Kit's Law (8 page)

Aunt Drucie paused in her tears, her eyes beseeching mine as she mouthed a silent sigh for the gift of charity I had just bestowed upon her, no different than if Nan herself had been sitting alongside of me, handing me to her.

“I’ll do me best for ye, Kit, I pray to God, I’ll do me best,” she quavered, sitting back in her chair and dabbing at her eyes. “How old be you, now? Twelve? Soon thirteen? Sure, another year and you won’t be needin’ nobody to care for you; wouldn’t young Suze Gale only thirteen when she was pregnant and married?”

I nodded and Aunt Drucie leaned forward, dropping her voice to a fierce whisper.

“And it’s a good thing for the reverend and the higher-ups that I’ll be takin’ care of ye, ’cuz I allows Lizzy would come back and haunt the bejesus out of every livin’ soul in Haire’s Hollow if they was to have their way and send you to an orphanage somewhere—after all they put her through when you was born. Although ’tis a sin Doctor Hodgins’s wife’s so sick,” she added tearily. “’Cuz for sure he would’ve took you and your poor mother in. My, I remembers when all the talk was goin’ on about his wife wantin’ a baby, and was wantin’ to adopt you, but he wouldn’t let her. They says it’s been eatin’ at him ever since. They says that’s when she started gettin’ a bit low minded, after Doctor Hodgins put a stop to her adoptin’ you. Course now, Lizzy had a say about that, too. She always said the doc’s wife looked so sickly and blue with the cold that if she had a youngster, they’d have to wrap hot-water bottles around her tits to warm up a bit of milk.”

A knock sounded and Aunt Drucie half stood as Old Joe inched open the door and stood inside, his curly grey hair wetted neatly back off his forehead, and his cap in his hand.

“Oh, ’tis you, Joe,” Aunt Drucie said, her voice becoming all teary again. “Come on in then, and take a seat,” she offered, sitting back down and pulling out a chair alongside of her.

“I’ll be goin’, agin,” Old Joe mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as he stood besides me. “I-I just wanted to see Kit for a bit before … before … ” His voice broke and he fumbled around in the pocket of his pressed Sunday pants and brought out the orange starfish he had offered me the day of Rube Gale’s funeral. “I dried it for you, like I said,” he whispered, dropping to one knee and holding it before me. “Might be I brung it too late … but, there’ll be other wishes, Kittens … ”

His voice choked off and I looked into his seeping, wind-wrought eyes.

“You just remember the verse,” he whispered hoarsely. “Starfish, star bright. Then you closes your eyes and thinks the rest.”

He placed the fish onto my outstretched palm and wrapped his hands around mine.

“You nail it to your room door,” he urged gently, rising to his feet. “Your very own star. And if it don’t bring you what you wishes for, you come to Old Joe, and he’ll get it for you.”

Then he was backing out the door and Aunt Drucie was weeping brokenheartedly.

“Poor J-Joe,” she sobbed, “what’s he goin’ to do now without his ole card partner. My, they were a p-pair, they were.”

The door opened again, and this time Doctor Hodgins walked in, smoothing back his tufts of hair, with Josie besides him.

“My oh m-my, she looks froze to death,” Aunt Drucie moaned as Josie, scowling at me, kicked the mud and snow off her boots, and stomped down the hall to her room.

“Why don’t you go help her get dressed,” Doctor Hodgins said to Aunt Drucie.

Aunt Drucie got up, still dabbing at her eyes, and followed after Josie. Surprisingly, Josie let her into her room without any fuss. Doctor Hodgins sat down besides me, the cool fall air wafting from his clothes, like mint against my face. He fingered the starfish I held in my lap, then took it and laid it on the table. Taking hold of my hand, he held it in his and studied my palm.

“I can’t take your pain away this time,” he said finally, his voice gruff with gentleness. “I expect no one can, but the grace of God. Do you believe in God, Kit?”

I nodded, my mouth as empty of words as my eyes were of tears.

“Do you believe your grandmother is in a nice place?” he asked softly.

I nodded again.

“She won’t ever leave you completely, Kit. There’ll always be a part of her right here with you. Believe that.” He paused, then, “I talked to Josie about angels. I don’t think Lizzy was big on angels.”

“She—didn’t like feathers.”

“Apparently. So, I talked to her about spirits instead, and how they are soft and warm, and not easily seen, and how Lizzy is a spirit now, and even though we can’t see her, she’s listening and watching us all the time, and lying down with us at night to help keep us warm while we sleep.” He tightened his grip on my hand. “I don’t know how much of it she understood. Perhaps you might want to reassure her of that sometimes.”

I nodded.

“Kit, you can come live with Elsie and me.”

“I want to stay here,” I said, my eyes widening in alarm.

“Shh, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I’m asking Drucie if she’ll oversee things, here—cook, clean. Sleep over, if that’s what you want. She’ll be good company for you, help with things.” He paused, then, “I understand how Josie wouldn’t take well to moving. But, it’s different with you, Kit. You’re growing up fast, and there’s things you’ll need. I know Elsie’s not that well, but you might be good for each other … ”

“I won’t leave,” I said, my voice rising.

He smiled and little crinkles ran off from the corners of his eyes like ripples on a quiet pond.

“Don’t worry, Kittens. I promised Lizzy a long time ago that I would see to you, and that you would never have to leave your home. And you won’t. You have my word.”

Something of my doubts must’ve been written in my eyes, for he tightened his grip on my hand again, and added gruffly, “You’re going to be fine. Anything you need, I’ll see to it that you get. You just come to me. Will you promise me that?”

I nodded and he stroked the back of my hand with the pad of his thumb, the same as Nan when she was stroking the down off a turr’s breast—all careful and tender like, so’s to not rip the skin and sap the oil from its meat.

“Perhaps you should go see how Josie’s making out with Drucie,” he said, laying my hand back on my lap and giving it a little pat. “Lizzy won’t like it if I’m late getting her girls to her funeral.”

I walked down the hall to Josie’s room, thinking Nan wouldn’t be liking any of it if she was here, most specifically being laid out in church and with the Reverend Ropson looking over her corpse. And it was a dirty deed the reverend done her, when halfway through the service he went into his sermon on sin with such a vengeance that I could feel Nan’s toenails uncurling as she lay there, muted in her coffin. And once, when the reverend pointed his finger somewheres in Josie’s direction while calling the congregation sinners, I thought the coffin shifted. Shrinking closer to Doctor Hodgins, I half expected the lid to pop open any second and Nan along with it, pointing a finger of blasphemy at the reverend and blasting his hypocritic soul to hell.

Just what the reverend’s hypocrisies were, except trying to take me away from Nan and sending me off to an orphanage the day I was born, I didn’t know. Yet, aside from the scant few who took tea with him, everyone else in Haire’s Hollow felt the same as Nan, although they were all equally pressed to say why. For the most part, the reverend walked amongst everyone and talked their talk, and was always taking their fight to St. John’s when the fishers was getting a low cut on a quintal of fish, or the loggers being gypped on a cord of wood.

“It’s in the way he goes about it,” Old Joe said to Nan, once. “He’s worse than Lucy Gale; gives you a piece of boiled cake just so’s she can show off her new plate, then begrudges you every crumb that goes into your mouth.”

“Be the Jesus, it ain’t the cake he’s begrudging ye,” Nan had replied. “For he loves to flick his arse off to St. John’s every chance he can get. It’s havin’ to talk with ye in the first place to find out what the matter is that dirties up his pretty platter.”

And it was a dirty job he done Nan during her burial service. Fixing his eyes on Josie and me, sitting in the front pew alongside of Doctor Hodgins, he left off on his sermon on sin and went into another on the folly of foolish pride with such hissing and spite that most of the congregation hung their heads in shame for the way he was taking the final say in the bad blood between him and Nan and the bad blood that, in a way that wasn’t quite clear to anyone in Haire’s Hollow, had silently grown between him and Doctor Hodgins. And by the way Doctor Hodgins laid his hands protectively around mine and Josie’s shoulders as he stared down the reverend during his preaching, and by the way the reverend’s words lost some of their spite whenever he tripped over Doctor Hodgins’s brooding look, it became clear that the battle was far from over simply because the general lay dead in a box at the reverend’s feet.

It was the day after the funeral that they came—in much the same way Nan said they came all those years ago when they first tried to take me away from the gully. Excepting for the reverend and Jimmy Randall. They didn’t come on this day. Just May Eveleigh and Mrs. Ropson. And it wasn’t Nan who stood to greet them. It was me and Doctor Hodgins.

Nodding politely at Doctor Hodgins, May sat down straight as a ruler on the edge of the daybed and looked expectantly to the reverend’s wife who was easing herself a little uneasily into Nan’s rocker. I could tell by the way Mrs. Ropson kept looking to a spot besides the door where Doctor Hodgins was now standing that that was where the reverend must’ve stood as they faced down Nan, who must’ve been sitting on the far end of the daybed, away from May Eveleigh, where I was now sitting. After greeting them by name, Doctor Hodgins smoothed back his tufts and pleasantly asked, “Would you like a cup of tea, ladies?”

“I wouldn’t put you to the trouble, Doctor,” Mrs. Ropson said, wiping her cold, red nose with a small crumpled hankie, her voice a trifle too pleasing.

“No trouble at all,” Doctor Hodgins replied. “Kit?”

I rose and went to the bin, taking down the teacups.

“A little cold water in mine,” May Eveleigh said. Then she tut-tutted shockingly, “Some cold for October, Doctor. I allows we’ll never see the sun again.”

“It’s always colder out here by the gully,” Mrs. Ropson said with a little bivver. “No trees to buff the wind.”

“Some of us like a good breeze, Mrs. Ropson,” Doctor Hodgins replied merrily. “Need any help, Kit?”

I walked slowly towards Mrs. Ropson, carefully holding out the cup and saucer so’s not to flop the tea over the sides. The tip of a cold fingernail grazed my knuckle as she accepted the cup and my hand shook a little as I went back to the bin for May Eveleigh’s. Everyone served, I glanced with relief at Doctor Hodgins and sat back down, stealing a look at May Eveleigh as she copied sipping her tea as smartly as Mrs. Ropson. Aside from slurping a little too loud, she appeared to be doing it just right. Doctor Hodgins watched, too.

“It’s a good cup a tea,” May finally said, lowering her cup. “Thank you, Kit.”

“Yes, thank you,” Mrs. Ropson said, smiling up at Doctor Hodgins. “Well, well, it’s a good turn you’re doing the family, Doctor, helping out like this. The reverend’s disappointed he couldn’t come with us today, but he’s got a wedding down in Pollard’s Point and a baptism in Purpy’s Cove. And then he’s off to St. John’s. But, he feels blessed he was here to bury Lizzy.”

“I’m sure Lizzy feels blessed as well,” Doctor Hodgins replied solemnly. Mrs. Ropson gave a curt nod and tracked May Eveleigh’s eyes around the place. There wasn’t much— the room we were sitting in served as a kitchen and sitting room, with three small bedrooms leading off from a narrow hallway, and the small room at the back that served as Nan’s closet. Everything was clean—the wooden bin, criss-crossed with a thousand cuts from a thousand diced carrots and potatoes, and the wood bleached from a thousand scrubbings; a sanded plank nailed across the wall over the bin served as a shelf for the dishes; the cupboards below, hidden behind a curtain of red cotton that Nan hemmed and hung to keep out the dirt.

The tops of the stove were polished black, and its white enamel sides were gleaming, except where pieces of the enamel was chipped, showing the black underneath. We didn’t have curtains in the kitchen, didn’t need them. Nobody came around our place, and Nan liked looking down over the gully onto the sea from her rocker. The blue-and-pink flowery canvas covering the floor was scuffed bare where Nan always stood by the bin, and in front of her rocker, and the spot in front of the doorway leading down the hall. Time enough to get new, Nan always said, when the tar gluing it down starts gluing your socks down as well.

The way the house leaned to one side bothered her. You couldn’t drop a ball of yarn around your ankles without it rolling out of sight, she’d say. And she always complained, with a wink to Aunt Drucie, about how she got a stitch in her side sometimes, just by walking up the hall from the closet.

Still, her crocheted angel with the red halo hanging on the wall over the daybed was pretty. And her wandering Jew lit up the window by the door. Too, I liked the multicoloured throw that she had knitted out of a hundred different pieces of leftover wool, and laid across the daybed that me and May Eveleigh was now sitting on. I fingered a corner of the soft wool as May cleared her throat, readying to speak.

“Drucie’s sleepin’ sickness,” she said, snapping everyone’s attention onto her, “it seems to be catchin’ up with her a lot, these days. There’s some of us that’s not convinced that she can handle the mother properly, even if she was able to stay awake, most times. We’re concerned about the girl.”

“Thank you, May,” Doctor Hodgins said, rubbing at his chin and sounding deeply touched. “But you, more than anyone, know the outporters take care of their own. Kit and her mother will be fine.”

“Drucie doesn’t seem all that fit herself, these days,” Mrs. Ropson spoke up, the little pockets of fat on the side of her mouth jiggling as she leaned forward and laid her cup on the corner of the table. “Certainly the mother will need a stronger hand than hers.” She forced a chirpy little laugh and sat back. “Course it’s hard for me to say anything, seeing’s how hard Lizzy judged me the last time I tried to do my Christian duty by her. But it’s the girl’s—ah, Kit’s—interest that concerns me and the reverend. That’s why he wanted me to come out here today, even though my knee is swelled with arthritis again, to make sure Drucie can handle what we’ve put on her.”