Light Over Water (24 page)

          Pearl looked at her
brother, shook her head in mock disgust and said, “Home.”

          Alison offered, “She
wasn’t feeling too well today at school.”

          Dan stood, rattling
the dishes on the table as he knocked against it.  “I’d better go check on
her.  Why didn’t you tell me earlier, Allie?”  He patted his jacket pockets
feeling for his glasses.

          Pearl picked them up
from the table and held them out to him.  “Dan?”

          “Hmmm?  I must get my
bag.”

          “Dan, while you’re
there, why don’t you just propose to her?  She’s waiting.”

          Dan stood perfectly
still, staring at Pearl.  One corner of his mouth lifted.

          “Yes, Papa.  Why
don’t you?”
          He shifted his gaze to Alison.  Then he smiled.  “A very good idea.” 
He was grinning broadly now and the sorrow and burdens of the past months fell
away from his face.  “A most excellent idea,” he reiterated as he hurried out
the door.

          The wedding was a
joyful occasion for the whole village and the church was full.  The highlight
for many was a cake at the reception after, with real frosting and
decorations.  Dan and Mary honeymooned for a week in Nova Scotia, during which
time Alison and Pearl, with help from Remick and Sam, moved Mary’s belongings
out to the Granger home.

          Sam was helping his
father on the fishing boat again.  He rejoiced in the simplicity, quietness and
hard work.  He would find himself standing at times, on the back of the boat,
just staring at the water, surprised to find himself back here; but thankful,
so grateful for his life.  He corresponded with Chaplain Hudson and a couple of
his army friends, but mostly he wanted to forget the war and live this simple,
calm life.  He talked with Alison about some of his experiences, but he
understood now why Remick was silent about the war.  He wanted to forget that
people would do such things to each other.  He wanted to believe that this war would
be the last one.  He wanted to protect people from the truth about humanity. 

But he found Little
Cove much changed.  It was odd to go into Cooper’s store and not hear Gladie
Cooper’s inquiring voice.  It was strange to see Valmond Ouellette out on his
boat working with his two remaining daughters.  His own household was decimated
and he missed his sisters and brother, as well as his mother.  He felt the loss
of Tim and Robbie; he missed Owen and little Davey and regretted the pain of
loss that he saw in every face.  His father’s most of all.  His father was
different.  He had lost not just family members but his drive; his spirit.  It
seemed he was like a faint approximation of the man he used to be.

Alison graduated
from high school.  She hoped to go to college in Boston, to the same school her
father had attended.  “I don’t want to go too far away,” she confided,
burrowing into Sam’s arms.  Sam was proud of her, of her hopes to become a
doctor like her father, but his former aspirations to get an education and
leave Little Cove had faded.  He could be happy out on the water for the rest
of his life.

The letter that
came from Chaplain Hudson at the end of June confused him more than anything. 
It arrived on a dismal day.  It had been raining and windy for forty-eight
hours and they had been unable to go out fishing.  Reg had been out of the
house both days, only coming in for the supper meal and eating silently and
quickly.  Sam expected to see him at their bait shack near the wharf, where he
carried on working on nets or fixing lobster traps both days. He decided that
his father must have gone out walking, or sitting in the empty church where
Esther said he sometimes spent hours.  On the third day Sam found the bait
shack was empty and cold, so he shut the door and went over to get the mail.

Vern Cooper always
spoke eagerly with Sam.  He was pathetically fishing for stories about Tim and
this day was no exception.

“Morning, Sam.”

“Morning, Mr.
Cooper.  Nasty out today.”

“Ayuh.”  He handed
Sam the mail, then said, “Our Tim didn’t write home too often.  Wan’t much of a
kid for letter writin’.”

“No?”

The older man shook
his head.  “Bothered his mother somethin’ fierce when she’d see so many letters
comin’ from you to a certain young miss.”

“Well, no offense,
Mr. Cooper, but it is different writing to your girl than your mother.”  Sam
smiled at Vernon.

Mr. Cooper laughed
out loud.  “Ayuh.  You’re right there.”  He took out a rag and wiped the
already clean counter.  “I seen your father yesterday with that dark-haired
fella, used to work with him.”

“What?”

“Well, I thought it
was him.  They was walking out towards Alley’s woods.  Thought they musta been
talkin’ over old times.”

“It couldn’t have
been him.  That guy is out in New York with my chaplain from the army.”

“Oh.”  Mr. Cooper
pursed his lips and his bristly eyebrows drew together over his faded blue eyes
as he thought.  “I’m pretty sure it was him.  Got a good eye for faces.”

Sam shrugged and
thanked him.  He saw that one of the letters was from Tom Hudson so he hurried
home to read it.  He sat on the porch out from under the rain where Brute
thumped his tail briefly and groaned as he laid his head back on his paws.  Sam
rubbed Brute’s head and said quietly, “Poor old fella.”  Then he tore open the
envelope.

“Dear Friend
Sam,”
it
began. 
“My wife Ruth sends her greetings and her heartfelt thanks to you
for the part you had in redeeming my life from the pit, as it were.”  Sam
smiled at the typical speech.  It sounded just like his chaplain.  “She is
writing this letter for me as my assistant of late has gone.  Let me tell you
why.  I feel a bit like Saint Paul writing to Philemon.  If you need to refresh
yourself of the story, take the time now for it is relevant.

You know Aubrey
has been troubled since I first knew him.  In his time here with us he has
proven himself a useful and willing helper.  He is patient with the children
and kind to Ruth and her sister Naomi.

A few weeks ago
we had a new arrival at our home, a child who was the result of violence perpetrated
upon its mother.  And since that time Aubrey has been unusually withdrawn, even
sorrowing and unable to lift himself out of his dark moods.

When he consulted me about
clearing his conscience I recommended that he go to the one he harmed and ask
forgiveness and make amends in some way.  He has seemed afraid to do that.  But
a week ago he gathered himself together, said his goodbyes and told me he was
going to Little Cove.

Has he done some
violence to you or your family, Sam?  Or to someone in your town?  There seems
to be a direct connection to you, and in his unusual actions when we were in
France.  He wants to see you, I think.

I’m not
condoning anything he did, nor denying that justice needs to be met, but just
know that he is a man deeply troubled and seeks to make things right with you
or yours.”

Sam dropped the
letter and sought out his sister Esther.  She was in the kitchen, preparing
their noon meal, while the younger kids swirled about her seeking some relief
from the boredom of a rainy day.  Her skin was flushed with the heat from the
stove and her face was set in frustrated lines. 

He handed the
newspaper to William and said, “Go read the comics to the kids, in the other
room.”  They moved out of the kitchen and the sudden quiet made Esther smile
and sigh. 

“Thanks,” she said.

“Esther, sit down. 
I have to talk with you.”

She sat down at the
kitchen table, her face smoothing.  She lifted her shoulders tiredly and wiped
perspiration off her forehead.  “About what?”

“You remember
Aubrey Newell?”

“Of course.  He
lived here.” 

“After I left, did
anything happen with him?  Anything strange, or odd?”

Esther thought for
a moment.  She carefully folded her hands in front of her, looking at them
intently, rather than at him.  “I don’t know what it was, but something
happened with Cleo.  Remember how she flirted with him so much at first, then
just before you left for training she was so different towards him, hostile
almost.”

“She didn’t talk
with you about it?”

Esther shook her
head.  “She clammed up whenever he came around or we talked about him.  But
just before she died there was something.”  She stopped for a moment as her
eyes filled with tears.  She gulped.  “She needed to see Alison.  She was
desperate to see Alison, and after Allie finally came over and they spoke, she
died.  It was almost as if she were staying alive until she could talk with
her.”

Sam looked away
from his sister’s troubled face.  Esther had hardly spoken about all the death
she’d been witness to, and the stark reality of it now washed over him.  He
reached over and laid his hand on top of hers.  “I’m sorry…for all the hard
things you’ve been through.  I’m sorry that Cleo died, and the little ones. 
I’m sorry I wasn’t here to be a help.”

Esther sniffed and
straightened her shoulders.  “Anyway, I think you should speak with Alison.  I
don’t know if Cleo talked with her about anything concerning Aubrey, but there
was something happening that I didn’t know about.”  She drew her hands away and
looked at him carefully.

He returned her
gaze, trying to assess her change in demeanor.  Was she upset that she didn’t
know, or was she merely trying to keep herself together after remembering their
sister’s death?  He stood up.  “I guess I’ll go over to see her now.  Don’t
wait for me for lunch.”  He started for the door, then turned.  She had already
risen to resume her meal preparations.

“Have you seen Dad
this morning?”

Esther shook her
head.  “Not since breakfast. He said he probably wouldn’t be home till supper. 
Took some food with him.”

Alison was alone in
the kitchen, sitting at the table writing something.  When Sam tapped on the
door and leaned his head in, she smiled.  “Hi!”

She stood and practically fell
into his arms as soon as he removed his jacket.  He inhaled deeply and held her
for a long moment.

“I haven’t seen you
since yesterday,” she told him.

“Too long,” he
replied, gently kissing her before looking furtively around.  “Is Aunt Pearl
here?”

Alison shook her
head.  “They all went to clean out the teacher’s house.  I guess Rena Mayhew is
going to move in before the fall, so they’re doing some painting and
repairing.  Not that my father is very handy with a hammer and saw.”

“Good.  I need to
talk with you about something, alone.”  He urged her to sit back down and he
drew a chair beside her. 

Alison moved her
papers aside, brushed some stray curls away from her forehead and grinned at
him.  “You look so serious.  What is it?”

Sam began,
hesitatingly.  “Do you know of something that happened between Aubrey Newell
and my sister?”

Alison’s smile
faded.  She looked away from him, and her face paled.  When she didn’t answer,
he leaned towards her. 

“What happened? 
Did he hurt her?”

“How…” she
questioned.  She stopped and swallowed.  “How did you know?”

Sam brought the
letter from Tom Hudson, explaining to her that Aubrey went to the Hudson’s home
to help after the chaplain was injured.  He showed her the letter and watched
as she read it.  Her hands, as she held it, began to tremble, and her breath
came in short gasps.  Her eyes filled with tears and as she returned the letter
to him she began moaning.  She pushed away from the table suddenly and ran out
the back door.

The rain was
heavier now, and Sam had to squint to see Alison flying across the back yard. 
He caught her under the maple tree and pulled her to him.

“No,” she cried as
he held her against his chest.  “No, I can’t tell you.”

He held her away
from him by the shoulders.  “You have to tell me, Alison.  He’s coming here.”

“What?”  Her look
was wild and she tried to twist away from him, but he held on.  She stopped
resisting and began clinging to him desperately, still insisting, “I can’t tell
you.”  Her tears were coursing down her cheeks, mixing with raindrops.

Sam held onto her for an age,
until her sobs subsided and they were both soaked.  Her look, when she finally
met his eyes, held such misery that Sam’s mouth went dry and his heart pounded
in fear.

He covered her wet
face with kisses.  “Tell me, Alison.  Please tell me.”

Her shoulders
slumped and she turned her face away.  “Don’t, Sam.  Stop.”

He waited, watching
as she gathered herself.  Her look was shattered and her voice shook as she
began.  “Aubrey tried to…” she stopped and swallowed, searching for the right
word.  “He tried to molest Cleo.”

Sam’s heart slammed
against his chest.  “What?”

She nodded, eyeing
him fearfully.  “Back before you left, the night of the bonfire, I think.”