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Angel in Blue Jeans

Page 14

by Richard L. Coles


  Because that’s what I’m made for. I want to know I can take all the crap and still do my job, whatever the job might be. I want a job with a real challenge. Yeah, that’s it; I need challenge.

  Her mind went back to the meeting in the Johnsons’ backyard. She had had the whole of the Gardens and the Mews in her charge. She recalled the feeling of exhilaration it had given her, the feeling of power. And yet, with that feeling of power, of control, was the sense of concern, the knowing that she wanted them to accept and believe in what she believed in.

  Tony. What would he say? What about Tony? She liked Tony a lot, a real big lot. But … but what? Somehow, she couldn’t put her finger on it, but … it wasn’t she didn’t love him, ’cause she did.

  Or did she? Was it real love, was it what everybody says ‘you know for sure when it’s for real’? But she wasn’t sure …

  So, it wasn’t real love, then. But what did Tony think it was? Did he think the same way as she did? Probably not, he’s a guy. Guys just don’t.

  And she and Tony had not been seeing each other quite so frequently in recent weeks—not that she didn’t feel the same, or anything like that. Dana was just finding that she had to spend so much more time on schoolwork in Grade Twelve, whereas Tony, being in a different program, didn’t seem to need the time.

  He was, though, spending more time with some friends who often went over to the Quebec side, where the minimum drinking-age was only eighteen. Tony was eighteen now, and she knew he was drinking when he was with that crowd.

  Yeah, she knew lots of kids did the same, and it was legal, but considering what had happened to Vince and Bryce, she worried about him sometimes.

  What would he think if she joined the Armed Forces? He hadn’t been keen when she’d mentioned being a policewoman, ages ago.

  And she couldn’t understand why he seemed to be less involved in the conversion of the old brewery buildings. That was the other thing that was taking up so much of her time. Mr Simpson often called on her to join this meeting or that, with architects or with Tony’s dad’s workmen. She found that exciting, but Tony seemed to be making excuses all the time and avoiding helping. She just didn’t get it, and she felt hurt.

  What would her Mom and Dad say? She didn’t know; she really didn’t know what their reactions would be. They knew, of course, that she’d been to Petawawa; Mom and Dad had met Graham. They knew Jane from the accident; in fact, Jane and her mother had become quite friendly, now that Jane lived nearby. And they knew that she had been out with Jane and a couple of other police officers on patrol.

  She presumed her mom and dad had just taken all this as valuable hunting out of information on possible careers, and they had kept away from seeming overbearing and prying.

  In fact, Dana had been out on a number of tours of businesses, organized by the school’s careers counsellor.

  When she would get to tell them about her decision, her dad wouldn’t say much; he rarely did, especially these days. Her mom would probably be all logical-like, and list all the reasons for—then list all the reasons against.

  How should she tell them? Together? Or one at a time? Maybe one at a time, then she’d more likely get straight reactions; her mom wouldn’t be ‘tut-tutting’ her dad.

  Maybe her dad would talk to her more openly if it was just him and her; he’d been in the Air Force when he was young—but he never talked with her about it. Yep, she would talk with him first.

  She began to see that she needed some reassurance that she was going to do the right thing. But why? She already knew in her heart that it was decided; she just had to do it.

  Somewhere, she heard a voice, faintly—or was she imagining?

  She was startled into the present by a light tap at her door, and a voice: “Dana, it’s time for dinner. Are you okay?” The room was in darkness now, but she hadn’t noticed.

  “Coming,” she called back.

  The mealtime was a usual Munro ritual. Not much conversation, beyond the necessary words to conduct the ceremony of the meal. Her mother made the usual attempts at kick-starting conversations, but they always ran out of fuel before they got anywhere. Her mother’s standard opener was: ‘What did you (do/think/say) …?’

  Oftentimes, her brother Iain wasn’t there, because of some sports practice or other, so with her father’s general reluctance to say much at any time, she was mostly on her own to contend with her mother’s openers.

  It wasn’t that she didn’t like conversing with her mother—to be honest, she did, at other times. But at mealtimes, her mother’s style always seemed to be prying.

  She felt sorry for her mother, though, especially this past year. Her mom always seemed so tired and drawn, exhausted in fact; she couldn’t be enjoying her job. Maybe her mom wanted something new to talk about at mealtimes, separate from her school troubles. She knew her mom had a tough time with some of the kids.

  After the meal, Dana helped her mother with the dishes; no real conversation, except to comment on rejects and to watch those greasy pans against her jeans.

  Chores finished, she went off to find her father, down in the little den he had built in the basement when Dana was still a little girl. It was so long ago that Dana had only vague recollections of the upheaval of building it, when her toys and Iain’s toys had to be uprooted to make way for the big pieces of wood and stuff. And this was because their new little baby brother, Bryce, was in need of a room upstairs.

  And there he was, her dad, watching some program on sports. “Hi Dan, my sweet,” he smiled. He always gave her a smile. For all his quietness, she loved her dad.

  She sat down at his feet, spreading her arms up over his knees and resting her chin on her hands.

  “Something on your mind, love?”

  Dana loved listening to his soft, Scottish accent. “Yeah, there is.”

  “Wanna talk?”

  “You mind?” Dana tilted her head toward the television.

  “Och, not at all.” He turned the television off with the remote. “It was only a rerun of the game last weekend—Ah’ve seen all the good bits.”

  He shifted his position slightly, causing Dana to re-adjust her position while retaining the basic arrangement.

  “Fire away.”

  Dana was quick to hear the unwitting pun only she could catch at the moment. Quite an appropriate remark, she thought to herself.

  “Dad?” She paused. “Dad, why did you join the Air Force?”

  He thought for a moment. “Well, Dan, ye see, it was a good way to get a job in those days, and to get trained for a job when you came out.”

  “Did you enjoy it?”

  “We-ell, I canna say I didn’t enjoy it, but then again, I canna say I did enjoy it. Ye see, it was a lot of both. There were some good times, some real good fun, but there were some god-awful times, and a lot of them. Why are you asking, love?”

  “Dad, I want to join the Army and go to military college.”

  Her father didn’t speak for what seemed to Dana like an eternity. She watched his face, his eyes half-closed, his breathing steady but light, his head leant back to touch the high back of the chair.

  “Ma dear Dana,” he spoke at last, quietly, and obviously with feeling. “Dana, if that is what you truly want to do, if that is your choice, if you’re really sure in your heart, then go to it. Ah’m proud of you.” He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.

  Dana reached upward and hugged him. “Thanks, Dad, I love you.”

  “And Ah love you, too.” He reached out and gripped her arm. “Dan, Ah want to tell you I’m really proud of you, the way you’ve come up with this idea for the old brewery, and especially the way you handled that crowd over at the Johnsons’ that night.”

  “Thanks, Dad, thanks a million.”

  Dana was pleased to hear her father’s compliment—he rarely gave them, so to receive one really meant something.

  “Have ye told your mother about your Army plan?”

  “No, not y
et. I wanted to talk to you first.”

  “Thank you, love. Wait to tell your mom till she’s rested and relaxed. Give her an hour or two to unwind from the horrors at school. Ah won’t say a word till ye come and tell me you’ve told her. You know she worries.”

  “Yeah, I know.”

  Dana had gone back to her room after talking with her father. She knew it was too soon to broach the subject with her mother, but it had to be tonight.

  She had lain on her bed, letting her mind find its own direction. It had retraced all the steps that had brought her to this day, and this decision. That rainy day when she and Tony first noticed each other in a new light; the discovery of Bryce and Vince and Peter in the old brewery, drinking; the accident, how it hurt so much in her heart, but how she somehow gained the strength to try to comfort others, as they all came together; the encounter with Jane, as the policewoman, and somehow there seemed to be an indefinable bond between them; that Lucasz Woslewski, who sold the boys the alcohol; the gradual realization that she had the power to do something that could help others avoid the fate of Bryce and Vince; the journey to Kingston; seeing RMC for the first time; the meeting with Mr Hennigan; the support from Mr Simpson; the tension of visiting people’s homes to tell them about her plan for the old brewery; the rally in the Johnsons’ yard; her talks with Graham and Jane; the police patrols; the CFB Petawawa visit; the visits to the Recruiting Office; the tour round RMC last week. It all pointed her to where she was, right there, on her bed, wondering how to open up with her mother.

  She left her room and softly walked into the living room. Her mother was there, as usual, but instead of watching the TV or listening to a CD as she normally spent her unwinding time, Dana saw she was reading a book.

  “Whatcha reading, Mom?”

  Her mother looked up, taken by surprise by the soft-footed Dana. “Oh hi, dear.” She looked down at the book. “I was just starting a book about a woman whose lover has gone off to battle with the Duke of Wellington against Napoleon. It’s a kind of historical romance, I s’pose. I don’t know if there’s much in it, but somebody at school said they’d enjoyed it, so I thought I might as well try it.”

  Dana sat down on the sofa next to her mother.

  “Something bothering you, dear? You’ve spent a lot of time in your room today.”

  Dana knew that her mother had near-psychic powers of detection about things that were bothering her daughter. It was certainly not the first time her mother had known something was up.

  “Mom?” Dana began. “I want to talk with you about something I feel very strongly about.”

  Her mother’s eyes had widened, and her brow was creased, as if to say ‘go on’.

  “Mom, I’ve decided I want to join the Army, and go to RMC at Kingston.”

  Her mother sat stock-still, staring at Dana with those widened eyes, unblinking. Gradually, her expression changed, and her eyes shifted slightly, looking past Dana into the distance. Her features hardened, saddened. At last she turned away, and set her book on the end-table. “I thought you might. You haven’t been exactly secretive about it …”

  “Mo-om!” Dana exclaimed. “I haven’t said a word about it until right now.”

  “But think of what you’ve been doing these past few weeks—yes, I grant you, you’ve been exploring police work with Jane, fine. And you’ve been off to tour some of the businesses in the region, fine too. You’ve been to Petawawa with Graham, nothing wrong in that. You’ve been on a tour of RMC with the school. You’ve been down to the Recruiting Office twice, that I know of.”

  “Come on, Mom, what’s wrong with that? Other girls are doing the same sort of thing, and some of the guys are too.”

  “Yes, but you’ve done far more concerning the Army than any of the others.”

  “But that’s just because I had the chance. Mom, be real. Look, Neil Miller went up to Petawawa a couple of weeks ago; somebody his dad knows took him. Neil was on the trip to RMC. There were about half a dozen from school, and others from other schools. I told you when we got back.”

  Her mother put her hands up in a T, to call a stop. “Dana, dear, I’m not criticizing you. I’m just saying that, even without uttering a word, it was clear to me from your actions, your moods, and so on, that you were most interested in the military option.”

  “Huhnm.” Dana was suddenly deflated. How was it that her mother could see everything, even before she did herself, it seemed? Scary.

  “Look, dear, let’s look at it rationally.”

  I knew it, thought Dana.

  Her mother continued, “If you get accepted into the military, one, if you are accepted into RMC, two, then you will have to learn what real discipline is all about.”

  “I know that, Mom, I know that.”

  Her mother rolled on. “And you will be a girl in a dominantly male organization.”

  “So? Captain Ellis at Petawawa is doing pretty well, and she told me if I work hard, and don’t pull the ‘weak female’ stunt, I could do very well.”

  “You will have to keep up your studies, if you intend to graduate.”

  “Sure, why else would I want to go to RMC, if I didn’t intend to graduate?”

  “I just wanted to make the point. And when you have graduated, you would become an officer; you would have a tough job of work to do, with people under you, and people ranking above you. And that could take you anywhere, into real danger even.”

  “I know that, Mom.” Dana was becoming more than a little rattled now. “That’s the whole point of having an army. Not to play toy soldiers on a parade ground. I want to go places, I want to have the challenge; I want to do something for real, where there are risks involved. That’s why I talked with Jane, and looked at the police option. But that didn’t give me what I think I want. The army does.”

  “Okay,” her mother relaxed, and changed her tone. “Now what would be good about it? You would get a good education academically, and on top of that you would get a military training, discipline training, health, fitness, sports. You would make a good network of friends. You would travel to exciting places, and to some not so exciting. When you left the army, or retired from it, you would have good skills to put you into a good job, if that is what you want.”

  “So you see, Mom, I really do think it is the career for me.”

  “Mmmm. Have you told Tony about this?”

  “No, I haven’t, yet.” Dana looked down at her hands, with their backs together, trapped between her knees. She pulled them out, realizing once again that she did that when she was excited.

  “Don’t you think you should?”

  “Mom, I’m not sure. I’ll tell him, all in good time, okay?”

  Dana knew her mother wouldn’t press after that; she knew she couldn’t tell Tony if their relationship was on muddy ground, as it seemed to be heading. If it got bogged down completely, and fell apart, there’d be no need to tell him. If it was going to struggle out onto solid ground again, she certainly didn’t want to tell him now; it might blow the whole thing apart. And her mother probably knew all that as well, she thought.

  “Dana, dear, it’s your choice, it’s your life. If that is what you want to do, do everything that’s necessary to make sure you get there. And do it well. It wouldn’t have been my choice for you, but it’s not my choice to make. Have you told your father?”

  “Yes, I did after supper.”

  “I thought so; I saw you go down to his den. What did he say?”

  “He said he was proud of me, and told me to go to it.”

  “Yes. You know, Dana, your dad thinks a lot of you, even if he doesn’t say it very often.”

  Dana felt herself blushing.

  “And I do too,” her mother added, leaning forward to hug her. “What you might do is phone your Uncle Alex, and ask him about military college. It’s probably better to leave it for tonight though, it’ll be past eleven o’clock in Halifax now.”

  “Yeah, thanks, Mom. I’ll try calling him to
morrow after supper.”

  “Alex is a good sort. Pity he’s so far away. He’s such a contrast to your father, he’s outgoing, and always fun to be with.”

  “I haven’t seen him since we all went to Halifax that time when I was thirteen. He seemed so much younger than Dad.”

  “Not surprising; he’s ten years younger. There was another brother between them, Andrew, but he died as a young boy. That was while your dad’s family still lived in Scotland.”

  - 22 -

  It was a gala atmosphere, on that April day when the new Centre opened. Noise, bustle, balloons, coloured lights, the sounds of voices young and old, all mingled together in a smorgasbord of excitement.

  Jane was impressed; she knew how much effort had gone into achieving all of this. She felt buoyant, honoured to be part of Dana’s idea, her creation.

  The old brewery building had never seen anything like it, the culmination of countless hours of planning and work. And now it was ready to take on a new role, a new lease on life, a giver of life to the people gathered there that day.

  Most of the residents, adult or child, from the Gardens and the Mews were there, crowded into the main hall, where the big brewers’ tanks had sat a century ago. The sounds lofted upward, high into the upper reaches of the hall to the great oak beams that held the roof, beams that strutted out from the bare brickwork standing firmly above the smooth lower reaches of the walls, now covered in plaster and wallboard.

  At one end, a raised platform held several seats arranged in an arc. In front of them, a microphone on its stand waited. Behind, a bare stone wall framed a square of blue drapes.

  A door at the side of the platform opened, and a man’s face peered out. The crowd fell silent, expectant.

  Dana felt nervous. This was it; this was her dream, her idea, come to fruition. She still found it hard to believe that all the people who had been involved had come together when needed.

  She stood in the hallway, with the rest of the platform party, waiting for Mr Simpson to give the word. She watched as he opened the door. A wave of sound burst through. As he leaned into the open doorway, the sound died; she could feel her heart thumping.

 

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