“Too long, Helen,” the woman agreed. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t make it to the wedding. The children were too ill to get out of bed, and I’m afraid I wasn’t much better.”
“I’m only glad you’re all recovered.”
“As am I! And you, well, you’ve been so busy with things, welcoming your dear boy home again. Where is he? Where’s my little Daniel?”
Danny appeared at her side with a friendly nod. “Nice to see you, Auntie Georgina. You’re looking lovely as usual.”
“Daniel!” She handed the baby to her sister, then reached for Danny, but she didn’t step toward him. Instead, her eyes went to his stump, hidden inside his folded trouser leg. Audrey saw the woman’s nostrils flare slightly. It made her want to step between them, demand the woman’s apology. But she behaved, settling for the slight touch of her fingers against Danny’s where they fell at his side.
His aunt folded her hands together at her waist and smiled sweetly at him. “So good to see you again, dear nephew. I know your parents must be overjoyed to have you home.”
“And it’s wonderful to be home,” Danny said, hiding the annoyance Audrey was certain he’d felt at the slight. His fingers folded over Audrey’s as he led her forward. He stood tall, proud as a peacock. “Auntie Georgina, I’d like to introduce my wife, Mrs. Audrey Baker, recently arrived from England.”
Georgina’s gaze went to Audrey, who met it bravely. “Lovely to meet you, Mrs. McWhidden. I’ve heard wonderful things about you and your family.”
Danny’s mother cleared her throat from behind them, her subtle sound of support. She’d told Audrey ahead of time that she loved her sister—Danny assured her he did too—but said Georgina wasn’t exactly the most down-to-earth person she knew. In fact, where Danny’s mother’s dream in life was to see her family happy, Georgina had purposefully married a wealthy, older man and had spent her energy with the well-to-do whenever possible.
“I’m pleased to meet you too.” Georgina tilted her head. “England? I didn’t realize—”
“Audrey and I met in France, but she’s English. She saved my whole battalion from going hungry one night.”
“Oh, Danny,” Audrey objected. “It was nothing like that.”
“Yes, it was. You’re too modest, my love. Truly, Auntie Georgina. The woman’s a hero.”
“And we love having a daughter,” his mother added, making Audrey blush deeper.
“Well, then. Welcome to the family, my dear.”
The men spent most of the day sitting and talking, smoking and eating. Audrey and the ladies alternated between the kitchen, the care of the children, the yard, and the dining room. When the work was done, Danny’s mother pulled Audrey aside.
“Are you having fun, darling?” she asked.
“I am,” Audrey assured her. “These are lovely people, and it’s a beautiful day. How could I not?”
“I’m so glad.” She peered out the window at the others, then looked back. “Audrey, I’d like to ask you for a different kind of help, if you don’t mind.”
Audrey, always happy to please, smiled and waited. Now she was curious about what brought this particular twinkle to her mother-in-law’s eyes. “I’d just love for my sister to have one of your paintings. Georgina was admiring the lovely picture hanging in the sitting room—of the oak and that little bird? Oh, you know the one. Well, I hope it’s all right with you. I’d like to give it to her as a gift.”
“A gift? You would?” Audrey was shocked but thrilled with the compliment. “Of course it’s all right with me. That’s wonderful she should like it so much. But it is only a tree!”
“Maybe so, maybe so. But you know, Audrey, I don’t know anyone who can paint quite like you do. I’m awfully proud of you as a daughter-in-law but also as an artist. Tell me—would it be a terrible inconvenience, Audrey, if I were to ask you to do a portrait of the McWhidden family? I’d love for my sister to hang it in their fancy house for everyone to see—”
“I beg your pardon?”
“—and I’m hoping you can do it without their knowing. A surprise, like.”
Audrey frowned, unsure. “I’ve never done a portrait with more than one person in it.”
“Oh, you’ll manage. You’ll do fine. Just think of them as a group of trees. All different kinds of trees. You’re good with trees. Do it so they aren’t aware. I’ll distract them as well as I can.” She winked. “Now run along and get your easel, darling. I’ll wait for you outside. Thomas!” she called her son through the door. “Thomas, come here a moment and help Audrey, would you?”
Audrey collected her paints and papers, then sat on a stump just to the side of the group, trying surreptitiously to spot distinctive features in each one of the McWhiddens. Thomas carried the easel outside and set up the tripod in front of her.
“You want it here?”
“That’s perfect, Thomas,” she said.
“What are you painting?”
She darted a quick glance at her mother-in-law, who shook her head. “Thomas, come. Leave Audrey alone now.”
Thomas glanced suspiciously between the canvas and his mother.
“Don’t worry, Thomas. I’m only painting trees. You’re not missing a thing.”
She did a vague outline of each of the McWhiddens: three girls, two boys, the baby, and the parents. The two young sons could have been twins, they were so similar. The eldest was about a foot taller, but that was the biggest difference. Black hair cut short over tall brows and deep brown eyes. Not overly thin; healthy for their age. They were pretty simple to paint. The three eldest were sisters. Unlike their brothers, they were all quite different and required a little more concentration. Mrs. McWhidden, a small woman, and the obvious source of her boys’ colouring, held her baby son in her arms. He was a round, soft-faced boy. If he hadn’t had his stubby legs wrapped like a hug around her waist, he might have been too big for his mother to carry.
Audrey couldn’t see Mr. McWhidden at first, so she got to work on the others, playing with poses, adding in facial expressions as she went and leaving a spot for Mr. McWhidden at the back. He was a tall, barrel-chested man with short blond curls and blue eyes. When she was ready, Audrey glanced around and spotted him sitting apart from the others, talking with Danny and Daniel Sr. It seemed Joseph McWhidden was asking Danny questions, and his posture suggested he was fascinated by Danny’s responses. Audrey let her gaze slip to her husband and lost her concentration.
Danny looked slightly pale. He was leaning a little away from Joseph, as if trying to escape the barrage of questions. He lifted his cigarette to his lips and inhaled while staring at the sea, then smoke leaked out of his nose as he nodded at something Joseph said. He looked so sad, Audrey thought. So far away. She wanted to run to him, to bury him in her arms and keep him safe from the world. But he was a man, and a man who could defend himself well enough, leg or no leg. Danny looked back toward Joseph and said something, his expression revealing nothing. Then all three men looked down at Danny’s stump, and Audrey gripped her paintbrush hard, feeling afraid for him. Would he rant at them for asking things that were none of their business? Or would he disguise his anguish, let it float away with the smoke?
As if sensing her gaze, he met her eyes from across the yard. She saw the lift in his shoulders, the deep breath he took at sight of her. He smiled, and she thought what an amazing man he was, to be able to smile through all that. She was the luckiest woman alive. Apparently fortified by the eye contact, he turned back to Joseph and started talking, and the words seemed to come easier.
“Would you like some lemonade?” Mrs. Baker had come up beside her, filled to the brim with curiosity.
“That would be lovely,” Audrey said.
“How’s the painting going?”
“It’s coming along.”
“Do you think you can finish it by the time they leave
tonight?”
Audrey frowned. “Oh no, I’m sorry. This will take a few weeks to complete, and then the paint will still be wet for at least a week.”
Mrs. Baker slumped slightly, then pursed her lips, thinking. Audrey saw when the answer came to her. “That’ll be perfect. I’ll be able to give it to her for her birthday.” After she left, Audrey set to work, swirling in colours, adding details, fitting Mr. McWhidden in so he watched over them all. The man behind the family. The afternoon flew by. Audrey got up to help with supper, but Mrs. Baker sent her back outside to paint. She was just finishing up when she heard the distinctive shuffle of her husband behind her.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said.
“Hello, Danny.” She turned toward him, and he leaned in for a kiss. He smelled like cigarettes, which she didn’t really like, but she didn’t say anything. The kiss was all she needed.
“What you working on?” he asked. “You’ve been busy most of the day with that.”
“Your mother asked me to paint this for the McWhiddens. It’s a surprise. What do you think?”
He leaned over her shoulder, his eyes scanning the characters on the paper. He let his attention dwell on each individual separately, then he shook his head. Her heart sank.
“What?” she asked, concerned. “It’s only just starting out, but I think—”
“I just don’t know how you do that,” he said, and just like that she was happy again. “I could tell it was the McWhiddens from miles away. You’re so good at that. I’m the luckiest man in the world to have such a talented wife.”
She set her forehead against his. “I was just thinking how lucky I was to have you.”
“Nah. You could have been much luckier. Found yourself a rich man with two legs, for starters.”
“I suppose,” she said, squinting at the picture and dabbing a smudge of peridot in one corner. She reached for a rag and cleaned the brush before touching another colour on the palette. “But then I wouldn’t have been happy.”
He snorted and kissed her neck. “You’re crazy. Comin’ for supper?”
“Yes. I think—” Another swipe of olive, a flourish in a background tree. “I’m done for now. We can leave it here to dry in the breeze.”
The painting was presented exactly six weeks later when the McWhiddens returned for Georgina’s birthday celebration. Danny had set it inside a strong oak frame, and he presented it with great ceremony after supper while Audrey sat back, beside herself with nerves. The children made sounds of interest, then came in close to figure out who was who. Mr. McWhidden leaned over their heads, nodding and saying what fine likenesses they were.
Georgina McWhidden, was—as Mrs. Baker had hoped—entirely moved by the gift. Her hand fluttered weakly at her face, and Audrey saw tears shine in the woman’s eyes.
“Oh, Audrey,” she said, her voice a little ragged. “This is the most beautiful gift. I can’t accept such a wonderful thing, can I? It seems . . . too much. I’ve never seen anything like it.” She turned to Mrs. Baker, who beamed with pride. “You know, we took the family to a photographer in Halifax last year. That was really quite an ordeal, having to sit so still for a very long time. Think of that, with all these children! But the photograph is, obviously, in black and white. This is a thousand times prettier. And we didn’t have to sit still, even. Oh, it’s so artistic! How ever did you manage it?”
Audrey smiled, relieved to the soles of her feet. This had been, beyond any doubt, the most labour-intensive thing she’d ever done, but she’d enjoyed the process immensely. “You have a beautiful family, Mrs. McWhidden. It was easy to paint them so.”
Georgina McWhidden pulled out a handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. Her husband, having stepped away until he stood behind her, laid a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “There, there,” he said.
The McWhiddens said they planned to hang the picture in their front hall, so anyone coming to visit would see it there. Mrs. Baker had told Audrey what a well-to-do house they had, with their velvet wallpaper and dark oak banisters leading up to a second storey, and they even had one of those newfangled iceboxes—inside the house! Audrey loved to imagine her picture there, at home among those beautiful things.
TWENTY
A note came the next week, delivered by a boy Audrey didn’t recognize. Incredibly, the missive was from Madame Eleanor Hartlin of the nearby Hartlin Settlement. Eleanor was the grande dame of the area, descended from some of the original settlers from England, and she reportedly lived her life as if she lived in an English castle, surrounded by doting family and only the finest of things. She must have been closing in on a hundred years, Audrey had been told. She had given birth to sixteen children, fourteen of which had survived. And those fourteen had gone on to multiply like rabbits, prompting houses to pop up all around the area.
Danny’s mother was wide-eyed when the note arrived. “What could it be? A note from Mrs. Hartlin? Why, that’s unheard of! Open it quickly, Audrey. I’m fading away with curiosity.”
Audrey pulled out a piece of white paper on which neat—though a little shaky—black letters were inked.
My dear Mrs. Daniel Baker Jr.,
I am in acquaintance with the portrait you recently painted of Mrs. Georgina McWhidden and her family. It is an exceptionally handsome painting and you are to be commended on your considerable talent.
I should like to commission you to come to my home and paint my likeness. I shall not reside on this earth forever, and I enjoy the idea of my portrait hanging over the family hearth as a reminder after I am gone.
I shall pay you three dollars and fifty cents if I am satisfied with your work.
Please respond by sending a note through this messenger, my great-grandson, Nolan Hartlin.
With sincere thoughts,
Madame Eleanor Hartlin
Audrey and Mrs. Baker exchanged a look of absolute shock.
“Three dollars and fifty cents?” they exclaimed together. Both women snapped their jaws shut, but their eyes were round with amazement.
“She must not mean that,” Audrey said, shaking her head and reading over the note again. “That much for one painting? I can’t—”
“You sure can, love!” Mrs. Baker practically jumped up and down with excitement. “This is wonderful! Soon people from all over are going to be asking for their portraits to be done. You and Danny will be set for life if people keep hiring you! Go tell Danny. He’ll be thrilled. Congratulations, Audrey!”
Audrey found Danny in the shed with Johnny, sharpening saw blades. The two didn’t seem to talk much—or if they did, Audrey rarely heard their conversations—but they seemed content just to be together.
“Danny?” she called into the shed.
“Oh, hey, Audrey,” Danny said, smiling out of the shadows.
“Could I speak with you?”
“Of course. Here, Johnny. You finish this one, and I’ll be back to help with the other one.” He grabbed his crutch and hopped toward her. “You are looking even lovelier than usual, wife of mine. What has you lit up like a Christmas tree?”
“Oh, Danny. The most exciting thing has happened.”
She told him about Mrs. Hartlin and her proposal, and of his mother’s dreams for future commissions. Danny frowned while she talked, nodding but not interrupting.
“So? What do you think?” she asked.
“What do I think? Well, what else can I think? I’m proud of you.”
His smile lacked enthusiasm, and some of the wind escaped her sails. That wasn’t the reaction for which she’d been hoping. “What is it?” she asked.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing.”
He sat on a stump beside her and stared out at the water. Audrey watched his profile, wondering—as she so often did—what he was thinking. More and more lately he seemed to drift from her, his thoughts going to a private place where she wasn’t invited
. It hurt. She couldn’t deny that. But she had to give him room, she knew. He had a lot of recovering to do, a lot of memories to get past. She’d heard of that, of soldiers falling apart, unable to handle the postwar world. Some of them even ended up in insane asylums, she’d heard. Not that Danny was anywhere near that bad. It’s just that, well, lately she had started to miss the warmth of his eyes more and more.
“I don’t need to say yes if you think—”
He turned his head quickly. “I never said that,” he snapped. She blinked at his unexpected tone, then Danny clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Sorry,” he said, his voice back to normal. “No, no, Audrey. I think it’s fantastic, you painting and all. Folks should pay you. You’re great at it.”
“Then . . .” She looked away from him, letting her gaze go toward the sea as he had. “What’s wrong?”
He shook his head, then dropped his stare to the grass. “No, really. It’s great. It’s only . . . the thing is, I’d feel better if you didn’t have to work.”
It was worse than she’d thought. When their eyes met, she saw hurt swimming in the depths of his that she hadn’t seen before, and she suddenly understood why. It had been hard enough on his ego that she’d paid for her own passage to Canada. She knew he, as a man, wanted to be the valiant knight and whisk her across the sea all on his own, but reality had stepped in. The tragedy of his loss was one part of that reality, but the other was her job. She was aware some people were uncomfortable at the idea that she’d even had a job, but because of it, she’d been able to afford coming to Canada. She’d wanted to help—but the truth was a man like Danny didn’t want help. Especially with money. He’d been forced to swallow his pride once already, and she knew it had carried a bitter taste.
Danny went out fishing sometimes, hauling lobster traps when the sea was calm enough that his precarious state of balance wasn’t constantly threatened. He could manage some fur trapping if he didn’t have to stray too far into the dense bush. He could hunt, but not much. He’d mostly given up on his wooden leg, finding it cumbersome and uncomfortable, since its edges chafed the tender pink skin of his scars. And when he walked in the woods, his crutch caught on protruding roots, catching him off guard so he stumbled. He was frustrated and embarrassed and becoming more bitter by the day.
Tides of Honour Page 14