by Jan Conn
Aunt Sadie took Stacey driving a few times and told her she was more than ready to pass her test, so Stacey got her driver’s licence in late February. As the months rolled over, it felt less and less to Stacey like she lived with an aunt, but instead, with one of the colourful birds she’d seen at the Calgary Zoo one summer, birds that could talk, though who knew what would come out of their mouths. Twice in the spring, once to replace her mall manager and a second time for undisclosed reasons, Aunt Sadie flew back to San Jose. The second time she left for two weeks, during which time Stacey held an Environmental Club party at her house. As the party wound down, Morgan showed up and took Amber away. By eleven only Stacey and Hugh remained. Hugh had changed in the last year: his once lanky figure had grown solid and muscular, and he now wrestled on the wrestling team. He rarely wore the scent that had enticed her to walk across any room to be near him, but he coated himself with it the night of the party.
I need to take Lucky for his late-night walk, she said. Want to come?
When they got back, they needed no negotiations before they spent the night together in Aunt Sadie’s queen-sized bed. Not quite the whole night. Stacey woke before six and realized it would soon be light out and Molly the Nose would see Hugh drive away. Hugh agreed he would get up and drive to a truck stop and drink coffee until he could reasonably go back home, but only if they did it one more time. Stacey found that a reasonable compromise.
Martin said he might like to visit Fernie for a week. You liked Martin, didn’t you?
He seemed fine.
You can help me show him around. I think he’ll like it here. Maybe he can fix the drain pipe at the back. Martin’s good at those kinds of things.
With grade eleven complete, Stacey wished more than ever that her mother could see how well she was doing. Aunt Sadie congratulated her on her performance but with the same enthusiasm she would have bestowed upon her had she taught Lucky a new trick. Stacey could remember one afternoon, in grade seven or eight, when schooling had been the topic that surrounded a tea party with Molly the Nose and her mother. Because of Molly’s encouragement, the tone of the dialogue suggested that an education was the only safe ticket out of Fernie. Stacey hadn’t considered what it might mean to leave the only town she had known. She liked Fernie and its familiarity. But a year away from graduating, the world looked so much different. She felt restless, and her Aunt Sadie’s constant reviewing of her worldly travels didn’t help.
Martin hadn’t come, but he planned to. Aunt Sadie grew antsy in anticipation. She needed something to do.
Your mother said near the end that if the house ever sold, to be sure to clean out the attic. Any idea what’s up there?
Nope. Never been there. I’m surprised mom would have put anything in the attic. She couldn’t stand spiders.
Aunt Sadie hated spiders too, but after lunch she put on some old clothes, fitted a toque over her head and got the stepladder and a flashlight and opened the hatch in the spare bedroom that led to the attic. She handed three sealed boxes and one open box down to Stacey, then took one last look around.
That’s all there is. Insulation and spider webs.
The open box contained a photo album, one Stacey had never seen. Most of the pictures weren’t inserted but lay like bookmarks inside. A picture of Sadie and Della when they were about twelve or thirteen showed them leaning against a car, and a few pictures of Della suggested places she’d worked, like the fish packers and an orchard filled with apples. Three or four pictures commemorated her wedding to Willy Hoffner, and two pictures showed Sage by himself, both with palm trees in the background. The rest was junk: an old lamp with a flexible head, a figurine with a head decapitated, a partial set of silverware tarnished the color of old shoes. Things, Stacey imagined, Sage hadn’t gotten around to throwing out. A second box contained old clothes, including a bathing suit Della must have worn or wished she could have worn when she was young, and a third box contained an assortment of old books and a tax return from 1973. Aunt Sadie said she wondered why Della had bothered to mention looking in the attic. Then they opened one box and found four books that contained Della’s diaries.
Well, will you look at this. Your mother must have spent hours filling all these. I’m guessing this must be why she mentioned the attic. She wanted to leave these to you. Don’t you think? Anyway, as much as I’m tempted, I think she meant them for you. But promise me one thing: if there are any juicy tidbits in there that mention your Aunt Sadie, you’ll let me in on it.
Promise? Sure.
The phone rang, and Aunt Sadie came back ecstatic. Martin is at the airport. I’m going to pick him up in an hour. We can go out for dinner tonight, the three of us. Do you want to come to the airport? Just for the drive?
No, it’s all right. I’ll stay home and wait.
Yes, of course. That makes perfect sense. It’s not like you don’t have reading to catch up on.
Aunt Sadie and Martin arrived home late, and Stacey was in her room with the door closed. Aunt Sadie knocked on the door but got no response.
Stacey? You in there? Sorry we’re late. Martin had to go through customs. Have you eaten yet? We can still go out to eat.
She knocked one more time and opened the door to find all the boxes and their contents scattered around the room. Stacey hated anything messy. Only her shape indicated where she was wrapped in covers.
You remember Martin?
Hi, Stacey, Martin called from the doorway.
Let’s go, kiddo. You can pick whatever restaurant you want. What do you feel like?
I’m not hungry. I’ll stay home. You two go.
Are you sick or something? What’s going on?
I’ll be fine. I just can’t eat now. You go.
I don’t blame you, Aunt Sadie said. I’ve felt that way many times. See, Martin? That’s what I was telling you. That niece of mine has high standards.
As soon as they left, Stacey phoned Amber and asked if she would come over. Amber said she would bring Morgan with her. Stacey said she only wanted to talk to her, and Amber heard something in Stacey’s voice. She told Morgan she would be busy for the rest of the evening.
The first diary chronicled another life: their wedding, living somewhere out in the country that wasn’t named and the years Della and Sage spent in Vancouver. What she read interested her, but then it occurred to her she hadn’t been mentioned once. The second diary began in Hope. She read Della’s words quickly the first time, as if reading a suspense novel, then she started again and reread the words that caused her stomach to tighten like a fist. She searched for ways to see the diary as nothing more than a cruel joke. But it wasn’t the least bit funny and was as cruel as cruel could be. All she had come to think about herself was as false as the premise of the life she’d been living since she could remember. Nothing in the writing suggested that it wasn’t real; Stacey could remember the events mentioned, either because she remembered them or they’d been discussed so many times she felt like she knew them. Her whole life had been a betrayal, which made even the events she knew she’d experienced feel like encounters she had only heard about. She wasn’t the Stacey she thought she was. She might not be Stacey at all. She might be Madeline or Jennifer or Montana. Her mind felt severed from her body. She traced her fingers over the letters. The only thing in the room that felt real was the dog she’d named Lucky, who climbed up onto her bed as if he sensed he wouldn’t be reprimanded.
She needed someone like Amber near her so she could cry. Amber would understand her role in what was happening. Cry is what they both did. As soon as Stacey opened the door to let her in, Amber cried, even before she knew the reason why. They sat on the bed, and Stacey explained everything. She read excerpts from Della’s journal aloud.
I told Sage to keep driving. If there’s one thing that will settle a child it’s driving around in a car. Sage was concerned about the dog. He rolled the window down as if that would help find him. The little girl was all played out. Kept her e
ye on us until her head finally flopped to the side. She looked so peaceful, asleep like that. Sage kept driving around and around, and I’m thinking if you’re going to burn gas, you might as well put it to good use. I never told him that. He must have thought of it himself because he soon pulled out onto the highway, and it felt like we were a family heading east.
Amber sat beside Stacey on the bed, their backs to the wall. Lucky lay beside Stacey, his head on her leg. With every entry read, Stacey kept one hand in motion, soothing the dog on his head, around the ears. Amber had an arm around Stacey, her hand rubbing her shoulder.
Sage being tall and on the narrow side with the features he has, mostly angular, and me being more of the rounded variety, gives people we meet in Fernie pause for thought when they meet Stacey. People are used to saying things like: She’s the spitting image of her mother, that’s for sure, or She has her father’s eyes at least. With Stacey holding your hand, you can almost see the thought process people go through until they conclude, as Molly did eventually, that a child can be a blend of two very different parents and not look much like either one.
Every word felt like a knife digging deep inside, and it got worse the more she read, and she wanted to stop but couldn’t. As she read the words for the third time, violence became part of it all. The suffering felt like a direction, the only direction she could take.
He doesn’t often get raging drunk, but when he does, he gets braver and loses sight of how to play with Stacey. He cherishes her though, but I sometimes wonder if he had preferred a boy. He likes to get down on all fours and crawl around the house with Stacey riding on top. Stacey loves playing horse this way, but when Sage tells her to hang on and starts bucking, it’s not always the safest activity just before bedtime. Sage feels sorry when she takes a tumble. He offers to give her a bath and read to her in bed. Sometimes he tells her stories, and he’s good at it. When he tells her stories, she believes him.
Stacey tried to see and feel what Della had written. With each sentence, the world became darker and darker. With every word that melted into the past, she expected something egregious to happen. But it wasn’t something going to happen. It already had.
We both kept waiting for the other person to say something. Something that made sense. After we left Hope behind, it was too late. The little girl cried most of the first week, her blanket balled up in her fists. It was what I wanted, and that’s why Sage kept quiet. This was what we both wanted, to make a family, but Sage couldn’t do it. Now there was a way, and it made no sense and all the sense in the world.
This is too big, Amber said. It’s too big for both of us. You need to sleep at my house tonight. We can talk until we’re done talking. My mom won’t mind. You need to bring these with you.
Stacey left a note. Her aunt would worry otherwise. Walk and feed Lucky, it said. She addressed the note to Aunt Sadie, but even this had become a lie. Sadie wasn’t her aunt at all, only a woman playing a part in a bad dream.
30
The new diamond grill was busy, and Martin and Sadie had to wait, which was fine because Martin wanted to walk around town. The air was clear, the mountains almost showing off, and he was impressed.
What do you think’s wrong with Stacey? he asked.
I don’t think it’s anything like the flu. She rarely gets sick. But she worries a lot, and it’s been hard for her with her dad in a care home and her mother gone now. Just before you arrived, we went through the attic and found three or four journals Della had stored there. She’s been reading them is my guess. You can imagine coming upon things your mother wrote about all the years she was alive and you sit down to read them. It must be emotional for her.
She’s got one more year in school, right?
Next year’s the finale. She’s a good student. She’ll want to go someplace after she graduates, I’d bet on it. She doesn’t belong here. You know what’s sad about the situation?
No, what?
She says she wants to grow up to be like me. She’s so much bigger than that, but I don’t know how to tell her.
How long do you plan on mothering her? Are you staying here another whole year?
I’m guessing. What would you do if your only brother had a kid in the same situation? It’s not an easy decision, is it? I took off when I was about her age. I owe it to my sister not to let that happen to Stacey. It feels like the right thing to do.
Amber’s mom and dad always treated Stacey with kindness, and with what had happened over the last year, they checked up on her whenever they saw her. Amber’s mom knew something wasn’t right when they arrived for their impromptu sleepover. She pestered them both with questions and got nowhere. Amber knew how to get her mom to back off if necessary, and they found sanctuary in the bedroom.
Your mom or dad never said anything about how it all started? Amber said.
Della and Sage, you mean. No. I asked her once why there weren’t any pictures of me as a baby, and she said they were lost in a house fire or the movers lost them. Something like that. You hear people talk about what their kids were like as babies, problems they might have had, but they did none of that. That’s because they didn’t know me.
So, they adopted you somehow?
I wish. They stole me. In the town of Hope. I’ve never seen the town, but that’s where they stole me. In broad daylight.
Amber left to make them both a hot chocolate and grab a bag of potato chips from the cupboard. Her mother asked if everything was all right in there, and Amber said they weren’t as good as they could be.
They sat quietly, drinking hot chocolate and nibbling on chips. Amber considered how she’d feel if a few hours ago she’d found out her mom wasn’t her mom and her dad wasn’t her dad and that the two of them had stolen her and drove her to Fernie to live. She would stomp into the kitchen kicking and screaming and throw things until she got an explanation. Maybe she would phone the police or run away. But for Stacey, her make-believe mother had died, and her fake father was as good as gone himself.
Maybe there were circumstances, Amber said.
Oh, there were circumstances all right. They couldn’t have kids. They’d tried for years, and they wanted one so they grabbed me in the park and drove away. It’s all here. I’ll show you.
Stacey found the section near the end of the second diary, where Della admitted everything, so Amber could read it. How they couldn’t have kids and how desperate Della had been. Even Sage, loser that he was, had tried to get her to reconsider.
So what are you going to do?
I don’t know what to do. I don’t even know who I am at this point. All I know is where I didn’t come from. I could be anybody.
So you were a little kid walking around crying, and they found you, right?
Exactly. Even if people find a dog on the loose, they know enough to take him to the pound. That’s the first place people look if their dog goes missing. If we found a lost kid crying in Fernie somewhere, we’d call the police or something. Think about it. Fifteen years ago, someone lost me, and for fifteen years they didn’t know where to look. They probably think I’m dead by now. Isn’t that what most people would think?
Maybe they’re still looking, Amber said. Remember when we were younger and we tried to become investigators? We need to do that again. We’re older now so we can figure this out.
I’m almost an adult. Imagine giving birth to a kid and not meeting them until they were an adult. If we found them, they might not want to meet me. And how can I prove I belong to anyone after all this time?
They have experts for that stuff, Amber said. They could do genetic tests to make sure. I think if I lost my child, I’d want to see them as soon as possible, grown-up or not. What we need to do is find out where you came from. Until that happens, you’ll feel like you do now, which is awful.
Amber and Stacey had shared many sleepovers, but never one where they talked so far into the middle of the night. They had hot chocolate three more times and ate a ham sandwich
after midnight. They made two lists, one with what they knew from the diaries and the other what they needed to know. The latter was shorter, but when the lists sat side by side, they seemed equal. They discussed how much Stacey didn’t look like Della and Sage and what her real parents might look like. The dad wouldn’t be as tall as Sage, and the mom would have lighter hair. Freckles maybe. Stacey thought maybe they were poor and let her wander off because they couldn’t afford to keep her. Amber said maybe, but they might also be rich, maybe famous, and once found her life would change for the better.
They agreed not to tell anyone else about what they knew. Not Amber’s parents or the police or anyone. Not until they could figure out what had happened.
Amber said, This is a tragedy for you, and anyone would see it that way. But there’s one good thing. You live in Fernie, and I live in Fernie, and if none of this had happened, we wouldn’t be friends.