“C’mon, Deely,” she prompted, nudging her arm, “let’s walk down as far as the bench, that’s all. I’ll tell you about my trip to St. John’s.”
“Okay.” Adelia got up slowly, puffing. “You do the talkin’, I’ll do the listenin’.”
The two friends walked slowly down the path worn from generations of footsteps. They had been together as far back as either could remember, two friends who knew what best friends know—when to speak, when to listen, and when to just sit silently. Near the water’s edge they stepped off the path onto the grass, quite long from a month of growing. Hannah approached the newly painted green bench and ran her fingers lovingly across the small plaque on it: in loving memory of marshall west, by his wife, hannah, and daughter, carrie.
They looked out at the dark rocks of the shoreline made smooth by ages of pounding surf and nor’easters. When life became too much for them, this is where the two women found peace.
As the tide rose, the freshening wind sent a strong smell of sea kelp toward them. Finally, Hannah broke the silence. “The land is looming,” she said casually, as she looked across the bay to the islands beyond that seemed so much bigger than normal. “Bad weather’s coming. According to the radio, it’s raining hard in St. John’s this morning.”
“Now then.” Adelia patted her lap. “Tell me all about your trip, Hannah. Start at the beginning.”
Hannah described Jeanne’s house and Lauren’s house in the minutest detail. Adelia marvelled at her friend’s ability to remember and describe what she saw so clearly.
“That’s a different world than we’re used to, Hannah, my dear,” Adelia said. “But they sound like lovely people.”
“Yes, they are.”
“When are you going in again?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I won’t make a habit of it. After all, they’re all very busy.”
“Even Jeanne?”
Hannah nodded. “She’s taking care of her father’s house, and she has to decide what to do with all of his papers and things.”
“Did you get a chance to see the old house?”
“No, not this time. Carrie and I drove by it, though. It was so strange to see it empty, with no drapes up to the windows. Whoever buys it will have some place on their hands. If it were you, Deely, you’d say that you wouldn’t want to be the one to clean it.”
Adelia laughed and peered across the harbour at an ATV travelling at high speed up the cemetery road. “There’s those crackies from down harbour,” she said with disgust. “I must mention it to my Ben so he can have a word.” Adelia’s son, Ben, was the town mayor. “If they’re not careful, they’ll kill someone.”
But instead of agreeing with her, Hannah’s mind had wandered elsewhere. She looked toward the lighthouse, squinting her eyes as the clouds lifted to reveal the sun.
Adelia noticed her pensive mood. “Last week you told me that you weren’t really looking forward to going to St. John’s, but you didn’t tell me why. Do you feel any better now that you’ve been there and back?”
As much as she tried to hide her apprehension, Hannah knew there was nothing that she could keep from Adelia. She looked down at the grass and two large flat rocks bordered by grass and buttercups. They were the same two rocks that she and Adelia as little girls would sit on in the late evenings to play house. Anny and Deely, their childhood names. Everything had changed since then, even the rocks and the ocean. She squeezed her eyes shut and wished that she could go back to those days and live it all over again. The warm westerly wind disturbed her greying hair, and she pushed it back from her eyes. She felt Adelia’s hand on her arm, squeezing gently, and she heard her soothing voice. “What is it, maid? Tell me why you’re so bothered. I know you. None of this is sitting well.”
Hannah took a deep breath, unable to turn to face her friend. “Oh my,” she began, and with those two words, all the emotion of the past few months rushed to the surface. She gasped quickly and the tears flowed. “Oh, Deely.” She struggled to speak. “Oh, Deely.”
Adelia put her arm around her shoulder. “What is it? Try to tell me. You have to tell someone. Is it Marshall? Do you miss him?”
Hannah nodded. “I do, but for selfish reasons. Because when my Marsh was alive, all I had to worry about was how many potatoes to put in the pot. Now look at me. What a mess I’m in.” She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, hoping there would be no more. But the tears continued, and she was grateful that her friend had a handful of tissues. “Carrie hasn’t said anything, but I’m sure she and Jeanne don’t get along. I could just feel it. You know what Carrie’s like. She’d tell our Blessed Saviour what to do.”
“My guess is that Jeanne is the same way. Am I right?”
Hannah nodded.
“I thought so. They’re like two low-pressure systems coming together, and you know what that spells.”
“A storm.”
“Exactly. But storms pass, Hannah. Carrie and Jeanne will find their way. It’s just going to take a while, ’tis all.”
Hannah wiped her eyes. “I can’t help but wonder, what if they ask questions? Joe and Lauren, I mean.”
“What kind of questions?”
“About the past, about why I left, and why I didn’t try to find out about my daughter and my grandchildren during all those years. That must make Lauren and Joe angry that I didn’t care enough to find them. Oh, they didn’t say anything. They were very kind, but they must be wondering.”
“Hannah, my dear, you can’t do that to yourself. You can’t live your life wondering about the past and what other people think. You did what you had to do at the time. Jeanne grew up in a home where she was provided for with everything she needed.”
“And you and I know that’s not what makes a good home.”
“Yes, of course, but Jeanne and Lauren and Joe would not have come looking for you if they were angry because of what you had done. Now, put that out of your mind.”
Hannah wiped her tears and sat back. “I don’t belong there with them. I don’t deserve to know them,” she said softly.
“Why do you say that? I know it’s hard, meeting your daughter and grandchildren for the first time. That would be hard on anyone. And when you get to be our age, well, I guess we don’t want anything to upset us, do we? I often wonder what the Good Lord has in mind. Perhaps Jeanne needs you, Hannah. Have you stopped to think of that?”
Hannah wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly chilled. “No, I have never thought of that, Adelia,” she said, her voice shaking. “But I do know from listening to Jeanne and Joe and Lauren that Virginia Sinclair was a horrible, horrible person. She treated Lauren so awful when she was just a little girl. I can’t repeat the story Lauren told me. And Joe, too. She had no time for the grandchildren or for Jeanne. She told Jeanne on her wedding day the truth about her mother.”
“It was her way of punishing Charles, that’s what you’re thinking.”
“Yes, and if wasn’t for me and what I did, with Charles, none of this would have happened.”
Adelia laughed out loud to Hannah’s surprise, and her laugh was contagious. Hannah found herself laughing through her tears. “What?” she begged her friend to explain.
“Hannah, if you and Charles hadn’t . . . you know . . . none of them would be here. No Jeanne, no Lauren, no Joe.” She finally stopped laughing and shook her head. “How in the world can you blame yourself for Virginia’s behaviour? She chose to be what she was. It was her decision. And heaven only knows what else was going on in her life that made her the way she was.”
“But her young husband had a relationship with a working girl like me, and every day she looked at our daughter she saw a reminder of what he had done. Is there no wonder that the woman was bitter and angry?”
“I don’t know, Hannah. I daresay she was like it before you eve
r showed up. Besides, you and I have both had children, and all I can say is, after having gone through it, I would’ve been quite happy to have someone else give me the youngsters after they were born, ’cause giving birth ain’t no picnic. Virginia should’ve been grateful.”
Hannah smiled at her friend’s matter-of-fact observation and wiped away the last of her tears. They both waved to Hannah’s brother, Toby, who was rowing his rodney into a nearby inlet. “I shouldn’t think about Charles, but I can’t help it. He had it difficult as well. He had the Bolands always after him.”
“Really?”
Hannah nodded. “Clarence Boland was a nasty ol’ cuss. He gave Charles money for his business when he was only a young man, and he held it over him all the time. That’s not easy for a man, Deely.”
“No, I imagine not. But there’s nothing we can do about it now.” She smoothed her dress and pulled her cardigan around her ample bust. “Now, enough of that feeling bad, Hannah. Enough. I said so.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Hannah answered, feigning obedience. “I wish I was able to talk to Jeanne, you know, really talk like I do with you. But none of us were reared that way, were we?”
“Nah, not like the crowd on TV today. ’Course, they’ve gone too far with it.” Adelia waved her hand for emphasis. “My mother used to say, ‘Adelia, if you got any troubles, go out and tell it to the wind.’ And you know how much I hate the wind.”
“So you never had any troubles.” Hannah smiled.
“That’s right, my dear.” Adelia laughed. “Mother wouldn’t let me.”
* * * * *
St. John’s
Lindsay pulled back the patio door and stepped out on the deck to join Sandi, who was relaxing in the shade of the house. By 4:00 p.m., the rain had stopped and the clouds had disappeared to bright sunshine. The air was cool and fresh.
“Is it really warm enough to sit out?” she asked.
“As long as you stay out of the wind,” Sandi answered. She placed her bookmark in her novel, laid it on the small wooden table next to her, and reached for her coffee mug.
“You didn’t tell me about Thursday night at Lauren’s. How did it go?” she asked, as she sat back in the Adirondack chair.
“Okay. A little tense at times. I inadvertently mentioned that we’re looking at a house on Waterford Bridge Road near Kurt. I don’t think Jeanne was thrilled to hear that. When she managed to get Joe alone, she offered him the Sinclair house as a wedding gift.”
Lindsay’s eyes widened. “What? Good grief. A house! What ever happened to toasters and blenders? What did he say?”
Sandi glanced at her mother. “Absolutely not.”
“You wouldn’t want it, even if Joe renovated it?”
“No. Besides the memories he has of the place, the last thing he wants is his mother deciding where we’ll live.”
Lindsay watched as Sandi threw the bright yellow tennis ball for Mollie, who quickly retrieved it and returned for another run. “Have you heard from Hannah and Carrie since they went home?”
“Joe talked to them last night. Carrie said that they stopped in Clarenville on their way back for the ‘best chips in the world,’ according to her. By the way, Hannah really appreciates your taking her to visit her friend yesterday morning.”
“Alva’s a lovely lady. She and her husband worked at the Sinclairs’ for many years.”
“Did she say anything about them?”
“Not much. She didn’t speak well of the Bolands. It sounded to me like they had more control of Charles than simply threatening to reveal his secret.”
Sandi pulled her hair back and adjusted her sunglasses. “Virginia’s father, Clarence Boland, actually gave money to Charles in the 1930s to start his business. It came with a condition. Charles had to marry his daughter.”
Lindsay shook her head. “What a way to go into a marriage.”
“Absolutely. Lauren told us last night that she took her grandmother to the cemetery to see Charles’s grave. Hannah had an emotional reaction, according to Lauren.” Sandi pulled the tennis ball from Mollie’s grip and threw it the full length of the garden. “She must have really cared for him.”
“The feeling was mutual,” Lindsay offered.
Her remark got Sandi’s attention. “How do you know?”
“Alva Green told Hannah yesterday that Charles loved her, that he told her so.”
“How did you find out?”
“I just happened to hear.”
“Uh huh.” Sandi laughed. “Yet the man spent his life with Virginia. Talk about making a sacrifice.”
“Sandi, it must be difficult for Hannah to hear others talk about Charles and Virginia. No one has anything good to say.”
“We all know what they were like.”
“Do we? If you think about Virginia for a minute, not only did her husband have a baby with someone else, but instead of the young woman taking the baby, Jeanne was left with them to bring up. Every time Virginia took the two girls out anywhere, she was reminded that one of them was not her daughter.”
“Surely you’re not making excuses for Virginia.”
“No, no, of course not. It was her decision to live the life the way she did. I’m just saying that it must have been a source of friction in the household.” Lindsay stood and moved her chair into the sunshine for warmth. “That would be hard for Hannah to hear, that Charles went through life in such turmoil, especially if she had feelings for the man. That’s all I’m saying.”
“I s’pose. But many years have passed since Hannah was with Charles.”
“Did you ask Hannah and Carrie about attending the wedding?”
“Joe asked Carrie, but she didn’t seem particularly enthused. I assume it’s all been happening so quickly for her and Hannah. Maybe you’re right. She might be worried about the questions that’ll come up.” She sipped her coffee and returned the mug to the table. “I’m hoping she’ll come around, though. It’s not until next summer.” Feeling a stiffening breeze, she pulled her sweater from the back of the chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Remember I told you about Kevin Gillis, who’s interested in purchasing the Sinclair house?”
“Yes.”
“He’s been out with Jeanne for lunch and dinner.”
“Ah, love is in the air.”
Sandi smiled. “No, Mom, I doubt it. Joe thinks it’s nothing more than a business negotiation.”
“Of course, in much the same way as you and Joe were just friends for so long after you first met,” Lindsay reminded her. “In the meantime, I hope that Jeanne’s social circle doesn’t make Hannah uncomfortable. That would be so unkind. Big change is difficult for anyone, but more so the older you are. It’s one thing for the people in Falcon Cove to know the story, but Hannah and Carrie have to face Jeanne’s friends in here. You and Joe will have to understand and be patient.”
As she spoke, her son, Jordy, rounded the corner of the house and caught Lindsay’s last sentence. He took advantage of the opportunity to tease his mother, a frequent response to her incessant nagging. “Have I missed another life lesson, Mother?” he asked, with a grin.
Sandi smiled back and nodded. “You have.”
“Why don’t you write them down?” Jordy pleaded. “I was hoping Kurt would publish Mother’s words of advice. Lindsay’s Life Lessons. A great title for a self-help book. Just what the world needs.”
* * * * *
“You didn’t have to do this, Kevin,” Jeanne said when he arrived for dinner. She arranged a collection of colourful lilies, tulips, and sweet peas in a Waterford crystal vase. “But they are lovely.”
“One should never go to a home for dinner empty-handed. My mother taught me that much.” He removed his jacket and hung it in the hall closet. “I confess I was a little surprised to hear from you
so soon. When we parted this morning, you said you’d be in touch about the house, but I expected just a phone call, not a dinner invitation.”
“I prefer that we talk. I have some questions that I would have asked this morning, but I didn’t want to distract you from viewing the house.”
“Of course.” He followed her into the living room, where she passed him a corkscrew for a bottle of wine standing next to two wineglasses on the coffee table.
He looked around the room approvingly. “I think I prefer this place to that of your parents. This is warmer, more comfortable.”
“That’s only because one house is lived in and the other one’s empty.”
“True.”
“There was a time when the Sinclair home was filled with guests every weekend.”
“You miss those days?” he asked.
She nodded. “I miss my father more.”
Kevin poured the wine, passed her a glass, and sat in the wingback chair opposite her. “Tell me about him, please. I never met the man, but I’ve heard about him. Not much, but I’d like to know more.” His tone was as nonchalant as he could make it.
Jeanne hesitated. “My father was born in Scotland and came here as a young man. He found work with Clarence Boland’s company and moved up quickly because he worked hard. And I imagine he had a good understanding of business. Before long, he had his own business on Water Street that distributed dry goods around the island. It was successful and he was quite proud of it. No doubt there were those who felt he was difficult to work for, but . . .”
“How so?” he interrupted.
“Kevin, not everyone who worked for him had the same work ethic.”
“They didn’t live up to his expectations?”
“Yes, I guess that’s one way to put it.”
“Hmmmm . . . understandable, I suppose,” he said solemnly.
“You don’t agree?”
Kevin shifted. “I dunno. I’m wondering if it’s possible that his employees didn’t appreciate his approach, that he was a difficult man to work for.” He knew he was hitting a sensitive area, but he risked it.
All Good Intentions Page 16