Kin (22 page)

David's one-year-old daughter, Anne-Frances Macdonald, was his pride and joy, although she was quickly nicknamed Frankie. “Anne-Frances” sounded wonderful when he and Kay had discussed it two hours after she was born, but it quickly became a pain.

“Anne” was after his sister and “Frances” was the name of Kay's beloved aunt, her dad's older sister who'd died five years before. When Frankie's grandmother Virginia heard the name, she rolled her eyes and had another drink. Louis gave out cigars to everyone in Halifax and set up a trust fund for her education, declaring to all who would listen that his granddaughter would be the next tycoon in the family. Frankie's uncle, Louis Jr., admitted defeat to the laughing parents.

David knew that calling his baby Anne was a sneaky trick, but he was desperate for his sister to forgive him. He finally pleaded to Henry to intervene on his behalf. Henry reminded Anne that it takes two people to make a baby and it was none of her business anyway.

When David and Kay made the first trip up to Cape Breton to show off Frankie, Annie was the first one to charge out the door. David held out his arms, but she shoved him aside. “I have to see Annie Junior first!”

They all fell under Frankie's spell. She was a dimpled and chubby angel with flaxen hair and bright blue eyes, wearing a pink silk pleated dress and tiny patent leather shoes with frilly socks. Abigail squealed in delight and Kenzie couldn't wipe off his smile. When John and Daniel tried to touch her with their grubby two-year-old hands and snotty noses, Abigail swooped in and whisked her away. “You come with Grammie.”

“Nice one, Grandma. Apparently you boys have been knocked off her list of favourites.” Annie turned to Henry, who was holding the newest Pratt in his arms. “Don't take it personally, George. You had your turn being flavour of the month.”

It was one of the best moments of David's life, to be home introducing his beautiful daughter to the people he loved. He'd missed Annie terribly. No one made him laugh like she did. He hoped they'd never have another falling out.

The day they were leaving to go back home, Annie approached him. Their mom and Kay had Frankie on a blanket outside and Henry was chasing the boys. David was on the lawn swing and Annie joined him in the fresh air. As usual, she got straight to the point.

“She doesn't look like Caroline. You know that, right?”

David wasn't in the mood to talk about it.

“I see you watch her so intently that it almost frightens me.”

David gave her an annoyed glance. “You've never lost your sense of drama.”

“I'm telling you, Davy. Don't make Frankie live in Caroline's shadow.”

“Okay, now drop it.” David couldn't help himself. “How's Lila?”

“Silent.”

“Has she seen the boys yet?”

Annie shook her head.

“I hope that someday she has another child.”

“I know her. She never will.”

David hung his head. “What a fucking nightmare.”

Eventually it was time to say farewell. There were kisses and hugs and promises to send lots of pictures. Kay held Frankie in her lap and took her arm to wave back at the family as they headed out. David thought his mother was going to run after the car.

The baby was soon asleep in Kay's arms. Kay too had her head back against the leather upholstery. As they crossed the island, David drank in the highland air and turned his head often to glimpse at the breathtaking look-off views that never staled, no matter how many times he drove past. He'd never noticed them before, but Kay was always enthralled with the wildflowers that grew on the sides of the road. Daisies, buttercups, wild roses, and heather blew with the wind as they sped by.

Like most islanders, he'd taken that small gift of beauty for granted. The first time Kay saw an enormous open field of pink, lavender, and blue lupins, she clapped in excitement. David had laughed at her.

Past the causeway, Kay turned her head to look at him. “It's been over two hours. Why do you never talk to me in the car?”

“Sorry, I thought you were asleep. You have your sunglasses on.”

“I don't mean just today. Every time we go somewhere it's like you put up a privacy screen and I feel like I'm intruding when I ask you something.”

David gave her a quick look. “I do that?”

“Yes. I used to think it was intriguing, but now it's annoying.”

David wasn't sure if he was supposed to respond.

“What were you and Annie talking about on the swing?”

“I don't know. The usual stuff.”

Kay put her sunglasses on the top of her head. “It looked serious.”

“It wasn't.”

“I thought you might be talking about Lila.”

“I asked how she is.”

“And how is she?”

“How do you think?”

“You have a soft spot for her.”

David made a face. “Of course I do. She's family.”

Kay put her sunglasses back on and looked out the window.

* * *

The rain came down in torrents. It splashed against the window by Lila's bed. She watched the maple tree shake its branches in protest. The sound of the rain on the roof used to soothe Lila when she was a girl, but now it only reminded her that Cricket was outside alone. Maybe she was cold.

It was a struggle every day to stop that line of thinking. Cricket was dead, so she wasn't feeling anything. Not hot or cold. But how did anyone know for sure? Where was the proof?

Lila wanted to reach out and choke people who said Caroline was in heaven. No, she wasn't. Caroline had been in heaven with her mother in this room. This was heaven—her crib, her toys, her tiny dresses, her cup and spoon, her mommy singing to her at night.

It amazed Lila how often people said stupid, stupid things to her.
Move on. You'll get married and have another one. Buck up. It happens to everyone, not just you. Don't dwell on sad things. Don't wallow. Don't cry in front of people. Don't bring her up in conversation and make people uncomfortable. Make an effort. Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Death is a part of life.

Death is a part of life when that life has been lived. When you're eighty-five and looking back on all the wonderful things you did. Not when you're three and drowning in cold brackish water in a dark hole all alone.

At three, you miss everything.

Lila took out a worn piece of paper from her bedside table and unfolded it, a poem she happened to come across a few months after Cricket died.

Maternity

Alice Meynell (1847–1922)

One wept whose only child was dead,

Newborn, ten years ago.

‘Weep not; he is in bliss,' they said.

She answered, ‘Even so'.

‘Ten years ago was born in pain

A child, not now forlorn.

But oh, ten years ago, in vain,

A mother, a mother was born.'

Lila wished Alice was still alive, so she could thank her for being a friend when she needed one.

Even over the rain, Lila could hear Aunt Eunie moving things downstairs. That meant that she was looking for something. It would go on for hours. She'd accuse Lila and Uncle Joe of stealing her money or her wallet, or important papers. They'd find dresser drawers ransacked, but they wouldn't intervene. Eventually she'd forget that she was looking for something and sit on the couch. Then she would look in her knitting bag and take out the balls of wool, slowly unravelling them until the wool was like a plate of spaghetti on her lap. When she got to the end, she'd roll it back up. Lila and Uncle Joe loved that game. It was sometimes the only peace they had all day.

Lila went downstairs in her bathrobe. Aunt Eunie was rummaging through the china cabinet, picking up her Dresden china figurines and making them dance. Lila smiled and patted her shoulder. Aunt Eunie turned around. “Lila. Are you in? I'm not.” Then she went back to her dancing.

Lila headed out to the kitchen. Poor Uncle Joe was at the table, staring at the tablecloth, his cup of tea forgotten. He looked old and lost and sad.

“Good morning, Uncle Joe.”

“Good morn…” His head went up. “Lila! Oh, Lila, I've missed you!”

He got up from the table. Lila walked right into his arms. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

“Of course you didn't. I understand. I'm just so happy to have someone to talk to.”

Lila cooked them a nice breakfast, scrambling Ewan's brown eggs and frying bacon. Thick slabs of white bread and butter were washed down with a cup of coffee and cream. Aunt Eunie was in good spirits, eating her eggs with her knife.

“Who are you?” she asked Lila.

“I'm Lila. I live here.”

“Here?”

“That's right,” said Uncle Joe. “We live together. We're a family.”

Aunt Eunie smiled. “Isn't that nice?”

The other two laughed and agreed it was very nice.

Since the weather was foul, they stayed in for the day, Lila helping Uncle Joe clean up the house, which had been neglected during her exile upstairs and outdoors. When she saw Uncle Joe smiling as he filled a bucket with soapy water, she was annoyed with herself.

“I've been selfish…”

He held up his hand. “No talking about the past. We're together now and that makes me the happiest man alive.”

It was therapeutic to clean away the dust that had gathered for months. Lila gave Aunt Eunie a cloth and told her to wipe everything. She started with her face, but soon got the hang of it. Her dusting was impressive; she spent ten minutes on every object.

Uncle Joe scrubbed the floors and windows. Lila pushed the rug sweeper around and sorted through the pantry. It was a mess. Why hadn't she noticed that before? She gave the kitchen a good going over, cleaning the cupboards and sink. They were at it all day. It was like a renewed energy existed for those few hours and neither one of them wanted to break the spell. By dinnertime they were limp rags, but thoroughly satisfied.

Uncle Joe said he'd be happy with more scrambled eggs for dinner. Lila was grateful, because her under-exercised body was definitely sore. She needed a hot bath. Uncle Joe went to get some of the dishes that were still on the dining-room table waiting to be put back in the clean cupboards. Lila went into the back porch to collect the eggs from the fridge.

And out of nowhere, Aunt Eunie lunged at her with a knife. Pure instinct made Lila grab her arm, but Aunt Eunie wrestled her to the ground and crawled on top of her. “Where's my baby?”

Lila was vaguely aware of Uncle Joe yelling in the background, trying to separate them. Lila couldn't hold her arm off forever—Aunt Eunie was incredibly strong as she slashed at Lila's face. The blade cut through Lila's smock and sliced her shoulder. Blood oozed from the wound. Uncle Joe, in a panic, pushed Aunt Eunie against the back door. The weight of her was too much for the latch and she tumbled backwards down the back steps and onto the wet ground.

Uncle Joe looked horrified. “Eunie!”

Eunie moaned in pain.

“I'm okay,” Lila told him. “Go see if she's all right.”

He rushed to his wife's side. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.”

She lay at an awkward angle, her face pale and her breath quick and shallow. “Get some blankets and cover her,” Lila said. “I'll call for an ambulance.”

It seemed like forever before the ambulance got there. Eunie couldn't answer their questions.

“My wife…” Uncle Joe stammered, “My wife…”

Lila jumped in, “My aunt has memory loss. It's difficult for her to understand you.”

One of the medics felt her hip, causing Aunt Eunie to cry out. “She's no doubt broken something, but we have to get her off the ground. Just to warn you, it's going to hurt.”

Uncle Joe looked like he was going to pass out. He kept wiping his forehead with his handkerchief. “It's my fault. I'm to blame.”

Aunt Eunie screamed in pain when they laid her on the stretcher. As soon as they put her in the ambulance, Lila said, “Uncle Joe, you go with her. I'll come behind you with the car.”

He nodded and scrambled up into the back door. One medic stayed with Aunt Eunie, and the driver shut them in. He looked at Lila again.

“You're bleeding.”

“It's nothing.”

“Let me see.” He pulled her smock away from her shoulder and grimaced. “I'd say you need a few stitches.”

“I'll take care of it.”

“I don't advise you driving.”

“I have a friend who will take me in.”

He backed down the driveway slowly, no doubt to keep Aunt Eunie as still as possible. Lila hoped they could give her some pain medication.

Lila held it together while she went back in the house and picked up the knife, washing it under the hot water tap. She called Ewan.

“Hello?”

“Hi.”

“Lila?”

“Yes.”

“Lila! It's so good to hear your voice. I'm so glad you called.”

“I'm happy to speak to you too.”

“Are you all right?”

“Yes, I'm all right, but once again I have to ask you a favour. It's ridiculous how often I depend on you and I never get to pay you back…”

“That's what friends are for.”

“Aunt Eunie fell and Uncle Joe went with her in the ambulance. I wondered, if you're not busy, could you take me into the hospital?”

“Of course. I'll be right there.”

She collected some toiletries for Aunt Eunie, along with a few nighties and a bathrobe. She fed dear old Boots, who at the age of fourteen looked confused and concerned at the commotion. Then she went upstairs to get a sweater and her purse. Ewan was in the doorway when she got downstairs.

“Thank you for coming…”

“…you're bleeding.”