The Daughters' Story

by Cyr, Murielle;

  Denis lit a cigarette and blew the smoke out from the corner of his mouth. He stared down at the table and reached out to bring the ashtray closer.

  Paul sipped his beer and studied his son-in-law. He had proved to be a good husband for Janette after all. When she’d announced her intention to marry him weeks before Denis left for the war, Paul had tried to talk her out of it. A dinner invitation at the Pritchart home a week before the wedding told Paul all he needed to know. Denis’ father appeared to be a strict disciplinarian who ruled over his wife and sons. Janette had grown up under his mother’s care to be independent and resourceful. When she left Saint-Roch for Montreal to find work at eighteen, she wasn’t about to have anybody lord over her. Paul had worried about the possible clashes if Denis followed his father’s tyrannical ways. But Janette had taken it all in stride, going about her business without giving Denis’ family much thought.

  Paul had suggested they postpone the wedding until Denis came back from the war. Janette refused to budge. Timothy Pritchart insisted on an Irish Catholic ceremony at his local church. Janette put her foot down and they got married back in her Saint-Roch parish with Paul’s family. The Pritcharts didn’t attend. When Denis came back from the war, his left leg amputated below the knee, Nadine was already ten years old.

  “This has to be a first, Denis. Together like this. We never get a chance to talk man-to-man. You always find a reason to leave the house when I visit.”

  Denis cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck. “No offence, Paul. You and her always speak French together, and I can’t understand half of what you’re saying. Janette doesn’t mind. She hardly sees you, so she likes to have you all to herself.”

  Paul looked away, pensive. “You’re right about me not seeing her often enough. She grew up too fast for me to catch up with her.” He reached for his beer. “When you get to my age—especially after downing a few beers—you think about things you could’ve done or said better. Before the effect of this beer wears off”—he grinned—“I wanted to tell you that you haven’t been too bad of a husband to my daughter. Not half as bad as I thought you’d be. You’ve always treated her with respect and she’s never been without.”

  “Appreciate that coming from you, Paul. I couldn’t have done it without her after the war. She kept the bakery going by herself while I was in the trenches—and she had Nadine to take care of too. When I stepped off that boat I was too weak and depressed to do anything except handle the accounts. She handled everything else until I got my shit together.”

  “If I remember right… that’s when you switched her back to the kitchen—away from the customers.”

  “Yeah, well… it gave her more time to be upstairs with Nadine and Philip.”

  Paul threw his head back and laughed. “And out of the public eye. My daughter’s a beautiful woman. I remember how you’d rush out of your chair each time a male customer came in.”

  Denis gestured towards Paul’s unfinished beer bottle. “I’ll finish that up if you’re not drinking it.” He filled his glass and waited to drink some more before commenting. “You know, Paul. Between you and me. I’ve never said this to Janette… but… I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be with me if it wasn’t for my leg.”

  Paul hesitated. “That’s something to discuss between you and your wife—when you’re sober, that is. Beer makes demons appear a hell of a lot bigger.”

  Denis stared down at his hands. “Better not. We probably couldn’t… go on… if it was out in the open.”

  “It’s not something I can decide for you. Not knowing works for a while, but the truth has a way of sneaking up on you.” Paul glanced at his watch. He hadn’t meant to stay this long. Denis was starting to slur his words. He’d drive Nadine home and head on back to Saint-Roch. “You didn’t look too happy about seeing Nadine. Is something up between you two?”

  Denis butted his cigarette and straightened in his chair. “What makes you say that?”

  “The expression on your face when I came back from parking the truck. Like you were ready to blow a gasket.”

  Denis raised a shoulder and looked away. “I don’t want her hurting Janette again.”

  “What makes you think she will?”

  “She disappeared on her twenty years ago, three months after Philip died. What do you think that did to Janette, eh?”

  “She was a sixteen-year-old kid with big problems.”

  “The only reason she came back is because you went and told her about the will.”

  “She doesn’t want the damn money.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “She’s supposed to sign a release from my lawyer saying she’s refusing the inheritance. I’ll believe it when I see it.”

  “Sounds like extortion to me. She hands over the money and she gets to see Janette. Then you’ll decide she’s taking too much of Janette’s time away from you. Same as when she was kid. She spent more time with your parents than she did at your place.”

  “Mother loved having her around. Janette had no energy left for me after seeing to Nadine and Philip.” He lit another cigarette. “Janette and I have been doing OK these past few years. She had started slowly getting over the loss of Philip and hadn’t mentioned Nadine in a long time. What do you know? Out of the blue, Nadine shows up. Who’s going to pick up the pieces when Nadine takes off again?”

  “You better get something in that thick head of yours, Denis Pritchart.” Paul pushed his chair back and stood up. “If I hear a word of you stopping Janette and Nadine from seeing each other, it’s going to be your pieces you’ll have to pick up. I’ve waited a long time to see Janette’s eyes shine like they did before, and I intend to keep them that way. I couldn’t do much for her when she was growing up with me working up north a good part of the year. But now that I’m thinking of retiring for good, you’re going to see a hell of a lot more of me around here—a hell of a lot more than you’d like.”

  “I’ve got something that belongs to you, Aunt Jan.”

  “Really? What can that be?” The two women were on their second cup of tea and had been talking nonstop at the kitchen table since Paul and Denis left an hour ago. The reason why Nadine had stayed away for so long didn’t come up. Nadine was grateful for Aunt Jan’s hesitancy to pry and resolved to wait for the right time to tell her. Aunt Jan sure had the right to know, but it didn’t have to be on their first reunion.

  Nadine held her breath before reaching into her handbag. Good thing Denis wasn’t there to witness this. Another weapon in his arsenal against her. His coldness towards her earlier had made one thing clear—he didn’t want Nadine back in Aunt Jan’s life. He never had. Thinking back, he hadn’t been any warmer with his son Philip. He had never mistreated him. But the only time Nadine had seen him show any tenderness towards him was during the boy’s last days at the hospital before he died.

  She pulled out a man’s black leather wallet from her bag and placed it on the table.

  Janette stared at it a moment, puzzled. “My God. You still have that old thing.” She looked up, beaming. “That belonged to your mother. I gave it to you… remember? You must’ve been around twelve at the time. I figured you were old enough to hear the story about your mother hitchhiking to Montreal from back east. That was the only thing I managed to salvage that belonged to her. Her story and her wallet. Grandpa Pritchart threw all her things in the trash before Grandma Stella and I had a chance to sort them.”

  Nadine shrugged. “The Pritcharts blamed her.”

  Janette stretched across the table and squeezed her hand. “Not everybody. I adored her. She was so beautiful and fun-loving. She didn’t deserve to die like that. Grandma Stella will never admit it, but I always thought she mourned Claire as much as she did her son.”

  “Do you remember, Aunt Jan, that nightmare I used to get where I’m all cover
ed with blood, and I’ve got a salty, metallic taste in my mouth and my lips feel sticky? Something heavy is pressing down on my chest and I can’t breathe. When I manage to wipe the blood from my eyes with the back of my hand, I see a woman lying on top of me. There’s blood spurting from her eyes and mouth and I start screaming. It’s weird, but I still get it every once in a while.”

  “How can I forget? It was a terrible thing for any young child to live through. You didn’t speak a single word for two months after you got out of the hospital. You wouldn’t let anybody touch you except for the times I slept beside you after one of those nightmares. Denis was overseas then, so it was just you and me. When he came back, you were doing so much better. Philip came along not long after… the poor child was always sick. My insides went dead when we lost him. And when you left a few months later and never came back… I saw no good reason to live after I lost both of you.” She reached for Nadine’s hand again and squeezed it. “No matter what everybody said, I always believed you’d come back to me. Just like your own daughter did. We’ll get together when she feels better. She has a lot of adjusting to do. It’s difficult for a child who hasn’t known love to accept that she deserves to be cherished.” She got up and headed to the counter. “Now put that old wallet away and I’ll bring out my pouding au chômeur. When Papa called with the news, I made sure to have your favourite dessert ready for you.”

  “Wait, Aunt Jan. I have to give this back to you now or I’ll lose my courage. It’s one of the reasons why I stayed away. I was so scared you’d stop loving me because of this.”

  Janette retraced her steps and sat down. “You don’t ever have to worry about that. You’re in my heart for good. You don’t have to tell me why you never came back. I’m so happy you’re sitting here in front of me. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to know. When you’re ready to talk, I’ll be here for you.”

  Nadine unfolded the wallet and paused. The shame she had felt had stopped her from setting things right with Aunt Jan after she left. The thought of writing to her had crossed her mind through the years, but Aunt Jan deserved better than that. She vowed to find the courage one day to tell her in person. The time had come. “I always envied the love you had with Papi. Sometimes I imagined I was his daughter and he loved me as much as he did you.”

  “Oh, Nadine. You’re the granddaughter he always wanted.”

  Nadine pressed her lips together. “Being his adopted grandchild wasn’t the same as being his blood family. If I was his flesh and blood, I could do no wrong. He’d love me no matter what. When Philip was born, I was a little jealous of him. But I got to love him so much. I understood why everybody made such a fuss over him. He was the real thing, not a pretend daughter like me.”

  “Pretend?” Janette straightened in her chair. “I hope I never made you feel—”

  “No, Aunt Jan. You and Papi were always so kind and loving to me. I knew you cared. I wouldn’t have come today if I wasn’t sure of that.” She unsnapped the coin section of the wallet and pulled the contents out, gripping them with her closed fist. “I remember you not wanting to make Papi sad when I was a kid. Nobody was allowed to mention your mother’s name when he came around. His love for her became sacred to me and I used to daydream of someone loving me like that too.”

  Janette nodded, pensive. “They had a special love, all right.” She raised her head to gaze out the kitchen window. “That doesn’t happen often… and when you have it, you’ve got to hang on to it, no matter what.”

  “The day Papi decided to give you your mother’s wedding ring, it made me want to dance. I figured the ring would protect me from everybody who didn’t love me. The kids at school used to call me assassin behind my back because of what happened to maman. I got to thinking I was responsible for her death—that if it wasn’t for me, she’d still be alive. I knew you kept the ring with your grocery money in that old tobacco can in your closet. So when you went out, I’d slip it on and imagine it protected me from anything that hurt.”

  Aunt Jan reached for her hand. “I know what you’re about to tell me, and—”

  “I stole it, Aunt Jan. You were so kind to me and I stole from you.” Nadine opened her fist and a ring, along with a tiny plastic bracelet, rolled onto the table. “I was so scared, all I could think of was the baby. I thought I’d feel less alone if I had the ring. I was going to put it back after. But when I realized I wasn’t ever coming back, I put it away in my mother’s wallet, swearing I’d find a way to get it back to you someday. I was so ashamed of stealing from you and afraid you’d hate me for it.”

  Janette reached for the ring and examined it. “It took me quite a while to even notice it was gone. When I did, I knew you had taken it. It brought me a bit of comfort to know my mother’s ring might ease a bit of your suffering. Even if you pawned it to buy food, it served a good cause. I had no use for it. It came to me through my mother and now it should go to you.” She took Nadine’s hand and placed the ring in her palm. “Put it on your finger and wear it without shame. I’m more interested in this plastic bracelet here.”

  Nadine wiped her tears with the back of her hand. “It’s time, Aunt Jan. I’ve rehearsed this so many times. But I’ve forgotten the words I wanted to say. What if I start and if something’s not clear, ask and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know.”

  Chapter 22

  Paul pulled his truck over in front of Nadine’s apartment building. “Janette and I will be driving back from Saint-Roch on Wednesday afternoon. But I won’t have time to stop by to see you. I have a few sites to visit north of here. The union has received a few complaints about the logging practices over there. They want a detailed report, so it’ll take me a good couple of weeks. Stop worrying about that daughter of yours and get a proper night’s sleep.”

  Nadine turned to her aunt on the seat beside her and hugged her hard before stepping out. “I’m so happy I finally got to see you. Thank you Papi for that. Hope I didn’t cause any trouble between you and Uncle Denis.”

  Janette closed the door of the truck and waved at her through the open window. “Leave Denis to me. He’ll come round. You have bigger things on your mind. I’ll see you when I come back.”

  Paul drove out of town and took the highway heading east towards Quebec City. Although glad to have his daughter on the seat beside him, he wondered at her sudden decision to come along.

  He remembered Denis keeping a slow pace behind him when they left the tavern earlier. He wasn’t clear whether Denis had been too tipsy to keep up or was brooding about how their conversation had ended. Had he been too harsh with him, or had Janette and Denis squabbled?

  His son-in-law was too protective of Janette, even when it concerned her own father. She was more than capable of making her own decisions and didn’t need anyone coddling her. Whenever Denis left the room, Paul noticed a slight catch in her breath, as if someone had flung a window wide open. Denis had never received him with open arms, but that might well be a family thing. Timothy Pritchart hadn’t been any more welcoming on the two occasions they’d met. The first, at the Pritchart home for Denis and Janette’s engagement supper; the second, at young Philip’s funeral. Denis had never learned to share Janette or to respect her need for independence.

  He smiled at her. “You’re as beautiful as your mother, both inside and out. No wonder Denis keeps a close watch on you.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. “I suppose you lassoed my mother in too.”

  “Lasso my Rose?” His eyes softened. “Never in a million years. She was like a majestic bird soaring over the highest trees. That she even landed to stay with me for a while was the greatest gift a man could ever wish for.” He glanced at her. “You’re upset with Denis, aren’t you? You’ve never asked to come stay with me before. I understand you want to visit my mother’s grave, but springing it on Denis at the last moment isn’t like you. You were out the door before he knew it. I’m more
than happy to have you, but is something going on?”

  She dug into her purse and pulled out a pack of cigarettes. “Nadine told me about him signing those adoption papers. He had no right. She and the baby would’ve been safe with us until she got back on her feet. Think of all the suffering his signature caused. He separated me from my daughter and Nadine from hers. And he never once said a word to me about it.”

  Paul frowned. “She was underage and I guess he worried about the neighbours. Think back twenty years. People weren’t very tolerant when it came to unwed mothers.”

  “I never cared much what neighbours thought. Having a baby around to care for while she went out to work... would’ve been good for us… after we lost our Philip.”

  “Yes, all that was possible. But a lot of water has run under the bridge since. Are you going to hate Denis for something he did twenty years ago?”

  She took a long drag of her cigarette and butted it out in the ashtray. “Wait till he discovers I took his pack. He hates to see me smoke.” She leaned her head back on the seat. “Of course, I don’t hate him, Papa. But all the suffering that poor girl went through pining away for her child. And there was me worried sick night and day about what happened to her. Had Denis been in the house when she told me this, I would’ve taken a swing at him. He needs to be out of my arm’s reach for a couple of days. I’ll be OK once I’ve had time to think things over. If Stella still lived at home, I’d go stay with her for a few days. You’re the only one I’ve got to turn to now. But you haven’t changed, Papa. Always gone off somewhere for work.”

  He reached sideways and placed his hand over hers. “I’m sorry I haven’t always been there for you. It must’ve been tough while you were growing up. But I’m thinking it’s time to retire now. I hope I can catch up on a bit of lost time.”

  “I’ve never blamed you, Papa. I missed you a lot, but you had to put bread on the table. I had a pretty good childhood with Grand-maman. She was like a mother to me, although she never let me forget who my real mother was. I was only six years old when Grand-papa died, so I don’t remember much of him. We always had to be extra quiet when he was home, so Grand-maman would let me stay outside later with my friends.”