Amazing Grace Page 16

  “Why didn’t you tell me in Halifax that you were a homosexual?”

  “I’m not!”

  “I wouldn’t have cared. It wouldn’t have mattered in the least.”

  “Grace! I’m not. Don’t judge me like this. It’s a mistake, one I won’t make again.”

  “You lied to me. Yet another man who used me to get what he wanted. A charade of a marriage to keep his father quiet. A dumb wife to produce the kid to keep his father happy, and the freedom to do what he wants because what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. It must have made you feel great to know that you were saving me, despite the sacrifices you were making.”

  “I’m so sorry. I love you. I love our son! This makes no difference! It means nothing. It’s an itch I scratch, that’s all. You and Jonathan are my family. Not that guy. Not any guy!”

  “Jonathan is my son, not yours.”

  He holds his hands to his head. “No, Grace. Don’t do that. Don’t say that. I know you’re angry, but never say that.”

  “I’m taking him and I’m leaving this city. You and your father will have to console each other. Make sure you tell him why I left.”

  My bag and my purse are still in my hand, and I run down the stairs and out of that house, Aaron shouting behind me, “Don’t go! Don’t do this, Grace! I’ll make it up to you.”

  Poor old Aaron. It’s not entirely his fault, but there’s the saying, the straw that broke the camel’s back. He just happens to be that straw.

  I run to my car and he chases me, but I see he has his car keys in his hand. He’s going to try to get to Jonathan before I do. That is not going to happen. I pull out of our driveway and put my foot to the floor. I’m halfway up the street when I see his sports car tear into the road, almost hitting a car in the process.

  Now it’s a race. There are no thoughts in my head, only that I’m taking my son away from these two men. Sometimes that’s all you can do, just run away from the master. It’s the only way out.

  I’m almost at Tommy’s house when I glance in the rear-view mirror and see Aaron run a red light. A truck T-bones him in the intersection. At the exact moment of Aaron’s death, his car flies apart, pieces falling to the ground almost gracefully.

  I’m out of my car and running. A crowd of people have gathered. I push them out of the way and stumble over to the smoking car.

  “Aaron! Oh my god, Aaron. No.”

  Someone grabs me and takes me away before I can see him. I catch a glimpse of his blue shirt covered in blood. There are sirens and people shouting.

  “I’m his wife! I’m his wife! Let me go!”

  A medic insists I sit in an ambulance so I don’t have to watch them scrape my husband off the road. I hold my head in my hands.

  “It’s all my fault. It’s all my fault.”

  “It was an accident,” he says.

  “No, you don’t understand. I have the devil in me.”

  We’re taken to the hospital where Aaron is pronounced dead on arrival. I’m ranting; someone gives me a needle to take the edge off, but it doesn’t. They finally let me in the room to say goodbye. Aaron is covered with a sheet.

  A nurse looks at me sympathetically. “You might not want to see his face. Perhaps you should remember him as he was.”

  “I did this. I need to see the mess I made.” Before she can stop me, I pull back the sheet and expose my poor, broken Aaron, who only hours ago was having fun in his bedroom. If I’d stayed at that spa, I never would’ve have known about this and we’d go together to pick up Jonathan and take him home for Sunday dinner.

  I’ve killed Jonathan’s father.

  There’s a commotion outside the room. It’s Oliver, shouting and demanding to see his son. When he opens the door, he doesn’t even see me. His face crumbles at the sight of the sheet and I back away as he approaches Aaron’s body, whereupon he drapes himself over him and weeps.

  I leave before he can talk to me and take a taxi home. I don’t know what else to do. All I can think of is Jonathan. I need to be the one to tell him, before his grandfather does. I call Tommy’s parents and ask them to drive Jonathan home. I don’t tell them why, just say it’s a family emergency and please don’t let on to Jonathan.

  It’s almost half an hour before I hear my son at the door. He’s not happy.

  “Why am I here? I’m missing out on everything. You said I could stay for the weekend and we were having fun. Why are you so mean?”

  Taking his hand I lead him to the stairs and pull him down beside me on a step so I can put my arm over his shoulders.

  “Something happened to Daddy.”

  His face instantly pales. “What?”

  “He had a car accident.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “No. I’m so sorry Jonathan, but he died.”

  The sobs come fast and furious. All I can do is hold him and weep. We are two lost souls. Every time I glance at Jonathan’s swollen face, I feel such overwhelming guilt. Why did I tell Aaron he wasn’t Jonathan’s father? He was the very best father he could be. No wonder Aaron panicked when I left. He knew me well enough to know that if I did get to Jonathan first, I was capable of disappearing with the boy forever.

  The agony is relentless. I’m afraid to move as my son clings to me. How are we going to survive this?

  Our front door bangs open and there’s Oliver looking like Satan himself, completely dishevelled and raging. He points to me.

  “You did this you nasty bitch! You killed him. I should’ve done away with you a long time ago.”

  “Stop it! You’re scaring Jonathan.”

  Oliver towers over us. “He should be scared. His mother killed his father.”

  Jonathan looks at me with his big eyes. “What’s he saying?”

  “He’s distraught, as we all are.” I stand up and hide Jonathan behind me. “I want you to stop this now, Oliver. He’s just lost his father. He doesn’t understand anything and you’re not helping.”

  “I don’t give a shit if you think I’m helping or not. I’ve lost my only child and you’re worried about what I might say? Witnesses told police there was a chase and a car matching your description was ahead of Aaron by only moments. That means it’s your fault. You took my boy away from me and now I have no one, but that’s about to change.”

  He reaches behind me and grabs Jonathan by the shirt. “You’re coming with me. I don’t trust your mother not to kill you too.”

  “Mom wouldn’t kill me! Mom, tell him you won’t kill me!”

  I grab Oliver by the arm. “Stop it! Stop it! Give me back my son. He and I need to be together. This is monstrous! I’ll call the police.”

  “Go ahead. Call the police. You’ll find they’re on my side. You’re a nobody. You’ll always be a nobody. You are to stay out of this child’s life forever. Do you hear me? I never want you near him again, and if I find that you disobey me, you will suffer the consequences and so will he.”

  He picks up the shocked Jonathan and marches out the door with him.

  “Stop it! This is kidnapping! Leave him alone!”

  “Mom! I’m scared.”

  “It’s okay, baby. Mommy’s here and I’ll get you back.”

  Oliver almost throws Jonathan in the back of the town car, then turns to me and sticks his finger in my face. “You come near either of us again and you’re dead. And don’t think I don’t mean it. You’re dead. I’ll put a bullet in your head myself.”

  The last thing I hear before he shuts the door is Jonathan calling for me.

  The car speeds away and leaves me standing there.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  NOW

  Our food is cold and untouched. The entire restaurant is buzzing while Jonathan and I are in this bubble of long-ago memories. Neither of us speaks; we just look at each other with pain on our faces. The energy
it took to tell him and the stamina he required to hear it are overwhelming. I have nothing left and by the slump of his shoulders, I know it’s the same for him.

  “I don’t remember the day Dad died. I don’t remember any of it.”

  “Consider that a gift.”

  “Did you try and see me?”

  “Of course I did. Once I made it into your grandfather’s house, but he had me arrested for trespassing.”

  “Did you tell them you were my mother?”

  “I told everyone who would listen to me, but your grandfather’s reach was vast. It’s very easy to brand a woman as a hysterical menace, someone to be put away and forgotten. When you have no one to vouch for you, people can paint you in any light they choose. After a while I had no mental or physical energy left. There was also you to consider. I didn’t think you needed any more trauma in your life.”

  “I needed my mother.”

  “I know that now, Jonathan. I should’ve known better; I lived with that horror myself. But I think at the time I was so depleted in mind, body, and spirit, that I wouldn’t have been any help to you. You would have been frightened by me.”

  “You should have tried.”

  “Yes, you’re right. I should have tried until it killed me. I live with that regret every day of my life. If I’d said no to Aaron’s plan and parted ways with him then, I could have gone back to Marble Mountain and raised you there myself. It was a scary thought at the time, but in the end I could have relied on neighbours and the few friends I had, and our lives would’ve been very different, and maybe even happier. That haunts me.”

  “But if that was the case, I wouldn’t have Melissa.”

  “You see. Something good did come of it in the end.”

  “I thought you left me because I was bad. That you didn’t love me anymore.”

  “Is that what your grandfather told you?”

  “Pretty much. After a while I believed him.”

  I take a sip of water and so does he, our food congealed on the plates in front of us. The waiter asks if we need anything and Jonathan asks him to take the food away and give us two coffees instead. Once the warm liquid goes down my now-hoarse throat, I feel a little better.

  “Did you ever get my letter, with my Marble Mountain address and phone number?”

  “The one you sent to Tommy’s parents? Yes, they gave it to me. I hid it from Grandfather, but I think now he might have found out about it, or even searched my room, because it was after that when he sent me away to boarding school. Probably so you couldn’t find me.”

  “I thought maybe you’d get in touch with me when you were eighteen.”

  “No, I wanted to hurt you.”

  “I understand.”

  “It was Deanne who suggested I get in touch with you, remember? She said that you needed to know we were having a child.”

  “It was the happiest day in my life when you called.”

  “On the occasions we did meet after that, Grandfather would fake some kind of emergency to get my attention, but there was nothing he could do to stop me. I was a married man.” He wipes his hand through his hair. “I can’t believe this. He’s insane.”

  “You need to be careful, Jonathan. It might not be in your best interest to say anything to him about the past. You now know what he’s capable of.”

  “That will be my decision.”

  “I’m so proud of you. You are a credit to your father. Your real father. Aaron adored you.”

  For the first time I see Jonathan’s eyes well up with tears. “I still miss him.”

  “As do I. He was a good, good man. I now know there are wonderful men out there. I’m sitting in front of one of them.”

  He grins at me. “You’re my mom. You have to say that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  We finish our coffee and put on our coats to leave. Jonathan holds mine out so I can slide into it. I take the opportunity to give him a quick squeeze and he hugs me back. Progress.

  We go back to the apartment and say good night to each other. There is no energy to say anything else. I take a hot bath to ease my sore muscles and call Fletcher before I get too sleepy.

  “How are things going?” he says.

  “I passed a milestone today. Jonathan knows the truth and tonight I feel as light as air.”

  “Well, now. I’m very glad. Are you coming home soon?”

  “Do you and the critters miss me?”

  He laughs. “No, not really. I’ve had Dora up here almost every night bringing goodies. Her Christmas baking.”

  “Listen you, stop aggravating me.”

  “I must say, her coconut balls are pretty spectacular.”

  “You are going to be in big trouble when I get there.”

  “Say good night, Beulah.” Beulah barks on command.

  “Where is she? In your beard?”

  “That’s right. She’s my beard warmer.”

  “I miss home. I’ll be there soon.”

  “Good.”

  My sleep is sound for the first time in a long time. It’s like I’m drugged. It’s almost ten o’clock when I emerge to see Jonathan on the living room sectional, staring out the window. The sky is the colour of steel. The moisture outside drips on the windows and there’s an accumulation of snow down below on the street.

  I’m still in my robe as I sit in the armchair opposite him. “Did you get any sleep?”

  “A little.”

  Linn hears me and comes in with a cup of coffee. “Good morning, Grace.”

  “Linn, you’re a life saver. Any toast going?”

  “Right away.” She hurries out to the kitchen.

  “It will be Christmas soon,” he says.

  “The church ladies will be in a tizzy if I don’t get back in a hurry. I’m in charge of the food drive and the craft table at the Christmas tea and sale.”

  “So you enjoy your life in Cape Breton.”

  “It’s the place where I found peace.”

  “When you left after Dad died, is that where you went?”

  “The only thing I could think of was to crawl back to Aunt Pearl and Aunt Mae’s house. I literally had nowhere else to go. I had some clothes in a suitcase and my aunt’s money in the bank when I got there.”

  “You didn’t take your belongings? Or Dad’s money? An insurance policy?”

  “I didn’t feel I deserved anything that your father and I shared, since I killed the man. I wanted nothing to do with your grandfather’s money. Only your baby blanket. I put it in my purse before I left. The only other thing I took was the car, because I knew it would make leaving easier.”

  “So in 1984 when Dad died, until I got in touch with you in ‘97 about Melissa’s impending birth, what did you do? That’s thirteen years unaccounted for.”

  “Oh lordy. Do you really want me to open up that can of worms?”

  “Might as well get everything on the table.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  THEN

  Oliver makes sure that I can’t attend Aaron’s funeral. There are security guards standing at the entrance of the cemetery. That’s for my benefit. I’m hoping for a glimpse of Jonathan as I stand outside the gates, but I don’t see him. Imagine not letting a child say goodbye to his dad. It’s only about Oliver’s loss. Jonathan and I are not even considered.

  When I try to see Lydia, they won’t let me in, saying if I show up on the property again they will call the police. Oliver obviously got to them first. The idea of never seeing Lydia fills me with longing. Pretending she was my mom on my visits made me feel needed. Will she miss me, or even remember me?

  The only information I get is from the papers. Aaron’s death is plastered all over the front pages. Oliver Willingdon Suffers Tragic Loss.

  The time comes when I know I have to go. The tho
ught of killing myself in the house is a temptation, but I don’t want Jonathan to have to endure another loss—that is, if his grandfather would even tell him.

  I drive straight through from New York City to Marble Mountain, stopping only at the border and for gas. It takes me roughly twenty hours. When I pull into the yard and see my poor neglected farmhouse, something inside me breaks. There is literally a wrenching of my heart and my first instinct is to run out of the yard, down through the field, and out onto the shore. It’s October; the leaves are turning and the lake is quiet in its welcome. I throw myself into the water and don’t even feel the frigid cold. To lie with my head under and drift feels like the only relief I’ve had since I looked in that rear-view mirror.

  Eventually I have to take a breath and my body protests the cold, but for that moment I was elsewhere.

  It’s a long slow climb back through the field, with my sodden clothes hanging off me. When I turn the key and take my belongings into the dusty, forlorn rooms, I strip off my clothes and wrap myself up in the quilts that I left in the cedar chest. My old bed beckons and I sleep for hours. When I wake I have no idea where I am, or even who I am. For one brief second I think that Aunt Pearl is downstairs and my heart leaps, but reality rushes in and I’m in the dark once more.

  Eventually I have to attend to practical matters, and I hang my soggy clothes out on the line. Then it’s the cleaning of the fireplace and stove and rinsing a few dishes. Once the water heater fills up I take a bath in my beloved tub, remembering that Aunt Mae would yell up the stairs to say supper was on the table about ten minutes after I had dipped my toes into a bubble bath. It annoyed me then, but I would give anything to hear it now. The junk food I grabbed at gas stations feeds me that first night, and I make my bed with sheets so I can sink back into oblivion and not have to remember. But for now the fire is ablaze in the hearth and the flames mesmerize me, to the point where I don’t hear the pounding on the door at first. When I do, I’m startled and grab the fire poker before creeping into the front hall.