The Skye in June (16 page)

“Oh, God, t
his’ll kill Jimmy,” Cathy said, wringing her hands. Her blue eyes looked like a frightened child’s. “I just want to sleep now. Please,” she said in a tiny voice.

Mrs. G rose to help Cathy out of the chair and toward the comfort of the bed. When she came back to the living room, she held June
’s blue wool tartan coat and a matching cap.

“
We must go,” she said, cupping the girl’s cheeks in her hands. “Don’t share her pain so much, little one.”

They left
, walking hand-in-hand through the cold winter drizzle to retrieve June’s sisters.

At the school, Mother Superior patted the old woman’s dry veined hand and told her that she “would offer up prayers for the deceased and the family.” Mrs. G silenced further conversation with a small gesture of her hand when the MacDonald girls began trailing into the office.

On the walk home, Mrs. G lagged behind while the girls huddled together in front, whispering to each other and trying to guess what could ha
ve happened at home. Maggie guessed that their mother had lost another baby. Mary wanted to know how babies get lost. Annie changed the subject and said, confidently, “Maybe Granda and Granny came for a surprise visit from Scotland and nothing bad thing happened.”

June bit her tongue, wanting to keep her promise to Mrs. G, who told her the news should wait until their father got home.

When the group came to the gas station on the corner of Market Street, the girls rifled through their pockets in hopes of coming up with fifteen cents for a soda pop. Their mother would often let them stop at the station to buy cold drinks from the machine. But Mrs. G kept them moving, not hesitating at their unhappy protests. As they approached their building they saw Uncle Sandy’s car parked in front.

The girls rushed up the stairs and found their father sitting in the living room with tears pouring down his face. Only on
ce before had they seen him cry, and that was at Helen’s funeral, when he had shed silent tears.

Seeing his girls, he quickly held up a large white handkerchief to his mouth to muffle his sobs. Uncle Sandy came down the hallway from the kitchen
, holding two tall glasses of whiskey and said, “Girls, go to your room and be quiet.”

The four sisters sat in their room without making a sound, eyeing each other to see who would be the first to speculate what the problem could be.

Maggie said, shivering,
“I got the willies. Someone walked over my grave,” which started Mary wailing. She rushed to the bedroom door, threw it open and ran down the hall screaming, “Mommy! Mommy!” Uncle Sandy caught her around the waist and carried her back to her bedroom. “Wheesht now hen, your mother’s sleeping.”

The hysterical girl couldn
’t be calmed and demanded to see her mother.

“
Is our mother okay?” Annie asked.

“
Aye. Everything’s just fine. Don’t worry.” Sandy’s soothing manner seemed to reassure the frightened children.

The girls stayed silent after Sandy closed their bedroom door. Annie handed Mary a hankie to wipe her eyes.

“I think Mommy’s really sick. Maybe it’s something horrible,” Maggie said shuddering dramatically.

Unable to keep her word any longer, June sputtered out that Granda B was now with Helen and Baby Kit.

“No!” Mary protested, her lip quivering.

“
It’s true. I heard Mommy tell Mrs. G,” June said as she sat down in front of the altar.

Annie knelt next to her and beckoned the other sisters to join them.
“Let’s say a prayer to Our Lady,” she said.

June held out both her hands, palms up.
“Let’s hold hands so we can talk to Granda B. Mrs. G and her daughter do it like that when they talk to their dead people.”

Annie looked apprehensively at her little sister
’s eager face. “I don’t know if that’s okay for Catholics to do. Besides, I think it’d be too scary talking to dead people.”

“
No, it’s not. It’s fun,” said June.

“
Let’s say prayers instead, okay?” Annie suggested.

“
If it’s for Granda, we should have a picture of him, like we have for our dead sisters,” Maggie said.

“
There’s a picture of him in the living room on the mantle,” Mary said, before breaking into more tears.

Maggie hugged her sister tightly.
Annie sniffled back tears. June came up with the idea of grabbing the photo from the living room.

The girls agreed they needed to do something special for Granda, although they also agreed that they didn
’t want to disobey for fear of getting a smacking.

A plan was hatched. Maggie was to lure their father and Uncle Sandy into the kitchen on the other end of the flat. Her pretext was that she and her sisters were hungry, which was true. When the three walked past the bedroom and were in the kitchen, June would sneak down to the living room and grab the photo. Mary offered to go along since June couldn
’t reach the photo on the fireplace mantle. Annie’s job was to keep watch and if necessary, detain the men if they returned too early to the front of the flat. 

The deep rumble of the men
’s voices could be plainly heard down the hallway and through the small opening of the girls’ bedroom door.

“
Willie Buchanan was like a father to me,” Jimmy said solemnly.

“
Och, aye, Jimmy. There’s no many like him,” Sandy answered.

The men were standing right in front of the door. As their voices grew louder, the girls pulled back a bit and held their breaths.

“It’s a
sair fecht
,” Jimmy sighed.

“It is that. A bloody sore thought, Sandy said. “
If it wasn’t for Willie, I’d never have come to America. He said being a Catholic, it’d be a better life here.”

“
Wish I could go home to Scotland,” Jimmy said.

“
Me, too,” Annie said gloomily as she leaned against the bedroom door. June wanted to say that she couldn’t go to Scotland because the family needed her here.

The men
’s voices faded away into the kitchen. The last voice heard was Sandy’s. “Nancy’s on her way to help with the girls.” 

Maggie, who was following behind the men, gave the door a quick rap, signaling the coast was clear.

When Maggie closed the kitchen door, Mary and June slipped out and crept toward the front of the flat, trying hard to suppress their nervous giggles.

Although the early winter darkness had crept into the living room, they decided not to brighten it up by switching on a lamp, which would draw attention. Luckily, the streetlights suddenly snapped on, shining some light for them. The streetcar clang
ed past and a horn blared. June walked to the bay windows and leaned her head against the frame to look down onto Market Street, which was now busy with people arriving home from work. Large raindrops rolled, one after another, down the windowpanes and onto the scurrying crowd below. Hypnotized by the scene, June became lost, thinking about the ant colony in the yard.

“
Neato, skeeto, I got it!” Mary hopped off the arm of the big chair with a frame in her hand. She handed June the old grainy black-and-white photo of Granda and Granny B on their wedding day. Granda B, a handsome, tall, lean man with a full head of dark curly hair, reminded June of Maggie, with his slanted eyes and toothy grin. Granny B, holding a bouquet of roses, was dressed in an ankle-length wedding gown with her hair tucked up under a long, laced veil. With her eyes wide and full lips closed, she seemed to be shyly looking out at the girls.

“
Looks like mommy, huh?” Mary said.

“
Take the other one, too.” June pointed to the black-and-white photo of Cathy in her mid-teens, linked arm-in-arm with Granda B in a summer garden. Both were smiling broadly.

A yellow cab stopping in front of the flat caught June
’s attention. She pressed her face against the cold glass to get a better view. A tall, heavy woman in a dark coat exited the cab.

“She’s here!” June called out warningly.

“
Let’s scram!” Mary bolted down the hallway with June at her heels.

A moment later the doorbell
’s loud buzz was heard. Annie opened the bedroom door a slit and June knelt beneath her to peek out just as Sandy trotted past toward the front door. They heard him greet his wife cheerfully, and watched as she passed by with a full paper bag. Uncle Sandy, holding two more bags, stopped at the girls’ door and tapped on it lightly. “Come say hello to Auntie Nancy.”

The girls disliked her as much as they disliked Mark. They wished they didn
’t have to call her auntie, as their parents had instructed them to do.

“
Did she bring the brat?” Maggie asked in a low voice.

The pungent aroma of simmering garlic, spices, and tomatoes filled the flat, creating an illusion of a warm home. Sandy breathed in the fragrances with hungry pleasure. He often boasted to Jimmy about his wife’s delicious Italian cooking.

“I thank God every day that
she married me,” he said.

The girls were sprawled across the carpet watching
“The Lone Ranger.” Uncle Sandy had invited them out of their room to watch television while Aunt Nancy made dinner.

“
Dinner!” Nancy’s voice boomed down the hallway.

Sandy picked up Jimmy
’s empty glass and trying to sound upbeat, said, “Let’s get some food.”

“
Oh, man, I can’t eat.” Jimmy’s voice slurred as his head lolled onto the overstuffed chair.

His daughters eyed him cautiously. They knew his mood could quickly change when he was drunk. June sensed her father
’s mood growing darker and turned down the television just as Tonto galloped away from the bad guys.

“
The girls, Jimmy. They need to eat and get to bed. For their sakes please,” Sandy said kindly, trying to get Jimmy to come to the dinner table.

“
You go. I’ll see if Cathy wants anything.” Jimmy stumbled off to their bedroom.

Dinner was solemn, even though Auntie Nancy made the girls her delicious spaghetti, the dish they always raved about when they ate dinner at her house. The pasta dish was something the girls had never experienced in their Scottish household.

Mary, who always ate heartily, sat with the others at the table with her head down, unable to eat.

Maggie whispered to Annie,
“Good thing they didn’t bring the brat.” Her sister just stared at the wall with her thin lips closed tight. Only June, enjoying the buttery garlic bread, laughed at Maggie’s remark.

When her sisters left the table, June stayed behind to have another piece of bread. Sandy and Nancy talked in hushed tones about Granda B
’s passing.

“
I still feel guilty, though, you know. I brought them bad luck,” Sandy said.

“
Oh, honey. Don’t be silly. It was his time. He was an old man.” Nancy gave Sandy a peck on the cheek.

“
The family told Cathy to not bother coming home. Oh well, perhaps it’s for the best. She’s needed here,” Sandy said.

His wife remarked that Cathy was of no use to her family lying in bed with the curtains drawn and refusing food.

“And, that one. . .” Nancy nodded at June. “Making up stories about her grandfather coming to see them at the New Year’s party. They ought to spank her for telling lies.”

June munched
away on her bread as she thought about how to get even with Nancy for speaking badly about her mother. Maybe she’d tell her that Mark called her a big mean monster.

Satisfied with her last bite, the grateful child thanked the cook and said,
“Granda’s with my dead sisters and my angel. I can talk to them. Want to learn how?”

Auntie Nancy shushed her and warned her to stop saying naughty things.

Before going to bed, the girls decided to do what June had suggested. They lit the candles that were hidden under the bed with the matches Mary had snuck into the bedroom. Annie told her sisters to get their rosary beads.
“We’ll put them in the middle so Our Lady will help us talk with Granda,” she said.

Maggie and Mary pulled the altar out into the middle of the room so they all could sit around it and hold each other
’s hands. With eyes closed, it was Annie who asked for Granda B to give them a message. Mary started to sniff back tears.

Just then June saw a white energy spark around the altar.
“Granda is here!” she said excitedly.

Her sisters shivered. Although they couldn
’t feel him, they believed their little sister. They all said, “I love you, Granda.”

* * * * *

Chapter 17

H
OPES AND FEARS