Declan laughed.
“You must have been totally bored watching us all make fools of ourselves,” said Ana.
“I liked watching you,” Declan admitted.
“All those shepherds falling over one another. The script just says ‘shepherds’ without saying how many. Mr. Hetherington put in two whole classes of kids from grades four and five so he could get more people involved. What a scream. But they sound good, don’t they, the shepherds?”
Declan had liked the shepherds. “I liked the shepherds.”
“And you liked me too?”
He had hardly taken his eyes off her. “I liked you the best.”
“Thanks.”
Then Declan asked Ana what she wanted to be.
“When I grow up, you mean? I haven’t thought about it too much. But working with animals would be interesting; a vet maybe?”
They walked along in silence. Then Ana said, “I’m afraid to ask you the same question, Declan.”
“Why?” But he knew what she was thinking.
“I’m just afraid you’ll start on again about joining the IRA and setting Ireland free from the English and all that stuff . . . “
“It’s not stuff!”
“Okay, sorry, but I can’t stand it. I don’t want to think of you being killed before your life really starts. My heart goes cold.”
Declan was silent. She sounded a lot like Mairead sometimes. He took her hand. It was like ice.
Another evening, after rehearsal.
“You’re very gloomy and silent. What is it? Didn’t you like the way the rehearsal went?”
“It isn’t that,” said Ana.
“What, then?”
“I was just thinking.”
Silence.
“I was thinking that I wish you weren’t leaving us. I really do.”
Chapter Twenty-one
It was time for the seal to leave.
They carried Harper down to the sea in a tarpaulin. He had put on plenty of healthy weight. Declan and Kate held the tarpaulin on one side, Matthew and Ana the other. Thomas guarded the front so their burden would not tumble off as they climbed down over the rocks.
Harper’s black eyes glittered with excitement as he raised his nose in the air, smelling the sea. They talked to him like a baby.
When they got to the ocean’s edge, they lowered Harper to the sand and stood back, watching him trundle forward eagerly, head swaying, into the waves.
“Goodbye, Harper,” Ana called.
“Goo’bye, Harper,” Thomas cried.
Kate said, “Ah! It’s good to see him go back where he belongs. He’ll be happier now. Home is where the heart is, after all.”
They stood watching for several minutes as Harper dived and sported in the waves. After a while, the seal hobbled back out up onto the sand, barking, wanting to play.
“Leave him be,” said Matthew, walking away toward the house. The others followed.
Harper started after them, but stopped when they kept going.
They watched the seal from the porch, looking down over the edge of the cliff at the dark, lonely figure on the shingle. Declan could not take his eyes off the seal. “Go home, Harper,” he whispered.
“Will he go away?” said Thomas.
“Soon,” said Ana.
Harper plunged into the waves. He wasn’t playing now.
“He’s swimming!” yelled Thomas.
Matthew and Kate came out on the porch to watch. Matthew had his binoculars.
Harper swam boldly out to sea. All Declan could see was his shiny black head bobbing in the waves. The head got smaller and smaller. After a while he could not see it. He stared at the empty sea and felt a surprising, jolting sense of loss.
Harper had gone home.
After school on Friday, Kate told Declan and Ana, “Dinner is early today, and then Matthew and I are away shopping in Sechelt. The shops are open till nine.” She pulled down the stove door and peered inside.
“Take me and Leah, too,” said Ana. “We want to see Beethoven. It’s a movie.”
“Ah, Beethoven is it?” said Kate. “I love the ninth symphony, so I do.” She slammed the stove door shut.
“Not that Beethoven,” said Ana, laughing. “This is a dog called Beethoven.”
“But who’s to look after Thomas?” said Kate. “Unless you take him with you, but come to think of it, there isn’t enough room for all of you in the truck.”
“Declan, would you look after Thomas?” said Ana.
“Sure,” said Declan.
“Thanks,” said Ana. “That’s settled. I’ll go call Leah.”
“Ah, Thomas is no trouble, Declan,” said Kate. “He likes the television, and when it’s time for bed, he loves you to sit him in your lap and read him a story.”
“So I’ve noticed. But if he sits in my lap, he’ll crush me to death.”
“Never the bit,” said Kate, laughing fondly. Her face grew serious. “But he needs to be watched. I wouldn’t want him to be fiddling about with the stove or playing with knives. Don’t let him out of your sight for long, you understand? We should all be back by nine-thirty.”
Declan nodded. “We’ll watch TV together.”
Which is what they did, and at eight o’clock, Thomas handed Declan a picture book. “Read me, Declan.”
Declan took the book. See You Later, Alligator. He started to read. Thomas stopped him and parked himself on Declan’s lap. He weighed a ton. Declan started the story.
The telephone rang in the kitchen. Thomas jumped up and ran for it. “I’ll answer!” shouted Declan. Thomas picked up the phone and handed it to him.
“That you, Matthew?” Gruff voice.
“Matthew is out. Who’s calling?”
“Joel Murphy, bartender at the Victoria. You must be Declan.”
“Right.”
“Is Kate there?”
“She’s out too.”
“Will they be back soon?”
“Nine-thirty or so.”
“Phew! That’s too late. Look, Declan, Daisy Ritter is drunk as a fish. She’s done this before. Right now—can you hear her?—she’s singing her heart out.”
Declan listened. It certainly sounded noisy there. He could hear a high voice singing “Darling Clementine.” It couldn’t possibly be gentle, ladylike Miss Ritter singing in the bar, he decided. “You sure it’s Miss Ritter?”
“Do I know my own mother? Pretty soon she’s gonna pass out. Last time she broke her collar bone. Ask Matthew. You think you could come down and fetch her? We tried already to take her home, but she started yellin’ an’ screamin’ an’ cuttin’ up so bad we had to back off for fear of hurtin’ the old lady. You think you could get over here and talk her down offa the pool table?”
“She’s on the pool table?”
“You got it, Declan.”
“I don’t know if it’ll do much good, but I’ll be over.”
“Make it quick, Declan.”
Declan put down the phone. “Shoes on, Thomas. We have to go out. Get your jacket. Let’s make it quick.”
“Where, Declan?” Thomas pulled on his sneakers.
“The hotel. Hurry.” He helped Thomas tie his laces.
Declan had never been in a Canadian bar before. It was crowded, noisy and smoky. He felt out of place as soon as he walked in with Thomas. Mostly men, they stopped what they were doing to watch Declan and Thomas make their way through the tables to the bar. Declan could hear a woman singing, but there was no sign of Miss Ritter.
“You Joel Murphy?” Declan asked the big, heavy man behind the bar.
“Thanks for comin’, Declan.” Joel Murphy pointed to an alcove at the back of the room.
It was Miss Ritter all right. There was no mistaking the old lady’s birdlike frame and gray hair. Standing daintily in the middle of the pool table and singing at the top of her voice about a bicycle made for two, she was surrounded by a crowd of people singing merrily along with her. In her hand she held a g
lass of liquor. She appeared to be enjoying herself.
Thomas laughed. “Miss Ritter!”
Joel Murphy took them over. Declan stood looking up at her. Miss Ritter saw him and stopped singing. “Walter!” she said.
“Hello, Miss Ritter,” said Declan.
“And Thomas!” said Miss Ritter.
“We’ve come to escort you home,” said Declan.
“Home?” Miss Ritter looked puzzled. Then she smiled. “Escort me, Walter?”
“That’s right.” said Declan.
Like a queen, the old lady held out her arm. Declan reached up and took it. Joel Murphy took her other arm. They lowered her gently to the floor.
“Thank you, Walter.”
Joel stepped back. Declan and Thomas led her through the bar and out the door to the street.
It was dark and cold outside. Miss Ritter looked up at Declan. “Your Aunt Daisy has had a little too much to drink, Walter.” She shivered.
Declan pulled off his sweater and slipped it over Miss Ritter’s head. They walked her home. “I’m half crazy,” sang Miss Ritter softly, “all for the love of you.”
Declan took her upstairs to her room. “Thank you, Walter, for escorting me,” said Miss Ritter. “You’re very much like your father, you know. You were always a tenderhearted boy. Goo’night, Walter.”
“Goodnight, Aunt Daisy,” said Declan.
Later, while Matthew drove Leah home, Declan told Kate and Ana about Miss Ritter. “Ah, thank God she’s home safe then,” said Kate. “She fractured her clavicle last year when she took a fall after a drink, the poor thing. I’ll go up to see if she’s all right.”
As he lay in his bed that night, Declan thought about Miss Ritter. Why had he gone to the hotel? Joel Murphy was an old worrier. Miss Ritter would have been all right until Matthew or Kate got there, wouldn’t she? Why had he felt so protective towards the old lady? Why had he called her Aunt Daisy? There was something about the whole incident that bothered him. He twisted and turned in his bed for almost an hour, sleep eluding him.
Then just as he was beginning to settle down, a thought struck him. “No!” he wailed. He sat up. “They’re making a bloody Fixer out of me!” he said aloud.
The gymnasium was decorated with red and green streamers; a huge ‘Peace on Earth. Goodwill Toward all Men’ sign hung over the stage.
The curtain went up ten minutes late, but by then everyone had settled down and an excited buzz of anticipation ran through the crowd.
Mrs. Gaynor, the music teacher, played the piano, and the children sang and acted their parts in the story of the poor crippled shepherd boy who makes a gift of his only possession—his crutch—to the Christ Child.
After the conclusion of the opera, the entire cast came back on stage to sing “Silent Night,” “Adeste Fidelis,” and “Away in a Manger.” The audience applauded.
When the singers finally came out of their dressing room, Ana a kid once again in sweatshirt and jeans and no longer an impoverished widow, Kate was the first to hug her. “Ah, you’re the lovely girl.” She kissed her. “With the voice of an angel.”
Matthew was next. “You make us all proud, Ana,” he said. He kissed her.
Thomas was next. “Proud, Ana,” he said happily, hugging her. Ana kissed him affectionately on the cheek.
Declan stood watching her excited face. “Did you enjoy it, Declan?” said Ana.
“I did,” he said.
They drove home, Declan and Thomas in the back of the truck blowing their breath on their hands to keep them warm.
“Well, it’s glad I am that the rehearsing is all over,” said Matthew when they were home. “A wise king I would never make. Maybe now I can go back to my reading.”
Ana and Thomas were excited about Christmas. Declan was excited too, but for quite a different reason: he would be going home as soon as it was over.
He was on his way down the stairs one morning, when he overheard Kate say to Matthew in the family room, “It hangs over the house like a thick black cloud, so it does.” He paused on the stair, listening.
Matthew said, “Hmmph!”
Kate said, “There isn’t the one of us looking forward to Christmas this year, and that’s the truth.”
Declan guessed they were talking about him. He did not want to listen, but his feet wouldn’t move.
Matthew said, “Hmmph!” again.
“Yesterday morning,” continued Kate, “Ana wanted to tear down that calendar of yours off the wall. Why? I says to her. ‘It’s that awful red square,’ she says, ‘I hate it!’ I looked at the eagle there on the wall and I’d swear to God if the creature hasn’t the evil eye.”
“Nonsense,” said Matthew.
“Nonsense yourself,” said Kate. “Look at the rascal, will you? Fixing us with his cruel stare. Ana is right to want it down. ‘Declan is leaving!’ it seems to be screeching at us like a banshee.”
Matthew said, “Hmmph!”
Kate said, “It mocks us.”
Declan could listen to no more. He made a noise on the stair and entered the room just as Matthew was pulling the calendar down off the wall and stuffing it away out of sight in one of the kitchen drawers.
Chapter Twenty-two
“Well, you better believe it, Joe.”
“I was sure you would stay. I never took you for a fool, Declan.”
“You don’t understand. I’ve got to go back.”
Joe was silent. Then he said, “I’ll miss your ugly face.”
“I’ll miss your ugly face too, Joe.”
“You want to wrestle? See whose face is the ugliest?”
Declan smiled. “No thanks.”
“You are like a brother to me, Declan.”
Declan flushed with embarrassment. “You’re not about to suggest we become blood brothers, I hope, Joe.”
Joe grinned. “No. That’s for the movies. But we could shake hands as brothers.”
They shook hands.
“Isn’t it too cold for you to be sitting out here in the wind?”
“Ah, I have my warm jacket. And my mitts.” Kate held up the hand that wasn’t holding the crayon, leaving her elbow to hold down the pad on her knees.
“All the same . . . “ Declan sat down on a barnacle-covered rock, and pulled the collar of his jacket up around his neck. “Will it stop you working if I sit a minute?”
“Not the bit.” Kate did not look at him. She was watching the curl of the waves as they crashed on the rocks. “You looking forward to Christmas?”
“I don’t care about any of that stuff.”
“This will be our twelfth here in Canada.” She gave him a quick glance. “Best thing we ever did was to leave Northern Ireland.”
“Couldn’t you have gone somewhere else—in Ireland, I mean?”
“Ah, the work was bad everywhere. In 1981 you could have a letter of introduction from the Holy Ghost and still find no work.” The wind blew her hair. That was the terrible year, 1981, the year your sister was born, and your da . . . “
“My da was butchered by the dirty Prods!”
Kate put down her brush. “Declan . . .” She stopped.
Declan waited for her to go on, but she picked out a pastel, and looked out to sea.
“It was the same year Bobby Sands of the IRA was elected Member of Parliament, and him in the Maze prison on a hunger strike against the British. Less than a month later he was dead. Sixty-six days without the bit of food. There were terrible riots for more than a week in Derry and Belfast. Then they stopped, but broke out again, and this time they spread to Dublin.” Kate shook her head. “The English sent six hundred more soldiers, making twelve hundred troops in the North. And more tanks. The fighting was terrible fierce. I never want to see the like of it ever again.” Kate resumed sketching. “You were a child, Declan.” She smiled.
“What was my ma like then, in those days?”
“Your ma was always the lovely woman, God bless her! She’d give you her last penny if y
ou needed it. But with the death of your da, and then the new baby coming . . . your poor ma was worried to distraction. Matthew had a friend who came out here, making good money in the logging, and he said there was plenty of work. We asked your ma to come with us, but she wouldn’t. ‘I’ll not leave the place where I was born and where Liam is buried, and drag two childer halfway across the world,’ she said.”
Declan tried to imagine Matthew and Kate leaving Ireland, and leaving his ma and Declan and the baby behind. How would things have turned out if his ma had gone with them? Would they be alive today? Instead of lying in the cold ground of Milltown Cemetery?
Declan stood. “I’m chilled with the cold.” He turned to go.
Kate packed her things. “I’ll walk back with you. The light is gone, and the wind is stronger.”
They walked home together into the wind on the strip of sand between the the sea and the shingle.
It rained on Christmas day.
Thomas burst into Declan’s room and woke him up. “Merry Christmas, Declan!” he cried, his eyes wide with excitement.
Declan opened one eye and looked out the window at the rain. Then he looked at the clock by his bed: six. He groaned and pulled the covers over his head. “Go away, Thomas. Let me sleep.”
But Thomas would not let him sleep; he pulled at the covers until Declan finally surrendered after a brief but noisy wrestling bout.
Downstairs, everyone exchanged small gifts: books, sweaters, socks, pens, mints (for Matthew), bracelets and the like. Everyone, that is, except Declan who had no gifts to give anyone. Matthew and Kate made him a small regular allowance, but he was saving it for his return to Ireland. “I told you. I don’t believe in Christmas. I want no gifts,” he declared.
“Don’t fuss yourself, Declan love,” said Kate. “The gifts are only small ones.”
For an answer, Declan took himself out and down the cliff to the beach where he sat alone on his usual rock and stared out to sea.
When he returned two hours later, they were all back from Mass. Kate and Matthew said nothing, for they were both busy in the kitchen; Ana and Thomas acted as though nothing had happened. Mr. Sawchuk from the general store and another man had come back from Mass with them and sat talking in the living room, glasses of Matthew’s homemade elderberry wine in their fists.
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