Chapter Four
I went to the new cemetery to talk to Bruce and saw Jerry sitting near his marker. His white head was bent over the small white painted post and reminded me of an i. We haven't placed a headstone on the grave site yet because the earth isn't settled enough to bear the weight. It's still in a mound, and I will be sad to see it go. The little lump seems more Bruce to me, as if he was only sleeping under a pile of bedclothes.
Jerry was studying his finger. I put my hand on his shoulder to let him know I was there.
"Is it still troubling you?" I asked him. "The thorn I mean."
Jerry helped me make Rilla's wreath for her wedding. I found him near our back gate when I was seeking out flowers to decorate her veil. Together we wrestled with a mess of briars that grow in the alley between the Manse and the Cole place. Then sat on the old bench under the quince bower, Jerry removing the prickles while I wove the roses into a crown.
"I can feel it alright," he said, not looking up, "I just can't get it out."
I placed the pebble in my pocket by a larger stone and knelt down beside him. The grass had been clipped recently and little flecks of green stuck to my dress and my boots. The smell reminded me of cold flasks in the river and hot heads under hats and arguments over whether the ball had bounced or been caught on the full.
"You never bothered with the bread poultice, did you?" I asked him.
"Seemed such a waste of bread." Jerry said. He put his knuckle to his mouth and sucked it.
"Perhaps Miss Gregory will pray for it this evening. You know how she likes praying for everyone's aches and pains."
"I'm not going," Jerry muttered. "I can't face it-"
"I thought that was the point of Prayer Meetings," I said, "so that we never feel we are facing things alone."
There was a sharp retort in his mouth, I could sense it needling at him as surely as his splinter. But Jerry has always been in the habit of being gentle with me. Everyone has.
"Sorry, U. I shouldn't be so gruff- not in front of the wee man."
He passed his hand over the marker. I think everyone who comes here does that. There isn't one speck of dust or dirt on it, only a large stone wedged at the base. Jem placed it there after Rosemary collapsed upon the post and caused it to tilt. The day after the wedding I discovered Persis with a brush in her hand and another between her lips, painting the rock to look like a small cat curled up in sleep. I wondered if this was a happy coincidence or if someone had told her about poor old Stripey.
"I'm sure Bruce would understand," I said.
I want to say 'he', or 'our brother' or anything but his name because it still hurts to say it. But I make myself. The last day the last person says his name is the day he truly dies. These aren't my words, they're Mrs Blythe's. She often talks of Walter. Not in a sentimental way, declaring how he would have loved this or loathed that. She simply remembers him, quietly and lovingly; a line of one his poems, his favourite hat, the sound of his laughter. Whenever I'm near her I am always waiting, hoping, to hear her say something about him. Others declare that it's time she let go of her loss and moved on. Though they don't say it in so many words.
"Let us pray for the Blythes and for Mrs Blythe especially, that she might yet find the grace to yield to God's will."
This was one of the prayers offered at Prayer Meeting last week. To which Jerry responded, "Let us pray for Mr Amos, that he may yet know the difference between the will of God and the godlessness of war."
I shrank in my pew as he said it. Not because I am ashamed of Jerry -how could I be- but because I knew it would hurt our father. Lately Prayer Meetings have become another sort of battlefield, with many congregants taking their aim at him.
Everyone knows about Faith. And even though she is married there are some who find the conduct of the Minister's daughter reflects poorly on our Church and feel it their duty to say so. She had talked of staying in the Glen until Christmas. The twins are expected then, and after her trouble in Southampton Dr Blythe wanted to keep her close. Jem was to go with the new intake at Toronto in the New year and I had been up in the east attic seeking out Bruce's baby things. But this morning when we stood on the veranda to say goodbye to the Fords and my sister and Jem were with them.
"It's for the best," Faith told me. "Two years will fly by and everyone will have forgotten all about our babies' beginnings. I can't bear for people to judge Father because of something I've done. When I think of the times those high and mighty humbugs stumbled -and who did they expect to pick them up?"
"But the idea of you in Toronto... alone-"
"I won't be alone," she said simply, then reached into the pocket of her coat and brought out a black stone spotted with white. "This is for our wee man. You know how he always had his eye out for pretty treasures -I suppose he learned it from Jem." Faith passed it to me and the tiniest shiver went through her hand and into mine. "Well, I want to do that for him now. I want to bring him more than a posy or a wax flower... Something special- how did he describe it? 'Rarey with rainbows inside'. You'll do that for me- while I'm gone, won't you, Una? Promise me."
I promised. And then Faith piled into the Super Six with Jem, Dog Monday, Owen and Leslie, who did her best to raise as much red dust as she could as she motored down the drive -and to nettle as many Glen folk as she could by sounding the horn down the street.
We returned to the Manse and the Christmas we'd hoped for was folded up and put away with the the laundry and extra linen. Rosemary called me down from the attic and we had afternoon tea in the living room as though I was a guest. Father was holding a crumpled blue envelope. I'd seen it with him a few times. It was the usual invitation from the Canadian Presbyterian Mission. I never thought anything of it. Now I stared at it as man in the Middle Ages would have stared at a plague sore.
"You're going away too, aren't you?" I said into my tea cup.
Rosemary sat by me on the arm of the sofa. "We would like for you to come too, darling. Jerry-"
"Rosemary-" my father cut in. Father is never one to interrupt, least of all Rosemary. My brothers' absence suddenly felt contrived and I knew once again that whatever I was about to be told Jerry and Carl already knew. "Could we stretch to a fresh pot, do you think?" he said.
Rosemary stood up slowly and drifted toward the kitchen. It's how she always moves now, as if she has forgotten she has a body.
I sat and waited. I knew this would be hard for Father and I didn't want to make it worse. He lives with many ghosts, not only Mama and Bruce. Jerry never really came back, Faith wasn't able to stay, and Rosemary seems as if she can no longer bear to. She keeps finding her little boy everywhere. A marble, his favourite spoon, they turn up in the strangest places and whenever she sees them she forgets what she's doing and falls in a heap. I do my best to comfort her, but what can I say on the days she finds no trace of him at all? When I found her in his room clutching his pillow and sobbing, "I can't smell him anymore, he's gone..."
Father put the envelope in my hands. It was a bit of a running joke, the annual invitation. He and Rosemary would look at each other and say, Wouldn't it be nice? Six months in Peking. A year in Hawaii. To do good work and build something new instead of always walking the fine line between the precious feelings of the Elliots and the blunt opinions of the MacAllisters. Of eking out the slim pickings in the pantry for over-stayers, and lately, dodging barbed remarks about his beloved daughter. The latter had provided him with the final push.
"Where are you going?" I asked.
"Siam."
It was as though ice water had been poured on my head. I couldn't go so far away. I couldn't- I couldn't...
"When?"
"After Christmas... won't you come, Una? It would grieve me to leave you, sweetheart."
I wanted to say, then don't go. Instead I went and made the tea it looked like Rosemary had forgotten. Sloshing hot water into the pot to warm it, selecting just the right sort, something strong but not astringent. Milk first for Rosemary and after for Father, and would Carl be wanting any? And should I go with him tomorrow? I had once intended to go to Redmond, Rilla was to come, too. And Faith. We were going to get a little house together, somewhere near Rilla's Aunty Phil. Then Bruce died and the girls married and I couldn't go. I couldn't- I couldn't... I would stay and manage the house for Father and Rosemary, and when Jerry graduated I would go and live with him. Anyone could see he was broken. He needed me. And Faith, and Rilla, and Bruce whose name must never be forgotten. And Walter...
"Una- Oh little one, what is it? We never were sure of the right way to tell you-"
I felt my father's arms about me. He held me tight but all I could think was, I've still got the teapot in my hand.
"It's alright," I said, pulling away carefully. "Please, I'm alright. Let me finish this."
We sat at the kitchen table, the blue envelope was produced again and we talked about it sensibly. Their faces looked almost happy as they spoke. The school that was begun in 1913 was being extended, as was the Children's Home. Many had been orphaned after the epidemic and there was just as much need of strong capable arms as there was for soft, mothering ones. I saw Rosemary's eyes burn bright as she spoke. I knew it was right for them to go and felt a shame in my heart that it didn't feel right for me.
"What do you say, Una, do you think you might like to come?"
I stood up, removed my apron, and kissed them both.
"There's someone I need to ask first," I said.
The walk to the new cemetery is a lovely one. Just across River Rd and past a row of young poplars that line the lane like children marching into the hill. A year ago a steam shovel arrived and took out a slice of it, then the ground was laid to lawn before it was promptly dug up for all the bodies. Bruce lies in the south corner by a big slab of sandstone. It's sheltered and warm and sometimes I spy a grass snake basking, though I don't point this out to Bruce. Carl is the one who has the fascination for all things scaly. He wanted to do field work after the war but the loss of one eye makes this difficult as he has no depth of vision. He keeps bumping into things. Mrs Blythe says we bump into things because we are thinking of something other than where we are going. "And I should know," she smiled, "I have the wonky ankle to prove it."
Carl is just as blithe about it. He says he only needs one eye to peer into a microscope. He means to be a doctor, the laboratory sort not the hospital sort. Jerry wants to become a doctor, too. But of theology. There was a part of him that did aspire to be a Minister like Father but he has too many whys inside him to be much good at that. A Minister is supposed to have the answer not ask the question, at least that's what Jerry thinks. Or he used to. Now I don't know what he believes.
"I miss our little brother, U. I miss him- I never realised what he was to me. It was Jem he idolised... and you he adored-"
"He had a way, didn't he?" I said. "Remember when everyone was dreaming up nasty punishments for the Kaiser. Boiling him in oil, firing him from a catapult, and Bruce said all he wanted was to make the Kaiser good, so that he would know what he had done and would have to live with that knowledge for the rest of his... Jerry-"
Jerry was crying. He wrapped his arms about his legs and sobbed against his knees. I lay my head against his back. I could feel great wracks go through his body and into mine, and I held him tighter thinking there might be a way for me to absorb them, contain them, and keep him safe and clean. We stayed that way awhile, my knees hurt, and my neck, but I didn't want to let go until my brother wanted me to. In the next moment he did.
"It's supposed to be me being strong for you," he said, wetly.
I scruffed his hair, so snowy and soft, and nestled down next to him. "When did we make that rule?" I asked him.
It was meant as a joke, but as I've said I'm not very good at them.
"When Mother died," Jerry said, putting his arm around me. "She was worried about leaving you, she was very wise our Mama-"
He didn't need to tell me, I remember what she said. With her last breath she begged my father to keep me close and watch over me:
"The others can fight, John," she said. "But the world will hurt her."
But Mother was not so wise as to never be wrong. Because the world hadn't hurt me. It barely touched me. Instead I had to watch while it hurt everyone I loved.
"Let's not talk about that now," I said. Jerry wiped his face on his knees. "Do you know why I came here?"
"You're always here-"
It occurred to me that Jerry may have been waiting for me and I asked him.
"I assumed Father was going to tell you about our going to Siam. Mother R always said they would wait till after Jem and sis skipped off, and I knew as soon as you knew you would either bike over to Four Winds or come by here-"
"You're going too?" I didn't sound as surprised as I thought I might.
He began sucking on his knuckle again and in between sucks telling me that he couldn't face going back to Redmond, not now when all his whys had dried up. But he couldn't stay here either, not with the way things were with Nan.
How were things with Nan, I wanted to ask him. He had left her in 1914 with an unspoken promise of love in his heart, and came back four years later and found he still couldn't say it. I wasn't sure how Nan felt. She graduated in the spring and talked vaguely of going back to teaching. We all thought she was waiting for Jerry. I wondered how much longer she would wait.
"Father thinks I'll rediscover all my whys if I go back to simple beginnings. Some good earnest Mission work, that's what I need. And I'm too tired to argue with him. I haven't much left to give to be honest, but I am at least capable of making Father happy."
"You're a good son-"
"I don't know about good but I mean to be dutiful." He looked up from his hand and peered at me. Jerry has great dark eyes which always remind me of night. Sometimes they are cloaked and foreboding and other times soothing and studded with stars. "And what about you, oh dutiful daughter, what do you mean to do? Will you go with Carl or come with me?"
"I have an idea of what I would like to do," I said. "I just need to rustle up the courage to do it."
Jerry stood up awkwardly and brushed the grass from his trousers, then offered me his hand.
"If you should manage it," he said, smiling, "remember to save a lick for me."
I left him with Bruce and began my quest. The road there was even more beautiful, the sun was low and painted stripes over the red dirt. The feel of the hillside behind me seemed almost encouraging, even the breeze at my back seemed to jostle me along. I made believe I was one of the clouds. The ones above me were shadow-coloured, but cast against the coral sky they seemed lighter, like flecks of ash rising from a fire.
I kept my eyes on their movements, on the spectral way they would change. I could stare unblinking for whole minutes at a cloud shaped like a turret and then blink my eye once and find it had transformed into a cave, a dragon, a row boat, a man. The nose of what had been airplane was now a maple leaf, now an arrow, now an arrowhead. Then the ancient smell of scotch pine filled me and I looked earthward again. To a meadowy patchwork of grass merging into clipped borders spilling with roses and marrows. Then to a stepping stone path threaded with mint that wove up the steps to a moss coloured door. To the left was a glossy brass bell and a neat knotted handle waiting to be pulled. But I have never pulled it. The people who live behind this door would only look at me askance and ask me why on earth I didn't just come in.
I think I would have rung it because there was something I wanted to ask, and proper formalities seemed right to me even if it made them laugh. But the front door stood wide open. There were cases and trunks in the hall, as well as a hat, in inconceivable hues of purple, pink and green. There were voices too, both familiar and unheard of, and footsteps tripping toward me. But these I knew. These belonged to someone I love and I didn't need to assemble a smile, it came to my face unbidden.
"Mrs Blythe -Anne, good evening, I... hope I haven't come at a bad time but there's something I wanted to ask-"
"Oh- oh Una!" Mrs Blythe gasped, "What a piece of luck to see you-"
My hand was grasped almost gratefully, hers was cold and shaky and her mouth was a soft, red blur. She tugged me into the garden, I noticed her other hand carried a saucepan.
"Anything edible, dig it up," she commanded, plucking at beans so quickly she left half the pods on the vine. "Oh, you won't believe it, Una. You simply will not believe it..."
The quest would have to wait. I went to the opposite corner and began sizing up some likely onions. Soon the saucepan and my skirts were filled and she hastened me into the kitchen. The first thing that struck me was how strange it was to be there when Susan wasn't.
"Now, Una, darling -you have the wonderful reputation for being something of a cook-"
"I do?"
"You certainly do, and I need you to summon your talents now. Tell me you can spare a half hour- you can spare a half hour, can't you?"
"Of course, Mrs Blythe. I'm glad to help, but what about Susan? As one cook to another I can tell you she will not like me taking over her kitchen."
"Bless you, sweetheart," Anne murmured, wiping her hands on the tea towel. "And you can be sure that Susan will bless you, too." She tossed an apron at me and hurried to the hallway. The telephone began to trill but she ignored it. Her eyes had that green look of a sky just before a thunderstorm. I wasn't sure if she was going to cry or scream. "Just make whatever you can manage out of that-" she said, over the sound of the 'phone. "And only that!"
"Mrs Blythe," I said, staring at the produce she was pointing to. "I don't know what you mean-"
"Shirley's arrived, oh Una, Shirley is here! And he's married... To a vegetarian!"
...
Thanks for reading this story so far. I had many loose ends to tie up first, and a lot of those ends were sad, so if you've stuck with me until this point I promise you the story will get more lighthearted from now on :o)
