Beholden

by Lesley Crewe

  “Yes, Will. He was born a couple of months after his father died.”

  “How does Mitch make his money now?” I asked, pretending not to notice Gran and Nell exchange glances.

  “He farms. They have a nice piece of land. You can’t beat his vegetables. He boards horses. He goes out with his cousin lobster fishing sometimes, and he’s a crackerjack machinist. He can fix anyone’s farming equipment; most guys take their tractors and such to him rather than the dealership. He’s a jack of all trades.”

  “I’m surprised he found time to come and teach me how to ride.”

  “It is a mystery,” Nell said.

  Nell had gorgeous taste in fabrics, but she wanted her walls white.

  “They look fresh that way,” she said.

  Today I was starting her bedroom. “Why don’t you go with something different? Like a pretty robin’s egg blue? It’s only paint. If you don’t like it, I’ll paint over it.”

  She thought about it. “No, white will do. I’ll make a bedspread in robin’s egg blue. And colourful pillows. You can improve anything when the backdrop is white. Not so easy when you start with a difficult colour.”

  “It’s your room.”

  When I was moving furniture about to get things away from the walls, the drawer to her vanity opened. Inside was a pipe. It had to belong to Pops. I lifted it out and sat on her bed, putting my nose up to the bowl and smelling the familiar scent of his favourite tobacco. A deep longing filled me, an ache.

  “I’ve missed you so much,” I whispered. “Why aren’t you here?”

  Nell appeared in the doorway with a drop cloth. She saw me on the bed holding the pipe and put the cloth up to her mouth. We looked at each other for a long moment and then she came and sat beside me.

  “Whenever I need him,” she said, “I take that out and he comes to me.”

  “Do you ever get over a lost love?”

  “No.”

  That hurt.

  “But that doesn’t mean that you can’t find love again, I suppose. The trouble is, you have to want it. And I never did.”

  “Why?”

  “If I were eighteen again, maybe, but I was too set in my ways, and too angry at men in general.”

  “Oh?”

  “I was raped.”

  My stomach turned over. I stared at her. “That’s awful.”

  She nodded.

  “What are the chances of you and my mother sharing the same fate?”

  She looked out the window. “Unfortunately, not unheard of. There are always men who will take advantage of a situation.”

  “I had an…incident once.”

  “Then you know that it’s better to dwell on the men who instill our lives with love. Like your father.”

  “Like my Jack.”

  Her head turned towards me. “There are lots of them out there. You’re young enough to find one.”

  “Oh, I already have.”

  “Who?” she sputtered.

  “Danny Flynn. He’s my best friend. He works at Burke’s store.”

  “The Irishman? He’s quite a character. I can see why you like him.”

  “He saved me the night of…you know. I ran to his door and stayed there all night. He never asked a thing. Just kept me warm and safe.”

  “Then he’s a hero in my eyes.”

  “He thinks you don’t like him.”

  She smiled. “I don’t like the store. It’s got nothing to do with him.”

  “You need to get past that. It’s just a building, for heaven’s sake.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  The day I finished the last of the painting it was the middle of September, my nineteenth birthday, and I celebrated by taking Napoleon for a ride. It was a glorious day, almost hotter than any summer afternoon, and I put my hair up under my cowboy hat, something Gran had surprised me with a few weeks before.

  I trotted through the village and waved to people I knew. They were getting used to seeing me on my horse. When I went by Burke’s, Danny came out with a big carrot for Napoleon and a lollipop for me.

  “You look like Annie Oakley,” he shouted with laughter. “You’re not in Alberta, girlie.”

  “And might I remind you, you’re from Ireland so you don’t belong here either.”

  “Go ’way with ya! There’s more Irish and Scottish in these here parts than anywhere else in the world.”

  A customer stuck their head out the door of the shop. “Are you planning on yakking all day, Danny Flynn?”

  “Must fly!” He blew me a kiss and ran back into the store.

  Did I know where I was going when I turned down Mitch Curry’s laneway? I couldn’t decide, but now that I was here, there was no sense in stopping. Napoleon’s ears perked up. He recognized this place.

  The laneway was lined with trees, the branches reaching out to one another, creating a canopied tunnel. It was a long way in. They’d have to get a plow to get rid of the snow in the winter. But when the trees cleared, there was a vast expanse of fields leading right down to the water. I could see a small but comfortable house, a nicer-looking barn, and a garage with farming equipment strewn by the open doors. There were also a couple of sheds and what looked like a small greenhouse near the kitchen of the main house.

  Mrs. Curry had a line of washing out on her clothesline; it was a perfect day for drying sheets and towels.

  To the left was a fenced-in field where at least six horses were grazing. There were a couple of goats, too, and a slew of chickens hanging around a coop by the barn.

  This belonged in a storybook. My heartrate went down just looking at it.

  Napoleon and I sauntered up near the house, hoping that Mitch would see me and come out to greet us, but he was nowhere to be found. Before I got down to knock at the door, a woman I assumed was Mitch’s mother came out on the deck.

  “Good afternoon,” she said. “You must be Bridie. I recognize Napoleon.”

  “Hello, Mrs. Curry.”

  “Please, call me Maud. I’m assuming you’re looking for Mitch?”

  “Yes. Is he about?”

  “He was, but then he said it was too nice a day to waste and he went fishing.”

  I laughed. “He never struck me as the fishing sort.”

  She grinned. “He rarely relaxes, so I’m always happy when he heads to the brook.” She pointed towards the back of the field. “When you get down near the water, there’s a clearing on the left that leads to a deep brook. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s got a few trout in it. I imagine that’s where he’ll be.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Enjoy your day. Bye, Napoleon.”

  We took our time crossing the field. Every now and then, Napoleon put his head down to graze, and I let him. The day needed savouring.

  Mitch and I saw each other at the same time. He had his back against on a tree, his pole in the water almost an afterthought. He scowled when I got close.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “What a pleasant greeting.”

  “Did my mother tell you where I was?”

  “Yes, after saying a big hello to Napoleon. It was almost as if she’d met him before.”

  “She’s just nice to animals. She’s nice to everyone.”

  I hopped down with minimum fuss, hoping to impress him with my dismount, but he didn’t comment on it. Napoleon walked a few feet away to nibble on some lush-looking grass.

  “Do you mind if I sit down?’

  “No.”

  “You don’t happen to have another pole, do you? I’m an avid fisherman when I get the chance. My father taught me. But it’s been a while since I’ve had the opportunity.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t think I’d have company.”

  “That’s all right. Did you catch anyt
hing yet?”

  “No. That’s not the point of fishing.”

  “What is the point?”

  “To get away from people.”

  That made me laugh. “You sound just like my Pops.”

  “Napoleon looks good. If you rode all this way, you must be getting more comfortable on him. Someone taught you well.”

  “Yes, I had an excellent teacher. A bit grouchy, but I learned to ignore him. Our lessons are over now, so I don’t have any stress in my life.”

  He made a face.

  We sat and stared at the brook. Sitting quietly was coming easier to me, thanks to Nell.

  Mitch eventually spoke. “Have you finished the painting?”

  “Yes. Everything looks marvellous.”

  “I wonder why she’s fixing the joint up? Maybe she’s planning to move.”

  The thought instantly upset me. “What do you mean? Do you know something?”

  “Whoa. It was just a comment. I know nothing about her plans.”

  “What would I do? That’s where Napoleon lives.”

  “You can always board him here. I could use the money.”

  “You’re too far away.”

  “Obviously not. You’re here, aren’t you?”

  I stared into the water, my mind racing. Why was she fixing up the place? She couldn’t leave. There were still a thousand questions I wanted to ask her. I was so busy trying to keep her at bay that I might have lost an opportunity for her to give me information that only she had. She was the only person who remembered Jane. That connection couldn’t be severed.

  “Stop worrying,” Mitch said. “She obviously adores you. She’s not going anywhere.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Look, she’s not a warm and bubbly person like my mom, but when she looks at you, I see it. When she talks about you, I hear it. You would not believe how much she paid me to give you lessons.”

  “I’m assuming as much as I was.”

  “Not by a long shot. I wasn’t pleased when you took over.”

  “So why did you keep coming?”

  “She paid me the difference. But more importantly, I owed it to Napoleon. He needed someone who knew what they were doing.”

  “Have I passed your rigorous standards?”

  “Not bad for a baby.”

  I gave him a death glare.

  “I’m only joking.”

  His pole leapt forward and out of his hand. I grabbed it and held on. “You’ve got something.”

  “Bring it in.”

  It certainly wasn’t the salmon Pops and I had wrestled with, but he’d caught a nice little trout. Big enough for a helping or two. An hour later he caught another one, and then we walked back to the house, Napoleon trailing behind us.

  His mother insisted on cooking them for us for lunch, with some boiled new potatoes and butter. She had a wild blueberry pie just out of the oven, with vanilla ice cream she’d churned herself.

  “Maud, I haven’t had a meal this tasty since my mama died. Thank you.”

  Maud gave me a big grin. “Why thank you, Bridie. I never get compliments like that from my boys.”

  “Hey!” Mitch frowned. “That’s not true.”

  I waved goodbye and took my time going home. I still wasn’t sure why I’d gone, but I was very glad I had. And if I didn’t know better, I’d say Mitch was glad too.

  In November, when the air had the first hint of winter blowing through it, I went up to Nell’s in the car. Since it looked like it was going to rain or hail or snow, I decided to be safe. Napoleon’s stall needed mucking out and so, it turned out, did Lucy’s and Shortbread’s. By this time, I was basically looking after all the critters on the property, and again Nell was paying me.

  “Honest pay for honest work.”

  The way she was so free and easy with her money, I wondered if she had a lot of it. I was still trying to figure out what I was going to do long-term to keep the wolves from the door. Having the nest egg helped lessen my worry, but that wouldn’t last forever if I spent it on my day-to-day life. For the first time, I wondered if I should go away to school—but the thought of leaving Gran and my pets made me sad.

  Nell was finishing up a doll when I arrived. It had a big pink bow on its head and a pretty blue dress and sweater.

  “That’s awfully cute.” By now I was comfortable enough to put on the kettle when I arrived. The tea bags were in a small tin she kept on the counter. “Who’s this one going to?”

  “A woman called and said her neighbour’s child was sick. She wanted something to bring to the hospital when she visited.”

  “Remember when you said you’d made my mother a doll?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you think it’s still around?”

  Nell put the doll on the table and instantly looked anxious. “It is.”

  “May I see it?”

  Nell looked away for a few moments and then sighed. “Of course.” She got up and left the room, coming back a few minutes later. She handed me the old and worn-in little doll. The face had been rubbed off from hugging, and the red velvet coat was patched in a few spots.

  “She loved this doll. I wish she’d taken it with her.”

  I touched the face. “She left it behind for me.”

  “Jane would be happy about that.”

  “Do you mind if I keep it?”

  “It was your mother’s. It belongs to you.”

  “So does the cabin. Do you think we could go see it?”

  She suddenly looked wary. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “No, but I’m curious. And technically, that cabin belongs to me.”

  “I had a handyman board it up years ago when the front door blew in during a storm. No one else was going to do it.”

  “So, there you go. No one cares. There’s nothing to steal, from the way you’ve described it.”

  “All right.”

  We walked down the lane with a crowbar and stood in front of it. Getting closer, I realized that it was bigger than it appeared. And more forlorn.

  Nell took the crowbar and pried the piece of wood nailed to each side of the door frame until it let go. Then she took out a key and opened the door.

  The building was sturdy, from the look of the floor, stairs, and roof. There was precious little furniture in it and only a few pots by the stove. Everything was drab, dirty, and dusty.

  “This is where she lived?” I said. “No colour, no comfort, no happiness? My poor little mother.”

  “It was a disgrace. I shouldn’t have been so afraid of Gervais. I should’ve done more to protect Jane, despite what he threatened.”

  “He obviously didn’t care about anything. If he killed his wife, he could easily have killed you too.”

  “Then I should’ve shot him and claimed it as self-defence and just taken Jane with me.”

  “They would’ve sent her to an orphanage. A spinster isn’t allowed to adopt children.”

  Nell looked around, her face anguished. “Why does the world make things so difficult? You have a child in need and a woman who wants to help, and yet that’s not enough. It’s all about the rules.”

  As hard as I tried not to, my focus became fixated on the stairs. They were narrow and crooked. They looked unforgiving.

  “These are the stairs my grandmother fell down?”

  “Yes.”

  I decided to meet them head on and went up to the two bedrooms and bathroom. They were pokey and colourless. The largest room, I presumed, was the parents’. It was horrifying. The sheets on the bed were black with mold. It was so disturbing that I walked straight out. When I walked into Jane’s room, I almost cried. There was nothing in it to provide any kind of comfort. How was it possible that she lived here without losing her mind? A wave of gratitude
swept over me that at least Nell had been in her life.

  When I went back downstairs, Nell had some documents on the table. “I found these in the wardrobe. It’s the deed to this property, and your parents’ birth certificates. You’ll need this to prove that you are the heir, and this place belongs to you. We’ll go to a lawyer I know and ask what the process is to transfer the deed to your name.”

  “Does it really matter?”

  “It’s property. And property has value. You might want to fix this place up for yourself, despite the sad story of the people who lived here.”

  “They were my family.”

  “Your grandmother was a sweet woman. She would have adored you.”

  Now that I’d been inside the space, my fear had lessened. This was a forgotten part of my past, but it didn’t have to remain that way.

  We went back to Nell’s house and I poured us some tea, while we looked at the doll on the table.

  “When you think about it,” I said, “Bridie is a funny name for a little girl to make up by herself.”

  “Her mother and I were surprised when she blurted it out. But she was very clear.”

  “Did Jane want to leave with my father that day?”

  Nell’s face fell. “When I told her the night before, she cried. She didn’t want to leave me, but I assured her that she could come back to me someday. That George would make everything better. I truly believed he would, Bridie. If I’d known….”

  We sat for a few moments in silence, and then she abruptly got up and left the room. I finished my tea and rinsed out my cup before going outside to the barn. As I brushed Napoleon, I realized that Nell had lost not just the child she loved that day, but also my father, the love of her life. No wonder her grief was still palpable nineteen years later.

  Was I going to be like that? Wandering around like a lost soul, mourning Jack forever? I’d always thought of Nell as a tough old bird, but now she seemed a fragile woman, hiding from the world. Was I setting myself up for the same fate?

  When I took the doll home, Gran held it. “My, my. What a precious thing to have.”

  Christmas rolled around again. Thank the good Lord that we didn’t have to spend it with Uncle Donny and his crowd. Aunt Loretta’s family was descending on them. Patty and Ray told us they’d bought a Hide-A-Bed and we were welcome to bunk with them for the night. Just as Patty had predicted, now that baby number two had arrived, they were going to have Christmas in their own house.