Amazing Grace (20 page)

“A son.”

“Funny we haven't bumped into each other.”

“I've been out east mostly.”

Eventually we decide we both need a smoke, and then we need a drink, so we hop down to a local bar and sit in a corner. One beer leads to two, which leads to three, and now I have the courage to ask her questions.

“When we were at the camp, did the man ever sexually abuse you?”

Helen's eyes turn dark. “Yes. Did he do it to you, too?”

“To me and my sister.”

“I was terrified of him. He'd just look at me and I'd cry, but he'd do it anyway.”

“I'm sorry, Helen.”

“When I listen to other kids talk about their childhood it makes me sad.” Helen takes a gulp of her beer. “I don't ever remember having fun, except when we were together in the treehouse. It was so stressful all the time, waiting for someone to slap you or yell at you for displeasing God. I haven't darkened the door of a church since.”

“Why did our mothers go with the man? Is he our father? Oh god, I hope not. That thought is worse than anything else.” I shudder with a cold chill that sneaks up my spine.

“He wasn't my dad. Mom told me my father walked out on her before she went to the compound. I doubt he was yours. You look nothing like him.”

“I don't think so either. But what was wrong with our mothers? They had to be crazy, or doped to the eyeballs. When they describe cults on television, I know that's exactly what we were in. Those women were brainwashed.”

The two of us nod sadly at each other.

“Do you ever see your mom now?” I ask Helen.

“Not very often. She's always looking for a handout. She's got arthritis and claims she can't get around, but she's off to the liquor store often enough when it suits her. I'm much better off without her. I have enough problems of my own.”

“Is there any chance that you know where the man is?” I didn't even know I was going to ask this question. I blurted it out without thinking.

Helen looks surprised. “Why would you want to see him again?”

“I want to ask him if he knows where my mother is. And my sister.”

“The stupid bastard probably wouldn't tell you anyway.”

“I want him to know that he didn't break me.”

“I can ask around, but don't get your hopes up.”

We promise to see each other again. When I get back to my room, I fall across the bed and sleep straight through until the next afternoon. Just knowing that Helen is happy to see me makes me feel a thousand percent better about everything. I have a friend and I don't intend to lose her again.

We meet regularly. I'm introduced to her daughter. She's a sickly little thing, her nose always running, with a hacking cough. I worry about her but Helen says she's fine, that's she allergic to lots of things. I'm not fond of the roommate. She looks like a hard character, but she's out most of the time. Fortunately Helen never asks me probing questions about my life; she's an easy friend. Not someone who's out for anything. But in the end she does give me something I was looking for.

She calls me. “I probably shouldn't tell you this, but I found Ed Wheeler. He lives in a ramshackle place on the eastern side of town, near the Esso station. People mostly leave him alone. They say he's nuts. There's no way you should go near this guy, Grace. Please don't.”

“Don't worry, Helen. I probably won't. Thanks.”

I go looking for him. I find his place quite easily and park on the other side of the road, and watch for a few hours. There's never anyone around. It becomes a bit of a ritual. If I'm driving by that way, I'll stop and check to see if there's any movement. In the end I think that maybe Helen's information is old. It doesn't look like anyone lives here anymore.

Fed up with getting no results, I step out of the car one day and walk right up on his property. It's overgrown and desolate, garbage strewn from one end of the lawn to the other, a rank smell permeating everything.

This is the perfect depiction of his soul.

I turn to leave and a movement behind the curtain in the window catches my eye. He's definitely in there. He's afraid of who I am, or what I represent. I go right up to his door and pound on it.

“Ed Wheeler! I know you're in there. Come out right now.”

Nothing.

“Ed! I want to speak to you. It's about the camp on the Wainwright property. I have some information for you regarding some money you may be owed. By an insurance company.”

“I don't believe you,” he shouts from inside.

“Suit yourself.” I call his bluff and walk back across the lawn towards my car.

“Hey, you!” He stands on his porch in his bare feet. The clothes he's wearing haven't been washed in weeks. Everything about him is yellow, like he's rotting from the inside out. “What money?”

I walk back towards him. There are no thoughts, only feelings churned up from the dark. I go right up to him and hit him as hard as I can right across the face. He howls with surprise and pain and tries to get back into the house, but I grab his shirt and give him an almighty kick, right where it hurts. He drops like a stone and writhes on the ground.

“I am Amazing Grace. Where is my mother, Trixie? Where is Ave Maria? You tell me, old man, or so help me…”

He's crying and can hardly speak. “Who? Who are you?”

“A little girl you raped over and over again because it made you feel powerful and mighty. But look what happened. You're on the floor cowering, just like I used to. Don't you remember, or did you have so many little girls, we just get muddled up in your filthy brain?”

“I don't know who you are! Leave me alone.”

I give him another kick and grab his shirt. “Where is Trixie? The woman you beat every night. Where is she?”

“I don't know…she ran away. I never saw her again.”

“And my sister?”

“I'm telling you I don't know.”

“I'll kick you again, old man.”

He leans upward and looks me in the eye. “I don't know! You have to believe me. I never saw them after the fire.”

“They disappeared years before the fire.”

“They did?”

This man has no brain left. It's been destroyed by perversion and drugs. He'll never be able to tell me anything.

I point my finger in his face. “You are going straight to hell, Ed Wheeler. You have the devil inside you and we all know what happens to evil people. They burn forever. The very thought of it makes me giddy. You tried to destroy me, but you didn't. You tried to possess me but you couldn't. I am the powerful one now. The tables have turned, you creep. You have no one. You are a big nobody. You will never cross my mind again, because I win, you bastard. I win.”

I'm almost across the lawn when he shouts, “They left because they didn't love you. Nobody loves you!”

Don't look back.

As satisfying as it is in the moment to confront Ed Wheeler, his last words manage to hurt me again. Why did I go and see him? There was nothing to be gained by giving him the opportunity to poke me with a stick. My little escapade backfires on me and I get very low.

Helen and her roommate offer me a joint one night and soon I'm getting high most days. I need to forget that my grand plans for finding my family are clearly not progressing. When I'm not at work, I go over to Helen's and sit on her couch just for something to do. While I'm wasted, I love Helen, but when I sober up it bothers me that Helen thinks it's okay to smoke up in front of her little girl. And yet I'm doing it too.

When her daughter stays with her dad, Helen has men over. It becomes a party very quickly. All the guys who show up are loser types. They think I'm a stuck-up bitch. At one point I smoke so much weed that I nod off. When I come to, there's a guy lying on top of me with his hand down my pants and his tongue in my mouth. Instantly, I give him such a shove he lands on the floor, cracking his head on the coffee table as he falls. I stand over him.

“You're a pig. Keep your hands off me.”

I go to leave but he grabs my ankle, causing me to fall to the floor beside him. Then he proceeds to kneel over me and punch me in the face until I can't see because of the blood. Helen is screaming in the background and some guys pull him off me, but the damage is done.

Helen drives to the hospital high, but we get there in one piece. I'm such a bloody mess that they take me right in. My nose is broken and I've fractured my cheekbone. The doctor tells me I could have lost an eye.

When I'm eventually released the next day, my face a swollen wreck, Helen is there. I didn't ask her to pick me up. She must have been hanging around. She tries to hug me.

“I'm sorry, Grace! You'll never see that bastard again. I'll make sure of it.”

“It's not your fault. I'm taking a cab home. I'll call you when I'm better.”

“I can drive you home. You need someone to take care of you!”

Not you, my dear.

“I'll call.”

My manager at work is annoyed that I'm taking a few days off, but he's always annoyed. The phone rings every night; I assume it's Helen. I don't pick up.

While I'm recuperating on my single bed I hear Aunt Pearl's voice. She's disappointed with me. I need to make it right. I'm furious with myself because I'm going downhill and I see that now. There is nothing for me here, but I stay in the boarding house until the worst of the bruising and swelling have gone down. Sitting in silence helps me. It's a little late to plan what I want to be when I grow up, but the times I've had someone to look after have been the most satisfying. To be needed by someone made me feel good inside.

Helen, fed up with not hearing from me, shows up at my door one morning. I invite her in.

“You look much better,” she says. “I was worried. Why didn't you answer the phone?”

“I didn't have the energy to talk.”

“Poor you. Well, once you're better we'll have some good times.”

“I'm leaving, Helen.”

Her face falls. “You are? I'll miss you terribly.”

“And I'll miss you, but I need to get home. We'll stay in touch.”

But we never do. I drive away and never see her again. I love my childhood friend Helen, but not the woman she grew up to be.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

NOW

“Do you mind if I stop to get more coffee?” I get up and start towards the kitchen. Jon is looking at me strangely. “What's wrong?”

“I can't believe you faced the man. Ed Wheeler. How did you get so brave?”

I look out the window before I answer. “It wasn't brave. It was stupid. Anything could've happened. And in the end, he managed to stick the knife in one more time. That eats at me sometimes. Excuse me.”

Linn pours me another cup of coffee while I skedaddle to the bathroom. When I come back to collect my cup, she says, “Is very good thing, Mr. Willingdon listening to you.”

“It is good, isn't it? But it's not over yet, god help me.”

“Then I make lunch for two of you. Need strength.”

“You're a fine woman, Linn.”

She waves her dishtowel at me.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

THEN

Despite telling Helen I'm going home, I have no intention of going back. Not yet. I need to prove that Aunt Pearl's faith in me was not misplaced. I drive to Toronto and with the help of Aunt Pearl's money, enrol in the BScN program at the Lawrence S. Bloomberg Faculty of Nursing at the University of Toronto.

I'm the oldest student in my classes and at first I keep to myself, but over time my peers affectionately begin to call me “Ma'am,” and we get along great. I have too many horror stories to tell these young girls. Nothing about my private life of course, but I've seen enough in my time, and these youngsters are just starting out. I embellish a lot, but they believe everything I say. It's kind of fun.

The other students try to get me to come out with them socially from time to time, but I stay away. I have no interest in foolishness anymore. Everyone must know it, because while I'm counting sheets in the linen closet on the ward one day, two girls pass by and I overhear one of them say, “Ma'am has no life. How does she stand it? She's still so young and pretty.”

That night I go back to my room in the residence and look at myself. I've never thought of myself as pretty. My hazel eyes are noticeable, and my silver hair, but that's it. I look rather humdrum, if you ask me. But obviously I can't help but be flattered. I'm not forty yet. Maybe there is a little life left in me, despite my never-ending sadness over Jonathan.

It's in my second year that one of the residents takes a liking to me. His name is Albert and he's nothing special in the looks department, but he's clever and funny and he manages to bring his cafeteria tray to my table one supper hour, so I can't just jump up and leave. By the time I go back on the floor, we've made plans to go to a Silent Film Festival that weekend.

I haven't laughed like that in years. We have a marvellous time, to the point where we start a popcorn war in one of the theatres and the management escorts us out.

We end up having a bite to eat and when we get in his car at the end of the evening, I look at my watch. “It's getting late. I have an early morning.”

Albert puts his arm across the seat behind my neck. “Please don't go, yet. We're having such a lovely time.”

I smile at him. “Yes, we are. Thank you. It's been ages since I've enjoyed myself this much.”

He reaches over and kisses me and I feel nothing at all. Bloody hell. But I pretend otherwise because I don't want to hurt him.

We date for most of my second year, but in the end, he knows there's something not quite right, and he's the one who ends it. He cries when he does and I feel wretched because he's clearly in love with me. In another world, we might have had a chance. I hope he finds a lovely girl someday because he deserves one.

No family member comes to my graduation, but I have plenty of classmates hooting and hollering when I cross the stage. I even see Albert at the back of the room. When our eyes lock, he blows me a kiss and goes out the door. It's the last time I see him.

Now to put my knowledge to work. I know I want to go to a place that needs the most help and I find myself at a medical clinic that deals with drug addicts and runaways, street kids and prostitutes.

The suffering I see here makes my life look like a picnic. I am no longer a victim, but a strong and independent woman, the kind Aunt Pearl would have been proud to know. The fact that it was her life savings that made it happen for me is a comfort when I'm by myself. She's always here. Aunt Pearl was my mother. I didn't have her long, but long enough to make a difference.

I try to make a difference for these kids, however briefly. Often it's not the cleaning up of their wounds that helps them, but the coffee, doughnuts, and having someone listen to them. I remember one young Inuit girl from up North. She was such a pretty little thing, when she wasn't being beaten by her john.

The last bandage goes over her ear and I tape it down. “This will hurt coming off. Some of your hair is under here.”

“I don't feel pain anymore.”

I hold her face in my hands. “Why are you here? You should go home if you can. Unless you're running away from them also.”

“I don't have the money to get back.”

I give her the money. She promises me that she'll go home. I'll never know if she did; I just know at that moment I couldn't sit back and do nothing.

Which is exactly how I feel when I decide to reach out to Oliver. Maybe with the passing years his hatred of me has subsided a little. Perhaps I can reason with him.

I manage to get through. “Hello, Oliver?”

“Who is this?”

“Grace. Don't hang up on me. I want to tell you that I've gone to university and I'm a nurse now. A respectable woman who shouldn't be punished her whole life. I need to see my son. It's time we put our issues aside and do what is right for him.”

“He hates you. He never speaks of you. He's enjoying a privileged life in a boarding school in Europe. Why would he want to talk to someone who walked out on him and never came back?”

“Is that what you told him? That I walked away? That I didn't love him?”

“You will never be a part of his life. Forget he exists. He has the best of everything. He's forgotten you, Grace. Leave well enough alone.”

When he hangs up, I smash the receiver into the wall over and over again. Men and their power make me want to vomit.

After three years of dealing with an endless parade of sad, sad stories, I find I'm tired and a bit burnt out. My yearning for Marble Mountain returns. I can find a job anywhere now and take care of myself.

I sold my car when I first arrived in Toronto to help defray some living expenses, so I have to fly home. Memories of meeting Aunt Pearl and Aunt Mae at the airport all those years ago make me smile. I rent a car for a week, until I can buy another one, and I know exactly where I'm going to go for advice on that front.

I pick up the keys at Bruce's house and both he and Patricia are happy to see me.

“You look wonderful!” Patricia says. “Wait until I tell Erna!”

My little house is in need of some attention, but it's still watertight, not too far gone. I have the entire summer to fix the place up. I want to plant a garden and get the field cut. A new lick of paint will help the exterior and a pretty new colour on the door will help. Shutters might look nice too, but it all requires a car. I drive the rental up to Fletcher's place.

For once he's not in the garage, but there are cars about, so I go over and knock on his screen door.

“Come on in!”

I go into his cozy kitchen. His face lights up when he sees me.

“Grace! You look amazing. Welcome home.”

“It's good to be back, Fletcher.”

He gets up and shakes my hand. It's nice to see him, but I'm more interested in the woman sitting at the table with him. She gives me a sour smile.

“Grace, this is my neighbour, Dora Trimm. She keeps me well supplied with sweets.”

She practically simpers. There's something I don't like about her. “Hello, Dora.”

She nods.

“She and her husband, Harvey, live next door. What can I do for you? Finally coming to pick up your Pontiac?”

“As much as I'd like to, I think a newer model would be best and I'd love your advice on what kind of car I should buy.”

“I'd be happy to help you.”

“Could you come visit some car dealerships with me? Maybe on the weekend? I know you're busy.”

“I'd love to. How about tomorrow? I'll pick you up at nine.”

“But tomorrow is Friday,” Dora frowns. “You always work on a Friday.”

“I'm taking the day off.”

I get the feeling Dora hates me.

After that successful meeting, I go straight to Nan's house. She doesn't look a day older.

“Grace Fairchild! Oh my word, you're a sight for sore eyes.”

We chat for two hours over our tea and I tell her about my nursing career. Nan is well pleased.

“Your Aunt Pearl's buttons would be poppin'!”

The next day Fletcher arrives on the dot of nine and we have a great day together. He tells me not to buy a new car because they lose value the instant you drive them off the lot, and then he takes me to a bunch of small local dealers where he does the talking. As soon as he introduces himself, I can see the salesmen deflate a little. Fletcher's reputation precedes him.

By the end of the day, I have another Toyota Camry, a 1995 Vienta station wagon. I'll be able to carry around a lot of stuff, like bags of sheep manure and flats of flowers. We go out to supper before heading back home, Fletcher driving behind me while I get used to my new car. The next Monday, he takes work off again and drives the rental back for me while I drive behind him. On the trip home we stop for ice cream.

Throughout the summer we see each other sporadically. I'm happy Fletch is my friend and we meet for coffee or share a pizza, but I am busier than a buzzing bee. My job at the local nursing home lets me spend time with fifty Aunt Pearls and Aunt Maes. I love them and they love me back. The stories that they tell me! Someone should write them down. A lot of them remember the Fairchild girls.

Birdy Cameron doesn't weigh much more than a bird, but her mind is a steel trap, at the ripe old age of ninety-five. She tells me that she has a “garbage” brain and that it retains all kinds of useless information. I pump her for every drop of memory she possesses.

“My grandmother Rose was the Fairchild sister who left Baddeck and got married and had my mom, Trixie. Do you remember anything about my grandfather? What his name was even?”

“Now let me think,” she says, as she puts her almost transparent, fragile hand up to her head. “I know his name was Gavin Simms.”

I quickly write this down on the back of my chart. “Was he from around here?”

“No, child. If he was, he'd have known better than to marry Rose Fairchild! She was as ditsy a woman as I've ever met. Only wanted to be happy. That's a foolish ambition, and it was bound to end in tears.”

“Where was Gavin from? What happened to him?”

“Don't know that child, but the last anyone saw of him, he was being chased up the road by Pearl, who had a shotgun on her shoulder.”

“Hot damn, I love that woman!”

Despite many conversations with the residents as I gave them their pills, I never do find out anything new about Rose and Gavin. Their brief romance is forgotten. Just as well. It didn't end happily.

That fall, Jonathan calls me.

“Mom?”

I'm sure this is a wrong number. “Who are you looking for?”

“Grace Willingdon.”

My heart stops. “Jonathan?”

“Yes, it's me.”

“Oh my god…oh my god! I'm so happy to hear from you! Please don't hate me. I couldn't bear that. I had to go because your grandf—”

“Mom, I don't really want to talk about details. It's hard enough to hear your voice. This isn't even my idea. My wife—”

“You're married? You're too young to be married.”

“I'm twenty-three. I got married last year.”

“Is she a nice girl? What's her name?”

“She's very nice. Her name is Deanne. Anyway, she thought you should know that we're expecting a baby.”

I jump up from my chair. “A baby! You're going to be a father?”

“That will make you a grandmother. I hope you'll do a better job with this child than you did with me.”

“Oh, Jonathan. I'm so sorry. Does this mean I can see you every now and then? Can I hold the baby?”

“I don't know, Mom. We'll see how it goes.”

“Is Deanne there? May I speak to her?”

He passes over the phone. “Hello? Mrs. Willingdon?”

“Oh, Deanne, you have no idea what you've done. You've saved my life. Thank you, thank you for making him call me. We've been estranged for years and I want it to end. I love him so much.”

“I thought you might. After only six months of pregnancy, I love this baby more than my life. I'll keep working on him. It will be nice to meet you some day.”

“And you, sweet heavenly girl. May I talk to him again?”

He gets back on the phone. “Mom, I have to go.”

“Please give me your telephone number. I'd like to call you every now and again. And I'll come to you. You just say when and I'll be down there.”

“Mom. Let's just take it slow. You're a stranger. I'm overwhelmed enough with the thought of having my own child. I'll call you when the baby's born. Goodbye.”

I whirl around in my living room with an excitement I had not thought possible. You're back. Your grandfather didn't win. We'll make it now. I wish I had someone to tell.

Fletcher.

The speed with which I drive to his place is unseemly and I hardly get the car stopped before I'm out the door. “Fletcher! Fletcher?”

He comes running out of the garage and when he does, he trips over a piece of equipment and sprawls to the ground in slow motion. It's like seeing a gigantic tree fall in the woods.

As soon as he lands I hear something break. He cries out in pain and I run to him. “Oh my god, don't move. I'll be right back.” I throw my coat over him and run to the house and call an ambulance. Then back I go to hold his head until it arrives.

“You're going to be all right.” I feel his neck for a pulse. He must be in shock; he looks at me but can't speak. “I've got you. You're going to be fine.”

Of course he isn't fine. He has a broken hip that requires surgery. Every night after supper I go up to the hospital to see him. I run into Nan every time, as well as the dratted Dora.

A plan formulates in my head. I'm responsible for this injury and I have to make it right. Thankfully I find him alone one night at the hospital and he smiles at me. I take his hand.