by Kate Kelly
“I think they had quite the love story,” Phoebe says, looking at Ruby. “Didn’t you, Mom? You and Leland—remember how he’d dance with you in the kitchen, always asking you to sing?”
“What was the song he always wanted her to sing, Phoebs?” Francis asks, his voice lost in nostalgia.
“‘I’ll Be Seeing You.’”
“We have it here on one of the CDs.” Lisa flips through the small stack of cases lying beside the CD player in the corner. Busy looking for the song, Lisa continues, her attention divided but anxious to know the answer to her next question. “Did you guys love Leland? Like a father?” Lisa keeps her head down, her eyes still on the list of songs.
“Yes, I think we did. Didn’t we?” Francis answers, looking from Phoebe to Gary for confirmation.
“I loved him.” Gary nods. “I remember him more clearly sometimes than I remember Dad. And he loved us.”
“Yes, Leland loved us,” Phoebe answers, her eyes focused on the past.
Lisa, looking from one to the other, breaks the silence that has settled around the room like water. “What did Leland die of?”
“What is it with you and all these questions about Leland James, honey?” Gary asks, shaking his head in bemused frustration.
“I, I don’t know…” Lisa stammers. “Nan was talking about him, and it kind of piqued my interest, I guess.”
“Did you find the song yet, Lisa?” Francis asks. “The doctor said that the stimulation will be good for her.”
“Okay, here it is.” Lisa lines up the track and pushes the button.
The music fills the room like liquid honey, the first few lines thin and almost tinny as Lisa adjusts the tone. “I’ll be seeing you in all the old familiar places/ that this heart of mine embraces/ all day through…”
“Phoebe, are you crying?” Francis asks, moving to the windowsill and grabbing the box of Kleenex to hand to his sister.
“Yeah, silly me,” Phoebe answers, her voice hoarse with emotion.
“I think Mom recognizes the song,” Gary says with excitement. He walks over to Ruby and looks searchingly into her eyes.
Struggling up, as if from the depths of the ocean, Ruby’s mind clears. Her awareness sharpens with understanding, and suddenly she can identify who she is, where she is, and what is happening. The knowledge excites her. Words form as clearly as the music she hears, but they can go no further than her mind. Unable to articulate her thoughts, she lies back in frustration.
“Yes, Mom, that’s your song. Yours and Leland’s. Do you remember?” Phoebe says, her voice soothing, sensing her mother’s recognition and frustration.
My song and Leland’s, Ruby thinks, and my children. Yes, my children. I must tell you something. Ruby tries to force the words from her mind and into her mouth, but she cannot push them forward, cannot make the correct shapes or the right sound. Her efforts result only in a garbled, frightening croak of guttural noise.
“It’s okay, Mom. We’re here. It’s okay,” Francis says from beside Phoebe, his hand on Ruby’s arm in an attempt to calm her.
Francis. Ruby finds the word floating to the surface as she looks at her son. Then she turns to her daughter. Phoebe. There is more, more, she thinks, sensing the presence of others in the room. Turning her head and forcing her mind to concentrate, she finds Gary. Gary, I must tell you—you and your brother and sister.
“I think she recognizes you, Dad,” Lisa says above a whisper. Moving in beside Gary, she takes Ruby’s hand. “Nan, it’s me Lisa. Can you hear me? Do you understand what I’m saying?”
Lisa, Lisa. Tell Gary, tell Gary….
“I think she wants to tell you something, Lisa.” Gary watches his mother’s efforts and touches Lisa’s shoulder as Ruby stares at her granddaughter, willing her thoughts forward, forcing the sounds in her mouth to fall into recognizable words. The effort is overwhelming, and tears of frustration slip from her eyes, adding to her confusion and to the tension in the room.
“What is it, Lisa? What do you think she wants to tell you?” Gary asks, the anxiety in his voice spilling across the room as Ruby’s efforts disintegrate into nonsensical sounds, flailing motions.
“Lisa, honey?” Gary asks again. “What is she trying to tell you?”
Lisa turns to her father and smiles, a look of understanding and resignation on her face. Turning back to Ruby, Lisa lifts her grandmother’s hand again. “I don’t think she wants to tell me anything, Dad. I think she wants me to tell you something.”
“Tell me something? Tell me what?”
Lisa looks from her grandmother to her father and then to Francis and Phoebe, only steps away across the bed, their faces pinched with tension. “I think she wants me to tell all of you.”
“Tell us what?” Phoebe asks, her voice fearful.
“Well, I … we were talking all the way here. Nan was telling me stories from her life, you know, and I … I don’t know how to say this. This is her story. I don’t even know if it’s true…. I mean, maybe she was confused. The paramedic and the doctor asked me if she seemed confused and I said no, but maybe she was…. Maybe it’s not true. I’m just not sure….”
“What did she say, Lisa?” Gary asks, his voice level.
Lisa, quickly glancing at Ruby, turns to face her father, forcing her eyes to meet his intent and serious gaze. “She said that you, Dad, are Leland’s son, not Grandpa Grace’s.”
Unsure if her father has heard her, Lisa waits, afraid to repeat herself, but more afraid of the silence that has opened up between them, leaving only the slow, sad sound of the music bleating from the corner.
“Dad.” Reaching out to Gary, Lisa continues. “Dad, she was confused.”
Gary, feeling his daughter’s hand on his arm, its pressure pulling him back to the room , turns to Lisa and exhales a short, forced breath. Then he smiles from the corner of his mouth and turns to look at Ruby, whose frustration of moments ago has dissipated like mist in the morning, leaving her limp and lifeless, her eyes closed with fatigue.
“She was confused, Dad,” Lisa says again, leaning her body toward him, longing to ease the pain and confusion she recognizes in his subtle smile, a boy’s smile, lost and confused.
“No, Lisa. She wasn’t confused,” Gary says, moving to the closest chair and sitting.
“I don’t know, Dad. She told me this just before the stroke. I think she was confusing everything—you know how she gets sometimes. She was even confusing me with Aunt Phoebe.”
“No, Lisa. She wasn’t confused.”
“But how can you be so sure. You don’t know for sure, do you?” Lisa asks, her voice loud with the distress she feels.
“It’s true, honey.” Gary glances at his brother and sister, and then looks back at Lisa. “Sometimes you’re told something,” he shrugs, then blinks rapidly, “and as soon as you hear it, you know it for what it is: the truth. Maybe I always knew it. Deep down, maybe I always knew it.”
“Gary?” Phoebe asks, breaking the silence that hangs in the air. Her eyes search her brother’s face. “Gary?”
When their eyes finally meet, Phoebe continues, her voice soft with understanding. “Leland died of cancer.”
12.
“GARY, THIS DOESN’T CHANGE ANYTHING, you know. Well, except that maybe the doctors might have a better idea of what they’re looking for now.” Phoebe, struggling to decipher the emotions behind Gary’s gaze, looks up at Francis for support.
Francis, unsure what Phoebe wants him to say, or what Gary needs to hear, clears his throat. “Phoebe’s right, Gary. This doesn’t change anything. Except for the better.”
“Did you know?” Gary asks, looking at Francis.
“No.”
“But you believe it?”
“Yes,” Francis answers evenly. “But does it matter?”
“I don’t know.” Gary shrugs
. “I mean, it’s all in the past.”
“And the present is the past unrolled for understanding,” Francis quips.
“And that’s all it is,” Phoebe says, “an understanding.”
“You look like Leland, Gary.” Francis smiles, assessing his brother as if for the first time. “And you have his mannerisms.”
“So, why didn’t we know before now that he was my father?” Gary asks, his voice still distant. “I guess it’s true—the mind only sees what it wants to see.” He answers his own question.
“I wonder if he knew, if Leland knew?” Phoebe asks, looking at her brothers. “Did your nan say anything about that?” She turns to Lisa.
“Nan said that she never told him, but that she thought Leland must have known, just … as you all must have known,” Lisa answers, faltering, her eyes seeking out her father’s.
“I guess now we’ll never know for sure what she did or didn’t say.” Phoebe looks around and shrugs slightly. “And does it really even matter?”
“No, it doesn’t,” Gary answers, shaking his head slightly at the rhetorical question.
The milky blue afternoon light has bleached the room of colour, making contours and corners sharper and more distinct by contrast. Only Ruby—with her white hair and skin, the white sheet pulled around her—looks like she belongs, floating in suspended animation, above reproach.
“So, what do we do now?” Phoebe asks, leaning over her mother and pushing the hair from her forehead. “We are going to have to make some arrangement to get Mom home.”
Ruby tries to force out her words, her eyes focused on her daughter. She knows the meaning of the word home. She has been able to find pictures in her mind and to connect them to herself, to an emotion that feels like warmth, but language is beyond her. Her confusion and frustration bring about uncontrolled movements, and she shakes her head, her hands, her body.
“I know, Mom,” Phoebe says soothingly. “You want to go home.” She takes Ruby’s hand, her voice soft and gentle. “We’ll take you home as soon as we can. Don’t worry.”
Phoebe’s gentle manner calms Ruby, and although she cannot follow all the words, she understands that this woman is connected to her, will take care of her.
“We should find the doctor and discuss what our options are,” Francis says, placing his hand on Phoebe’s shoulder and watching Ruby, her eyes closing in sleep.
“I’ll come with you.” Gary nods, standing and looking at Francis before turning to Phoebe. “You should come with us. We have to decide together what our next steps will be.”
“Maybe I should just stay with Mom.”
“No, Aunt Phoebe, go with Dad and Uncle Francis. I’ll stay with Nan; she’ll be fine,” Lisa says, moving into the chair Gary has just vacated, her attitude one of serious vigilance.
“Okay.” Phoebe laughs. “I guess she will be fine with you.”
Music begins to play, soft and low, and Gary smiles, turning from the CD player. “That will keep you two company.”
The music is familiar and comforting, and Lisa relaxes into the chair, the thought of catching a few minutes of sleep a prospect she can’t pass up. Her fatigue feels bone deep. The room is warm, and although the chair is uncomfortable, Lisa begins to drift off.
“Lisa.”
“Dad!” She is startled. “Sorry, I must have dozed off for a bit. Where are Phoebe and Francis?”
“They’ve gone for lunch. We made arrangements with the hospital for Nan’s transfer, and everything is set up. They’ll move her tomorrow morning as long as her condition stays stable.”
“Well, that’s good news!” Lisa sits up and stretches out her arms, thinking about home, her apartment, Stephen.
“Francis and Phoebe went for lunch. I told them I’d stay with you. When they get back, we can go. We all need a break from this place.”
“That’s for sure,” Lisa says, smiling. Then after a moment, she asks, “How are you doing, Dad?”
“I’m fine, honey.” He takes Lisa’s outstretched hand in his and winks at her.
“Dad, I’m sorry it had to be me to tell you about Leland. Nan said she was going to tell you and Phoebe and Francis; it was the last thing she said to me. I just wish she had been able to. It’s her story to tell.”
“Well, now it’s told.” Gary laughs half-heartedly.
“How do you feel about it, Dad? Is it bothering you? I imagine it must be,” Lisa says hesitantly.
“I’m not sure how I feel about it. It’s funny. Part of me feels shocked and somehow cheated, while another part of me feels at peace.” Looking from Lisa to Ruby, his thoughts tumble through the years, through moments, impressions, searching for something—he’s not sure what—but something, some meaning. “I suppose we all experience life so differently, so separately. Every life is its own unique story, affected by other unique stories. But they’re stories that we can never really know, never really share. Words are just too inaccurate, too limited and feeble, and memory is too selective. So all we have are relationships, family stories that we all share, each one a piece of a kaleidoscope. When they all twist together, they reveal a picture. These are the stories that connect us, consciously or unconsciously. We can fight with each other and aggravate each other and never understand each other, but still we’re connected. I guess that means something, is worth something.
“I guess that’s life. Family.”
“We are all family. We always have been. Grampa Grace, Leland James, Ruby Grace, Francis, Phoebe, me. You and Jaclyn and her boys.”
“I’ve always liked the name Leland James,” Lisa muses, her voice shimmering in the early afternoon light, the music in the background playing out like a soundtrack to a movie. Gary, Lisa, and Ruby, each of them listens in their own way, connects to the music in their own way—Ruby enriched by her musical background, her experiences, her father, her memories of performing some of these same songs; Gary through Ruby; and now Lisa, through them all.
“Dad?”
“Yes?” Gary answers, the tone of his daughter’s voice causing him to look at her curiously.
“I have some good news to tell you. Well, I think it’s good news, I hope you do too.”
Gary gives Lisa his full attention, nodding for her to continue.
“Dad, I’m pregnant. I’m almost ten weeks pregnant, and I want to have the baby.” Lisa looks at her father, his dark eyes paling in the light. She rushes on. “You’re going to be a grandfather.”
“Wow.” Gary smiles slowly. “Does your mother know?”
“No, nobody knows. I haven’t even told Stephen. I was waiting to be sure, and now I am.”
“Wow.”
“Dad?”
“It’s great news, Lisa. Really, it is but I’m just a little overwhelmed.”
“Yeah, you must be. First, you find out that you’re father isn’t the man you always thought, and now you find out you’re going to be a grandfather, all in the same day.
“Yes, it’s a lot to get my head around.”
“But you’re okay with it all, aren’t you, Dad?”
“It’s life I suppose, my life and your life and your Nan’s life, and now a new life,” Gary says, looking from Ruby to Lisa. “And I think I’m okay with it all. I’ll have seven months or so to get used to your news and the rest of my life to settle into the other news. Leland was a good man and the only father I knew. And really, what does it change?”
“Well, it might change some of your answers on your medical questionnaire.”
“Yes, there’s that,” Gary says, nodding. “It might help fill in a few things.”
“And you’re really okay with being a grandfather?”
“I think it’s good news, Lisa and we deserve to hear some good news around here.” He turns to Ruby. “Did you hear that, Mom? I’m going to be a grandfather. Isn’t that’s gr
eat?” Gary laughs, pulling Lisa up from the chair and spinning her around.
“What’s going on you two?” Phoebe asks, coming through the door, a coffee in both hands, Francis following with two more.
“I just heard some great news,” Gary answers, the smile on his face pulling at the corners of his eyes. Draping his arm around Lisa’s shoulders, who nods and smiles, he continues, “I’m going to be a grandfather.”
Both Francis and Phoebe look from Gary to Lisa. “Congratulations, Lisa,” Francis says, placing the coffee down and pulling Lisa into a hug.
“Okay, okay, my turn!” Phoebe pushes them apart. “Congratulations, honey. That’s wonderful news!” Laughing, she hugs Lisa again.
Gary stands beside Ruby, beaming with a grandfather’s pride. When he speaks, his voice is raw with emotion. “Hear that, Mom? Lisa is going to have a baby and I’m going to be a grandfather.”
“And I think that’s just what the world needs, don’t you?” Phoebe says, moving beside Gary and looking at Ruby. “A little more Grace.”
Acknowledgements
I would like to thank Angie Littlefield, without whom this book would not be, thank you for your tenaciousness and your ever present belief in me. Thank you, Brenda Whiteman for your hours of interviews and insights in the house across from the theater. To Jill McArthur’s grandmother, Margaret Jean Irwin, ninety-two years young when I interviewed you, thank you for your time and perspective.
Like people, books sometimes fall into your hands when you need them the most, books like, The Lessons of History by Will and Ariel Durant; My Stroke of Insight by Jill Bolte Taylor; and Rum Running and the Roaring Twenties by Philip P. Mason.
I would also like to thank Luciana Ricciutelli, Editor-in-Chief, for her editing and guidance, and all those at Inanna Publications for their dedication and support.
Thank you also to, RC, who listened to each chapter I wrote.
Kate Kelly is an educator, singer/song writer, poet, and now a novelist. A mother of three, she lives and works in Peterborough. Kate is also a spoken-word artist and has competed nationally in Toronto and Montreal. She can be found on Youtube, performing spoken word, and a sample of some of her writings are posted on her blog: https://thesoulfulside.com. A Harsh and Private Beauty is her debut novel.