Remedy House

by Ruth Hay

  Faith did not want to admit that their clothes were often worn until they wore out and were replaced in a charity store. Paying for washing anything that could not be rinsed through in a sink and hung to dry overnight, was rare in her experience.

  “Get off upstairs now, Faith. We’ll say no more about this, but I trust you have learned a lesson. You’ll have a clean bed to sleep in and I suggest you tidy it in the morning before you come downstairs to finish the wash.”

  Honor expected the girl to flee immediately after another Mom-type lecture, but was startled to find she was still standing by the washing machine with a puzzled look on her face.

  “Aunt Honor, thanks for doing all this. I will take better care of everything, I promise. Can I ask you an important question?”

  “Yes, I suppose so. What is it?”

  Honor expected an inquiry about caring for clothing. She was unprepared for what came next.

  Faith was about to take a chance but she felt there was a new intimacy between them at this very moment and she wanted to capitalize on it before it evaporated again.

  “I won’t go into all the background to this question. Here’s the skinny. I am thinking of trying to find my father and I need to know any names you can remember from your schooldays with my Mom.”

  Honor’s heart stopped, then began pounding like a drum. She had been dreading this and hoping she would not need to delve again into the distant and unsettling past of her twin’s troubled youth.

  She walked slowly to her place of comfort, her desk chair, and sat down before her legs gave out from shock. Faith followed and pulled over the spare chair as if they were beginning a long, homework session. This topic, for Honor, would be much more akin to a excavation.

  Faith could see the colour drain from her aunt’s face making her red hair stand out in stark contrast. This was clearly an unexpected question. Should she take off now and forget the whole thing? It was basically a hopeless quest in any case. No need to trouble her aunt like this.

  She was about to push her chair back and leave with a swift apology when she heard a quavering voice and felt a hand reach out to pull her chair back into position at the computer desk.

  “Sorry, Faith! That was quite a surprise. I think I told you how difficult those years were. They were the last time I had anything to do with my sister. Since you appeared and filled in the missing years I have felt so bad about having escaped and put your Mom’s problems behind me with scarcely a thought.”

  “What happened to us wasn’t your fault, Aunt Honor. Mom was a dipstick addict. She never acted like other Moms. She left me alone at night for years in bad places. I am beginning to understand how wrong all that was. She couldn’t have loved me at all.”

  “No, no, Faith! Don’t blame her. She did her best under the most difficult circumstances imaginable. She kept you with her instead of abandoning you. She must have worked nights to keep you both alive when you were too small to go to school. She loved you. She saved you although she could not save herself.”

  Faith‘s eyebrows shot up. This was a new way of looking at things. Ever since she landed at Harmony House her thinking had been turned upside down over and over again. This was just one more in a long line of mental adjustments reversing her beliefs about all she had known previously.

  “Wow! I’ll have to think about that. Do you want me to leave now?”

  Honor had to stop herself from saying “Go now, please!” It would be an easy escape but this question was not going away that easily.

  “I can’t promise to remember anything useful for your search, Faith, but it’s your right to want to know your father. I’ll think back to our schooldays and see what I can uncover. It’s a time I put behind me a long time ago. For your sake I will try my best.”

  Faith was touched by the sincerity in her aunt’s voice. She had not calculated how much one simple question could upset a grown adult’s equilibrium. Honor Pace was obviously shaken.

  Faith rolled forward and picked up her aunt’s hands from her lap. She had no idea what to say so she just squeezed the hands tight for a second and ran to the elevator to escape before she became too emotional.

  If this was an example of what a search for a name could do to people, she would be glad when her aunt reported that she remembered nothing of use from those far off days. This whole crazy idea could be forgotten. There was already plenty to do in the coming year at school. She would just have to think up a different computer project.

  Chapter 6

  Despite all her protestations to Jolene and the effect on her aunt, Faith could not help being obsessed with the Finding Father project. Jolene phoned or texted several times a day to check on progress and although there was literally nothing to report, the matter grew in proportion to the lack of information.

  Even when she was stocking shelves in the store or watching over the older boy while his mother cared for his baby brother at the neighbour’s house, a portion of her mind was involved with this new dimension to her life.

  What if?

  There were many versions of the answer her mind supplied. She tried to screen them out but they swung back relentlessly. First among the diversions was Jolene’s vlog idea. For some reason it appealed more than the actual search. The girls in the J.J. gang often spent hours avidly watching teen vlogs, the video version of printed messages. These were focussed on fashion and make-up tips or on relationship problems. No one of their age was presenting a serious real life matter like finding an actual father.

  She began to speculate on how this could be done. Her smartphone or tablet could be set up on a stand for a video which could be uploaded to YouTube. IF she ever decided to do this it would need to be completely secret. She could not even imagine the embarrassment if Vilma or Mavis or, God Forbid, Hilary, walked in on her while she was recording or heard her speaking through the door.

  This dire consequence made her wonder if there was a completely private and secret place in the whole of Harmony House where such podcasts might be made. That was a diversion in the realm of fantasy and proved to be light relief requiring nothing more than a scout around the house on the pretext of looking for someone.

  She quickly discovered all the rooms other than the winter dining room with the large television, were in constant use. The latter was used more in the coming winter months so, although it was close by, it was not a long-term solution.

  Next she thought about the garages and wandered over there to check them out.

  The two double garages were reserved for the three cars with the remaining space devoted to the covered cart that was wheeled back and forth to the house with groceries. The single garage was packed to the roof with an assortment of stored items such as Christmas decorations and gardening equipment.

  She imagined carving out a little corner at the rear, among the boxes, where she could crouch down with her tablet but that would be uncomfortable, liable to be interrupted, and definitely too cold in the winter.

  No problem! Forget it! It was a stupid idea anyway.

  She was walking back to the house from the garages when she noticed how tall the one big tree in the side yard had become. It was as tall as the tower. She stood under the tree and looked up. For the first time she noticed there was a peaked and tiled roof on the tower with six distinct sides. Directly under its roof gutters was a circle of small, rectangular, slit windows. She wondered why there would be windows in an inaccessible part of the tower that must be well above the bedroom where Hilary slept. It was likely a cute, purely decorative touch by the designer for the top of the tower.

  But what if it wasn’t inaccessible? What if she could find a way into that neat hexagonal room and claim it for her own?

  She studied the tree branches with a practiced eye. More than once she and Mom had escaped from rent payment by climbing out of an upper window and down a sturdy tree after throwing their belongings ahead of them. This tree had a spilt trunk fairly low down. She could climb up there and se
e if the top branches would hold her weight.

  No sooner had the thought occurred than she was hopping up the trunk, using her rubber-soled track shoes for grip. The branch that leaned furthest toward the tower became thinner too quickly but a lower offshoot provided a better look at the tower top and its windows. There was a gap of two or three feet between the branch and what looked like a trellis or unfinished frame for a future window, projecting from the side of the tower and leaning on the roof of the covered porch.

  Her mind sped through the possible options.

  Climb up on the porch roof and use the frame to reach the tower room?

  Jump from the tree to the frame and hope it was solid?

  Find a way to reach the tower room from inside Hilary’s bedroom?

  Before she could seriously consider any of these crazy-sounding options she was stopped by the problem of actually getting into the small room. It was entirely possibly that it was a decoration only.

  It was never intended to be occupied. The puzzle of why the builder would go to the trouble of placing the small windows in there still niggled at her mind.

  What if?

  She settled her legs across the branch, held on to a higher branch and studied the top of the tower again. From this perspective she could see the windows and she could clearly see that there was sunlight coming through some of them. They were real windows, not some inserts of coloured glass just for effect.

  Suddenly she spotted what looked like a hinge under one of the windows slits. She blinked several times to clear her vision and saw an entire hexagonal section facing her looked like it was intended to be opened up. It was a small opening with no sign of a handle. It was directly above Hilary’s windows but once inside there should be enough head room for comfort.

  It could be a secret room for secret doings.

  A smile spread across her face and her heart beat a rhythm of excitement.

  She would try to get up there. She would see if there was, in fact, a room she could use for a vlog or other secret things away from the busy household.

  She had no clue how to get there in safety but she would think about it.

  She would definitely think about it.

  Just then, a figure passed in front of Hilary’s windows and she froze in place. The leafy branches would conceal her but she did not move until the figure disappeared from sight.

  Yes, there is Hilary Dempster to consider. That observant lady is not easy to bypass. Add that as number one problem in my growing list of items related to the crazy Finding Father project. It’s something Jolene will be unable to deny when we decided to drop the whole thing.

  She checked around her as far as she could see, then quickly climbed down the tree and brushed off pieces of bark from her shirt as she walked along the path to the front of the house with her head down.

  * * *

  In the middle of the night, Faith woke with a start, remembering that she had seen a ladder leaning against the back wall of the single garage. She turned over and went back to sleep with a smile on her face.

  After two hours of trying to concentrate on her work, Honor Pace gave up and poured a cup of strong coffee, taking it out to the stone patio and settling into the soft cushions of the largest lounge chair. The crisp air this morning smelled of fall. She pulled her sweater closed and sipped the hot drink.

  Mavis waved when she saw her and then returned to her task of clipping back dead or diseased branches. The snip, snip sound made a backdrop to Honor’s thoughts.

  It was time for Honor to take seriously her niece’s request. If she was unsuccessful she would be able to face Faith with an honest answer. The honest answer would come only after an honest attempt, however, and it was time for that exercise.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, letting it out slowly until her lungs were empty. The next indrawn breath took her back to the years in Hamilton. The school, the church, the house, the room shared with Felicity where the sisters were able to drop all the outer propriety of their lives and tell each other the truth.

  Although they went to the same high school, they were in different streams for classes. Honor worked hard and immersed herself in everything technical she could find, spending hours reading about emerging technologies and absorbing anything related to Google and Silicon Valley.

  It was always difficult to keep track of Felicity. They left the house together in the morning and walked to school together but after they entered the building Honor was never sure where her sister went. Often she was absent for all or part of the day, avoiding detection by choosing which classes to miss; mostly the ones where teachers were lax with attendance records.

  Felicity would cheerfully admit this to Honor and encourage her to do the same. Honor knew enough about her twin to realize this path was not going to lead to freedom. Freedom from home and its restrictions was an ultimate goal for Honor, not the temporary fix Felicity craved.

  During lunch times it was occasionally possible to see Felicity with the crew who sat at the table in the corner farthest from the cafeteria counter and farthest from the teacher on supervision duty.

  They were noisy and messy and dressed in weird outfits with rebellious slogans on T shirts, forbidden in school, and worn inside out until lunch when they arrived from the washrooms having quickly reversed them for all the law-abiding students to admire.

  Honor tried to remember the names of that crew. The tall basketball player was Brad or Bart or Bernie.

  She could probably discount the Mexican kid who left the school after a couple of terms. She remembered the girls, but not one of them finished high school. The chubby boy who always wore the baseball cap backwards had some unusual name………..maybe Morton or Martin? They called him a crazy nickname most of the time.

  None of the crew had looks that were any use in identifying who might be Faith’s father since she took her appearance from her mother almost exclusively. It was only names she was interested in. What use were these names when the last names were unknown or long forgotten by Honor? What use was this futile exercise?

  She took another sip of rapidly-cooling coffee and tried again.

  Think! Who else did Felicity talk about?

  An unforgettable night in their bedroom jumped into Honor’s mind. It was a night that ended badly, and a painful memory, but it must have held a clue to her sister’s future behaviours.

  To reconstruct that night, she had to revisit the bedroom upstairs in the old house. It was small for two growing girls. The twin beds were about eighteen inches apart to leave room for a shared desk against the wall. The double closet was continually in a mess of clothes and shoes and books and backpacks.

  The walls were papered with posters of the latest film stars and pop idols. The window that looked into the yard of the houses behind them was always propped open so Felicity could sit on the window sill and puff smoke outside into the locust tree. The room held the lingering tobacco smell and the aroma of sweaty gym shoes and cast-off underwear. Their mother refused to clean the room, saying if they wished to live like pigs she was not going to clean up the filthy pen for them.

  Other than for sleeping, Honor preferred to work after school at the library. She hated the mess.

  It was the messy room that started the whole argument!

  The sisters batted the usual insults back and forth across the room at full volume until their father hammered on the door and told them the neighbours could hear every abusive word. He ordered them to stop at once.

  Immediately after the momentary lull that followed, Felicity began to spew out all her hatred and disgust for parents and teachers and society in a low, defiant tone of voice that only Honor could hear. It was an awful tirade against everything Felicity felt was responsible for her boring life.

  At first, Honor was relieved she was no longer the focus of all this anger, but soon she heard alarming signs of how far Felicity had drifted from the life her sister thought of as normal.

  Felic
ity was smoking things other than tobacco. During the day she was going to the empty house of a Derek somebody who was not in school. He had promised to introduce her to cronies who also hated school and worked occasionally for friends to get enough cash for alcohol and drugs. Felicity swore she was going to run off with Derek and Russ, who was eighteen and had a van. They would sleep in the van and travel across the country together working when they needed more supplies and doing whatever they wanted with no adults ruling their lives.

  Honor remembered the horror she had experienced when she heard this outpouring of venom. She pleaded with her sister to stop and think what this would mean, but Felicity was adamant. Nothing was going to divert her from this golden path. The plan was in place and soon she was leaving everything in Hamilton behind her. Everything and everyone.

  Eventually, Felicity ran out of steam and she collapsed in tears on her bed. Honor lay for hours staring at the ceiling where patterns of frond-like leaves flickered through the moonlight. She was struggling with her conscience, with her fears for her twin, with sympathy for her pain, with anguish that she could do nothing to change the situation. It was too far advanced for her to intervene. This was serious.

  After several tortured hours had passed, she did the unforgiveable. She went downstairs to write a note her parents would see first thing in the morning.

  * * *

  The coffee was now cold but it was warm compared to the feeling in Honor’s heart. She was chilled through and through. She could never tell her niece about this incident. It would remain locked away where it should have stayed. Faith would have every right to accuse her aunt of orchestrating most of the disaster which caused her mother to die so young. It may or may not be the truth, but Honor was not in a position to argue. She could not defend her actions.

  Work was impossible now. Her head was filled with remorseful thoughts and her hands shook from reaction to the effort to remember what she had hidden away for so long.