Land Sakes (21 page)

“Miss E., I'm ashamed to admit this, but I'm afraid to try. I used to think about doing something different, but I had put it out of my mind until you came along.” He smiled. “You intruded into my comfort zone and made me think about getting a life again.”

“Oh, come now. It wasn't me. You had to stick with this job long enough to get tired of it. Now you can quit.”

“No, I can't. You have to realize, Miss E., that since I was fourteen years old I've been isolated from society. In this job I'm still isolated. I'm not sure I can handle what it takes to live on the outside. I don't have skills of any kind.”

I laughed. “You're a good actor. You could go to Hollywood and play the same role you're playing now.” The waiter was serving our main course.

“You could drive a cab, couldn't you?”

“Cab drivers are tough. I don't think I could hold my own with the public the way they do.”

“How about driving a truck?”

“Truck drivers are tough too.”

“Percival, where's your faith?”

He didn't answer me. I reached in my pocketbook and handed him a Gospel of John. “Try this.”

Flipping open the pages, he mumbled, “My mother had a New Testament she used to read... I don't know what happened to it. Thanks, Miss E.” He slipped the Gospel in his pocket. “What are we going to have for dessert?”

“I'll take whatever you order. Percival...” I was on the verge of asking him if he knew Mrs. Winchester loved Philip, but I thought better about it and didn't ask. I probably should keep that to myself.

Maybe if we get through tomorrow without any more excitement, we can settle down on the boat and then I'll try to find some way to help her face the facts
.

21

The next morning the telephone woke me up. It was Barbara. “Miss E., where have you been? I lost track of you—is everything okay?”

“Yes, we're okay. How are things at Priscilla Home?”

“That's what I wanted to tell you. That war horse of a director has left, and the board is looking for a replacement.”

“I'm sorry she didn't work out. Do you know if they have any prospects?”

“No, I don't know.”

“This must be hard on Nancy.”

“It is, but we're all trying to do everything we can to make it easy for her. How is Mother?”

“She's doing okay. We leave tomorrow, you know.”

“Yes, I know. You'll enjoy that cruise. Did the dogs give Percival much trouble?”

“At times they've been a handful.”

“I guess Mother has dragged you to cemeteries all over the country.”

“It's not been bad. Today we're going to Port Coquitlam to visit the grave of Terry Fox.”

“For goodness sake, who's he?”

“Your mother told me a little bit about him last night. He was eighteen when he lost his right leg to cancer. Then after a couple of years he decided to run all the way across Canada to raise money for cancer research.”

“That's amazing.”

“It is. Howsoever, the cancer came back on him and he couldn't finish the race. In a few months he died, but people were so inspired by his courage they raised a lot of money in his honor—as much as three hundred million dollars, Mrs. Winchester said.”

“That's great. Well, have fun. Listen, I gotta get off the phone. Bon voyage! Take lots of pictures!”

“I'll send you a postcard. Give my love to everybody.”

“I will. Bye, now.”

After I hung up, Mrs. Winchester asked me who that was.

“Barbara.”

“Oh.”

“Mrs. Winchester, you don't have to answer this if you don't want to, but does Barbara know you are not her real mother?”

“Oh yes, she knows. You see, Philip's mistress was married to another man when Barbara was born, so everything about the pregnancy and birth was kept secret. It was prearranged that when the baby was born, Philip was to have total custody. The woman is still his mistress,
at least one of them, but since Barbara grew up calling me Mother, she still does.”

“Then you raised Barbara?”

“Heavens, no! I lived in Newport, and Philip brought her up in his West Palm Beach home and sent her to private schools. Our paths seldom crossed, but Philip had her call me Mother to make it appear to be on the up-and-up. When she was old enough, he told her the truth. Barbara felt bad about it and feels especially sorry for me.”

“I see,” I said, but I really didn't. How could any woman put up with such an arrangement?
He is one low-down, mean, stinking, trashy, common man
! But I knew better than to say anything; I'd say too much and be sorry. So I changed the subject. “Mrs. Winchester, it's late and we better get dressed if we want to have that brunch today.”

“Brunch? Good. That will give us an early start to Port Coquitlam.”

Traffic was heavy, so it took us a while to get to Port Coquitlam. Once we were in the town we followed Shaughnessy Street, then turned onto Prairie Avenue. Percival turned again on Oxford, and the cemetery was on the right. Mrs. Winchester and I got out and walked to the lower section of the cemetery, where we found Terry Fox's stone. It was black and about knee-high.

Thinking about that young man dying so young made me sad. So many healthy young people seem to waste their lives, but when you come across one like Terry
Fox, it makes you realize how wonderful some of them are. What courage he must have had. I hoped Mrs. Winchester's poem would do him justice.

As soon as we were back in the car she took out her pen and the moleskin book and started scribbling. After she finished writing, she read what she had written, tore it up, and started writing another one.

It took her quite a long time to finish. “Here,” she said, “what do you think of this one?”

I read it to myself:

“That says it all, Mrs. Winchester. You have a great gift.”

That pleased her, and I was glad it did. If ever a body needed a little recognition, it was Mrs. Winchester. From what she had told me, that husband of hers made a doormat out of her, and I doubt if he or anybody else had ever sung her praises about anything. I was stewing inside.
All her life she's lived in a narrow rut. It's like she is dead while she is living, buried alive, you might say. Percival, too. He's in a rut, and it's like Splurgeon says, “The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth
.” I was beginning to really love them two, and I didn't want to
part company with them before I saw them out of their ruts and hopefully on the road to heaven.

On the way back to the hotel, Percival stopped at a bookstore. Without explaining why, he got out and went inside.

Mrs. Winchester looked at me and I looked at her. “That's odd,” she said. “He always lets me out before he goes shopping. This must be something urgent.”

“He likes to read, so he's probably in there buying a book.”

“Usually he gets books from the library.”

We waited and we waited. Finally, he came out carrying a package.

I think Mrs. Winchester was as curious as I was, but we didn't say anything. Percival called back to us, asking if we'd like to see if the ship was in dock, and of course, we did.

The port of Vancouver was quite some distance away, but Percival was an expert at getting through traffic. He had not got lost once on this entire trip. He managed to drive us close to the pier called the Canada Place, where the
Amsterdam
was docked. From there we could see not only the
Amsterdam
but also several other ships in dock.

I tell you, it was a sight to see—big boats, little tugboats, and boxcars stacked one on top of the other. I saw another passenger liner, but it didn't hold a candle to the
Amsterdam
—that was one big boat and was so well-kept it looked brand-new.

“The
Amsterdam
is the flagship of the Holland American fleet,” he said. “Beautiful, isn't she?”

Mrs. Winchester was impressed too. “Percival, how big is she?”

“She's nearly eight hundred feet long, has ten passenger decks, and twelve elevators.”

“Where will we be staying?”

“You have the Penthouse Verandah Suite right up there with the captain. You'll have your own verandah where you can have lunch and enjoy the scenery as you float by.”

I asked him if he had been on this cruise.

He smiled. “No, but I read everything about this ship and the cruise you're taking. You'll sail the Inside Passage to Ketchikan, Juneau, Glacier Bay, and Sitka.”

As we turned to get back in the car, he said, “Oh, by the way, I read that Gospel of John last night.”

“You did?”

“Yes, and today I bought myself a Bible. While you and Mrs. Win
chus
ter are cruising, I plan to start reading it all the way through.”

“That's great, Percival!”

Oh, I tell you, I was thrilled to hear that, and I promised myself I would pray for him every day.

I climbed in the car behind Mrs. Winchester, and Percival shut the door. Just as he started the engine, I noticed a black car in back of us; it pulled out when we did and followed close behind. I kept looking out the back window, and that car followed us until we were on the freeway. Somehow a truck cut in between us, and after that I lost sight of the car. It might be nothing, but I didn't like the looks of it.

22

The next day as we were boarding the ship, I kept a sharp lookout for anything suspicious. As far as I could tell, everything and everybody seemed to be on the up-and-up. White uniformed officers and crew welcomed us like we were royalty, and I breathed a sigh of relief now that we were safely aboard.

A white-gloved, foreign-looking steward took us up on the elevator to the Penthouse Verandah Suite. When I walked in, the first thing I noticed were the windows; they went from the floor to the ceiling. What a view we would have once we were out of the harbor! I couldn't wait to see those snow-capped mountains and green forests pictured in the brochure.

The penthouse had four rooms—a living room, dining room, bedroom, and dressing room, as well as a pantry, half bath, and a bathroom with whirlpool bath and shower. I was all agog as I walked around checking out everything. For Mrs. Winchester there was a king-size bed and for me a sofa bed. If they had put a stove in
there, a body could set up housekeeping, because it had a refrigerator, a minibar, a VCR, and almost everything needed to keep house.

I walked out on the terrace, where there were chairs and tables. I had read all the brochures about the cruise, and there was so much to see and do on that ship I was anxious to take it all in. Howsoever, I knew Mrs. Winchester would not take in much of it, because when we were in those fancy hotels she didn't take advantage of the spa, the pool, or shops. As for me, I didn't want to miss a thing.