Finding Home (11 page)

Then I could make myself believe I was a very
caring person, dedicated to helping others, moral in my own way.
Kiera was right – I should be proud, not sorry. On those days I was
sure it was the physical symptoms, not the pregnancy itself I was
regretting.

For all those weeks the real world didn’t
exist at all. I didn’t read the newspaper or watch the news on TV
like Kiera and Phoebe did. The only thing I was aware of outside of
Malagash and being pregnant was Nick’s frequent phone calls. Not
that I talked to him much. I didn’t feel up to discussing my
pregnancy. I felt so sick that if he hassled me I’d just tell him
to forget the whole thing. And then I wouldn’t get my money.

One night when he called Nick sounded drunk.
“What’s his problem?” I asked Kiera. “He was on about leverage or
something?”

She raised her eyebrows in mock horror.
“Remember that market crash last August? He got burned.”

“What do you mean?”

“He lost a bundle on margin calls.”

“God, I hope he’s still got my fifty
thousand,” I said. “Because if he doesn’t, I’m getting out of this
right now. It’s not too late.” We were sitting in the living room,
the first time I’d been downstairs in days. I felt shaky and
weak.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Kiera said. “Nick’s got
tons of other investments. He diversifies.”

“Even so, maybe I don’t want to go through
with this. I feel awful.”

Kiera came over and massaged my shoulders.
“Hey, this stage is going to pass, everybody says it does. You’ll
soon be through it.” She kneaded my aching back. “See what a great
labor coach I’m going to be?”

“Oh yeah,” I said. “But we haven’t told Nick
that yet. What’s he going to say?”

Kiera hooted with laughter. “You don’t think
Nick wants anything to do with the actual birth, do you?”

I stretched my arms high above my head and
yawned. “Well, I thought he might want to be there. I mean, most
fathers do, these days.”

“Nick isn’t most fathers,” Kiera said. She
knelt and began to rub my feet. “I’m sure you know he didn’t
exactly have a great role model.”

“Yeah, his father was a real bastard. But all
the more reason for Nick to do things differently.”

Kiera let go of my feet and stood up. “We can
hope so,” she said, adjusting a cozy hand-woven throw around my
shoulders. “There. Feel better now?”

“Mhmm,” I said. “Thanks.” I tucked my feet up
under me and snuggled into the wing chair. Phoebe had made a fire
and lit the antique oil lamps. The golden light calmed me, as
Kiera’s touch had comforted me. Maybe I could manage this pregnancy
thing after all. But a couple of questions kept bothering me.
Though I’d promised myself I wouldn’t ask, in that coddled moment,
I couldn’t resist. “Kiera,” I said, “I know it’s not really any of
my business, but when this baby’s born, where will you all
live?”

She busied herself straightening the pot of
russet chrysanthemums on the coffee table. “Mostly here,” she
finally said.

“And Nick?”

“Mostly Toronto.”

The smell of the chrysanthemums was giving me
a throw-up kind of feeling. “And the baby?”

“With me,” she said. “I don’t want to raise
my child in the city. But you know what? Let’s not get into this
right now. The first thing is for you to have the baby. The details
will work themselves out, I’m sure. Don’t forget Nick can come down
most weekends.”

“Does Nick know this?”

Kiera fussed with the flowers some more.
“Look,” she said, “I don’t want to sound crass, but like you said,
it’s not really your concern. The baby will be well loved and
looked after.”

She was right of course. I mustn’t let myself
start caring what happened after the birth. I had to focus on my
reason for doing this: the money to buy the lodge to start my
camp.

* * *

Kiera and Phoebe were busy every day in the
spare back bedroom they used for sewing, cutting and piecing the
wedding quilt. I usually stayed in my own room, resting and
reading. But one day in November Kiera poked her head in and said,
“We finally got the top done! Come see?”

I hauled myself out of bed and down the
hall.

“The pattern’s called Double Wedding Ring,”
she told me. “You can help us set up this frame and get it
attached.”

But I couldn’t I just got in their way. In
the end I simply sat and watched, amazed at the beauty of the
interlocking ring pattern and at the expert way they sewed the
backing to the aprons, then pinned and rolled the batting and
top.

The next afternoon the quilting group
arrived. I’d planned to take a nap, but Kiera dragged me along to
join them. “Some of you have already met my friend Lucienne,” she
said. “She’s here on doctor’s orders for complete rest during her
pregnancy. And I might as well tell you I’m going to be adopting
her baby in June.”

I couldn’t believe she’d said that. But I
guess she knew she’d have to tell them something, sometime, and
wanted to do it before the inevitable gossip got out of hand. I
heard a couple of gasps, then someone said, “Oh, that’s so nice for
you Kiera. You’ve waited so long.” And someone else said, “My son
and his wife just adopted a baby, the dearest little thing. We’re
all so delighted.”

Phoebe just kept stitching, her eyes on her
work, her needle seesawing in and out of the quilt, fast and
furious.

The women all introduced themselves then. Flo
and Dottie from the Loaves & Fishes café I’d already met. Then
there was Alma who worked at the post office and whose daughter
Gail the quilt was for, Leah who had her new baby with her, Holly
the midwife, who looked like she’d just stepped out of the 1960s,
and Sadie from The Silver Needle fabric shop. I pushed my chair in
between Kiera and Holly.

“Going to Dr. MacLaren, are you?” Flo asked.
“He’s such a lovely man, Phoebe’s Angus, known him all his life.
You couldn’t find a better doctor dear, and with Holly too, you’re
in good hands.” I had the feeling Kiera hadn’t told them anything
they hadn’t already heard. Most likely the details of my pregnancy
were public knowledge too.

“Dr. MacLaren and Holly delivered Blair,”
Leah said, “and they were just terrific, everything went so well.”
She turned and plucked her fussing baby from a car seat on the
floor behind her. “Hungry again, little piggy-pie?” She kissed him
and lifted her sweatshirt to let him nurse. I couldn’t help
staring. They both looked so contented, so complete. Breastfeeding
was something I wouldn’t be doing, and at that moment I felt like
it would break my heart.

“By the way Sadie,” Leah said with a dreamy
smile, “Do you think Heather could babysit Friday night?”

“Don’t know. She’s got a new boyfriend.”
Sadie snipped her thread and unreeled a spool for more. “Say Alma,
I saw your Gail and her man over to the mall in the city. Quite a
handsome guy she’s landed.”

“Isn’t he though?” Alma smoothed the fabric
under her fingers but didn’t stop stitching. “But I worry so much
about them. He’s a fisherman, you know, and with the way things are
going, what future do they have?”

“Well, they’re going to love this quilt,”
Kiera said. “Country rose and forest green is such a pretty
combination. How’re the wedding plans coming?”

“Oh, I’ve got the cake made, and I’ve started
on the bridesmaids’ bouquets. Gail wants all silk flowers, so the
girls can keep them.”

“Hey,” I said. “How can you all sew and talk
at the same time?” I glanced around the group. “I mean you’re
hardly even watching what you’re doing, but your stitches are
perfect.”

Dottie burst out laughing. “Just years and
years of practice,” she said, “and a real big mouth.”

“Can’t keep her quiet, no way, no how,” Flo
said, “me neither.”

Kiera threaded a needle, then knotted the
thread by rolling it nimbly around a finger. “Lucienne, why don’t I
teach you to quilt?”

“Yeah, good idea,” Holly said. “You could
make a quilt for the baby. Have you seen what they charge for those
down at The Silver Needle?” She winked over at Sadie. “Like,
tourist rip-off or what.”

Sadie just smiled. “People buy them. They
even buy those atrociously overpriced jackets and skirts Leah here
makes.” Laughter rippled around the table, and the feeling was so
warm and friendly I actually wished I could learn to quilt to be
one of them.

“Well?” Kiera said. “How about it?”

“Um, thanks, but I don’t think so. I’m pretty
klutzy at stuff like that.”

“Oh, c’mon,” Sadie said, “give you something
to do.”

“No really, I’m hopeless at handwork. Believe
me, I’ve tried. Let’s see, embroidery, needlepoint, knitting,
crocheting – you name it, I can’t do it.”

It made me shudder to remember those ordeals
with Vera Wemble. She’d been so patient and determined, but the
only thing I was ever able to finish was a long woolen scarf for
Gordon Clark. The thing was full of gaping holes where I’d dropped
stitches, and it curled up at the uneven edges. Though he wore it
through three long winters, Vera gave up on me in despair.

“A sample square is really easy,” Leah said.
Her baby had finished nursing and lay sleeping in the crook of her
arm. She settled him into his car seat. “I just learned myself,
while I was pregnant. It’s wonderful therapy.”

“Okay, I’ll think about it,” I said. But I
didn’t. I thought instead about the Wembles. Remembering Vera and
Walter brought on a terrible guilt. A grandchild was probably what
they wanted most, but they were never going to see this one. And I
hadn’t even written or phoned them from Malagash yet. I’d bought
them a postcard with a picture of Airdrie Bay, but kept putting off
sending it. I simply didn’t know what to tell them. I was sure they
wouldn’t want to know what I was really doing. So whatever I said
would have to be a lie.

* * *

I didn’t learn to quilt, but I sat with the
quilters the two afternoons a week they came until they were done.
I found myself craving their female company. It was soothing and
satisfying to watch them work and hear their gossip. They all had
pregnancy and birthing stories to tell, which I listened to word
for word. Holly of course gave me special attention and lots of
practical advice.

By early December my pregnancy no longer
seemed so overwhelming. I began to take long walks in the late
afternoon when I felt best, gradually adding little bursts of
jogging to rebuild my endurance. One day I noticed I looked better,
looked well even.

My changing shape cheered me. For a few weeks
I’d felt not pregnant but plump, too fat, which was distressing.
Now I had to cut the front out of my jeans and ask Phoebe to stitch
in a stretchy maternity panel. Oddly though, I was more comfortable
in the long loose dresses she’d made me, with their round yokes and
high necks and full sleeves. I must have looked like I was living
in a religious commune, but these seemed to suit a pregnant woman
sitting reading in front of the library fireplace.

By late November cold wet weather set in, and
I had to jog through drizzling rain most days, or plow through
peasoup fog which rolled in without warning from the bleak gray
sea. I was often bored I missed the constant outdoor work that had
kept me busy at the lodge, and Garou’s doggy company. My help was
neither wanted nor needed at Malagash. Phoebe cooked and cleaned,
while Dottie’s husband did any maintenance. Life began to blur by
in a series of dreary, run-on days with nothing much to do and all
day to do it.

I found myself waiting for Nick’s evening
phone calls. And not just because they broke the monotony. Now that
I felt better I longed for the sound of his voice. “How’s my baby?”
he’d ask. “What’s the doctor say? Everything fine?” I kept my
answers upbeat and vague, and Nick never mentioned our little chat
on the trail. But I knew we’d be discussing both the birth and our
relationship again in person, when he came down at Christmas. I
couldn’t wait.

I didn’t see much of Kiera most days, since
she volunteered at the village school when she wasn’t quilting. She
was in charge of the annual Christmas play and rehearsals were in
full swing. We did eat dinner together every night after Phoebe
left, but I held back from getting to know her better. Though I was
often tempted to ask more about her plans for the baby, I knew from
the one time I’d tried that I probably wouldn’t get any answers.
And I would definitely be setting myself up for grief. Why develop
ties I’d only have to break?

I sensed Kiera was restrained for the same
reasons. So we talked about the physical details of my pregnancy,
about quilting, gardening, books, art, antiques, clothes –
everything but our private selves.

And then one morning we broke the rules.

Kiera and I were eating breakfast when Phoebe
arrived with the mail. “More catalogues,” she said, “and the phone
bill, and this looks like an invitation to Gail’s wedding.” She
plunked these down by Kiera’s place, then dropped a letter at mine.
From the crossed out and rewritten address I saw it had gone to the
lodge and then been sent on by Odette.

It was from Jay.

My gut reaction was to destroy it. I’d made a
rational decision to forget him. What possible good could it do to
read his letter? I left it lying there while I ate a boiled egg and
a bran muffin and drank some milk. Then curiosity gripped my heart
and I tore the envelope open.

It wasn’t much of a letter. Jay’s loopy
scrawl covered one side of what looked like a piece of paper from a
student’s notebook. For someone who could draw so well, he sure had
poor handwriting. He pledged undying love forever and ever, blah,
blah, blah. It sounded like something he’d heard in a sensitive guy
workshop, or read in some women’s magazine. Pathetic. But totally
endearing. I burst into tears.