The Hull Home Fire (14 page)

“I’ve made the rounds there.” Henry chewed the crusty toast. “They don’t want
to take on someone who’ll only be around a short while.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“Bill says he’ll put in a word for me at the dock.”

Tom’s lower lip twitched. “Good old Bill should mind his own business.”

“He was against the idea, but I insisted. Besides, it’ll only be
temporary.”

Tom pushed his plate away and leaned across the table, almost reaching his son.
“Listen here, Henry. No one was happier than me when you didn’t show any
interest in the docks. Unloading cargo ships is godawful hard, not to mention
dangerous work.”

“But Dad — ”

“Listen, Henry. Accidents happen on a weekly basis. Look
at
me.” He stared down at his feet. “I’d be dead if it wasn’t for my war training.
It’s no place for a man with an education or one who has a grain of
sense.”

“Dad, you finished high school. Not too many of your generation accomplished
that. Yet you gave up an office job at the butter factory for the docks.”

“A move I’ve regretted ever since.”

“Then why did you leave ?”

“Your mother asked me that same question after we were married.” Tom became
quiet, mulling the answer over in his mind. “I was young, just back from a
horrible war... and I was alone. All my buddies worked at the docks. I reckon I
needed to be with them.”

You still miss your brother, Henry thought. And you’re too proud to admit it or
to forgive him.

Tom handed his cup to Henry for a refill. “If I’d met your mother earlier,” he
said, “she would’ve knocked some sense into me.” Tom stared at his son. “You’ll
be gone in a couple of months, won’t you ?”

DOUGIE SKIPPED THE SHORT DISTANCE
from the sidewalk to the Gibbs
house, the first stop on his delivery route with the
Daily News
. He
whistled “All Around the Circle,” his head bobbing to the tune. Snow fell as it
had all during the night. The white flakes covered his dark lashes and the blond
hair poking out from the wool cap knitted by Dot a month earlier. His footprints
had become faint indentations, soon to be obliterated. He rolled up the
newspaper and was about to shove it through the mail slot when the door
opened.

“Thought I heard you,” Henry said. “Right on time, too.”

“I have to be.” Dougie passed over the paper. “Mom would kill me if I was late
for school.”

Henry looked down at his slippers, the toes covered in snow, and stepped back.
He turned his eyes to the banks crowding the sidewalk. “I don’t know where
they’re going to put all this new white stuff.”

“Dump it into the harbour, I suppose,” Dougie said in a singsong voice. Snow
gathered on the bag slung across his chest.

“What are you so chipper about this early in the day ?”

Dougie stuck out his tongue and caught a flake. “Mary’s coming home today. I
can’t wait.”

Henry’s heart pumped a little faster. “Your mother must be relieved,” he
said.

“She sure is,” Dougie said with a broad smile which immediately changed to a
puzzled expression. “Henry, how come you only went to visit Mary before she woke
up ?”

Henry beat his arms and stamped his feet to keep warm. “Boy, it’s enough to
skin you out,” he said, stalling for time. “The hospital is pretty strict about
the number of visitors in the room at one time. Your mother wanted to spend as
much time with Mary as possible.”

Dougie considered the explanation, a finger to his chin. A smile brightened his
face once more. “You’ll get to see her plenty when she’s home.”

No I won’t, Henry thought.

“You all right ?” Dougie said. “You have a funny look on your face all of a
sudden.”

“Froze to death, that’s all. I’d better get inside.”

Dougie swiped away clumps of snow from the bag with a gloved hand. “See you
later,” he said, and whistled “All Around the Circle” as he walked away.

What I wouldn’t give to be happy and worry-free like you right now, Henry
thought, and closed the door. He went to the kitchen and reported the good news
to his parents.

“That’s grand,” Alice said. “Poor Mary nearly perished in the fire and her
father doesn’t know a thing about it. Such a tragedy.”

“Serves Charlie right,” Tom grumbled. “What kind of man runs out on his wife
and two small children ?”

“You grew up with him, Dad,” Henry said. “Did you think he was
capable of that ?”

“Not at first. But you don’t know about a man until he’s tested.”

Alice stacked plates in the dishpan. “Thank heavens Mary will make a full
recovery,” she said. “The darling girl is due some good luck.”

Henry ripped apart a slice of ham. “Mary never talks about her father. Not even
when he first took off.”

“Can’t say as I blame her,” Tom said. “No father has the right to hurt his
family the way Charlie did.”

FLORA HELPED MARY WITH HER
coat, taking care with her broken
shoulder. “Does that hurt ?” she said.

“Not too bad,” Mary said. Her voice sounded weak.

Flora dressed her daughter with hat, scarf, and gloves like she was a small
child. “You can’t afford to catch a cold.”

Mary dragged the scarf down from her mouth. “I’m smothering, Mom.”

Flora took the small suitcase, which held Mary’s toothbrush and nightgowns,
from the bed. “I called a taxi before I came up.”

Nurse Dwyer came into the room with a wheelchair. “Into the chair with you,
young woman,” she said. “Let’s not keep the driver waiting.”

Mary started for the door. “I can walk.”

“Indeed you won’t, my girl.” The nurse pushed the wheelchair behind Mary. “I’m
the boss around here.” There was no teasing evident in her voice. “You’ll be
dead on your feet before you reach the end of the hall. Get your bottom in this
right now.”

Mary glanced at her mother. Flora shrugged, a slight smirk
playing around the corners of her mouth. “I am a little tired,” Mary said, and
obeyed the order.

No one spoke on the elevator or on the brief walk to the exit.

Nurse Dwyer wheeled Mary outside, even though she hadn’t put a coat on over her
uniform. “You take care of yourself,” she said softly. “We don’t want to see you
back here as a patient anytime soon.”

“I will. Thank you,” Mary said as she climbed into the taxi.

The nurse waved as the car drove away. The tail of her white uniform flapped
around her thick legs.

Mary rested her cheek against the cold window. “Nothing’s the same anymore,”
she murmured. “Mrs. Gatherall is gone. And all the other lovely residents. Look
at what’s happened to me.” The taxi skidded halfway down the road and spun
around.

Flora grabbed Mary. “Please God we’ll make it home in one piece,” she said,
shielding her daughter with her body. A small car swerved to the right to avoid
a collision and plunged into a snowbank.

The taxi slid to a stop, facing the right direction. “It’s all right, ladies,”
the driver said, flipping off his hat to wipe his forehead. “I got her under
control.” The small car safely disengaged from the snowbank and drove past the
taxi. “That’s a daily occurrence this winter,” the driver said. “It takes a year
off my life every time.”

The taxi turned a corner at the top of Springdale Street. The last remains of
Hull Home beckoned to Mary. Look at me, it seemed to call out. I’m still
standing. She turned to her mother. “Why can’t this all be a horrible
dream ?”

Flora searched for a comforting word. None came.

The car continued to the end of the road, turned right, then
left, and stopped in front of the Norris house. Mary fumbled with the handle.
“I’ll get that, miss,” the driver said, reaching back.

“I can do it,” Mary said, and pushed the door open. She slipped on hidden ice.
“Shit,” she muttered. Her injured shoulder whacked the side of the car. She bit
down on her lip, drawing blood.

Flora paid the fare and rushed to her daughter.

Dougie flew out of the house. “Mary,” he called, running toward her with open
arms. “I missed you an awful lot.”

“Me, too. It’s good to be...” She paused to catch her breath “... out of the
hospital.”

“Mind her bad shoulder,” Flora said as Dougie went to hug Mary.

He stared at her drawn face. “Why do you look so sad ?”

“Mary’s worn out from the drive home,” Flora said. “This is the first time
she’s been out of bed in days. Let’s get her inside so she can lie down.”

Dougie held the door open for them. “I have milk heating on the stove to make
cocoa for us,” he said.

Mary smiled. Her sunken cheeks hardly moved. “You’re a good brother,” she said,
and made her way to the couch, panting slightly. Flora carried Mary’s overnight
bag to her room.

“Mom said you’ll breathe funny until your lungs are completely healed.
Right ?”

Mary nodded. “I’ll be up and about in no time.” She held the arm of the couch
with a hand to help herself sit down.

“Want me to go tell Henry you’re home ?” Dougie asked.

Mary smothered a scream. She looked at Dougie’s face, alive, happy. Her anger
dissolved. “Maybe later,” she said. “After I’ve rested.”

Dougie fluffed two pillows behind her back and spread a quilt
over her legs. Flora brought in a tray loaded with three steaming mugs, cheese
sandwiches, and raisin tea buns. “Eat up, Dougie,” she said. “You don’t want to
be late for school.”

He grabbed a sandwich and a mug. “There’s some man coming after dinner to talk
about what will become of Newfoundland if Canada takes us over.” Dougie stuffed
half of the sandwich into his mouth. “Brother Gabriel says Confederation will
cause us to lose our unique Irish culture.”

“Unique culture,” Flora said. “That’s what we’re afraid of throwing away. It’s
all anyone talks about since this Confederation debate started.”

Mary held her cocoa between her hands. She hadn’t touched a drop.

“Drink up while it’s still hot,” Flora said.

Mary’s lips had barely touched the rim when she lowered the mug back to her
lap.

Dougie’s eyes shone like an animal caught in a snare. “Mary, you didn’t even
taste any. Are... are you still sick ?”

“The cocoa’s too hot,” she said, blowing across the top. She took a sip.
“That’s much better.”

Dougie’s grin returned in full force. “Good. I was some scared you’d never come
home again.”

“Off to school with you, my boy,” Flora said. “I don’t want to hear tell
Brother Gabriel brought out the belt for you being late.”

Dougie hopped up from the armchair. “See ya when I get home, Mary.” Halfway
across the room, he turned back to his sister. “You’re really all right ?”

“Go,” Flora said, and waited until her son was out the door to speak again.
“Love, is there anything I can do to make you feel better ?”

Mary massaged a spot over her right eye. “I know Dougie senses
that I’m not all right, Mom. I really did try to hide it from him.”

“You’re the one I’m worried about at the moment.” Flora took the cocoa from
Mary. “You have a headache, don’t you ?”

“It’s the worst one yet.” Bile gushed up. Mary kicked off the quilt and tried
to stand up. “I’m going to be sick.”

“Stay put,” Flora said, and ran to the kitchen for a bucket.

The bile stung the back of Mary’s throat. She swallowed, the sour taste
spilling into her nose. She covered her mouth as another wave rumbled through
her stomach. “Hurry, Mom.” She sat on the edge of the couch, hunched over, every
inch of her shaking. A succession of sharp jabs seared through her broken
shoulder.

“Here you go,” Flora said, placing a bucket at her daughter’s feet and a glass
of cold water on the coffee table. She held Mary’s hair out of her eyes while
she threw up, cleaning her face with a wet face cloth at each short-lived
reprieve.

“My chest feels like it’s on fire,” Mary said when her stomach calmed down. She
lay back against the pillows. “I’m some glad Dougie...” She hiccupped. “...
wasn’t here to see that.” The rapid drumming in her chest was slowly returning
to a normal rate. “He’s worried enough as it is.”

Flora sat down on the coffee table and gave Mary a reassuring smile. “The
headaches will get less and less as your time approaches. I went through the
same when I carried you and Dougie.”

Mary drank the water, each drop cooling the flames scorching her throat and
stomach. “Mom, I didn’t mean to bring shame on you and Dougie.”

“I don’t want to hear any more silly talk like that. A baby is a precious gift.
Yours in particular.”

Mary’s eyes watered. “Why mine ?”

“The doctor said it was a miracle you didn’t lose the child. That should tell
you something.”

Mary rested her bruised shoulder against the side of the couch. “I still don’t
want Henry to know.”

Flora folded her hands on her lap.

“Please, Mom. I’ve made up my mind.”

“Have you really given any consideration to how Henry feels ? He doesn’t know
about the baby. Has he walked away despite every effort on your part to
encourage him ?” Flora paused briefly. “There’s a little tidbit you should know.
He went to the hospital numerous times to sit with you, praying you would wake
up and be all right.” Flora caressed Mary’s cheek. “He loves you, my sweet girl.
That’s why you should tell him he’s going to be a father.”

Mary moaned. “How can you of all people say that ?”

Flora smiled. “I’ll always do right by you, Mary.”

A FLOOD OF COLD AIR
chilled the room. Mary woke, sat up, and
looked at the clock over the mantel. She had slept for twenty minutes.

“I’m going to be a father.” The voice echoed like a hollow whisper from the
depths of a deep well. It was Henry. Dougie stood behind him.

“Oh, no !” Mary cried.

Flora hurried from the kitchen. “Dougie,” she snapped, “why aren’t you in
school ?”

“I’m not on the pip, Mom. Honest. The Confederation man had to cancel. Brother
Gabriel let us go early.” He looked at Mary. “I saw Henry and told him you were
home.”

“You should’ve kept your big trap shut,” she said, sharply.

Dougie’s mouth dropped open.

Flora went to Dougie and led him by the arm. “Your sister is out of sorts
today. Don’t pay her any heed. Henry and your sister need to talk without us
gawking at them.”

Henry watched them go down the hall to the kitchen before walking into the
room, each step precise, mechanical. “A father,” he said, as if he had no idea
what the phrase meant. “How long have you known ?”

Mary’s headache pounded in her ears. “I saw the doctor just before the
fire.”

“Why didn’t you tell me ?”