Bishop's Road (35 page)

“I had one but someone took it from me at the prison.”

“What a sin! Well I'll call your husband as soon as I'm done my rounds and we'll have him here in a flash.” And Edna is away, phone number, or at least the last four digits, tucked in her head. It won't be hard to figure out the first three, only so many on the go. Not to worry, Ginny Mustard, if you can't remember all of them with Edna on your side.

When the gathering at Mrs. Miflin's house breaks up Mr. and Mrs. Benoit, Lucy, Mr. Eldridge in spare rooms, Judy and Maggie in the apartment downstairs, retire for the night. There isn't a chance that they will find a way to spring Ginny Mustard from prison but what a team! And Joe Snake the loner, tall and thin, straightens his shoulders and shrugs off the load he'd thought was there for good. Waits until his mother is sound asleep before letting the little cats inside to snuggle down on his bed.

When Edna calls to say his wife has been relocated everyone else is up and around, his mom making pancakes and Judy on her second helping.

“Can we all go to see her?” asks Judy, wiping her mouth with the end of the tablecloth. Mrs. Benoit gives her a smack.

“Ow. What did you do that for? That friggin' hurts.”

“You've got the manners of a slug, girl. Don't you ever let me see you doing that again. Use your napkin and mind your mouth.”

“Better do as she says if you know what's good for you,” says Lucy. “I think Joseph should go by himself first. See what's up. Then maybe we can all visit later. What do you think Joseph? I'm sure you'd like a few quiet minutes with your wife, wouldn't you now?” And she smiles.

“Yes. I'll call after I've seen her. I hope there's nothing wrong with the baby. Her heart would never mend. I'll call.” And he's away, his mom following with a plate of food. “Do you want me to keep this warm for later?”

Joe Snake finds Edna in the nursery kissing babies. “I love
these little ones. I could never have any of my own what with the old man being broke from the waist down, you know. So I come in here whenever I get a free minute. Stay half the night sometimes when one of them can't sleep. That rocking chair in the corner's got my arse print worn right through the cushion.” She laughs as though that's the funniest thing she's ever heard tell of. “Come with me, dear. I'll take you to Virginia's room. Such a darling little wife you have. Bit thin, though. But you're not much more than a bag of bones yourself now, are you. Pity she's a criminal but I daresay she couldn't help doing whatever she did. That should be one fine looking youngster. Tall, judging by the two of you. Nice colour I would imagine. I always thought there was enough red hair and freckles around here to sink a ship. What did she do to end up in jail, anyway?”

“She killed a man.”

“Well, I'm sure she had her reasons. Here's her room. She was supposed to eat everything on her tray so I'll just check and make sure she did and leave you alone. Virginia, look who I brought to see you. Wait now. I'll just undo those handcuffs so you two can have a quick hug but I have to chain you down again as soon as you're done.”

And she does. And they do. A long hug like no one has ever hugged before and Sweet Polly feels the warmth and kicks her heels with baby joy. Hard. So they both can feel it. They laugh. Edna laughs. She snaps the cuffs shut and is gone. Still laughing.

They sit and stare at each other for awhile. Nothing to say. Holding hands.

“The baby was not so good so they brought me here. I thought I was dead when I woke up but I'm not. It's nice here. The sun was on the water and there was a little wind. I can smell the ocean and the fish. Oh Joe Snake, how can I go back to that place? I can't live there. I feel all mashed up inside myself and my heart is a hard thing.”

“Perhaps we can keep you in the hospital until the baby is born. Our friends are trying to find a way to have you released but I don't see there's any way around it, Ginny Mustard. I think you'll have to be there until your parole hearing.” And he tells her about Joanie and her parents, the others, trying to come up with a solution to this dreadful problem.

It seems to help. It seems she's less alone. It seems Joe Snake has people in their corner and so he is less alone as well. She has imagined him in their big bed. Cooking solitary meals. Dusting empty rooms. And has been sad for him.

“When the baby comes I'll bring it to visit. It will know you well when your time is done.”

“Her. Bring her to visit. Her name is Polly. Becky read a book to me called
Five Little Peppers and How They Grew
and there was a girl named Polly. And she had a food name. Edna thinks I shouldn't have a food name. So I want to be Ginny Benoit now. Is that all right?”

“That's perfect.” And he gives her a kiss for punctuation. “I can bring people to visit, you know. Mom and Dad and Lucy are here. I have no idea why or how long they plan to stay, but if you'd like to see them I can ask Edna if it's kosher. And Judy. Maggie. Everyone wants to see you. Would you like that?”

“Yes. Call them. If Edna says it's - what did you say - kosher?”

Dr. Kamau has signed up for the native cultural immersion course. Who better to teach him than Annie Paul who knows almost everything and has no qualms about making up the little she doesn't, borrows from the Sioux and Cree if she has to, reasoning that they are all brothers and sisters so what the hell. Annie
Paul found herself a few years ago in the archives on a trip to the city. Has since taken to making her own boots and coats - mostly of rabbit skins since that's about all there is around here but for the odd fox. She wears lovely pointed hats for special occasions, weddings and christenings, decorated with porcupine quills. Her moccasins and boots are covered with beads. She has to order the quills from away. And the beads. She lives in a teepee that Old Cecil helped her to build and cooks over a fire. Smokes salmon, trout and cod for the winter and sells some to make a few dollars for flour and sugar. Butter. Eggs, since she doesn't like to see animals penned and hens scratch too much in the vegetable garden when they're free.

The neighbours thinks she's crazy and perhaps she is but they all say nobody can cure a fish like Annie Paul and they don't mind paying what she asks. The only things she can't get enough of are steak and a baked potato with Caesar salad on the side and she never got the hang of stir-frying over her fire so she trades her soul's work for a few trips to town and the best restaurants therein.

Annie Paul can see. Might be the pot she smokes or the fact that she's the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. Either way she knows what Dr. Kamau is about, though she waits a day or two to tell him where he should be since she dearly enjoys his questions and company.

“Someone needs you now and I think you'd better get yourself away. To the city. I'm not sure who she is but she's pregnant and important to you.”

“That must be my daughter, Virginia. I have been told she's there but I didn't know she is pregnant.”

“She's not only pregnant, she's in a sorry state for some reason. If I can find someone to look after my garden - and Sadie Benoit's -1 wouldn't mind a trip myself. All right if I tag along? I can't pay for gas but seeing as you're going anyway that's no big
deal. I'll bring a lunch. Let me go talk to Old Cecil. I'm sure he owes me something by now and he's got a house full of grandchildren doing frig all these days. A little gardening won't do them any harm. Keep them out of trouble.”

Dr. Kamau is pleased to have Annie Paul's company She is a delightful woman and funny and has the most beautiful hands he has ever seen. He watches her face as she stares into her fire. Annie Paul broods. Sits so still she could be a dead woman. Doesn't blink. And then she looks right into a person - slowly - so as to get all there is - and swallows hard before she speaks.

“So,” says Ruth to Sarah, “you missed a fine reunion at Mrs. Miflin's house the other night. Maggie and her father are back from their wanderings and Joe Snake's folks arrived out of the blue and we all ended up drinking too much and trying to figure out how to spring Ginny Mustard from her lonely prison cell. A good time all around. The only thing lacking was a mournful violin. I can't see how anything can be done but, on the up side, Joe Snake told me this morning that they've seen fit to transfer her to a hospital so at least she'll be getting proper care for awhile. It would be great if they can manage to keep her there.”

“Good. I wouldn't mind going over to see her if that's allowed. I wonder why you still refer to that place as Mrs. Miflin's house. She hasn't lived in it for ages now.”

“Might be the fact that she camps out there every day all day sun-up to sundown. You should see her Sarah. Little tub, she is, squatting on the front porch, sweating in her old winter coat with a bag of money tucked under her arm and a few sandwiches in her pocket.” And Ruth laughs.

“Poor thing.”

“Poor thing, my ass. The woman is trouble and I wouldn't put it past her to do something dangerous one of these days if she doesn't soon get her own way. She's a few bricks short of a load and that's the truth. Joanie and her folks have no idea what she's made of. They step around her and tolerate her foolishness as though she's just a bit of local colour and nothing more to it than that. Quaint is probably the word they use when they see her there. They'll have her in for a cup of tea one of these days and that will be the end of life as they know it.”

“What do you mean? Do you really think she's that much of a problem?”

“Damn straight, she is. You have no idea how she can worm her way into every situation and work it to her advantage. She has a knack for finding your weak spots and whipping them into festering wounds. The only mistake she ever made was bringing Judy into the house. That girl has a built-in bullshit sensor.”

“Speaking of bullshit. When are you going to tell me about Peter's father? I don't think I can nag much more. It really is wearing on a person, you know.”

“There's an understatement! I don't even answer my phone half the time just in case it's you. And the other day? When you came over? I was in. Saw you through the window and hid. Why in God's name is it so important to you anyway?”

“So many reasons. If we can find him then the children would have another grandparent.”

“Come on, Sarah, you can do better than that.”

“I think Peter should know who his father is.”

“He knows Matthew's his father. I don't see any reason to believe he's not content with that situation.”

“What if someone needs a kidney one of these days and the only match is Peter's biological father? What about that for a reason? And what if there are some hereditary diseases or disorders
that I should be on the look out for? Like diabetes or such?”

“Now you're getting a little carried away, Sarah. Come on, girl, get your brain in gear. You've got to get out of the house more. This kind of obsession isn't healthy. There are tons of people in the world who haven't a clue where they came from and they get over it. Eventually. Actually I never thought of it before. Maybe they don't.”

“Don't you think that your future husband should know you have a son?”

“Perhaps. But then he'd want to know everything else I've ever done and once we open that can of worms we'll never get any sleep. Besides, what does that have to do with telling you who Peter's father is?”

“Oh hell. Nothing. I'm just curious. For some reason I'm stuck on it. I think about it all the time. I've taken to looking at the kids differently. And Peter. I keep watching for things about them that don't remind me of anyone I know. And there are things. All sorts of mannerisms that I can't pin down.”

“Good Lord, Sarah! It's not like they come out of a cereal box with a nice neat list of ingredients. You're really losing it, darling. Maybe you should get some help for this.”