What the Heart Keeps (23 page)

In
spite of the isolation of the house, more people came to it than Lisa would have anticipated. A farmer’s boy came once a week by boat with fresh meat, eggs, butter, and milk. Indians brought fish to sell, their squaws offering beadwork. Sometimes loggers travelling from one camp to another, on foot or on horseback, would notice the curtains at the windows of the cabin or washing on the line, and know that there were women there. Not once was there any trouble. They were without exception pleasant, ordinary men lonely for their wives or the sight of womenfolk, making some pretext to come to the door, hoping they would be invited to a meal. Harriet always found something for them, and they would wash their hands and slick down their hair before entering the house, reminding Lisa more of shy schoolboys than grown men engaged in some of the most dangerous work that was to be done anywhere. They were of all nationalities. More than once they were Norwegian. Their accents twisted a knife in her heart and she was always quiet and subdued after they had gone.

Henry
Twidle arrived in his gas-engined boat with mail and news of Minnie. She had made friends with a girl of her own age, the eldest daughter of a manufacturer’s representative who had moved into an empty house at Granite Bay. The wife had been a schoolteacher, specialising in music and the teaching of the piano. Minnie was attending the family lessons and enjoying sessions at the keys under expert instruction. The couple, whose surname was Jackson, were willing to take Minnie into the family until such time as she could rejoin Lisa, if that would be agreeable. The amount they wanted for her keep was negligible and Lisa knew she would be able to manage it by passing on the pocket-money wages she received from the Fernleys. She arranged with Henry how payment should be made through the post office and gave him letters to take back to Agnes and to Minnie.

While
her friendship with Harriet strengthened and deepened, Lisa’s relationship with Alan improved to a certain extent. A dangerous current reverberated between them. Lisa was uncomfortably convinced that Harriet was well aware of the tension that each brought about in the presence of the other, although she never made any reference to it by look or word. An open clash often occurred when Harriet was out of earshot. It happened when Lisa sought him out one day in his workshop to request once more that he make some accommodation for Minnie.

“
I know you don’t want her here,” she challenged heatedly out of her troubled conscience at leaving the girl at Granite Bay indefinitely.

“
You knew that from the start,” he gave back, not taking his attention from the reel of film he was re-splicing after removing a damaged length. “But I’ll fulfil the obligation thrust upon me sooner or later.”

“
Minnie will be grown up and married by then!”

“
That should solve the problem nicely,” he stated drily, still at his task. “Would you like a motion-picture show this evening?” “I’d rather have Minnie here.”

“
I’m not offering alternatives.”

She
swung out of the room. Trying to get the better of Alan was like beating one’s head against a brick wall. Later she watched the one-reel movies, the projector of polished mahogany and brass lit by an inner lamp and hand-cranked. The reels were old, products he had bought outright very cheaply from a contact he had in New York, but they were a wonder to Lisa. There was a love drama, cowboys and Indians with plenty of arrows and smashing of furniture in saloon fights, and lastly a comedy that made her rock with laughter. Harriet shared Lisa’s enjoyment, not having seen them before herself, and she had had Alan move the piano out in order that she could play accompaniments to suit the mood and pace of whatever was being shown on the screen, which was what she had done during their cinema days in Winnipeg.

Not
long afterwards, the couple left in the boat with his cinematographic equipment to put on a movie show further down the coast at Heriot Bay. Lisa declined an invitation to go with them, since it had come from Harriet and not from Alan, and she remained with Leo at the house. When they returned they had given shows almost non-stop for three nights at the local hotel. The hired room had been packed for each performance, lumbermen and others having come from miles around. The mirth of those recognising themselves and acquaintances on the lantern slides that alternated with the movies sealed the enormous success of the enterprising venture.

For
over a year Lisa lived on the east coast of Quadra Island. During that time she did visit Minnie, travelling with Henry and staying with Agnes and him. Although Minnie hugged her with love when she arrived and wept when she left again, there was no question of the child wanting to leave the Jackson family that was fostering her. Then the day came when Lisa made a special visit to Granite Bay.

“
The Fernleys are moving to the site of one of the sawmills along the Puget Sound, in the United States,” she told Mr. and Mrs. Jackson. “Alan Fernley has secured a highly paid position as chief engineer of a vast area, which means he will be away from home more than ever. That’s why I’m going with them because, although the location will not be lonely, it has just been confirmed that Harriet Fernley is expecting a baby, and she wants me to be with her. I have come to give Minnie the chance to accompany me to this new place. There will be accommodation for her this time.”

“
Oh dear!” Mrs. Jackson exclaimed with dismay. “We don’t want to lose her. She’s become one of the family.”

Minnie
was called into the room. At the age of thirteen she was maturing fast, fulfilling an early promise of good looks. Under Mrs. Jackson’s elocution instruction her speech had improved and she no longer dropped her aitches. Lisa was not sure that Evangeline Jackson, with whom Minnie had formed such a close friendship, was entirely the right influence, being a somewhat vain, flippant girl, but the steadying guidance of the parents seemed to be keeping a balance.

“
There wouldn’t be a school in the forests, would there?” Minnie questioned.

“
Not where we’re going to be,” Lisa replied. “You would have to rely on my teaching again. I’d do my best for you, but there wouldn’t be much in the way of treats. I daresay I could take you into Seattle to see the shops once or twice a year.”

Minnie
shook her head. “I’d like that, but if you don’t mind, I’ll stay here a while longer at Granite Bay. You see, most of all I’d miss my music lessons, and I’m learning to play really well, I believe.”

Lisa
returned to the east coast of the island in time to take over the packing from Harriet, who was into her fifth month of pregnancy and felt that the danger of losing this baby was over. Both she and Lisa were looking forward to the move from Quadra Island for reasons of their own. Lisa was thankful to be escaping the cramped quarters of the log house and Harriet was overjoyed to be returning to her homeland. All along she had wanted her baby to be born on United States soil. How else could her son be President one day?

As
for Alan, he was jubilant over his new appointment. “Just one more stint in the forests,” he told his wife in Lisa’s hearing, “and then we’ll be free to return to civilisation. I think Seattle should suit us. I looked over property while I was there being interviewed for my new appointment, and the city is growing like a mushroom. Just the place to open our own motion-picture house, wouldn’t you say, my love?”

For
a moment Harriet was speechless with joy. At the back of her mind there had always been the fear that when the right time came Alan would make the decision to open his cinema back in England. After all, he had not come to the States to settle in the first place, only to gain experience in the cinematographic world and return again, but they had met and been married and she had persuaded him that his future lay on this side of the Atlantic. As a compromise they had gone to Canada where she, loving her own country as she did, felt that at least she was only a railroad journey away from it, and all the time she had sustained the hope that one day she and Alan would live there. Now that dream was to come true.

She
threw her arms about his neck in sheer delight, and they kissed rapturously. Lisa, seeking tactfully to leave them on their own, was spotted by Harriet, who slipped from her husband’s embrace to hurry after her and pull her back by the wrist.

“
Isn’t it the greatest news, Lisa?” Harriet laughed in her exuberance. “In Seattle we shall find a rich and handsome husband for you!”

Lisa
laughed with her. “I’ll keep you to that promise,” she joked merrily. Then over Harriet’s shoulder she met Alan’s eyes and was chilled by the look she saw there. It was almost as if he had been startled into sudden hatred of her through her acceptance of his wife’s light-hearted vow.

Eight

“I’m home again! Back in my own country!” Harriet almost ran down the gangway in Seattle’s early-morning sunshine to step once more upon her native soil. Alan rushed after her, fearful that she might trip in her haste.

Lisa
followed at a more leisurely pace with Leo on a leash. She was still taking in the sight of the city with the deep-water harbour at its very doorstep. The sojourn was to be short, no more than twenty-four hours, which was long enough for Alan to report to the head office of the lumber company that was employing him and afterwards conduct some business of his own. Lisa intended to make the most of the day ahead and see as much as she could of the city, which rose in terraces of parks and boulevards from its busy commercial area to a residential spread with lawns and flower gardens. Even the city’s setting was spectacular, bounded as it was by lake and sea, with the distant Mount Rainier dominating the whole Cascade Range.

Harriet
was resting in the hotel room when Lisa went out to explore. As she walked along she was soon struck by the number of Scandinavian names that appeared everywhere on shops and stores and the offices of companies. Manson and Foss and Nordstrom. Grothaug and Svensen and Dahl. There was no end to them. She even spotted a drugstore with the name of Hagen on the fascia, reminding her of another she knew by that name.

Not
that she needed any reminders of Peter, for even though she kept him locked away in her memories, he came forever between her and any man to whom she might otherwise have responded with liking and perhaps, eventually, with love. It was as if his rejection had gradually blended with the old scars of the past into an impenetrable barrier she had put round herself. Yet within that defence her lips yearned for a man’s powerful kisses and her body for male embrace, so that her heart and mind warred with physical desires. The conviction that she would never marry, which she had first held after her rape, had returned in full force and gave her much sadness. It meant that she who loved children would never bear one of her own.

But
this day was not to be spoiled with dismal thoughts. Dodging a streetcar and horse-drawn vehicles and one of the noisy automobiles, she crossed Second Avenue to gaze upwards at the new skyscraper of the Alaska Building and was suitably impressed. Afterwards she went to see the State University and sat for a while to gaze at the blue-green sweep of Lake Washington. She also did a little shopping before the day’s expedition was over. Some new gloves for next winter in the store called Frederick and Nelson. A box of chocolates in Roger’s candy, store for Harriet, who had developed a sweet tooth in her pregnancy. And a copy of the Seattle
Times
to discover what local employment was being offered to females. Maybe it was the indirect association of the city with Peter and his homeland that had reinforced the liking she felt for all she had seen of it, but the idea was growing that she might get work as a shop assistant or a cashier with a small apartment of her own when Harriet no longer needed her close companionship. And that time was not far distant. One of the arrangements Alan had made for this day was to take his wife about the city to view possible sites for their forthcoming cinema enterprise. As Lisa drew pencil rings around advertised employment for which she might have applied, she was forming dreams of her own.

They
departed with Leo by train from Seattle next morning. The journey was long, for after some hours they changed to a lumber train on its return journey from a delivery of cured planks at a point on the Puget Sound. It was to take them on the final stage of the journey, deep into the forests where the logging had still made little impact on the giant trees that almost shut out the sky.

The
train was full of loggers and other lumber workers returning to camp in various stages of drunkenness after much needed respite from their slogging labours, most of them sleeping or lounging on the now empty wagons. Three seats were vacated in the single passenger compartment for Lisa and the Fernleys. Harriet was immediately concerned for one man with a bruised face and bandaged head who lay on the floor, a pillow of a folded coat for his head.

“
Poor man,” she exclaimed. “Was he in a fight?”

“
He was mugged,” a logger replied. “It’s crazy to go to town looking fresh out of the woods. He hadn’t shaved or cut his hair. Muggers lie in wait for lumbermen, knowing they can have a season’s wages in their pocket. Don’t waste yer pity on him, ma’am. It was his own fault.”

Harriet,
who never blamed anybody for anything, continued to look sympathetically at the victim. By the time they reached their destination, she herself was suffering a similar exhaustion, due in her case to tiredness and discomfort.

The
manager of the sawmill, George Dunn, and his wife, Bertha, a kind-looking woman with a rosy complexion and greying hair, were at the railhead to meet them. Also present were two young women, wives of foremen, both with babies in their arms. Harriet was cheered by the sight. From them she would hear what facilities were available for confinements. Alan had spoken of her returning to Seattle a month before the baby was due to be delivered there, but she would not face that wearisome journey again, not even with Lisa to accompany her.

“
Now that you are both here,” Bertha Dunn said to her and Lisa, “we women number exactly five.”

“
Even our babies are boys,” said one of the young mothers, whose name was Dolly Underwood. Her companion, who giggled with her at their being so outnumbered on all sides, had been introduced as Mary Senensky.

“
We’ll be bringing you a hot dinner just as soon as you’ve had an hour to settle in,” Bertha continued, waving aside Harriet’s thanks. “The company’s store on the site provided the groceries that came on the list you sent. It keeps a good supply of most things from decks of cards and chewing tobacco for the men to specially ordered canned milk for the babies. The men sign chits for what they purchase and their pay is deducted accordingly. We do the same on our husband’s accounts.”

As
George Dunn invited the new arrivals to step into a waiting buggy, they noticed a sign displayed: WIVES WANTED. Alan had seen such signs before and both Harriet and Lisa knew about them, but it was the first time either of the women had seen one for themselves. They exchanged a smiling glance.

“
You’ll have your fair share of suitors here, Lisa,” Harriet whispered behind her hand.

“
It’s lucky I have you to chaperone me,” Lisa whispered back in amusement.

They
were driven through the sawmill in order that they should see it and get their bearings. Harriet remained smiling, but in her tiredness she thought her head might split at the grating roar of logs meeting the huge saws, and the screech of the planes seemed even worse. The air was heavy with the smell of new wood mingling with the smoke from the sawdust being burned in cone-shaped containers. There were men everywhere. They yelled above the noise to each other and at the teams of horses newly arrived from the forest with loads. Logs rumbled as men cranked handles to release them on rollers from the wagons, adding to the din. On the stacked planks that looked like rectangular buildings in rows, known as drying sheds, other men ran or climbed, agile as monkeys, going about their energy-consuming work. Harriet was conscious of the stares of those who happened to pause briefly to watch the buggy going by. One man, standing by the crock of drinking water on a bench outside the cookhouse, paused with the dipper halfway to his lips, gaping with astonishment. Harriet acknowledged those who collected their wits in time to give some kind of mannerly greeting. She and Lisa were certainly providing a startling diversion in their straw sailor hats and flowery coloured coats. Oh, the noise of those saws!

It
was a relief to Harriet when George drove past the bunkhouses that marked the outskirts of the site, and took them quite a distance along an old skid-road to a house out of earshot of the sawmill. The new home was square and two-storeyed, as were the other houses, glimpsed through the trees that were provided by the lumber company for prominent employees. It had good-sized rooms and the luxury of a bathhouse, even though the tin bath would have to be filled with jugs by hand. Since the place was furnished throughout, there had been nothing for the Fernleys to provide, except for a cot and other nursery necessities which had been purchased in Seattle and transported with the piano to their destination. Lisa was pleased to find that her bedroom had shelves for her books, a table and a comfortable chair, providing a haven to which she could retreat whenever Alan was at home.

Harriet
had been right in her assumption that Lisa would be in great demand, but neither of them had expected the first would-be beau to call that evening before they had finished unpacking. Alan, who answered the door, sent the fellow away. Three more came soon afterwards, wanting to speak with her, and fared no better.

“
I told them,” he informed Lisa, “that you are my ward. They are to let it be known at the site that my house is forbidden territory and no approach must be made to you without my permission. It’s for your own protection. You saw that sign displayed near the railhead.”

She
raised her eyebrows. Although she knew he needed to be strict from the start with the men on her behalf, she could not help resenting his high-handed attitude. “What if I see someone I would like to get to know while you’re away somewhere?” she enquired crisply.

He
was aware of her annoyance. It was to be expected, for such was the constant friction between them. His answer came on a sharp note. “Then you’ll use your own common sense, I trust. I simply want to ensure that the men know that they’ll get the sack on the spot if they attempt any liberties with you or my wife.”

In
the weeks that followed, when Alan was absent most of the time, nobody broke the rule that he had laid down against calling at the house, but it did not stop those attracted to Lisa from drawing her into conversation whenever they met her on the road or in the store or by the stables where she frequently gave sugar-bits and apples to the work-weary horses, many of them the great shires that had been Peter’s particular favourites. Almost without exception the men were powerfully built, whether short or tall, simply by the very nature of the work they were engaged in. It was no trade for a weakling. Accidents were all too frequent as it was.

Although
Lisa was careful not to encourage any of those who would have courted her, at least three of the younger men with their good looks, fine physiques, and quick minds, would have had a chance with her if she had felt so inclined. While keeping a distance, she took pleasure in talking with them. It made such welcome change from the endless chatter that went on at the house where Dolly and Mary came daily to visit Harriet and dissect every aspect of motherhood. Much as Lisa loved babies, she found so much intensely domestic conversation increasingly tedious. Alan’s home-comings were like a refreshing, if somewhat stormy, breath of fresh air blowing through the house, for he brought news of the outside world and recounted incidents of interest from his journeyings to the lumber camps.

As
always when he and Lisa became engrossed in lively and often argumentative discussions, Harriet would listen from the couch where she rested in the advancing stages of her pregnancy, sewing or knitting garments for the baby. She never made any attempt to join in, content that the two people who meant most to her should stimulate each other in such wide-ranging talk.

Another
frequent visitor to the house was Bertha Dunn. She was experienced in midwifery and was to deliver Harriet when the time came. Alan was uneasy about this arrangement, wanting a doctor present, but since the nearest one was many miles away, that was not possible. As for travelling back to Seattle, Harriet claimed it would be too much exertion for her now that she was into her eighth month, and he was forced to accept her decision to have the baby in their home. She began to strike off the remaining days on a calendar.

Lisa
waited on her hand and foot, but persuaded her into the exercise of a daily walk in the autumn air, which was a great effort for her. Leo always accompanied them, except when Alan was home. Then he would follow his master around the sawmill or into the forest when Alan took a gun after game.

It
happened that Alan had the dog with him when he was in conversation with George Dunn one morning as they came from the office, strolling past a wagon that was being unloaded. Suddenly there was a sound like a cannon’s blast as some chains snapped. Amid shouts of warning a vast log reared up to crash down again in a thunder of noise that shook the ground. Alan and George had sprung clear as had everyone else. Leo, ears flat and head down, streaked away to safety, only - to be caught several yards further on by the flailing hooves of a big workhorse snorting and rearing in fright. The dog was sent flying without a sound to thud down by one of the drying sheds. Alan gave a great shout.

“
Leo!” He rushed to the dog and saw at once by the gashed head that death from the hoof had been instantaneous. It was an accident that nobody could have foreseen, but that did not lessen the sorrow that wrenched at him as he stooped to gather up the lifeless animal in his arms. Others came running forward to see if any help was needed and then slowed to a halt as they saw it was too late.