I shall show Will when he gets here and let him choose.
Susannah looked again at the image: there was no smile in it, of course, but Susannah remembered her mother's lively brown eyes and high cheeks which drew up even further when she was happy. I know William misses her too, she thought. But, right now I miss him even more.
Satisfied that her pages would not smudge, she carefully creased and folded them, then slipped them into the envelope putting on the bright, compliant smile she'd been wearing for her aunt's sake, donned mostly to hide how lonely she was without her brother. Susannah lit a candle and dotted the back of the envelope flap with wax, then pressed her thumb in the tiny, hot pool. There you go, Will!
She'd never say so to him, but for the first few weeks after he left, it felt to her as if she could not take in a full breath. Aunt Emily remained unsympathetic to her distress, which no amount of distraction or chores could alleviate, encouraging prayer as the only way for Susannah to loosen her chest enough to inhale. Emily Weldonwas nothing but correct in her Christian duty; however she was also clear that sadness, most difficult feelings in fact, were due to a lack of faith in God's plan and therefore evidence of moral weakness. That was not allowed in her home. Susannah found taking her aunt's advice difficult but she put her best effort into showing how strong her faith could be. And to make Mother proud, she thought, taking a final glance at her mother's face in the picture frame.
Susannah turned to examine the wax seal to make sure it was set, patted the finished envelope, and gave it a loving kiss. Then she got on her knees and folded her hands to pray:
Dear William. Come back soon!
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SAINT ANDREW, APOSTLE FEAST DAY, 1875
"Whatcha' got there William?"
One of the boys called attention to the pages in his hand, startling William back to the present. Communication to first-year students from outside of the school was forbidden for the first eight weeks, ostensibly to allow the new students to adjust as well as impress upon them discipline from the Jesuits. To be out of touch with the 'world' was not an issue for William, but to lose contact with Susannah for such a long time period was difficult. It left him with an odd, twisty feeling in his belly that he'd never felt before, but guessed it was the same one that left at least one boy sobbing at night well into the second month of school and the reason that boy will not be coming back after the new year. Homesick, they called it. He clenched his jaw. Letters, when they finally arrived at the school in Fredericton, were greedily consumed and shared by the classmates.
William immediately clamped down hard on his reactions lest he betray them-something he was adept at by now. He and Susannah had been separated briefly in the past, four weeks just this summer in fact, but never for this long and never after so much upheaval. Looking 'round to make sure no one saw tears which were threatening to collect in his eyes, William took out his remaining clean handkerchief and blew his nose, pretending all the while his ague had caught up with him again. Men do not cry, William reminded himself, and he knew each twelve-year-old boy in this room was desperately labouring to show his fitness for manhood, himself included. The handkerchief gave him a moment to gather enough composure to show his face to the other boys who were making last minute 'underground economy' exchanges of small items, bartering arrangements and negotiating favours, while gathered around a small Ilion coal heating stove in the common area of their room where all the first-year boys slept.
What is wrong with me? he grumbled to himself; his living arrangements were at the sufferance of his aunt. Anyone would think I am pining for a home which no longer exists.
Late November snow battered the windows, driven by bitter gales sweeping down from the north and west, causing the heater to lose its battle with frost accumulating on the inside of the panes. William was used to the cold (as well as being used to never complaining, aware it did no good) so the bite of the freezing weather did not bother him as much as some of his classmates. Never-the-less, all the boys shivered and most were not looking forward to retreating to their frigid, stacked beds, so they loitered by the stove after Compline and beyond lights-out time, risking the mighty wrath of Brother Gregory, whose job it was to see to order in the dormitory at St. Ignatius. William's bed was particularly cold, situated in a corner near one of the windows that whistled air through it no matter how carefully the boys or Brother Gregory stuffed it. On the other hand, the window made it possible for William to occasionally read by moonlight, so he accepted the idea that a benefit often comes with a cost; besides he already had an idea how to block the wind with a combination of clay and discarded fibres he'd been hoarding. Tonight the moon was near dark; hence he tried to reread his sister's letter by the room's light before bed.
He assessed where the query came from while quickly pinching the pages together and slipping them into his pocket out of sight. Was it one of the boys that teased him for having mail from a sister? No. That's just Percy Albany, but I don't want to talk about it. "Nothing, Percy," and he sneezed again for good measure, nearly obscuring the sound of Brother Gregory's tread in the hallway. One boy doused the remaining oil lamp then all eighteen of them fled immediately over icy wooden floor boards to their bunks before the door opened silently and the Brother's own lantern-light revealed only supposedly obedient, sleeping figures. William did not think Brother Gregory was fooled for a minute, but as he had no grounds to punish the lot of them for the actions of a single slow-poke, the boys merely waited him out until he closed the door with a harrumph before moving down the hall to four other similar rooms, then on to his own collective sleeping quarters. William could feel the tension in the room subside as some of the boys started whispering when their guardian retreated.
William turned over to lay on his side with his head facing the window and stealthily retrieved the letter from his nightgown's pocket to tuck inside his pillow for safekeeping. His other treasures were neatly lined up on a small shelf built into his bunk. In the dim light William admired the leather of his most cherished possession: The Imperial Dictionary, English, Technological, and Scientific, Adapted to the Present State of Literature, Science, and Art; On the Basis of Webster's English Dictionary. The Dictionary, which William generously shared, was the envy of his classmates and a few students in the upper grades as well. In the school library was yet another bonus. Each school which offered a scholarship to one of the chosen Young Scholars received a subscription to Encyclopedia Britannica, the 9th Edition, so the whole school benefitted from that.
William wiggled on his thin mattress.
Sleeping on his side felt better, since his back-side and thighs still bore bruises from a thrashing he endured for speaking out of turn and he remained angry at himself for the error. In class he'd gotten so excited he rose from his seat, drawn like a magnet to the experiment being demonstrated by Brother Gabriel and blurted out the answer, which violated the rule about needing to be invited to speak, let alone having the temerity to leave his seat. The teacher caned him to make an example to the class and William was shocked at how much it hurt, as he'd never been punished before, always careful to learn the rules and behave exactly as expected- which did not necessarily endear him to his classmates.
William was developing a reputation for being entirely too serious and, worse yet, a know-it-all, which troubled him and set him awkwardly, frustratingly, apart from most of his classmates. He battled himself daily over it, and found no solution that suited him, so far. However, when he did not cry or make any sort of noise during the caning, this raised his status with his peers in an odd way which he failed to understand, but he accepted the slight change in their relationship the way he was coming to accept all else: with faith. 'Not only so, but we also glory in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope' was what he repeated to himself while submitting to the pain.
Turning away to the window also allowed him to hide his feelings: leaving Susannah for St. Ignatius was harder than he ever thought it would be, her letter today being a pointed reminder. In his mind's eye he recalled coming come back from his Governor General's sojourn in the wilderness, full of excitement and trying not to dream of going to University - only to find his father, Harry, in jail for as long as four or five months as a consequence of a drunken brawl and Susannah lodging with neighbors. He retrieved her and set them up in their cottage as he always did while their father was working or away, careful to keep a low profile and everything running smoothly. Unfortunately, this time the Catholic Sister's found out he and Susannah were unsupervised and the women decided they had to intervene by bringing the siblings to a house for safekeeping until a decision was made about disposing of them. Not even Father Keegan could intercede.
William had to act fast to avoid the nuns sending him and his sister away to a Home, or at minimum separating Susannah from him by taking her to an orphanage while he was parceled out to work. He remembered counting out the little bit of money he had hidden away from their father's clutches, hoping it was enough to take him and her as far as their Aunt Emily in Moncton, having no clear idea what awaited them at the end of the journey. He packed some belongings then fetched his sister out the back door of the house, his heart pounding for fear of being caught. It took an entire day to get the fifteen miles north up the coast to the big port city of Halifax, by walking and hitching a ride with a farmer, carrying only what fit into his ruck-sack and a small case for his sister.
At the train station in Halifax he made himself hand over the coins with a confidence he did not feel, and used every ounce of sincerity to sell his 'little white lie' of how their parents were ill, perhaps dying, and it was imperative they get to Moncton before it was too late. The ticket agent was skeptical of course, but he offered kindness and even gave Susannah a currant-laced sticky bun to eat while they waited to board. William's nerves did not settle down until the Intercolonial locomotive started to move, juddering and whining on the tracks for its slow progress north, away from everything and everyone they'd come to know.
Susannah slept in his arms for most of the 160 miles and twenty-seven stops northward, where they arrived in Moncton stiff and hungry since he had only enough money for a small loaf of bread purchased along the way, feeding his sister for two small meals. It wasn't the first time he'd gone without to care for her, doing so proudly and without complaint. Unlike our selfish father, he thought.
William straightened her dress and smoothed her hair, then took his sister's hand and walked the few blocks from the station to Aunt Emily's door, quietly reassuring Susannah that everything would be all right when he had no idea if that was another lie. He'd impulsively chosen to come here only because he had no other recourse and was starting to regret the decision-all their money was gone and there was no going back. They stood for a long minute on their aunt's porch, with William trying to get the nerve up to knock. "Go on, Will, it's just Aunt Emily," Susannah's small voice eventually prompted him, startling him out of immobility and into embarrassment at his reluctance.
Aunt Emily, her brown hair in a simple bun with a white apron slung over a dark dress, answered the door in surprise and immediate consternation, dusting flour off her hands. "What are you two doing here?" were her first words. Not a greeting. Not 'hello', William observed.
Indeed. What are we doing here and how can I explain what has happened in the four years since we have seen you, the four years since your sister, our mother, passed away? he wondered. William stood as tall as he could make himself, took in a deep breath and began his humble entreaty. He hoped to persuade the dour schoolteacher that taking them in, permanently this time, was the right thing to do, by reassuring her he'd work hard to earn their keep and not be a burden, and that Susannah would help around the house and learn to sew; he did not allude to the fact it would cost him continuing with school. William recalled the power of his gratitude when Aunt Emily looked him and Susannah up and down with a final shrewd assessment, then lifted the corners of her lips ever so briefly before widening her doorway to admit them, the bargain having been struck.
Susannah, for her part, accepted their adventure to Moncton at first because she had foggy but pleasant memories of their aunt from when they'd fled there before with Mother a time or two, to get away from Harry or when they rented the cottage out for desperately needed income. Before, Mother always eventually brought them back to their house in Portuguese Cove. His sister melted into tears when she realized there was no going back this time & William held her again on his aunt's porch swing, trying once more to explain the cruelty of life to an innocent nine year old and having no better words for their father's abandonment than when he had to tell her of their mother's death.
Outside the dormitory window, trees creaked and moaned under their burden of wet snow as a sudden bright flash, followed by a roar, penetrated the room. Several of the boys ran to the window so take in such a rare occurrence. Thunder-snow! one said in awe. Amazing, frightening, said two more.
William agreed silently: It's a good thing I am not sleeping outside today. He snuggled deeper into the wool blankets on his bed and listened to the window rattle, hoping for sleep if only the noise would die down. Like his sister, he too missed the sounds of the sea…but not the bang and clang of trains behind his aunt's house. He recalled he'd been working at the rail yard in Moncton for two weeks when Aunt Emily had surprised him by summoning him aside through the kitchen door. He slept on the side porch—it was not proper for him to share a bed or bedroom with his sister or his aunt, and considering the remaining room was rented to another female boarder, the plan was for him to sleep out there on the porch until it got too cold at which time he'd make a space in the attic for winter. Sleeping out of doors was supposedly healthful, and since the tail end of August's weather had been fine, he actually liked it better than being inside, even if the healthfulness of sleeping out of door was mocked somewhat by the grit and exhaust from the train-yard a block over.
Aunt Emily motioned for him to walk behind the house where it was more private. She had looked at him with such a fierce glare he started racing inside his skin, fearful that he'd upset her or that she'd changed her mind and they had to leave. His mouth was parched and his eyes wide and wary when she finally spoke. "William. It has come to my attention that you have been less than forthcoming with me."
Being called a liar caught him off guard. His mouth slacked open, and he felt scared and angry. He had no idea what she was talking about and stuttered a defense which she overrode with a scowl and a raised hand bearing a stiff envelope. "I have it on good authority you secured an academic prize—the Scholar from Nova Scotia was it? You have been admitted to St. Ignatius in Fredericton and are to present yourself there in ten days. Your mother would never allow you to miss such an opportunity for a quality and Catholic education, nephew, and neither shall I. That scholarship will not go to waste." She handed him a letter that was forwarded from their coastal village.
William scanned the letter rapidly. In it was a list of instructions about starting school. William's heart pounded-Father Keegan had recommended St. Ignatius and had been the one to put William's name forward to the school. He remembered how his face flamed red because he'd forgotten to write and decline admission, unable it seemed in retrospect, to give up all hope. He had been pretty sure that instead of school after enjoying his summer with other Young Scholars, he'd be returning to Portuguese Cove to find work to keep him and his sister going and the cottage roof over their heads. In fact, Harry was not particularly supportive of formal education beyond the basic ability to read, write and do sums, and fought Father Keegan about allowing William to accept his prize in the first place. William suspected in the end Harry would have sabotaged any thought William had about actually enrolling at St. Ignatius, one way or another.
At the time William tried to be realistic. Even if Harry had been free to work and not jailed with a pile of debts, their father was erratic and unreliable. The very idea of a scholarship to a fine Catholic secondary school like St. Ignatius was a brutal tease: he believed it was going to be impossible for him to go, so he accepted his fate, compartmentalizing his disappointment like setting aside a variable in a math problem. There were other things to work on first, such as supporting his sister and himself.
Which was why William stood there, dumbfounded, in Aunt Emily's tiny yard with the near constant rumble of engines and train cars as accompaniment while she gave him a small pouch of coins, the sum of his wages which he had already turned over to her. If it were possible for her to show it, he thought for all the world at that moment she might have been proud of his accomplishment. "Here. This will get you a few items from your list and a train ticket there. See that you earn the rest of it before you leave."
William blinked a few times more times in shock, then proceeded to forget himself and launch into her arms. She hugged him once then firmly set him back, clearing her throat and assuming a stern demeanor. "I will take care of Susannah, and without you around there will be one less mouth to feed," she said, stating a more prosaic reason for his departure, since the school would provide him education, room and board for as much as nine or ten months of the year. "I leave it up to you to make your arrangements and to tell your sister."
William turned over in bed and pulled the blanket over his head in frustration. Not again! he groaned to himself. He remembered his feeling of elation about going to school was immediately pierced by how awful it was to see the look on Susannah's face when he gave her the news, so much like when their father would take off for parts unknown. He felt cruel and heartless, struggling for words to explain that somehow it was for the best that he go. It was that much worse to then tell her they were allowed no contact for two months. He'd witnessing the play of emotions on her tender young face, before she managed a brave façade. Out of respect for her dignity he accepted her stilted and oh-so-correct well-wishes, putting on an act of decorum for their aunt to view and approve. It was only later on when he fetched her for dinner he could hold her slim shoulders while she sobbed out of earshot of the house, calling himself a traitor for leaving. The memory gave William's guts another twist:
Now I have to tell her I will not be with her for Christmas.
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