Amazing Grace (29 page)

“Who's to say what would've happened? My Aunt Pearl called Trixie a hippy-dippy.”

“An irresponsible hippy-dippy.”

“She had her good qualities.”

Trixie looks at me. “Sorry. I shouldn't talk about your mother like that.”

“All of us think our mothers have to be perfect, better than anyone else. It's too bad we don't see them as people until we grow up ourselves.”

“The ones who get off the hook are the fathers.”

“Do you know who your father is, Trixie? Have you ever thought about trying to find him?”

“No, thank you. I have all the men I want in my life.”

Fletcher has supper waiting for us when we get back. We spend a nice evening in front of the fire, and in the morning Trixie starts her long journey home. Before she gets in the car, she turns to me.

“You're the best. Thank you for seeking me out and not taking no for an answer.”

“Sometimes being stubborn comes in handy.”

Later that night she calls us to tell us she made it home safely. Fletch and I retreat to our chairs and watch a little television, Beulah on Fletcher's lap and Tom and Jerry on mine. The wind is blowing a gale outside, but it's warm and cozy in here.

It doesn't take much to make a person happy.

Aaron James Willingdon is born on the first of May and is a healthy eight pounds.

Personally I think all babies are pretty hideous at first, but it's amazing how you ignore the misshapen head, stork bites, and rashes when it's your own flesh and blood. All we see is blond fuzz, a button nose, and the most beautifully shaped lips.

I resist the temptation to immediately fly to New York. The new parents need this time to themselves, and I can look at all the Instagram photos his father is posting. Melissa calls me in tears.

“You should see how perfect he is! I honestly see a resemblance between Ryder and Aaron. Oh gosh, they are going to be such good pals. It almost makes me want to have a baby of my own.”

“Really?”

“Of course not! But he's so cute!”

After six weeks I can't stand it and quickly pop down to New York. Aaron is beyond adorable at this point. His mom seems to be a natural, and Jonathan is an old pro. Holding Aaron in my arms is like Christmas morning, pure delight. He always falls asleep when I have him, so I'm allowed to hold him quite a bit. He and I rock together and I sing songs from The Sound of Music.

I only stay for four days, which probably feels like four weeks to Whitney, but she's a good sport. I make sure I run over to Deanne's and make a fuss of Ryder too. Deanne tells me she's pregnant again.

“How old are you?”

“Too old for a two-year-old and a newborn, that's for sure.”

“Doesn't matter. It's marvellous news. Make sure you look after yourself.”

“I hope it's another boy. I can't imagine trying to raise another teenage daughter in my late fifties.”

“Good luck, my dear. You're going to need it.”

Before we know it, it's summer once more and the New Brunswick gang comes for two weeks to stay at the farmhouse. Melissa and Juni show up for a week and they stay in the trailer, though we spend most days down on the shore. I make big picnics and on really hot days Fletcher joins us in the water.

Nate and Juni are still smitten with each other, but I pretend I don't notice. Nothing ruins a romance faster than an adult catching wind of it. But Trixie sidles up to me one afternoon to whisper in my ear. “I hope she doesn't break his heart.”

“She might. It's called life.”

Nate is enamoured with Fletcher's garage and can't believe his good fortune when we let him drive the Pontiac a couple of times. He follows Fletcher around when he's not teasing Juni.

Sunni loves to splash in the water. Is there anything sweeter than a little one at the beach? Of course, we're not the ones running after her. Her poor parents don't get much rest.

It's such a pleasure to see Trixie relax. She actually looks years younger than when I first met her.

As for me, I've never been more content. It's like my whole life has been leading up to this moment.

Which is why I'm pissed off that my cancer's back.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

I think.

I'm telling no one until I have some tests, and maybe not even then.

My first clue is how tired I am coming back from meeting my grandson, Aaron. I did nothing the entire time I was there, but when I get on the plane to come home, a great exhaustion falls over me. I put it down to travelling, but when I don't feel up to volunteering for the Red Cross, I get an uneasy feeling.

Fletcher shrugs. “So what if you want a year off? You run around for them every year. Time for new blood to take over.”

I still try to help out in the church hall, but I have an accident while making dinner for the community play. I pick up a large pot of cooked potatoes and can't quite get it to the sink. Lucky for me the water splashes in the other direction and no one else is in the immediate vicinity.

Delima's beside herself. “What do we do now? Supper's almost ready!”

Gladys to the rescue. “There's a huge box of Minute Rice here. We'll have that.” She starts pouring the rice into another large pot.

“We can't have rice! We've never had rice!”

“There's always a first time.”

Everyone says the rice is a nice change.

It's a beautiful September and Fletcher suggests we take a trip around the trail. “Maybe we can spend another night at the Keltic Lodge.”

It takes everything I have to agree that it's a great idea.

When you're in your own routine, you can get away with being quiet. Fletcher spends most of his day in the garage, so he's not with me, but here in the car is another matter.

“You're not saying much. Not having a good time?”

I pat his knee. “I always have a good time with you. I think I'm just missing everyone. It's been such an incredible year, but with Nan gone, it feels lonesome.”

“I know what you mean. The other day I heard some gossip and I started over to the trailer because I knew she'd love it and had to stop halfway there.”

“What was the gossip?”

“That Harvey and Dora might be getting a divorce.”

My mouth drops open. “And you didn't tell me?”

“I forgot about it after that.”

This news shocks me. “She put up with him for forty-five years and now she decides life would be better without him? Wow.”

“You get older, you realize your time is limited.”

Makes sense to me.

When we get home I invite Dora up for lunch. Might as well hear it from the horse's mouth.

“Is it true?”

Dora shoves a sandwich in her mouth. “Yes and no,” she mumbles.

“Explain yourself.”

“I told Delima and Janet Pickup that I was thinking of getting a divorce. Naturally, it made the rounds of the village and got back to Harvey.”

“What did he say?”

“‘Wanna go to Paris?'”

“You sly dog!” We high-five each other. “When are you going?”

“In a few weeks. Can you guys look after the critters?”

“Of course! It will be nice to pay you back for all the free babysitting.”

I go down to take their two rotund labs out in the morning, because I find I'm too weary to deal with them in the evening. Fletcher brings them up after supper and takes all the dogs out for a walk on the hill. The first time I don't join him, he gives me a funny look. I pretend I'm busy.

But after a while I can't ignore the pain in my hip and go to my doctor for tests. “Don't tell Fletcher.”

“I can't tell him, but you should.”

“Wait until we know.”

The phone rings a couple of days later and the doctor wants to see me. Nothing good ever comes from this. I really want Fletcher with me, but I can't face it if he's with me, so I go alone. He thinks I'm shopping for a couple of new outfits. Men are so gullible.

I wait for my death sentence in his office. He comes in and sits down with a resigned air. I guess it's true that body language accounts for most of our communication.

“Well?”

“It's back.”

“How long have I got?”

“I'm not answering that question. I've had people live for years when I thought they'd be dead in months. You don't want to put a thought in your head that will take root. You had great luck with chemo the last time. I think that's the course of action again.”

“No. I'm not wasting the rest of my life feeling like shit.” I stand up. “Gotta go.”

“Grace…”

“Thank you, Doctor. Don't call the house.”

The hospital hallway is endless. I'm walking but I never get to the front door. I'm in a deep well and just need to make it to the top so I can breathe.

It takes me forever to get to the Pontiac in the parking lot. It's like a mirage in the desert that keeps fading in and out. When I finally open the door and get in, I feel embraced by my wonderful aunts. They comfort me as I cry. I hoped the doctor would say I had arthritis and my red blood cells were low. Anything but this.

Right now, deep inside, I'm still nine-year-old Amazing Grace, but when I look in the rear-view mirror, an older woman looks back at me. When did that happen? All my days of fighting took a toll.

I have no business driving the car and should call Fletcher to come and get me, but I feel like I need to get home on my own.

As I drive home I decide I'm going to tell Fletcher right away, but I don't have to. When I pull into the driveway he's sitting on the patio in his grandmother's rocker. He stands up when I get out of the car and we look at each other.

He knows.

I put my face in my hands, and the next moment he has me in his arms. Then he picks me up as if he's carrying me over the threshold and takes me into the house. He sits in his recliner with me in his lap and strokes my hair gently.

“It's all right. I'm here.”

“I'm sorry, Fletcher. I'm so sorry.”

“Hush now. We can do this. You did it before and you'll do it again.”

“I'm not going to go through that again. I want to be present while I'm here.”

He doesn't say anything.

“Is that bad?'

“Hell yes, it's bad! Are your seriously going to tell me that you refuse to fight for yourself, when you have everything to live for? We have a family now! A great group of crazy people who want to be with us, who want us in their lives. And you're going to disappoint them by giving up? That's not the Grace I know, and it's not the Grace they know. So you're going to pick yourself up and face this with as much determination as you did the last time. You've got this! For god's sake, you're a grandmother
to Aaron, and like a grandmother to Ryder, Sunni, and Finn!”

“Who's Finn?”

“Oh yeah, Andre called. Deanne had a little boy this morning.”

“Wonderful.”

“They need you hollering at them on the beach next summer. Now, I made some chicken soup. Would you like some?”

“Yes.”

He takes me by the hand and we have supper together. The dogs and cats watch us as we eat.

You take all this for granted. You do it every day of your life, eating with your loved ones around you, but you hardly ever stop to think about what a gift it is. How fortunate we are to have this quiet time at the end of the day.

Life is in the ordinary moments. And I want a few billion more.

Fletch is right. I've got this. I start my chemo immediately, much to the doctor's relief, but I still don't tell my family.

About a month into treatment, Trixie calls to say she might come down for the weekend. Without thinking, I say, “Sorry, I'm busy with chemo this weekend.”

“Fucking hell!” she yells. “Just fucking, fucking hell!”

She slams the phone down.

I love her.

I call her back and she lets it ring about six times before she picks up and gives me shit. “How dare you make me love you? How dare you not be here for me and my boys? You are a selfish bitch and I hate you right now!”

I can't stop laughing. She begins to chuckle too and soon we're gasping for air.

“Stop laughing, Grace! It's not funny. Why didn't you tell us?”

“Why should I? You'd only worry. Now I beg you, do not tell the others. I don't want anyone fretting, because I'm beating this bastard again.”

“Oh, I have no doubt you'll beat it. All you have to do is give the big C one of your almighty pissed-off looks and it'll shrivel like a pecker in ice-cold water.”

“I'm so glad I can talk to you. This makes things a thousand times easier.”

There's silence on the end of the phone. I think I hear sniffling.

“Sorry, Trixie. I didn't mean to burden you with this.”

“It's okay,” she says quietly. “I'm just not ready to have the boogeyman put you in the bog.”

“What?”

“It's something my mother always said when she'd threaten me with something. ‘You don't want the boogeyman to put you in the bog.' What a stupid thing to say to a kid. It scared the crap out of me.”

“Oh my god.” I'm lightheaded. I can hear someone moaning, but I don't know it's me.

Trixie yells into the phone. “What's wrong, Grace? What's wrong?”

“The boogeyman killed my mother and put her in the bog.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

“Who killed your mother?”

“That's why I was never able to find her! Maria must have seen him do it and run for her life. They didn't leave me behind, they didn't forget me! Ed Wheeler told everyone that Maria ran away and Mom went after her and they believed him. That's why your mother was so messed up. Who wouldn't drink if they saw their mother being murdered?”

“Who's Ed Wheeler?”

“The man, the man I told you about, the man who raped me and my mother and your mother. Someone who managed to destroy a whole family with his disgusting depravity. I'm going to kill him. Do you hear me? I'm going to kill him!”

“Grace, stop it! He's probably dead now anyway. You're using up precious energy. I'm going to hang up and I want you to tell Fletcher. He'll know what to do. I'll call you later tonight. I have to go.”

She hangs up and I understand why. She has her own guilt and sorrow to deal with.

I don't seek out Fletcher because I can't get off the chair. My mind whirls as all the little signs drift into place like fresh snow. Mom went out to find money and food. Ed somehow suspected what she was doing and dragged her out to the bog to confront her. Maria went looking for Mom, and must have eventually run to the bog to check.

How did Ed kill Mom? Did he strangle her? She always had red marks on her neck. Or maybe he held her head down and drowned her, then slowly watched her disappear into the muddy water and sink to the bottom of the muck.

Maria had to run away. If she'd come back for me, he might have killed us both. She protected me by leaving. But how does a twelve-year-old with no money make her way in the world? The only scenario that comes to my mind is horrific. If she was in foster care, there would be records, and I was never able to find any. She obviously didn't go to the police—or did she? Maybe no one believed her. We'll never know what she endured.

When Fletch comes in for supper, I spill the whole story. His shock is as drastic as mine. All he keeps saying is “What? What?” Like he can't comprehend what I'm saying, and who could? Things like this don't happen to people you know. The big bad world always happens to other people. I should know better.

“What should we do?” he says.

“I am going to finish my chemo before I do anything, because I have a fight on my hands, and I need to be strong. You say I have a lot to live for? You bet your bottom dollar I do. I'm going to find my mother's body and bring her home. And then I'm going to find Ed Wheeler.”

“Grace—”

“If this man is still alive, I want to see his face when I tell him I know what he did to my mother. He thinks he got away with this. Well, I'm about to burst his stinking bubble.”

“Grace, please. I don't want you to burn out.”

“I'm burning up. And that's a good thing. I'm too busy to have fucking cancer.”

I complete my round of chemo like I said I would. So far it seems to be working, but that's almost the furthest thing from my mind these days. I've reprogrammed my brain not to wallow in self-pity. Lots of people get cancer and lots of people are cured. I'm going to be one of them.

The family still doesn't know about the cancer, but I tell them how I'm meditating now, and going to yoga class. I'm also swimming to build up my strength and Fletcher and I and the critters still walk every day. Yesterday I even made it to the top of my hill.

Dora bought me a juicer and spent a whole week showing me how to use it. I've never had so much green goop in my life. Fletch and I have bought a dehydrater, too, to dry fruits and vegetables.

I know I still have to wait for the test results, but I'm confident that the things I'm doing are helping me beat this. It's time to tell Jonathan my plans.

Jonathan meets Fletch and I in a hotel in Guelph, a far cry from the crappy motel I stayed in the last time I came looking for my family. The farm is only twenty minutes away. We sit with our morning coffee in the dining room of the hotel.

“Mom, you look like you've lost weight. Are you sure you're no overdoing this diet business?”

“My appetite hasn't been great since I found out about this. It's only temporary. I'll feel much better soon.”

“Look, Mom, I understand that your suspicions may very well be true, but what if you're wrong?”

“I have to know one way or another. If the police find my mother's body in the bog, then I can finally put her to rest.”

Fletcher takes a sip of coffee. “Do you think the police will investigate? Or even take you seriously?”

“There are case files on me floating around Guelph, Brampton, Kitchener, and Waterloo that say I was raped. They wanted me to testify. There's also a social worker's files on the children who went into foster care after the fire. On top of that I can always get in touch with Helen and she can verify that Ed Wheeler did indeed abuse us and that he was in charge there.”

Jonathan nods. “We can always hire a Canadian detective to look into all this.”

Fletch laughs. “I think you're looking at her.”

No time like the present. We drive right to the police station, where we ask to speak to the police chief. He eventually shows up and introduces himself as Chief Doug Howard and asks us to
come into his office. It takes me about half an hour to explain the situation. He doesn't do much talking, but he does seem to be listening.

“So this would've been when?”

“When I was nine years old, in 1962. That's when they disappeared. The fire wasn't until 1965. That was the year they asked me to testify against him, but I was too frightened. He was still living in Guelph when I lived here in 1988. Is there any way you could track him down, or find out if he's alive?”

“First things first. We'll have to go back and look through the records and see if all this adds up; we need a probable cause to conduct an investigation.”

“How many Bibles do I have to swear on to convince you that I know with absolute certainty my mother's body is in that bog? I know it's been fifty years and that's about as cold a case as you're going to get, but my mother deserves peace and I deserve to have her back.”

Fletcher puts his hand on my arm. “Grace, calm down. He's here to help you.”

Take a deep breath. “Sorry. It's been a tough time.”

He passes me a pad of lined paper. “Why don't you write down the facts and we'll take it from here. Let me know where you're staying and I'll be in touch if I find out anything.”

“But you can do it soon, I hope?”

“Mrs. Parsons, police work is not quite how they portray it on television. We don't solve things in sixty minutes.”

“We realize that.” Jonathan glances at me. “We very much appreciate your time and being kind enough to hear us out. This has been a terrible burden for my mother, not knowing what happened to her only parent all these years, so the idea of being this close to finding out is naturally making us anxious.”

“I'll do the best I can.”

It takes me another hour to write everything down and by then I'm done. Once more we head for a hotel, where Jonathan takes out his credit card.

“You can't be paying for everything,” Fletcher says. “We can contribute.”

“Please let me do this. I owe my mother.”

“Well, I'm buying dinner.”

We don't hear anything for two days. I beg Jonathan to go home because I feel guilty that he's missing his family, and tell him we can handle it.

“I see more of my family now than if I was home, thanks to email, Skype, texting, tweeting, and the actual phone. Believe me, I'm not missing anything. And I can do my work on my laptop.”

Fletch and I look at each other.

“Remember the old days, Grace, when you left and people didn't see you until you got back?”

“That was often a good thing.”

The phone finally rings and it's Officer Howard asking us to come to the police station. We try not to get a speeding ticket on our way there. He ushers us into the office.

“Well, I can tell you that Edward Wheeler is alive.”

“Naturally. Evil people live forever.”

“He's in prison for sexual assaults against children.”

“Gee, there's a surprise!” I shout before Fletcher again touches my arm.

“Sorry.”

“We found your records from after the fire, when you went through the foster care system, and we also have confirmation that the fire was indeed in 1965 on the old Wainwright farm, which is now owned by someone else. Based on the validity of all the facts, I think we can go ahead and search the property.”

I want to run out of the office there and then, but once again we have to wait for bureaucracy to shift itself. That takes another two days. Fletch and I play cards to pass the time while Jonathan works away in his room.

The morning we are to go out to the site, I'm up before the sun rises. Fletcher's still sleeping so I get dressed in the bathroom after my shower to avoid waking him. I have to wipe off the steam on the mirror, and when I look at my face, the truth is there for everyone to see. What's going to happen today? If there's nothing in the bog, what do I do? And if there's something…what do I do? My teeth are already chattering.

None of us can eat breakfast, so we head out right away to meet the police at the farm. The car is silent. It's all been said.

For some reason I expected the place to look the same as the last time I was here, but it's completely different when we turn down the driveway. Someone has built a large two-storey house and resurrected the barn, which is actually quite beautiful, painted red like in storybooks. It even has a wrought-iron weather vane in the shape of a rooster.

“I'm not sure where I am,” I whisper to Fletcher.

We get out of the car and stand among the police vehicles, vans, and a tractor-trailer that brought in the backhoe. The people who live in the house are on their back deck, looking nervous.

Chief Howard comes over to us. “Good morning. I'm glad it's not raining. Makes our lives a lot easier. Now, if you would follow me, Mrs. Parsons, I want you to show our machine operators exactly where to dig.”

“I need my husband and son with me. I can't do this alone.”

“Of course, I understand.”

As I walk towards where I think the entrance to the path used to be, I'm suddenly not so sure of my hypothesis. It's all changed. I don't recognize anything.

“I'm sorry…this is very different. It's been a long time.”

Chief Howard doesn't seem worried. “It will come back to you. Take your time.”

Stop freaking out and focus! I try to judge where the tree house used to be. When I look over my shoulder, I realize I can use the barn as a landmark. It was farther away from the bog than this, so I keep walking, everyone else trailing behind me. Going on instinct alone, I take a step into the woods.

The first time my sister and I go to the bog, our mom takes us there. She makes us run faster and faster, telling us to hurry up. I laugh with delight as we tear through the woods, stumbling on the wet ground as we wave branches out of the way.

“Over here!”

We hide behind an outcropping of rock and then sit, leaning against the warm hard surface.

My heart races. “Did I do good, Mama?”

She nods. “You're the fastest.”

“I can run faster than the devil himself.”

My sister turns on me. “Shut up, Grace. You can not.”

“I'm Amazing, thank you very much! Amazing girls can do anything!”

Suddenly I'm at the rock, with no recollection of how I got here. “There's the bog.” I point.

“We'll take it from here,” Chief Howard says. “I want you to go back to the house and we'll keep you updated.”

“Can't I stay here?”

Fletcher takes me by the shoulders. “Let them do their job. Come with me.”

I follow Fletch and Jonathan back out of the woods as the workers and equipment roll in. The owner of the house comes over to us.

“Are you sure I'll be compensated for the damage to my property? They'll have to push trees over to get that thing in there.”

Jonathan says, “Don't worry, sir. I'll take care of it.”

Yet more money he's handing out like candy. What am I doing to everyone?

The lady of the house asks if we'd like to sit on the porch while we wait. She even gives us cups of coffee, but then she retreats inside and leaves us be.

We don't talk to each other, just listen to the machinery endlessly grind away deep in the woods. The tension is unbearable. I have to move. I go down into the yard and wander aimlessly, keeping my mind blank. There's a horse in the field by the barn, eating grass by the fence. He ignores me until I tear a handful of weeds and hold it out to him. He comes over with a lazy step and his soft lips nuzzle the palm of my hand.

“Hello, you.”

He lets me pat his nose and forelock while I breath in his wonderful horsey smell. “I'm glad you're here.”

Just being close to this creature makes me feel better. I'm not even sure how long I stand with him.

The machinery stops.

Fletcher and Jon stand up on the porch. I run over to them. All of us stare at the woods, willing someone to come and tell us what's happening. Eventually we sit down again; it's almost an hour before Chief Howard walks out from among the trees and heads our way. I descend the porch stairs and walk towards him.

When he gets close enough, he takes me by my shoulders. “We found her.”

He steadies me when my knees buckle. My head falls onto his chest.

“Thank you,” I whisper. “Thank you.”

Jonathan leaves for home the next day. Fletcher and I will wait here for the forensic reports and for my mother's remains to be released and cremated.

“I will never forget that you were with me when we found my mother, your grandmother. It made a terrible day a little less painful.”