Kin (38 page)

He'd once found a mother robin dead under a tree and heard chirping from the nest above. He climbed the tree and found four baby robins, so young they had no feathers, opening their beaks, wanting their mother. He waited to see if the father would come back, but he didn't want to wait too long or they'd die. It took a ladder to get them down from the tree, and he devised a system where he had the four of them in a box that he divided in half with a piece of cardboard. Whenever they soiled the paper towels he'd lined the box with, he'd gently push them to the clean side and cleaned up the mess. He also fed them dog food every two hours. He'd put a little on a small flat stick and push it down their throats like their mother would. He'd whistle to them while he fed them and they grew up healthy and strong. When they were first learning to fly they'd land on his head. They even landed on the dog, who was so used to them he'd sleep right through it. When they finally flew off for the winter, he missed them, and then one summer morning the next year, he heard a commotion on his bedroom window ledge. There they were. They didn't jump on his hand like they used to, but it was enough to know that he'd taught them well. One of the barn cats managed to kill one of them because they weren't as afraid as wild birds, but the others were there all summer teaching their own young. Privately Ewan always thought it was his most impressive accomplishment.

He tended to wander back to old memories when he fed Lila, just so he didn't have to acknowledge what was happening in front of him. The looks on Colleen and Duncan's faces were enough to tell him he should be worried, but he refused to believe it would be today. He'd been saying that for weeks.

Not today.

That night in bed as he heard her ragged breath get weaker and weaker, he held her close. And then she spoke softly. “I want to see the stars.”

It was happening, but he couldn't think about that. She needed his help, and he had spent his whole life helping her. He put on his clothes and a jacket, wrapped her in Aunt Eunie's quilt, and took her outside to sit on his lap in her old weathered Adirondack chair. He watched her look up at the Milky Way stretched across the night sky.

“It's beautiful…” she whispered.

He nodded.

“…my life with you.”

“Lila…” He couldn't continue. He held her tight in his arms and rocked ever so gently. She sighed and he waited for the next breath, but it never came.

He sat out there in the dark with her the whole night. He had to. There was a cricket chirping, keeping him company.

Ewan did what he had to do. He endured them coming to take her away. He consulted with the funeral home and when they asked what her religion was, he said she was a tree fairy. He talked and shook hands and kissed people at the service. He had to endure all this so that she could be cremated.

All of the Macdonalds were there and there were a lot of them. He and Lila had had each other. That was it. That's all they needed.

When the ordeal was finally over, Ewan told Duncan and Colleen he wanted to be alone, if they could just make sure all the chores were done before they left. They did as he asked and hugged him goodbye, saying they'd see him in the morning.

He took Lila's ashes and walked along the very familiar path to the ballerina tree. He stood awhile and looked out at the water. This was a good place to be. The only place he wanted her to be if she couldn't be with him.

He opened the small container and looked at her ashes. They were exactly like the white sand on the beach below. She belonged to nature now; to the trees, and the wind and the ocean she so loved. He took her in his hands and gently scattered fairy dust around the base of the ballerina tree. She vanished into the ground, hiding under leaves, moss, twigs, and grass. That's what life is in the end.

You disappear into the earth.

Ewan stayed there until he was sure that Lila was safe. Then he walked back to the house and got all his papers from the locked drawer of his mother's desk and put them in order on the kitchen table. There was the deed to the house and land, papers listing the value of his property, the petting zoo and his animals, the shop, his and Lila's wills, his new truck keys and ownership papers. Everything had been dotted and signed with lawyers in Sydney, leaving Colleen as their heir. It would all be hers.

He and Lila had discussed it one night sitting in front of the fire. It made them feel good that they were leaving everything to someone who would love it as much as they did.

Once that was settled, he went into their bedroom and took Lila's housecoat off the hook on the back of the door. As he lay in their bed he held it in his arms. He didn't think he'd be able to sleep, but he heard Lila tell him she loved him. It gave him the peace he needed to close his eyes.

In the morning after Ewan had washed, dressed, and had a quick bite to eat, he took an old suitcase out of their closet and started to pack. After he'd packed all his own clothes, he took Lila's slip out of a drawer. He opened her jewellery box and took her wedding ring and the gold heart-shaped locket with their picture in it. Colleen had taken it years before, capturing their image from afar as they walked arm in arm out of the barn, both of them in rubber boots.

He walked over to her bedside table and retrieved the journal she kept there. Ewan had given it to her thirty years before, when the map on her wall was so covered with pins it was in danger of falling apart. Written on the inside cover was
Wonders of the World.

She had quite a list of places she thought were marvellous—the rainforests in South America, the Great Wall of China, Egyptian pyramids, the Cabot Trail, the St. Lawrence River, the swamps of Louisiana, and volcanoes in Hawaii.

“You and I are going on an adventure, old girl.” He wrapped up the journal, ring, and locket with Lila's slip and tucked them into one of the mesh enclosures inside the suitcase. The last thing he packed was the picture she'd drawn for him of his animals looking out of the barn door, the one he'd kept with him during the war. It was his most prized possession. Then he went outside and walked around the farm and said goodbye to all his friends, touching them gently, kissing them on the nose, breathing in the wonderful smells that were so familiar to him, the horses and the big warm cows. He was sorry he wouldn't see the miniature pigs that were coming. They were awfully cute. He even picked up every chicken and thanked them for their years of service.

These creatures were his family. All his life his comfort had come from them. When he was lonely growing up, they had listened to him and kept his secrets and were always glad to see him. They took care of him.

Ewan was at the kitchen table holding his airline ticket when Colleen and Duncan arrived. He smiled at them.

Colleen took everything in at once. “What's this? Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes. I'm taking Lila on a trip. Our first stop is an African safari. We can't wait to see a real lion and tiger.”

Colleen's face crumpled. She fell into one of the kitchen chairs. “But we'll miss you.”

“I'll miss you too.”

She pointed at all the paperwork. “And this?”

“I'm leaving you the farm. Everything.”

Colleen and Duncan looked at each other.

“That's not necessary,” Duncan said. “We'll look after this place as long as you need us to.”

“I'm not coming back.”

“Not coming back!” Colleen cried out. “But you have to! The new pigs are coming!”

Ewan reached over and patted her hand. “And they are very lucky pigs. Take care of them for me.”

Duncan cleared his throat. “Uh, I hate to ask you, Ewan, but do you have the money for this? The world is awfully expensive these days.”

“I have a little nest egg that should hold me over for quite awhile. If not, I can always get a job cleaning out barns.”

Colleen jumped out of her chair. “You'll do no such thing! Wait here.” She hurried out of the kitchen.

Ewan looked at Duncan. “I hope you both have a very happy life here. I know I did. There's something magic about this place.”

Colleen came back in with an envelope. She stuffed it in Ewan's pocket.

“What's this?”

“Never mind what it is,” Colleen sniffed. “But you better use every bit of it.” She grabbed him around the neck and hugged him tight. “You have to promise to stay in touch. You can't disappear off the face of the earth. It's not fair to those of us who love you, and we do love you. We're your family.”

Ewan kissed her cheek. “Yes, you are. Don't worry. I'll call you.”

“Promise me that if you get sick, you'll come home to us, or get us to come to you. Do you promise?”

He patted her back. “Okay, I promise.”

A car horn honked outside. “That will be my brother taking me to the airport.”

Ewan gave Colleen one more kiss and then shook hands with Duncan. Petting the dogs one last time, he took his suitcase and walked out to the car. He waved at the wonderful couple who gave him the peace of mind to take his sweetheart on her journey to see the world.

He was in the air when he remembered the envelope. It held a cheque for a hundred thousand dollars.

That crazy girl. He knew she had money but he couldn't take this. Just as he was about to rip it up, he paused. A few weeks before he'd seen a documentary on television about an orphanage for baby elephants whose mothers had been killed by poachers.

“That's what we'll do, Lila. We'll spread this money around as we travel.”

The passenger beside him gave him a quick glance. “Pardon?”

“Don't mind me,” Ewan smiled. “I'm talking to my wife.”

Hilary knew her mother was ready to pull her hair out. Her grandmother had gone off the deep end. She stayed in bed all day ordering things from the shopping network. Like she didn't have everything she could possibly need in that apartment. The worst was her obsession with skin care products. She had every item, of every cosmetic line, of every actress in North America. They arrived by the boxful and then kept coming because she didn't cancel the order. Every three months more cleanser, toner, and moisturizer arrived to be piled on top of the pile that was already there.

Her mom would call Aunt Colleen up and bitch about it, but she never had time to talk.

“How did my sister end up on Noah's Ark? I called her the other day and she was on her cell phone in the barn. I asked her what she was doing, and do you know what she said? Waiting for a placenta to drop.”

That morning her mom put Aunt Colleen on speakerphone so they could say howdy to each other. Mom started up again and Colleen told her off.

“Look, you've got Mom down there and I have Dad up here. You think it's easy for me to be taking him to endless doctor's appointments? He won't drive the car anymore, and he won't live out here with us so that's an hour's drive to get him and take him to Sydney and then another hour to deliver him back home and back out here again. At least Mom is ten minutes away. Consider yourself lucky.”

“You think it's lucky that I have to go into that apartment? She won't have a maid service. She says they rob her blind, which is ridiculous because even if they did, it would be a huge help.”

“Welcome to middle age. It's nothing new. We've been silently losing good women for centuries, trying to take care of children, grandchildren, men, and parents all at the same time.”

“Don't talk about children.”

“What did the poor girl do now?”

Hilary slurped the last of the milk out of her cereal bowl. “I didn't do anything! Can you believe it?”

“It's Mark. He says he's gay. He wants to go live with his Uncle Louis and Stephens.”

“Well, they are experts on the subject.”

“And then last night Adam told me he accidently knocked up Lisa and would I be available to babysit five days a week until they both finish their degrees. Apparently they don't believe in daycare and her mother is too busy. I have to tell Edward tonight that his twenty-one-year-old son is going to be a father, and he'll naturally blame me.”

“Oh my god, you're going to be a grandmother!”

“Don't call me that. I can't deal with it right now. It has to sink in.”

“I'm going to be an aunt!” Hilary shouted.

“I feel sorry for the kid. Gotta run. The pigs are on the loose.” Click.

Hilary got up from the table and put the cereal bowl in the dishwasher. “I have to get ready and pick up Grandma.”

“Thank you for doing this. If I hadn't waited so long for this mammogram, I'd reschedule.”

“That's okay.”

“How does someone get a girl accidentally pregnant? Did he slip it in when she wasn't looking?”

“Eww…Mom!”

“And how do I tell your father about Mark?”

“Everybody knows about Mark, including Dad.”

“They do? He does?”

“Mom, I have to go.” Hilary gave her mom a hug. “Can you believe that I'm the good child now?”

Frankie patted her back. “You were always good, just bad.”

“I'll be back soon.”

“Good luck with that.”

* * *

Hilary ran upstairs to get dressed and Frankie sat at the table. Her miniature Yorkshire terrier jumped up on her lap. Everybody knew about Mark?
Edward
knew? What gigantic umbrella of ignorance had she been living under?

* * *

Hilary got off the elevator on her grandmother's floor and was just getting to the door when it opened.

“Where were you? I've been waiting a good half an hour. We'll be late for my eye appointment.”

Her grandmother was still a handsome woman, but seemed to be shrinking every time Hilary saw her, and her addiction to makeup became more and more obvious with each passing day. Her lips were pink, glossy, and sparkling. Something a twelve-year-old might love.

They took the elevator down to the street and had to walk to the parked car.

“Could you have parked any farther away?”

“Sorry, Grandma, there were no other spots available.”

Hilary got her into the car and started off. They weren't one minute down the street before her grandmother complained about the sun being too bright, and then the radio was too loud, and the wind from the open crack of the window on Hilary's side was too cold on her neck. She fiddled with the heater and put on the defroster instead, then blasted the air conditioner. Hilary tried to fix it at a red light. When she didn't start the instant the light changed green, her grandmother shouted, “Go!”

There was no parking in front of the medical clinic and the parking lot was full. “I'm going to have to let you out in front while I find somewhere to park. Stay at the door and wait for me.”

Grandma got out of the car and started up the stairs. Hilary zoomed around the block and around again and again, until finally she caught a break and saw a car attempting to pull out. She waited for the woman to manoeuvre her steering wheel back and forth, trying to not hit the car ahead or behind her. It took forever.

Honestly. Old people.

Hilary zipped into the parking place and fumbled around for change in her purse for the parking meter, then charged up the stairs to find her grandmother wasn't there. She looked around, back outside and then went to the lobby. She definitely wasn't there. Hilary didn't know the name of her doctor, which she realized too late, was a dumb move. There was a big sign listing all the offices in the building so she looked at it thinking she might recognize a name. Nothing rang a bell.

It took Hilary twenty minutes to find her. She ran into countless medical offices and quickly looked at their waiting rooms before heading back out. When she finally did track her down, looking small and anxious in a chair, Grandmother wasn't pleased.

“Where on earth have you been?”

“You were supposed to wait for me at the door,” Hilary panted.

“I have a doctor's appointment. Why do you think I'm here? I can't be late.”

Hilary sat in the chair beside her. “Sorry, Grandma.”

A young woman who was obviously escorting her elderly relative looked to the heavens in sympathy.

Grandma complained that she was too hot, so Hilary helped her off with her coat. Then she was too cold. Hilary put it back on. Then she complained that it was taking too long. The other elderly lady leaned over and said, “It's like this wherever you go.” They started a conversation about how inconsiderate doctors were and found out they both went to the same GP. That led to a review of their various ailments and symptoms and they talked so loud, Hilary was mortified. The others in the waiting room were either scowling or smirking behind old copies of
Reader's Digest
.

Her new friend was called in and they bid each other goodbye. Grandma started complaining again. They sat there for fifty minutes before they called for her. Hilary popped down to put more money in the parking meter, and then waited another hour before Grandmother emerged. She waved Hilary up to the desk.

“Listen to this so I'll remember it,” she said.

The nurse showed both of them the prescription and went over what she had to do, how many drops in each eye every second day and then three times a week for two weeks and in six weeks she'd have to come back so the doctor could see if there was any improvement. Hilary kept nodding like she was in charge of the situation, but it was baffling to say the least. Let the pharmacist look at it.

The pharmacist. She'd forgotten about that.

She got her grandmother back down to the car and put her in. Her pharmacy couldn't possibly be any farther away. Once again, she drove up and down in the mall parking lot looking for a place to park that was close to the door. Several times Grandma pointed to a spot but when they got up to it, there was small car hidden behind the others.

Finally, success. They went in. Hilary gave the pharmacist's assistant the piece of paper and Grandma starting talking about what a good granddaughter Hilary was and wasn't she lucky and did she have any grandchildren? The assistant, who looked like a washed-out forty, said no and left in a hurry. Hilary felt bad about feeling so impatient with her grandmother after the nice things she said. There was one seat left in the small waiting area to the side. Hilary stood. For twenty-two minutes. Her grandmother didn't notice because she'd made another friend.

Back out to the car and Grandma asked if she'd mind going to the shopping centre to find a specific brand of support hose.

An hour and a half and four stores later they found them but they didn't have the colour Grandmother wanted. The girl said she'd check and see if their other store across town had them.

They did.

An hour there and back and Grandma said they deserved a cup of coffee. Hilary rushed to the nearest Tim Horton's but her grandmother she didn't want to go there, so they ended up in a restaurant big enough that they had to wait to be seated.

Forty minutes later, after coffee and a piece of cheesecake, Hilary got her back to the apartment and her grandmother wanted to know if she'd like to come in since she never saw her and she only had one granddaughter.

An hour later, Hilary kissed her grandmother goodbye, got in the car, and drove over to her boyfriend's apartment. When she opened the door, Reef gave her a big smile.

“Hi, babe, how was your day?”

She closed the door, leaned on it, and slid to the floor.

“I don't know how my mother does it.”

* * *

David was lonely.

They were all gone now: his parents, Annie, Henry, and Lila. Kay wasn't here either. He still had some old buddies he'd see at the supermarket, but Colleen was always in a rush to get him out and he never had a chance to say more than a quick, “How are ya? How's the family?”

Colleen kept pressuring him to sell the house and move in with them because she was worried about him living alone. But that was Lila's and Ewan's house, the place where they'd been happy. He guessed that hadn't occurred to Colleen and he didn't want to bring up any old memories.

He spent a lot of days looking through old photo albums. He and Annie on a skating rink, her pretending to be a famous ice skater with one foot straight back behind her and her arms opened wide. All the pictures of Annie had her either mugging for the camera or with a big smile on her face. God, he missed her; what a bright button she was, always chasing after him, always wanting to be with him.

And Mom and Dad. He and Annie couldn't have asked for better parents. Their home was a safe and loving place to be, their focus on their children and each other. David despaired when he turned on the television and saw the news about battered or homeless or drug-addicted children. Where were their parents? And the worst horror, parents who killed their own children. What was wrong with the world? Hate everywhere, wars still being fought, people starving or exiled, living in refugee camps.

He was very grateful to be living in Canada and especially in the Maritimes and even more especially to be from Cape Breton and his hometown of Glace Bay, where he knew his neighbours and their families. When he was a kid, it seemed like the whole town knew who he was—the milkman, the mailman, the grocer, the guy who fixed their car, the doctor who came to their house, and the man who delivered the coal. He said hello to people all day long and they always wanted to know how he was or what his parents were up to; friendly chit-chat that made him feel like he belonged, that people would miss him if he left.

Other days, looking through the albums left him feeling melancholy. All the moments in their lives that rushed past them, the days they thought were ordinary but now, looking back, seemed like heaven.

When he ruminated about all the mistakes he'd made, he got cross with himself and considered all the wonderful things he had, his two girls and his three grandchildren. He loved them and was proud of them. He and Kay did that.

The girls didn't know, but he and their mother often talked on the phone for hours at a time, reminiscing about silly things that wouldn't mean anything to anyone else, but were special to them. They were good friends. They shared the same memories and that was important, because she was the only one left now.

Colleen was picking him up in an hour. Today was the day they'd find out the results, but he knew. He went through the charade for Colleen's sake. How could he tell his child that death looked better than the life he was living now? But the pain and suffering he'd gone through weren't worth it anymore. He was tired.

At the doctor's office, Colleen cried when he told them that yes, David's stomach cancer had spread and since he'd ruled out chemotherapy and surgery, the doctor said there was nothing they could do, other than to keep him comfortable until the time came. He shook the doctor's hand and helped Colleen out of her chair. He hadn't anticipated how emotional she would be.

Back at the house, he made the tea. “Colleen, dear, these things happen.”

“I wanted them to happen when you were ninety-something, not seventy-five. Seventy-five isn't old these days. Seventies are the new sixties.”

“I bet the person who said that wasn't seventy-five and didn't have cancer.”

“Do you want me to call Frankie and Mom?”

“No, dear, it's my news, I'll do it.”

Colleen seemed a lot older, suddenly. When he looked at her, he'd usually see his little girl; now there was a middle-aged woman looking back at him, a sad middle-aged woman.