Last Summer in Louisbourg (10 page)

“Sorry, we're full right now,” she heard the waitress say to someone at the door.

“If you'll wait in the hallway, it shouldn't be too long.”

“I've only come to deliver a message.” Andrea recognized Justine's voice. “And there she is, right over there.”

“Oh, Juss.”

“I'm sorry to interrupt your meal, Andrea, but…”

“That's okay. This is my mother. Mom, this is my roommate, Justine.”

“Hello,” said Justine hurriedly. “Jackie told me where you were. There's someone waiting to see you, like, right now. It's Marc,” Justine continued breathlessly.

“Who's Marc?” asked her mother.

“Marc's my brother,” explained Justine. “He's outside. He just wants to say hi to Andrea. He was hoping to stay for a while, but it turns out he has to go back right away.”

“Oh. Too bad,” said Andrea, trying not to sound crestfallen as she got up from her chair.

“I hope you won't be gone long,” cautioned her mother.

“Not a chance,” said Andrea glumly.

Marc Marchand was in front of the restaurant, shuffling his feet on the dusty surface of the road. When he saw Andrea, he held out a plastic supermarket bag with a small package in it. “Here's your piece of cake. Hope you like chocolate,” he offered.

“Sure. Thanks,” Andrea replied without enthusiasm. She didn't give a hoot about the birthday cake. It had only been an excuse to get together but evidently that wasn't going to happen now.

“I have to get back home or else my dad's gonna kill me,” said Marc half-jokingly.

“Why is that?”

“Because of the scallops.”

“The scallops?”

“Yeah. See, we're starting a scallop farm and the first couple of years it takes a lot of work, and right now is the season when we all pitch in and help,” he explained.

“A farm for scallops,” Andrea mused. She could only remember Justine talking about cows and pigs. “I thought they caught scallops in the ocean.”

“Oh, sure they do. But that's doing it the hard way. This new way they grow in cages made of net, deep down in the water. You can bring in a lot more of them…eventually.”

“No kidding,” remarked Andrea, trying to sound interested, even though she didn't really understand what he was talking about.

“So, um, enjoy your cake…”

“Sure.”

“And…Justine was saying that maybe when you're finished working here, at the end of summer, maybe you'll come home then…with her…for a visit.”

“Sounds neat. I can meet your dog and all those hens and cows. And see those scallops running around the farm,” she quipped.

Marc laughed. He seemed to like her sense of humour. “Shellfish don't run. But I'd better. See ya.”

“See ya,” Andrea repeated as she turned to go back into the restaurant. In her absence Justine had occupied her empty chair. She and her mother were chatting away like old friends. Justine, Andrea figured, was probably telling her mother the story of her life. Whatever she was saying, it was making her mother smile. Her frown had disappeared and she looked as if she was enjoying herself. The bad news she was planning to tell Andrea would obviously have to wait.

Chapter Fifteen

That evening Andrea and her mother ate their supper in a little café next door to the inn. There were only three other customers, and her mother had deliberately chosen a table near the back, as far away from the other people as they could sit. They both ordered cheeseburgers and fries.

Andrea concentrated on making her meal last as long as possible, hoping to delay the inevitable. What was her mother going to tell her? Did they have to move again? That would be a royal pain, now that she had finally made some friends at her new school. Maybe her mother had lost her job. Maybe Brad had lost his. Were they going to be poor and hungry? Maybe it was even worse than that. Maybe her mother had been diagnosed with a fatal disease. She didn't look sick. She just looked very, very serious.

“Andrea, do you remember me telling you that I worked in a fish-packing plant a long time ago?”

“Sure, Mom, I remember,” Andrea replied, a bit wearily. Why did her mother want to reminisce about that? What more could she say about packing fish except that it had been a cold place to work, and hard on her hands and feet? Andrea had heard all this before.

“I never told you where it was, did I?”

Andrea thought about it for a moment. She had never heard the name of the place. It hardly mattered. She shook her head.

“It was in North Sydney,” said her mother.

Andrea looked up, only a bit surprised. Her mother came from Anderson's Arm, Newfoundland. But everyone knew Newfoundlanders sometimes had to go elsewhere to work. That was the way things were.

“I stayed over here for a year or so. It wasn't the best year of my life, as I think I've told you. I wasn't much older than you are now. When it was all over, I went back home to Anderson's Arm. I returned to high school and a year later I graduated. I've never regretted that.”

”I know, Mom,” nodded Andrea. She had heard that piece of advice before too. Maybe a hundred times.

“But there's one thing I've never told you, and I'm going to tell you now,” her mother continued, taking a deep breath and twisting her napkin.

Andrea looked at her mother's face apprehensively. “What?” she dared to ask.

“I…I had a baby…that year,” her mother said, getting the words out with difficulty.

“What?” blurted Andrea.

“It's true. A baby girl was born to me shortly before I returned home to Newfoundland. I…I gave her up for adoption. There just wasn't any other choice…for me…then.”

Andrea was dumbfounded. She couldn't think of anything appropriate to say. What does someone say when struck by a thunderbolt? Her mother had had a baby when she was, what, sixteen or seventeen years old. Why was she telling her about it now? That baby would be a grown-up person now. That baby…that woman…Andrea suddenly realized, would be her half-sister. A sister! She had always wanted a sister. Somewhere—out there in the world—she had one. It was all too much! She began to laugh uncontrollably. Then she choked and almost cried, while her mother sat across the table from her, biting her lower lip and looking guilty.

“Andrea, I…”

“Mom. Mom,” Andrea hiccuped. “It's okay, really. You just told me I've got a sister. It isn't funny, I know, but…somehow…it is kind of amazing. I always wanted a sister. I mean, I'll never know her, but just the idea of it…”

“I hope you're not angry,” said her mother in an uncertain voice.

“No way, Mom. Why would I be? I'm glad you finally told me. And I'll tell you something. You can trust me, I won't tell a soul,” Andrea promised.

“It doesn't have to be a secret any more.”

“Really? Does Brad know?” Andrea asked.

“Yes, I've told him. He doesn't have a problem with it.”

Andrea thought about that for a minute. Was everyone going to know about this? Was this a good idea? “Did my father know?” she asked.

“No. Albert didn't know. I didn't tell him. There didn't seem to be any reason to talk about it. We had you. We were a happy family. But, as the years go by, things change. You see…I now know where my first daughter is. I know her name. I came here to find her. She lives right here in Louisbourg.”

“Here? Oh my gawww…”

“I know. It really is incredible. That's why, when I heard you were coming here to work, I was, well, uncomfortable. I didn't like the idea of you coming to Cape Breton Island on your own, because of what had happened to me.”

“Oh, Mom.” Andrea sighed.

“You see, I had applied to an agency to try find my lost child a couple of years ago. You can make contact only if both the mother and the child make an application. It's been just a few months since she applied too, and I discovered where she lived. The name of this place has been in my mind so much.”

“What's her name?” asked Andrea, suddenly curious.

“Eleanor.”

Andrea repeated the name. Eleanor. My sister, Eleanor. Somehow she couldn't suppress more laughter, even though this wasn't funny either. Right here in this town she had a real, live sister named Eleanor. “What's her last name?”

“MacDonald.”

“Oh, Mom!” cried Andrea, convulsed with untimely mirth. “You won't believe how many people there are around here named MacDonald. There are thousands of them, columns and columns in the phone book. How on earth are you going to find Eleanor MacDonald?”

“Actually, that was the name of the family who adopted her. She has since been married, and she goes by her husband's name.”

“What's that?”

“Cormier. Her full name is Eleanor Jacqueline MacDonald Cormier. And I intend to find her.”

Andrea gasped and clapped her hand over her mouth. For the longest time she couldn't utter a word.

Chapter Sixteen

“Andrea! This is a nice surprise. Come on in,” invited Jackie Cormier hospitably. “I was just putting Kenzie to bed. It's story time, and you know how kids are about their bedtime stories. Make yourself at home, and I'll be with you shortly.”

Andrea entered the kitchen uneasily and sat on the edge of a chair. She could feel her heart pounding as she rehearsed in her mind what she had come to tell Jackie. This had to be the most intense experience of her life, and probably it soon would be the same for Jackie too. How do you tell someone this kind of news?

It had fallen to Andrea to do it when her mother totally lost her cool after Andrea explained that she and Jackie Cormier had been working together all summer.

“Break the ice for me. Please,” her mother had asked. “You already know her and I don't. I'm scared. What if it turns out she hates me because I had to give her up?”

“All right,” Andrea agreed soothingly, confident that Jackie would be truly happy to finally meet her birth mother. But now, sitting in this friendly kitchen, she wasn't quite so sure.

She could hear Jackie's voice reading to her son. It must have been amusing because every now and then Kenzie burst out laughing. Kenzie, she suddenly realized, was related to her too. She was—what—his aunt? His half-aunt? Aunt Andrea.

The story lasted about five more minutes. For Andrea, it seemed like five hours. Finally Jackie tiptoed down the darkened hall and emerged into the bright kitchen.

”I would have thought you and your mother might be out seeing the sights somewhere tonight,” Jackie said.

“No,” replied Andrea solemnly.

“Can I make you a cup of tea?” offered Jackie.

“I have to talk to you, Jackie. It's pretty serious.”

Jackie immediately sat down across the table and gave Andrea her full attention.

“Is something wrong?” she asked earnestly.

“Nothing's wrong. And this is not about me. It's about you.”

“Me?”

“Jackie, I need to know something.”

“What?”

“Is your full name Eleanor Jacqueline?” asked Andrea, trying to quell the tremor in her voice.

“Yes,” Jackie nodded, looking perplexed.

“And you did tell me you were a MacDonald before you got married?”

“Yes,” replied Jackie, wondering why any of this mattered to Andrea.

“Then I'll just come right out and say it,” said Andrea, clearing her throat. “Jackie, you know how you are adopted?”

Jackie leaned back and started to giggle, relieved that she wasn't about to hear some disturbing news. Finally she stopped and said, “Oh, Andrea, I am sorry. I didn't mean to make light of what you told me. It's just that…of course I know I'm adopted. I've always known that. My parents married late in life. They couldn't have kids of their own, so they chose me. Mom used to tell me about it from as far back as I can remember. She often described how they went to the hospital in North Sydney and there I was—just eight days old—and she always said that the minute she laid eyes on me she knew I was…I was…destined to be her little girl.”

Suddenly a tear ran down Jackie's cheek. She wiped it away and got up to find a tissue.

“Forgive me,” she said as she blew her nose. “It's just that it's a bit rough right now. Dad died three years ago and now that Mom has Alzheimer's…she isn't her real self.” Her voice trailed off into some far-away, sad place in her personal history.

“I'm really sorry, Jackie,” consoled Andrea.

Jackie regained her composure. “So how did you hear this? Not that it's a secret. I suppose Aunt Roberta told you, did she?”

“No, she never talks to us much.”

Jackie shook her head. “Poor old Roberta. She never was very friendly.”

“There's something else, now that I know your full name…” Andrea ventured.

“And what's that?”

“I know that you applied to find your birth mother.”

Jackie's expression changed abruptly, her eyes narrowing. “How did you…? The only person who knows that is Steve. You surely didn't talk to him. He's been away all summer. Who…?”

Andrea could feel her heart pounding again. She felt as if she was losing her voice. She cleared her throat and began. “The reason I know about your search for your real mother…is…because your mother and my mother are…is…the same person.”

Jackie stared at her in wide-eyed disbelief.

“Honestly! I'm not making this up. I only found out about it today. From my mom.”

“Your mother is my mother?” gasped an incredulous Jackie.

“That's it,” Andrea confirmed.

Jackie stared at Andrea hard for a few seconds, and it seemed as if she was going to start laughing again. Then she started shaking with sobs, and tears began rolling down her face. Suddenly Andrea wished she hadn't told her. Maybe someone from the agency should have written her a letter. Perhaps this kind of information was too overwhelming for anyone to cope with face to face. However, Jackie quickly regained her composure and spoke almost in her normal voice.

“Where is she? I want to see her.”

Andrea got to her feet, shaking with relief. “She's sitting on your front steps. Can I invite her in?”