When the Bough Breaks (9 page)

As I near the house, the first thing I hear is Eddie wailing inconsolably. I rush indoors to find Father pacing back and forth in the kitchen, trying to shush the baby.

“I'm so sorry, Father. Has he been crying for long?” I take Eddie and rub his back.

“He started almost as soon as you left. It's alright, Millie, there's no need to get upset – babies do cry.”
As if I didn't know that!

I give Eddie a drink of cool boiled water and change him, and he's asleep in a few minutes. I realize that this is the first time I've seen Father holding Eddie. I go down to make a cup of tea.

Hamish comes clattering in. “I'm starved, Millie.”

“Would you like a glass of milk and a slice of corn bread? Father says you've been a great help to him today.”

He gulps down the milk and bread. Hamish is always hungry. He's grown a lot this summer.

“We had a big cleanup, and I helped Pa finish a boot scraper for Mrs. Price. Farmer Price came in and asked how I liked having a baby brother around. I said he was alright, but too young to be much use, and he laughed and said I didn't sound too enthusiastic. Well, what was I supposed to say?”

I can't help smiling as I listen to him talk almost as fast as he downed his milk – one huge gulp! I suddenly feel years older than him.

“Be quiet going up to bed, won't you, Hamish? That naughty boy has only just stopped crying and hasn't given Father a moment's peace all evening.”

I carry two cups of tea into the living room and ask, “Father, is it alright if I talk to you for a minute?”

Father folds up his newspaper. “Are the boys getting too much for you to handle, Millie?”

“No … yes … only sometimes. It's about Eddie.”

“What about him – is anything wrong?”

“No, but summer vacation will be over in two weeks. What are we going to do with Eddie? I mean, who will look after him while I am in school? We have to find someone kind and used to babies … someone we can trust.”

“Someone to take him over, you mean?”

“Yes.”
Why is this conversation so difficult?

“I'll get it sorted out in lots of time, Millie, I promise.” He unfolds the paper again.

“And, Father, you will let me know who you consider, won't you? So we can talk it over.”

“Yes, I will. Off to bed; you have had a long day.” He looks up and smiles at me, but I can tell he's thinking about something else.

It's Friday afternoon, and the weather is no cooler than it has been all week. I'm perched on the high wooden stool in the sweltering alcove at the back of the drugstore. I have been writing labels for the last hour, and it's so hot back here that every few minutes I have to wipe my hands on an old rag, so as not to smudge the ink. Mr. Mercer is always complaining that none of the ten physicians in town write their prescriptions legibly enough for him to read without ruining his eyesight. I'd prefer him not to have to complain about my penmanship too. I get up and stretch, my dress sticking to the back of my legs. I can hear Mr. Mercer patiently explaining the merits of the latest baby cereal to a customer. “Pablum,” I hear him say, not for the first time, “is fortified with the vitamins necessary to an infant's growth, and we recommend it most highly.” I wish I could afford to buy some for Eddie, but it's expensive and he's doing well without
it. I'm quite proud of the way I trick him into eating his oatmeal by dipping the teaspoon into the applesauce he loves so much, first.

I sit down and begin to write again. Dozens of bottles of medicine and pills stand in neat rows on the shelf above me. I'm writing the last label when I hear that husky voice I never wanted to hear again, saying, “I'll have to think about it.”

My pen slips, leaving an untidy line scrawled across the date.
Oh, no, that's a label wasted!
Mr. Mercer always counts them. I'll have to use a new one.
Maybe this once, he won't notice.
Just as I'm finishing, the door bell chimes.
Is she leaving the store?
I hurry down the steps onto the main floor, almost holding my breath.
Is Elsie Bates, the Gypsy woman, ever going to leave town?
There she is now, peering through the glass, looking at the window display I dusted earlier. The sun is behind her. I turn away, not wanting her to notice me. But there's no way I can mistake her straggly hair, her bowed shoulders, or those deep-set burning eyes.

I bend down behind the counter and pick up the wastebasket to empty round the back of the store. When I come in again, Mr. Mercer says, “I wondered where you had got to, Millicent. I see you have finished the labels. Excellent.”

I glance towards the window – she's gone. Trying my best to sound casual, I ask, “The customer who was here
a moment ago, sir … did she buy the cereal you recommended? I couldn't help overhearing your conversation.”

“No, not this time. She did buy a pacifier, however. That particular customer comes in on several afternoons around this time to enquire about baby products. Occasionally she buys some little thing, such as a packet of safety pins. What she really needs is guidance; she seems somewhat unsure of herself. She mentioned that she will be taking care of a baby shortly – her sister's child, I believe.”

All of a sudden I feel dizzy and have to hold on to the counter to steady myself.

“Are you feeling well, Millie? You look pale.”

“I'm quite alright, thank you, sir.” I give him a big smile to prove it. “I'll go and unpack that shipment that came in earlier.”

The last thing I need is for Mr. Mercer to send me home because he thinks I'm too tired to work.
Wouldn't Denise just love that?
I ran into her at the market earlier in the week. She barely glanced at Eddie and said, “How you manage all you do is a riddle to me, Millie. Don't forget I'm prepared to take over from you at the drugstore anytime. My mama feels it is a most suitable environment for me.” I didn't bother to answer her.

Elsie Bates said she's working at the old people's home. It's a long walk from that part of town in this heat.
Is she telling Mr. Mercer the truth about her sister's baby?

I finish putting the new stock on the shelves, just as the clock strikes the half hour. I hang up my work pinafore behind the door of the alcove and ask Mr. Mercer, “Would you like me to do anything else before I go home, Mr. Mercer?”

“Yes, please take your father the bottle of linseed oil he wanted.” He hands it to me, wrapped neatly in brown paper. I'll walk past the forge on my way home. It feels good to be outside: I take in deep breaths of air. I wish I could stop getting upset every time I see Mrs. Bates. I want to believe that she told Mr. Mercer the truth. There is no reason for her to lie to him. She's doing exactly what she told me that day in the garden: she plans to leave when she gets what she needs. She's managing to buy a few little things for her sister's baby, so that she doesn't arrive in Port Hope empty-handed. I convince myself that I don't have anything to be concerned about anymore….

I pick up Eddie from Grace's house, and push the buggy towards the forge. Father and Farmer Price are busy talking, their backs to the open door. Suddenly they turn to one another and shake hands, and I overhear Father say, “It's a generous offer, Dan. I accept. You'll have no cause for regret.”

I hesitate to interrupt, and quickly pass by before they see me. I can give Father the oil later. Farmer Price is around an awful lot lately and seems so interested in
our family. It is good for Father to have a friend to talk to, but … but …
don't start imagining things again.

Supper is easy tonight, some cold meat and salad and a loaf of crusty bread, bought at the market yesterday.

Father says, “I'll be gone all day tomorrow. I'm interested in some tools that may be going cheap at auction at Fox's Corner. No need to wait supper for me, Millie.”

“Can I come too, Pa? Please?” Hamish asks.

“Not this time, son. I have several farms I'll be calling on, but after you've swept the forge and locked up – and I'm relying on you to do that before you go off to play, Hamish – you can have the rest of the day to yourself.”

When do I get time for myself?
But, I'm not being fair. I have my tea party to look forward to on Sunday, and working at the drugstore makes me feel … I don't know … like a person, I guess … not just Millie, having to keep house long before I'm ready.

“PROMISE ME YOU'LL KEEP US TOGETHER”

A
fter I come home from the drugstore, next day, I make a sandwich for both Hamish and myself, and we sit outside to eat. I was kept busy all morning, running to fill customers' orders, and then told to rearrange a display that Mr. Mercer had approved of only last week. I am tired and out of sorts.

What I'm longing to do is to take an apple and a book and go somewhere shady to read – the way I used to sometimes, when Mother was still alive….

After we've finished eating, knowing Hamish will be off in a flash to play with his friends, I remind him that school will be starting in a couple of weeks and we need to sort out his clothes. The look on his face tells me we're in for a battle.

“It won't take long, and then you can go out. Those overalls you're wearing need letting down, so that means your fall pants will likely be too short as well. Just try them on, please; if I can't fix them, I guess we'll have to buy you a new pair.” Unwillingly, Hamish trails upstairs after me.

“Bring out your school clothes and let's see if they'll still do. Meanwhile, Eddie's overdue for his afternoon nap – he's worn-out from the heat.”

“I'm not changing while you're in here.”

“I'll put Eddie in his crib, and then wait outside till you call me.”

I leave the boys and wait. Five minutes pass by, and there has not been a sound from Hamish. I knock softly and go in. Hamish is lying on his bed reading a comic. He jumps to his feet and says, “They fit me alright. I promised Robbie I'd come over straight after lunch. He's waiting for me to help him, and Pa said I could go.”

I know perfectly well he has not tried on his pants.
Does he think I don't see through him?

“As soon as I see that the pants fit, you can go, Hamish.”

“I already told you, they fit fine.”

“Let me be the judge of that. Mother wouldn't like you to wear clothes to school that you've obviously outgrown.” The minute the words are out of my mouth, I wish I hadn't said them. Hamish doesn't need reminding
that I'm taking over another task that Mother always did. I start again, forcing myself to speak to Hamish as nicely as possible: “Please, Hamish, I'll turn around and I won't look till you tell me to. The minute I see whether the pants will do, you can go off to build your fort – you'll have hours to play before supper time.”

He mutters and grumbles, and hisses, “You're not to look until I say.” When he finally lets me turn around, it's all I can do not to laugh. Hamish must have grown a foot taller this summer – his pants are way too short for him.

“We'll go out and buy you a new pair first thing on Monday, the minute I finish the wash. These won't even do for play. Both Zeller's and Claxton's have back-to-school sales on, so we should be able to buy a nice pair for seventy-five cents, perhaps less.”

“These ones will do, I've told you. I like them, Ma bought them for me, and I don't want a new pair.”

I grab his hand and drag him into my room. I open the wardrobe doors, so he can see himself in the mirror. “Hamish, look, I could cut them down for shorts for now if you want, but they won't keep you warm in the fall. Don't worry, there's enough money in the fund for a new pair.”

Hamish is spoiling for a fight. His cheeks redden and he pushes out his bottom lip: “If you think that I'm going to go shopping with my sister, pushing my baby brother in a buggy, and have everyone look at us; and
then try on pants in a store, with you waiting and Eddie yelling, you can think again. I won't go and you can't make me.” He folds his arms and glares at me.

“Hamish, it's a sale. You have to try them on to see if they are the right size; the salesclerk won't exchange sales merchandise.”

“Too bad. I am not going shopping with you, so there.”

My patience is at an end. “Hamish, can't you, for once, do something without a big argument? You're spoilt; you should be pleased you're getting something new to wear to school.” I feel like shaking him.

“You can't make me go!” His voice becomes louder and louder, and Eddie starts to whimper. “And don't call me spoilt! You always want to get your own way.”

“Now, see what you've done – you've woken your brother. Honestly, I'm fed up with the pair of you. I never get a moment's peace.” I go back into the boys' room and pick up the baby.

Hamish follows me. “Pa is going to send Eddie to the Prices, so you'll have lots of peace and quiet then, won't you?” he says defiantly.

“I don't believe you – you're making it up. You should be ashamed of yourself,” I say.

“I am not making it up, Miss Millie Bossy Carr, and if you don't believe me, just ask Pa when he comes home. If you want to know, I heard Farmer Price say, ‘The missus
can't wait to have a baby to take care of again.’” Hamish rushes downstairs.