Would I Lie to You

by Mary Lou Dickinson

  “I want to thank her.”

  “She wants to thank you.”

  Sue sighed. Layers and layers of tears lay beneath their words, but not the kind you shed easily. Later, in the wide double bed she no longer shared with anyone, she would probably start to shed them.

  “I’m going to call him. It’s too hard to wait and wonder.”

  Suppose Gwen met a blank wall or the fear she herself had encountered? “Yes,” Sue said. “I imagine it’s almost impossible.”

  “My kids want to meet you. What about after school on Friday?”

  “Um,” Sue said. “That would work.” Eager though she was to meet them, the thought of these children frightened her. Within the next few months she would have acquired four grandchildren. By the time she saw Gwen next she would also have taken the steps to change her name to Walters again. In a city like Toronto, with the constant intermingling of people, the glittering shop windows juxtaposed with those lost souls begging on the streets or sleeping over grates, it was hard to remember that once, long ago, she’d had a life that bore no resemblance to the present. The town where her daughter had been conceived was a frontier town with open and silent spaces. She could lie in bed then and hear the sound of blasting in the middle of the night or the distant wail of a train. She could hear the mine whistles and the bell at the cookery. And she could go out the back door and walk for miles into the bush and never see another person. She remembered the rock across from the house and the blueberries that nestled in its crevices. She used to fill a red pail so they would have blueberry pie for dinner. Maggie had looked at her furtively after Sue had come back from Toronto. It was as if Maggie knew that even though she was the older sister, Sue had now experienced something that had made her different.

  Sue, aware of her sister’s covert, puzzled glances, had wanted desperately to talk to her, but she had been afraid to give Maggie anything she might use against her. Not that Maggie had done that since they were much younger, but as a child Sue had learned that her older sister had the capacity to hurt her.

  “No discussion whatsoever,” their mother had said.

  Their father had said nothing.

  So, they had not whispered in the dark or talked when their parents had not been around. There it was, something that could not be missed, but everyone pretended that absolutely nothing had happened. And for a while, Wally had seemed annoyed that Sue had come back at all. It seemed that those months of her absence had been a blast for him.

  The telephone rang and Sue was relieved to hear Peter Marshall’s voice.

  “I meant to get back to you sooner,” he said. “But everyone has had the flu.”

  So it was something mundane in the end, not an evasion nor something to engender anger either.

  “You can tell Gwen to call me whenever she wants,” he said.

  “We talked earlier and she will soon. I gave her your number.”

  “What is she like?’

  “She’s a lovely person. You’ll find out for yourself soon.”

  “I’m nervous,” he said.

  His voice sounded familiar, like the boy she remembered. They had done only what many teenagers before and since had when sensations they did not understand overwhelmed them. Although today’s teenagers were different, no matter how much they knew, they could not know until it happened how the cravings of the body could surprise them.

  “I’m thinking of coming to Toronto if she’d like that. Would I be able to meet with you as well?”

  “Why not wait to see what comes of your conversation?”

  “I owe you an apology.”

  It was so huge to hear those words and yet so insignificant in the light of the secret she had carried for most of her lifetime that Sue did not know what to say.

  “I’d like to do it in person.”

  Sue had never expected to encounter him again or to have such an unexpected conversation. Coffee at a Second Cup or Starbucks? It hardly seemed like the venue for something so momentous. And how could she tell him what she was only beginning to realize, that having given birth to this woman now felt like one of the most important things she had done in her life? She regretted she had not been able to acknowledge her daughter nor to raise her. Yet here she was, a fully-grown and thoughtful woman.

  “So, I’ll be in touch,” he said. “After I’ve spoken to Gwen.”

  “Okay.”

  “My wife and children know,” he said. “It was a shock, of course, but they want you to know you have their support also.”

  Sue drew in a huge gasp of surprise she attempted to muffle. She had not expected to be touched and instead had been protecting every inch of herself from hurtful comment.

  “Thank you,” she said quietly.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  8.

  IN THE EVENINGS, bright red, green, blue, and yellow lights twinkled on trees and porches as the Christmas season approached. Occasionally, there were white lights only. The store at the corner had put up a fence between the sidewalk and a brick wall with Christmas trees poking out through the wire. One, Sue noticed, was tall enough that Jerry would have hauled it home and erected it in the living room in front of the window. He would have climbed up on a ladder to put the angel they had bought on its tip. They had seen the angel with its golden wings and a long gold robe in a store window.

  “Do you have another?” Jerry had asked because it seemed too high up on the very tallest branch of the tree to retrieve easily.

  “No,” the storeowner had said. “But I can put something else there and get the angel for you.”

  Sue did not think she could bear to get out the large box of decorations they had collected over their years together. She wanted to do something different. Something quiet, even though it was not the first, or even the second, Christmas since Jerry had died. It was, nonetheless, the first she would spend alone on Walken Avenue. The house had changed, but these holidays always evoked memories. She had hoped that Hans might invite her to the farm, but with Heather still there that possibility had dissipated. She wondered if later Hans would walk over after work if she called him.

  “Of course,” he said.

  Sue was mystified that she had not missed him these last weeks, probably because there had been such a flurry of activity for both of them. But suddenly his absence was so acute she had to see him. There was so much to tell him and she longed to feel his arms around her. She was grateful when he came through the light snowfall to her front porch. He carried yellow roses wrapped in light floral paper and when she opened the door, he practically lifted her off her feet with a big hug.

  “Oh, woman,” he murmured. “I’ve missed you.”

  “I’ve missed you.”

  He stood on the small piece of carpet inside the door and untied one dark boot, then the other, then put them on their sides on the boot tray.

  “Where’s your tree?” he asked.

  “I … I was thinking I wouldn’t have one. Or maybe a small one. I wondered about going to your farm, but it hardly seems likely since Heather is there again.” She was nervous bringing it up even as something that was not going to happen.

  “Farm is up for sale.”

  “Oh,” she said. “That must be difficult for you.”

  He nodded.

  “What about the animals?”

  “I’ll keep the dogs.”

  “You’ll keep the dogs.”

  “Yes, love. That’s what I said.”

  “But the horses?”

  “Heather will take them and board them somewhere. Actually, she already has.”

  “Will she keep them even when she’s in England?”

  “You know what? I didn’t ask.”

  “Oh.”

  “You sound surprised.”

  “I am.”

  “I don’t thin
k you believed it was over, did you? Even though I told you. But I can’t blame you for that. I might have been dubious myself in similar circumstances.”

  Sue wanted to ask if he had made love to her again, but did not.

  “I didn’t,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Whatever it was you were thinking.”

  “Oh come on, Hans,” she said. “Surely you can’t read my thoughts.”

  “Just an obvious thought,” he said. “Don’t worry, you’re not transparent.”

  Would an ordinary guy have been tempted to sleep with his soon to be former wife when he was as fond of her as Hans was of Heather? But she was not about to prolong that conversation. He seemed glad to be here.

  “Could I stay over?” he asked. “Otherwise, I’ll have to start thinking of leaving before this snowfall makes the highways treacherous. I can try to phone a fellow who lives in the village to feed the dogs and take them out for a run. Even if Heather is there in theory, she might not be. ”

  Sue wanted to ask why he had never called anyone to attend to the dogs before, but then thought he’d probably never thought of it. And was surprised to find she was not even sure she wanted him to stay. Already, in the time alone since Jerry’s death, she had taken on the habits of a single woman again. And was unsure she could cope with the big burst of exuberance of this man for longer than a few hours. He would leave the toilet seat up, turn the television on when she wanted quiet, and generally spin her life out of control. But she wanted him with her and could hear that intrusive judge telling her she would get used to it.

  Well, I do love him, she replied to the voice in her head. Well, get on with it then, the judge said.

  “Sure,” she said aloud.

  “I heard some hesitation.”

  “It’s the answer that counts, isn’t it?”

  She watched him make himself comfortable on the couch in the living room. He lifted the cup of herbal tea he had carried in from the kitchen and sniffed it.

  “Woman,” he said. “I’m crazy about you.”

  “Well, thank goodness,” Sue said. “Because you’ve grown on me.” She laughed. “The thing is, I’m crazy about you, too.” She was beginning to realize it would be possible to connect their two lives, rife as they were with long and complicated histories. It was time for change. It was time for risk again. It was not as if she lacked years of experience to fall back on. Wisdom, Maggie might call it. But you could still be foolhardy, even knowing better.

  “Maybe you’ll sing in the shower,” she said. “I’d like that.”

  “I do want you to come out to the farm,” he said. “I don’t want to be there at Christmas though. I was hoping I could spend it with you in the city. And that maybe once Heather has moved out we could go out for a few days afterwards. I think she might go to her daughter’s until she moves back to England. Or I hope she will. Then we could use the place. We could go skiing. How does that sound?”

  “As long as you don’t expect me to cook a turkey.”

  He laughed. “I’d like to cook a turkey,” he said. “I love cooking.”

  It was then the power went off and darkness descended. Out on the street, all the twinkling lights stopped flickering. It was also then that her whole life gathered in a crescendo and she could see she was not who she thought she had been any longer. Hans put his arms around her and drew her to him and while some part of her was frightened, she could not bear to be that other woman. The one who was hesitant and diffident, terrified of intimacy. No, she was not that woman.

  “How long since you’ve seen the northern lights?” he asked.

  “Years.” But rather than seeing them in her mind as he spoke, she saw formations of geese flying south in the autumn, the sky suddenly full with huge Vs and all around the sound of honking. She remembered being indoors, ensconced in some quiet corner, when she heard the signal of fall in that great flight. She had rushed outside and stood looking up. The northern lights were like that, too, the green and purple and white streaks — a sight that took over everything. There had to be sky unlit by tall city skyscrapers for it.

  “We could drive north some time and spend a night far enough up to see them.”

  This was what she loved about this man. He could take a dream and put her in it. Jerry had been like that with music. Some piece she barely understood would acquire beauty with his observations and his rapt attention.

  “Yes,” she said. “That would be wonderful.”

  The lights came back on and the telephone rang. She pondered waiting for the answering machine to pick up the message, but realized it might not after the power failure. Everything seemed impossibly bright. Glare jumped off the ceilings, the television screen. She had difficulty adjusting her eyes to make the transition. The telephone brought yet more interruption.

  “Sue Walters, please,” a man’s voice said.

  “Yes.”

  “It’s Peter Marshall again,” he said. “I know I should have told you I was coming, but I decided suddenly. I’d like to meet with you. And would you let Gwen know I’m here?”

  Gwen had made contact with Peter and they had talked enough to establish a link, but he did not feel he ought to call her without any warning.

  Sue could see Hans studying her, his eyes thoughtful. She never knew what he might know, although he had likely picked up something in her tone. Surely not that the next morning she would walk along Bloor Street to the neighbourhood coffee hangout and meet Peter, the father of her daughter.

  She hung up after saying she would do that.

  Hans remained quiet.

  “Well,” she said. “The father.”

  “That’s good,” Hans said. “I’ll take my things upstairs if that’s all right with you. I’d like to use the bathroom.”

  “Go ahead.”

  He had his own toothbrush now, a green one she had bought for him. He had not moved in, but it was a statement and they both knew it.

  *

  The next morning, Sue waited for Peter to come in the door across from where she sat in the coffee shop. Would she recognize him? Sometimes, after forty or so years, the younger face seemed to peer through whatever marks and wrinkles had changed it. At other times, she could not imagine where the friend she once knew had disappeared. The man who came through next was too young. Then there was a woman. After that, a man who made her start as she realized he was, unmistakably, Peter. His hair was now grey and receded slightly at the temples, but she still knew him right away. He wore large spectacles with black frames on his nose and he was slightly heavier across the chest and in the midriff, though he did not have the huge belly she had imagined.

  “Hello, Sue,” he said, coming over to where she sat on a stool at the window. “I’ll get a coffee and join you. I would have recognized you anywhere.”

  “I would have recognized you, too.”

  “Would you like anything else?” he asked.

  “Thanks, I’m fine for now.”

  He put his coat on the back of the stool next to her and went over to the counter. When he returned, he had a mug of black coffee and a scone with butter.

  “I called Gwen,” she said. “She’s expecting to hear from you today. She’s looking forward to it.”

  “Thanks.”

  As they sipped their coffee, both of them stared through the window onto Bloor Street where a procession of people walked by. One woman with grey hair and a large purse stopped at the window of a clothing store across the street and then moved on to the delicatessen next to it. The languages on the sign were English and either Polish or Czech. Sue did not know which. This Toronto had changed from the one of twenty and thirty years ago when she might have considered going out for fish and chips a treat. Now, you could eat anything you wanted from any part of the world and hear languages you could only guess at. Thai food was one
of her favourites, as was salmon cooked in the Native tradition with bannock on the side. One could develop eclectic tastes without ever travelling, although it often sparked the urge to travel. That, and seeing paintings loaned from some major collection in a far-off country, often made her contemplate the places she would like to visit. For a long time that had meant Europe, but of late, she had become interested in masks and there were so many cultures that created a variety of them. She thought it ironic that suddenly she had started a collection just at the point her own masks were being dismantled.

  “I wish I’d known,” Peter said. “I’m so sorry for what you had to go through.”

  “I don’t think you could have done anything. In those days, it was easier if no one knew. After a while, when no one talked about it, I almost forgot. I can’t now though. It comes swirling back as if it were yesterday.”

  “Where did you go? You were there one day and gone so quickly after. I wondered about you. Even so, I didn’t make any connections. I guess I was pretty naïve.”

  “All of us were. But you were a gentleman even then in some ways boys often weren’t. There weren’t any snickers when I came back so I figured whatever story my parents told about some illness was believed and that you didn’t say anything to anyone.”

  “A whole lifetime has passed without either of us knowing Gwen was out there.”

  “Well, I knew she must be somewhere, but I didn’t want to think about it. I buried it so deeply it was as if it hadn’t happened. I’m a widow, you know. I was married late and we didn’t have any children. I didn’t even tell Jerry, my husband, about the baby.”

  She could tell by the sudden narrowing of his eyes that what she had just said was inconceivable.

  “I’m deeply sorry,” he said. “You’ve had to live with this. For me, it’s a new discovery.”

  *

  Sue wondered what Gwen and Peter would say to each other. She had told Sue how much she missed her father since his death and Sue knew the parents she had lived with were her real family.

  “Not often that you get to choose exactly the child you want,” her father had told Gwen.