Amazing Grace

by Lesley Crewe

  All this is bouncing around in my head. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I grab his hand from across the table. “Aaron! You have every opportunity to fall in love with another woman and have your own child. Why would I take that away from you? You’re not thinking clearly.”

  His head drops and he’s still for a long time. Then he looks at me. “So you don’t think you love me at all?”

  “I don’t trust men, Aaron. And you’re a man.”

  “I’m a good man, in case you hadn’t noticed.”

  “I—”

  “Don’t say anything. Just think about it. It’s a happy ending for both of us. I do love you very much. I wish I was like you. You’re brave and smart. You’re a survivor. Quite frankly, I could use your strength around me.”

  “What are all these papers?”

  “A marriage license. A passport application for you. If we marry in New York and the baby is born there, it will be an American citizen.”

  “I want my baby to be Canadian.”

  “It will have dual citizenship, which is always a bonus.”

  “I have a headache.”

  He gets up from the table. “We need more juice. I’ll go get some.”

  I stand by the living-room window and watch him exit the building and walk down the street. He’s such a funny character. A bit odd, yet sweet. Trying so hard to please his father. Thinking of me and the baby. I’d be set for life. I wouldn’t have to worry about having a home, or bringing the baby up alone. I’d be able to keep the car and the farmhouse. We could go to Marble Mountain in the summer and I could teach the baby how to swim in the lake. I’d be a respectable married woman, not someone whispered about. There is really no reason I shouldn’t do this.

  Except it’s wrong to marry someone when you don’t want to be married.

  I say yes anyway.

  The next few weeks fly by. Aaron insists on taking me shopping for new clothes. Anything I want I can have. He pays for everything. He sends me to an expensive hair salon, and I’m sitting under the dryer when it hits me. He’s trying to make me look good for his father. Like I’m not good enough already.

  He’s in the shower when I arrive home. I walk into the bathroom and flush the toilet.

  “Aaah! That’s cold water! What did you do that for?”

  “You’re a jerk.”

  He peeks out from behind the curtain with soap bubbles in his eyes. “What did I do?”

  “All this makeover stuff. You’re trying to butter up your old man by making me look like a Barbie doll. That’s revolting.”

  Now I storm to the bedroom. He eventually comes out with a towel wrapped around him.

  “I’m not doing it to try and impress him. I’m trying to make it easier for you. You’re going to be meeting lots of people and I want you to feel confident among them.”

  “Poor little orphan Annie, meeting all the big mucky-mucks. If I do this, Aaron, I’m not going to be anyone but myself. I don’t give a shit how I’m dressed.”

  “That’s another thing. Don’t curse.”

  “Fuck!”

  We’re married in a registry office. The first time we kiss is in front of the judge. It’s nicer than I expected. Then we go out for hamburgers. In between bites I admire my ring. That was a complete surprise. A gold band with little diamonds circling my finger.

  “I love it.”

  “I’m getting you a bigger one when we get to New York. We’ll go to Tiffany’s.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  “I’m your husband, Grace. I will buy you jewels for the rest of your life.”

  “I’d only lose them.”

  “Stop trying to be this macho chick. You’re beautiful, Grace. I want to see you in diamond earrings and bracelets. You’ll put all the other women to shame. My father thinks I’m a loser. With you on my arm, I’m no loser, and he’ll know that the minute he sees you.”

  Oh, brother.

  Before we go, I book an appointment with Dr. Lang, to make sure everything is okay with the baby. I’m six months pregnant and the baby is moving, but I don’t have a big belly. Listening to the heartbeat makes it seem real. While I lie on the table I wish with all my heart for this baby to be a girl. I’m ashamed to say I don’t want a boy. I’m afraid he’ll come out and look just like Philip. How am I going to take care of a child that reminds me of a terrible moment in my life? So every night I pray to a god I don’t believe in, just to cover all bases.

  It’s early October when we board the plane bound for New York. My instinct is to turn around and run, but when I glance at Aaron, he looks so happy. I do love this man. I’d be nowhere without him. He deserves my loyalty. If anything ever happened to me, Aaron would take care of my child. That’s worth everything. I have to make this work.

  I am an amazed Grace as I take in the sights of New York City. It’s overwhelming and I’m not sure where to look first. Aaron asks the taxi driver to take us to Times Square, and then to wait for us with the luggage. We get out and I literally stand in the middle of the street with my mouth open.

  “Aaron, pass me my camera!”

  Now I’m a true blue tourist, snapping pictures left, right, and centre. I’m delighted with everything.

  “Look at all the yellow taxis!”

  “I know!” he laughs.

  He gets a great kick out of me. Everything you could ever want is behind a pane of glass. “Can we go in a store?”

  “Of course.” We pile into the taxi once more and Aaron gets the driver to take us to Macy’s. “Wait here until we get back.”

  “Sure thing.”

  Aaron grabs my hand and we run into the store. It’s like a jewellery box. Everything sparkles and catches my eye. We ride up and down the escalator, and he grabs things I might like, buying them even though I protest. A pair of kid gloves, a scarf, a bottle of perfume with an atomizer. That, I’m thrilled with, because Aunt Pearl always had one on her dresser. I wrapped it in tissue paper and put it in the bureau drawer for safe keeping. Now I have a piece of her here in New York. How I wish they were with me to see this. Aunt Pearl would stick her nose in the air and pretend it was foolish, but she’d love it, and Aunt Mae would be beside herself, twirling in the aisles.

  We go up to the baby section and gape at the cribs, the dressing tables and rockers. There is every kind of stroller you could imagine. We buy plush toys and a huge stuffed giraffe. People stare at us as we try to shove it in the back of the taxi, but we don’t care. There’s only the two of us and baby makes three. We giggle in the back seat like school kids as we drive through traffic.

  “I’m so happy,” I say to Aaron.

  He takes my hand and kisses it. “As long as you’re happy, that’s all that matters.”

  I lean over and give him a proper kiss. It surprises him, I can tell. “Just give me time, Aaron. I know you’re suffering for the mistakes other men have made, but in time I’ll get better. You wait and see.”

  “I love you today, Mrs. Willingdon.”

  “And I do love you, Mr. Willingdon. One day I’ll show you how much.”

  It’s almost dusk when we arrive at a large townhouse on a quiet, tree-lined street. Even I, who know nothing, can tell that this place reeks of old money.

  “Are you ready?” Aaron smiles.

  “Let’s go.”

  The taxi driver helps us with our luggage, bags, and gigantic giraffe, depositing them on the front step. Aaron gives him a large tip, then takes out a key and unlocks the door. A large entrance hall is revealed, with marble floors and a chandelier.

  “You have a chandelier in your porch?”

  “It’s not a porch. It’s a vestibule.”

  “Excuse me.”

  The house is palatial. I hate it. It would be a catastrophe to break anything in here.

  “Please say w
e’re not living here.”

  “No. This is Dad’s house. We’ll have our own. We’ll pick it out together. This is just in the interim.”

  A man in a suit comes from nowhere. “Master Aaron. Good to see you, sir. Let me take those for you.”

  “Thanks, Parker. Parker, this is my wife, Grace.”

  Parker tries not to look astonished. “Welcome, Mrs. Willingdon. I’m at your service.”

  “Thanks, that’s not necessary. I can service myself.”

  Parker gives Aaron a quick glance and heads up the stairs with our luggage.

  “Let him do his job,” Aaron whispers as he hugs me. “It’s the one pleasure he has in life.”

  “That’s a lot of crap. I’m sure he’d love to put his feet up and stop running around after you lot.”

  Aaron laughs and laughs.

  We have our own suite. A lovely bedroom with a large bathroom and walk-in closets. There are armchairs flanking a fireplace with an ottoman in front, great for warming your toes. A secretary desk is placed between the floor-to-ceiling windows. If I’m lucky, I’ll never have to go downstairs. All the excitement has tuckered me out. I lie on the very comfortable bed with my arms wrapped around the giraffe.

  “I’ll let you rest.” Aaron shakes out a throw and tucks it around me. “I’ll be back up when it’s time for dinner. Perhaps you’d like a bath. There are robes hanging on hooks in the bathroom.”

  “Thank you,” I yawn.

  I rest for a couple of hours, not quite sleeping. This place is still unfamiliar to me, and it’s hard to relax. But I do take Aaron’s suggestion and have a hot bubble bath. I’ve never been in a tub like this. You can fit four people in here. It’s odd to have so much room, and I find the water gets colder faster. I daydream about our old tub back on Marble Mountain. A tub with claw feet and a sloping back, just perfect for resting your neck and feeling cozy. I’m going to insist on one for our new house.

  After waiting a while for Aaron to come back, I get impatient and decide to strike out on my own. I’ll get lost, I’m sure, but it’s a good excuse to snoop around. What’s so noticeable is that all these rooms are empty. Why do you need all this if no one is here to enjoy it? Of course, if Aaron’s mother wasn’t locked away in a home, maybe it would be cheerier.

  When I’m at the top of the main staircase, I hear raised voices coming from downstairs. It sounds like Aaron’s angry. What kind of a father would upset his son on a day he brings home his bride? Aaron needs my support. I haven’t even met his father and I hate him already. I’m grateful that I have on my new clothes, with my posh haircut and jewellery. Forget everything except that I’m Aaron Willingdon’s wife, heir to a huge fortune.

  My hands tremble.

  When I appear at the doorway of the study, both men turn to face me, their animosity still thick in the air.

  “There you are. Grace, come and meet my father.”

  I walk towards the man who looks like an older version of Aaron. It’s uncanny. He’s standing like an army officer, with neat dark hair and piercing blue eyes. The fact that he’s good-looking bugs me. Somehow I imagined him hunched over in a wheelchair, a bitter, twisted old man.

  “Dad, this is my wife, Grace. Grace, this is my father, Oliver Willingdon.”

  He puts out his hand, so I have to shake it. “Grace.”

  “Hello, Mr. Willingdon.”

  The three of us stand awkwardly for a few moments before Aaron’s father says, “Would you like a drink?”

  “I’ll have a Coke.”

  “A Coke?” Oliver glances at Aaron. “I do hope your new bride is old enough to drink.”

  “I’m twenty-one.”

  “Only twenty-one? I never imagined you to be one to rob the cradle, Aaron.”

  “I’m twenty-six. Hardly an old man.”

  Oliver walks to his desk and presses a button. Parker appears. “We’ll have a Coke, a Manhattan, and whatever the boy wants.”

  “The boy wants a Coke as well.”

  “Very good.” Parker disappears.

  “Aaron, why don’t you come sit by me?”

  “Sure thing.” He sits on the couch next to me and puts his arm around my shoulders. I put my hand on his leg to stop him from shaking it.

  “What part of Canada are you from?”

  “Nova Scotia.”

  “I went there to golf once. Rustic.”

  “It’s the best place on earth.”

  “Is it, now?”

  Once our drinks arrive, Oliver sits down behind his desk. It feels like Aaron and I are students in a principal’s office.

  Oliver holds up his drink before taking a mouthful. “Tell me, Aaron. Why did you get married in Canada? Why not come here and have a grand affair? You’re my only son. I would’ve wanted to celebrate that with my friends and colleagues from around the city. Weddings are always great for public relations.”

  “That’s exactly why. It was our wedding, not yours.”

  “I see. Now tell me, Grace, what is the nature of your family’s business?”

  “We didn’t have a family business.”

  “Your father?”

  “Don’t have one.”

  “Your mother?”

  “Don’t have one of those either.”

  “A girl with no family. How fortunate that you just happened to run into Aaron.”

  “Here we go.” Aaron stands up and walks to the fireplace. “Grace knew nothing about my background. Money doesn’t impress her.”

  “Is that right, Grace? Money doesn’t impress you?”

  I sip my Coke. “Not really.”

  “What does?”

  “The truth. Loyalty.”

  My father-in-law watches me closely. He can’t figure me out yet, and I think that makes him nervous.

  “What do you do, Grace?”

  “I was in university, but not anymore.”

  Oliver smirks. “Well, why would you be? You’ve found a more lucrative situation.”

  “Dad! Is it your mission in life to insult everyone you meet?”

  “I’m just trying to figure out why this happened so suddenly.”

  I stand up and put my glass on his desk, nowhere near the coaster. “I’m pregnant, that’s why. It’s a pretty common situation. We’re not the first, and we won’t be the last.”

  Now Oliver looks at Aaron with surprise. “I wasn’t expecting this.”

  “Neither were we,” I say.

  “I thought you might be happy for us, Dad. Haven’t you always wanted a grandchild?”

  “Yes, of course. This is very unexpected.” He gets out of his chair and walks over to shake Aaron’s hand. “Congratulations. You’ve become a man.”

  Then he comes over to me and takes my hand. “I owe you an apology, Grace. Please forgive me.”

  He looks straight at me but he doesn’t mean it in the least. He knows I’m a big nobody, and as much as he might want a grandchild, it’s killing him that someone like me is the mother. I only hope Aaron doesn’t figure it out, because there’s no way I’m telling him.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  NOW

  My back is sore. I’ve been sitting too long.

  “Wow,” says Jonathan. “Passing me off as blood kin to the Willingdon family. That didn’t bother you?”

  “No, not really. It didn’t make one bit of difference. Mr. Willingdon wanted a grandchild and you needed a father. Besides, I thought maybe one day your dad and I might have more kids.”

  “Doesn’t sound like it. You practically told Dad you didn’t want him to touch you.”

  “I was young and overwhelmed. At some point I knew your father and I would be together. I was very lucky to have someone who was willing to wait for me to catch up.”

  Jonathan picks at a piece of thread on his
sweater. “And you wanted a girl.”

  “That wasn’t anything personal, Jonathan. When you were born we were very happy, but I was a wreck. I knew nothing about babies and you had colic. I’d cry while you were crying. Your dad would spell me and take you outside for a walk or a ride in the car. He was more patient than I was. I was always afraid I’d hurt you somehow, but your dad would throw you around like a little football and you loved it. To tell you the truth, it was very obvious you loved your dad more than me. He’d be the one who got the hugs and kisses. I’d get the throw-up and the tantrums. Although they say now that babies pick up on your energy. Perhaps that’s why you liked to be held by your dad. I was more nervous.”

  “He was a good dad.”

  “What’s your favourite memory?”

  “When he’d let me ride him like a pony all over the living room. He’d yell, “Hi-Yo, Silver!”

  “I remember that. He was always goofing around.” I glance at the clock. It’s midnight. “I don’t know about you, but I’m beat. Can we talk some more tomorrow? Any chance we could take a drive or go for lunch? I think we need to get out of this bedroom.”

  Jonathan stands. “Yeah, all right. I can only handle so much in one stretch. This is hard.”

  He looks like a little boy. I don’t care if he bats me away, I go over to him and put my arms around him. He lets me, but he doesn’t hug me back. It’s enough that he’s still. I hear his heart through his sweater, just like at the doctor’s office so long ago. I should be ashamed of myself for what I did to this kid. I should’ve known better. How do you live with your worst mistakes?

  My sleep is restless. I dream about trying to find Jonathan in the woods but he won’t come to me. Then he turns into Buddy and I have to chase him. Buddy ends up on the big rock by the bog, washing his paws.

  “I’m sorry, Buddy.” I put my hand out to pat him, but he hisses and scratches me before disappearing back into the woods. I don’t blame him. I’m the one who lost him.