Where Trust Lies (9781441265364) (18 page)

W
HEN
B
ETH
AWOKE
THE
NEXT
MORNING
to a cloudy, dripping sky, the ship was already docked in Halifax Harbor. If Jarrick had received the telegram yesterday, this could well be the day he would call. The thought sent a shiver of excitement, as well as apprehension, through her. How would he react?

“Bethie, are you awake?” Julie's sleepy voice mumbled from the other side of the small room.

Beth turned from the window and shot a questioning glance at her sister. Julie had not yet emerged from under her jumble of covers. “Yes, darling. I'm up. And you should be too. Or Mother will be knocking at the door.”

The blankets shifted, but Julie did not appear.

“We're in Halifax. We must have docked during the night.”

“Are we doing another tour? I hope not.”

Beth smiled. “No, sister dear, it's Sunday. We're going to church instead.”

Julie groaned.

“Don't be like that. I know you want to be with your friends. But why don't you invite them along?”

One hand reached out and drew the covers away from her face. “Do you think Monsieur Laurent would let them ride with us?”

“Well, Mother probably would. I'm sure she'd be in favor of them attending with us.”

Bare feet slid out from beneath the blankets to the floor, and Julie rose slowly. “That's a good idea. I'll ask them after we eat.”

For the first time in several days, Margret made an appearance at breakfast. She had dressed for church and seemed determined not to allow any further nausea to keep her in. “I lined the inside of my bag,” she whispered to Beth. “Just in case.”

“Oh, my goodness, I certainly hope you don't need to use it!” Beth clutched at Margret's hand.

“Mercifully, by the time we reach church I should be feeling better. I don't want to miss the service from fear of embarrassment.”

Then a dejected Julie returned. Her invitation had been declined. The travelers made their way to the taxis.

“It's strange,” Beth remarked as she looked at the passing scene. “The trees are all so small here. Monsieur, don't trees grow well in this part of Nova Scotia?”

He turned to answer, a serious expression on his face. “Oh, no, miss, that is not the case. But I applaud your attentiveness. What you've noticed is due to the massive explosion in Halifax Harbor during the war.”

“It knocked down all the trees?” Beth had been in her teen years when she'd heard of the calamity. She couldn't imagine such an event.

Monsieur Laurent nodded. “It leveled almost everything in
this part of the city, blowing out windows for miles in every direction. The shock wave from the blast was felt as far away as Cape Breton and Prince Edward Island. Much of what you saw near the harbor is new construction. And though the city is working hard to rebuild itself, the sad truth is that the vacant lots we're passing now once held thriving businesses.”

All of this
area laid waste! Those poor people!
Beth silently mourned.

Mother said, “Oh, gracious, I can't even imagine. It was caused by a collision of ships, was it not, Monsieur Laurent?”

“Yes. One was loaded heavily with explosives, destined for the war. When the two collided, a fire resulted on board which spread very quickly, detonating its cargo all at once.”

“I remember reading about it in the newspaper,” Mother said.

“Yes, madame. Sadly there were thousands of dead and wounded. My son Henri passed through the harbor not long afterward. He could scarcely put words to the devastation he saw. But much progress has been made since—a great deal more than when I was last here.” He turned his face away, his voice trailing off a little. “But God is good. He can restore. It's what He does so masterfully. The new green growth for now . . . and one day, even loved ones who have been taken from this world.”

“Amen,” Beth whispered softly.

The small church the families visited had clear glass windows, though the photograph displayed in the foyer showed the lovely stained glass which had once been. There was a box set beneath the photo for donations to replace what had been destroyed.

The faithful devotion of these people was more compelling to Beth's heart than the message from the pulpit. As Beth
filed out behind her family, she dropped what money she had into the collection box. She noticed that Mother and Mrs. Montclair had done the same. Even Monsieur Laurent had made a point of contributing something.

“Bethie, sit down.” Julie had already complained several times, although Beth had no idea why her movement seemed to matter so much. “You're making me dizzy.”

There was little for Beth to do but pace around the hotel room. Reading had become impossible as she waited. Victoria's violin was heard from the bedroom next door. Though she played beautifully, Beth wondered if perhaps the sound was what was taxing her sister's patience.

“Want to play mahjong, Julie?”

“No.”

“How about chess? I saw a set in the parlor.”

“No—you know I can never beat you.”

“You might if you didn't give up halfway through.” Beth shook her head. “Checkers then? What about that?”

Julie lifted her head from the small canvas in front of her. “If I could just get some peace and quiet, please. I'd like to finish this lighthouse. Isn't that what you've been pestering me to do? How can you nag me now while I'm working?” She shook her head, but looked only mildly annoyed. She clearly did enjoy painting.

Beth dropped onto the bed. It was already well past two. She had visited the front desk enough times that she knew they were starting to be perturbed. She stretched out across the bedspread and stared up at the ceiling.

Giving up at last on remaining in their room, she descended again to the lobby alone, taking a seat near the win
dow. Shortly after four o'clock she heard the page's voice. “Miss Elizabeth Thatcher, there is a call holding for you at the front desk.”

Beth bolted from her seat, almost knocking into the young man approaching her. He pointed at the small room off to the side of the lobby in which a telephone waited on a small desk with a wooden chair drawn up beside it. Beth closed the narrow door and lowered herself onto the seat, grateful for the unexpected privacy.

Lifting the receiver, she spoke breathlessly, “Jarrick?”

“Yes, Beth, it's Jarrick. I got your telegram. Is something wrong?”

“No, there's nothing wrong. It's just—I've been—that is, we have been discussing things, and . . .” The carefully planned speech had already evaporated from her mind. “It's been so hard to reach you. We weren't really able to talk back in Charlottetown. And then Mother . . . well, she began asking questions that I couldn't answer. I so badly wanted to speak with you.” Beth's faith in her own judgment was wavering.

“I see.”

“I hope you don't mind. I knew a letter would take so long.”

“But, Beth, it's just that . . . I was worried when I read your telegram. I thought maybe there was a problem.”

Beth coiled the telephone cord around her finger. “Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to worry you. I just thought I'd speed up the process a little—for Mother's sake. And mine too.”

“I was away from our post here. They told me about your telegram when I radioed in. So I drove back out to Lethbridge this morning to speak with you.”

Beth felt herself go weak. “Oh, Jarrick, I'm so sorry. I had no idea it would cause problems for you. I'm very, very sorry! I don't even know what to say.” The words were choked by
her regret and humiliation.
So Mother was right
after all! This is a mistake.

The sound of Jarrick clearing his throat crossed the hundreds of miles of telephone line until it resounded in Beth's ear. His words came gently. “It's all right, Beth. I'm just relieved there's nothing wrong—and, well, it's worth the trip just to hear your voice again. I was disappointed too about our last conversation being over all too soon. I had so much more I wanted to say.”

“Can you ever forgive me?”

“Really, there's nothing to forgive.” An awful pause lingered between them before he took charge. “How is Halifax?”

Beth tried to laugh but it sounded rather hollow. “It's fine. It's nice. We saw a great deal of evidence of the explosion, but the city seems to be recovering quickly . . .” Then she stopped, repeating once again, “Jarrick, I truly am sorry.”

“Please don't mention it at all. I know you'd be the last person on earth to deliberately put someone out. You're considerate to a fault, Beth. Please, let's just forget all about that now and enjoy the time we have to talk. Who knows when we'll get the chance again?”

“Thank you. You're very kind.”

They chatted awkwardly for a few moments about the places the vacationers had seen most recently, and Jarrick explained some of the work that had been keeping him so busy. Beth felt herself grimace as he described how frequently he was required to travel through his large posting.

At last he seemed to remember the urgency in her message. “You said your Mother had questions. I can only assume they were about me. What is it that she would like to know?”

“It's really not that important now,” Beth said.

“If not now, then when?”

Taking a deep breath, Beth steeled herself. She had made such a mess of it, and this was very different from the way she had envisioned the conversation. “Well, for starters, I suppose I should know how old you are.”

He laughed. “Yes, I guess you should. I'm twenty-nine. My birthday is in December.”

“I was in Coal Valley last December,” Beth argued. “I don't remember anyone mentioning that.”

“I wasn't around on the third. And I wasn't looking for a lot of attention given it anyway.”

“December third.” Beth made a mental note. “And if you're almost thirty—”

“Thanks a lot!” he interrupted in a wry tone. “There's no need for you to take a shot at me in the process.”

Beth giggled. “All right then, if you're as young as twenty-nine, Mother wondered if you had served in the war.”

There was a pause. When he spoke again, his voice had turned serious. “Well, I wanted to enlist. It was a pretty big issue between my dad and me. He put a great deal of pressure on me not to go unless I was drafted—told me to pray that God would make the decision for us both. I watched one of my brothers and many of my friends get called up and, I assure you, I felt like a washout not joining them. My notice didn't come until near the very end. I only completed a little basic training, and then the armistice was reached. My mother was overjoyed. But I've always felt it wasn't fair somehow. Like I hadn't done my duty.”

Beth realized that Mother had been right. The information added a whole new layer to the image she had formed of Jarrick in her mind. She was grateful too that he had been spared, yet proud of him for wanting to help protect his country.

“You don't need to feel that way,” she reassured him softly.
“You honored your father's wishes—that was the right thing to do. And besides,” she added, “you're serving your country now.”

“I certainly hope so.”

A question occurred to Beth. “Then what did your father think when you chose to become a Mountie?”

“He wasn't very pleased at first, especially when he realized I'd likely be sent to the West. He'd been working to get the farm going while pastoring too. He really wanted his grown sons to stay close, to share in the work and the benefits.”

“Oh, dear. I know how that feels—parents who have their own plan in mind. Believe me, I do.”

For some time they shared questions back and forth about their lives before Coal Valley. Jarrick was very surprised to hear of Beth's childhood health issues, and she was pleased to add further to information that might help put Mother at ease—particularly that he had not courted a woman previously, having been too single-minded about his career.

“It sounds as if you have a very close-knit family,” Beth marveled. “Your stories remind me of the gatherings at my grandpapa's, though we were able to get together far less frequently than your family. Those times are such special memories to me.”

“I don't want to give the impression that my family is perfect, Beth. Or that we always got along well. I think we focus on what we choose, and we minimize what we purposely decide to overlook. For instance, I could have told you some of the not-so-pleasant things that some of my family members would likely have started with. My cousin who just says aloud whatever she's feeling, no matter who might be listening. My uncle who's pretty harsh with his sons and sometimes his nephews too. My very competitive older brother. I could go
on. I think we all have something in our characters that can make us difficult to endure at times. And our families always have a front-row seat for all of our quirks and foibles.”