What the Heart Keeps

by Rosalind Laker

  Peter came to the cash desk to settle for the meal. “Thank you, Mae,” he said seriously. She knew he wasn’t referring to the well-cooked food or the service or even for the pennies and nickels she was handing him in change.

  “You’re welcome,” she replied, wishing she could give warning that he should go away and stay away before anything went seriously wrong.

  As he and Lisa left the building she crossed to the window and watched them say goodbye. The ache of it reached her and she pressed a be-ringed hand against her bosom as if the pain echoed there. They did not touch or kiss, only gazed at each other as they spoke some soft words of farewell. Then Lisa turned quickly to hurry, without looking back, along the road that led to the habitations around the sawmill. He, as if determined not to make their parting conspicuous, set off in the opposite direction to go striding out of sight.

  Late that night, the bleep of the horn on Alan’s automobile announced his return with Minnie. Lisa flew out of the house as the girl alighted. They hugged each other, exclaiming excitedly until Minnie drew back, straightening her hat, which had been knocked askew.

  “Hey! I wanted to look my best when you saw me again. I made Mr. Fernley stop along the road to let me look in my mirror and tidy my hair. I wear it up now. Can you see?”

  “Only enough out here in the darkness to tell me you’ve really grown up. Come into the house where there’s some light.” Lisa tucked the girl’s arm in hers and together they went indoors while Alan unstrapped the trunk on the luggage rack at the rear of the automobile. Minnie, breaking free, whirled around to face her and strike a pose reminiscent of a mannequin in a fashion magazine.

  “Well, Lisa?” Eagerness and trepidation. “What do you think?”

  Ever the desperate need for reassurance. That, at least, had not changed. Otherwise three years had wrought a remarkable difference. Minnie was still herself in many ways, but she had grown taller with a slight and yet lovely figure which made her simple, home-made clothes appear to be much more stylish than they really were. Her glossy dark hair, of which she was justly proud, was dressed similarly to Lisa’s own with a middle parting and drawn back to a knot at the back of the head, since pompadour fashions were no longer the mode. Her features, always good without a commonplace prettiness, had taken on a beguiling piquancy through which her personality shone with a diamond brightness. When she reached the age of twenty, and some of her gaucheness had evaporated, she would be breathtaking.

  “You’ve grown into a lovely-looking girl!” Lisa pronounced with perfect honesty.

  “Have I really?”

  Lisa moved forward with a chuckle to take her by the arm again. “Don’t fish for more compliments. In any case, you don’t want them from me really. We’ll leave that to the boys you will be getting to know around here. Now I’ll show you to your room.”

  Minnie was pleased when she saw it and admired everything from the bouquet of fresh flowers in a vase on the chest of drawers to the rainbow colours of the patchwork quilt. Alan brought up the baggage, which consisted of a small tin trunk, and set it down on the floor.

  “It weighs a ton,” he joked. “Did you bring half the rocks of Granite Bay with you?”

  “I’ve collected quite a lot of things in three years and I didn’t want to leave anything behind.” Minnie sparkled at him coquettishly. “Anyway, the weight of that trunk is nothing to someone as strong as you.”

  He gave her a sideways, smiling glance without rising to the bait and went downstairs again. Lisa, observing her, decided that Minnie had learned a great deal in three years. “How was Evangeline Jackson when you left her?” Lisa was wondering how much of the girl’s new attitude was due to the companionship of the Jacksons’ precocious daughter.

  Minnie, removing her hat to put it away on the closet shelf, made a face. “We were scarcely speaking at the end. I was blamed for everything, needless to say.”

  “Blamed for what?”

  Minnie’s gaze shifted. “You mean Mrs. Jackson hasn’t written to you?”

  “Yes, I’ve had at least three or four letters about their going back East and over your travel arrangements and so forth. What else was there?”

  Fluffing up her flattened hair with her fingers, Minnie gave a sigh. “Trust Mrs. Jackson to make a martyr of herself to the end. She’s too meek and kind for her own good. That’s why she could never keep a teaching post before she came to Granite Bay. Evangeline told me. Discipline went to pieces in a schoolhouse when Mrs. Jackson moved in. There are some teachers who invite persecution and Mrs. Jackson is one of them.”

  “Yet she taught you well, and you have excelled at the piano, according to reports that we have received from her.”

  “A class of two hard-working pupils in her own home was a different case altogether. I was determined to catch up with all the schooling I had lost through no fault of yours, Lisa, and Evangeline’s pride wouldn’t allow me to get the better marks. Evangeline always had to be the first with everything and everybody. She had the advantage of me academically, being naturally bright, whereas I had to struggle with my lessons. Then gradually I began to pass her in her best subjects, and she couldn’t hold a candle to me at the piano. She grew to hate me for it — and for other things.”

  “What other things?”

  Minnie moved restlessly. “Do we have to talk about it now?” “No, of course not. You must be tired from the journey and hungry, too.”

  “I’m not hungry. Mr. Fernley and I ate an enormous dinner at a grand place in Seattle before we caught the train.” Minnie’s mood had lifted again to one of exuberance. “If there had been time he would have taken me to one of the theatres. Romeo and Juliet was on at the Lyric, being performed by a touring stock company. Wouldn’t that be marvellous to see? Mr. Fernley has promised that I shall go to live theatre at the first opportunity. In the meanwhile I’m to be his new pianist at his motion-picture shows.” Hastily she made amendment. “That’s on the understanding that my piano-playing proves to be as good in his opinion as it was in Mrs. Jackson’s. He seems to think I’ll learn to cue myself into the screen action in no time at all.”

  Lisa was thoroughly taken aback, seeing her own plans in that direction would be set awry unless she kept a firm hold on the situation. She had taken it for granted that Alan understood that she would wish to become the pianist. Now it appeared that he had not. “You and Alan have tried to arrange a lot between you in a remarkably short time.”

  She hoped she did not sound disgruntled. Apparently she did not, for Minnie’s beaming face had not changed expression. “I suppose we have,” she agreed cheerfully. Having crossed to her tin trunk, she knelt down to unlock it. “To be honest, I dreaded his meeting me in Seattle. I’ve never forgotten how grim he was that night we first arrived at Quadra Island. I always avoided him whenever he came to Granite Bay. Now I’ve discovered he’s nice when one gets to know him.” The raised lid had revealed neatly packed clothes which she proceeded to lift out. “Mrs. Twidle used to say he was one of the best of men and I’m afraid I never believed her.”

  “How is Agnes? She wrote that she was going to miss you.”

  “I’ll miss her as well. I loved going to her house. There was always a warm welcome.” She took out of the trunk a package wrapped in tissue paper and sat back on her heels to hand it up to Lisa. “She sent you this. It’s a belated wedding present, because she didn’t want to risk sending it in the mail.”

  “I’ll take it downstairs to Alan and open it with him.” Lisa paused in the doorway. “Come down as soon as you’ve freshened up. On a warm night like this I’m sure you can do with a cool drink of my home-made lemonade.”

  “Yes, I am thirsty. When am I going to see Harry? He’s asleep, I suppose.”

  “You can take a peep at him before you come down. The nursery is opposite this room.”

  “I promise not to wake him.”

  In the kitchen Alan had poured himself a cold beer from the ice-box. He took a swig from hi
s glass as he followed Lisa through to the parlour. “What have you there?”

  “A wedding gift from the Twidles.” She put it down on the table and read the card that was with it. “Agnes says it’s something she has long treasured, as it is from her childhood home in Toronto. She could think of nothing better to send with her and Henry’s good wishes for our future together.”

  Carefully she unwrapped the tissue paper. Revealed was a Dresden bon-bon dish with lattice-work, the characteristic dark blue and rich ornamentation of the fine porcelain enhanced by exquisitely painted flowers. The sight of it struck such a poignant chord in her that tears sprang into her eyes.

  “What’s the matter?” Alan put down his beer and took hold of her arm anxiously.

  “It’s beautiful.” She made no attempt to wipe away the tears running down her face. “Too beautiful. It reminds me of a plate I longed to possess throughout my orphanage childhood. Before everything began.”

  “Before what began?” He was watching her attentively.

  “Leaving England to come to a new land. The start of a new life. Everything.” She picked up the dish and held it reverently, tears still flowing as if they could not be stemmed.

  “I’m sure it wasn’t Agnes’s intention to make you homesick.”

  “She never knew about the plate. I haven’t even thought about it myself for a long, long time. And I’m not homesick in that sense. I suppose my reaction is due mainly to the surprise that we should suddenly own such a glorious piece of porcelain.”

  That was only part of it. There was another reason that she could not divulge. She had had the sensation of time playing tricks with her. In the past the plate she had coveted had never been hers and the man she had wanted had been similarly denied her. Now she had the porcelain dish, which far surpassed the plate, almost like an omen, and Peter was waiting on a final stretch of patience to make her his own.

  “Where do you intend to display the dish?”

  Alan’s practical query helped to restore her self-control. She took the gift across to a corner cupboard and moved a few ornaments to give it a shelf to itself. Minnie entered the room while she was engaged in this task. Leaving the girl to admire it with Alan, she dried her cheeks as she went to fetch a jug of lemonade, some glasses, and an English plum-cake she had baked upon first hearing that Minnie would be coming, wanting it to mature richly. Returning with the tray, she found they had gone from the parlour out onto the porch.

  Alan, who had been pointing out the direction of the sawmill and other landmarks to Minnie, turned to take the tray from Lisa as she came through the screen door. Minnie settled herself in the rocking-chair, her head against the bright cushions, and was completely relaxed. When refreshments had been passed round, Lisa took the spare wicker chair, while Alan sat on the porch steps. The planes of their faces were highlighted by the soft lamp glow from the doorway. Conversation was mainly between the two friends, Lisa wanting to hear the latest news of the Twidles and Granite Bay. Minnie obliged, steering away from any mention of the Jacksons whenever possible and in her turn wanting to know about the people who lived in the neighbourhood and where, and how often, dances and other social events were held. It was clear that she had come desperately starved for fun and entertainment from the quiet environs in which she had spent the past four adolescent years under the staid supervision of the Jacksons.

  “I had an unexpected visitor today,” Lisa said when an opening presented itself, a little amazed that she could sound quite calm. “Do you remember the Norwegian emigrant, Peter Hagen, whom we met at Liverpool, Minnie? He brought you back to me after you had dashed off in the embarkation shed.”

  “I remember being caught and brought back to you, but I can’t recall what he looked like.”

  Lisa did not expect otherwise, since Minnie had long been gone from Toronto before she and Peter had met again. Moreover, she had never considered making a confidante of the child Minnie on her adult feelings for him. “He’s a horse-dealer these days. Doing well, I think. He heard my name from somebody and came to see if I was one and the same English girl whom he had once helped with a bunch of runaway children.”

  “Who gave the fellow your name?” Alan inquired lazily from where he lounged, a shoulder against the green painted porch pillar by which he sat, his fingers curled about the replenished beer glass resting on the step at his side.

  “Mae Remotti.” Lisa held her breath on the tense expectation of further questioning, but it was not forthcoming.

  “It’s strange how chance meetings can occur,” he commented reflectively. “It’s happened to me a couple of times quite recently.”

  “Who were they?” Minnie’s tone was flirtatiously provocative. “Old flames?”

  He grinned across at her. “No such luck,” he gave back. “One was a fellow engineer I knew in Winnipeg, and the other a fellow passenger from the four-berth cabin I shared on the ship across the Atlantic to New York.”

  “Four-berth!” Minnie gave an exaggerated groan of envy. “What luxury! Lisa and the rest of us were packed like sardines all the way to Halifax. What was New York like when you landed there?”

  Lisa sat back in her chair, feeling completely drained by what she had achieved and relieved as the talk flowed safely past her. She had mentioned Peter. It was the first step and she had taken it. By the time Alan was home again, Minnie would have adjusted to her new surroundings and the situation should be clearer. Then she would face him with what she had to tell and with what she had to ask of him.

  Later, as she prepared for bed, she realised that the existence of Peter was the only secret in her life that she had ever kept from Alan. At the time of their marriage, Peter had been a bitter-sweet and private memory that had no bearing on anyone’s life but her own. Now all that had changed. For the first time ever she lacked the strength and the will to struggle against the course that was sweeping her along. And she knew why. She had surrendered entirely to love.

  Alan left early in the morning. Minnie slept late, which was to be expected. Her first action of the day was to make friends with Harry, who liked her at once and took everything out of his toy-box to pile into her arms and all about her as she knelt on the floor beside him. He followed her around, talking to her after she had put the toys aside and rolled up her sleeves to wash the kitchen floor, take a broom to the porch, and complete a number of other household chores. There was no idleness in her. She was as capable and efficient and as energetic towards work as she had always been. With no man present for distraction, her coquettishness and heightened self-awareness of her own female charm remained below the surface.

  “I won’t get up late tomorrow morning,” she assured Lisa, who had had a busy morning herself at the laundry tub. They had both changed into fresh cotton dresses and were seated on the porch, gently wielding heart-shaped fans of dried palm for the hot weather continued unabated. Harry was having a midday nap upstairs.

  “You deserve a rest after all the travelling.” Lisa had her eyes closed. Her own mental exhaustion had remained with her from yesterday and her sleep had been fitful.

  “At least you know I’m not normally a lie-abed,” Minnie stated. “Unfortunately at Granite Bay Mrs. Jackson was always holding up my punctuality for breakfast, and everything else, as an example to Evangeline, who was never on time for anything. No wonder she grew sick and tired of my name.”

  Lisa’s lids flickered open. “I think I should hear now whatever it was you felt unable to disclose when you arrived.”

  Minnie made a wry grimace. “You’re not going to be pleased with me, I warn you. You’ll think you’ve been landed with a wanton on your hands.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that when I’ve heard you out.”

  Minnie rose abruptly from the rocking-chair and leaned against the pillar by which Alan had sat the evening before. She entwined an arm about it with unconscious grace, but drew away sharply almost at once from its sun-baked surface. “Ouch! That’s hot. Everything is t
oo hot.” She brushed a hand across her brow, her rising state of agitation not inductive to coolness. “Isn’t there a lake for swimming anywhere around here?”

  “There’s a lake shore a few miles away. Alan and I have been to swim there twice when he has been home and we’ve had the lake to ourselves. Nobody goes there on a working day but at weekends it’s a popular place for picnics among those who live around here. Folk who haven’t a horse and buggy of their own go in hired wagons.”

  “How do you and Alan get there?”

  “By automobile. It’s a rough ride and the last half mile through the trees to the lake has to be on foot.”

  “Let’s go there now! Alan told me that you’re a good driver.”

  Lisa glanced at her locket-watch. It was no chore to drive that distance and it would refresh her to do something positive. “We’ll go then. I’ll get Harry ready.”

  “I’ll prepare a picnic. We’ll talk on the way about the Jacksons.”

  Lisa gave an amused shake of the head. “I think we must wait until we get to the lake. You’ll soon find out why.”

  The reason was obvious as soon as Minnie took Harry on to her lap in the automobile. He disliked the boredom of that mode of transportation and promptly became fractious. “I want to walk, Mama,” he protested vehemently.

  “When we get near the lake,” Lisa replied soothingly as she drove away from the house.

  It took all Minnie’s efforts to keep him entertained until they began being tossed about along the rutted forest track once the road had been left behind. This he enjoyed and his good humour was restored. When they left the vehicle he promptly ran ahead of them along the beaten path.

  “When shall you tell him you’re his stepmother?” Minnie asked.

  “I’ll not make an issue of it. He’ll learn gradually that his father was married before and his own mother died.”