Amazing Grace (4 page)

“You've got this,” I tell him.

“I called your principal today—”

“On a Saturday?”

“—at her home number, and told her you're taking some time off.”

“She won't let you.”

“She did.”

Melissa's mouth opens and she stares at her dad. “Do not send me to rehab! I'm not into drugs full-time. I'm not an alcoholic. I'm not doing anything different than my friends. It's no big deal. Everybody does it.”

“I'm sending you away.”

“You're not serious.”

“I have to do something. I cannot let this continue.”

Melissa looks furious. “So your solution is to take me away from my father and my mother? You must be reading some great parenting manuals. As soon as your kid makes a mistake, kick them out of the house.”

“Stop with the ‘woe is me' routine,” I say. “When you start behaving like a responsible young woman, you'll be dealt with accordingly.”

She turns around and curls her lip at me. “It's all your fault! Everything was fine until you walked in here. Just go away!”

“I am going away. But guess what? You're coming with me.”

CHAPTER THREE

When I call Fletcher to tell him I'm bringing home a pissed-off devil child, he doesn't seem too bothered. But then, nothing bothers Fletch. Of course, he's never lived with a teenager. A teenager who's just been told she can't have her laptop or phone. She's allowed one suitcase of clothes and Beulah. That's it. (As if I'd leave Beulah behind.)

After three hours of screaming into her pillow, she eventually falls asleep on top of her bed. I don't feel sorry for her. I tell Jonathan to get some sleep; he looks dreadful. I, on the other hand, make sure to sit by front door all night. It's not like I have to worry about her going out the window. She shows up on the dot of three with a bulging knapsack.

“I can't believe you're sitting here.”

“I can't believe you thought I wouldn't be.”

She stomps back to her room.

In the morning, I knock on Jonathan's bedroom door. He opens it, wearing pyjamas that Cary Grant would have on in a forties movie. They're even pressed.

“Did you get any sleep?”

He nods. “A little.”

“I think Melissa and I should leave today. She tried to escape last night, and I don't want her to slip through our fingers.”

“I can change your reservation, but it'll cost more.”

“It's going to cost you a lot more than that. Hire a private plane. I'm not holding this girl down on a commercial flight while she screams she's being kidnapped.”

He looks uncertain. “Are we kidnapping her?”

“Who cares? Do you want your daughter back?”

Jonathan nods. “How are you going to fix her?”

“You leave that to me.”

“You're not going to strap her down and starve her, are you? Or hang her by the toenails?”

“Are you going to give me a hard time, Jon? Just make the arrangements, please.”

Driving to the airport with the weeping Melissa is a real treat. She's getting a lawyer. She's calling the media and child services. She's suing. She'll escape and live with her mother. She'll become a nun. She'll kill herself. She'll jump off a bridge. Her father will never get another Christmas gift from her and as for me, well, I can whistle Dixie. Finally, she says she hates us and is never speaking to us again.

Perfect.

When we get to the airstrip and Melissa spies the private plane, she realizes her plans for making my life hell in coach are thwarted. She looks defeated, but she has one more blow to deliver. She refuses to say goodbye to her father and hurries aboard before he can hug her.

“Do you think this will work?” He looks desperate.

“All I can do is try. If it doesn't, you can bring her back and make appointments with the best therapists in New York, but I don't think there's a pill for spoiled rotten. Say goodbye to Beulah.”

He grimaces at my furry friend. I pat his arm and kiss his cheek. “See ya, Jon. Please don't call her. I'll let you know how things are going. Take care of yourself.”

“You too. Thanks Mom.”

Poor little bugger. I walk up the stairs and duck my head to get in the cabin.

I don't know what Melissa does while we are in the air. I keep my eyes closed. As long as she's quiet I don't care.

Since my son is paying for this flight, we're flying into Sydney instead of Halifax. Fletcher meets us at the airport. My blood pressure returns to normal just looking at his face. He puts his arm around my shoulder and squeezes it.

“Hey Fletch, you remember Melissa.”

“Hello, Melissa.”

She ignores him. We ignore her and wait for the bags. Then we head out to the truck, with Melissa walking a good thirty feet behind us.

“You know what you're doing?” he asks.

“Not really.”

He grins at me. “I brought the dogs.”

Melissa spends the hour ride to Baddeck in the back seat with two wiggly fiends trying to lick her ears. Since she's not talking to us, she just pushes them aside. But Daffy and Donald are very enthusiastic. They only listen to Fletch and he's keeping quiet. They pester her non-stop. I've got Beulah in my doggie carry-all. She's not going to be introduced until we get home.

As soon as Fletch pulls into the yard and turns off the truck, Melissa is out the door, the dogs jumping up and down on either side of her. She stands in the middle of the gravel driveway and shrieks.

“These are the stupidest dogs ever! Tie them up!”

Fletch and I depart the truck as well. He reaches into the back and takes the suitcases. “This is their home. I can tie you up if you like.”

Another shriek and she stomps off behind the trailer and up the hill. The boys think this is great. It's Sunday, no hunters about. Off the three of them go.

“Is this a good idea?”

“She'll be back. She's not dressed properly.”

While I was gone we had a snowfall. Just a coating, but enough that I can see Melissa's grassy footprints through the white film of newly fallen snow. The dogs zigzag back and forth.

When I enter the trailer, a sense of peace comes over me. It won't last long, and so I savour it. I introduce Fletcher to Beulah.

“This dust bunny cost eight thousand dollars.”

His big belly laugh fills the air. He laughs so long and hard he's got tears in his eyes. “I didn't pay that much for this trailer.”

He holds out his massive hand and I place Beulah in the palm of it. He brings her up to his face. “Well, if you don't beat all. Nice to meet you, Beulah.”

The dog starts to wiggle and her two paws disappear into his beard as she tries to kiss him. I can see he's delighted with her. They look ridiculous, of course. Beulah weighs five pounds and Fletch around three hundred, but I do believe they're kindred spirits.

We are eating our dinner of pan-fried haddock, boiled potatoes, beets, and green chow-chow when a frozen child and two exhausted dogs return. Beulah is asleep in her sweater in the centre of the table, curled up in a wicker bread basket.

Melissa's face is vivid red with cold and outrage. “You're eating? You just left me out there and it's dark out!”

“We saved you some dinner. It's in the microwave.”

The boys run to their dishes for their supper and my granddaughter stands glaring at us. She wants to stalk off, but she's hungry. She keeps looking at our food. “I don't like fish.”

“Today's menu is take it or leave it.”

She slumps into a kitchen chair, too tired to bother with this performance. I get up, re-heat her food, and bring it to the table. She grudgingly puts the fish to her nose, sniffs it, and makes a face, but it doesn't take long for the plate to be empty.

“There's a mess of chocolate brownies under that tinfoil over there.” Fletch points at it while I bring his tea. “Courtesy of Dora.”

I grunt.

Now that the food is bringing Melissa back to life, she summons enough interest to say, “Dora the Explorer?”

“Dora the snake-charmer.”

Fletcher shakes his head when I put the plate of brownies in front of him. “I don't know why she bothers you so much.”

“That woman can't wait for me to drop dead. Then she'll wheedle her way in here.”

“What's she gonna do with poor old Harvey?” Fletch asks.

Melissa's mouth is full of chocolatey goodness. “Who's Harvey?”

“Her long-suffering husband. After I'm gone a week, Harvey will have an unfortunate accident—a fall down the cellar stairs, maybe, or his brakes will fail coming down Kellys Mountain. You mark my words.”

“You have a vivid imagination,” Fletch laughs.

The dogs finish their food. They pick up Beulah's scent and sniff the plastic tablecloth. Fletch takes the basket with Beulah in it and tells them to sit.

“Now, this little lady is Beulah. You boys have to treat her nice.” He holds out the basket but has his enormous hand covering her, letting the dogs smell but not touch her. They are in a frenzy of sniffing. Tom and Jerry are on the counter, watching every move. Fletch takes his hand away and Beulah sleepily opens her eyes. Her nose goes twitchy and she jumps up. She sees her four new roommates and has a conniption fit. Her shrill yapping sends both the cats and dogs running for cover.

Fletch starts his belly laugh, and no one can resist that—even Melissa smiles. Then she looks at me and it disappears.

Fletch leaves with his new best friend and heads for his recliner. “Come on, Beulah, time to meet Starr Dobson.”

Melissa looks around. “Where's my room?”

“I'll show you after we finish these dishes.”

“How long are you going to keep up this prison-warden charade? You let me nearly freeze to death outside and now I'm your housemaid.”

“I'll wash. You dry.”

“No.”

“No food for you, then.”

Melissa jumps up and clenches her fists. “You think you're going to bend me to your will by being all mean and tough?”

I turn to look at this exhausted, overwhelmed, and totally messedup kid. “Have you ever done dishes?”

“No.”

I throw the dish towel to her. “It's easy.”

We do the dishes. When she grabs an entire handful of cutlery at once, I let it slide.

“I'll take you to your room.”

We walk by Fletch, who's snoring on his recliner. Beulah has made herself comfortable on the outer edge of his beard.

Melissa points listlessly. “She's my dog.”

“She's not going anywhere.”

We go past Fletch's room first and then she automatically enters the next room down. “This is pretty small. It's like a walk-in closet.”

“Sorry, this is my bedroom, and it's luxurious compared to yours.”

She spins around and faces me. “I thought you and Fletcher were a couple.”

“We're roommates.”

“Friends with benefits?”

“That's none of your business.”

“So you have no excuse not to leave this place. You really could come to New York. You just don't want to.”

I take her by the shoulder and steer her out into the hallway. “There are things I have to do before I die, and being in the States will not help me.”

“You are a very confusing woman, Gee.”

I open the door to the spare room, which is not what you'd call attractive. There's a bed and a bunch of stuff I throw in there when I'm in a hurry. Fletch was nice enough to make the bed and put towels on the end of it. Her suitcase is on the floor.

“This is where you'll sleep. The cats may visit you through the night. You might as well keep your door cracked open, because they will scratch until you let them in. The bathroom is down the hall to your right. I'll leave a night light on. Feel free to use any toiletries. There's a new toothbrush in the medicine cabinet.”

I imagine the look on her face is identical to that of people who have encountered aliens. She blinks several times. “Are you for real? I have no phone, no laptop, no music, no television. What am I supposed to do?”

“There's a pile of books over there you might enjoy before bedtime. If you need anything, just holler. I'll let you get sorted.”

When I leave the room, I close the door to give her some privacy. I hear her weeping. That's a good thing. She needs to let a lot of stuff out.

I'm too tired to do anything but get ready for bed. Fletch usually sleeps out on his recliner until about eleven. Then he'll let the dogs out for their last pee, make sure the doors are locked once they come in, and bank the fire in the wood stove. When I hear his bedsprings groan, that's the signal that our day has come to an end. We're snug in our nest, dogs, cats, and people snoring until morning.

And Melissa will be snoring, despite her misery. She was outside in that crisp air for three hours. She's not used to pure, clean oxygen.

Melissa is still asleep at noon, which makes for a pleasant morning. Gladys Nicholson calls to ask something trivial. She has gossip on her mind. Doesn't everyone in a small town?

“Len was talking to Harvey, who was talking to Fletch, who said your granddaughter is visiting from New York.”

“That's right.”

“How nice for you. Did I hear someone say her father is quite wealthy?”

“He has a bit of money.”

“Too bad he doesn't give some to you and Fletch.”

“Fletch and I are just fine. Did you want something, Gladys?”

“Janet Pickup wants you to organize the food drive this year.”

“I can do that.”

“How about the craft table for the Christmas tea and sale?”

“Fine.”

“Delima was wondering if you could make up the advent calendars to sell for the hospital auxiliary?”

“Guess what Delima can do with her advent calendars and her coconut balls.”

Gladys giggles. “You are a breath of fresh air, Grace Willingdon.”

Melissa eventually stirs. The bathroom door closes and soon after that I hear the shower go on, and then a yelp. “OMG!”

Let's see. She could be furious at the one showerhead, the low water pressure, the unheated floors, or maybe the clunking of the water pump. I'll have to ask her.

She eventually vacates the bathroom and her bedroom door closes. She stays in there, rejecting my breakfast and lunch. But I did promise her father I wouldn't starve her, so I put a chicken sandwich, a glass of milk, and more brownies on a tray. I knock on her door.

“Go away.”

“I'll leave your lunch outside the door. It's up to you whether you want the dogs to get it.”

I'm not down the hallway before I hear the door open and close. She stays in her room all afternoon while I go about my business.

It's only when the spaghetti sauce for supper is simmering on the stove, and Beulah and I are watching a nature documentary on beavers that Melissa comes out of her room and sits on the loveseat by the wood stove. I turn off the television.

Her hair is flat, her face unadorned. I can see her freckles. She looks sixteen.