The Liars

by Ida Linehan Young

  Neither one wanted to sound too eager to go. “Whatever you say, Momma,” they both said in unison.

  “We could use the money, Belle. There are lots of floaters out of Twillingate. They wouldn’t even need to go ashore in Labrador. The boats go up north and come back. The girls are handy at the cooking and at the fish.”

  “I’m not saying yes, but . . . what would I do here with you two gone?”

  “Lucy can make bread as good as any,” Nancy said.

  “She can do the washing, too,” Irene put in.

  “See what you can find out, Cyril. Maybe nobody’s looking.”

  “They’re looking, all right. Pearce at the custom house said he knows of five who are in desperate need. All the men will be at the fish. Nothing left for them only to hire women.”

  Belle looked from Nancy to Irene. “I’m not saying yes just yet.”

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  The next day, she did. Nancy was looking forward to a great adventure with Irene. Trouble was the cabin turned out to be a bunk behind a curtain. The hours were long. She had to gut the fish when she wasn’t cooking or cleaning dishes. Although she didn’t see her sister for the few weeks they were gone, she later learned that Irene had it worse. To add to her misery, she was seasick.

  But after the first trip, staying home and making bread wasn’t as agreeable as she thought it would be. Irene moved to a larger schooner, where she fared much better. That one landed in Nain, where she met Paul. Irene was smitten. During the last trip of the fall, Irene stayed in Labrador, married Paul, and moved to Zoar.

  Nancy followed her the next spring after spending a winter being chased by Archie Barnes and listening to her father’s tirades about Labrador. Their father had been livid over Irene’s choices and refused to let Nancy go the next spring. He had insisted she accept Archie’s offer of marriage. He told her she wouldn’t get one better.

  Nancy got aboard the first schooner heading north and didn’t look back. She stayed with Irene, and that led to her relationship with Paul’s brother.

  Nancy, now Alice, drew in a long breath. Look how that had turned out for Philip. Thanks to Ezra, she’d lost a husband. She took a big gulp of air to suppress a sob. Maybe she’d lost Irene, too. The constables said they didn’t know. Although she hadn’t seen her sister in years, Alice considered Irene the only family she had besides Beatrice and John.

  She didn’t know when John had become family. She didn’t believe she had loved Philip. Not like Irene had loved Paul. She had to marry him or she’d have nowhere to go. Nancy liked spending time with him, and he was good company in the beginning. In many ways they grew up together over the two years they were married. Although she was sad that he had died—and because of how he had died—she chose not to dwell on their life together. She took care of what needed to be taken care of when she left Zoar all those years ago.

  Alice wasn’t quite sure how or why John MacDonald had followed her. He was kind enough. He’d saved her from the bear. She thought he would leave her in Hopedale, but they spent the night there in the woods in an abandoned hut on the outskirts of the town. The boat had tried to reach the settlement but failed to break through the heavy sea ice. They would have to go on to Makkovik where the boat was located—another day by sled.

  She overheard the merchant tell John that there had been a lot of thievery and unsavoury characters on the coast and that he hadn’t seen it as bad as he had in the last two years. He said it was getting such that he couldn’t trust anyone. John asked a few questions, bought some provisions, and had been quiet the rest of the night.

  When they arrived at the store in Makkovik, she recalled, John refused to take her money for the ticket.

  “I have money,” John said.

  “Yes, but it’s not mine,” Nancy replied.

  “You will need it more than I will.” That led her to believe that he wasn’t going—not that she even thought he would. They entered the store and overheard a crowd talking.

  “That’s right, Ike, isn’t it?” asked one man.

  “Yes, Norm. Hard to say who is good and who is up to no good,” Ike responded.

  “You take Lindy, now. If he had sold his fish to that first bunch that came along, I’d say he’d be wiped out last year.”

  “Good thing we got word that there were fellows taking off with the fish and not providing any supplies,” Ike went on.

  “Imagine that,” another man cut in. “Hard to trust those merchants to do right by us, but now that the pirates are around, it’s hard to trust anyone. You heard me, they’re nothing but a bunch of pirates.”

  “You’re right, Will. Look at what happened there on George’s Island. That had to be pirates, or unsavoury characters, at best,” Norm said, nodding.

  “Something shocking, that was,” Ike said. “Terrible.”

  “They says there was a fellow got clear,” Norm said. “Did you hear that?”

  “Word came down that fall from Indian Harbour, I believe it was.”

  “I believe you’re right, Ike.”

  “Don’t say we’ll ever know, I allow.”

  “I suppose you’re right.”

  “Can I help you, sir?” the storekeeper asked as he twisted to see over the men who stood between them.

  The others moved aside to let John through, mumbling their apologies.

  “He could be one of the pirates, right there,” Ike said in jest.

  John stiffened. He stopped, turned to Ike, and stared at him.

  “That’s enough, boys,” the storekeeper said. “They didn’t mean any harm, mister.”

  “No, sir,” said Ike. “Just flapping our gums, that’s all.”

  John nodded and walked to the counter.

  “Seen you around a few winters ago, I believe,” the storekeeper said. “You’re usually farther north.” John didn’t respond but just stared at the man. When he realized John wasn’t going to answer, he looked past him toward Nancy. “How can I help you?”

  “Do you sell tickets for the boat?”

  “Yes. Do you want one for you and one for the missus?”

  John turned back toward Nancy. He paused for a few moments before taking money from his coat. He nodded and asked the price.

  “I have dogs and a sled that I won’t be needing. Can I get a fair price?”

  They bartered back and forth before settling on a price that was agreeable to them both.

  John left the store and offered Nancy a ticket on the way out. They walked to the dock in silence and boarded the boat shortly after noon. She didn’t ask why he was going, and he didn’t offer. A few days later, after some anxious moments for her trying not to be seen in Twillingate, they ended up in Gambo. There was only one room available at the hotel. The clerk signed them in as Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald.

  They had known each other for almost eight days, and most of those had been spent in silence. She had become Alice to him and to everyone from then on. The next morning, they left Gambo to head to St. John’s. The boat made a stop in Conception Bay, and John seemed like he was desperate to get off the ocean and onto land. They caught the train in Harbour Grace to go to St. John’s. She hadn’t seen a train, but she had heard talk of the railway in Twillingate and Ragged Head a few summers before.

  The events of that day had changed their lives and led them here, and somewhere along the way, Alice had come to love John MacDonald. However, he hadn’t known her secrets, and she was sure she didn’t know his. They had Beatrice, and that seemed to be enough.

  She remembered it well. When they arrived in Whitbourne, they were told the train was going to be delayed and that they could get off. Her mind was tossed.

  There were so many people milling around at the station and on the streets. Alice didn’t know that the ruckus and the crowds were there for a special occa
sion and that the scene before her wasn’t a normal day for the train. There were bands and speeches because the town was renaming the stop from Harbour Grace Junction to Whitbourne. This meant nothing to her, and standing there in all the commotion with the excited crowd on the wooden platform, she had, for a brief moment, forgotten her troubles. That was when the priest came up to her.

  “Are you travelling to St. John’s?” he asked. His voice was high-pitched. The fidgeting and his knitted brow told her he was troubled. A baby was crying loudly in the basket he was carrying.

  Alice didn’t know how to address him, so she merely said, “Yes.”

  “Could I trouble you to mind the baby while we travel. I’ll pay you. The lady who was supposed to come with me hasn’t shown. All this noise is bothering the baby.” The priest was pushing the basket toward her.

  “Maybe she is here in the crowd,” Alice stammered.

  “I don’t think so. She was supposed to be here yesterday. All the hotels are booked for this.” He motioned to the crowd. “I don’t think she’s here.”

  Alice moved to take a peek at the baby. “Do you have diapers for her? She’s probably wet and hungry.”

  “I don’t know,” said the priest. “The other lady would have looked after that for me.”

  “Did you feed her?”

  “I suppose she was fed when I got her,” he said. “How often would she eat?”

  “When did you get her?” Alice asked. John came to see what was going on.

  “Early this morning.”

  “And you haven’t done anything with her since?”

  “No. Should I have?” asked the priest.

  “Let me take her,” Alice said.

  The priest laid the basket on the wooden walkway and pulled money from his coat. “Here, get what she needs at the store,” he said. “I don’t normally do this, as you can tell.”

  Alice picked up the baby first. Her blanket was wet right through.

  “Oh, you poor little thing,” she said as she laid the baby on her shoulder. The infant squealed louder. Alice jockeyed her up and down and made cooing noises. She took a wad of money from the priest, who looked like he would have given her anything to take the baby. With John at her heels, she entered the store. The baby couldn’t be consoled. She went to hand the bundle to John, but he refused to take her.

  “I need diapers and milk and bottles,” Alice said, pushing money toward him. He looked from the money to the baby and back again. Reluctantly, he took the baby from her and awkwardly held her away from him.

  “I might hurt her.”

  “You will if you hold her like that,” Alice said. “Here, put her in the crook of your arm instead of in your palms. The baby will feel the comfort.”

  “Are you sure?” John asked as Alice fixed the baby on his arm.

  “I’m sure.” She paused for a moment before finishing. “I’m second-eldest of ten.”

  Alice raced off to the counter in search of supplies. The storekeeper, a lady twice Alice’s age, told her to take the baby in the supply room to change her. “It will be quieter for everyone if you’re in there,” she said with a grin. “I’ll get some warm water for the milk.”

  Before long, Alice found out the baby definitely was a girl and that she was soaked through her clothing. One of the blankets had words on it. She hid that one from the storekeeper when she brought the milk. Alice sat on a sack of oats and watched the child gulp down the warm liquid. She coughed a few times when she drank too fast, and Alice burped her. She picked up a few more dry blankets to swaddle the child before she returned to the platform. The train whistle blew, and the priest rushed toward her.

  “I beg your pardon,” he said. “I need to know if you can watch the child on the train before I can get on.”

  Alice wasn’t quite sure why he would ask, but she looked at John. He nodded, and she agreed.

  The priest reached for John’s hand. “Thank you, mister,” he said.

  “MacDonald. John MacDonald.” John shook the man’s hand.

  “Well, Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald. You have saved me a great deal of trouble.”

  Alice held the baby in her arms while on the train. The child kept her mind occupied, and for once she didn’t have to think of Philip or Ezra. She just had to think of this little one.

  “What’s her name?” Alice asked.

  “I didn’t know it was even a girl at first,” the priest replied. “The mother didn’t want the child.”

  Alice thought she felt John stiffen beside her, but she couldn’t be sure.

  “What’s on this blanket?” Alice untangled one of the wet layers that had been closest to the child and held it up to him. John took it from her and spread it out. He carefully held it between fingers and thumbs so he would have the least amount of contact with the wet material.

  The priest inspected it from the seat facing them. “This is Beatrice, she was loved,” he said. “Hmm, so her name is Beatrice.”

  “Beatrice,” Alice said. “What a beautiful name for such a little angel.” She rocked the child and cooed to her, whispering her name over and over again. John just looked on.

  The priest didn’t engage in conversation until they were getting closer to Holyrood. “Are you in a hurry to get to St. John’s?”

  “Not really,” said John.

  “I’m wondering if you would consider staying in Holyrood for the night.” He looked anxiously from one to the other. “I will put you up at Veitch’s Hostel and get your train tickets for tomorrow. I’d be extremely grateful.”

  He reached in his jacket pocket and pulled out a small blue velvet bag. Once he opened the bag, he offered John money to cover expenses for the bed and meals for the night. He took some extra bills and handed them to Alice. “You can get the child whatever she needs with that,” he said.

  The priest began to pull on his collar and fan himself as the train slowed to a stop in Holyrood. The light streaming through the window showed a sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. He stood up and staggered before he grabbed hold of the rail on the back of his seat.

  When Alice rose to follow the priest, John collected the basket from the rack above them. Alice noticed the holy man had left the blue bag behind and pointed it out to John. He picked it up and followed the priest, who had already stepped down on the platform. John turned, she guessed, to see if she needed help with the baby. Suddenly, a commotion outside drew their attention, and moments later, they looked down upon the struggling priest, Alice saw John slip the blue sack into his pocket.

  Somebody called for a doctor. Another directed the surrounding crowd to move him to the hotel. John helped, and Alice followed.

  The train left, and they waited. The unlikely duo had grown by one in a matter of a day. People referred to them as Mr. and Mrs. MacDonald. The priest succumbed to his illness and was sent to St. John’s on the train the next morning. There was a car for his body, accompanied by some pastoral members of the church who had shown up to escort him.

  They waited two more days before realizing that nobody else was coming for the baby. By this time Alice had grown so attached to Beatrice, she knew she wouldn’t give her up. Looking after the baby helped her forget her troubles. The Veitches told them about a farm, and it was settled. John paid a summer’s rent with the money from the blue bag.

  As quickly and as easily as that, they were man and wife and daughter to the outside world. Alice figured John would tire of it, but he grew to love Beatrice as much as she did. Neither one had asked anything of the other. Though they’d shared a room on occasion for appearances, they hadn’t shared a bed. John hadn’t asked, and she hadn’t offered. She’d been tempted on cold, snowy nights in the winter, when she was particularly lonesome and yearned for the warmth of a man, but she didn’t want to lose what she had. She was afraid th
at if she tried to change things, they might change too much and she’d lose Beatrice.

  Alice didn’t know anything about Ezra, nor what happened to him, and she didn’t want to. She wanted to hide from her whole complicated past and not think about what she’d lost and given up.

  Her one attempt to let Irene know where she was had led to the downfall of her peculiar family situation and the fragile roots they had planted, as well as the possible death of her sister. It was conceivable that she would lose everyone that she cared about, all because of her selfish act.

  Erith joined her a short time later, drawing Alice out of her reverie. Several men from the harbour who had gathered outside came to move John. Once he was made comfortable on the bed that Erith had fixed up in the storeroom, Alice took Beatrice to see him. Danol had kept the child busy with the other children while the doctors were working on their patient.

  Beatrice cried in Alice’s arms as she gazed upon the man whom she knew as her father. Alice had been shocked when Erith told her what had happened when Erith was barely sixteen. She had been assaulted and became pregnant as a result. In spite of the circumstances, though she fell in love with her new baby. But in the end, Beatrice had been taken from Erith by her stepmother and given away!

  Alice told John about the situation, and somehow he seemed relieved. They both had taken a liking to Danol and Erith and shared a whole new outlook on them now.

  Who was she to cast judgment? Alice had to but look at her own life and all the mistakes she had made. Her doubt made her wonder if she should give Beatrice back to her mother. Maybe it was the right thing to do. But sitting here with the little girl snuggled in her arms, crying for the man who had been more of a father to her than most would have been, Alice didn’t care what she thought was the right thing to do—she simply loved the child. She hoped that would be enough.

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