Outing of the Heart (75 page)
Read Outing of the Heart Online
Authors: Lisa Ann Harper
PS. One day can we be together properly?
PPS. I wrote this poem for you, with my love.
âYes, thanks, Mel. I think it would be a good idea to visit us for the weekend. Tenille is looking paler than ever with the circles under her eyes getting darker. I can't do anything to get her out of this black mood. She's not eating properly and is completely withdrawn, except for answering when spoken to. I feel so awful about it all. Things are not good here.'
âHang on, Dorrie. We'll get everything back on track. How about I get Roger to drive us tonight after work. We'll not stop for dinner and get to your place about eightish. How's that? I think better than waiting 'til Saturday morning. Roger can catch up on his sleep when we're there.'
âMel, you and Roger are good Samaritans.' Doris felt the load lightening. âI'll have to speak to Alex tonight and put him in the picture. I'm sure he must know something is amiss, but he's not asked and I've not said. I'll have something in the oven for you when you get here. This will be great. See you later.'
Feeling better, Doris went out to Tenille who was sitting in her favorite place under the big Maple, Betsy at her feet. She looked up from her book at her approach.
âWhat are you reading,' she enquired affably.
âIt's the history of the horse,' Tenille responded. Her words were pleasant enough, but her voice was flat. âI thought I would find out more about such a beautiful animal. It has been the servant of man for so many centuries and yet, unlike other animals that man has domesticated, it still requires to be broken. Strange that, isn't it?'
âTennie dear,' Doris didn't want to be distracted from her purpose, âI thought I'd let you know Carmel and Roger will be visiting us this weekend.' She stopped and intently scrutinized the face before her. âThat will be nice won't it?' She was hoping to see some of the old spark.
âYes,' she replied then returned to her book.
âYou will ⦠talk ⦠to them, won't you dear? I don't want you ⦠disappearing,' she said hesitantly, diffidence in the interactions with her daughter beginning to show.
âNo Mom, I won't ⦠disappear,' Tenille sighed. âIt will be a pleasure to see them.' She looked up at her mother, hovering over her.
âTruly,' she added and smiled. Doris felt encouraged. âThat's my Tennie.' She gave her shoulder a squeeze. âWant to give your mom a hand with supper?' she asked hopefully.
Tenille didn't, she wanted to be left alone, but her mother had been trying so hard to make up for things, she felt obliged to be co-operative. Her distress in all this upset was deep and she herself felt badly at being its cause. Nonetheless, she felt she had every right to lead her life as she wished. It hurt deeply to see her mother like this. There was a time when they'd been much closer, but Doris expected too much of her. She just couldn't live up to it. And now ⦠the final blow. This was like a cleaver between them; conflict beating a more bitter note in her heart, but what could she do?
She wanted to open up; would welcome the chance to tell of her joy and delight in her love for Sid, how wonderful and fulfilled she was. But fear wavered inside her, scraping her raw. Doris could not, would not listen. She could see no resolution. To her mother, it was all revolting; against the lord's teaching and the Christian ethic.
She exhaled a deep sigh and nodded to her mother. She would be along in a moment. Doris left.
She withdrew the letter from her book and read it again, knowing the words off by heart, but liking to hold in her hands something Sidonie had touched. Especially, she loved the part where she had written:
âYou are the best thing that ever happened to me and my love for you is pure, devoted and adoring.'
She stopped reading and held the letter against her bosom. An indefinable sense of melancholy invaded her spirit as her dreams stretched before her, seemingly forever unattainable, like a mirage.
In the open air the garden was warm and scented. Reflected sunlight skimmed off the white, wrought iron table and lit up the color of each rose, as if from inside. A fresh breeze played amongst the Maple and Lime trees and snapped the Black-eyed Susans into a lively dance.
Betsy lay contentedly on the grass, happily soaking up the sun, eyelids drooping sleepily. Her back was to Tenille, front paws placed either side of her head as she rested her chin between them. The steady rise and fall of her chest was having a soporific effect. Tenille looked up through the lacy canopy of leaves, rendered luminous by the filtered light, to the infinity of the crystal blue sky, her thoughts returning to Sidonie. She could see her face in close-up, the fine hairs running from above her ear down onto her cheek. She saw especially, the vivid cobalt of her eyes, with amber flecks like highlights, as they held her gaze. She could spend all her day looking. She was heartsore, so deep was her love. She heard her voice with its throaty laugh, saying in mock threat:
“Wait 'til I get you alone, I'll show you who's boss.”
The memory suffused her body with a hot rush, making her face glow and her heart beat faster.
“My darling, why does time pass so slowly?”
She let her hand drop and her head rest back against the seat, experiencing her sadness like a fist, clenched around her heart as her eyes misted. The heat of the day and her reverie filled her with lassitude, but she had to stir herself and go indoors.
Doris had already started. She set her daughter to the cutting of vegetables, needed for a goulash. As she bent her hands to the task, she let her mind relive the conversation she'd had with her dad. He had noticed the desolation of her mood; had been concerned for her welfare. She was sitting in the living room, she recalled and he had come to her, taken her hands in both of his and said: âI hate to see my daughter so upset.' He then asked gently if she could tell him what was troubling her. The concern in his bearing and the softness of his voice had undone her and she'd been unable to stem the tears that had flowed copiously down her cheeks. Through them she unburdened her heart and confessed to him her great love. She told him of the happiness and enchantment she experienced in her life now, since knowing Sid. It hadn't been 'til later she'd realized the risk she'd run. He could have responded like her mother ⦠with disgust, perhaps rejection even. She smiled to herself. He had sat there quietly, still holding her hands, eyes never moving from her face, at that time filled with anguish and despair.
âDad, I want so much to be with Sid,' she disclosed. âI would like us to find a place and for us to share our lives. I want you and mother to be a part of our lives too, but I can't see how any of this can be.' She had taken a tissue from the proffered box and wiped her eyes. âMom is so dead set against Sid. She thinks I'm just going through a weak period and that I'll get over it.'
She moved onto the next lot of veggies, as she remembered how vehemently she had declared that she wasn't and wouldn't. Alex had made no verbal response to this, just squeezed her hand in mute sympathy for her plight, a wealth of tenderness pouring from him. Not until she had finally talked herself out, had he counselled her with mature words of wisdom.
PPS. I wrote this poem for you, with my love.
People must be somewhere,
This I know.
Yet, when here I am alone,
My spirit brought so low,
Why is it you are there?
The sun that warms the earth,
Disdainful, in its course above,
To bring us our sustaining weather,
Shines alike on you,
But not on both of us together.
One look into those eyes
Whose glances, my heart pierce,
It's hard to minimize
A yearning that's this fierce.
The moon rides the night sky.
In the heavens I see the stars,
But on you they do not shine.
So when I gaze, I sigh.
For those you see, aren't mine.
How can I stand such torment?
The pain of separation?
To be with you is all I ask.
Not this total desolation.
If only I could place my lips to yours.
Could feel the beating of your heart.
Could press you close against my breast,
No more to be apart â¦
Ah then, my Love,
Then would I be at rest.
This I know.
Yet, when here I am alone,
My spirit brought so low,
Why is it you are there?
The sun that warms the earth,
Disdainful, in its course above,
To bring us our sustaining weather,
Shines alike on you,
But not on both of us together.
One look into those eyes
Whose glances, my heart pierce,
It's hard to minimize
A yearning that's this fierce.
The moon rides the night sky.
In the heavens I see the stars,
But on you they do not shine.
So when I gaze, I sigh.
For those you see, aren't mine.
How can I stand such torment?
The pain of separation?
To be with you is all I ask.
Not this total desolation.
If only I could place my lips to yours.
Could feel the beating of your heart.
Could press you close against my breast,
No more to be apart â¦
Ah then, my Love,
Then would I be at rest.
LETTER FROM SIDONIE TO TENILLE.
Woodbine Racetrack.
Rexdale, Ontario.
Thurs. July 25th.
Hi Babe,
Your letter gave me so much happiness, you can't imagine. (And your poem transported me to raptures). You're right, I returned home that day never having felt more miserable in my life. I was a whole bundle of feelings on many different levels. It hurt having to obey your mother with dumb obedience, but I felt I couldn't say anything in my defence. I didn't want to risk making things worse for you. I understand when there's only one child in the family, the parents take it much harder. You're the sole object of her apprehension and as such, receive the full force of her anger and disappointment.
I could see how distressed you were. I wanted to roll up into a small ball. Believe me, my love, it tore at the very centre of my being, to have to leave like that, unable to comfort you and yes ⦠make a sincere vow at that moment that something like this would never happen to us again. One day we will be together properly, as you put it. We will look for a place of our own. Not to be dependent on renting a room somewhere. That's not good enough for you. I want the best and if I can't afford it now ⦠after graduation, when I go into private practice, I'll be able to give you all the things you've ever dreamed of. I swear it.
After leaving you I drove straight back to the Residence. I hardly remember the journey. I was so miserable and could think only of that dreadful moment when your mother walked in and we were both immobilized. Frozen in horror was more like it. I felt so bad, not for myself, but for you. I knew instinctively what your mom's reaction would be and I knew you'd recoil from the severity of her censure. (Although I have to admit, I had no idea of the strength of her religious beliefs at the time. I'd not heard much of that side of her nature from you before, or at least had not taken in the significance of her faith).
Darling, I wanted nothing more than to bundle you up right there and then and take you with me, out of that house, but I feared you'd probably not come. Until your letter, I didn't know if all this business had changed your feeling toward me. At that time I wasn't sure if you could be suffering from self-loathing, as seen through your mother's eyes. The thought crossed my mind you could be regretting your association with me. You see, you didn't look at me when you got up and went to your room. You just left and I was alone, not sure what to do, except knowing I had to pack and leave. Once I'd collected my belonging, I felt I couldn't go back.
Leaving the house like that made me feel dirty, like I'd done something real bad. Ten, I know that loving you is exactly the reverse. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and my love for you is pure, devoted and adoring. I know what I feel for you is good and when we're together it feels so right. My world too, seems a better place when you are in it, where everything is possible and together we can accomplish great things. Without you I feel unsettled and uncentered, like a windblown flame. Being with you gives me an inner feeling of peace and of course, that inner excitement, which I love. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. It's wonderful and I want it never to stop. I just can't get enough of it and I can't get enough of you. Please hurry and get well, my Sweetness. I could still look after you at your place, but I suppose now, more than ever, you'll have to stay at your parents'. Your mother would never let you come back to me.
My darling Ten, I'll have to close. Thank you so much for your letter. You can't know how awful it's been, these last days, not hearing from you and being unable to call. It was like being set adrift on the open sea, alone and no land in sight, only my memories with their attendant fears, for company. They kept playing tricks on me until I was sure you hated me and would never want to see me again.
My Angel, I love you. I'm missing you dreadfully. I count the days 'til we're together again.
Your devoted Sid.
Woodbine Racetrack.
Rexdale, Ontario.
Thurs. July 25th.
Hi Babe,
Your letter gave me so much happiness, you can't imagine. (And your poem transported me to raptures). You're right, I returned home that day never having felt more miserable in my life. I was a whole bundle of feelings on many different levels. It hurt having to obey your mother with dumb obedience, but I felt I couldn't say anything in my defence. I didn't want to risk making things worse for you. I understand when there's only one child in the family, the parents take it much harder. You're the sole object of her apprehension and as such, receive the full force of her anger and disappointment.
I could see how distressed you were. I wanted to roll up into a small ball. Believe me, my love, it tore at the very centre of my being, to have to leave like that, unable to comfort you and yes ⦠make a sincere vow at that moment that something like this would never happen to us again. One day we will be together properly, as you put it. We will look for a place of our own. Not to be dependent on renting a room somewhere. That's not good enough for you. I want the best and if I can't afford it now ⦠after graduation, when I go into private practice, I'll be able to give you all the things you've ever dreamed of. I swear it.
After leaving you I drove straight back to the Residence. I hardly remember the journey. I was so miserable and could think only of that dreadful moment when your mother walked in and we were both immobilized. Frozen in horror was more like it. I felt so bad, not for myself, but for you. I knew instinctively what your mom's reaction would be and I knew you'd recoil from the severity of her censure. (Although I have to admit, I had no idea of the strength of her religious beliefs at the time. I'd not heard much of that side of her nature from you before, or at least had not taken in the significance of her faith).
Darling, I wanted nothing more than to bundle you up right there and then and take you with me, out of that house, but I feared you'd probably not come. Until your letter, I didn't know if all this business had changed your feeling toward me. At that time I wasn't sure if you could be suffering from self-loathing, as seen through your mother's eyes. The thought crossed my mind you could be regretting your association with me. You see, you didn't look at me when you got up and went to your room. You just left and I was alone, not sure what to do, except knowing I had to pack and leave. Once I'd collected my belonging, I felt I couldn't go back.
Leaving the house like that made me feel dirty, like I'd done something real bad. Ten, I know that loving you is exactly the reverse. You are the best thing that's ever happened to me and my love for you is pure, devoted and adoring. I know what I feel for you is good and when we're together it feels so right. My world too, seems a better place when you are in it, where everything is possible and together we can accomplish great things. Without you I feel unsettled and uncentered, like a windblown flame. Being with you gives me an inner feeling of peace and of course, that inner excitement, which I love. No one has ever made me feel the way you do. It's wonderful and I want it never to stop. I just can't get enough of it and I can't get enough of you. Please hurry and get well, my Sweetness. I could still look after you at your place, but I suppose now, more than ever, you'll have to stay at your parents'. Your mother would never let you come back to me.
My darling Ten, I'll have to close. Thank you so much for your letter. You can't know how awful it's been, these last days, not hearing from you and being unable to call. It was like being set adrift on the open sea, alone and no land in sight, only my memories with their attendant fears, for company. They kept playing tricks on me until I was sure you hated me and would never want to see me again.
My Angel, I love you. I'm missing you dreadfully. I count the days 'til we're together again.
Your devoted Sid.
LETTER FROM CARMEL TO DORIS.
Barkdene Hills Ave.,
Scarborough, Ontario,
Thurs. July 25th
Dear Dorrie,
Thank you for your letter. I was sorry to learn of the sadness visited upon you by this recent development. Roger and I have prayed for Tenille and hope that the power of the Lord will shine through and touch her that she may see the error of her ways. (I think you have no need to worry about her future, Dorrie). Tenille was a good wife to Jerred so I do believe this is just a passing thing.
Aren't there any nice young men you can introduce her to at church? Jerred was a nice man too, but let's face it, he was that much older than Tennie and pretty set in his ways. Roger and I were not really surprised he proved too much for her, although I know you felt it was a good catch at the time. You weren't to know how things would turn out.
Well, that's all behind us now. We've got to do what's best for Tennie, to get her back on the right path. Would you like us to come visit this weekend? Our being there might help soften the atmosphere a bit. What do you say? You know we'll do anything we can to help.
Your loving sister,
Carmel.
Friday afternoon found Doris reading Carmel's letter. There and then, she decided to give her a ring, too impatient to worry about timing. Carmel answered and hearing Doris on the line, remarked: âI guessed you'd ring. So you got my letter.'Barkdene Hills Ave.,
Scarborough, Ontario,
Thurs. July 25th
Dear Dorrie,
Thank you for your letter. I was sorry to learn of the sadness visited upon you by this recent development. Roger and I have prayed for Tenille and hope that the power of the Lord will shine through and touch her that she may see the error of her ways. (I think you have no need to worry about her future, Dorrie). Tenille was a good wife to Jerred so I do believe this is just a passing thing.
Aren't there any nice young men you can introduce her to at church? Jerred was a nice man too, but let's face it, he was that much older than Tennie and pretty set in his ways. Roger and I were not really surprised he proved too much for her, although I know you felt it was a good catch at the time. You weren't to know how things would turn out.
Well, that's all behind us now. We've got to do what's best for Tennie, to get her back on the right path. Would you like us to come visit this weekend? Our being there might help soften the atmosphere a bit. What do you say? You know we'll do anything we can to help.
Your loving sister,
Carmel.
âYes, thanks, Mel. I think it would be a good idea to visit us for the weekend. Tenille is looking paler than ever with the circles under her eyes getting darker. I can't do anything to get her out of this black mood. She's not eating properly and is completely withdrawn, except for answering when spoken to. I feel so awful about it all. Things are not good here.'
âHang on, Dorrie. We'll get everything back on track. How about I get Roger to drive us tonight after work. We'll not stop for dinner and get to your place about eightish. How's that? I think better than waiting 'til Saturday morning. Roger can catch up on his sleep when we're there.'
âMel, you and Roger are good Samaritans.' Doris felt the load lightening. âI'll have to speak to Alex tonight and put him in the picture. I'm sure he must know something is amiss, but he's not asked and I've not said. I'll have something in the oven for you when you get here. This will be great. See you later.'
Feeling better, Doris went out to Tenille who was sitting in her favorite place under the big Maple, Betsy at her feet. She looked up from her book at her approach.
âWhat are you reading,' she enquired affably.
âIt's the history of the horse,' Tenille responded. Her words were pleasant enough, but her voice was flat. âI thought I would find out more about such a beautiful animal. It has been the servant of man for so many centuries and yet, unlike other animals that man has domesticated, it still requires to be broken. Strange that, isn't it?'
âTennie dear,' Doris didn't want to be distracted from her purpose, âI thought I'd let you know Carmel and Roger will be visiting us this weekend.' She stopped and intently scrutinized the face before her. âThat will be nice won't it?' She was hoping to see some of the old spark.
âYes,' she replied then returned to her book.
âYou will ⦠talk ⦠to them, won't you dear? I don't want you ⦠disappearing,' she said hesitantly, diffidence in the interactions with her daughter beginning to show.
âNo Mom, I won't ⦠disappear,' Tenille sighed. âIt will be a pleasure to see them.' She looked up at her mother, hovering over her.
âTruly,' she added and smiled. Doris felt encouraged. âThat's my Tennie.' She gave her shoulder a squeeze. âWant to give your mom a hand with supper?' she asked hopefully.
Tenille didn't, she wanted to be left alone, but her mother had been trying so hard to make up for things, she felt obliged to be co-operative. Her distress in all this upset was deep and she herself felt badly at being its cause. Nonetheless, she felt she had every right to lead her life as she wished. It hurt deeply to see her mother like this. There was a time when they'd been much closer, but Doris expected too much of her. She just couldn't live up to it. And now ⦠the final blow. This was like a cleaver between them; conflict beating a more bitter note in her heart, but what could she do?
She wanted to open up; would welcome the chance to tell of her joy and delight in her love for Sid, how wonderful and fulfilled she was. But fear wavered inside her, scraping her raw. Doris could not, would not listen. She could see no resolution. To her mother, it was all revolting; against the lord's teaching and the Christian ethic.
She exhaled a deep sigh and nodded to her mother. She would be along in a moment. Doris left.
She withdrew the letter from her book and read it again, knowing the words off by heart, but liking to hold in her hands something Sidonie had touched. Especially, she loved the part where she had written:
âYou are the best thing that ever happened to me and my love for you is pure, devoted and adoring.'
She stopped reading and held the letter against her bosom. An indefinable sense of melancholy invaded her spirit as her dreams stretched before her, seemingly forever unattainable, like a mirage.
In the open air the garden was warm and scented. Reflected sunlight skimmed off the white, wrought iron table and lit up the color of each rose, as if from inside. A fresh breeze played amongst the Maple and Lime trees and snapped the Black-eyed Susans into a lively dance.
Betsy lay contentedly on the grass, happily soaking up the sun, eyelids drooping sleepily. Her back was to Tenille, front paws placed either side of her head as she rested her chin between them. The steady rise and fall of her chest was having a soporific effect. Tenille looked up through the lacy canopy of leaves, rendered luminous by the filtered light, to the infinity of the crystal blue sky, her thoughts returning to Sidonie. She could see her face in close-up, the fine hairs running from above her ear down onto her cheek. She saw especially, the vivid cobalt of her eyes, with amber flecks like highlights, as they held her gaze. She could spend all her day looking. She was heartsore, so deep was her love. She heard her voice with its throaty laugh, saying in mock threat:
“Wait 'til I get you alone, I'll show you who's boss.”
The memory suffused her body with a hot rush, making her face glow and her heart beat faster.
“My darling, why does time pass so slowly?”
She let her hand drop and her head rest back against the seat, experiencing her sadness like a fist, clenched around her heart as her eyes misted. The heat of the day and her reverie filled her with lassitude, but she had to stir herself and go indoors.
Doris had already started. She set her daughter to the cutting of vegetables, needed for a goulash. As she bent her hands to the task, she let her mind relive the conversation she'd had with her dad. He had noticed the desolation of her mood; had been concerned for her welfare. She was sitting in the living room, she recalled and he had come to her, taken her hands in both of his and said: âI hate to see my daughter so upset.' He then asked gently if she could tell him what was troubling her. The concern in his bearing and the softness of his voice had undone her and she'd been unable to stem the tears that had flowed copiously down her cheeks. Through them she unburdened her heart and confessed to him her great love. She told him of the happiness and enchantment she experienced in her life now, since knowing Sid. It hadn't been 'til later she'd realized the risk she'd run. He could have responded like her mother ⦠with disgust, perhaps rejection even. She smiled to herself. He had sat there quietly, still holding her hands, eyes never moving from her face, at that time filled with anguish and despair.
âDad, I want so much to be with Sid,' she disclosed. âI would like us to find a place and for us to share our lives. I want you and mother to be a part of our lives too, but I can't see how any of this can be.' She had taken a tissue from the proffered box and wiped her eyes. âMom is so dead set against Sid. She thinks I'm just going through a weak period and that I'll get over it.'
She moved onto the next lot of veggies, as she remembered how vehemently she had declared that she wasn't and wouldn't. Alex had made no verbal response to this, just squeezed her hand in mute sympathy for her plight, a wealth of tenderness pouring from him. Not until she had finally talked herself out, had he counselled her with mature words of wisdom.
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