“No, thanks. Me and the boys can handle it. All right to drive up behind the church here?”
“Certainly, just go along the path.”
“Thanks, Reverend, and maybe you can keep those kids from following us back there. This is not a sight for them.”
“Certainly.”
Gilbert was about to drive away when he turned to Silliker again. “That shed got a lock on it?” he asked.
“I had Roy install a padlock earlier today. You’ll see it when you get up there. Just close it. Roy has the key.”
Silliker turned towards the children and raised his voice as the cart started to move up the hill. “All right, boys, run along now. There’s nothing here for the likes of you.”
“Awww, we just wanted to see the dead girl.”
“Let the poor soul rest in peace. And no peeking around when I’m gone or I’ll be paying your parents a visit. Now off with you. The lot of you should be in school.”
There was kicking of dirt and some words of protest, but eventually the boys turned and left the churchyard.
Avard jumped from the wagon and let down the tailgate. Eddie pushed the box towards the back and Avard and Gilbert lifted it down.
“Eddie, run and open the door.” Gilbert nodded his head towards the shed.
Eddie lifted the latch on the shed door and opened it wide. It bumped against a wooden table. “Not a lot of room in here, Pa. It’ll be a tight squeeze getting the box through.”
“Oh, don’t worry, it’ll fit,” Gilbert reassured him. “We’ll make sure of that.”
The body rolled around as they tried repeatedly to wedge the box through the door of the shed.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Eddie said. “She’s stinkin’ to high heaven.”
“Just a bit more. Christ, how did they expect us to get this through the door?” Gilbert panted, out of breath from the manoeuvring. “That so-called caretaker doesn’t know what he’s doing, if you ask me.”
“Just one more push, Pa,” Avard said.
Finally they got the box through the door and onto the table.
“There now,” Gilbert said as he secured the padlock. “Just have to get the word to bury her.”
***
“The jury’s gone,” Jarvis announced, walking into the Bells’ kitchen at dusk, followed by Avard and Eddie. “Catherine, may I have a cup of tea, please?”
He sat down at the table and rubbed his hands up and down his unshaven jaw. There were dark circles around his eyes.
“It’s over?”
Jarvis nodded.
“So were you right?” Eddie asked. “Did she drown, like you said?”
“It appears so, and now it’s official. I just signed the death certificate.”
Catherine placed the cup of tea on the table. “And finally she can be laid to rest,” she said, and sighed.
A boat ride to celebrate. To end the day.
Merigomish
Nova Scotia
May 1859
“Such a lovely day,” Helen Hennessey said as she looked up from her knitting on a warm spring afternoon. She loved to sit on the front veranda looking across her husband’s fields, waving at neighbours driving up and down the road in front of the house.
“Yes,” agreed Beatrice, who was sitting next to her, embroidering a pillowcase.
“Glad to be home, dear?”
Yes, very much. Although I do miss the busyness of the city. It can be dull here by times. But it’s so nice to see you and Father again.”
“And Ann? Do you think she’s glad to be home?”
The Hennessey girls were both slim and fair, with green eyes. As teenagers they’d had an outdoor freshness about them. Helen had schooled them first around the kitchen table and then, later on, in the small library that Patrick had built onto the house. The girls loved their reading, their church charity work, and helping their father manage the financial end of the many family interests.
When Beatrice was nineteen and Ann seventeen, they were escorted from Halifax by Mrs. Cora Hill, a distant relative, to the Litchfield School for Young Ladies in Boston. Letters home were filled with accounts of the books they’d been reading, the theatricals they’d seen, sleigh rides and socials. Both girls scorned dances and card parties as frivolous pastimes, preferring the poetry evenings and lectures held near their Beacon Hill lodgings.
Now, they had returned to Merigomish, their schooling completed, but Helen was concerned about Ann.
“She seemed moody and out of sorts this morning. Do you know what’s wrong with her?”
“We just got in yesterday, she’s likely still tired out from the long journey. I know I am.”
“You’re sure nothing’s wrong?”
Beatrice shook her head without meeting her mother’s eyes.
“Well, please ask her if everything is all right and let me know.”
***
“Patrick, have you noticed a change in Ann?” Helen asked as they prepared for bed.
“She seemed very quiet this evening, almost sad.”
“I think something might have happened but Beatrice doesn’t seem to know.”
“Cora never struck me as a good choice to accompany the girls down there,” Patrick said, taking off his socks. He paused for a minute then added, “She was always too casual for my liking. I remember her as a girl back in Truro. I never should have hired her to go to Boston with the girls.”
“I’ll keep after Beatrice to tell me what she knows, if anything.”
***
Weeks passed and Helen became more alarmed.
“She’s lost flesh since she’s been home and looks drawn, don’t you think, dear? Although she never complains about anything.”
“She’s taken to staring into space most of the time, and she can’t seem to concentrate. I gave her last month’s ledger to add up and had to do it over myself. She had her figures all wrong.” Patrick shook his head.
Across the hall in Ann’s bedroom, the sisters were having their own discussion.
“Where were you off to last night?” Beatrice asked Ann, who was lying on her bed with her face turned to the wall. “I know you left the house about 2:30, it’s no use denying it.”
“Just went for a little walk to the wharf. I needed to clear my head. There’s no law against that, as far as I know.”
“You’ve been going for a lot of walks lately. You looking for more excitement? Wasn’t the States enough for you? God knows who you’d meet down at the wharf that time of night. Morning, I should say.”
“Go to bed, Bea, and leave me alone, please. I’m fine.”
“Well, you don’t look it and I’m getting tired of Mother quizzing me about Boston every day. I wish she’d ask you herself and leave me out of it.”
***
One rainy afternoon shortly afterward, when Helen brought tea into the library for her daughters, she confronted Ann.
“You just don’t seem to be yourself since you got back from Boston. Did anything happen there to upset you?”
Ann met her mother’s eyes. “No, why do you ask?”
“Well, your father and I are worried something’s wrong. How did you get along with Mrs. Hill?”
“Mrs. Hill showed us around Boston and we got to know it quite well,” Beatrice replied for her sister. “But she never took us anywhere that was unsuitable. And the two of us always travelled together.”
“And you never encountered any unsuitable company or incidents?”
Ann looked down at her book. “Of course not, Mother. And Mrs. Hill was always very kind to us.”
Helen sighed. “Well, for the life of me, I can’t imagine what’s wrong with you.”
“There’s nothing wrong, Mother,” Ann said, rising from the couch. “Now please excuse me. I think I’ll lie down for a bit.”<
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Merigomish
Nova Scotia
August 1859
Helen was shocked one Sunday morning when a tall young man, unknown to the family, stepped forward at the gate of Merigomish Anglican Church and told Ann he’d like to see her home. Ann, however, did not look surprised. She smiled and turned to her parents. Patrick’s mouth formed a straight line and he shook his head. To the astonishment of onlookers, Ann frowned, turned away from her family, and, without a word, placed her hand on the stranger’s arm. He tipped his hat and he and Ann walked away together. Patrick made a move to follow them but Helen held him back.
“People will see,” she whispered. “We’ll follow them home and get to the bottom of this.”
“But who is that?” Patrick said, louder than was necessary.
Marion Beaton and her daughter Florence, who had been standing nearby, hurried toward them.
“I know who he is,” Marion offered. “That’s Will Harney. He works for Mr. MacDonald, doing odd jobs around the place. He’s been here for the last six months or so but this is the first time I’ve seen him in church. Nobody knows anything about his family. He doesn’t seem to have any relations around here.”
“He’s from Tatamagouche and very handsome but is no better than he should be,” Florence said, and giggled.
“Florence, hush,” her mother admonished in a loud whisper, looking pleased.
Marion continued: “It’s said he’s not that hard of a worker but Mr. MacDonald likes to play cards and he’s good company for him.”
It was well known throughout Pictou County that Reginald MacDonald was a drinker.
“Thank you, Marion. Good day,” Helen said, her face red with embarrassment.
Ann walking out with a strange man and defying her father in front of practically the whole congregation. What had gotten into her? Then she realized Beatrice was pulling on her arm.
“Come along, Mother. Good day, Mrs. Beaton. Florence, I’ll see you Wednesday at choir.” Beatrice pivoted her mother towards Patrick who was already across the road, pacing back and forth.
“I’m going to give that young man a piece of my mind,” Patrick fumed. “How dare he not introduce himself to me before making off with my daughter? I have never seen such gall in my life.”
“Very, very ill bred,” Helen said.
“I saw him in town last week when I went to Murphy’s,” Beatrice told them. “He was walking down Main Street tipping his hat at everyone.”
As Ann and her escort arrived at the front gate, Patrick picked up speed. “He’s not getting away from me,” he said over his shoulder.
The stranger was about to kiss Ann’s hand when Patrick came to a halt in front of them. The young man stepped back and smiled widely. Ann paled when she saw the look on her father’s face.
“Good morning again, Mr. and Mrs. Hennessey, Miss Hennessey. Thank you for permitting me to escort Miss Ann home.”
“Young man, we have not been introduced and I don’t know you from Adam,” Patrick spouted in anger. “And I didn’t give you permission to escort my daughter anywhere.”
The stranger held out his hand, still smiling. “Will Harney, at your service.”
“How do you know my daughter?” Patrick demanded, ignoring the offered handshake.
Will’s arm fell to his side. “I didn’t until I saw her in church this morning and so admired her that I thought I’d take the chance and ask to escort her home. I’m surprised that young men aren’t lined up around the corner to do so.”
He looked back at the blushing Ann and smiled.
“You’ve got a lot of gall, that’s all I can say,” Patrick told him, redder in the face than his daughter.
“Sir, Miss Hennessey’s beauty made me forget the manners my good mother took such pains to teach me. I do apologize,” Will said, bowing this time at Helen and Beatrice.
“Young man, I think we had all better step inside and get to know each other,” Patrick said, leading the way into the house.
Rockley
Nova Scotia
November 1859
“I see John has had some visitors for a while now,” Hiram Reid observed as he stepped up onto the wooden veranda of Bailey’s store. He waved at John Dempsey, who was driving by with his horse and express wagon. John returned the wave but the young man seated beside him looked away. Calvin Bailey, the store’s proprietor, was leaning on a broom that, a minute before, his wife, Jennie, had handed to him, demanding that he sweep the veranda.
“Visitors nothin’,” Calvin replied, spitting a wad of tobacco over the veranda railing. “They’re his family come to live with him. His sister Mabel and her son and his wife. They plan to stay, I guess. The young fellow’s been lookin’ for work, John said. His wife’s a pretty little thing but I’ve seen her just the once on the day they came. There’s going to be an addition to their family, I’ve heard.”
“Well, new people moving in is always a good thing,” Hiram said. “Now, I got a list of supplies the wife sent me for. I’d better not go home without them.”
***
“I’d rather live in Amherst myself,” Will said after he and his uncle passed Bailey’s, “but Ma wants me to stay here at the home place. Can’t you talk her into staying with you and letting me and Ann move on? Rockley’s pretty dull. I could use some excitement once in a while.”
“I’ve tried, but as you know she’s stubborn as they come. And you and her have never been apart that much since your father died. Give her time and I’ll talk to her again. And you might as well stay until after the child’s born. It makes sense, Mabel being a midwife will make it much easier for Ann when the time comes.”
“Don’t worry about her. That woman’s like a cat. She’ll always finds a way to get by.”
John turned to his nephew to reply but decided against it. He didn’t want to start another argument. He’d heard enough of them since the arrival of his sister and her son.
After their wedding, Will had told Ann that a whole new life was waiting for them in Cumberland County, that they would live with John for a while but would soon have a place of their own. Ann was eager to go to Amherst and get a fresh start. But they had been in Rockley three weeks now and Mabel wouldn’t hear of her son travelling so far away to look for work. And that was the end of it.
Rockley
Nova Scotia
April 1870
“I do believe that Mary is a bit simple by times.”
Mabel was looking out of the window.
“Why do you say that?” Ann asked, coming over to the older woman’s side.
“Well, what kind of ten-year-old spends her time doddling up the lane in the pouring rain.”
Ann looked out of the window to see her daughter, sitting on her haunches, peering down into a puddle, with her dress trailing in the mud.
“Mary’s making up stories in her head.” Ann smiled and moved away from the window. “There’s nothing simple about it. She’s just being a child.”
“People will think she’s daft if they see her looking at puddles in the pouring rain.” Mabel sniffed.
“Oh, lots of people daydream, I dare say.” Ann shrugged her shoulders and walked out of the room. “But I’d better call her in. She’ll be soaked.”
Mabel frowned, shook her head, and went back to her ironing. “Doesn’t even know enough to come in out of the rain,” she said to herself.
Rockley
Nova Scotia
June 1872
When Mary was twelve, Ann had a second child. They named her Helen Mabel and called her Little Helen to distinguish her from Grandma Helen Hennessey in Merigomish. Now it was two months after the birth, and Ann wanted to get some sunshine on her face. She suggested that she and Mary take a walk to Bailey’s store.
“We need more flannel to make diapers,” she told Mabel. “We wo
n’t be gone long and the outing will be good for the both of us. Will you keep an eye on Little Helen, please? I’ve just nursed her so she’ll be all right for a bit.”
“Oh, I suppose so,” Mabel huffed, as Ann and Mary put their bonnets on.
But she didn’t mind.
This baby girl’s a beauty, and looks so much like Will, she thought. Once Ann and Mary left, Mabel picked up her grandchild and sang softly while rocking her back and forth.
Yes, she looked like her father, this one.
***
Fred LeFurgey was putting up a shelf at the back of the store when Ann and Mary walked in. He ceased hammering and got off the ladder to greet them. Calvin excused himself to wait on a customer and Mary wandered off to look at the hats. Fred asked Ann about her health.
“I can’t believe that Mary’s your daughter,” he added. “You look to be not much older than she is.”
“You’re very kind.”
“Kind nothing, just stating the obvious.”
Ann reddened and turned towards Calvin, who was back behind the counter. She placed a bolt of flannel down in front of him.
“I’d like two yards of this, please.”
Calvin snipped the fabric six feet from the edge and then, holding it tight, tore a piece of it off the bolt.
“That’s all for today,” Ann said. “Mary, you can carry the parcel home.”
“That’s too heavy for such a little girl,” Fred said, snatching the flannel away from Calvin and placing it under his arm. “I have my surrey right outside. I can drive the both of you home in no time.”
“There’s no need for that. We can walk.”
“I won’t hear of it,” Fred told her, tipping his cap and making for the door.
Calvin looked at Ann and shrugged. “Looks like you got a ride home.”
Hiram Reid opened the door as Fred, Ann, and Mary were leaving, and turned to Calvin with a smile.
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