Colette and the Silver Samovar (11 page)

He smoothed his side-fringe hair with shaking fingers. He removed a snowy white handkerchief from the inside pocket of his overcoat and blew his nose.

I opened the door and called out, “Ethelberta?”

Her voice floated back from the dining room. “Is that you, Sprite?”

I led Mr. Murray through the dark kitchen into the dining room. As we got closer, Amos's whimpering grew louder. At the door of the dining room, Mr. Murray stopped. I could see him looking at the empty rooms.

Ethelberta raised her hand to wave hello, but when she saw Mr. Murray, her hand dropped to her throat and her voice died away. She closed her eyes.

“Sprite, what have you done?” she whispered.

Mr. Murray covered the distance between him and Ethelberta in five steps. “Are you injured, Ethelberta?” he asked as he knelt before her like a knight in a storybook.

Ethelberta opened her eyes. “Christopher? Is it really you?” she asked.

They gazed into each other's eyes forever, it seemed to me. It was Amos's whimpering that brought them back to reality.

“My wonderful friend Amos needs medical attention, Christopher. I have no idea how Sprite found you, but perhaps this is the way things are meant to be.”

“Colette came to my shop to sell her beautiful samovar,” he told her. “In the course of our transaction, it came out that she was trying to help her dear friend, Ethelberta Jarvis. I didn't realize you were still living here, Ethelberta,” he said. “When I knew you might need some assistance…well, I had to come.”

I had crawled to where Amos was wedged under the stairs. “His eye is all gooey,” I said. “I think we'd better hurry!”

Luckily Amos was a small dog, so Mr. Murray just wrapped him in a blanket and carried him down the street. Ethelberta tried to stand, but couldn't support herself on her sprained ankle.

“Don't worry,” I told her. “I'll go with them.”

“I hope Amos will be all right,” Ethelberta said.

I reached over and daubed at her tears with the hem of my sleeve, just like my mother always did to me. “He will be,” I said. Then I ran after Mr. Murray and Amos.

I followed them into a veterinarian's office about a block from Mr. Murray's store. Mr. Murray was already talking to a woman with gray hair that frizzed out from her head like a dandelion. “This is Dr. Malachi,” Mr. Murray said. “We are very fortunate to have arrived before she closes for the day.”

Dr. Malachi took Amos from Mr. Murray's arms, and we followed her into an examination room. I stroked Amos's head while Dr. Malachi opened his eyelid and looked at his eye with a little flashlight. She took a needle from a cabinet and gave Amos two shots in the scruff of his neck. As she worked, she explained what she was doing.

“He has an infection in his eye,” she said. “It is a very good thing you brought him in when you did. There is a scratch on his cornea that has become inflamed. I have given him a shot of penicillin to clear up the infection, and now I am going to clean the scratch with a disinfectant. The second shot was to relax Amos so he won't wiggle when I swab his eye.” Amos had gone slack and was sleeping deeply on the table. “Why don't you two go out to the waiting room? I won't be long.”

“Perhaps you can tell me your story,” Mr. Murray said as we sat down.

I glanced at the clock. It was 5:00 pm.

My mother! I jumped to my feet. I had to get to the hospital. What if she woke up and I wasn't there?

“Colette,” said Mr. Murray. “Is something wrong?” Without answering, I ran for the door.

“Colette!” Mr. Murray shouted. “Come back!”

For the second time that day, I ran down the subway steps. A different ticket collector told me that the hospital was the Queen Street stop. At Queen Street, I asked a lady which way to go, and she pointed, saying that the hospital was a few blocks away. My chest burned as I arrived in the hospital reception area. A woman was working at her desk and didn't even look up as I went by. I tried to remember how to get to my mother's room, but it was like the corn maze I'd gone to last fall. A man pushing a bucket and swinging a mop came down the corridor toward me.

“Help you?” he asked.

I told him my mother's room number, and he said, “You got yourself all turned around, little girl. You need to go that way.” He pointed at another long corridor. “Hey, now,” he said when he saw my face. “How about I show you?”

He led me toward a staircase and up one floor. Then we went over a little bridge into another side of the hospital. Underneath us, I could see a coffee cart and an atrium filled with plants and people reading magazines. Some of the people were in wheelchairs. “That's one of the visiting areas,” the man said. He punched an elevator button, and when the elevator arrived, he said, “Just go to the fifth floor and turn left. You got into the South Wing instead of the North, that's all.”

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

It was quiet on the fifth floor. No one was at the nurses' station. My mother's room was dark, but she was there, alone, twitching and grimacing in her sleep. I pulled a chair as close to the bed as I could. I took her hand, put my face on the side of the bed and without another thought, fell into a deep sleep.

Chapter 16

“Colette,” said a familiar voice.

I thought I was dreaming. In the dream, the first person I saw was my grandfather. My grandmother was standing beside him, her hand covering her mouth. A nurse in a white uniform stood beside my mother's bed. She looked like an angel, and for a minute I thought we were all in heaven.

Someone touched my shoulder. This was no dream, I realized. I turned to see who it was. It couldn't be!

My father gathered me into his arms and hugged me tight as I started to cry.

“It's all right,” he said. “It's all right. I came as soon as Mr. Singh told me what had happened.”

“How did he find you?” I sobbed.

“After I arrived at my parents' home, I telephoned to tell you I had landed safely. I thought it was strange that I didn't get an answer, but I didn't worry too much because Iran is eight and half hours ahead of Toronto. But when another day went by, then another, I called Mr. Singh. It wasn't until Thursday evening that I found out what had happened. As soon as I could, I got on a plane and flew right back. I arrived an hour ago, and your grandfather picked me up at airport. That was when he told me that Elena was the last person to see you, and that had been at breakfast! Your grandmother has been looking everywhere for you. No one could find you to tell you that I was on my way home! Where were you?”

I explained about Ethelberta, Amos, Mr. Murray and the samovar. My father just shook his head. “You must never run away like that again, Colette.”

The door to the room opened, and Ethelberta Jarvis and Christopher Murray stood there, mouths open. “Thank heavens!” said Ethelberta. She hobbled toward the bed. “My goodness, but you gave Christopher and me a fright. As soon as he told me that you'd run away, I knew you must have come here.” She sank into a chair by the bed. “You are a most determined child!”

“I tried all day to find you,” my grandmother said softly. “I wanted to tell you your father was coming. However did you find your way here all by yourself? When I think of you running around the streets all alone…” Her voice trailed off. “Thank heavens you are all right!”

I hiccuped. My mother twitched in her strange sleep.

My father gripped my hand, and his eyes were very sad and dark. He put his arms around me and held me tight. “The most important thing is that you are safe,” he mumbled into my hair, and his voice trembled. I rubbed my nose on his jacket.

“Is Mom going to be all right?” I asked. I knew my father would tell me the truth. He was a man of science.

A shiver ran through him. “I don't know,” he said finally.

I patted his hand. “I think she will,” I said. “We must have faith. That's what Mom would want.”

“I want to believe,” he said. He tried to smile. “I am just so glad to have found you!”

“What did your parents say?” I asked him.

“At first they did not think that going back to school was the right thing for me to do. They wanted us to move to Iran, where I could work as an engineer without further education.” A machine beeped, and my grandmother put her hand on my mother's forehead as if she was feeling for a fever. My father touched my mother's hand. “But I told them my life was here with my family, and they agreed to give me the help I need.”

“That's good, isn't it?” I asked.

“Yes,” he said. “But when I heard about what had happened to your mother, I could not think of anything else.”

“Don't worry,” I told him. “We'll work it out.”

“Maybe so,” my father said. “My mother and father are planning to come for a visit as soon as they can get visas,” he added. “They realized that too much time had passed without coming to visit us.”

“That's good news, Dad,” I said. “It's what Mom always said she wanted more than anything.”

My grandmother gasped.

“What is it?” said my grandfather.

“Alice?” my grandmother said. Her voice was a squeak.

We all turned to look at my mother. For the first time in days, her eyes were open, and she was staring right at me.

“Sometimes it happens like that,” Dr. Maluk said. My father, my grandparents and I were standing outside my mother's room. “Sometimes people just wake up, and we don't know why.” He paused. “In the case of your mother, I rather think it was having all of you together.”

“Oh, come now,” said my grandmother. “That's hardly scientific.”

“Perhaps there is more to the story than science,” my father said.

I stared at him. I couldn't believe my ears.

“I don't care why she woke up,” my grandfather said. “I'm just so glad she is back with us.”

My grandmother reached over and took his hand.

My father put his arm around my shoulder. We all looked at each other. My grandmother gave me a weak smile. I smiled back.

“Alice will have to stay with us for a while longer,” the doctor continued. “We'll need to run some tests and assess her condition thoroughly before we can talk about what will happen next.”

My father, grandmother and grandfather started to ask hundreds of questions. I went over to where Ethelberta and Mr. Murray were sitting.

“How's Amos?” I asked.

“Amos is going to be just fine,” Mr. Murray said. “He and Ethelberta are going to come and stay at my house while they recuperate.” He beamed at Ethelberta. “Besides, we have seventy years of conversation to catch up on!”

“I hope we won't be any trouble,” said Ethelberta.

“Nonsense!” said Mr. Murray. “What are friends for?”

“What do the doctors have to say about your mother?” asked Mr. Murray.

“They don't know yet,” I told him. But I knew. It didn't matter what the doctors thought. I knew that she had willed us to come together. I could feel her love wrapped around us like a big red blanket.

Ethelberta could tell what I was thinking. She just smiled and nodded.

And I smiled back.