Bitter, Sweet

by Laura Best

  But before I had time to explain anything Davey and Flora came through the doorway. The moment they saw Daddy they rushed to him in a wild flurry, both vying for the same place in Daddy’s open arms. Daddy cradled them both at once, smothering them in a barrage of kisses.

  Jesse did not look so happy. He kept a safe distance, as if he had something to fear, or else was bitten with resentment, as he watched Flora and Davey clamour for Daddy’s affection. I could tell by the look on Jesse’s face that it angered him to see the way they cooed and went on about Daddy’s being there.

  Later, as we stood beside the spot where Mama was buried, our heads bowed, all holding hands because Daddy said it seemed only decent to do so, a soft wind whistled through the treetops and I knew it was Mama looking down at us from above. Daddy picked a bouquet of buttercups and daisies to place at the top of Mama’s grave and told us we should always remember to pick Mama fresh flowers.

  “You know how much Issy loved flowers,” he said.

  But Flora protested, explaining that Mama had told us not to put any flowers on her grave because people might see them and wonder.

  “It won’t matter now what people see,” said Daddy.

  Finally Daddy asked me to tell him about the sickness that took Mama away. As hard as it was, I told him all that I could remember—all but the very last part, as it was too upsetting. Only it had been bothering me, you see: the tea that Mama drank that night, the tea I had prepared for Mama, and then Mama dying like that through the night. Some days it troubled me more than others. But I could not voice my fears to anyone. What if I was wrong? What if there was nothing sinister about the tea Mama drank right before she died?

  When I was finished the story, I wondered if maybe Daddy could tell there were missing parts, but if he did he didn’t mention it. He listened quietly to what I had to say, giving me his full attention. I spoke slowly and steadily, aware of a gentle rhythm to my voice, as I named out all the things we had celebrated over the course of Mama’s illness. “Mama said we’d remember things better that way,” I told him.

  I told Daddy what a good friend Reese Buchanan had been to us, and how Mama had said Reese would help with the burying only Jesse said it was something we needed to do all on our own.

  “You’ve become quite independent,” said Daddy, smiling tenderly at Jesse. “Issy taught you well.”

  “It’s too late now, with Mama dead and buried,” Jesse said fiercely. “Where were you when she was sick and we needed your help?” Jumping up from the table, he pushed his chair aside. It fell to the floor as he hurried out the front door.

  I looked at Daddy, sorry that he had to see this, and followed Jesse outside.

  “I can’t pretend everything’s fine,” Jesse said, looking out toward the Dalhousie Road. “Daddy brought us out here to the middle of nowhere and took off. He didn’t care what happened. For a long time I thought he’d come back, but I was a stupid kid who didn’t know any better.” “Things aren’t always the way they seem to be on the outside,” I said to Jesse, sharing in his disappointment at Daddy’s behaviour. I knew Jesse was right—Daddy owed us some sort of explanation. But a part of me couldn’t help but wish these past two years away, pretend like they had never happened. How much easier it would be.

  I tried to use words that I thought Mama might say. Mama, who was forgiving and generous by nature, who never once badmouthed Daddy to any of us after he left. Even if Jesse thought it was too late, I knew otherwise.

  “It’s still Daddy, Jesse. Right or wrong, that part hasn’t changed. We should hear what he has to say, at least for Flora and Davey’s sake. All they know is that Daddy’s back. Don’t you remember all those nights Flora cried?”

  Jesse spun around to face me. “Who took Daddy’s place these past two years? Who chopped wood and snared rab–bits and kept Davey and Flora safe? Who made sure we had food on the table and kept fires going in the winter when it was so cold the windows froze up during the night? Who went to school all at the same time so that the government money would keep coming?”

  “And you did everything the way Mama asked, Jesse, things we couldn’t have done without you,” I replied. “But you don’t have to do it all now. You can just be yourself like everyone else. Go swimming in the brook or sit out under a tree just like before. You don’t have to take Daddy’s place anymore.”

  “But what if he takes off again, Pru? What will we do then? He did it once; what makes you so sure he won’t do it again?” The intensity had disappeared from his voice. I could tell that my words were beginning to break him down.

  “Because Mama’s gone now, Jesse. Everything’s changed.”

  His eyes softened at the mention of Mama’s name. He did not say anything for a long while.

  “Okay, I’ll come back inside,” he finally said. “But I’ll do it for you and Mama, Pru. Not for him.”

  I sliced bread for our supper and opened two of the jars of applesauce that I’d canned last fall from the wild apples Davey and Jesse had found one day in September. I steeped tea and poured a cup for Daddy and hoped he would be pleased that I’d learned to make bread and put down food while he’d been gone. But most of all I hoped he’d be pleased with the wood Jesse had chopped and stacked up so nice and high.

  Later in the evening, Daddy told us about Ontario and the big tobacco field where he’d worked and how it was back-breaking work but still better than chopping wood. He told us that it was so hot there that the sun could dry up a raindrop the second it touched the ground. He spoke about the huge rain barrel heated by the sun that the tobacco pickers showered beneath every evening before supper. He talked long into the evening.

  “But now it’s time for you two to go to bed,” he said, smiling at Flora and Davey.

  “Not yet! Not yet!” they cried as Jesse and I took them off to their beds.

  As the evening wore on, the sky darkened and the rain started. Daddy said the rain would be good for the beans we had planted and he asked if we had planted last spring too. Jesse spoke up and said that Mama had planted everything by herself, even though the blackflies had her chewed to pieces, and that she hadn’t stopped, not even after she got a nosebleed.

  “We’ll pickle down some beans this year, and some cucumbers,” said Daddy, ignoring Jesse’s outburst.

  “We did that last fall, even though Mama was too sick and weak to help,” put in Jesse.

  There was a long silence before Daddy said anything. “I know you’re angry, Jesse, and I don’t much blame you. All I can say is that I’m here now.”

  “A few words can’t fix this for you. You had no business going in the first place,” said Jesse defiantly, folding his arms in front of him.

  “I went for the work. It was to be a few months while the harvest was on. I sent money home. But then things went wrong.” There was regret in Daddy’s voice. I could hear it. And I wished Jesse would stop picking apart everything Daddy had to say and just listen for a moment.

  “Everyone from here was going, Jesse. Pete Norwood, Martin Hirtle, Jake Adams.”

  “And don’t forget Nate Burbidge,” added Jesse spitefully. “Only you know what? He’s the only one who never came back. The rest of them did. They looked after their families. Who did you look after, Daddy? Yourself, that’s who.”

  I thought about the day Jake Adams had come to the house with the money that was owed to Daddy, money he said that Daddy had never bothered to come back to collect.

  “I figured you could use it,” said Jake. Mama thanked him, but I knew she was embarrassed when she took the envelope of money from Jake. Jake said no one was sure what had happened to Daddy. “One day he just didn’t show up for work.”

  Daddy sat at the table with his head down. I wanted to tell Jesse that he should be ashamed of himself, but I couldn’t bring myself to utter the words. A part of me understood his disappointment and anger because I had felt those same things too. I wanted to trust Daddy and yet something niggled at me, a faint whisper
off in the background warning me to be cautious, not to trust too quickly.

  “I ran into a little trouble in Ontario,” Daddy finally admitted.

  “What kind of trouble?” I asked, instantly fearing the answer.

  “You don’t need to hear the details. Let’s just say I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. When you’re a nobody no one will give you a listen. Didn’t even get to tell my side of things,” said Daddy with slight indignation.

  “You were in jail?” I wasn’t prepared for the surprised tone in Jesse’s voice when he asked the question. I could tell he was as shocked as I was. Daddy didn’t say much after that. He just sat by the window and looked out at the rain.

  The very next day Daddy mentioned that the food situation was a bit poor, not to mention the fact that we hadn’t planned on an extra mouth to feed. I brought ten dollars out from the tin box in Mama’s dresser drawer and asked him to pick up some groceries at Hurley’s.

  Later, Jesse told me he couldn’t believe what I’d done.

  “You just watch. He’ll take that money and go off on a drunk.”

  “Then that’s something we need to know,” I said. “It should be worth ten dollars to know that much. Shouldn’t it?”

  Jesse waited out on the doorstep for Daddy to come home. Twice he came inside, impatient over the fact that Daddy hadn’t yet returned.

  “Hurley’s isn’t that far away,” he said. I knew he was wondering if Daddy was drinking up the money and if he would come crawling back a few days later asking for forgiveness the way he used to with Mama.

  When Reese’s car pulled up with Daddy sitting in the front seat, we ran out to see what he had brought.

  “Reese was on his way to New Germany this morning, so I figured who needs Hurley’s?” said Daddy, smiling as he climbed out of Reese’s car. He reached into the grocery box and pulled out some licorice candy for Flora and Davey. Jesse took the box from Daddy and examined its contents as he headed toward the house.

  Toward nightfall, as I was walking past the kitchen window, I noticed Daddy sitting on one of the swings Reese made for us when we first arrived in Dalhousie. He looked so forlorn sitting out there by himself, looking in the direction of Mama’s grave. I quietly slipped out the back door, resisting the urge to call out his name. He appeared to be deep in thought. He didn’t hear me approach, and didn’t look up until I took my place on the swing beside him.

  “You should come in, Daddy,” I said. “It’s getting dark. Flora and Davy will want you to tuck them in.” For a time the only sounds to be heard were the chorus of frogs and Jesse’s muffled voice from inside the house ushering the younger ones off to bed.

  “You and Jesse are doing a great job here. You don’t need me at all, do you?” he asked. There was a melancholy tone in his voice that blended with the soft night sounds around us.

  “Of course we need you! We’ll always need you,” I said. “You don’t need your mother. People die and life goes on and if I died tomorrow you’d still be fine. You and Jesse are just about grown. Jesse’ll soon be holding down a job. Do you know how old I was when I started working?”

  I nodded. I knew the story well, how Daddy went off to work when he was thirteen because there wasn’t anyone left to look after him.

  Daddy held a small bottle to his lips. There was no mistaking the smell of vanilla extract. I knew I wouldn’t dare tell Jesse that Daddy was drinking, that he’d bought vanilla extract with some of the money I had given him.

  “I’m a poor excuse for a man, Pru. I’ve made my share of mistakes,” he said, screwing the top back on the bottle. “And I’ll make more before all is said and done.”

  “Mama used to say that there are no mistakes, just hurdles we need to get over,” I said, hoping that Mama’s words would strike a note in him.

  “Issy.” There was a smile in his voice when he mentioned Mama’s name.

  I placed my hand on his elbow as we got up off the swings and headed toward the house.

  Two days later Daddy was gone, along with his bag and shoes and coat. Gone without a trace. All day long we waited for his return. When twilight settled among the trees and the birds fell silent for the night I went to Mama’s dresser drawer and took out the tin box. The money was gone. I didn’t need to wonder where it went.

  Chapter Eleven

  The first to come was Mr. Dixon.

  Pru was in the garden, kneeling and pulling out the weeds around the cucumber plants. Jesse was busy hoeing the beans. Davey was pushing Flora on the swing, laughing as Flora kicked her legs each time she went up in the air.

  Mr. Dixon parked his car beside the road and slammed the door shut. He marched toward the house like a man on a mission, his arms swinging at his side. Jesse put down his hoe and went to head Mr. Dixon off, but instead Mr. Dixon walked right past Jesse and into the house, calling out Mama’s name as he went from one room to another. Pru, Davey, and Flora all ran for the house.

  “What are you doing?” Jesse cried, but Mr. Dixon didn’t stop.

  “Leave us alone,” Pru called out as she hurried to keep up to Mr. Dixon, who by this time was opening doors and closets like the place belonged to him. He climbed the stairs and searched in each of the bedrooms.

  “I’ll leave you alone as soon as I talk to Isadora. Now where is she?” he asked, turning to go back down the stairs.

  “She’s not here,” said Jesse.

  Pru’s heart pummelled like the wings of a humming bird. Had her deepest fears come to pass? Would they be found out and sent to live in foster homes, the family torn apart the way Mama had feared? This just couldn’t be happening.

  “Where is she? I’ve been told that she’s not alive, that she passed on some time ago. Is that the truth, son? I hope for all your sakes that it isn’t.”

  “No sir, it’s not. It’s not the least bit true,” said Jesse, looking Mr. Dixon straight in the eye.

  “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you? How old are you?”

  “Fourteen,” answered Jesse. Pru thought she could detect a trace of fear in her brother’s voice.

  “Fourteen? The law might go easy on you,” said Mr. Dixon, looking at Jesse with stern determination, as if he was set on getting to the bottom of this.

  Thumping down the steps, Mr. Dixon headed for the back door. All four Burbidges trailed behind. They looked at one another, juggling a ball of fear back and forth like a hot potato. Was everything they had struggled for about to tumble to the ground?

  “I was told there’s a grave out here somewhere,” said Mr. Dixon, shaking his head.

  Pru’s eyes rested on the wildflowers they had placed on Mama’s grave two days earlier when Daddy was home. Luckily the flowers had wilted into the grass, decomposed past the point of recognition.

  “It had better not be true, or you’ll have a lot to answer for.” Before Mr. Dixon could take another step, Jesse ran to face him. Jesse grabbed Mr. Dixon by the shoulder and pushed him backwards.

  “This is our home, Mr. Dixon, and Mama’s not going to be very pleased when she comes back. Then we’ll see who’s in trouble with the law,” he said.

  Mr. Dixon relaxed his shoulders, let out a sigh, and pulled his hands through his hair. “I might have jumped the gun,” he said. “But I got a call. And Isadora hasn’t been seen in months…. People are talking…” His voice trailed away to empty air.

  “Leave or it may be your last time to leave,” Jesse said, seeing that he now had the upper hand. Davey and Flora gave Pru a bewildered look. Had Jesse just threatened to harm Mr. Dixon? It sounded that way to Pru. This was not good. Not good at all.

  The moment Mr. Dixon left, Pru sunk slowly to the floor and buried her hands in her face. This was all going terribly wrong. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. Not this way at all. “How did he know?” Jesse demanded as he watched out the window to make sure Mr. Dixon was indeed leaving.

  “No one knows except Reese, but he wouldn’t tell,” said Pru.

  “Dad
dy,” Flora whispered. They all looked from one to another. No one said a word, not even Jesse. It was true that Daddy had run off again without a word of goodbye, but would he really report them to Mr. Dixon and have them put in foster homes?

  Jesse paced back and forth from the kitchen to the front door. “We have to get out of here,” he said to Pru. “We’ll take the money Mama left us and go away. Reese will help.”

  “We can’t!” cried Pru as a cold round stone of dread formed in her chest.

  “Of course we can,” said Jesse. “We have to pack our things. Come on! ” Jesse began to hurry up the stairs, with Davey and Flora following at his heels.

  “No!” shouted Pru. “We can’t! The money’s gone! All of it! Every last penny.”

  “What do you mean the money’s gone?” Jesse stopped dead in his tracks.

  Pru had hoped she wouldn’t have to tell Jesse, that she could put the money back bit by bit, save it up the same way Mama had.

  “After Daddy left,” said Pru, her heart feeling as though it had dropped off the ends of the earth. She really didn’t want to tell Jesse this part. She swallowed. “I looked and the money was gone.”

  Chapter Twelve

  The next to come was the law. They came before the dusk, before the final shades of twilight floundered, before the Burbidges had time to devise a plan.