Bishop's Road (42 page)

They set out in the morning after Ginny Mustard says goodbye to the water, Annie Paul leading in Dr. Kamau's car so they can return it on the way. But when they find the place she left him no one has ever heard tell of the man. “We'd sure remember a black fellow around here wouldn't we now? Why don't you check in Alder Bight just over the road? Maybe that's where he got off.” Annie Paul doesn't believe those layabouts for a minute but won't tell the others so they waste plenty of time searching every town between there and the city.

Once at Ginny Mustard's house, after she has greeted the cats and Harvey who is beside himself with joy to see her, they must devise a plan to put her in place. Annie Paul enlists the help of Nurse Edna who calls the prison and tells them to come and get Ginny Mustard who is waiting for them in the lobby and no, she can't stay any longer since she's fine and they've given her bed to someone else so get over here now before she escapes or some-thing. She digs out the release documents and spills a little cold coffee to smudge the date. Joe Snake runs out to buy paper and coloured pencils since Ginny Mustard feels like drawing again and the captive leaves smiling, with memories of seeds sprouting and speckled fish frying and blue water lapping at her toes - enough for hundreds of pictures - enough to tolerate even Crazy Rachel -enough.

When she has been bundled into the prison van Joe Snake and Annie Paul walk home slowly. “He's gone, you know. Her
father is gone,” says Annie Paul. “Those idiots were lying. They know exactly where he is, dead or alive. Don't ask me how I know that. I really get tired of people asking me how I know things. I could smell evil in that town the first time I was there and it was stronger yesterday.”

“What does evil smell like?”

“Imagine something the flies wouldn't touch. Worse than that.”

“Perhaps we should go back and check it out. At least report him missing. I can call Patrick. He's a cop I know.”

“That's probably a good idea as long as he doesn't ask too many questions. My life has more complications than I care for lately and I'd just as soon get back to some peace and quiet. Are you really planning to come home? I can't imagine you living there. I remember when you were a kid. You never seemed to fit in with the others. Always by yourself. I used to watch you down by the water just staring off into space like you were the only person on earth. Like you had the best secrets.”

Joe Snake laughs. “I have no secrets. But I don't think I was meant to live small. I'm not sure what that means, really. Here I can go about my life with no interference. No one telling me what to do, when to do it. Pure childishness on my part, I suspect. No one ever tried to talk me out of following my dreams. I don't have any. No aspirations. I seem to need to be alone more than some. Here I can go for days without seeing anyone who wants to talk to me about the weather. And if I choose to stay behind closed doors there's no one asking if I'm okay. No one worrying about me. I have no secrets Annie Paul. It's all very simple.”

“So how are you going to cope with small once Virginia's out in the free world? You know she'll want to head back right away.”

“I can spend time there. For her I'll do that. But I'll need to get away often. She'll understand. Well, maybe not understand,
but she doesn't have to understand things to accept them. She's a rare one that way.”

Mr. Benoit and Lucy are awake when they reach the house and sad to have missed Ginny Mustard but they were sound asleep at her arrival and still at it when she left.

“I heard that silly dog barking and thought something was up. Why didn't you tell us she was here?” cries Lucy. “Now I'm all depressed. Can we go somewhere for breakfast to cheer me up?”

“I'm game,” says Annie Paul and they head out, leaving the men to drink coffee and not say much in the backyard.

Judy is ice cold. Her lips are as blue as her eyes used to be and her legs are prickly where she hasn't shaved them for so long but she barely feels the irritation any more. She barely feels any-thing any more. When Frankie finally wakes up he has to shove her to get her out of his way on the little bed, which takes most of his energy and when she comes to he's sleeping again but in a different position than before so she knows for certain that he moved and that she didn't dream he was pushing her around. She pinches his upper arm ever so gently and then his cheek a little harder and he raises his hand to swat her.

“Hello Frankie,” says Judy.

“I could eat a horse,” whispers Frankie in a voice not used to exercise.

“I'm pretty sure they have that here,” says Judy but the cafeteria is closed and the best she can come up with is jelly and a few dry rolls from the tray trolley that hasn't been emptied yet of dinner's leftovers. She brings the feast to Frankie's room. Of course he can't eat, having been without food for so long, and she devours the works. It sits heavy in her stomach.

“I guess I should tell someone that you're awake.” Judy heads to the nurses' station with her news and in two minutes they're all over Frankie, picking and prodding and announcing a miracle and Judy is lost in the shuffle wondering what she is to do now that her cover's been blown. She leaves a note for the doctor telling him to keep an eye on Frankie and not let anyone named Jimmy Snelgrove come visiting since he's the one who beat the crap out of him in the first place and to call the cops and have him arrested. She doesn't sign her name.

When she goes home she tells Joe Snake everything that's going on. She's not disapppointed to hear that Patrick rarely asks after her but her ego smarts a little.

“Well. I think I'd like to get out of town anyway. I'm really hungry, you know. Is there anything to eat?”

Mr. Benoit scrambles eggs and sets them in front of her with some toast but after a bite she has to run to the bathroom and throw up. Her poor tummy can't take it and she settles for a handful of soda crackers.

“You look like hell,” says Annie Paul when she returns with Lucy and is introduced to Judy, hears her tale of woe. “Have you ever lived in a teepee?”

“I thought you'd had enough complications in your life,” says Joe Snake.

“So did I but when the spirit flings things at your feet I think it only best to pick them up. Come on Judy. I know the perfect place to mend. Get your things and meet me in that gorgeous black Mercedes out in the driveway. Joseph, I don't think you should bother your cop friend with word of the good doctor's disappearance. He's gone, for sure, and I think looking for him will only cause more trouble for the living. Leave it be. Can you give me money for gas?”

Nobody thought to tell Ginny Mustard not to mention her adventure in the beautiful country. She's been drawing up a storm. Pictures of a loon and a lake, the moon on the water, a teepee and a native woman staring into a fire. From the little she says her fellow inmates figure she's out of her mind and even young Alice Paine is inclined to go along with the diagnosis. She is pleased that Ginny Mustard is talking to her now and thrilled that she seems so healthy - physically - but believes her patient is heading off the deep end for sure this time and tells the warden so.

“She is completely delusional. She thinks she's been to the country and living in a teepee. She could snap any day, though she certainly seems to be happy with her fantasy.”

“What do you mean snap? So you figure she's dangerous?”

“Well, not exactly dangerous. It's hard to say really.”

“Oh for God's sake! Is she dangerous or not? That seems a simple enough question. Never mind. Go on back to your other lunatics and leave this one to me.” And has Ginny Mustard placed in solitary to keep the peace around here.

In her tiny cell, Ginny Mustard can't hear anything but the guards when they bring her meals. She can't see anything but four walls and a ceiling. The light is false and pale, there is no window. She doesn't have pencils or paper. When Joe Snake comes to visit he's told he can't see her. Neither can he talk to the warden to find out why, though he sits outside her office for a long time until several guards escort him away. The same happens the following week and the one after that. He talks to Alice Paine. She looks too worried to be of any help but she does tell him she's keeping an eye on his wife and that she's okay.

When her water breaks in the middle of the night Ginny Mustard is surprised but doesn't call out. She takes off her clothes
and lies down on the hard cot. When the pain becomes unbearable she walks back and forth. Sometimes she crawls. She massages her belly and feels each rock hard contraction consume her. Between them she laughs. She hears Annie Paul telling her to be a good little Buddhist and eat the pain, the only advice on child-birth she could come up with, not, she said, that she knew any-thing on the topic, and she certainly doesn't think there is any sense in being a Buddhist but they sure know how to deal with suffering. Ginny Mustard laughs again and eats the next contraction and the next one after that, on into the night. When the time comes to push she does with all her might - squatting on the cold floor - and with strong arms brings her baby to her belly, lies down and the afterbirth comes and she stares in wonder as the tiny creature crawls to her breast and suckles.

That's how the guards find her at breakfast time. Nursing a bloody little baby with afterbirth all over herself and Sweet Polly still attached. And now Ginny Mustard is back in the hospital and Nurse Edna is holding “the most beautiful creature I have ever seen in my life” clean and shining and ready to live again. If anyone were to walk by Eve's grave right now the peace emanating from its depths would drive him to his knees.

“She's early according to the doctor, but they don't know everything. Some babies are just in a hurry. And she's a real good weight. And long. I was right. She's going to be a tall one.”

Nurse Edna hands the baby back to Ginny Mustard who immediately removes the little one's clothes and examines her head to toe. She's not looking for anything in particular, just doing what every new mother does if no one stops her. She stares into dark eyes, blue black eyes. “She has blue eyes,” she remarks to no one and Nurse Edna tells her they'll change later on. Most likely be very brown. “Her hair is black. The other kids won't call her Mustard.”

“No,” says Nurse Edna. “But I'm sure they'll come up
with something else. Kids always do, you know.”

“She's pretty.”

“And that she is, dear. Prettiest thing I ever laid eyes on,” says Nurse Edna, wondering what's to become of the sweet baby when her mother is hauled off to jail again.

Joe Snake has been here already. He held his daughter as though he knew what he was doing. Stared into her small face for the longest time before a nurse took her away for more of a check-up. He sat with his wife. Held her hand. Smiled. Only when Ginny Mustard said he should tell his mom and dad, did he leave to make a few phone calls. “And Annie Paul. Tell Annie Paul what a nice baby we have.”