Her father, Lukas Sebastian. The man who wore the green scarf on the ship. Who went on to Coventry from Plymouth, and who probably died there. It won’t be difficult now to obtain the information.
THAT BLESS’ED STATE
HANORA SITS AT HER COMPUTER, MARIAH’S diaries by her side. She writes the first paragraphs, a symbolic start. Words will change as she goes along, as she writes and rewrites and edits. The fact that she is beginning is what is important.
Mariah Bindle was born Monday, June 28, 1886, in an upstairs bedroom of her parents’ farm. The farmhouse was the original family homestead, located south of Madoc in Hastings County, in the province of Ontario. Mariah’s father took horse and buggy to fetch the local midwife, having been warned not to dawdle. The midwife had explained that the birth of the fifth child would no doubt be quick, given the history of his wife’s deliveries.
When the midwife was brought to the bedside, the father led his two sons and two daughters, all under the age of twelve, outside to await the news. The baby’s name was decided in advance. The children had been allowed to make suggestions. If the baby was a girl, Mariah was the favoured name.
Mariah Bindle, youngest of the five Bindle children, grew up to become an outstanding artist and diarist, and left a stunning visual record of the turbulent eras that marked the first half of the twentieth century.
She stops there. Filmore is at the door, ready for their drive to Hastings County. They are expected at Mariah’s homestead, but first, Hanora will visit the Ninth Concession. She has directions to the former O’Neill farm. The farm where Maggie and Am lived at the time of the death of their babies. Cause of death, diphtheria. Cause of heartbreak, death. Hanora’s half-brother and half-sister. She will visit the site of their unmarked graves. She knows their names.
Donal.
Annie.
She has looked up the record of their births and deaths. Once she had a key piece of information, the rest was easy to find. She also has the date of the auction and sale of the farm before Maggie and Am moved to Deseronto. Before Maggie met Luc.
Can sorrow and joy coexist? They did for Maggie. And for Luc. They do now, for Hanora.
She will bring some of Mariah’s drawings with her on the trip. She wants to be certain she’s in the right place when she and Filmore walk around the farm. Filmore will take photos. She has the drawing of the copse where Mariah and her aunt Clarice ate their lunch on auction day in 1902. The drawing shows the indent in the earth beneath the shelter of the maple. The owners of the property know Hanora is coming and have assured her that they are aware of the location. They will lead her to the spot, not far from the original farmhouse. The ground has not been disturbed since the burial.
THEY set out early. Hanora’s plans are ambitious. If necessary, she and Filmore will stay at an inn in Prince Edward County overnight, and complete their journey tomorrow. Hanora doesn’t want to rush or be rushed. She will take notes and she needs good, clear photos, especially of the property and the farmhouse—both outside and in—where Mariah was born more than a century ago.
This probably will end up being a two-day trip, because she has also promised to stop in Deseronto on her way home, to visit Breeda. Hanora feels the need to see her childhood friend, as well as the town and all its changes. If, indeed, it has changed at all since Tress died. She will have to see for herself.
She is comfortable travelling with Filmore. He is good company. He makes her laugh. They have enjoyed many evenings together, and have been out for dinner several times. He is now working on his article about Kenan’s photos.
Her new friendship with Filmore is an unexpected event in Hanora’s life. She was content to be alone, live alone, work alone. But now she looks forward to the time she spends with him. She has told him the story, the stories, recently uncovered. He has not told her about his time in Italy, but that will come. She wants to know what happened there; she wants to hear his stories. She met several times with Jack, and knows what the Canadians did—what Tobe did, how he lived and died—but she wants to hear Filmore’s stories, too.
Both she and Filmore are old enough to know that life moves on. That people learn to live with love and regret and loss. Sometimes loss is so great, there is nothing to be done, nothing to be said. Both have learned to welcome happiness, friendship, companionship, when these present themselves. They learn anew. Count their stars. Look up or do not look up. Make choices. Continue to create the lives they want to live, to become the people they want to be.
IDENTITY?
THE WEEKEND AFTER THE TRIP, HANORA VISITS Billie on a sunny afternoon. She carries a plastic bag that contains two of the card boxes from the seaman’s chest.
Billie is in her TV chair and looks over when Hanora arrives.
“Hanora. Are you out doing errands? Is that why you’re here?”
“I’m here to see you, Billie. I brought some old things you might like to look through.”
“You and your old things,” says Billie, but her interest has been sparked.
Hanora suggests that they go outside to sit in the gardens, and Billie readily agrees. She doesn’t leave her room when she’s alone, but she likes to be out in the air and will go when Hanora is there to take her.
They choose a circular table in the garden. A wide lawn umbrella inserted through a hole in the centre of the table provides shade. There is a slight breeze, pleasantly warm air. Hanora feels the breeze against her skin and sinks back in her own chair after Billie is settled. Her cousin moves more slowly these days, and is beginning to look frail. Her cane is hooked over the arm of her chair. Hanora looks at Billie and wonders if she would ever be able to understand.
She removes the lid of the first box and passes it to Billie. This contains the cards of thanks from her former students, along with photos they sent over the years—marriage clippings, obituaries, life stories, Christmas cards.
Billie becomes excited. She doesn’t recall names, but some are written on the backs of the photos. Others are only dated. She laughs aloud in pleasure.
The second box contains a few coded letters from childhood. Hanora wants to see what Billie can make of these. And the photo of the scar.
Billie is confused by the letters and doesn’t remember receiving or sending anything in code. When shown the photo of the scar across the back of her thigh, she fidgets uncomfortably.
“That was your fault, Hanora,” she says. “You’re the one who dared me to climb the tree. You’re the one who made me fall.”
But that isn’t the way Hanora remembers the accident. Not at all.
At that moment, afternoon tea is brought out on a wheeled trolley. Staff members carry cups of tea and coffee around to the tables. Snacks are served: small squares of pizza, and fresh fruit chopped into small, manageable chunks.
A man and woman wander over and ask if they might sit at their table. Hanora hasn’t seen either of them before. They tell her they are new to the place, a married couple, and have moved into a suite on the second floor. They introduce themselves as Claire and Marcel.
Billie looks them over and sips at her tea. She’s had enough of the boxes and pushes them across the table to Hanora. She addresses the new residents who have joined them. “You’re Marcel,” she says, as if to clarify and remember. “And you are Claire.”
She looks across the table at Hanora, and says, “You are Hanora.”
And then, looking anxious, she asks in a faltering voice, almost a whisper, as if speaking confidentially and only to Hanora: “Who did you say I am?”
“AIR CONDITIONED JUNGLE”
HANORA RETURNS TO HER APARTMENT, GOES directly to Duke’s music and selects “Air Conditioned Jungle.” She stretches out on the chesterfield to listen.
The music has an unusual title, but contains a powerful solo voice. At first, it’s as if a bird has been spotted in the sky, a new life bursting with dazzle from the blue. The music slows because it can, because it has shown what it can be. Now it drifts
, lilting, changing direction as mood and currents change.
Someone knows something. Clarinet leads, clarinet has the inside story. Jimmy Hamilton. Up and down the notes the story goes. Insistent, eager to share the news.
Excitement, now. Follow the main thread, punctuate. Someone adds darker bits with growly undertones. Bass all the way through. Low brass. Scuttlebutt. All-out, down-and-dirty news. Followed by comment, running notes up and down, conversation jumping lip to lip, ear to ear.
And finally, the word sails on past because everyone is ready for a new topic. The music blares to a finale. In slightly more than two minutes.
Imagine.
Imagine sending news that fast. Receiving because you are part of the message. Belonging to the larger scene. Owning what everyone owns. Knowing what everyone knows. Knowing what it feels like to belong.
Listen to the beauty of this man’s clarinet, and weep.
Hanora does not weep. Not now.
If she weeps, it will be because of the wonder of Jimmy Hamilton’s brilliance. The music, the clarinet, each of the other instruments. Together, they convey what they know to be complex and true.
MARIAH’S diaries are stacked in her office, every one of them read. The book’s first chapter is complete. The sketchpads and drawings are laid out in rows on the living-room rug. One of these depicts Maggie and her horse, the day of the auction, August 2, 1902. Maggie was twenty-six years old when she and her husband sold their farm and moved to town. Thankfully, Mariah did return to the drawing, having been moved by Maggie’s reluctance to sell the horse.
In the finished drawing, Maggie wears her hair down long. There is beauty and tenderness in her face as she leans into the horse. One arm is hooked over the horse’s neck. The other droops at her side. There is a sadness about the way the arm droops. This is a parting, and Mariah has captured that parting.
Maggie resembles Hanora. Hanora resembles Maggie. She plans to ask the Bindle descendants if she will be allowed to purchase the drawing. She is almost certain they will agree after she explains her relationship to the woman.
Hanora closes her eyes. There is a pause. She holds that pause. She holds it because she is waiting now, for the music to change.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My sincere thanks go to the adoptees who generously shared personal, intimate and moving stories, all of which helped in important ways while I created the character of Hanora.
Among many books consulted for research, I acknowledge Let’s Dance! A Celebration of Ontario’s Dance Halls and Summer Dance Pavilions by Peter Young; Jack F. De Long’s Summer Dance Pavilions: Bay of Quinte Area; Michael Macklem’s translation of Samuel de Champlain: Voyages to New France 1599–1603; Champlain’s Dream by David Hackett Fischer; Picture History of the French Line by William H. Miller, Jr.; the very helpful biography Beyond Category: The Life and Genius of Duke Ellington by John Edward Hasse; Duke Ellington by James Lincoln Collier; Boy Meets Horn by Rex Stewart; The Log of Christopher Columbus, translated by Robert H. Fuson; and Barbara Mitchell’s new book, Mapmaker: Philip Turnor in Rupert’s Land in the Age of Enlightenment. For an account of the Hastings and Prince Edward Regiment (the Hasty Ps) in Italy, I relied on Farley Mowat’s The Regiment (introduction by Lee Windsor). The film Sizzle is a 1981 Aaron Spelling production. “Fame and Friendship” is by Henry Austin Dobson (1840–1924). Websites consulted include canadianwarbrides.com and flickr.com/photos/deserontoarchives. For Duke’s music, I draw attention to Duke Ellington Masterpieces 1926–1949, Proper Records Ltd.
Love and thanks to my (musician) son, Russell Satoshi Itani, for discussions of Ellington’s compositions. Thank you, Charles Magill, for sharing childhood memories of the Blitz; for your memoir, A Very British Boyhood; and for bringing to my attention Balanced Menus for School Canteen Dinners by K. Magill and F.E. Morkam. Thank you, Dr. Antoine Hakim, Neurologist and Patient Advocate, for discussions about dementia and concussion, and for your book Save Your Mind: Seven Rules to Avoid Dementia. My gratitude goes to Amanda Hill, archivist for Community Archives of Belleville and Hastings County; Jeffrey Atwood for finding the film; Frances Cherry; Jane Anderson; Carol Reid at the Canadian War Museum; Evan Morton, curator at the Tweed and Area Heritage Centre; Bill Summers for giving me a grand tour of the renovated Tweed Dance Pavilion, constructed in 1929 (now operated by the Kiwanis Club of Tweed); Jack Granatstein for responding so willingly to my questions; Frances Hill for memories of the Depression years; Carrie Oliver; Al Stoliker; Joel Oliver for tracking down period magazines and terrible cats; Edward and Amy Shubert, owners and hosts of the beautiful Merrill Inn in Picton, where I stay while doing research in Prince Edward County; Alexander Gates, manager and curator, Canadian Automotive Museum in Oshawa, for permitting close inspection of the wonderful 1934 McLaughlin Buick. I thank my agent, Jackie Kaiser, and my editor, Jennifer Lambert, for their wisdom, and Janice Weaver for her excellent input as copy editor. Thank you, Noelle Zitzer, at HarperCollins—how could I do this without you? Love to my daughter, Samantha Leiko Itani; you know what you do. And to Frances Michiko Itani, who sings with the birds. Finally, a very special thanks to Marilyn (Cowie) Lambourne, Russell Hansson, Raylene Lang-Dion, Jos Cleary, Natasha Hollywood, Beth Jackson . . . and the others, equally appreciated.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
FRANCES ITANI’s work includes Tell, shortlisted for the Scotiabank Giller Prize; Requiem, chosen by the Washington Post as one of the top fiction titles of the year; Remembering the Bones, shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers’ Prize; and the widely translated #1 bestseller Deafening, which won a Commonwealth Writers’ Prize, was shortlisted for the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award and was selected for CBC’s Canada Reads. A Member of the Order of Canada and a three-time winner of the CBC Literary Prize, Itani lives in Ottawa.
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ALSO BY FRANCES ITANI
FICTION
Tell
Listen!
Requiem
Missing
Remembering the Bones
Poached Egg on Toast
Deafening
Leaning, Leaning Over Water
Man Without Face
Pack Ice
Truth or Lies
POETRY
A Season of Mourning
Rentee Bay
No Other Lodgings
CHILDREN’S BOOKS
Best Friend Trouble
Linger by the Sea
CREDITS
Cover design by Laura Klynstra
Cover photograph by Daniel Frasnay/akg-images/The Image Works
COPYRIGHT
That’s My Baby
Copyright © by Itani Writes Inc.
All rights reserved.
All rights reserved under all applicable International Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of the publisher.
The lines from Florence Treadwell’s poem “Recalled” from Cleaving (© 1999) are reprinted with permission of the publisher, Ronsdale Press.
Published by HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
FIRST EDITION
EPub Edition: September 2017 ISBN: 9781443447829
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ISBN 978-1-44344-780-5
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