Amazing Grace

by Lesley Crewe

  Then I head for the bog, thinking some of the stuff I buried might still be there. But the hike into the woods is fraught with emotion. With the memories of my mother, sister, and me running, and then crouching behind the rock, all of us touching, our breath intermingled.

  When I get to the big rock, I foolishly hope that Buddy will be sitting on it. Once again I wonder what happened to him. The guilt I feel about leaving him behind—is it the same guilt that my mother and sister felt, leaving me?

  Rooting around in the dirt by the rock, I come up with one of the shoes I stole from a girl so long ago. I put it back; it was never mine. I sit on the rock and listen to the silence, and eventually I take out my camera and snap pictures of the bog, the surrounding trees, the rock itself, and the spot where we hid.

  When I notice the shadows getting longer, I get up and leave the bog behind. Passing through the yard, I know there is no need to take pictures of phantom buildings and a destroyed barn. I’m glad they’re gone. I have no wish to bring them home with me.

  When I’m back in the car I take a deep, slow breath. Then I drive back to the motel and spend a long night looking at the ceiling.

  It’s too expensive to stay in motels forever, and soon I rent a room in a boarding house and start a job as a cashier at the local grocery store. I miss Marble Mountain, but I’m alone here or there, so I might as well focus on my mission.

  My job at the grocery store lasts a year. On my days off I frequent social service departments in Guelph, Brampton, Waterloo, and Kitchener, the agencies that would have had my records. The foster homes that took me in were in this area—surely someone must remember something. Any information, no matter how small, I keep. That and look through the missing persons records at the police station, trying to find a paper trail, but it all leads to nothing. It’s like they walked out the bedroom door and evaporated.

  There’s a woman who works with Children’s Services in Guelph, a Mrs. Nearing, who’s found some of my records from when I first left the compound. There isn’t much in the file, just that I was being passed off to Kitchener Children’s Services. But there is one reference that perks up my ears.

  “It says here that you left the facility with only the clothes on your back and a cat.”

  I jump out of the chair. “Buddy! Is he still here? Where did they take him?”

  “I’m sorry. It doesn’t say. And I don’t imagine the cat is still alive.”

  “There’s no need to remind me of that!” I collapse back in the office chair. “I’m sorry. You’re only trying to help.”

  She does listen carefully to what I tell her about the compound and she’s found records of some of the other children who were relocated after the fire, but there’s nothing on Maria. I check in with her too often. One day I knock on her door and can tell by the look on her face, she’s exasperated.

  “Sit down, Grace.”

  “Have you found anything?” I sit in the chair by her desk.

  “No. If I do, I will call you immediately, but if I don’t call it’s because I have nothing. I hate to see you look so disappointed. You may have unreal expectations about this situation. It’s been more than twenty years since the fire and anything could have happened to them. You have to accept that you may never know the truth and get on with your life. Do you have a life, other than working at the grocery store? Do you date, do you have friends, do you go out to dinner or a movie once in a while?”

  “No.”

  “Grace, I hate to say this, but they may be dead. You could search your whole life and in the end find nothing. Then your life has been wasted as well. You need to make your own family, and stop obsessing about this.”

  “After losing my cat and spending four years in four different foster homes, I found my family. My elderly aunts took me in, but they died one after the other. I married and had a child, but my husband was killed in an accident I caused and then my son was taken from me by his grandfather. I’ve tried the happy family route and it isn’t as wonderful as you people make out. I lose everything. That’s why I keep looking. If there is any chance that I can find my mother and my sister, do you think I’d stop?”

  She looks at me with such sadness. “I’m so sorry, Grace. You don’t deserve this.”

  “I’m sure there are people worse off than me.” I stand up. “Thank you, Mrs. Nearing. If you hear anything you have my number.”

  At work later that night, around suppertime, I look up after giving a lady her change and there in the last checkout aisle is Helen. I’m almost positive. It couldn’t possibly be anyone else.

  “Helen!” I startle the man taking the groceries out of his cart. “Helen!”

  Her head comes up and she looks around.

  “Helen! It’s me, Grace. Amazing Grace!”

  Helen finally puts her eyes on me and her reaction is instant. “Grace! Is that you?”

  We run to each other ignoring everyone else in the store. We stay in each others arms and hold tight.

  “I’m so happy to see you,” I whisper.

  “Oh, me too. Me too.”

  We let go so we can look at each other again, both of us incredulous. I can hear my manager yapping at me to get back to work.

  “I have to work until nine. Can we meet for coffee somewhere?”

  “Sure. How about the Tim’s on the corner at nine? I’ll go home and then come back. Or why not come to my place?”

  “Let’s just meet at Tim’s for now. I’m still too shaky to go anywhere.”

  She laughs. “Okay. I’ll be there.”

  She runs back and gets her groceries and I skedaddle back to my post. The man I was serving gives me a smile. “An old friend?”

  “Oh yes. A childhood friend. They’re the best kind.”

  Three hours never seemed so long. My stomach is chewed up. I’m terrified I’ll wake up and this is a dream.

  When nine comes I’m out of the store in a flash. I take the car and boot it down to Tim Hortons. I can see her sitting at a table by the window. When I get out of the car she spies me and waves. I quickly order a large coffee and hurry to her table. We embrace again before settling into our chairs.

  “I would’ve known you anywhere, Helen. You look exactly the same!”

  “Hardly, but thanks for saying so. I wouldn’t have recognized you. You’re only thirty-five and your hair is silver!”

  “It turned that way a while back. I can’t be bothered colouring it.”

  She reaches over and takes my hand. “After all these years, to finally see you. I was so sad after the fire. I never saw you again and no one told me where you went. Mom didn’t know and everything was messed up after that.”

  “I went into foster care. A complete nightmare.”

  “We ended up in foster care too.”

  “But you had your mother.”

  “My mother had some sort of breakdown and couldn’t take care of us, so we kids were split up. I see some of them from time to time, but you sort of lose track of each other. Did you ever find your mom and sister?”

  “No. I’ve been looking for them. So far no luck. But now you’re here and I feel so much better. Do you live right in Guelph?”

  She nods. “I’m with a friend at the moment because my boyfriend and I split up a couple of months ago. I have a little girl now. Do you have any kids?”

  “A son.”

  “Funny we haven’t bumped into each other.”

  “I’ve been out east mostly.”

  Eventually we decide we both need a smoke, and then we need a drink, so we hop down to a local bar and sit in a corner. One beer leads to two, which leads to three, and now I have the courage to ask her questions.

  “When we were at the camp, did the man ever sexually abuse you?”

  Helen’s eyes turn dark. “Yes. Did he do it to you, too?”

 
“To me and my sister.”

  “I was terrified of him. He’d just look at me and I’d cry, but he’d do it anyway.”

  “I’m sorry, Helen.”

  “When I listen to other kids talk about their childhood it makes me sad.” Helen takes a gulp of her beer. “I don’t ever remember having fun, except when we were together in the treehouse. It was so stressful all the time, waiting for someone to slap you or yell at you for displeasing God. I haven’t darkened the door of a church since.”

  “Why did our mothers go with the man? Is he our father? Oh god, I hope not. That thought is worse than anything else.” I shudder with a cold chill that sneaks up my spine.

  “He wasn’t my dad. Mom told me my father walked out on her before she went to the compound. I doubt he was yours. You look nothing like him.”

  “I don’t think so either. But what was wrong with our mothers? They had to be crazy, or doped to the eyeballs. When they describe cults on television, I know that’s exactly what we were in. Those women were brainwashed.”

  The two of us nod sadly at each other.

  “Do you ever see your mom now?” I ask Helen.

  “Not very often. She’s always looking for a handout. She’s got arthritis and claims she can’t get around, but she’s off to the liquor store often enough when it suits her. I’m much better off without her. I have enough problems of my own.”

  “Is there any chance that you know where the man is?” I didn’t even know I was going to ask this question. I blurted it out without thinking.

  Helen looks surprised. “Why would you want to see him again?”

  “I want to ask him if he knows where my mother is. And my sister.”

  “The stupid bastard probably wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

  “I want him to know that he didn’t break me.”

  “I can ask around, but don’t get your hopes up.”

  We promise to see each other again. When I get back to my room, I fall across the bed and sleep straight through until the next afternoon. Just knowing that Helen is happy to see me makes me feel a thousand percent better about everything. I have a friend and I don’t intend to lose her again.

  We meet regularly. I’m introduced to her daughter. She’s a sickly little thing, her nose always running, with a hacking cough. I worry about her but Helen says she’s fine, that’s she allergic to lots of things. I’m not fond of the roommate. She looks like a hard character, but she’s out most of the time. Fortunately Helen never asks me probing questions about my life; she’s an easy friend. Not someone who’s out for anything. But in the end she does give me something I was looking for.

  She calls me. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but I found Ed Wheeler. He lives in a ramshackle place on the eastern side of town, near the Esso station. People mostly leave him alone. They say he’s nuts. There’s no way you should go near this guy, Grace. Please don’t.”

  “Don’t worry, Helen. I probably won’t. Thanks.”

  I go looking for him. I find his place quite easily and park on the other side of the road, and watch for a few hours. There’s never anyone around. It becomes a bit of a ritual. If I’m driving by that way, I’ll stop and check to see if there’s any movement. In the end I think that maybe Helen’s information is old. It doesn’t look like anyone lives here anymore.

  Fed up with getting no results, I step out of the car one day and walk right up on his property. It’s overgrown and desolate, garbage strewn from one end of the lawn to the other, a rank smell permeating everything.

  This is the perfect depiction of his soul.

  I turn to leave and a movement behind the curtain in the window catches my eye. He’s definitely in there. He’s afraid of who I am, or what I represent. I go right up to his door and pound on it.

  “Ed Wheeler! I know you’re in there. Come out right now.”

  Nothing.

  “Ed! I want to speak to you. It’s about the camp on the Wainwright property. I have some information for you regarding some money you may be owed. By an insurance company.”

  “I don’t believe you,” he shouts from inside.

  “Suit yourself.” I call his bluff and walk back across the lawn towards my car.

  “Hey, you!” He stands on his porch in his bare feet. The clothes he’s wearing haven’t been washed in weeks. Everything about him is yellow, like he’s rotting from the inside out. “What money?”

  I walk back towards him. There are no thoughts, only feelings churned up from the dark. I go right up to him and hit him as hard as I can right across the face. He howls with surprise and pain and tries to get back into the house, but I grab his shirt and give him an almighty kick, right where it hurts. He drops like a stone and writhes on the ground.

  “I am Amazing Grace. Where is my mother, Trixie? Where is Ave Maria? You tell me, old man, or so help me…”

  He’s crying and can hardly speak. “Who? Who are you?”

  “A little girl you raped over and over again because it made you feel powerful and mighty. But look what happened. You’re on the floor cowering, just like I used to. Don’t you remember, or did you have so many little girls, we just get muddled up in your filthy brain?”

  “I don’t know who you are! Leave me alone.”

  I give him another kick and grab his shirt. “Where is Trixie? The woman you beat every night. Where is she?”

  “I don’t know…she ran away. I never saw her again.”

  “And my sister?”

  “I’m telling you I don’t know.”

  “I’ll kick you again, old man.”

  He leans upward and looks me in the eye. “I don’t know! You have to believe me. I never saw them after the fire.”

  “They disappeared years before the fire.”

  “They did?”

  This man has no brain left. It’s been destroyed by perversion and drugs. He’ll never be able to tell me anything.

  I point my finger in his face. “You are going straight to hell, Ed Wheeler. You have the devil inside you and we all know what happens to evil people. They burn forever. The very thought of it makes me giddy. You tried to destroy me, but you didn’t. You tried to possess me but you couldn’t. I am the powerful one now. The tables have turned, you creep. You have no one. You are a big nobody. You will never cross my mind again, because I win, you bastard. I win.”

  I’m almost across the lawn when he shouts, “They left because they didn’t love you. Nobody loves you!”

  Don’t look back.

  As satisfying as it is in the moment to confront Ed Wheeler, his last words manage to hurt me again. Why did I go and see him? There was nothing to be gained by giving him the opportunity to poke me with a stick. My little escapade backfires on me and I get very low.

  Helen and her roommate offer me a joint one night and soon I’m getting high most days. I need to forget that my grand plans for finding my family are clearly not progressing. When I’m not at work, I go over to Helen’s and sit on her couch just for something to do. While I’m wasted, I love Helen, but when I sober up it bothers me that Helen thinks it’s okay to smoke up in front of her little girl. And yet I’m doing it too.

  When her daughter stays with her dad, Helen has men over. It becomes a party very quickly. All the guys who show up are loser types. They think I’m a stuck-up bitch. At one point I smoke so much weed that I nod off. When I come to, there’s a guy lying on top of me with his hand down my pants and his tongue in my mouth. Instantly, I give him such a shove he lands on the floor, cracking his head on the coffee table as he falls. I stand over him.

  “You’re a pig. Keep your hands off me.”

  I go to leave but he grabs my ankle, causing me to fall to the floor beside him. Then he proceeds to kneel over me and punch me in the face until I can’t see because of the blood. Helen is screaming in the background and so
me guys pull him off me, but the damage is done.

  Helen drives to the hospital high, but we get there in one piece. I’m such a bloody mess that they take me right in. My nose is broken and I’ve fractured my cheekbone. The doctor tells me I could have lost an eye.

  When I’m eventually released the next day, my face a swollen wreck, Helen is there. I didn’t ask her to pick me up. She must have been hanging around. She tries to hug me.

  “I’m sorry, Grace! You’ll never see that bastard again. I’ll make sure of it.”

  “It’s not your fault. I’m taking a cab home. I’ll call you when I’m better.”

  “I can drive you home. You need someone to take care of you!”

  Not you, my dear.

  “I’ll call.”

  My manager at work is annoyed that I’m taking a few days off, but he’s always annoyed. The phone rings every night; I assume it’s Helen. I don’t pick up.

  While I’m recuperating on my single bed I hear Aunt Pearl’s voice. She’s disappointed with me. I need to make it right. I’m furious with myself because I’m going downhill and I see that now. There is nothing for me here, but I stay in the boarding house until the worst of the bruising and swelling have gone down. Sitting in silence helps me. It’s a little late to plan what I want to be when I grow up, but the times I’ve had someone to look after have been the most satisfying. To be needed by someone made me feel good inside.

  Helen, fed up with not hearing from me, shows up at my door one morning. I invite her in.

  “You look much better,” she says. “I was worried. Why didn’t you answer the phone?”

  “I didn’t have the energy to talk.”

  “Poor you. Well, once you’re better we’ll have some good times.”