What was your question? It’s like you said, there were deep dark secrets in our family, things you never talk about. Yes, the death of Noah’s father was one of them. I know my father let Abram Whalen drown on purpose.
Why did I go out with Noah back then? Revenge on my father. I always rebelled against him. I was wild, I admit. It’s not by chance that I chose this profession. I know how easily young people can get sidetracked.
I got along well with Mother. But Jacinta was Daddy’s little darling girl. He sicced her on me. She was always spying on me. I really couldn’t do anything about it; father was to blame. Of course, I didn’t realize it at the time. She was just a pain. And then she found out about me and Cletus. I’ve come to think that Cletus must’ve tipped her off. Why? Probably to get at Noah. He never liked Noah. But it was my fault too. I should never have gotten mixed up with Cletus. But, like I told you already, I was a mess. I drank a lot. You do things and then later you wish you hadn’t. I got knocked up. I knew right away it was Cletus’s. I just knew. And Fred, my oldest, is the spitting image of Cletus. But Cletus didn’t want to let Greta go. I went looking for the two of them in the woods. Jacinta followed me as usual. I tried to shake her. I ran as fast as I could. She yelled that if I didn’t wait for her, she’d tell father about Cletus and me.
I took a shortcut through the bog because I thought she wouldn’t dare follow. I knew a safe path. But she didn’t. I couldn’t shake her off. I mean, not right away.
I heard her shout but just ignored it. I was so furious at her. I ran through the woods on the other side of the bog. But then I heard Cletus shouting. I went back to the edge of the woods and saw Cletus crawling on his stomach across the bog. Then I saw Jacinta’s head. It all happened so fast.
No, I didn’t move a muscle. I just watched Cletus. I knew Dad would kill me if he found out.
Greta? Never saw her at all. When Cletus crawled back, I hid so he wouldn’t see me. I ran back to the dig and worked for a couple of hours like nothing had happened. What was I supposed to do? It was too late for Jacinta.
Then I sneaked away. I found Cletus in the shed behind his mother’s house. Selina was working in the fish plant at the time and wasn’t home.
I told him the whole story. Sure, he was surprised, but not shocked. Cletus wasn’t easily shocked. He was always so angry at everybody. Always believed they were doing him wrong.
“I don’t want to leave her in there,” I told Cletus. “She needs a proper grave.”
We laid down boards so we could walk on the bog and pulled Jacinta out with ropes. That is, Cletus pulled her out and I helped; he was strong as a bear.
What about the dirt on my clothes? I wore old clothes at the dig because you always get dirty there. I used to carry clean clothes with me. We didn’t have much time. It was going on six and I had to get home.
“I’ll finish up,” Cletus said. “I’ll make her a grave, but not here—it’ll be discovered too fast.”
How could I ever suspect what he had in mind? A grave similar to that prehistoric grave. He wanted to throw suspicion on the archaeologists. Because they fired him. He’d never forgiven them. But everyone suspected Noah.
My family moved away. That was OK by me. I went to Edmonton, for work and because of the baby. I brought Fred into the world. Then I got married.
No, he never got in touch with me. Cletus never knew about his child. Noah either. What was I supposed to say to him?
But his sister Robine called me a few months ago. She knew about Cletus’s child. My ex-husband must have broadcast it. He was so angry about the divorce.
And a woman from Vancouver tracked me down. No, not the photographer—she just called recently. I didn’t want to see her. No, she was friendly. She said she knew what it was like to live with a ghost from the past.
I was in no way prepared to talk about it, so I hung up. But I knew that things wouldn’t be the same for long.
That it was all going to catch up with me.
At long last.
AUTHOR’S ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would first like to thank the Canadian fishermen on the Great Northern Peninsula in Newfoundland who were the inspiration for this novel. They fearlessly go out in their little boats onto the wild North Atlantic and risk their lives to feed their families. Their courage, their modesty, and their resilience have made a profound impression on me. Like my heroine, Lori Finning, I borrowed their rubber boots and life jackets. These men would give you the shirt off their backs.
The coastal fishermen took me out on their boats and taught me about their hard work. I strove for accuracy and attention to detail in this book. If nevertheless some errors have slipped in, they are all attributable to me.
I know from my own experience what life is like in a Newfoundland fishing village, a so-called outport. I lived for months in such a community and met many friendly and helpful people. The village of Stormy Cove is a product of my imagination, as are the people inhabiting it.
The history of the Canadian province of Newfoundland and Labrador is fascinating. Some historical events and facts have found their way into this novel. Anybody wishing to read more about its history will find a wealth of information in the books listed under “Works Consulted.” The Canadian archaeologist Robert McGhee patiently gave me information about prehistoric burial mounds. The prehistoric grave in the present novel is, to be sure, not identical with the site in L’Anse Amour in Labrador. The excavations there were carefully organized by knowledgeable professionals. The excavation in the present book is very different. Here I gave free rein to my imagination.
What would an author be without sample readers?
Peter and Rosa Stenberg, Susanna Niederer, Erika Imhof, Klaus Uhr, Gisela Dalvit, and Susanne Keller—you have rendered an invaluable service with your criticisms, suggestions, and enthusiasm. I am deeply in your debt with gratitude.
The editor Anna Rosenwong polished my translated manuscript with admirable knowledge and care.
I am also impressed by the commitment and competence of the AmazonCrossing team: Gabriella Page-Fort, who ferreted out and acquired my books for the North American market; the marketing team, whose skills saw to it that my novels continue to find a growing market. And last but not least: my wonderful and prolific translator, Gerald Chapple, who repeated the miracle of recreating my story in English—a process that leaves me awestruck. His wife, Nina Chapple, a highly attentive reader, knows how to put the proverbial dot on the i. To all of you, my warmest thanks!
TRANSLATOR’S ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
I would like to acknowledge with much gratitude the indispensable help of the following people in making this translation possible. Gabriella Page-Fort of AmazonCrossing, who again expertly navigated a manuscript through the acquisition and publishing processes with steady support and unfailing good humor. Anna Rosenwong did an outstandingly thorough job of editing; Brittany Dowdle did excellent “arm’s-length” copyediting; and the translator’s wife and patient first reader, Nina, gave as always a fledgling manuscript an insightful scrubbing. Special tribute is due the novel’s author, Bernadette Calonego, the sine qua non, for giving the translation of the novel she created several scrupulous examinations and providing a host of improvements and corrections. Any residual errors or infelicities remain the responsibility of the translator.
WORKS CONSULTED
Beckel, Annemarie. Silence of Stone: A Novel of Marguerite de Roberval. St. John’s: Breakwater Books, 2008.
McGhee, Robert. The Burial at L’Anse-Amour. Ottawa: National Museum of Man, 1976.
Tuck, James A., and Robert J. McGhee. “An Archaic Indian Burial Mound in Labrador,” Scientific American 235, no. 5 (November 1976), 122–29.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Photo © Rae Ellingham
Bernadette Calonego was born in Switzerland and grew up on the shores of Lake Lucerne. She was just eleven years old when she published her first story, in a Swiss newspaper. She went on to earn a teaching degree f
rom the University of Fribourg, which she put to good use in England and Switzerland before switching gears to become a journalist. After several years working with the Reuters news agency and a series of German-language newspapers, she moved to Canada and began writing fiction. Stormy Cove is her fourth novel. As a foreign correspondent, she has published stories in Vogue, GEO, and SZ Magazin. She splits her time between Vancouver, British Columbia, and Newfoundland.
For more information, visit www.bernadettecalonego.com.
ABOUT THE TRANSLATOR
Photo © 2015 Nina Chapple
Gerald Chapple is an award-winning translator of German literature. He received his doctorate at Harvard and went on to teach German and comparative literature at McMaster University in Hamilton, Ontario. He has been translating contemporary German-language authors for over forty years, especially the poetry of Günter Kunert. His recent prose translations include Michael Mitterauer’s probing history of Europe from 600 to 1600, Why Europe? Medieval Origins of Its Special Path; Anita Albus’s wonderfully idiosyncratic book, On Rare Birds; and Bernadette Calonego’s earlier novels for AmazonCrossing, The Zurich Conspiracy and Under Dark Waters, as well as three other novels for the same publisher. Since choosing early retirement, he’s lived in Dundas, Ontario, with his wife, Nina, an architectural historian. When not translating, he can usually be found studying birds, butterflies, and dragonflies; reading; listening to classical music, or enjoying his children and grandchildren in New York.
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