Dollybird (21 page)

“Get him off my property.” My voice came out a bark.

The other men looked back at me, sharp. One or two nodded. With big strides, I went after Gabe. I wanted to feel the crunch of his nose under my fist, hear the scream of pain when I kicked his groin, let Moira see I knew the truth about her: she'd been struggling just as hard as me. But Joe grabbed my arms too fast, held them from behind, saying, “Whoa, Dillan. He's not worth it.” Joe couldn't know how wrong he was. He nodded to two men nearby, and before I could shake Joe off, they had hustled Gabe away. And then I stood in front of Moira with nothing to offer, not even Gabe's crushed nose.

“I am more sorry than I've ever been in my life.” I said it loud.

She nodded, breathing noisily as though she might finally let herself cry.

CHAPTER 32

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MOIRA

The harvest dance
was in full swing. Silas and I stood watching, a sleeping Shannon in my arms. A grey-haired fiddler scratched out a country tune, while his son strummed a guitar and sang slightly off-key. Young men with scrubbed, shiny faces cautiously crossed the hall to approach even younger women, who stood waiting, shy but hopeful. I'd never been a wallflower, my dance card always full. I swallowed hard at the memory. At how much had changed.

Silas had heard about the episode with Gabe. “It's such a small place. How could Dillan not know I lived at Penny's brothel?” I asked him.

“Excuse me for saying so, but sometimes Dillan has his head up his ass and can't see what's happening right in front of him.”

I laughed and Shannon stirred in my arms, smiling, rooting for her thumb. I had missed Silas through the long harvest. His straightforward way.

“Look at how he is with Carla,” Silas continued as Dillan and Carla stumbled by, hands touching, eyes radiant. “She couldn't make things any more clear. Some things are just so obvious.”

It didn't seem all that obvious to me. There was Casey to consider, and Shannon. I needed to live with him until I figured out how to get home. I hadn't considered it could be Dillan who might help Carla, who might rescue her and give her the choices she deserved.

“Listen here, Moira. Even though Dillan didn't know about Penny's, he should have stepped in.” His face drew tight. He turned suddenly and looked into my eyes, then whisked Shannon away and into the arms of Mrs. Miller, who was standing nearby. “Let's dance, Moira Burns.”

My protest went unheeded.

“Go on girl.” Mrs. Miller gave me a small push, nodding toward Silas as he stood waiting, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the waltz that had just begun. His hand was on my back, guiding me to the middle of the dance floor and into his arms, my right hand clasped lightly in his, his other encircling my waist. One, two, three. One, two, three. We waltzed in sweeping circles, the fiddler's music filling the room with a plaintive keening, and I succumbed to Silas's guiding hands. He was gazing down through his thick glasses, a slightly dreamy smile at the corners of his mouth. I grinned back at him and slowly let my arm rest against his.

The song ended, the fiddler becoming businesslike again as he announced they'd resume playing after a short break, suggesting we enjoy the refreshments laid out near the coatroom. Silas walked me back to Mrs. Miller. Shannon was winding up to cry. I kept my eyes down, but no one was paying the least attention to us. Except for Dillan. He sent me a small wave from across the hall while Carla, standing at his side, beamed up at him. Silas was right; it was obvious. I smiled back. Then Shannon began to wail.

“I should be taking her home.” It was a disappointing thought.

Silas nodded and I went to gather our things before making my way over to Dillan. “Are you ready to go then?” I asked, and he looked dismayed. Casey leaned against his knee, tired from a full night of dance and strangers.

“I'll take them home,” Silas said from behind me. He helped me with my jacket and picked up Casey, arranging us like a family about to head out.

Relief spread across Dillan's face, and I saw the barely contained joy in Carla's eyes as she pulled him onto the dance floor again. As we headed out the door, I caught sight of Gabe leaning against the wall in the corner, his hat pulled down low. He watched Carla and Dillan spin past him, shaking his head and muttering to himself, his eyes following their every move. I shuddered and rushed out quickly, unsure of what Silas might do if he saw Gabe there.

The air outside was fresh and autumn crisp. Casey promptly fell asleep on the wagon seat between us while I fed Shannon, a blanket thrown over her head and my shoulder. She, too, was quickly dreaming.

“I hope you don't mind, but I'd like to go by my place first.” Silas sounded casual, but his voice betrayed there was something on his mind. We were alone but for small babes who would keep all secrets for now. I trusted him and his good-natured way, but I'd begun to doubt my instincts.

“That's fine,” I said finally. “How is it I haven't seen your home? You're one of the first people I met when I arrived in Saskatchewan.”

“There's not much to see, I'm afraid. I don't spend much time there,” he said.

“A person's home says a lot about them, don't you think?” I spoke quickly, suddenly conscious of my current homelessness, wondering if home still existed for me in my parents' house. I hadn't received a single response to my letters and had stopped asking Dillan about the mail, my disappointment harder to hide each time he shook his head. Instead I hoped to be surprised one day by some correspondence from my family, some sign that I was indeed still one of them.

We were pulling up to an old two-story frame house where beautiful big elms loomed over the verandah, their branches reaching into the shadows, dwarfing the house. At least these giants had survived the storm. He took Casey down from the wagon and helped me with Shannon.

“I haven't kept it up,” he said as we mounted steps to the double front door.

“I'm sure it's wonderful.”

It was less than wonderful. When Silas opened the door, I was startled by an orange tabby cat shooting out between my feet. The air coming from the house smelled musty. I hesitated to go in, able to see only the outline of furniture until Silas hurriedly laid Casey down on a cot in one corner of the room and lit a lamp. An oak table sat in the middle of the kitchen with four chairs around it, one of them resting precariously on three good legs against the table. Everything was covered with a thick coat of dust except a small area on the kitchen counter, a chair and a clean circle on the table in front of it where Silas obviously had his meals.

We walked in silence to the sitting room. A davenport and two armchairs were covered in white sheets turned grey with dust. Through an open arched doorway, we emerged into a small adjoining room with varnished floors and what had once been a luxurious area rug. An upright piano stood in one corner. I ran the fingers of my free hand lightly over the keys, their worn sheen. They'd been played a great deal.

“Do you play?” he asked quietly.

“Some.”

He was watching, searching for my reactions maybe, or simply letting the house reveal itself. I wished I'd kept quiet earlier.

“It's a lovely house. Just needs a little cleaning.” I wiped a finger through the dust on the banister of a staircase and peered up into the gloom to see the closed door at the top.

He laughed – a small, relieved sound that broke the tension. Shannon stirred, yawning a smile in her sleep. We watched her for a moment before Silas took my arm and guided me to another corner of the room. He pulled a sheet from a large oak cabinet framed by ornately carved mouldings. Inside it was a full set of four beautiful rose-patterned china teacups and saucers, a teapot and an assortment of dinnerware. Silas opened the door and gestured for me to look inside. Picking up the pieces one by one, I admired the red-and-white detail, their fine pattern a reminder that, somewhere in the world, such beautiful things were still admired.

“I have a proposition for you. No, that's the wrong word,” he said when I stepped away from him. “Look. You are in a predicament. And if something happens between Dillan and Carla, where will you be?”

I didn't want this conversation. “Surely she'll finish school before she's allowed to leave home.”

“I think you know that's not how it works.” He was growing impatient. “It would be good for Dillan. And for Casey. He needs a real mother.”

I stiffened. “And not a dollybird.”

“Oh God, Moira.” Silas looked stricken. “That's not what I meant. Come, let me show you something.”

Grabbing a lantern, he took me by the elbow and guided me up the stairs. When he reached the top he stepped in front of me and the door swung in, opening to a large room. The light threw shadows on the gabled walls as he hung the lantern from a hook in the ceiling. The hardwood floors had been recently polished. Against one wall was a wide bed with a small dresser next to it, a bassinet on the other side. The bed was covered with a worn comforter, the lovely blue of my grandmother's shattered china. A desk and chair were arranged on the opposite wall with a few books stacked beside them. I walked around the room lightly touching things, running my hand over the bedspread, the top of the dresser. I turned to find Silas watching me.

“It's for you,” he said, and took Shannon from me and laid her in the bassinet. All the blood rushed to my head as he approached and put his hand on my arm. “You can live here, in this room. For now.”

There were times in the past few months when I would have given anything to have this room. To feel at home. To feel safe. A strange sense of calm overtook me. He thought I was like the china in the cabinet, too fragile for everyday use, needing to be kept out of harm's way as though I might shatter at the first sign of trouble-blue teacups in a storm. But I was not so fragile. I had choices. I pulled away.

“Silas, it's wonderful, absolutely wonderful, but...” I wanted desperately not to hurt him. “I've decided to go home, to Newfoundland.”

“Moira.” His hands reached out and then fell to his sides.

“I have to go back and set things straight with my father.”

“But he's abandoned you,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Father reacted the way any father would.”

It all came rushing at me. I wanted to give Father a second chance. And perhaps he'd give me one as well, mentoring me, teaching me the rest of what I needed to know to be a good doctor, perhaps even to be a good parent.

“If I don't go back I can't become a doctor. Not the kind I want to be. They can help with Shannon so I have time to learn. And they are still my family.”

Silas shook his head in disbelief, and anger burned in his dark eyes. “I'll take you home now.”

The ride was stiff and silent. As we pulled up I saw the sod hut as Silas must see it, cramped and musty despite our best efforts to spruce it up. Small wonder he'd thought I'd jump at his offer. He came in and helped Casey into his pajamas and tucked him into bed, gave the slightest of nods and was out the door. I wanted to go after him, to make amends, but what could I say to make things different?

CHAPTER 33

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DILLAN

I walked home
from the dance, my heart still thumping with the excitement of dancing with Carla and holding her small hand. Didn't matter I'd tripped over myself and stepped on her feet a few times. She'd just laughed and held on tighter. Her father had watched the whole time, looking about ready to nail my ass to the wall, but that didn't matter either. Out in the night air now, with all the good feeling inside me, I could have walked for hours.

I heard a wagon coming toward me. It was Silas. He'd dropped Moira off at home and was heading back to his place.

“I'll take you partway. Then you can head across country home,” he said without looking at me. He cursed the horses to git up. Don't know why he offered me a lift when he seemed in such a hurry, trotting the horses, shaking the hell out of us both. We were silent for a mile or so.

“I saw you dancing with Moira.” My voice sounded loud in the night.

Silas jerked upright, his lips set in a hard line. “Stay out of it,” he warned.

“Why don't you tell her?”

He hauled on the reins to stop the wagon, and I almost pitched over the horse's rump. “Get out, you son of a bitch,” he said.

I jumped down and fell as my feet hit the ground. He was spitting mad when I looked up at him. But I couldn't help myself. “Just tell her, Silas.”

“Son of a bitch.” He said it again, but the mad was suddenly leaving his face. He whipped the reins hard and the wagon lurched away.

I lay there looking at the stars with the brittle fall grass poking my ass, wondering what had happened to put the fear in his eyes. I got up and started walking west, calculating Carla's farm to be only about a half mile away.

I stood there considering the door of the Schmidts' house, thinking of what to say to Carla's father. But when his large shadow passed the window, I turned and went to the side of the house where I knew she and the children shared a room, feeling scared and stupid at the same time. I rapped on the window and a small girl appeared. She smiled and then her blonde curls disappeared. Seconds later, Carla was there. When she saw me she pushed the window up.

“Can you come out?” I asked. More than anything, I wanted to talk. “Come to the old tree by the dugout.”

“Ssshhh.” She turned to hush the snickering behind her. “I'll try. But if I'm not there in ten minutes, I'm not coming. Father keeps a close eye.”

As I rushed away I had the shivering thought that if her father had his sights on me, I'd be a hopelessly easy target on the open prairie. The trunk of the old elm didn't offer much more protection. A few mosquitoes buzzed round my head. I heard muttering first, then footsteps in the grass.

“Dillan?” Carla called softly.

“I'm here.” The breath rushed out of me. “By the tree.”

She tumbled into the shelter of its boughs and sat on the ground beside me, her breath heavy at first – she must have run the whole way – and then her breathing slowed and grew shallow with her lungs filling up.

“This is ridiculous, you know,” I whispered. “I'm a grown man. A father. What can he do?” I spoke louder, tempting fate I suppose.

“He can make my life miserable. That's what he can do,” she said, and I saw the gleam in her scared eyes.

There was a long pause. A far-off cow bellowed, announcing her heat to any bull that might be interested or unfenced. Carla buried her head in her arms, and I moved in close beside her, putting my arm around her, not knowing what to say.

“It's okay,” I whispered.

“Dillan, he wants me to marry Gabe. I heard them talking, making a deal. Gabe will partner up farming with my father when he marries me.” Her voice broke. “Father says it's best for all of us. He needs the help, and he figures I likely won't find any better prospect.”

The words hung between us. I knew what she wanted me to say, her body gone taut with hope. Bloody Christ. I couldn't let her father give her to Gabe. But I couldn't say the words she wanted to hear either, just sat there wondering how in hell I could help her without promising too much. We sat a long time not saying a thing. It was like the air between us was loaded with dynamite, and the wrong words would set off a million sparks.

“I'm afraid.” There, I'd said it.

“Of what?”

“Of trying again. I wasn't very good to Taffy. I didn't listen. Didn't think enough about her.”

She interrupted. “You're so hard on yourself, Dillan. You gave her what she needed.”

I waited, hoping Carla had some wisdom I didn't possess, some divine gift of understanding. It seemed to me we were all sitting on the edge of the world, all of us, staring down at what might make us happy, but not seeing it for all the bits of trouble floating between us and what we wanted.

“You loved her.”

We sat there, the hair on my arms moving against the scratchy wool of the wrap she wore. Our hands didn't touch, but her fingers were so close it was like the blood pumped a current through the ground until my fingers ached. Something fluttered in my stomach, ached in my groin. And suddenly I was doubled over with guilt. I couldn't recall Taffy's face. Not exactly. Only shadows, bits of her, blue flirty eyes, the vague shape of her nose muddled in with lines in her forehead, the lobes of her ears. I couldn't get her straight in my head. It was like a brick was resting on my chest, and I started breathing hard. The sky had clouded so the night was like pitch, dark enough to make a man disappear altogether. But Carla's fingers brushed my hand, brought me back from the livery and the fear and the pain.

“Taffy,” I said. It was a moan coming up from some godforsaken hole in my gut. Carla leaned toward me, took my hand in her own and squeezed. I held on tight, like she was saving me from drowning right there in a sea of grass.

“She's gone, Dillan,” Carla whispered.

And for the first time it seemed real. I searched the black night like something might appear in the stars, telling me what to do. But I only saw my life with all its mistakes and pain. I'd filled the hole where Taffy had been with hating myself. But Casey was surviving without her. A picture of the boy jumped at me, him waving like a fool with a huge smile on his tiny face. He was happy. I imagined the light touch of Taffy's hand on my cheek, remembered her as she'd been in life, not sick or dying or afraid. “Be happy,” she'd say when I was crazy about what was going to happen, about failing both of us. She seemed to be saying it now. “Be happy.”

I smoothed Carla's hair, took her chin in my hand and lifted her face to my own, my lips against her eyelids, her cheek, her nose, my chest opening up with the feeling that life was possible again. Finally I kissed her long and deep.

We snuck back to her window, whispering promises about being together, about making a home someday. We'd convince her father he didn't need Gabe, that they'd all be better off with me. Walking home, my head spun with the excitement and fear of it. It was so late it was early, the horizon lightening with the sun somewhere close to rising. I wondered if Moira was worried. Wondered too if what had broke between her and Silas could be fixed.