The Mill River Recluse (40 page)

“Well, sure,” Fitz said. “There’s the TV and video player for the Saturday movies. It’s over there in the supply closet. Hold on a minute.” Fitz scrambled up out of his chair and headed for the doorway where Father O’Brien had waited before the start of the meeting. Several hundred pairs of eyes watched him sort through the numerous keys on his key chain until he found the one that unlocked the supply closet. It wasn’t more than a few minutes before he had opened the closet and wheeled a tall media cart holding a television and a DVD player to the front of the meeting room. He plugged in the equipment and turned to Father O’Brien.

“I’m not so good with technology,” Father O’Brien said, handing the DVD to Fitz. “Would you mind?”

Father O’Brien stepped back and watched as Fitz slid the disc into the DVD player and turned up the volume on the television.

There were a few moments of static, and then Mary’s face appeared on the television screen.

The people sitting before him uttered a collective gasp.

Mary was wearing her eye patch. Her face was thin, but not as thin as it had been upon her death, Father O’Brien noticed. She looked alert and a little nervous, and he guessed that the recording had been made months ago, while she still had the ability to move about the marble mansion.

Mary stared into the camera for a few minutes and began to speak.

“My name is Mary Hayes McAllister. I am making this recording for the people of Mill River, where I have lived all my life.

“Mine has been a solitary life. Father O’Brien has undoubtedly told you by now about the anxiety I have suffered. It started as a girl, after one of my high school teachers forced himself on me. That terrible experience was the root of an anxiety that became worse and worse. For years, I tried to work up the courage to become part of the community. But even now, the very thought of meeting another person causes me such anguish that I can barely keep from locking myself away in a room. It is even difficult for me to sit here, knowing that so many people will see this recording. I know that I cannot stop the anxiety. I have merely learned to live with it, to take comfort in my solitude, as best I can.

“Still, like any human being, I have also wished that I might belong, that I might have friends and acquaintances, people to care about and who might care for me. Through the windows of my home, the Gazette, and Father O’Brien, you, the people of Mill River, provided me that sense of belonging.”

Mary’s voice trembled as a tear slipped from the corner of her visible eye. She swallowed hard and continued.

“For sixty years, I have cared about you. Seeing the town, reading and hearing about you and your families and your lives, always gave me such comfort. It was one-sided, yes, but it sustained me from the time I was widowed, until now, as I sit before you an old woman. I tried to reciprocate this comfort by providing for you in your times of need. I always had so much more than I needed, but I know now that what I provided wasn’t nearly enough.

“You see, not long ago, I left Mill River for the first time since I was a teenager. I learned on that day that I was dying. Coming home, seeing my house high up on the hill apart from the town, I realized how much of an outsider I have been. I’ve not done enough to allow you to get to know me. Yet, without your presence in my life, I would have died long ago.

“It would be impossible to repay you for the happiness you have unknowingly given me. But I asked myself how I might try to express my gratitude in the time I had left. As much as I long to meet all of you in person, I know that doing so would be impossible for me. I doubt that I could face any of you, and I know that by Town Meeting Day, my time in this world will have passed.

“But I can give to you everything else I have, and this I shall do.

“I know that you are honest, hardworking people. You give of yourselves even if what you have to give is little. Several among you have gone out of your way to show me undeserved kindness. I would be honored to contribute to your well-being and your happiness. You have unknowingly helped me for so long. I hope that you remember me as a friend and neighbor who will always be grateful to you.”

Mary paused, taking a deep breath before continuing.

“There is something else I want everyone to know. On the day I learned I was dying, the same day I realized how distant I must be to all of you, I learned something else that brought me great happiness. As I record this message, I have yet to tell anyone. But you need to know. Everyone needs to know.

“I was never able to return to school after the incident with my teacher. I was devastated, yes, but, as I soon discovered, I was also pregnant.

“When I was sixteen years old, I gave birth to a baby daughter. I loved her from the moment I laid eyes on her. I memorized every detail of her cherubic face, down to the shape of the birthmark that extended up onto her cheek. But I was still a child myself, and there was no way I could have provided her the life she deserved. I gave my daughter up for adoption.

“On the day I was diagnosed with cancer, I met Daisy Delaine for the first time, and I recognized her face and her birthmark. I knew my daughter had come back to me.

“Some might see it as a cruel twist of fate that I found Daisy in the waning days of my life, but I see it as a blessing. I was given time to get to know her, to learn about her life, her upbringing, her dreams. And by now, she knows me as well, and knows who I am. She knows that I have wondered about her—and loved her–all of my life.

“Like me, Daisy has lived in your midst for years but is still isolated. To you, Daisy is a familiar face but an unfamiliar person. I understand that it is human nature to avoid people who are a little different from us. But it isn’t easy for any person to exist on the perimeter of relationships, to be tolerated but not welcomed. Know that my daughter is a gentle, beautiful soul. She reaches out to you, our neighbors in Mill River, as best she can. I ask you to open your hearts and return the friendship she so freely offers, to consider her part of your families as I consider you part of mine. After all, one cannot love, or be loved by, too many people.”

Mary sniffed once as another tear slid down her cheek. She leaned forward, presumably to stop the recorder, and the television screen filled with static. Fitz slowly reached over and turned off the TV.

His face wet with tears, Father O’Brien looked away from the television screen. The floorboards creaked as he shifted position behind the podium. In the silence of the meeting room, the sound could have been the earth cracking. Many of the women dabbed at their eyes with tissues as they looked at Daisy Delaine, and him, and each other. Most of the men kept their faces turned downward. He took a deep breath. He wasn’t finished just yet.

“My dear Miss Delaine,” he said softly, “I think I speak for us all when I say that your mother was an extraordinary woman.” A collective murmur of assent rose up from the crowd. Daisy nodded and smiled, too overwhelmed to speak.

“Jim, why don’t you stand up,” Father O’Brien said to the man in the gray suit whom he had greeted before the start of the meeting. The man stood and turned to face the seated townspeople. “I’d like to introduce Jim Gasaway. Jim’s an attorney from Rutland, and a good friend. He, and his father before him, have handled Mary’s affairs since her husband died.” Jim raised a hand, smiled at the crowd, and sat down again.

“For the last year, since Mary learned that she was terminally ill, Jim and I have been making arrangements to dispose of her possessions. She insisted on absolute secrecy, and she was adamant that everything she owned be given to Mill River. To you. She wanted to make sure that she helped wherever there was a need.

“It might surprise you to know that Mary has helped all of us for a very long time. Even if you didn’t live in Mill River at the time, most of you have heard the famous story of Christmas 1973, when everyone got a new color television. That was all Mary’s idea.” His voice cracked and he blinked again. “She wanted everyone to be able to see Charlie Brown.”

Many in the crowd began to whisper, but he ignored the noise and continued. “Then there was Edna Wilson’s medical bill being paid for and the Sears tire truck rolling down Main Street. And all of the little things that happen around here—the birthday cards for kids, new baby gifts, everything. It was Mary’s doing all of those years.

The whispering became an excited hum. “I’m sure many of you remember the fire in town this past November—the one that burned Miss Delaine’s home. You probably noticed that Daisy had a brand new mobile home a few days after that fire. What you don’t know is that Mary provided that new home for Miss Delaine.”

The meeting room was awash in excited chatter, and Father O’Brien waited a moment until the conversation ebbed. “You’ll remember that earlier this month, our police department was the recipient of a brand new Jeep Cherokee to replace a vehicle totaled in an accident. Mary provided that new Jeep.”

Father O’Brien looked down at Fitz sitting to his side. The police chief was grinning, but still shaking his head in disbelief.

“There’s much more,” Father O’Brien said, hushing the meeting room again. “The old Hayes farm, about three miles west of the river, was owned by Mary’s father. That property has been deeded to the town for use as a park and recreation area. As soon as spring arrives, we’ll be sprucing it up a bit. It’ll have areas for camping and picnicking. We’ve ordered some playground equipment, too.

“I think Jim will tell you we’ve been pretty busy over the last year.” Father O’Brien smiled down at the letter as another tear worked its way down his face. “Other than a few individual gifts, which will be handled privately, most of Mary’s considerable estate has been organized into trust funds to benefit the town. There will be an annual allowance for the schools, enough to buy new textbooks for every enrolled student. The school and town libraries will receive an annual sum for the purchase of new titles. In addition, Mary’s personal collection of books, numbering over four thousand, will be donated to the town.

“There’s another trust fund for emergency health care. Mary knew that not all of you have health insurance, and that sometimes even the best insurance doesn’t cover all medical expenses. Each year, a certain amount from the emergency health fund will be divided among people in Mill River who need a little extra help covering their medical expenses.”

Father O’Brien glanced to his right, toward the window on the front side of the town hall building. The streetlight outside highlighted a fine stream of snowflakes.

“Mary loved the snow,” he said. “I think we all have to love it, to make it through winters up here, don’t you think?” The townspeople smiled. “But Mary wanted all of you to be warm in the wintertime. Another fund has been set up to provide assistance to people with heating bills. It’ll supplement the programs already run by the state. No one in Mill River will ever be cold again.

“A certain amount has been provided to help the town with necessary expenses. Like maintaining our new town park or purchasing a new police Jeep, for instance. You never know when something will break down--or be smashed into a utility pole.” Fitz snorted beside him, and several people in the crowd laughed in response. “We also hope to start a mortgage assistance program to help people in Mill River with down payments on houses, but Jim is still ironing out the kinks with that one. I expect that in the next few months, each of your families will receive a mailing describing everything that is being made available to you from Mary’s estate. Jim’s law office has graciously offered to answer any questions you may have once all of the programs are in place.”

Father O’Brien looked down at his watch. He had been standing at the podium for twenty minutes, but it had seemed like hours. A great sense of joy seized him. He had done it, he had kept his promise, and everything was wonderful. He felt waves of disbelief and delight emanating from the townspeople in front of him. Many still had expressions of amazement on their faces.

Mary would have been delighted to see them. He closed his eyes and felt quite certain that, from somewhere, she could.

“Excuse me, Father O’Brien?”

He opened his eyes, scanning the crowd to find the thin voice that had called out to him. Two small, elderly women stood slowly, arm-in-arm, and looked around at the townspeople. They were dressed differently but had identical faces and hairstyles.

“Yes?” Father O’Brien said. The women looked strangely familiar, but he couldn’t place them. The one who had first spoken continued.

“We were just wondering…well, everything that Mary has done for Mill River is absolutely delightful, and it’s wonderful how she was able to get to know her daughter, Miss Delaine, but we want to know if she left anything behind for the rest of her family.”

Father O’Brien stared, confused as to who these women were and why they would be here now, asking such a question.

“Well, she really has no other family. Her husband’s family didn’t have much to do with her after her husband’s grandfather passed.”

“Your first statement is not exactly true, Father,” the other woman said. “
We
are her family. Mary McAllister was our sister-in-law.”

He knew them then. The old women were Sara and Emma, Patrick McAllister’s younger twin sisters.

“I recognize you,” he said, but one of the twins interrupted him.

“You all must understand, we never wanted to avoid Mary. We felt sorry for her, all alone in that house after our brother died. But our mother insisted that no one on our side have any contact with her. We had no choice.”

The other sister nodded in agreement. “Our parents threatened to disinherit us if we so much as mentioned her name.”

“But we heard about Mary’s death, and the announcement to be made at the meeting tonight. And we thought that maybe she would have left something for her family. After all, it was our grandfather who took care of her in the first place.”

Father O’Brien was incredulous. He could not fathom the audacity of these women, coming out of nowhere after sixty years to demand part of her estate. He began to seethe with such a suppressed rage as he had never before experienced, a rage that had grown from seeing Mary abandoned by the McAllister family. From watching her suffer, day after day, year after year. From stifling his own dreams to ensure her safety and feeling helpless to offer her any relief from her isolation except his own company. From doing everything he could to ensure that tonight, this one night, her final wish would become a beautiful reality. Father O’Brien’s hands began to tremble again.