Grave Concern (31 page)

“That would be nice, dear,” Adele said, but didn't follow up, as though she hadn't grasped the difference in movie fare. Perhaps she was just being polite — or getting too old to care.

“Anyway, all that was a long-winded way of saying I never got to know the Ho Lams when I was here. Though of course I knew the place. Newcomers.”

“Twenty-odd years now, more or less,” Kate said.

“Like I said, newcomers,” said Adele, and they both laughed.

There was another silence, and Adele's half-spoken remark at the graveyard wormed its way back into Kate's thoughts.

“So, Mrs. Niedmeyer …”

“Oh, please, we're both well over the yardarm. Call me Adele.”

“Sorry, hard to break old habits. I never knew you that well when I was a kid. Why was that, anyway? Did you not hang out with my mom?”

“
Hang out!
Well, I'll admit your mother and I weren't close. I'm not sure why. Well, yes, I'm sure. We'd met our men and married. Then we were whooshed, just like that machine, simply
whooshed
into motherhood. Oh my dear, it was cloth diapers and glass bottles and sterilizing and the rest of it. Hanging up clothes to dry, oh my. I had four on my hands. Molly had you, and — well, we were absorbed, completely.” Adele laughed. “I believe they'd call it ‘total immersion,' now.” Then she grew more thoughtful. “I s'pose if we'd been neighbours, it might have been different, but Molly and I, we lived at opposite ends of town. We didn't see each other regular. It was so different then. You were at home with kids, you barely had a minute to call your own, and when you did, you hadn't the oomph to wander far.”

“Even
across town
?”

“We didn't generally pack up and run here and there like they do now. If we got in the car as a family, it would be on the weekend with the men home from work — an expedition. Berry picking or skating up on the reservoir. Beyond that, you'd see mothers at the grocery store and the post office and pass the time of day then. But the little ones hanging off you didn't make for leisurely conversation. And then you got them off to school … I don't know, Kate. To tell the truth, as the years went by, there seemed to be less and less to say. Your mother and I just drifted apart, as you do.”

The barista brought their sandwiches, and both women dove in.

“All this reminiscing makes a person hungry,” Adele said.

“It certainly does.”

“And I'm very glad to have all my own teeth.”

Kate's laugh was genuine but cautious in anticipation of Adele's response. But Adele joined in heartily, and soon the two of them were giggling like girls.

A year to go until graduation, but all Kate could think about was another place, any place but Pine Rapids, where the name J.P. Marcotte would never arise.

In a reversal of the previous year's apathy, Kate threw herself into the life of town and school. She worked after school at the Metropolitan department store, precursor to the Pussy Cat Palace. She auditioned for the school's production of
Oliver!
landing, to her great surprise, the part of Nancy, the heart-of-gold whore.

These relatively wholesome pastimes were, however, counterbalanced by another, darker life occasioned by the frequent weekend absences of Foxy Raymond's parents. Ostensibly, Mr. Raymond was guest lecturing on applied hydroelectric facility management at Queen's University, and Mrs. Raymond going along with him for a break in the daily routine. But, as everyone knew, the two were really visiting Foxy's older sister, impregnated by an inebriated engineer during September's Frosh Week and packed off to an “aunt” far from public view.

The Raymond household thus yielded a fortuitous supervisory vacuum — of which Foxy took full advantage by hosting, on irregular Saturday nights, something he called Chemistry Study Group.

CSG, as it became known, attracted an informal assemblage of a shifting subset of the class of '79. Despite its earnest study of chemical reactivity, CSG bore scant resemblance to school. Smoking dope and dropping the occasional acid was, indeed, a balm for the broken heart. But the real reason Kate kept going was in the vain hope J.P. might turn up. If he was going to surface anywhere in town again, she figured CSG was a good bet. But he never did.

That winter, long and cold, prompted Kate to overcome what now seemed an obsolete fear and to break out J.P.'s old army coat from its hiding place in a never-used suitcase. Telling her mother she'd found it at the church rummage sale, she took to wearing it everywhere. The coat became for Kate a second skin, and she wore it so long into spring the group known as the “airlock smokers,” which one had to, by definition, pass by to get into the school, began to insist she had nothing else to wear. Literally. They offered to take her up on an invitation they deemed obvious.

“Fat chance!” Kate shot back, clutching the coat tighter.

On the drive back to Morning Manor, Kate worked up her nerve. She had never much spoken to anyone about her parents' accident. Even at the funeral, it seemed there was little to say. Older friends of her parents had clasped her hands warmly, murmuring doleful words, but everyone was in shock still.

Now Kate said, “Adele, earlier, in the graveyard, you said everyone was devastated when they heard about the, you know, accident.”

“Oh yes, dear, it was dreadful. You could hear the police and ambulance wailing as they shot out of town. It was late, you know. Most everyone was in bed. The next day was back to work after a long weekend. Everything was so quiet — well, as it usually is.” Adele laughed. “I'm sure you find it far too quiet for your liking, coming from the city and all.”

But Kate was not to be knocked off topic. “What kinds of things did they say? The people in town.”

“Well, Kate, to be frank, there aren't that many left of us who knew your mom and dad well — the ones who came up here when the dam was first getting built. A lot of the younger folks would only have known them as familiar faces on the street. But there are still enough of us originals left to make a kind of quorum, if you know what I mean.”

“A quorum of grief,” said Kate out loud, without meaning to.

“You do have a way with words, Kate. I remember your mother saying as much, oh, when you were quite young. Anyway, whether we saw each other from day to day or year to year (which, as I've said was more the case for your mother and me), we were all in a way
family
, you see. We'd looked after each other in the early days, when there wasn't much here.”

“ ‘Bugs and bush,' Mom said.”

“Ha! Bugs and bush, indeed. She was no slouch with words, either, your mother. In fact, Molly was no slouch most ways. I think I was always a little envious. She was beautiful, you know. The children rarely really see it, I'm afraid. Well, you show a likeness, of course. But, and no insult to you, dear, you're a handsome woman, but Molly was, you know, in her way, stunning. She didn't flaunt her beauty the way, well, the way nearly anyone with an ounce of looks does these days. I rarely saw her wear makeup, for instance. And she was clever, oh yes, far smarter than most. She could run circles around anyone at Scrabble or the crosswords; even playing bridge. I think you took after her that way, didn't you? Well, I know you'll be modest, but people said as much. Oh, and here I'm rattling on, just embarrassing you.”

“Not at all. I'll take every compliment I can get.”

“Anyway, to finish what I was saying, Molly had something else, too, something I always admired. I don't know what they'd say now but we used to call it
grace
.”

At this description of her mother, Kate felt herself tearing up. Instinctively, she turned on the windshield wipers, but of course that did no good.

“But here I go off again. You asked me what people were saying after the accident,” Adele went on. “Just the same things I just said, really. Everyone who knew Molly loved her in their way, and of course John — ” Adele stopped short, then continued, “Dean, well, he was the salt of the earth. Well respected, your father, loyal as they come. Well, you heard the eulogy, praising him to the skies.”

Adele was downright smooth, thought Kate. She'd caught her own mistake so you'd hardly notice. But notice Kate did. They were nearly back at Morning Manor, but this new twist made Kate unwilling to relinquish her companion quite yet. How could she stall? Pretending a smudge on the windshield was blocking her vision, Kate pulled into a gas station, where she spent considerable time rubbing and scraping the glass, deciding how to proceed.

Kate got back in the car. “I was wondering, Adele. Would you mind if we drove past the old telephone exchange? Just so I can see it? Then I'll take you right home, I promise.”

“Surely, dear. Though I'm afraid the building itself is long gone. They tore it down ages ago and put up an apartment. But if you like, I can show you where it was.”

Kate turned right or left as Adele directed, and eventually they drove past an unremarkable set of apartments.

“That's it,” Adele said. “The old Bell exchange. Where it stood, anyway. Hardly memorable now, though, is it?”

“I'd agree with you there,” said Kate. The brick building could have stood on any older, slightly rundown block in Valleyview. Nothing to spark nostalgia or even historical interest. Quite a contrast with the elaborate display down by the river of the squared timber rafts and an old pointer boat hoisted up on a steel beam. Historical photos of the men driving logs, riding the great cribs, heaving and ho-ing every which way.

“I believe there's a plaque they put somewhere on the new building, saying what was there, but I don't see it, do you?”

Kate did not. There was a profusion of greenery about the doorway. It could be hidden behind that.

“Did you want to stop and look around?” Adele said.

Suddenly tired, Kate shook her head. “No, I've got the drive home still. I'll just take you home, if that's okay.”

Adele smiled, her eyes warm and understanding. “I'd like that, dear. To tell you the truth, I'm pretty weary myself.”

It was only as she turned into the Morning Manor lot that Kate found the courage to ask. “Mrs. Niedmeyer,” she said. “Adele, I mean. Earlier, you mentioned a ‘John.' Who was that?”

Adele looked perplexed. “John?” she said. “Did I?”

“Yes,” Kate said, irritated. “Remember, you forgot my dad's name, and said ‘John' instead?”

“So I did.” Adele laughed. “The brain not fully engaged. No surprise, I'm afraid, at my age.” By now they were parked in a stall. Kate waited for Adele to say more.

“Well, Kate, thank you. It's been a lovely day.” Adele turned away and fumbled with the door latch. “Thank you again for your trouble. You'll be well rewarded, rest assured. I'll write you a cheque tonight and put it in tomorrow's mail. They're pretty good about the mail service at the home here, I'll give them that.”