The Loss of the Marion

by Linda Abbott

  “I’m sorry about your friend’s baby,” the lawyer said.

  Nellie grimaced. “Another Marion casualty.”

  When they reached the harbourfront, Mr. Fleming turned to Marie. “Take good care of your new family.”

  “I promise,” Marie said.

  “I’ll keep in touch, Mrs. Myles. Goodbye and safe journey.” He waited for them to board, and with a final wave returned to his office.

  Marie stared at the city while the boat sailed through the Narrows. “Will Alice’s parents be mad she’s not coming home?” she asked.

  “They’ll be sad and lonely for a while,” Nellie said.

  The sun’s rays played with Marie’s eyelashes and cast them in elongated, shadowy thin lines across the top of her cheeks. “Bessie and everyone else are gonna be some surprised to see me,” she said.

  They ate dinner, explored the boat, and read to pass away the hours. “We’re here! We’re here!” Marie finally said when the entrance to Burke’s Cove appeared like a beacon on the horizon. She bounced on her feet and clapped her hands. As the boat manoeuvred into the Cove, Marie ducked below the rail.

  “What’s that for?” Nellie said.

  “I wants to really surprise everyone.”

  While the boat laid anchor, Nellie searched the crowd. She spotted Annie and Mother Patrick. The mother superior stood tall, yet her face appeared veiled in mourning. Annie leaned into the nun. Her eyes lacked the gleam that had always bestowed a youthful look to her wrinkled face.

  “Marie,” Nellie said when people began to disembark. “They’ve suffered enough. Show yourself.”

  She popped up.

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” Nellie heard Mother Patrick gasp.

  Annie held her hands up to the sky. “Please, Sweet Jesus, don’t let me be dreaming.”

  Marie barrelled down the plank into Annie’s open arms. In one long breath she told them about the contents of her father’s will. “Aunt Sheila was some mad,” she concluded.

  “She’s on the way to Montreal,” Nellie said. “We’ve seen the back of her for good. Mr. Fleming’s a lovely man. He didn’t like Sheila any more than we did.”

  While they walked, Nellie talked about Dottie, the twins, and how Dr. and Mrs. Williams treated them like their own.

  “That’s some weight off my shoulders,” Annie said. “It’s not that I didn’t believe what Dr. Fitzgerald said, but it’s good to be sure.”

  “How’s Joe doing at the plant?” Nellie said.

  “Grand. He’s taken to the work like a baby pigeon to the sky.”

  Mother Patrick stopped at the convent. “I’ll see you all later. Joe wouldn’t be cross with me if I missed history class,” she said with a straight face.

  Marie ran on ahead and disappeared from sight. Nellie and Annie neared Young’s General Store. The door opened, and Nellie came face to face with Denis Burke. “Good day,” she said. “I didn’t get a chance to thank you for taking on Joe.”

  “It was nothing,” Denis said, and hurried away.

  Annie stared after him. “I thinks he was half-scared you were gonna smack him.” She cocked an eye at Nellie. “Why would that be?”

  Nellie shrugged. “Who knows why the Burkes act the way they do?”

  “I don’t think that was your first fib.”

  Marie had the dishes set out for supper when Annie and Nellie came through the door. She hugged herself and danced around the table. “I’m some happy to be home.” She whirled around and stumbled into Nellie. “Mrs. Myles, can I give Annie her present now?”

  “You’re as good as my daughter,” Nellie said. “Call me Nellie.”

  Marie screwed up her eyes, a sure sign that she was giving serious consideration to the suggestion. “No,” she finally said. “I’ll call you Ma Nellie.”

  Chapter 16

  Nellie placed a pan of hot, soapy water on the floor and dropped into the rocking chair. Her feet still hadn’t quite recovered from traipsing around St. John’s. She looked out the window. The setting sun painted the cottony white clouds with a crimson hue, which darkened to blood red as the sun descended lower and lower behind the hills. Her gaze strayed from the colour display to the kitchen, where all four children sat around the table absorbed in homework. Joe had been reluctant to leave the fish plant until Mother Patrick ordered him to her office for a private chat. She suspected the good sister had lectured her son about the best way to “honour thy mother.”

  Nellie’s eyes wandered to her wedding portrait. I don’t know what to do, Harry, she thought. Annie and Mother Patrick says I should move into Ike’s house. She didn’t think Marie cared one way or the other.

  “Josh Cabot did not discover Newfoundland,” Sam said. Nellie thought he sounded frustrated. She heard Bessie and Marie giggle.

  “What’s so funny?” Joe said.

  “Go on, b’y,” Bessie said. “I knows you’re joshing.”

  “No he ain’t,” Sam said.

  “Then who did?” Joe said.

  Marie shoved her history book in front of him. “John Cabot,” she said, her finger next to the name.

  Joe chewed his bottom lip. “Was Josh his brother?”

  Even Sam laughed this time.

  Nellie turned back to the portrait. “The youngsters are getting back to normal,” she murmured. “They’re becoming used to you being gone, Harry.” She rested her head against the back of the rocker. I never will.

  As if he was seated in his armchair, she could hear Harry’s deep, gentle voice. Love, what’s holding you back from moving into Ike’s house?

  “It’s because of you, Harry,” she whispered, her eyes closed. “This house breathes your presence. There’s nothing of you at Ike’s.”

  Don’t fret none about me, Nellie, love. I knows you always do right by our youngsters.

  “Ma,” Joe called from the table. “I’m on my way to get water from the well.”

  Nellie heard the door open and close. Ike’s house had a sink connected to a well in the fancy kitchen, the feature that appealed most to Annie, along with the latest equipment. No more lugging heavy buckets several times a day in all sorts of weather. Six bedrooms would make it possible for the children to each have one of their own. Even so, she hated to desert the home Harry and Uncle Joe had built. The children had been born here, laughed here, cried here.

  Moving don’t destroy special memories, love. You carry them with ya.

  Nellie hauled her feet out of the pan, slipped on her shoes, and went to the kitchen. “Homework almost done?” she asked. Sam was helping Marie with arithmetic. Bessie was writing a story.

  Marie finished the last division problem and closed her scribbler. “I am,” she said.

  “I’m taking a walk to your house. Come along with me.”

  The clouds had darkened to resemble stacks of coal. Nellie took her shawl from the door hook and reached for Marie’s raincoat.

  “It’s not raining,” Marie said, and skipped out of the house.

  “It will, be” Nellie called out.

  They’d reached the bottom of the path before Marie spoke again. “Can I bring my porcelain doll display back to your house?”

  “You haven’t spoken about those in a while.”

  “I ain’t so sad anymore.”

  The wind stirred and Nellie breathed in the salty air. She’d missed the tangy smell while wandering through the many streets of St. John’s. The one thing that had caught her off guard was the brick buildings that had been built after the big fires that ravaged the city. They appeared desolate, stretching out of the ground like charred fingers. Their images flooded Nellie’s head and she shivered despite the warm breeze.

  They passed the Rooms. A light glowed in the Burkes’ office. Jon Burke sat at his desk, his h
ead bent over paperwork. He’d been annoyed when informed that Ike’s house couldn’t be sold until Marie was eighteen. Nellie smiled. That’s one thing the grab-all merchants won’t get their hands on. A twinge of guilt pricked at her conscience. At least Denis had shown an inkling of kindness. Carried out in secret, to boot. Harry had once told her there was some good in the youngest Burke brother. Nellie had laughed and said, “Sure, b’y.”

  Thunder drummed in the distance. Nellie increased her pace after feeling a raindrop fall on her nose. Another struck the ground, followed by another and another, giving rise to puffs of dry, thirsty earth. Rain bit into the ground until the road transformed into a mud pie.

  Marie looked up to the sky. “I likes how the rain tickles me skin.”

  Nellie tucked her shawl around Marie’s shoulders. “Let’s hurry before we drown.”

  They scooted up the hill toward Ike’s house. The garden had ceased to beg for attention. The months of neglect and the early onset of frost at night had reduced the thriving plant life to decrepit, decaying mush. The only saving grace was the trees that dotted the lawn like pieces on a chessboard. The autumn leaves displayed a cavalcade of splendour befitting a royal palace. They reached the path, which curved in an S shape to the front door. Dead leaves floated in small puddles. Halfway up the path something in the soaked ground caught Nellie’s eye.

  Boot prints. The shape and size of a man’s. Nellie looked toward the house; there wasn’t any light visible inside. The windows and front door were closed. A thought jumped into her head. “If Jon Burke’s been poking his nose around, I’ll put my boots to him,” she muttered, marching up to the house. Marie ran to keep up with her. Nellie stopped suddenly, remembering that Jon was in his office. He could not have gotten here before her.

  Wet leaves squished under their shoes. “The prints go right up to the door,” Marie said. “I bet they belongs to one of Joe’s friends.”

  “Stay close to me,” Nellie said, and unlocked the front door. Clouds whisked across the sky, releasing a captive moon. Enough light seeped in to illuminate the pale-blue tiled floor.

  “Look,” Marie said. She pointed to the base of a window. Broken pieces of glass were strewn across the floor. Muddied boot prints, encrusted with crushed glass, tracked through the living room and down the hall toward the den and kitchen area. Nellie couldn’t think who would break into the house. No one in St. Jacques would dare stoop so low. To her knowledge there weren’t any visitors in the community. If it turned out to be a youngster, he’d get an earful from her. She checked the living room, then proceeded to the den. The drawers in the desk were half open. Nothing else looked out of place.

  “We’re gonna leave,” Nellie said, turning away from the desk. Marie was gone. Nellie ran to the living room. Still no Marie. She climbed the stairs and squinted down the long, obscure hallway. Several seconds passed before her eyes adjusted to the dark. “Marie, are you up here?”

  A thump came out of the darkness.

  Nellie froze. “Marie,” she whispered. “Is that you?” She crept forward.

  Another thump.

  Nellie’s skin tingled. Her heart thudded so hard her ribs hurt. She reached Ike’s room. The door stood ajar and she spied a figure clad in a black cape and hood rummaging through the bureau. Sweat broke out on Nellie’s forehead. “Who are you?” she asked before her brain had time to assess the danger.

  The hooded figure’s head snapped toward her. Nellie’s legs felt too heavy to move. The shadow grunted and bolted past her down the stairs. She couldn’t tell if the fleeing form was male or female. “Marie!” she shouted. Her voice shook. “Marie.”

  Her own shallow breaths splintered the silence. A low, muffled groan penetrated her senses. She listened. A sob. Nellie gathered her strength and raced to Marie’s room. The child was crouched in the corner, her face buried in her hands.

  “Marie, are you all right?”

  She dived into Nellie’s arms. “I saw the hooded man go into Pa’s room. Bessie said he wants to take me away.”

  “No one is going to take you away. The hooded man was a dream and can’t hurt you.”

  Marie’s body trembled. “Who was he, then?”

  “I don’t know. But I’ll find out. Mark my words.”

  Marie gripped Nellie’s hand. They hurried to the stairs and noticed the front door swung wide open. The rain drilled against the floor like shards of stone.

  “He’s gone,” Nellie said, her heartbeat slowing. They rushed down the stairs and Nellie slammed the door shut behind them. The rain had stopped again by the time they reached home.

  Joe, Sam, and Bessie were playing cards at the kitchen table.

  “None of you take one step out of this house until I get back,” Nellie ordered, and took off again. She panted and held a hand to the stitch in her side when she reached the convent.

  “What in heaven’s name?” the nun said and handed her a towel. “Did ye swim here?”

  “Mother Patrick, you have to promise me to keep quiet about what I’m going to tell you. Annie will be frantic with worry if she finds out.”

  “Out with it, then. I can’t promise if I don’t know what you’re on about.”

  Nellie described the broken window, the tracks, and the intruder in Marie’s house.

  “You went inside!” Mother Patrick said. “Have you lost your mind, maid? The fiend could’ve hurt the two of you.”

  “I thought nothing of it at first. People don’t break into houses hereabouts.”

  Mother Patrick blessed herself. “What possessed you to go after dark?”

  Nellie was all set to defend her action when she sneezed. A series of sneezes she couldn’t control followed.

  “Pneumonia is all you need,” Mother Patrick said. “Go home and get into bed with a hot toddy. And don’t take any more foolish chances.” She called for Sister Thérèse. “We’ll accompany you, to be on the safe side.”

  Safely confined to bed by the mother superior, Nellie mulled over the incident at Ike’s house. She couldn’t come up with a probable suspect and tried her best to put it aside. The next morning she went to Young’s General Store to order glass to repair the broken window.

  “We have the measurements from when Ike built the house,” Mr. Hodder said, and filled out the paperwork. “That was some sturdy glass. How did it break?” he asked.

  “Someone broke in.”

  Mr. Hodder looked at Nellie over the top of his glasses. “That’s awful. That’s a first for something like that in these parts.” He took off his glasses and poked them on top of his head. “Did you know there’s been a stranger hanging about?”

  “What stranger?”

  “A Frenchman’s been asking about Ike’s place. I found him a mite on the crooked side.”

  “What does he look like?” Nellie asked, hoping she sounded casual.

  “Small man. About sixty, I’d reckon.” Mr. Hodder signed his name on the form. “It’s gonna be a while before the glass comes. Be sure to board up the window until then.”

  “I will,” Nellie said. She swung around and bumped into Jon Burke.

  “Mrs. Myles.” His voice was colder than the ocean in winter. “I don’t appreciate being lied to. You should’ve said you don’t want me to have Ike’s house.”

  Nellie put aside her initial burst of anger and spoke in a civil tone. “What makes you think I lied?”

  “An old Frenchman’s been looking for the house. He said it was up for sale.”

  “When was this? Did he give his name?”

  Jon looked down his nose. “Come now, Mrs. Myles. Don’t act surprised.” He scoffed. “You’re selling Ike’s house to the very man you claim is responsible for the Marion’s disappearance.”

  Nellie’s mouth went dry. “Is he still here?” Her lips stuck to her tee
th.

  “His trawler is anchored in Burke’s Cove.” Jon gave her an indignant look. “I’m sure he’s waiting for you.”

  Nellie yanked open the store’s door and sped up the hill to the convent. Her shawl slid down her back to the dirt road. She was out of breath before long but kept going. She reached the convent gate and whipped it open, her eyes pinned on the small group of people flocked in front of the convent door.

  “You’re the hooded man!” she heard Bessie screech. “You can’t take Marie.”

  “Hooded man?” Captain Maurice said. “What is this hysterical child talking about?”

  Annie’s big hands flanked her large hips. She glared at the small man. “Get back to where you came from and leave decent folk be.”

  “I want to talk with Marie.”

  “Ma!” Bessie ran to Nellie. “Make the hooded man go away.”

  Marie hovered so close to Mother Patrick she was almost hidden by the nun’s abundant robes.

  “I suggest we go inside,” Mother Patrick said. “Before every soul on the Burin peninsula hears this ruckus and decides to join in.”

  Captain Maurice bowed, the gesture stiff. “As you wish, ma bonne soeur.”

  Annie snarled. “Don’t put on false airs for Mother Patrick. She’s onto ya.”

  Sister Thérèse offered to take Bessie and Marie to the kitchen for milk and cookies.

  “Ma,” Bessie said when Sister Thérèse tried to lead her away, “don’t let the hooded man take Marie.”

  “Marie’s staying put, sweetie. Go along to the kitchen.”

  The others went with Mother Patrick to her office. “Everyone sit down and act like grown-ups,” she said. “As for you, monsieur,” she looked Maurice squarely in the eyes, “you don’t walk up behind a child and scare the wits out of her like you just did with Bessie.”

  “I did not mean to frighten her.”

  Annie’s chin quivered. Nellie could see she was about to jump Maurice. “Captain,” she said quickly, “you know well enough we blame you for sinking the Marion.”