by Linda Abbott
A wedding portrait hung over the mantel fireplace. The bride had blonde hair, pale skin, and a smile that made her blue eyes sparkle. “Ma was pretty,” Marie said.
“You got Ike’s hair colour, but you’re the image of your mother,” Nellie said. She looked at the captain. The smile he exuded from a clean-shaven face matched the glow of the woman’s happiness. Why didn’t you ever talk about your wife? she thought. A child needs to know about her mother.
“I miss Pa so much my heart hurts.” Marie turned to Nellie. “Bessie’s afraid she’ll forget Mr. Myles.”
Nellie’s breath caught in her throat.
“I told her that won’t happen,” Marie said with a certainty that brought Nellie close to tears. “All we have to do is remember how they made us laugh.”
Nellie smiled down at Marie. “What did you come to get?”
“It’s in my bedroom.”
Nellie followed her up the stairs to the second room on the right. Marie opened the door to reveal a space twice the size of the room she shared with Bessie. A large bed with a pink and ivory bedspread stood opposite a huge bay window with ivory lace curtains. One wall held shelves containing books and porcelain dolls. A white bureau and wardrobe occupied the wall next to the bed. Marie made straight for the night table and picked up a sterling silver jewellery box inlaid with speckles of gold. The letters M.J. were engraved on the cover. “Pa had it made for my last birthday.”
“It’s lovely,” Nellie said.
She opened the drawer and took out an exact duplicate. B.M. was engraved on the cover. “This one’s for Bessie.” She put the jewellery box in a white tie string bag. “Only Bessie.”
“Are you sure about this?” Nellie asked.
Marie hugged the box to her. “Yes. It’s our secret.”
Chapter 13
Nellie walked in the back door and saw Bessie poke a fork into a bubbling pot. Marie hid the music box behind her back.
“I boiled the potatoes,” Bessie said.
Marie backed toward the hallway. “Come upstairs, Bessie. I have a surprise for ya,” she said, and raced out of the kitchen.
Nellie donned her apron. “Before you go, Bessie, get me a tin of bully beef from the pantry. We’re having beef patties for supper. Where are Joe and Sam?”
“They’re at the convent helping the Sisters milk the cows.” Bessie started toward the door. “Ma, is that woman really gonna take Marie away?”
“Miss Jones is determined to get her way.”
“Captain Jones would be mad at his sister because he liked Marie staying with us.”
“Indeed he did,” Nellie said. “We’re not giving up on Marie.”
Bessie’s right about Ike, Nellie thought, and mashed the potatoes. She dumped in the beef to form patties, then placed them in the frying pan.
Joe and Sam bustled through the door, each with a rhubarb pie. “Mother Patrick sent these over,” Sam said.
“Sit down,” Nellie said. “Supper’s about ready.”
Marie and Bessie’s footsteps sounded on the stairs. Neither one said a word, nor did their faces betray any excitement. Nellie hoped the music box would improve Bessie’s spirits. Joe and Sam hardly spoke. Nellie wanted to scream, to cry out—anything to strangle the silence that was the new norm at mealtimes since the Marion’s disappearance. The silence cut deeper into Nellie’s heart than the ache of loss.
Marie pushed her plate away after eating only two mouthfuls of food. “I’m not hungry.”
“Me neither,” Bessie said.
Nellie cut one of the rhubarb pies into four large pieces. “Not eating isn’t gonna help anyone.”
“I’m sorry,” Marie muttered.
“School starts soon,” Nellie said, in an effort to spark conversation.
“Right,” Sam said. A hint of the child he once was sneaked into his voice. “I can’t wait.”
Bessie frowned. “I can, if Marie won’t be there.”
“The supply boat won’t be back for another two weeks,” Nellie said. “Make the most of our time together instead of moping around.” She gave each child a slice of pie. “I’ll tell Mother Patrick if you don’t eat that.”
Joe dug into his. “Not that. She’ll preach on and on about the poor, starving youngsters of the world.”
“And keep us at least an hour,” Sam added.
“Go play while it’s still light out,” Nellie said, and filled the dishpan with water from the bucket.
“Nellie.” She turned to find Mother Patrick and Sheila Jones in the doorway. “Are you too busy to take us to Ike’s house now?” the nun said.
“Is Marie in?” Sheila Jones asked.
“She’s in the shed with my youngsters. I’ll get her.”
“Don’t bother her right now. I’d like to see my brother’s house first.”
Nellie felt the key in her pocket. She couldn’t allow Sheila to know she’d been there, so she pretended to reach behind a cup in the cupboard.
Mother Patrick led the way down the path, Sheila by her side. “The French island of St. Pierre is only twelve miles from the tip of the Burin peninsula,” she said. “Sister Thérèse grew up there.”
“How interesting,” Sheila said, her eyes straight ahead. “Is the house much farther?”
“Up there,” Nellie said, and pointed toward a hill. “The garden hasn’t been tended to since June. Ike planted it himself.”
“Didn’t he hire a gardener to maintain the grounds?”
“No need for that,” Mother Patrick said. “The man had quite the green thumb.”
Nellie unlocked the door and Sheila whizzed past her. Her breath quickened. “I never dreamed the house would be this large and luxurious.”
Nellie and Mother Patrick followed her from room to room. She’s like a vulture circling over a load of helpless baby chickens, Nellie thought. She can’t decide what prey to snatch up first.
Sheila glanced at the wedding portrait and concentrated on the brass candle holders on the mantel. In the den, her eyes glowed. “What an exquisite mahogany desk,” she said, running her fingers along the edge. She opened the top drawer, withdrew all the papers, put them in her bag, then checked the bottom two drawers. “I’ll look around upstairs.” A broad smile widened across her face. Sheila inspected every item in every room, including Marie’s night table.
Mother Patrick tapped her right foot, a habit all the children knew was a sign of agitation. “Material goods don’t impress that one,” she growled to Nellie.
“I’ve seen enough,” Sheila said, and bounded down the stairs like a schoolgirl set free from a boring class.
The walk back to Nellie’s house was brief and quiet. “I’ll put the kettle on,” Nellie said once they arrived back home.
“Good idea,” Sheila said. “It’s time I met my niece.”
Nellie called Marie and Bessie in from the shed. Marie’s light hair framed her face.
Sheila smiled at Bessie. “You have your mother’s lovely hair.”
Mother Patrick’s foot tapped. “Actually, she has her father’s lovely hair.”
“This is my daughter, Bessie,” Nellie said.
Sheila turned to Marie, ignoring Bessie. “Come here, child.”
Marie shuffled closer, her hands clasped behind her back, her head low. “I wants to stay in Newfoundland,” she said without looking up.
“You’ll feel at home in Montreal in no time.”
The coastal boat entered Burke’s Cove as Sam walked with his brother toward the Rooms, the Burkes’ warehouse. “Does Ma know you’re doing this now?” he asked. They had just come back from the first day of school. “She wanted to talk to them first.”
“I told her last night I was coming.”
They stopped at a waist-high
boulder not far from the Rooms. “Wait here, Sam,” Joe said.
“Maybe I should go with you for moral support, like Mother Patrick is always talking about.”
“I’ll be all right.” Joe continued on to the Rooms. He looked back at Sam before entering.
The office was to the left at the end of a short hallway. He walked slowly to the office and knocked twice.
“Come in,” Denis Burke called.
Joe opened the door, his head high, his back straight. “I wants a job in the fish plant,” he said.
Denis laid down his pen. “You get straight to the point like your mother.” He folded his hands under his chin. “You even sound like her.”
“Thanks for the compliment, sir.”
Denis indicated the chair by the desk. “You’re welcome, boy.”
Joe remained standing. “I can work every day.”
Denis sat back in his chair. “Where are you going to find time for school, fishing, and the plant?”
“I’m finishing school before heading back to the Banks. That’s why I needs the work in the plant.”
“Your mother made you give up fishing. She’s quite a fearsome woman.”
“Ma had nothing to do with it. Bessie came down with pneumonia worrying about me.” Joe stared down at his hands. “Nothing’s been the same without Pa.”
“Does your mother know you’re here?”
“Yes,” Joe said, his voice strong. “She wished me good luck.”
“Did she indeed,” Denis asked gently.
“Ma wants me home in time for supper. Marie leaves tomorrow morning with her aunt on the coastal boat.”
“I heard,” Denis said. “You can start work at the fish plant tomorrow.”
Denis’s brother Jon came into the office as Joe went out. “What did he want?”
“I gave him a job at the plant.”
“We have all the workers we need.” Jon rummaged through the papers on the desk. “This is a business, not a charity.”
Denis stared out the window. The dying sun threw shadows over his face.
“Well?” Jon said.
Denis glanced over his shoulder at his brother. “Well what?”
“I asked why you took on Joe Myles.”
Denis turned back to the window. “Harry and Tom Myles were good, hard-working men.” He shrugged. “It was the least I could do for them . . . and Nellie.”
Sam jumped down from the boulder when his brother came out of the warehouse. “I starts tomorrow,” Joe said. “Ma will be glad.”
They neared the hill to their house when Sam came to a full stop. He stared toward Burke’s Cove, the colour draining from his face. The coastal supply boat bobbed on the gentle waves. “She’s a day early.”
Joe sprinted up to the house into an empty kitchen. “Ma, where are ya?”
Nellie was sitting in the rocking chair; Marie and Bessie were on the chesterfield holding hands. Marie’s two bags of luggage took up the centre of the room. Sheila Jones lounged against the mantelpiece. “Please have Marie at the boat in one hour,” she said.
Marie sprang to her feet and glared at Sheila. “I’m not going.” Her chin quivered. “You can’t make me.”
“Don’t use that tone of voice with me, young lady.”
“Pa told me the Myleses would be my family if anything happened to him.”
“Enough. We’ve been through this nonsense before. I’ll see you at the boat.” She turned on her heel and walked out of the room.
Marie flew into Nellie’s arms. “I won’t go,” she bawled. “Please, please let me stay.”
Bessie sobbed into one of Harry’s handkerchiefs. “Ma, we have to help Marie.”
Mother Patrick hurried into the room and fell into Harry’s armchair. “My goodness. I’m too old for all this running about,” she said, fanning herself with an envelope. She took a deep breath. “When I saw the coastal boat I literally ran to the post office to see if Ike’s lawyer had written me back.” She held out the envelope. “Here it is, Nellie. Mr. Fleming wants you to go to St. John’s right away. All expenses paid.”
“Why does he want to see me?” Nellie said over Bessie and Marie’s squeals.
Mother Patrick gave the stern look every child recognized. “I’d like to know why he took his sweet time notifying you. Anyways, Ike left a will.”
“I’d better get packed, then,” Nellie said, and took off up the stairs.
“I’ll tell Annie,” Mother Patrick said. “She—
Annie appeared in the doorway. “Tell me what? I already knows the darn boat’s here.”
Nellie hurried back down with a half-closed travel bag. Pieces of clothing stuck out on one side.
“Don’t worry none about the youngsters,” Annie said. “This Mr. Fleming might have a way to keep our Marie with us. You’ll get a chance to see Dottie and the twins, too.”
“Let’s go,” Mother Patrick said. “We don’t want to be late for the boat.”
Nellie wished she felt the certainty etched on Annie’s face that everything would be all right. She caught Mother Patrick’s eye and saw that the nun had her doubts as well.
Nellie began to feel confident about the future on the walk to Burke’s Cove.
“Don’t tell Miss Jones about the letter,” Mother Patrick said. “One can never tell what a desperate woman will do.”
“Here comes the old bat now,” Annie said. “Poor Sister Thérèse is carrying her two suitcases.
Sheila eyed Nellie’s bag. “Mrs. Myles is coming as well, Annie?”
“Of course,” Annie said. “Seeing as how you’re stealing Marie from us.”
The wrinkles around Sheila’s eyes deepened. “My good woman. I am doing what is best for my darling niece.” She took Marie’s arm and walked down to the boat.
“Nellie,” Dr. Fitzgerald sang out, waving as he hurried toward her. “Thank goodness I caught you. Hattie and I had just arrived home when Steve Marsh came to tell me about poor Marie. She must be devastated.”
Annie looked toward the boat. “Sheila Jones has no heart. Money’s her main concern.”
“Nellie,” the doctor continued, “Mother Patrick told Steve that Ike’s lawyer wants to see you.”
“We’re praying that means good news for Marie.”
Dr. Fitzgerald pulled a piece of paper from his coat pocket. “This is Dottie’s address. She’s homesick but really likes St. John’s. Dr. and Mrs. Williams dote on the twins.”
Nellie kissed Bessie’s forehead. “Sweetie, I promise you’ll see Marie again.”
Dr. Fitzgerald bid her farewell and left with Mother Patrick. Bessie clung to Annie like a drowning girl as her mother boarded the boat.
“Time to head home,” Annie said, taking Bessie’s hand. “A good supper is what we needs and deserves.” Bessie waved to her mother and Marie one last time.
Sheila sat on a bench shaded from the sun. “What are your plans for Ike’s house?” Nellie asked when they cleared the harbour.
“I intend to sell it.”
“Me and Pa loved our house,” Marie said. “He said it would be mine forever.”
Sheila’s right eyebrow twitched. Nellie could see she wanted to tell Marie to shut up. “It’s silly to let the house sit vacant when a family could enjoy its splendour.” Sheila produced the smile that never quite brightened her face. “You’ll come to think of Montreal as your home.”
Marie’s eyes welled with tears.
“I’ll send you to the best boarding school, where you’ll become a fine young lady.”
Nellie gently pulled on Marie’s arm. “Let’s go find a nice spot to eat. I packed buttered tea buns and a gingerbread loaf.” She looked at Sheila. “We’ll see you later.” Nellie sneaked a peek at Sheila as t
hey walked away. The scowl on the woman’s face brought a smile to Nellie’s lips.
“Aunt Sheila don’t like me,” Marie said.
Nellie tightened her grip on Marie’s hand. “Some people have an awful hard time letting out their feelings.”
“I don’t care one bit.” Nellie was surprised by Marie’s calmness. “I just have to keep remembering what Pa told me.”
Nellie found a secluded spot far from Sheila’s watchful eye and set out the food on a white napkin. “What did your pa tell you?”
“He’d tell me every time he went fishing that—”
“Nellie.” A young woman’s voice cut Marie off. “I didn’t know you were on board.” The pale, pretty face of Alice Whelan, another Marion widow, looked down at the seated pair.
“Join us for dinner. You look dead on your feet.”
“Mother Patrick’s face is the same colour as yours when she’s seasick,” Marie said.
“The sea never bothers me,” Alice said quietly. “I’m in the family way.”
“No one told me,” Nellie said. “That’s lovely.”
“I didn’t want anyone to know till I was sure.” Alice put a hand to her belly. “A part of Simon will always be with me. Something to live for.”
“I’m some delighted for you.”
Alice accepted a slice of gingerbread. “Ma says this helps when you’re queasy. Simon’s sister wants me to stay with her in St. John’s until I have the baby. I won’t be so lonely with Dottie there.” She sighed. “Poor Mrs. LaCroix’s having some awful time trying to feed her ten youngsters.”
“It’s not easy at the best of times,” Nellie said.
“I’d help if I was allowed,” Marie said.
Alice gently pinched Marie’s cheek. “I knows that, maid.” She tore off a small portion of gingerbread loaf. “Mrs. LaCroix was delivered a surprise load of food from the general store.”