Vignettes 8 & 9
Grabbing the freshly baked loaf and some jam, Kate settled into her chair at the water's edge, breaking off a chunk and handing the rest to Julia. Crumbs found a place in her lap, and she brushed them into her palm and placed them carefully on the plate. The two of them were wrapped in blankets but enjoying the breeze and the sounds and smells of the water. Julia was teaching bread-making, which she tried to say was quite like chemistry (today was brioche) and Kate reciprocated by teaching Julia to cook some new dishes and tame the garden outside (each more art than science.)
Kate looked at the other woman, and thought to herself that Julia was doing very well at present, considering when they started she was nearly suicidal. The nightmares ended within about three weeks of working together. For Julia, darkness was marginally more tolerable now and she could finally sleep restfully which was a relief. Julia's physical memories of her ordeals were also reduced, but she still felt a choking sensation or panic when triggered, necessitating constant action to ameliorate. Both women knew complete recovery was going to be a slow process. Kate glanced again at her patient and companion, who was feeding tidbits of bread to the dog. We are going to have to talk about avoidance today—and anger, Kate thought.
"I wonder if she will miss her babies," Julia offered with pats to the broad head. There were four puppies, all cute, born a month ago, and would need homes about the time Julia went back to hers in Toronto. One neighbor renting a house down the lane had already claimed one. "She is a good mother, aren't you, girl?" Julia said with the last morsel in her hand. The dog was pregnant on arrival and not claimed by any of the neighbours Kate persuaded her to canvass. They called her "Tari," short for Ontario, and took her in for the duration of the pregnancy out of female sympathy and solidarity. Kate was even considering taking Tari with her when her work with Julia was over.
Julia was not sure exactly how it happened, but while they fussed over the dog, baked and cooked and gardened and walked, Kate got her moving into a rhythm again. All through that they just….talked. About anything and (almost) everything.
Julia was slowly working up to reentering at least an outer-semblance of her normal life. She was able to rent her house again after all starting in January (would not even considering living in Darcy's house on Jarvis), and already lined up appointments with her solicitor, banker, and the administrator of the asylum. She had spoken to her sister and father at some length on the telephone, and written a few letters to friends, a very difficult one to Darcy's parents…had even spoken to Emily. The trauma symptoms were in much better control, but she had not approached her grief and none of it touched her anger. The therapy with Kate was nothing she had expected and everything she needed, but would be ending soon, before she was completely ready. Julia knew perfectly well she was still avoiding the deepest issues, and needed to prepare herself…and she was very, very afraid to open the wound that was William.
# # # # # #
"Pull! Puuullll!" Three adolescent boys grunted at the rope as Father Clemens, high on scaffolding, steadied the enormous chandelier's rise to the ceiling of St Paul's. The priest called down to the crew on the floor of the church, and then turned and muttered to his companion, "I hate heights!" while sharing a wry grin. William had personally wired the sanctuary lights for electricity and was up here in the air with him ready to install this final one, just in time for Christmas week. Father Clemens also persuaded William to teach some of the young people in the congregation about basic electricity and wiring in classes after work at the rectory, as a way to build skills that might lead to employment. His first students (14 boys and one girl) cleaned, prepared and rewired all the oil lamps in the rectory and it went so well, Father Clemens thought he might ask William to do it again after the first of the year. Three of the students were now many feet below manning the hoist.
The light was nearly there now, and William brought the connections together, then the two men fastened the medallion and chain securely. William inspected each light a second time and called down to one of the boys,
"Turn on the whole sanctuary power, then turn on the light and let's see what we have!" He watched two lads run off, and waited a few minutes until one called out, "Ready?"
The priest said "Yes!" and with a click the lights blazed. He and William congratulated each other and then made their way carefully down the scaffolding. By the time his feet were solidly on the church floor, Father Clemens noticed the change falling over his parishioner again—inner tension betraying the outwardly calm appearance.
William had started by reading and studying the Gospels and discussed his questions and thoughts over tea and chess in the rectory at least once a week, as a satisfying friendship developed between the two men, with the priest only occasionally having to struggle to keep up with his companion's quite singular mind. They were close in age, the priest being a few years younger, and had interests in common that lead to a rapid mutual appreciation over the last couple of months. Better still, William was willing to submit to spiritual guidance and the confessional and keep that separate from their socialization. Christ's Passion was the current discussion topic: Faith and Love. But there it is again, Father Clemens thought, that sadness and disquiet.
Father Clemens drew the lads together and thanked them, then asked them to pray with him, eyeing William in an invitation to join, which he did. "Please pray with me gentlemen: Teach us, good Lord, to serve You as You deserve; to give and not to count the cost; to fight and not to heed the wounds; to toil and not to seek for rest; to labor and not to ask for any reward, save that of knowing Your Will, Amen."
"Amen," echoed the lads and William.
"More St Ignatius, Father?" asked William as they walked out behind the boys who headed home, and the two of them went over to the rectory.
"I think it apropos, don't you? Is it not almost your own motto, except you substitute "Truth" for the Lord's Will? Your whole career has been about serving the truth, if I were to characterize it."
William paused, wondering where the priest was going with this. "Yes, Father, I like to think so…" They both entered the rectory parlour.
"You are working on the third Movement of St Ignatius' exercises now, are you not?" He saw William nod. "Yet, you still struggle with God's Will. What if the truth, William, is that your Julia remains lost to you?"
"Then I will have to accept that and go on with my life…" William spoke it flatly, sitting in a hard-backed chair.
"So…you would give up so easily? What if the truth is that you belong together…?"
"How can that be, Father? She has made no move to contact me. I promised to stay away and I have. My behavior, my sin, cost another man his life and nearly got her killed. Even if God forgives me…. Julia does not!" William started his delivery this through clenched teeth, and looked at the priest's face in consternation as his voice dropped into a whisper by the end of the statement.
"Ah…you are now willing to entertain the idea that God forgives? That is a start. As for your Julia…William, it has only been three months and a little more. You need to give her enough time to heal and adjust. You know your own spiritual journey is taking extra time too and is not unfolding without wrinkles." Father Clemens leaned over the chess board. "I thought you were a man who knows how to wait?"
"That's just it, Father, I have made the mistake of being slow to act, or waiting too long….."
"William, are you, or Julia, really to blame here? Did you recruit Mr Gillies to stalk and terrorize your life or hers? Did you desire Dr Garland's death? Did your love for each other truly cause any of this?" Father Clemens had withheld speaking this way until now, trying to calculate the right timing for it.
William groaned. "No. Joseph, it did not!" William used the priest's Christian name only rarely and only in private, signaling a shift between priest and friend. He was upset enough at the other man's goading to do so now as he put his head in his hands. "James Gillies is to blame and he will ultimately pay for his crimes, but I can't help feeling guilty as irrational as that is. "
"So you know it is irrational…. Tell me, my friend, if Julia is as smart as you say she is, don't you think she will eventually arrive at the same conclusion? And when she returns, what will she be seeking in you and what will you have to offer?" He looked at William, making sure he was paying attention. "Have faith," he said, as he moved his first pawn on the board.
# # #
William tucked his maroon scarf tighter to keep his chest from the brunt of the cold after bidding Father Clemens good night. He planned on walking home and doing some reading before bed, but by the time he reached the street he changed his mind. He checked his watch and hailed a passing hansom, heedless of the expense, and asked to be taken to his boarding house and for the cab to wait outside.
"Mrs Kitchen? Mrs Kitchen!" he called, and knocked on her parlour door before she opened it and peered out. "There you are!"
"Whatever is the matter, Mr Murdoch?" his landlady asked. She hadn't seen him in a state like this in a while and was alarmed.
"Nothing is the matter Mrs Kitchen, and I know it may be an inconvenience, but I was wondering if you would like to attend the station house Christmas party with me. Tonight? Now, in fact. " he grinned at her and looked as appealingly as possible to persuade her.
"Now? A party?" Mrs Kitchen's hand flew to her hair to check her pins. "Well, I am not dressed for a party, and it is very cold and snowy outside…."
"No one is dressing up, it is just some food at a local pub and I was hoping you would do me the pleasure of accompanying me. I'm sure there will be singing," he threw in to sweeten the deal. He knew Mrs Kitchen loved Christmas songs. "I have a cab waiting…?"
Mrs Kitchen rallied quickly. If Mr Murdoch is actually going to have a little fun for once, who am I to get in the way of that! "I would be honoured Mr Murdoch. Let me get my coat and hat."
William helped her with her coat and escorted her to the waiting cab, bundling both of them in the carriage rug for warmth as the driver took off for their destination. He had decided he could not bear attending the New Year's Policeman's Ball with its memories of Julia, and firmly declined all entreaties to do so. But maybe the Christmas party tonight would be a good start at socializing again. And having Mrs Kitchen with him will reduce the awkwardness, he hoped. I wonder who will win the betting pool about whether or not I was going to show up?
