Amazing Grace (22 page)

“Don't panic. You should call an ambulance.”

I immediately call 911 and unlock the side door and turn on the outdoor light. Then quickly to the bathroom to get a baby aspirin, which I put under Fletcher's tongue. “It's okay. They'll be here soon. Just stay calm, I'm here with you.”

“Shouldn't have had a second helping of plum pudding,” he whispers.

“You're going to be fine. I won't let you die.

“Good.”

Fletch is wheeled into surgery and, thanks to the stars in the sky and the wind on my hill, he makes it. He's in the hospital for a couple of weeks after his quadruple bypass surgery and he's given a stern lecture to lose a lot of weight. I assure the doctors that I will take care of it.

“You're going to be the healthiest man in Cape Breton,” I tell him.

“Not sure I like the sounds of that,” he frowns.

“You'll do as you're told.”

He smiles. “Bossy.”

The day Fletch comes home, who comes roaring up the driveway but Dora Trimm. It's like she has some weird telepathy that tells her Fletcher is within range. She's carrying two armfuls of baked goods. I throw on my jacket and go out the door into the cold, my arm held out in front of me.

“No, Dora. Fletcher is on a diet and he won't be needing any of your baking from now on.”

Her face falls. “A little isn't going to hurt him. The poor man needs a treat now and again.”

“Fletcher needs to lose weight. We almost lost him, no thanks to me or you.”

“You're blaming me? I cook for Harvey, and he hasn't had a heart attack.”

“Consider yourself lucky.”

“Then I'll make low-calorie desserts. Do you have a problem with that?”

I reach over, grab her tins, and fling them into the snow. They burst open and shower the dogs with cookies, much to their amazement.

Now I have my finger in her face. “You need psychological help with your obsession over Fletcher. He doesn't love you, Dora. He's your friend, nothing more. And guess what? You're married! Go home and love your husband and leave this poor man alone.”

She bursts into tears.

Honest to god.

So I bring her into the house and make her a cup of tea. Thankfully Fletcher is in his bedroom. The only snack I have is Melba toast and peanut butter, but she gobbles them up as she sips her tea.

“Fletcher was always nice to me in school and not many kids were.”

“Why's that?”

“My nickname was Dumb Dora. I have dyslexia, you see. Back then people just called you stupid, but Fletcher never did. And he listens to me. Fletcher always seems interested in what I have to say. The only thing Harvey ever does is talk about fishing. Who can have a decent conversation when it's always about mackerel?”

“Look, Dora, I apologize for throwing your baking in the snow. I know you have a generous heart, but Fletch gave me a fright, and I have to do everything I can to protect him. Do you understand?”

She nods sadly.

“Perhaps you can find some low-calorie recipes I might try after all. That would be helpful.”

Dora looks a little brighter. “Okay. I'll bring some over.”

“Would you mind calling first? Fletcher needs his rest. When he's ready for company I'll let you know.”

I help pick up the now empty tins and she's on her way. My dogs come inside, sit in front of the fire, and fart all afternoon. Must have been those oatmeal raisin cookies.

A few weeks after Fletcher comes home, winter arrives with a vengeance. We listen to the howling of a nor'easter battering the trailer. Sometimes the wind literally screams as it rushes down the hill. When I take a peek out the kitchen door, all I can see is blowing snow so thick it looks like we're being splashed by an ocean's surf. I worry about all the feral cats around the neighbourhood and in town. I've started a program whereby the church ladies and I are raising funds to build cat shelters. Only Delima refuses to participate.

“We used to drown kittens when I was a kid,” she says matter-of-factly at a church meeting.

“And that is why I will hate you forever, Delima.”

She gives me a filthy look. “You have a screw loose!”

Fletcher frets about me bringing wood in for the fire, and doesn't want me to run the truck with the snowplow attachment to clear the yard. He gets a friend to come up and do it, which annoys me.

“I'm perfectly capable of driving a truck back and forth.”

“I don't want you out on that slippery snow more than you have to be. If you break a hip, we're done for.”

I pour him tea with lemon.

“I hate tea with lemon.”

“Tough.”

The next day, I get an email from a social services office in Toronto. I had written to them asking if they had any records for a Trixie and Ave Maria Fairchild. I'm trying to reach every city and town in Ontario and cross them off the list. It's a lot of work, but there's nothing else to do on these dark winter nights.

Dear Mrs. Willingdon,

I'm afraid there is no
record at all for a Trixie Fairchild in our jurisdiction, but I did come across an A. Maria Fairchild who used our bereavement services a few years ago. I've enclosed an address and phone number. I do hope this is helpful to you.

Sincerely,

Bernice Brown

I literally run to the phone with the number and call long distance.

“Hello?”

“Yes, is this A. Maria Fairchild?”

“Yes.”

“Oh my god.”

“Who is this?”

“I'm sorry. My name is Amazing Grace Fairchild! Does that name ring a bell?”

“No.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I'm sure.”

“Is your name Ave Maria Fairchild?”

“No. It's Anna Maria, but people call me Maria.”

“Oh. I'm sorry I bothered you.”

“What's this about?”

“Nothing. It doesn't matter. Thank you anyway.”

I hang up and run to my room. I don't even answer when Fletch asks me what's wrong.

Lying on the bed snivelling is not something I do often, but for some reason, hearing that woman's voice made this more personal. If only she were my sister and not some stranger on the other end of the phone. What would that be like? I'm not sure I have the stamina to keep this up forever. I'm so weary of always being disappointed.

There's a quiet knock on my door. “You okay?”

“Come in.”

Fletcher comes in and sits on my bed. So do all the other critters in this place, except for Beulah, who's keeping Nan company tonight.

“It's not Jon or Melissa, is it?”

“No, they're fine.” I fill him in.

Fletch stays quiet for a long time. It's very comforting to sit like this and not have to go over it in detail.

He eventually takes my hand. “Grace, ever since my heart attack, I've been doing a lot of thinking.”

“That's a first.” I smile.

“Now, I want you to hear me out. We are getting to an age where anything can happen to either of us. We need to make plans.”

“Plans?”

“Don't laugh! Promise?”

“Fine! What?”

“I want to marry you.”

“Hell's bells! Are you crazy?”

Fletch gets off the bed and starts to pace. The room is only big enough for him to take three steps before he has to turn around. “If something happens to me, I want you protected. I want you to have this trailer, and my business, which you can sell to the highest bidder once I'm in my grave. We need to make things legal in case one of us falls into a coma and only family members have the authority to pull the plug. That kind of thing.”

“But—”

“We love each other, Grace. We're a family and we're best friends. How we conduct ourselves in our own home is our business. We belong together, but we need to make it legal so neither one of us has an issue about anything in the future. What do you think?”

I look at him. “I think you are the best man I've ever met, and I love you very, very much. I would love to be your wife. You're right. We need to protect each other.”

I jump off the bed and into a big bear hug. We hold each other for a long time.

“Oh god! I just thought of something!” I shout.

“What?”

“How are we going to tell Dora?”

Fletch and I get married in the local courthouse on Valentine's Day, as a private joke. Nan and Beulah are our witnesses. Then we go home and have salmon and spinach salad for supper, with low-fat pudding and a tablespoon of lite Cool Whip for dessert.

Once Fletcher drives Nan home and takes our Beulah with her (I miss that dog!), I'm as jumpy as a flea on a hot coal.

This is my wedding night! To a man I won't be sleeping with! What is the protocol for a situation like this? I did buy a new flannel nightgown instead of my usual flannel pyjamas, but it's not like he's going to see it unless I go to the fridge for a glass of milk.

“Your hubby is home!” Fletcher sings as he comes through the door. “What do we do now?”

“I'll do my crossword in the living room with you instead of the kitchen.”

“Perfect.”

We spend a pleasant couple of hours. Then it's time for bed. We go through our ritual.

“Should we try sleeping together?” I ask him.

“You mean…”

“I mean me sleeping in your bed or you sleeping in mine. Nothing else.”

“I suppose we could.”

When I head to Fletcher's room, the animals actually seem miffed.

We go to bed. “Good night, wife.”

“Good night, husband.”

We even kiss good night and settle in.

“Can I close the window a tad?” I ask. “It's cold in here.”

“Really? Okay.”

So I get out of bed and close the window. Then back into bed.

“Stop taking all the blankets,” he says.

“I'm not taking all the blankets.”

“How many pillows do you have against my back?

“Only two.”

“But I have no room.”

“Your feet are like blocks of ice!”

We both sit up and I get out of his bed. “I'll see you in the morning, husband.”

“Okay, wife. Would you open the window on your way out?”

CHAPTER TWENTY

It's summer, and Fletcher has lost seventy pounds. I've lost ten, which means I look like a scarecrow, but Fletch looks mighty fine. We walk every morning and again in the evening after supper. He's only allowed to sit in his recliner if he walks.

The phone rings one hot July afternoon.

“Hi, Gee!”

“Melissa! How are you, dear?”

“Really good. Can I come for a visit and bring my friend Juniper?”

“Jupiter?”

“Juniper! Like the tree. We call her Juni.”

“Some parents should be shot.”

Melissa giggles. “You sound like Aunt Pearl again.”

I do, too. “When are you coming?”

“Now? Can we stay for the summer?”

“You can stay forever but you'll have to help me get the house ready.”

“No problem! Yay!”

“Is your dad around?”

“Yeah…DAD!”

What is it with kids? They scream right in your ear.

“Mom?”

“Hi, Jon. Is this okay with you and Deanne?”

“Sure, if it's not too much trouble. I don't want them to be a burden if Fletcher is still on the mend.”

“No, he's never been better. I'd love to have them.”

“Juni's a great kid, a complete nerd. You'll like her.”

“How are things with you?”

“Getting better. The new job is great and so is the house.”

He hadn't been able to afford to buy Aaron's house back, so he'd moved to a small townhouse. Just as well. There were a lot of memories in the old place, though Jonathan says they are mostly good.

“I'm glad. Has your grandfather eased up on you?”

“He's stymied because I don't react. He held sway over business leaders long ago, but this is a new world and his reputation for being difficult is catching up with him. As a matter of fact, he might be in trouble over fraud issues. It could get nasty.”

“Nothing more than he deserves.”

“He doesn't concern me anymore, but I do have some news. I have a girlfriend.”

“Wonderful. I'm happy for you.”

“Her name is Whitney and she's a pharmacist. Deanne introduced us, if you can believe it. They work at the same hospital.”

“I'm as happy as a pig in shit.”

He laughs.

The girls are mad about the farmhouse. Juni jumps out of the car and twirls around in delight. I'm afraid she'll fall and hurt herself, she's so tall and slight. She reminds me of a daddy-longlegs. Her hair is shaved on one side and down to her shoulder on the other, and I have to say it suits her.

Now she's clasping her hands. “It's just like Anne of Green Gables! I didn't know houses like this even existed anymore! You were right, Missy! It's glorious!”

“Wait till I show you the beach.”

The two of them take off and I'm the sucker taking in their luggage. But they do more than enough work when they get back, helping me clean and organize the place. Now the windows can be open, and Melissa takes great delight in shaking mats out of them. I show Juni how to hang clothes on the clothesline and you'd think I'd given her a gift. “Thank you! I've always wanted to do this.”

That night we have a small bonfire on the beach. We huddle under blankets and look at the stars through the sparks.

“Didn't I tell you, Juni? Can you believe it?”

“It's…heavenly.”

“Girls, whenever life seems overwhelming, remember to look up at the stars at night and know that your worries amount to nothing in the face of such wonder.”

“Wait until I tell my dad!” Juni says. “He'll freak!”

We toast marshmallows until our hands are sticky, and then burn our fingertips taking hot dogs out of the embers and off our branches. Juni hasn't stopped smiling. “Mrs. Willingdon, do you think I could come back here again, sometime in my life?”

“You better.”

We put the fire out, gather up our things, and head for home. We take turns sharing the bathroom while we get ready for bed and then say good night. Just as I crawl into Aunt Pearl's bed, there's a small knock at the door and Melissa opens it slightly.

“Come in.”

She tiptoes over and sits on the edge of the bed. “Thank you for letting Juni come here. She really needs it. Her parents are going through a divorce and she's been very sad. I knew this place would cheer her up.”

I reach out and take a curl of her hair. “What a lovely friend you are. Are things better now?”

“Oh, yes. Dad's new place is really nice and homey.”

“Did Linn go with him?”

“Yes. She likes it better there too, because she's closer to the ground.”

“I know what she means. And your new school?”

“It's school, but the kids are nicer. Juni is my best friend. We just get each other.”

“And boyfriends?”

“I'm not interested. They're all jerks.”

“They are jerks, until you find the one that isn't.”

“Fletcher looks great, by the way.”

“Doesn't he? I'm so proud of him. I'll let you in on a little secret. We got married.”

She jumps up with a yelp. “What? Without me?”

“Sorry, I didn't know you'd want to be there.”

“Of course I would!”

“Jeepers. Calm down.”

“Let's have another ceremony right here! Right now, while Juni and I are visiting. We can be your bridesmaids! Please! Please say yes!”

I laugh at her. “Don't be crazy.”

“You can get married in the field! And we'll make you breakfast. Come on, Gee! You're always saying we're such a little family. We need to be with each other for things like this. It's once in a lifetime!”

“Gotta ask Fletcher.”

“He'll say yes. He loves you.”

I can't believe that Fletcher does say yes. So now we've been hijacked by two teenage girls. They've already decided that Beulah will be the ring bearer and I need a dress.

“I don't wear dresses.”

“Gee! If you don't wear a dress you're depriving Fletcher of his dream come true.”

If only she knew he couldn't care less.

“Think about it! Besides, Fletcher already told me he's buying a suit.”

“A suit! What a waste of money. When will he ever wear that again?”

Melissa folds her arms. “At my wedding.”

“And mine,” Juni says.

So off we go to Sydney to look for a dress. They give me an anxiety attack showing me all the choices there are. “How am I supposed to pick? This is a nightmare.”

“We'll choose.” They stuff me in a dressing room and shortly afterward start flinging garments over the door. Is there anything worse than being in front of a mirror trying on clothes?

“I look ridiculous!”

“Show us.”

I open the door and make a face. The front of the dress is baggy where my breasts should be.

“Hmm. Can you wear fake boobs?”

“Nah, I'd be fiddling with them all day.”

In the end they choose a very simple sleeveless silver dress, to go with my silver hair. I have to admit, I like it. They pick the shoes and a delicate shawl that I can wrap around my shoulders if it gets cool.

But we don't spend all our time on wedding plans. Most mornings the three of us take the canoe out on the lake just after sunrise. The water is like a pool, with a thick, almost velvet look. I tell them to stay quiet and listen to the cries of the loons, which they do up to a point, but they are girls and their gums start flapping before too long.

Then we go in for a swim and afterwards the two of them bask in the sun on the shore while I read under my floppy hat.

Every day I am grateful that this is my life. My granddaughter and her friend make me feel like a mom, but I'm not going to waste these golden moments thinking about what I missed with Jonathan. I'm looking forward now, not backward.

We go up to visit Fletcher, hard at work in his garage.

“Well, hello ladies. Having fun at Camp Gee?”

“It's the best place in the world,” Juni says. “Is the whole island like this?”

“Why don't we find out?” he says.

The next day the four of us go on a road trip. Nan babysits Beulah and Harvey and Dora look after our other critters, despite Dora's upset over our nuptials.

We take the girls over the Cabot Trail. One afternoon we go on a whale tour, watching humpback, minke, and pilot whales cavort in the water. Another boat tour takes us to Bird Island, which has a large population of puffins, with eagles watching as we pass. I can't count how many pictures Juni has taken, but her phone is likely to blow up before much longer.

I've never enjoyed Cape Breton more than I do now, seeing it through her eyes.

We're having a picnic in Cheticamp when I go to the car to get my sweater. As I walk back to the picnic table, I see the three of them in a huddle, obviously making plans, no doubt about the wedding. The last thing I want is a production. But then I think, what the hell? I've had an entire lifetime of not being celebrated. Get out of the way, Amazing, and let this happen.

The girls will tell me nothing about the ceremony. Neither will Fletcher.

“Just show up,” he says.

“I live there. I have no choice but to show up.”

“About that,” he says. “I'm spending the night before at the farm and we want you to stay in the trailer. It's the girls' idea of romance. Just be at the farmhouse at ten in the morning. Everything is taken care of.”

“Are you sure—”

“Zip it. For once you're going to do as you're told.”

“The girls—”

“SHHH.”

The day of our second wedding, I get up before dawn and take the dogs out for a walk on my hill. There are large grey billowy clouds gathering in the east. Uh-oh. They do say rain is good luck, but what do they say about standing in a field under a big tree? We'll be very well-dressed lightning rods.

My morning routine is the same as usual, until someone knocks at the kitchen door.

“Come on in.”

It's Joan, our local travelling hairdresser.

“What are you doing here?”

“I have instructions to make you look divine.”

“But I don't need—”

“I also have instructions to tell you to keep quiet.”

“But how—”

“Just sit.”

She proceeds to take out her hair salon on wheels. Joan makes a good living catering to women who might not be able to get to a hairdresser's on their own. Nan is a great customer. Joan also caters to the ladies at the old folks' home. Her skills may be middling, but her manner has cheered up more old souls than I can count, and that is priceless.

Joan washes my hair in the kitchen sink.

“I just washed it in the shower.”

“Don't care. It's a process.”

She wrings out my scraggly mop and nearly takes the forehead off me. “Ow!”

“Stop being a baby.”

Now she sits me down, takes a towel, and goes at my scalp with the same intensity I use when drying the dogs after we're caught in the rain.

She leaves the towel over my head and walks away.

“Is this part of the beauty regimen?

“Can't find my hair dryer.” I hear her rattle through her bags.

“I have one.”

“No, no. I'll only be a second.”

Eventually she whips off the towel, then takes her thumb and holds it to my scalp while she yanks a comb thorough my tangled hair.

“Ow! Do you do this to all your old ladies?”

“They love it. Most of them haven't been touched for weeks.”

Despite her technique, my hair does look very nice once she pulls a straightener through it.

Finally I get rid of Joan and put on my dress. I do a couple of twirls in the mirror. I even dab on a little blush, mascara, and lipstick that Melissa left for me.

Donald and Daffy and Tom and Jerry tell me I'm beautiful. “We'll be back soon!” I tell them.

I'm about to get in my car when who comes up the driveway but Bruce Samuels. It looks like he's washed his truck. He gets out and waves me over, still spry in his eighties.

“You look mighty fine, Grace. I'm your chauffeur. We gotta get a move on.”

Away I go in Bruce's truck, bouncing over the potholes to Marble Mountain. When we get to the laneway I ask him to stop and let me out.

“Ya sure?”

“Yes, please. I want to walk under the trees.”

“Okey-doke. I'll tell them you're coming.”

The truck disappears down the lane and I close my eyes. Take a deep breath, Grace, and enjoy this moment.

As I walk along under the curved branches of the silver birch, poplar, and maple trees, I think of my great-aunts. My fingers touch Aunt Pearl's pearl necklace. What would've happened to me without those two fine ladies? How I wish they could be here.

The farmhouse comes into view. There must be twenty cars parked all over the lawn.

“Jumpin'… Who have they invited?”

There are pots of geraniums on the porch and silver balloons in bunches tied to the rails. Melissa and Juni run out the front door and over to me, giving me great hugs. They look lovely, both of them in summery dresses.

“When did you get these?”

“Fletcher bought them for us. I told him not to, but he insisted. Now come with us. You have to do what we say.”

They pull me by the hands into the living room and yell, “Ta-da!”

Jonathan smiles at me. “Hi, Mom.”

I cover my face and tears fall. He comes and hugs me. “Now stop it. I'm here to celebrate with you, not watch you blubber.”

“Yeah, Gee! Your mascara will run.”

Jonathan passes me a handkerchief and I dab my eyes. “Thank you for coming. I can't believe it. Does Fletcher know?”

“Of course he knows. We had quite a party here last night.”

“And I missed it! Thanks a lot.”

He laughs. “We did feel kind of guilty about it.”