by Linda Abbott
Dot slid into the vacant seat. Henry sat next to Mary. He felt her tense when their thighs touched.
“I pray to God this weather breaks soon,” Dot said. She held out her hands, the knuckles crooked and thick. “It’s murder on my arthritis.”
Mary couldn’t quite pull off a smile. “Gramps suffered from it some bad, too.”
Henry resisted the urge to hold Mary in his arms.
Dot shimmied out of her coat. “Mary, you look a mite pale. Aren’t you feeling well ?”
“My migraine’s not quite gone. I’ll be all right in a while.”
Dot rested her back into the cushioned bench. “Thank heavens I don’t get them anymore. Now, Henry, I’d like a chicken dinner and a scalding cup of tea. Mary, would you like something to eat ?”
Mary swallowed as if the very thought of food was intolerable. “No thank you. My stomach’s still off from the migraine.”
“Maybe a light soup would help.”
“I really couldn’t hold down a thing right now,” Mary said. “Maybe some dry toast when I go home.”
Dot took money from her purse and handed it to her grandson. “Order what you want for yourself. It’s my treat.”
“He’ll pay for his own dinner,” Mary said as Henry walked away.
“I know.” Dot stared at Mary as if seeking to read her mind. “Dearie, tell me what really troubles you.”
“I told you.”
“My old eyes have witnessed more sadness and heartache than you can imagine. I recognize terrible worry when I see it.”
Mary rocked slowly.
“I know your habits, child,” Dot said. “You do that when you’re upset or worried.”
“The Hulls can be stubborn about repairs. I’m fearful for my job, that’s all.”
“That’s only a small part of it.”
Mary’s eyelids fluttered as she turned back to the window.
“Love,” Dot said softly. “I’ve known you since you were a baby. I want to help, not pass judgment on you.”
Mary slowly turned back to the older woman. “Really, Mrs. Gatherall,” she said, wringing her hands. “It’s just work.”
“Henry’s leaving can’t be easy for you.”
Tears welled in Mary’s already red eyes. “Henry doesn’t love me enough to stay.” She choked off the last word as he approached the table. A hand to the side of her face, she looked away when he sat beside her.
“Mary, are you crying ?” When she didn’t answer, Henry turned a quizzical face to his grandmother.
Mary looked at Dot. Panic flashed across her drawn features.
“Henry, dear,” Dot said. “She misses her grandfather. The loss is still fresh.”
Mary dabbed at her tears with a paper napkin. “I must look an awful mess.”
Dot slid out of the booth. “Nothing a splash of cold water won’t put right. Come along with me, child.”
The two women wove their way through the tables, now filled to capacity. Several people noticed Mary’s swollen eyes and quickly looked away when she caught them staring at her. Mary hurried on and pushed open the door to the ladies’ washroom. Pristine white walls gave the room a sterile hospital look. Water dripped from a faucet in two sinks. A row of mirrors reflected the stalls. The sound of footsteps passed outside, echoing farther into the distance. Relieved no one was there, Mary doused a paper towel with water and wiped her face, plastering strands of hair to her forehead. “I’m a little better now, Mrs. Gatherall.” She threw the soaked paper in the garbage container. “I wish Mr. Hull would let me in on what’s happening.”
Dot smiled at the young woman. “You’re not alone,” she said. “Never forget that.”
“That’s very kind of you, Mrs. Gatherall, but I’m all right, like I said.” Mary spattered more water on her face and touched up her lipstick. “Please tell Henry I’ll see him at work.”
Dot combed her hair, washed her hands, and returned to the booth. “Mary’s gone home,” she said.
Henry hadn’t touched his fish and chips. “Gran, she seemed really distracted and I’m sure she’d been crying. Is she honestly that worried about her job ?”
“No, Henry. I think it’s more than a job.”
*
A FULL MOON AND A sky thick with winking stars hung over the city when Henry left his grandmother at Hull Home. After lunch, they had visited all the stores on Water Street and, to Henry’s utter disbelief, Dot hadn’t bought another thing. Now, anxious to get out of the cold, he walked briskly up Springdale Street to Central Street. The familiar smell of baking bread from Walsh’s Bakery gave Henry a sense of comfort and he made a decision. He neared Mary’s house and slowed. She hadn’t left his thoughts since the Captain’s Cabin. She had never been so distant with him, not even in the days following her grandfather’s death. He knocked on her door.
Mary answered on the first tap, dressed in boots, coat, and hat. “I saw you from the kitchen window and figured you’d want to talk.” She closed the door behind her. “So let’s get it over with.”
“Why don’t we go somewhere warm for a cup of tea ?”
“I’d rather walk. The air will help me think clearly.”
Henry fell into step beside her. As it was suppertime, they had the street to themselves. They moved in silence, the space between them wide enough for another person. “I told you about applying to medical school,” Henry said when he couldn’t stand the quiet any longer. “Why are you upset that I’ve been accepted ?” Mary stared ahead. He searched her profile for a clue to her feelings. “Say something,” he said. She made no attempt to speak. Henry reached for her. She eluded him and continued to walk. “How do you feel now that I’m leaving for sure ?” he said.
“Yes, you did tell me about the decision to apply. But you didn’t consult me or ask how I felt about it.”
“I hoped you’d be happy for me.”
Mary turned to him, her eyes ablaze. “Did you give any thought to me or to our future together ?”
Henry looked down at his feet. “I grabbed at this one chance to make something of myself. I couldn’t, can’t think about anything else.”
Mary took a few steps toward him. “You’ll be away for at least eight years. What am I supposed to do in the meantime ? Twiddle my thumbs ? Read ? Or would you rather I pine after you like a lovesick schoolgirl ?”
“We... we’ll sort something out.”
“Be serious, Henry. I’ll be close to thirty years old by the time you’re done. There’s a right good chance you’ll meet someone else.” She slumped, drained of energy. “Besides, I don’t want to be sorted out.”
Henry’s mouth opened but no words came out.
Mary sighed. “I went out with someone a full year before you. When you and I made love you were well aware it was my first time.”
“I don’t get what you’re trying to say.”
“Really, Henry. Then allow me to explain.” Mary moved even closer to him. “You’ve known me my entire life. I’m not a casual person. I believed we were committed to each other, intended to spend our lives together.”
“You make it sound like I played with your feelings, used you.”
“Think about it, Henry. One way or another, isn’t that exactly what you did ?”
Henry wanted to say something, anything, but he couldn’t get his tongue to function.
Mary stood tall. “Don’t worry. I won’t stand in your way.”
“Mary.” Henry reached out to her. She shrugged away from his touch. “We have to talk about this.” He didn’t recognize his own voice.
“Everything isn’t always about you, Henry.” Mary pushed past him and ran back to her house.
Henry stared at her, his face whiter than the snow which had just begun to whirl around him.
Chapter 6
MARY STARED OUT THE BEDROOM window as night gave way to day. The stars, which had dotted the sky like silver sparkles, had faded. White, fluffy clouds glided slowly, waiting for smaller clouds
to catch up. Mary blew out her breath and watched it transform into a grey mist. The smell of bacon drifted into her room. Her stomach growled, yet the thought of food chased away her appetite.
Light footsteps ran down the front hall and her mother’s voice chimed through the house. “Dougie, don’t forget to put on your cap. It’s extra nippy this morning.”
Dougie had delivered the morning Daily News and Mary heard the front door slam when he came in. She scrunched into a ball and covered her head.
“No need to shake the whole house,” she heard her mother mumble on the stairs.
Mary closed her eyes to fight back tears.
Her mother came into the room. “Love, you’re not up yet. Are you under the weather ?” She took hold of Mary’s chin to study her face, the way she had done when Mary was a child.
“Where’d those dark circles come from ?”
“Mom, I’m worried Hull Home might have to close.”
“You’re whiter than new bedsheets. It must be more than that.”
Mary lifted the quilts from her like it was a delicate operation and rolled over to the side of the bed. She held onto her head. “I have another migraine. The pain’s so bad I can’t see straight.”
“Stay put. I’ll bring you up a cup of hot tea and call Mr. Hull.”
“That’s not necessary, Mom.”
Flora produced one of the sad smiles that had become the norm since her father’s passing. She kissed her daughter’s cold cheek. “One day’s loss of wages won’t send us to the poorhouse.”
“Really, Mom. My head’s not bad enough to miss work.”
Flora’s hand flew to her mouth. “Oh, dear me,” she said. “It just occurred to me you’re upset about Henry.”
“He’s not the only man in the world,” Mary said.
“Love, denying your true feelings won’t make them go away.”
Mary rocked to help cope with the drumming in her head, which radiated down to her shoulders. The bed creaked. “I can’t think about anything right now, Mom.”
Flora went to the door. “I don’t mean to preach, but running from the truth helps no one,” she said with a crack in her voice. “Breakfast is ready. Don’t be long.”
Mary opened the night table drawer and took out a picture of her father. He looked up at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. A tear splashed onto the glass and slid down to the wooden frame. She tossed the photo back in the drawer and slammed it shut. Her head almost exploded from the loud thud.
*
SCRAMBLED EGGS, BACON, HAM, AND tea awaited Mary when she went downstairs. She succeeded in keeping down a piece of ham.
“You’ll get sick if you don’t eat,” her mother said when she pushed the food away.
Mary drained the tea in one gulp. “Mom, you know my stomach’s always off with a migraine.”
Flora picked up the phone by the side of the fridge. “1590 M please,” she said.
Mary spun in her chair to look at her mother. “What are you doing ?”
Flora held a hand over the mouthpiece. “I’m calling Mr. Hull to tell him you’re sick and won’t be in today.”
Mary took the phone and cancelled the call. “Mom, I told you I’m all right. Anyway, the fresh air will do me good.
“Promise me you’ll eat something when you get to the Home.”
“I will,” Mary said.
She bundled up with an extra scarf wrapped around her nose and mouth. Within seconds the air penetrated the woollen material, drying her mouth and stinging the back of her throat. A heavy snowfall overnight made walking more difficult. Her headache dulled to a tolerable throb. People merely nodded as they plodded by, eager to reach their destinations and bask in precious warmth. Grey clouds gathered, darkening an already gloomy day. Mary arrived at the Home and promptly put on a pot of tea. She toasted one slice of bread to quell her nausea. Her stomach churned even more at the first nibble.
Dot strolled into the kitchen. “How are you today ?” she asked, her eyes on the toast Mary had hardly touched. “Still don’t have much of an appetite ?”
“Has Mr. Hull brought up the inspection to you ?” Mary said, lowering her voice.
“I see you’re not ready to admit what’s really troubling you,” Dot said. “That’s fine for now.” She looked down the hall. “By the way, there’s no need to whisper.”
Mary’s face relaxed. “Mr. Hull doesn’t like me to meddle in his business.”
“If the Home closes it will matter to us all.” Dot poured a mug of tea and took a sip. “Mr. Hull’s not spoken a word to me. He doesn’t appear worried either.” She moved the cup back and forth between her hands. “With what was printed in the paper, I’d be a little more anxious in his place.”
Mary nibbled at a corner of the dry, crusty toast. “Is he here ?”
“Stayed all night again. He made breakfast and left when he received a call from his wife.”
Mary stopped chewing. “She’s gotten bad news about the Home !”
“Not at all,” Dot said. “Mrs. Hull has the sniffles and wanted Mr. Hull to fetch some cough syrup.” She chuckled. “Mrs. Hull demands immediate attention.”
Nurse Jean Baker entered the kitchen wearing an extra sweater. “The rooms are hard to keep warm in the winter,” she said, taking two mugs from a rack on the sink counter. “I don’t want Sheila Vickers to catch pneumonia on top of tuberculosis. Hot tea and toast will do the trick.”
“How is she ?” Mary asked.
“Dr. Kennedy stopped by earlier to see her. He’s pleased with her progress.”
Dot retrieved a tray for the nurse. “The poor darling wants to be home by Easter.”
“That isn’t likely to happen,” Jean said. “She’ll be here until Christmas for sure.”
Dot placed milk and sugar on the tray. “Susan enjoys mystery books. I’ll go by the library to take out a few for her.”
“She’ll appreciate that,” Jean said, and left with the tray loaded down with tea, gingersnap cookies, and toast.
“Now, Mary,” Dot said once they were alone again. “Did you get an opportunity to talk to Henry ?”
Mary rinsed her cup. “Yes. I told him to go to Toronto and not give me another thought.”
BY NOON, MARY HAD SCRUBBED the upstairs hallway in the main house and made all the beds, including those in the Annex. She found it easy to avoid Henry, as he rarely left the office. Her stomach had settled down by one o’clock. The hunger pangs which had gnawed at her all morning drove her to the kitchen. She hadn’t packed a lunch and helped herself to a bowl of the tomato soup simmering in an oversized pot on the stove. She crumbled a handful of salted crackers into the thick red liquid. The first taste burned the tip of her tongue. She blew on the next one before gingerly putting it into her mouth.
Mary slurped at the last dregs of soup in the bowl when Mr. Hull returned. “Good afternoon,” she said. “I hope your wife is doing better.”
Mr. Hull passed the table without a word or a glance at Mary. He stirred the pot, his eyes glued to one spot on the wall.
Mary stood up. “Mr. Hull. Are you all right ?”
He turned around. “Oh. Mary. I didn’t see you there.” Soup dripped from the ladle to the floor. He didn’t notice even when several drops found his shoe.
Mary carried her dirty dishes to the sink. “Is anything the matter ?”
“Not a thing,” Mr. Hull said, resuming the task at hand.
Mary wiped crumbs from the table. “I’ll see if the residents are ready for dinner.”
Mr. Hull opened a loaf of baker’s bread. “Good idea,” he said, again not looking at her.
Mary glanced back at her employer as she left the kitchen. He swayed slightly and stirred the pot with both hands as if the soup resisted his efforts. “He’s acting some strange,” she murmured under her breath on the way to the dining room at the far end of the hall. Many of the residents had assembled for dinner, their voices buzzing as they waited for the midday meal to be serv
ed. The walls were white, the top half covered with striped green wallpaper. Lighted by a single light bulb in the centre of the ceiling, dark green curtains were pulled wide open on the large side window. Dot and two other women occupied a table set for four. Mary sat down next to Dot.
“Mary,” the woman across from her said, “what’s the soup for today ?”
Mary produced a crooked smile. “Tomato, I’m afraid.”
The woman groaned. “That makes five days in a row.”
“Oh, well,” the tiny woman next to her said. “At least it’ll be nice and hot.” She pulled her cardigan more snugly around her thin waist. “It’s cold enough in here to wear long johns.” Her teeth chattered.
The two elderly widows continued with the soup conversation, giving Mary the chance to speak in private with Dot. “Mr. Hull seems a tad out of sorts.” She bent close to Dot. “I had the impression he was tipsy.”
“He does like a nip or two every now and again.”
“Has he heard back from City Council or the Fire Department ?”
“As a matter of fact — ”
“I knew it,” Mary said, cutting across her. “He has to correct all the violations, doesn’t he ?” She babbled on. “He’ll close down rather than spend all that money.”
Dot wagged a finger in front of Mary’s face. “You need to give up that habit of always leaping to hasty conclusions,” she said. “He merely received a letter from the city stating they weren’t aware he operated a nursing home. That’s all.”
Mary twirled strands of hair around her forefinger. “Why go to the trouble of an inspection if they don’t intend to enforce the recommendations ?”
“That’s City Hall for you,” Dot said.
Mary gazed around the dining room. “That does it,” she said. “They have the power to close the Home.”
“Child,” Dot said. “What a thing to say. They wouldn’t put sick people and old folk on the street in this weather.”
Mary pushed back the chair and rose to her feet. “Don’t bet all your savings on that. I’d better get to the kitchen before Mr. Hull has a fit,” she said, and bustled away.