Authors: Margaret Buffie
The girls warbled back, “Happy Christmas!” and tittered behind their hands
.
“Happy Christmas, Duncan,” his mother said. “Why, don’t you look handsome, my son!” She hugged him
.
“Are you all right, Mother?”
She moved the presents to the table. “Of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”
He looked at me. I raised my eyebrows and smiled. He dumped cut pine into the big wood-box
.
Papa was urged from his study and settled in his favorite chair
.
Duncan took off his heavy coat. Under it, he wore a dark woolen frock coat and trousers and a waistcoat over a white cambric shirt. And polished boots! He smelled of lavender, not a hint of barn. Was he planning on announcing his engagement to Henrietta tonight?
With great solemnity, he handed presents to each and every person. Except me. Fur mittens for the girls, a pretty fan for Ivy, and a beautiful painting of the river in autumn for Papa
.
“We’re Father Christmas’s messengers,” Duncan said. “We’ve delivered mittens and slippers to the children of the widows and also hay – and your cakes, Beatrice – to them and others. We’re proud, but trying to be humble about it.”
The girls laughed and told Minty how soft and well-stitched the mittens were. He smiled shyly
.
“I have something for your grandmother,” Duncan said. “May I take it up to her?” When I nodded, he added, “Perhaps you could bring her a cup of tea as well.”
He lifted a large flat package and made for the door. There was no option but to follow, a cup of tea in one hand, a small plate of fruitcake in the other. Upstairs, he handed his present to nôhkom with a grand gesture. She must have been sleeping
for she looked confused at first, but when she recognized Duncan, she grinned
.
I needed to just get away from him. Cleaned up like this, with the tight black curls brushing his ears, he was too … it came to me with a jolt … compelling
.
Grandmother opened her parcel and let out a cry of delight. I took in a sharp breath. It was a painting of me – in my best dress, my black hair coiled around my head, the star brooch pinned against a collar of the finest white lace. I didn’t own such a collar. It was beautiful. My painted likeness looked at me with sadness and a half-smile. Is this how I looked to the world? To the artist? I felt for my little pin, but it was not there. Had I simply forgotten to put it on? I was sure I hadn’t
.
Grandmother said to Duncan, “It looks exactly like nôsisim. When my
ôhômisîsis
is gone, it will bring me
minwêntamowin
to look at it
. Kinanâskomitin,
Duncan!”
He bowed. “You’re welcome. I’m glad it will bring you contentment.”
My pin forgotten, I stared at nôhkom. “How long have you known I’m going away?”
She shrugged. “For almost as long as you. Do not worry, nôsisim. It is time for you to make your own home.”
Duncan took a package out of his pocket and handed it to me. “I didn’t forget you.”
Inside was the beautiful lace collar from the painting. “The portrait is so lovely and this … this is most beautiful.” My heart filled with joy and grief
.
“I have nothing for you,” I whispered. I could not look at him. For if I did, surely my heart would break
.
M
artin dropped me off at Aunt Blair’s. She was sitting by the fire, reading. “Everything okay?” I shrugged off my jacket. “No.”
“Oh, dear. I was hoping … I just made tea, I’ll get it. Why don’t you go put your pj’s on, and we’ll relax, listen to some music, maybe talk, if you want to. I’ve got a casserole in the oven.”
Did I want to talk?
I ran upstairs, pulled on my pajamas, fleece housecoat, and thick socks. When I came back down, there was a comforter on the couch. I wrapped myself in it and took the mug of tea she handed me.
“So what happened?” Blair said.
I told her, trying hard to be fair, but knowing I was slanting it my way.
“You challenged her again,” Blair said. “I know what she said was rather silly, but she was trying to be generous … in her own stilted way.”
“Sounds as if you kind of like her now.” I sounded sulky.
“Look, Cass, I don’t like or dislike Jean. I had an opinion when your dad married her. I’ve let it go. I was judging her based on my feelings of loss. I don’t
know
her.”
“Well, I do.”
“I want this to work for you. I hope you didn’t talk about living with me yet.”
“Why?”
“Okay. You did. I’m sure your dad was not thrilled with that.”
“He’s says we’ll talk again, but basically, it’s a no go. I didn’t agree.”
“I hope he doesn’t think I put you up to this to cause more problems.”
“I don’t know what he thinks. He’ll let me know, of course.”
Blair slouched back in her chair and rested her head against its pillow. “Nothing is easy when someone so well-loved dies. Your dad was inconsolable. He’s trying for a new, more hope-filled life. I can’t blame him. I’m just glad I feel Fiona around me. I didn’t for a long while. I’m sure you can feel her, too. That’s a comfort, isn’t it?”
I stared at her. “You can feel Mom? How?”
“I just sense her near. Sometimes I’m sure I can smell her favorite perfume,
Je Reviens
. Once I thought I heard her laugh, when I was singing. She always said I couldn’t hold a tune.”
“You’re just imagining all that!”
She straightened up. “Don’t you feel her? Are you upset I told you, Cass? Surely you, of all people –”
“I don’t feel her, okay? And I don’t feel her because she doesn’t want me to. She wants to be near you because I broke my promise.…” There. It was finally out.
“What are you talking about, Cass? Fiona could never be mad at you. Not in a million years. What promise could you possibly have broken?” She pushed a box of tissues at me.
“The biggest one of my life. I –” My voice broke.
“What?”
Tears streamed down my face. I grabbed a handful of tissues and wiped them away. “I wasn’t there!” I cried. “I went to the store to buy her some ginger ale and met a girl from school. We talked, and I felt free for the first time in ages. I didn’t want to go back home – I didn’t want to see Mom huddled under the covers, packed with hot-water bottles, hardly breathing. So I went for coffee with that girl, and we talked about music and movies, and it was fun. I stayed a long time. But when I got home, Mom was already gone! I promised to hold her hand when she went. I promised to say good-bye. You and Dad were both crying, so I couldn’t tell you how I’d let her down. The stupid cans of ginger ale were still in my hands, and you guys are hugging me as if I’d done nothing wrong.” I sobbed into my hands.
Blair hugged me. “Let it out, honey. Then I’m going to tell you something.”
After a while, she left the room and came back with a hot cloth. I pressed it against my face. “Nothing you tell me will help. Nothing can.”
She pushed back my hair. “Listen to me. Your mom would have completely understood what you did. She told me more than once that she hated you seeing her so sick. She often asked you to take more time for yourself, remember?”
I sniffed. “I
couldn’t
take time out.”
“She knew that. And you know what? I think she chose that time to die – so you wouldn’t have to see it. She’s with you. I know she’s all around you.”
“But I don’t feel her,” I whispered.
“Cass, have you ever thought that maybe
you
have been closing yourself off from
Fiona?
To punish yourself somehow? If you open yourself up to your mom, I know she’ll come. I wish you’d told me this two years ago. No wonder you fight so hard for her around Jean. Guilt is a terrible responsibility. Especially when you did absolutely nothing wrong.”
“Didn’t I?”
“No. Your mom made the decision for both of you. She’d be extremely upset to think she only made things worse. Maybe you need to forgive her. Maybe you’re mad at her for leaving you when you weren’t there. God, I’m sounding like my own shrink now.…” She laughed, sadly.
I could feel the grayness lift a bit. We talked for a long time. About Mom. About Dad. And Jean. I told her about putting out Mom’s things and Jean’s reaction to it. She shook her head.
“Do you still think that Jean was after Dad, even when Mom was still here?” I asked. “You said that to Dad.”
She looked uncomfortable. “I don’t know anymore, honey. I was a wreck. He was a wreck. Jean always seemed to be around. I never really took to her, even when the local women would come and help out. There are some people you meet that you just fit with, you know? She and I don’t fit. She’s the exact opposite of your mom.”
I nodded.
“But I have to admit, I wasn’t fair to Jean. I didn’t look at her as a good thing for your dad because it felt like she was taking my sister’s place. I hated her for it. I don’t anymore.”
I told her what I’d found out about Jean’s ex-husband. I didn’t tell her about Beatrice. Not yet. Maybe one day. Martin knew. That’s all that mattered.
“It’s no wonder Jean’s trying to control everything,” she said. “Poor woman must be feeling pretty insecure. And if you’re always talking about how much your parents loved each other …”
“I think Jean’s just a bossy cow. She hates Mom.”
“Don’t hug this ideal vision of your parents’ marriage too close to you, kiddo. Your mom wasn’t an easy person to live with. You know that. She had her ups and downs and … well, your dad was always patient.” I opened my mouth, but she shook her head. “They loved each other a lot, but your dad has never had anyone looking after
him
, has he? He’s always looked after his older parents and then Fiona, keeping her on steady ground. She was a joy most of the time, but the down times were tough.”
She was right. Mom had definitely been an up-and-down person. We used to argue, but we usually ended
up laughing when it got out of hand because Mom’s sense of the ridiculous always kicked in.
I smiled, remembering. “She called herself a Real Handful. She told me I was more sensible at thirteen than she was at thirty-five.”
We talked about some of the crazy things she did, like making us all go vegan for weeks until Dad and I found her stash of pepperoni sticks behind all the veggies in the fridge.
Blair put her arm around me, and we laughed. Afterward, she said softly, “Yeah … Fiona wasn’t easy to be around sometimes.”
I nodded. “But I’d never tell Jean that!”
“Don’t you think Jean offers your dad something he needs at this time in his life?”
“You make him sound senile, with a helpful nurse on hand.”
She sighed. “Cass …”
“I don’t know if she is what he needs. I only know I don’t need her. We don’t fit together and we never will. It’s like she’s a fish and I’m an apple; she’s a tree and I’m a …”
“Wood-boring little insect?” she said. We both fell over laughing.
“Can I still stay with you if I want?” I asked. “If things … you know …”
“You don’t ever have to ask me that again. That room upstairs is yours whenever you need it – if your dad agrees. All I ask is that you work out a deal with him that suits everyone, okay?”
“I’ll have to think about that part,” I said.
She left the room and came back with two bowls of lasagna. I noticed she didn’t eat much either. “I’m wiped. Ready for bed?”
“I’m gonna stay down here for a bit.”
She picked up the half-empty bowls and left. I snuggled back under the comforter and watched the flickering fire. For the first time in a long time, the air went deep into my lungs when I took a breath. I felt better about Mom and me, but I was so tired.…
I woke up in the dim light to find the diary lying open on the coffee table. The conversation between Beatrice and Ivy was riveting. I had a better idea now why Ivy ended up so damaged.
Maybe you should think about Jean’s past life, too
, my inner voice said, but I ignored it. I read about Duncan Kilgour’s arrival – the painting of Beatrice for her grandmother and the lace collar for Beatrice.
She thought she had put on the star brooch, only to find it missing from her dress later. Now I had it. Pinned to my pajama top. It was amazing that I was the one who found it in the old hearth. Wait! I knew why it wasn’t on her dress! She’d been wrestling with the spit, which must have knocked against her collar. If she hadn’t closed the clasp properly, the brooch probably flew into the hearth, landing on the tiny shelf where I found it. Then soot fell on it during the cooking of Christmas dinner, and no one found it.
It was obvious she was in love with Duncan and didn’t know it.
Did she and Robert announce their engagement that night?
I eagerly turned the page. Nothing. All the rest of the pages were blank.