Mercy of St Jude (35 page)
Prior to the fall semester, Annie transferred out west to study geology. Rocks had always fascinated her. Rocks were hard, solid. They took forever to change.
In the years that followed, she saw little of Mercedes, brief unpleasant meetings during her sporadic visits home. Yet whenever Annie spoke with her mother on the phone from Calgary, Lucinda would say that Mercedes had been inquiring about her, asking how was she doing at university, did she have a boyfriend, and always, Mercedes wanted to know, was Annie happy?
Yet each time Annie came home to St. Jude, her mother would wonder aloud why, if Mercedes was so concerned over Annie's well-being, why then did the woman always make herself so scarce during the visit. In fact, Lucinda complained to Annie, Mercedes saw far more of Gerry Griffin during his trips home than she did of her own niece. And each time Lucinda would ask if something had happened between them.
Annie never enlightened her.
The morning barely dawns. It's a miserable day for a funeral.
The procession of vehicles makes its way along the road. In the black hearse at the front, Mercedes leads the way as, one by one, the cars fade into the fog.
At the gravesite, Annie stands next to her mother who, on her other side, is flanked by Dermot, Callum, Pat, Aiden and Joe. They are surrounded by family, friends and neighbours several hundred strong. Annie steals a quick scan of the crowd. She does not see him, yet just as she had in church, she senses his presence.
Father James, the handsome new priest, spends an inordinate amount of time on the virtues of forgiveness. Considering that he didn't have much of an opportunity to get to know Mercedes, Annie thinks he is doing a fine job of sending her off.
On the opposite side of the casket stands Sadie Griffin. Her eyes are intent on the young priest's face. The tip of her tongue darts out to moisten her mouth, which is slightly open; her hand comes up to graze her lower lip, then it slides down past her chin to her neck, where it rests. Annie turns her eyes away.
Father James makes the sign of the cross. The coffin begins its descent; the mourners huddle in. As the first shovel of dirt hits the casket, Annie hears a sharp intake of breath next to her. She offers her arm. Lucinda leans heavily on her until Dermot takes over and leads them all away. They're a jittery crew, a few hungover, all full of the edgy darkness and nervous energy that comes from seeing one of their own off on her final journey.
At the house, Tom Kennedy is waiting for the family. He reads the will.
To everyone's surprise, except perhaps Callum's, Mercedes had sold the house before she died. The proceeds are to be shared among the nieces and nephews. As Pat's name is read, his head shoots up. Annie smiles, then soon realizes her name is not on the list.
Next comes the property in Bay D'Esprits. Mercedes has left the smaller cabin to Callum and the larger one to Lucinda and Dermot, along with a substantial sum of money. Annie is grateful for the peace this will bring her mother. She is hardly paying attention when Tom Kennedy informs them that, except for several small bequests, the remainder of Mercedes' estate is to be divided, one half going to The Meade House for Unwed Mothers, the other half to her niece, Annie Byrne.
Annie is blindsided. Her mind is numb. She knows she should have questions but before she can get her bearings, the meeting is over. On his way out, Kennedy asks her to meet him in an hour. Then everyone rushes to congratulate her, making a great noisy fuss as if she's just caught the prize fish of the day.
When she enters Kennedy's office, she has a sense of the familiar. She wonders briefly if she might have been here before, but then realizes it is the smell she recognizes, an earthy, spicy scent. Before she can identify it, Kennedy rushes in.
“Sorry I'm late. I was seeing one of your aunt's beneficiaries, Gerry Griffin. Had to run by her house to get something she wanted him to have.” Without waiting for a response, he hands her a plain white envelope. “Mercedes left this for you, said she hoped it would explain things.”
Annie thanks him and slips the envelope into her pocket, preoccupied with the knowledge that Gerry had been in the office before her, that they might have bumped into each other in the waiting room, or in the doorway, or in the hall.
“Annie?” Kennedy is looking at her, waiting for something.
“I said I have to witness you read it. She was very specific about that.”
“Oh.” Annie's fingers fumble to open the letter. There are two pages, written in Mercedes' strong hand.
“Dear Annie, I am so sorry for the pain that I have caused you.”
Annie's heart beats faster. After all they've been through, why now is Mercedes sorry?
“You have suffered more than anyone else because of something that happened to me many years ago. I will not rest unless you know the reason why.
“Gerry Griffin's grandfather, Paddy Griffin, was your grandfather too. I am Lucinda's mother. Paddy Griffin was her biological father.”
Annie hears herself gasp. She can feel Tom Kennedy looking at her. She stands and walks to an open window before continuing. “Callum and his late wife adopted Lucinda at birth but we were never allowed to tell anyone. Judith threatened that she would make Callum's life a living hell if he ever breathed a word. She kept the threat alive even after she was dead. The only other person we have ever told is Lucinda. She had a right to know, as do you.”
“When I saw you and Gerry together, I panicked. Sharing a grandmother was bad enough, but I assumed you had both come to terms with that as well as with Sadie's connections to the family. But sharing a grandfather too, there could be no getting around that, not in your hearts, not in the eyes of God.
“All these years I have steadfastly kept the past where it belongs, knowing it was the only way to protect Callum and Lucinda. It never occurred to me that by doing so I could cause you such heartache. I could not bring myself to tell you in person. I couldn't bear to see the look in your eyes when you found out the truth.
“So I told Gerry, some of it anyway, and begged him to trust me when I said it could cause you irreparable harm. I traded on our friendship when I made him swear to leave you and to keep my secret. Gerry has always kept that promise. He has been a true friend to an old unhappy woman.”
Annie's hand shakes as she moves on to the second page.
For so long she's been tormented by the fact that Gerry and Mercedes' friendship survived, flourished even, despite what happened. How was it that they had been able to forgive each other but not her, or her them? Until this moment, she's always felt the blame must lie with her.
“As I have watched you from afar, it has been my greatest fear that you will grow old, alone and bitter, and become the woman that I am. You have a right to know why Gerry left and that it was not your fault. The rest, how it all came to be so long ago, is no longer important. It is best left buried.”
A dull ache settles in Annie's throat.
“As for the abortion, it was the only thing you could have done, Annie. It was not a union to produce a healthy child.
That was why I goaded you into it. I believe that God has forgiven us. It is time for you to do the same.”
The tears come as the truth of the letter hits home. Breathing deeply of the fresh salt air that sweeps in through the window, she glances outside, up the hill to the graveyard where Mercedes lies. Her grandmother.
“The only person who has all the answers is Callum, the man who has always been your grandfather. Believe me when I tell you he has good reason not to share them.
“As for the money, I pray it brings you freedom and happiness.
“Finally, your mother. Be good to her, for me. Let her into your life.
“I have always had the greatest faith in you, Annie. I wish I could have told you that. Perhaps I should have.”
It was signed, simply, “Mercedes.”
Annie refolds the pages and slips them back into the envelope. There are so many questions, so much unknown. But she decides that today is not the day to look for answers. Today, she will respect Mercedes' wishes.
After finishing with the paperwork, Kennedy sees her to the door. Outside on the sidewalk, she takes a moment to gather her thoughts. Eyes closed, she leans her back against the brick face of the building, trying to absorb all she has learned. So much has changed.
Footsteps approach. Instinctively she knows.
She opens her eyes. He stands before her, hands in his pockets, his gaze steady on her face. She remembers the familiar aroma in Kennedy's office.
She glances away, off to the side, anywhere but at him, wanting only to escape.
Then he says her name. “Annie. Please don't go.”
Hearing his voice, it's impossible to leave. So she turns and faces him and gives herself a good long look at the man who has owned her heart for so long. His face is more mature, thinner perhaps, the cheekbones more pronounced. Otherwise he has not changed. As his deep, dark eyes look into hers for the first time in five years, she is suddenly struck with the fear that he might ever discover the truth. She shivers in the warm June breeze.
He reaches out. “Are you cold?”
She shakes her head, doesn't trust herself to speak yet.
His hand hovers in the air. “I've thought of this moment so many times, and hoped for it every time I came home. But you were never here.”
Annie has purposely avoided him, coming home at odd times, mid-March, October, except for that one Christmas when she knew he wouldn't be there. “I'm in Calgary,” she says. “I have to go. I have to help Mom.” She is terrified that if she keeps looking into those eyes, she will let slip something that can only cause them both more pain. “Sorry⦠I've got to go.”
He catches her wrist. “Annie, I have to talk to you, to explain what happened.”
His voice again, this time reinforced by the touch of his skin on hers, those warm strong fingers that press into her lonely flesh.
She turns and leads him silently up towards the hill by the graveyard. They sit on the same boulders she played on as a girl, hidden from the world by evergreens, surrounded by the unearthly security of nearby tombstones.
She takes out Mercedes' letter and hands Gerry the first page. “Read this, then we can talk.”
She stares off into the sky's fading daylight, his nearness and the warm scent of him opening the door to memories she'd long ago locked away. He is soon finished.
“Yes, finally I know too.” She manages to say it with only a tiny tip of bitterness. “I just found out in Kennedy's office.”
“So many times I thought of writing to you and explaining everything. But I'd think of your aunt, the fear in her eyes, how hard it was for her to tell me what she did. And I'd remember the promise I made her.” He is quiet for a moment. “Then there was my mother. In the end, I had to make her a promise too.”
“Oh? What was that?”
“To never see you again.” His eyes shine with a film of tears.
“But honest to God, I didn't really believe it would be this long before I did.”
“Never is a long time,” she says.
“Too long.” He waits a moment before continuing. “I've never seen my mother so furious as she was that night. It was like she was possessed or something. All she could see was the two of us together, me with Lucinda Byrne's daughter. It sent her over the top. She threatened to ruin us all - you, Mercedes, even her own family, if I didn't do what she said.”
“How? Did she know about it all?”
“The truth is, I wasn't sure what she knew, and I certainly wasn't going to tell her. All I knew was that it was possible.
With Ma, anything is.” He pauses and looks off into the distance, then shakes his head and grins wryly. “It took me a long time to forgive her, but in the end I had to let it go.” His voice softens. “She's my mother.”