Rush Home Road (27 page)

Sharla was frustrated, trying to whisper and still get Addy's attention. “Mu-um?”

Addy turned back and laughed and squeezed Sharla's arm with affection and said, “I'm sorry, Honey. I'm not being very good company, am I?”

“No,” Sharla answered shortly, “you're just looking over there and you're not talking to me too.”

Addy and Sharla ate their fish dinner and pronounced it the best they'd ever had. Addy broached the subject of Mrs. Pigot gingerly, and when she saw Sharla still didn't want to talk about her, she promised, “Don't worry, Sharla. Mrs. Pigot's not gonna be spanking you any more. She's gonna be nice to you from now on.”

“She is?”

“Mmm-hmm. You tell me if she isn't because she and I, we made a kind of agreement.”

“To be nice to me?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“And Prasora too?”

“I think she's gonna be nicer to all the children from now on.”

The waitress set the desserts before them and surprised Addy by bringing both Jell-O and pudding for Sharla. Sharla clapped and took a spoonful of each, letting them melt together in her mouth as she watched the waitress walk away. “That waitress is
really
nice to me.”

“Yes she is, Honey.”

Sharla licked her spoon clean of pudding, then announced casually, “Collette used to be a waitress.”

Addy bristled because Collette's name had not come up in weeks. “Did she?”

Sharla nodded and said no more. Addy didn't ask questions. She knew Collette was never coming home and thought it might be easier for Sharla if they didn't talk about her at all. She was about to ask Sharla how her
pudding was when she felt eyes on the back of her head and turned around to see whose. The couple she'd been watching were at the coat stand, the man helping the woman into her jacket. He was looking at Addy with the same curious expression she'd trained on him. So they
did
know each other. But the man also seemed unsure of the nature of their acquaintance. He nodded to Addy and she nodded back. The woman said something to her husband and he just shook his head.

When the couple was gone, Addy felt relieved and couldn't say why. The nice waitress called them a taxicab. Addy left the girl a larger than usual tip, squeezed her arm, and whispered, “Thank you for being so nice to the child.” The waitress squeezed back and said, “No problem, Ma'am. She's a sweetie.”

Addy took Sharla's hand and thought, yes she is, as they climbed into the taxi. The driver was one Addy knew and she didn't even have to say where she wanted to go. He asked, “Nice dinner at The Satellite, Mizz Shadd?”

“Very nice, thank you, Calvin. We had the fish,” she answered, smiling.

“We had the best table in the house,” Sharla added.

Addy leaned forward. “Why aren't you taking Wellington Street, Calvin?”

“Accident, Ma'am. It's all blocked off.”

“Accident? Oh, my.”

“Driver slammed into that big oak near Gilbert's gas station on Harvey. Car's a wreck.”

“Oh no. But that oak's way off the road.” Addy glanced beside her, glad that Sharla was looking out the window and not paying attention to the conversation. She leaned a little closer and lowered her voice. “He must have been driving some speed. Was he hurt?”

“She. Teacher over at the school there on Princess Street.”

Addy's heart seized. She struggled for breath before she asked in a whisper, “Mrs. Pigot?”

Calvin took his eyes from the road to look at her. “How'd you know?”

“I didn't. Oh, Lord.”

Calvin glanced into the rear-view to make sure Sharla wasn't listening and added through the side of his mouth, “Drunk as a skunk, too. And it wasn't five o'clock when it happened so they figure she must have been tippin' 'er back at school.”

Addy could barely whisper, “Was she killed?”

“Hardly a scratch. Isn't that the way?”

Addy paused to take it in, then nodded. That was the way. “She'll lose her job though, won't she?”

Calvin nodded. Addy felt relieved, but ashamed too. Why hadn't she gone straight to the principal and told him about the bottle of gin? What if the drunken teacher had run into some innocent person instead of an oak tree? Why had Addy threatened and frightened the woman instead of trying to reason with her? In the end, was she just a bully too?

The wind was strong that night. It howled through the trees and tore down branches and knocked over garbage cans and kicked them around the mud lane. Addy slept not a wink. She couldn't help but think that old as she was she still had so many lessons to learn. And she knew that she'd die before she learned them all. She thought of Mrs. Pigot and how the woman's worst sin was likely just ignorance.

In the morning Addy made sausage and eggs. She was drying the dishes when Sharla asked, “Who's gonna be my new teacher?”

“New teacher?”

“'Cause of Mrs. Pigot hitting that oak.”

“I didn't know you were listening to me and Calvin, Sharla. I didn't want you to hear all about that.”

“Why?”

“Because that's a distressing thing when a person's in a car accident.”

“Because she's drunk as a skunk?”

“Don't you
ever
be repeating a thing like that, Sharla,” Addy said sharply. “You understand me? Ever.”

“Yes, Ma'am.”

“That woman must have a tortured soul to do the things she does.”

“I hate her.”

“No, Sharla. You don't hate anyone.”

“Yes I do.”

“Look at me.” Addy sat down next to Sharla and took her soft face in her old hands. “I know Mrs. Pigot
was mean to you, but you gotta find it in your heart to forgive her.”

“Why?”

“Because if you don't, you carry those bad feelings around with you all your life and hate's like salt in water, Sharla: once it gets in there it's a hard thing to get out. You forgive Mrs. Pigot. All right?”

“All right. But can I be glad there's gonna be a new teacher?”

Addy ignored the question, hurrying Sharla out the door with her school snack and warm hat. It was not unusual to hear voices from the other side and it rarely frightened her, but Addy shuddered, when she sat down at the table and everything was still, to hear a low voice whisper, “What about me, Adelaide?”

The voice did not belong to Leam or the few others Addy spoke with from time to time. It was her father, and he asked again, “What about me? Do you forgive
me
, Addy?”

Addy couldn't answer. She rose and left the room, hoping that her father's voice wouldn't follow. Hoping she wouldn't hear it again. She would
never
forgive
him.

 

Tea

HAMOND FERGUSON HAD TAKEN
Addy's suitcase and his mother's, of course, and begun to walk away from the train station in Chatham without a word or second glance. He kept his eyes on his boots and swung his head from side to side as Willow peppered him with questions about Olivia's wedding. “Have to ask Mary Alice about that,” he said seven times before Willow caught on she was talking to the wrong person.

Addy had expected Hamond to be driving a truck, seeing as Willow'd said he was a farmer, but they walked past the Chatham station and crossed two busy streets and there appeared to be no truck or wagon or any other method of transport waiting for them. Addy wondered if they were going straight to the wedding and if the roof would cave in if she dared to enter the church. She was sore and still not accustomed to the weight of Verilynn's big boots but didn't mind that she lagged behind. She wanted to give Hamond and Willow a little privacy in case he had a protest.

She looked around the busy streets and marvelled at how one town could look so much like another. The little
neighbourhood they were heading for now looked not unlike the one where she'd lived in Detroit, or the one Morris Davies drove her through in Sandwich. She wondered if when she got to Toronto, she'd be disappointed by the sameness of it too.

They walked down a street called Degge Street, past modest clapboard houses with tiny front yards, and backyards that were small patches of grass with wood sheds and not much else. Hamond turned when they reached the end of the street and started up the walkway of the smaller-than-the-rest corner house. Willow turned to look at Addy, as if she suddenly remembered her presence. “Hamond says it's fine for you to stay.”

Given the man's expression when he first laid eyes on her, Addy was surprised by Hamond's generosity. “He said it's fine?”

Willow nodded. “He said you can stay as long as you need. This is his and Mary Alice's house. You coming inside or not?”

Addy looked up at the little house, confused. “I thought he was a farmer.”

Willow laughed. “He is a farmer, but he don't
own
the land he farms, Child. Not many Negro landowners around here. Unless you count Rusholme, but that's a whole different story.”

Addy shivered at the mention of Rusholme and thought of her father. She looked down Degge Street, wondering if Wallace's feet had trod upon this very side
walk. She felt a rush of panic when she realized she didn't know where the canning factory was. She'd find out though and be sure to avoid that part of town during her short stay. She reckoned Hamond Ferguson'd be able to direct her to a jeweller who'd give her a good price on her diamond-and-emerald ring. Then she could get back on the train and go. She was determined to go to Toronto, or anywhere that wasn't here.

Before Hamond even pulled open the front door, Addy could hear the commotion inside. There were easily a dozen women, young and old, quiet and bold, all crammed into the little sitting room. Addy could see Olivia Ferguson in her long buttery gown, her headpiece askew, a sheer veil falling over her tear-streaked face. The bride exhaled a sob and the women's voices rose above in wails of comfort. Addy watched Willow fold into the crowd and make her way to Olivia, glad she herself had become invisible.

A few more women flowed out from the kitchen fussing with pastry trays and pies and crocks of beans and pans of scalloped potatoes. It took three of them to carry a huge covered roasting pan and the look and smell of the food reminded Addy she'd eaten only a few apples since her chicken-leg supper the night before. She was perspiring from hunger and heat but she dared not doff her coat or boots before she was invited to do so by her host, and as yet she didn't know which one of the women was Mary Alice. She pressed herself against the wall, watching, waiting, and wondering what to do next.

The women, whatever they were saying to Olivia, seemed to be making the girl more miserable. Addy's heart thumped as Olivia's sobs grew louder. She could only imagine the horror that must have befallen the young bride. Oh Lord, Addy thought, the groom has fled town. Or worse, it's been discovered he was already married. Or maybe his parents forbade the union at the last moment, reckoning a restaurant owner's son could do better than to wed a farmhand's daughter. Poor Olivia's wails had reached a crescendo and finally she blurted, “They don't match. They
don't match
!”

Addy stood on her tiptoes to see into the crowd of women. What didn't match, she wondered, that would make Olivia sound so desperate? And then she saw, in Olivia's hands, a pair of beautiful silky white slippers. It was Willow who'd pointed out, and caused a fresh flood of tears, “Only time folks is gonna see your shoes is when you're dancing, Livvy. If you really care so much, why, just slip them off and go barefoot!”

“They're white!” Olivia wailed. “They're white and they're wrong and they spoil this gown! They
do
!” She held the slippers against the bodice of her dress and cried in horror, “
Look!
”

Olivia was right. The slippers were too sharp and too white and didn't favour the less dazzling, soft, creamy tone of the dress. Addy knew right away what to do, for she remembered Laisa fretting over her new white curtains for the bedrooms, which she very much wanted to match with
her old faded curtains in the front room “so it looks just right from the street.” It wasn't until the whole room went silent and one by one they turned to look at her that Addy realized she'd spoken her thoughts out loud.

A stern older woman wearing a blue dress and smart hat stepped forward and eyed her coolly. “The wedding starts in exactly six minutes and Darryl's already at the church. How exactly do you think you can take the white out these slippers in six minutes, Young Lady?”

Olivia watched Addy in her too-big coat and boots and didn't think to wonder who she was or why she was there. She brushed back her veil and wiped the tears from her cheeks and said, “Can you do it? Can you? It ruins
everything
if they don't match.”

Addy moved through the crowd, taking the slippers and turning back to the woman in the blue dress to ask, “Is there tea? And an old handkerchief?”

There were murmurs all around, especially among the older women, for it was common to use tea as stain. The woman in blue returned at once with a cup of tea and a torn handkerchief, which Addy quickly dipped and wiped over the silky surface of the slippers. In less than seconds the tea soaked the satin and the white disappeared, and though the tone was not so soft and creamy as the gown, it was better and closer, and Olivia started to cry all over again. “Thank you. Oh thank you,” she said. She eased her feet into the tea-damp slippers and sailed out the door with the rest of the crowd in tow.

Addy stood alone in the room, which seemed much larger now, though the energy of the women and the smell of the food on its way to the church basement still clung to the air. She'd been forgotten and was severely relieved, for she didn't see how she could go into a church, any church, and she'd feel foolish pretending to celebrate the wedding of a spoiled young woman whose acquaintance she'd just made. Besides, she was still feeling sorry enough for herself over her soured love with Riley Rippey and the too-recent tragedy of her baby's death.

Though she felt a little strange, Addy slipped out of her coat and boots, settled into one of the high-back chairs by the window, and closed her eyes. It was almost dark when she awoke but she didn't feel afraid and remembered right off she was at the Ferguson house in Chatham. On the table in front of her was a plate of wedding food, which she smelled before she saw, that someone fixed and brought over and went to the trouble of covering with a pot lid to keep warm. There was also a glass of milk and a slice of butter pie and three different kinds of fruit squares. Addy smiled when she saw the food, and looked around, even as she knew she was alone and there was no one to thank but the Lord. She reckoned it must have been Willow who remembered her and she felt ashamed once more at how she'd hated the old woman when first they met. She ate every last morsel much too quickly, then closed her eyes and fell instantly back to sleep.

When Addy woke again, it was morning, and this time she was confused and felt like she might be dreaming. She
was not upright in the chair by the window but supine on the sofa, a soft pillow beneath her head and a warm blanket covering her body. She could smell coffee, and after her eyes adjusted to the light, she could see a woman sitting across from her. The woman was tall and sat queenly in her chair. Her head was perched on a neck so long and slight it seemed in the process of being swallowed by her collar. She was in silhouette against the window and her details were lost in shadow, but Addy guessed the woman young rather than old, and pretty, if not outright beautiful. The woman turned to look out the window and Addy glimpsed her feline eyes.

Addy sat up, feeling caught and guilty. “Ma'am,” she said.

The woman turned, took a slow deliberate sip of coffee, and gestured at the cup she'd set on the table for Addy. “Mary Alice. You call me Mary Alice.”

Addy rubbed her eyes and thought it strange she couldn't remember the woman's face from the crowded room yesterday. “Thank you for your hospitality, Ma'am. I know it musta been a surprise to have Willow bringing me here on your daughter's day and I just hope I wasn't too much trouble.”

“No trouble, Child. In fact, we was all talking later about how surprising it was none of
us
thought to take them slippers down with tea. Suppose it needs a person looking in from the outside to see things clear sometimes.”

“Your daughter looked very beautiful. Was it a lovely wedding, Mary Alice, Ma'am?”

“Yes it was. And she did look beautiful, didn't she?” Mary Alice coughed so she would not cry. “Can't believe she's gone. Can't believe how fast the years passed. I look at my hands and I see them wiping carrot mash off my baby girl's face. I can't believe she's married now. Can't believe it won't be long before she has a child of her own and she looks down at her hands, and sees mine. Wish she was small for just one more day, so I could hold her like I used to, so she'd need me like she used to.”

Addy sipped some of the steaming coffee and said nothing, for all she wanted herself was to hold her own baby and to be held by her own Mama. She wondered if Willow had told her daughter-in-law her story, or at least what Willow knew of her story, but dared not ask.

“You can't stay here, Child,” Mary Alice said evenly.

Addy looked at her, thinking she had not heard right. “Ma'am?”

“Not even for one night.”

Addy nodded and did not know what to do except rise and look for her coat.

“Sit down, Adelaide. That's your name, Adelaide?”

She nodded. “Addy.”

“Sit down, Addy. I want to explain it, because I'm surely grateful for what you did yesterday. No telling where Olivia's drama might have ended. I believe you changed the course of the whole wedding.”

“I only took the white out her slippers.”

Mary Alice took another sip of coffee and did not look
at Addy directly. “Willow told me about your recent troubles. I feel sorry for you. I really do. I came to see you yesterday but you were fast asleep.”

Addy could see now that Mary Alice was older than she first appeared. Closer to her own mother's age than hers, but still much younger-looking than Hamond. It suddenly occurred to Addy. “
You
brought the food?”

“My mother-in-law is a good person but she does get to telling folks how it is. In the meantime she misplaces how it
really
is and what she ought to be doing about it. I asked her who you were and she told me about the man on the train, and I asked her where you were and she said she thought she'd seen you helping some of the ladies in the church kitchen. I knew by watching you yesterday you wouldn't be comfortable just coming along to the church and I guessed you were still back here. I guessed right you hadn't had much to eat.”

Addy shook her head. “Thank you, Ma'am. It was one of the best suppers I ever took in my life.”

Mary Alice nodded and cleared her throat. “I'm sorry for what I'm about to tell you, but let me just say it plain. See, Addy, my husband, Hamond, is a good man. But he walks in his Daddy's shoes and Willow knows all about that. It's in his nature and I knew it when we wed. I don't mind so much, long as he tells me who she was and who else knows, so I don't seem a fool if it ever comes up outside the home.”

The coffee was strong and Addy was awake, but she still could not believe she was hearing right. Was Mary
Alice saying that Hamond was unfaithful? Addy looked away. “I'm sorry to know, Ma'am.”

“Like I say, I really don't mind so much. Not a blessed thing I could do if I did. It's just that Hamond's father went away with one of his women and never was seen again. I still got two small boys to grow here and I'm not about to have my man run off with a girl younger than my daughter.”