Wildflower

by Prudence MacLeod

  “You really want to know?”

  “We really want to know.”

  “I’d like to spend my days climbing around the lonely beaches, photographing the tiny wildflowers that cling to the rocks,” she’d smiled softly as she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I really admire the way something so delicate can be so incredibly tenacious and tough at the same time. Some of the most beautiful blossoms I have ever seen were on the cliffs near home. I even swore once that when I found someone like that, I would know I had found my one true love.”

  “Well you’re completely in the wrong place,” laughed Jack, poking Tommy playfully in the ribs.

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “I mean you should be in Newfoundland where I grew up,” replied Jack. “The climate is cruel and the cliffs jut right out into the stormy North Atlantic. The winters are long, the icebergs are many, and when spring finally arrives, the wildflowers seem to sprout right out of the barren rocks.”

  “Oh my god, Jack,” Hazel had sighed as she flopped back in her chair, “that sounds so perfect. Why don’t you leave old Tommy here and run away with me to Newfoundland.”

  “Forget that sweet sister,” laughed Tommy as he threw a cushion at her. “If you guys are going to run off to the rock, you have to take me with you.”

  “It’s a deal,” Jack had smiled as he’d passed Tommy another can of soda pop. “I’ll see if I can transfer to Memorial University. They’ve got a good engineering program there.”

  The conversation had gone on from there. It turned out that Jack had been desperately homesick and had wanted to return anyway. Tommy had not been opposed and soon they were making plans and saving up their money. Tommy’s cousin in Surrey had sold them an old car for fifty dollars. He’d said it should get them there if they went easy and that was the plan. The boys had transferred to MUN and Hazel had quit her jobs and started packing. Today was the big day.

  Her ruminations ended at the sound of the car horn. Gathering up her two huge suitcases Hazel made her way down the three flights of stairs for the last time. “Good bye phony Hazel,” she muttered as she took one last look at the apartment building.

  “What was that?” asked Tommy as he struggled to stow her suitcases in with the other things.

  “I said good bye to phony Hazel,” she replied as she climbed into the back seat beside the television that Tommy refused to part with. “Since I left home I have tried to be all things to all people and I have failed miserably.”

  “You’ve got to be yourself just for yourself Hazel,” said Tommy as he turned in his seat to smile at her. “We like the real Hazel Fillmore and that certain wildflower will too.”

  “Tommy’s right,” put in Jack as he maneuvered the big old car out onto the highway and headed east, “let the real Hazel come out and the world will beat a path to your door.”

  “I’m not so sure I want them to,” laughed Hazel as she tried to squirm into a more comfortable position. “I think I want some time to just explore who the real Hazel might be. I’ll worry about finding that perfect wildflower once I get comfortable with Hazel again.”

  “Sound thinking my dear,” grinned Tommy as he turned back to face the road. “That’s the ticket.”

  They drove steadily through the day and late into the evening, finally stopping to camp out near Brooks Alberta. The weather was so hot on the prairie that they decided to wait until dark before setting out again. They were afraid the old car would boil over in the heat. Setting out at dusk, they drove steadily until well after dawn. They camped near Winnipeg for the day then drove into Ontario that night. The night time traveling seemed to be better so they continued in that vein until they reached Nova Scotia.

  Taking a small detour home, they spent a couple of days at home then set out again. Tommy and Hazel had pretended to be living together and Jack had slept on the couch while Hazel had the bed and Tommy slept on the floor. Nobody had liked the arrangement and they were soon on their way again. This time they stopped for the night in Sidney and the boys took a motel room while Hazel slept in the car. The next night was spent in lounge seats on the ferry and finally they were on Newfoundland soil.

  Jack’s sister and her husband had an apartment in the basement of their house and they’d agreed to give Hazel the first month free to help her get started. Gratefully she’d accepted. Hazel hadn’t even unpacked her suitcases when the new landlord was at her door while his wife was at work. “Come on baby, you know the score,” he leered as he forced his way into the small apartment. “Nothing is ever really free.”

  “Stay away from me,” hissed Hazel as she tried to put an overstuffed chair between them.

  “Not a chance in hell,” he grinned as he darted around the chair and grabbed her wrist. Suddenly he yelped in pain and surprise and leaped away from her, but she followed and put the small switchblade knife to his throat.

  “Now let me explain how this works,” snarled Hazel, glaring into his eyes as she forced him back against the wall. “You can walk out that door, and we both forget we ever had this conversation. On the other hand I can stick this knife through your heart and start screaming bloody murder as I tear my shirt open. You get the idea?” He gulped and nodded.

  “Good boy,” she purred as she pressed the blade tight to his throat, drawing a small bead of blood. “Now listen carefully. I have worked in some less than savory neighborhoods in Toronto and on Vancouver’s east side. I am well accustomed to dealing with far more dangerous men than you, and I am quite capable of doing you serious harm. Do I make myself clear?”

  Again he nodded his head imperceptibly. The man had actually wet himself in fear. “Good,” she hissed, “now get out of here, and don’t ever come near me again.” He bolted through the door which Hazel locked and braced behind him. After that she flopped on the bed and cried for hours before phoning Tommy. A short while later the boys were moving into the apartment and Hazel was staying with Jack’s mom.

  Within a week Hazel was working and a week later she found a small bachelor apartment in an old building frequented by students. Jack’s mom said it would be good for her to be among young folk her own age. A few donated pieces of furniture later and Hazel was all set up again.

  Hazel Fillmore sighed as she looked out the window of her small apartment at the dense fog that blanketed the whole city. Ah well, it was early yet, and the sun should soon burn off the mist. The climate here was much like what she had grown up with, except a bit colder, and Hazel was comfortable with its quirks. She had been in St. John’s over two months now and her luck seemed to be changing. The day before she’d won five hundred dollars on a scratch and win ticket so she bought herself a nice camera. She’d had to add her last three hundred to the five, but she had what she wanted and today was her day off. Hazel hoped to walk up to Signal Hill and try out her new toy.

  She was in luck and the sun soon began to burn off the fog. It was promising to be a beautiful day. With a bright smile, Hazel packed a small lunch in her back pack, then, scooping up her new camera case, set out for the bus stop. She rode the bus downtown then began the long arduous climb up to the Cabot Tower at the top of the hill.

  Upon reaching the top, Hazel took a few moments to gaze out over the waters toward Europe. Still smiling, she climbed the rest of the way to the highest point, then, spotting a small patch of wild flowers, she took out her camera and began to experiment. Hunger and fading daylight found Hazel near the bottom of the stairs down the cliffs. It was a long and tiring climb back up to the tower, then a long walk back down the hill to where she could catch a bus home, but Hazel was still smiling as she reached her apartment building.

  “I’ll put these in so they’ll be ready for next payday,” she thought as she fingered the spent film in her pocket while she checked her mail box. There was the usual pile of junk mail which she tossed in the recycle bin provided for that purpose, plus a letter from her father. Hazel smiled with delight as she carried the letter b
ack to the apartment before opening it.

  Hazel made herself a small meal and some tea before she settled down with her letter.

  “My dearest daughter,

  “It was such a pleasure to have you at home again if only for a day or two. I regret the sleeping arrangements, but you mother would have it no other way, although I am sure both you and Tommy’s partner would have preferred to trade places. Ah well, perhaps in time.

  “You looked well Hazel, if a little thin. You past letters have often given me pause for worry, as you described to me the way your life has gone. Please don’t give up on yourself daughter. Remember, build your house on a solid foundation and you cannot help but succeed. It pleases me that you have decided to return to being yourself again. Like you, I too tried the big city, but it was not to be.

  “On a more upsetting note, your mother intercepted your last letter, I am afraid. We exchanged heated words upon my discovery of her nosiness. She is now, however, well aware of the secret we have kept from her, and if she seems a bit distant for a while, that is why. It also made plain to her why you write to us separately. Ah well, her greatest fear has always been that I will revoke my vows and leave her; she has a tendency to take out her frustrations on you for it. I must apologize for that.

  “On another note, your grandmother is back in hospital again. They say it is her gall bladder this time. I am sure she would enjoy a letter if you have the time. It is early morning now, but I hear the family beginning to stir so I must take my leave and start breakfast.

  Love Dad.”

  Hazel smiled warmly as she read the letter. Until she’d received the first one the year she left home, she had never been sure he’d know how. Since then they had written once each month and she had kept him up to speed on all her adventures, both victory and defeat. Through the letters they had become closer than they had ever been, and in her darkest times, Walton Fillmore had been his daughter’s only anchor. She decided to write back immediately.

  Dear Dad,

  “Just read your last letter and I must say I am surprised that we have managed to keep our secret this long. Mom will have a fit or two but she will cope, don’t worry. At least when I finally send you that picture of me and the perfect wildflower, I can send one big enough to hang on the wall.

  “Speaking of pictures, I won a few dollars on a scratch ticket the other day so I bought a camera. I have spent the day today crawling around the rocks and barrens about this fine city, taking picture after picture of every wildflower I could find. I’ll take a few of the city and of the apartment and then send them to you so you can see how I live now.

  “Dad, I swear that from now on I will not try to be anything other than what I am, Walton Fillmore’s daughter. There will be no more big city girls for me. I am staying single until I finally find my wildflower out among the rocks and crags. I think that will not happen for me until I learn to love myself just the way I am, so that’s what I am going to do. I am just going to go about enjoying my life and see where it takes me.

  “Oh yes, if the pictures of the flowers turn out good, maybe I’ll see if I can get a book published about them. Well, I’m beat and I have to work early so I’ll sign off for now. I’ll write again soon.

  Love, Hazel.”

  Hazel smiled as she closed the envelope and placed a stamp in the upper corner. “That’s right,” she smiled to herself, “that’s exactly what I am going to do. I will concentrate on just enjoying myself for a while and see if I can collect enough really good photos for a book, even if I have to self publish.” Filled with far more optimism than she had felt since the first day she’d left home, Hazel Fillmore folded down the futon that served as her bed.

  House

  Mark Pardy nearly lost the power of speech as he saw the blonde goddess descend the stairs of Edna Parson’s B&B and approach his car. “Mr. Pardy?” asked Abby as she reached the large man who’d gotten out to greet her. “I’m Abigail MacKai.”

  “A pleasure Miss MacKai,” he replied in a choked voice as he shook the offered hand.

  “Shall we get on the road?”

  “Oh, yes of course,” he replied hastily as he hurried around the car to open the door for her. The man was puffing from the exertion by the time he had her ensconced in the passenger’s seat and was back behind the wheel. He swiftly pulled out into traffic and drove out of town, trying to make small talk the whole time. Mark was definitely bedazzled by the divine Miss MacKai.

  For her part, Abby responded politely to his chatter as she mentally marked each turning he took as well as the more prominent landmarks. After driving well out of the city on the main highway he turned off and drove for several kilometers more along a secondary highway and finally turned onto a small road leading out along the water’s edge.

  “It is quite beautiful along here,” remarked Abby as she took in the serenity of the area.

  “It certainly is this time of year,” he agreed, “but it sure can be a trial in winter.”

  “Ah yes, the winters are quite long here I take it Mr. Pardy.”

  “Yes ma’am they surely are. I hate to admit it, but they are long and the snows can be quite deep. The roads get very icy, and out here, you can easily go a day or two waiting for a plow to come by.”

  “I see, so what do the local folk do when this happens?”

  “Well, those who still live out here year round always make sure the larder is full, if you know what I mean. They are accustomed to it and are prepared to go a few days if they have to. The worst thing though is when you have a power failure. Sometimes you can lose the electricity for quite a while, then all your pipes can freeze up and that is a real problem. I have shut off the water to the house and drained the hot water tank so that couldn’t happen while the place was empty.”

  “But they can be turned back on can’t they?”

  “Oh yes, of course. The closest neighbor is a retired school teacher and quite a handyman as well. Keith has been watching the place for me. He can easily get you back up and running in no time.”

  “That is good to know. If I decide to move out here I will certainly need the services of a good handyman.”

  “This place is called Pike’s Cove,” he said as they passed along a long row of white houses dotting the landscape on either side of the road. “This is the nearest convenience store and it is also the Postal outlet. You go in here and they set you up with a mail box. It’s not so bad really, these folks rarely close so you can access your mail any day of the week.”

  Abby nodded her head thoughtfully and gazed out the window again. The road rose up over a barren hill and descended into a wooded area that swept back toward the sea. Ahead she could see a small collection of white houses. “Jamaica Point,” said Mark Pardy dramatically.

  “Wow, what a view,” breathed Abby as she continued to gaze out the window. She tore her eyes away from the view and checked her watch. They were just forty five minutes from the city limits. “Not so bad as all that,” she smiled to herself.

  Mark drove slowly along the road, allowing Abby to soak up the view a bit. It seemed to her that almost half the houses she saw were empty, but those that were occupied were in a fine state of repair. Some of the older abandoned ones were all boarded up and several had Mark Pardy’s for sale sign on them. “Which one is it?” she asked softly.

  “Just around the bend here,” he said as the road rose up gently. As the car topped the hill, he stopped and pointed to several houses down a small cove with a long gravelly beach. “That’s her right there,” he said pointing. “She is the third from the end and the last two are abandoned.”

  Abby gave a small gasp of delight as she saw the place for the first time. The house was old but well kept up, or at least she had been until recently. It seemed to Abby that the poor old girl had fallen on hard times of late. Tall and well built, the old house stood in the middle of a gently sloping meadow with her back to the road, and facing the sea. She had been built in a time when the onl
y highway had been the waterway.

  Her paint had been pristine white at one time, but no longer. Now it was faded to a dirty grey, and beginning to peel in several places. The black trim looked like three day old mascara rimming the tired aching eyes of the windows. The smaller out buildings seemed like two small dogs, faithfully tagging along behind a well beloved master. Tall grass was busy trying to reclaim the poorly graveled driveway, and the land that had been kept from it for so long.

  Up by the road there was a signpost that stood stark and lonely, one skeletal arm pointing to the house as it gravely proclaimed the residence. Number thirteen, Gully Bank Road, The Murphys.

  Number thirteen Gully Bank Road gazed out over a gently lapping cove. The two arms of the big gully reached out protectively into the cold North Atlantic and took the brunt of the ocean’s fury. A long sweep of gravelly beach reached from one arm all the way round to the other like a forced smile that had been stretched a bit too wide.

  The field of wildflowers swayed to and fro in the warm gentle breeze that teased them into movement. A line of wash hung on the neighbor’s clothesline flowed gently through a stately dance as though to attest to the welcoming nature of the folk who lived in this remote part of the world. There was something so appealing about the whole scene as the old house sat alone in the sun, waiting patiently for the next owner to nurture and protect, waiting patiently for the next coat of paint to return to her the bloom of a youth long since past.

  “I think this old girl might need me as badly as I need her,” Abby thought to herself.

  “You go poke around inside Miss MacKai,” suggested Mark as he unlocked the door. “I have a few things to do out here first then I’ll join you.”

  Abby nodded then gently pushed open the door and stepped inside. She was in a small porch and two strides took her into the kitchen. Surprisingly, the kitchen was quite modern with all fairly new appliances as well as a huge old wood stove. The room was quite large and the table and chairs were neatly placed, almost waiting for the folk to come home to dinner.