Winter Shadows

by Margaret Buffie

  “So what happened?” Blair said.

  I told her, trying hard to be fair, but knowing I was slanting it my way.

  “You challenged her again,” Blair said. “I know what she said was rather silly, but she was trying to be generous … in her own stilted way.”

  “Sounds as if you kind of like her now.” I sounded sulky.

  “Look, Cass, I don’t like or dislike Jean. I had an opinion when your dad married her. I’ve let it go. I was judging her based on my feelings of loss. I don’t know her.”

  “Well, I do.”

  “I want this to work for you. I hope you didn’t talk about living with me yet.”

  “Why?”

  “Okay. You did. I’m sure your dad was not thrilled with that.”

  “He’s says we’ll talk again, but basically, it’s a no go. I didn’t agree.”

  “I hope he doesn’t think I put you up to this to cause more problems.”

  “I don’t know what he thinks. He’ll let me know, of course.”

  Blair slouched back in her chair and rested her head against its pillow. “Nothing is easy when someone so well-loved dies. Your dad was inconsolable. He’s trying for a new, more hope-filled life. I can’t blame him. I’m just glad I feel Fiona around me. I didn’t for a long while. I’m sure you can feel her, too. That’s a comfort, isn’t it?”

  I stared at her. “You can feel Mom? How?”

  “I just sense her near. Sometimes I’m sure I can smell her favorite perfume, Je Reviens. Once I thought I heard her laugh, when I was singing. She always said I couldn’t hold a tune.”

  “You’re just imagining all that!”

  She straightened up. “Don’t you feel her? Are you upset I told you, Cass? Surely you, of all people –”

  “I don’t feel her, okay? And I don’t feel her because she doesn’t want me to. She wants to be near you because I broke my promise.…” There. It was finally out.

  “What are you talking about, Cass? Fiona could never be mad at you. Not in a million years. What promise could you possibly have broken?” She pushed a box of tissues at me.

  “The biggest one of my life. I –” My voice broke.

  “What?”

  Tears streamed down my face. I grabbed a handful of tissues and wiped them away. “I wasn’t there!” I cried. “I went to the store to buy her some ginger ale and met a girl from school. We talked, and I felt free for the first time in ages. I didn’t want to go back home – I didn’t want to see Mom huddled under the covers, packed with hot-water bottles, hardly breathing. So I went for coffee with that girl, and we talked about music and movies, and it was fun. I stayed a long time. But when I got home, Mom was already gone! I promised to hold her hand when she went. I promised to say good-bye. You and Dad were both crying, so I couldn’t tell you how I’d let her down. The stupid cans of ginger ale were still in my hands, and you guys are hugging me as if I’d done nothing wrong.” I sobbed into my hands.

  Blair hugged me. “Let it out, honey. Then I’m going to tell you something.”

  After a while, she left the room and came back with a hot cloth. I pressed it against my face. “Nothing you tell me will help. Nothing can.”

  She pushed back my hair. “Listen to me. Your mom would have completely understood what you did. She told me more than once that she hated you seeing her so sick. She often asked you to take more time for yourself, remember?”

  I sniffed. “I couldn’t take time out.”

  “She knew that. And you know what? I think she chose that time to die – so you wouldn’t have to see it. She’s with you. I know she’s all around you.”

  “But I don’t feel her,” I whispered.

  “Cass, have you ever thought that maybe you have been closing yourself off from Fiona? To punish yourself somehow? If you open yourself up to your mom, I know she’ll come. I wish you’d told me this two years ago. No wonder you fight so hard for her around Jean. Guilt is a terrible responsibility. Especially when you did absolutely nothing wrong.”

  “Didn’t I?”

  “No. Your mom made the decision for both of you. She’d be extremely upset to think she only made things worse. Maybe you need to forgive her. Maybe you’re mad at her for leaving you when you weren’t there. God, I’m sounding like my own shrink now.…” She laughed, sadly.

  I could feel the grayness lift a bit. We talked for a long time. About Mom. About Dad. And Jean. I told her about putting out Mom’s things and Jean’s reaction to it. She shook her head.

  “Do you still think that Jean was after Dad, even when Mom was still here?” I asked. “You said that to Dad.”

  She looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know anymore, honey. I was a wreck. He was a wreck. Jean always seemed to be around. I never really took to her, even when the local women would come and help out. There are some people you meet that you just fit with, you know? She and I don’t fit. She’s the exact opposite of your mom.”

  I nodded.

  “But I have to admit, I wasn’t fair to Jean. I didn’t look at her as a good thing for your dad because it felt like she was taking my sister’s place. I hated her for it. I don’t anymore.”

  I told her what I’d found out about Jean’s ex-husband. I didn’t tell her about Beatrice. Not yet. Maybe one day. Martin knew. That’s all that mattered.

  “It’s no wonder Jean’s trying to control everything,” she said. “Poor woman must be feeling pretty insecure. And if you’re always talking about how much your parents loved each other …”

  “I think Jean’s just a bossy cow. She hates Mom.”

  “Don’t hug this ideal vision of your parents’ marriage too close to you, kiddo. Your mom wasn’t an easy person to live with. You know that. She had her ups and downs and … well, your dad was always patient.” I opened my mouth, but she shook her head. “They loved each other a lot, but your dad has never had anyone looking after him, has he? He’s always looked after his older parents and then Fiona, keeping her on steady ground. She was a joy most of the time, but the down times were tough.”

  She was right. Mom had definitely been an up-and-down person. We used to argue, but we usually ended up laughing when it got out of hand because Mom’s sense of the ridiculous always kicked in.

  I smiled, remembering. “She called herself a Real Handful. She told me I was more sensible at thirteen than she was at thirty-five.”

  We talked about some of the crazy things she did, like making us all go vegan for weeks until Dad and I found her stash of pepperoni sticks behind all the veggies in the fridge.

  Blair put her arm around me, and we laughed. Afterward, she said softly, “Yeah … Fiona wasn’t easy to be around sometimes.”

  I nodded. “But I’d never tell Jean that!”

  “Don’t you think Jean offers your dad something he needs at this time in his life?”

  “You make him sound senile, with a helpful nurse on hand.”

  She sighed. “Cass …”

  “I don’t know if she is what he needs. I only know I don’t need her. We don’t fit together and we never will. It’s like she’s a fish and I’m an apple; she’s a tree and I’m a …”

  “Wood-boring little insect?” she said. We both fell over laughing.

  “Can I still stay with you if I want?” I asked. “If things … you know …”

  “You don’t ever have to ask me that again. That room upstairs is yours whenever you need it – if your dad agrees. All I ask is that you work out a deal with him that suits everyone, okay?”

  “I’ll have to think about that part,” I said.

  She left the room and came back with two bowls of lasagna. I noticed she didn’t eat much either. “I’m wiped. Ready for bed?”

  “I’m gonna stay down here for a bit.”

  She picked up the half-empty bowls and left. I snuggled back under the comforter and watched the flickering fire. For the first time in a long time, the air went deep into my lungs when I took a breath. I felt better abo
ut Mom and me, but I was so tired.…

  I woke up in the dim light to find the diary lying open on the coffee table. The conversation between Beatrice and Ivy was riveting. I had a better idea now why Ivy ended up so damaged. Maybe you should think about Jean’s past life, too, my inner voice said, but I ignored it. I read about Duncan Kilgour’s arrival – the painting of Beatrice for her grandmother and the lace collar for Beatrice.

  She thought she had put on the star brooch, only to find it missing from her dress later. Now I had it. Pinned to my pajama top. It was amazing that I was the one who found it in the old hearth. Wait! I knew why it wasn’t on her dress! She’d been wrestling with the spit, which must have knocked against her collar. If she hadn’t closed the clasp properly, the brooch probably flew into the hearth, landing on the tiny shelf where I found it. Then soot fell on it during the cooking of Christmas dinner, and no one found it.

  It was obvious she was in love with Duncan and didn’t know it. Did she and Robert announce their engagement that night? I eagerly turned the page. Nothing. All the rest of the pages were blank.

  37

  CASS

  I got dressed and made scrambled eggs, toast, and coffee for Blair and me. She came in just as the last piece of toast popped up.

  “There was bacon in the fridge,” she said, yawning. She was dressed for work, in jeans and an oversized plaid shirt.

  “I’ll make it next time. I called Martin. He’s coming over to drive me to Dad’s.” I couldn’t seem to call it home.

  “Good,” she said, pulling her hair into a ponytail with an elastic. “I sat in bed last night, making a decision, too. And then I acted on it.”

  “What was it?”

  “I called my ex, Tom. We talked for an hour. He’s moving back to Selkirk for a year to manage a friend’s framing and art gallery. There’s a small apartment above the shop, big enough for a studio. That way Tom can paint, but also make a living. He likes Winnipeg, but misses his friends here.”

  “Like you.”

  She grinned. “Yeah, like me. I told him I wasn’t off my rocker anymore. He laughed.”

  I guess my fear showed on my face because she said, “This won’t affect your being here, if that’s what you’re worried about, Cass. He knows about you. No … we’ll take it one day at a time. I’ll just be glad to see him again. I feel … ready.”

  I nodded, still feeling uneasy.

  “I mean it, Cass. I’m not rushing into anything. It will all be fine. Okay?”

  “Okay.”

  “Good. That’s settled.”

  We ate our breakfast. I tried to enjoy it, but knew what lay ahead at Old Maples. When Martin knocked, I reluctantly got ready for the drive to the guillotine.

  “Call if you need me,” Blair said, making sure I had my cell phone.

  Martin took my hand, and we headed to the truck. As we drove down River Road, the sun peeked over the line of trees across the river, spraying luminescent rays and throwing long shadows across the frozen white. A few cars lumbered past, the drivers wrapped in woolen hats and scarves.

  Old Maples sat solidly under its heavy rounded cap of snow. It had once been Beatrice’s beloved home. Would it ever feel like mine again? Maybe, one day, I’d live here with my own family, but for now it was Dad and Jean’s. Not mine. Not Mom’s. I left Martin listening to a CD and went in the back way to find Daisy sitting in the breakfast nook.

  “Jonathan’s still in bed. Mom’s in the living room. She said if you came home early to go in there.”

  “I’ll wait here until Dad gets up.”

  “No! You have to talk to Mom anyway, right? She wants to make things better.” Her cheeks were bright red. “Please, Cass? Just go talk to her.”

  “Okay, okay!” I edged down the hall. Jean was curled up on the couch in front of a snapping fire, wearing a bathrobe and slippers. Her hair was held up by a big clip. She looked softer – tousled and tired. She gave me a sketch of a wave.

  I didn’t say hi. I was too busy staring at a huge balsam tree beside the fireplace, a pile of boxes in front of it. The room smelled of melted snow, balsam, and smoke. The fake tree was gone. For just one moment, I hoped to see Beatrice standing there.

  “You okay, Cass?” Jean asked.

  Cass? Wonders never cease.

  “Your dad didn’t like the blue-and-white twinkle tree any more than you did.” She smiled. “It never really mattered to me what kind of tree we put up. We bought that hideous white thing when Daisy was small and used it for years, so I guess I put it up because it was something we always did. But I can see that you and your dad put great store in having a real tree.”

  “Are those boxes …?”

  “Yes. Your mom’s – Fiona’s – and your decorations. We found them in the barn. They’re all here. But I haven’t given up my tree altogether.” She pointed to the dining room, where I could see blue lights flashing in a far corner.

  I sat on the ledge of the fireplace and let the heat warm my back.

  “Cass,” she began, “I realize I’ve messed things up right from the get-go. Your dad tried to point this out to me time and again, but I just felt he didn’t understand my position or your attitude to me. But when Daisy took your side and tried to leave last night, it really hit me: I’ve made a mess of everything. I talked to Daisy. She says you’ve only been responding to me like you have because I don’t listen … because I’m someone with my own agenda.”

  I stared at my feet, not knowing how to react.

  She went on, “I fought for everything I got in the way of concessions or support from my ex-husband. Then after marrying your dad, I was so busy putting forth my position, I forgot that you and he needed to have input into how your home was run. If I’d done one stitch in time, I could have saved nine. My little joke.”

  I tried to smile. “What does that mean, anyway?”

  “It means if I was paying attention and fixed what was obviously becoming a problem right away, I could have kept us from making things worse for each other. When I made that announcement about the baby at the party, I think I was trying to avoid a clash between you and me by not telling you privately. Stupid, I know. I also knew your parents wanted another child after you and it didn’t happen. I should have been more sensitive.”

  I shrugged. “It’s done. No point in throwing the baby out with the bathwater.”

  She laughed softly. “Good one. But the dirty bathwater has to go, right?”

  “Yeah. It does.”

  “It won’t be easy, Cass. We’ve said some things to each other that will take time to heal. But from now on, we can maybe talk it over when stuff isn’t working.”

  “I’d still like to stay at my aunt Blair’s for a while. Come here weekends or something?”

  She nodded slowly. “I’m not sure Jon will agree. He’s got some issues with Blair.”

  “She’s ready to sort all that out with him. She’s a great person. The best. I want to spend time with her. And I think you, Dad … all of us … need some quiet time. I need to be by myself for a while. To think.”

  “I’m not trying to push you out of here, Cass. But you might feel more like coming home after you’ve been away for a bit.”

  “I have my own room there.…”

  She stiffened, but then said, “I took away your room from you, didn’t I? I wanted so hard to make this Daisy’s home, too. I thought it would be good for you two to share a room and get to know each other. She was so lonely.”

  “You wanted me to share for her sake though.”

  “You’re right. Daisy’s dad has remarried. A woman with four kids. He’s not interested in Daisy. I was all at sixes and sevens when we moved in here – full of anxieties. You see, I knew that if your mom … if Fiona hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have your dad in my life. Jon is the person I’ve waited for. You know, the one you hope will come one day. And even though I knew I was blowing it with you, I just kept on doing what I thought was right. But none of it was right. Was
it?”

  I didn’t say anything. She smiled sadly.

  “I know how much your dad loved Fiona. I think, because you look so much like her photographs, I felt threatened somehow. Jonathan adores you.”

  I was hearing an echo of Ivy’s words to Beatrice. I knew it took guts to say it. “But he loves you, too.” Surprisingly, my tongue did not fizzle into a burnt leaf.

  She sighed. “Yes. He loves me, too. I know that. Just differently. So … I can only try, Cass. I’ll make blunders again. But you must call me on them … if you can … by talking, not arguing.”

  “I’ll try.” I looked at her.

  She was blinking hard.

  “I think my being away for a while will help,” I said.

  “But you’ll come back for weekends, right? Daisy would miss you if you didn’t. She’s turned into your biggest fan. So watch out, she’ll be begging you for sleepovers at Blair’s!”

  For the first time, we smiled at each other.

  38

  CASS

  “Your poor dad woke up this morning with a beast of a cold,” Jean said. “I’ll just go and make sure he’s okay. And soften him up a little about your staying at Blair’s – if you want.”

  I nodded. When she came out and signaled to me, I crept into their bedroom and perched on the end of the bed.

  “Jean told me. So is this what you really want?” Dad asked. His hair was on end, his skin whiter than usual, the pale freckles splashed across his nose like bits of dark soot. He looked hot and irritable.

  “Yes. Just for a while.”

  “You’ll be here for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, no arguments.”

  Had he actually accepted what Jean said? “Of course I will.”

  “And when I’m feeling better, Blair and I will talk.”

  “She didn’t have anything to do with my decision, Dad. I asked her if I could stay. She never once hinted about my living there. And she won’t do it unless you agree.”