The Hull Home Fire (13 page)

THE TEMPERATURE HAD REMAINED AT
fifteen below zero during the
day, dipping another ten degrees by suppertime. The wind swirled around the
house, groping, searching for a way inside. Icicles hung like shark’s teeth,
sharp and uneven from every window. They peered in at Tom, boasting their
prowess, taunting him. He looked toward his crutches and felt a spasm of
helplessness. His efforts to get rid of them had only made them more aggressive,
intent on returning stronger and bigger than before.

Tom tore his eyes from the window and buried his head in the
Evening
Telegram
. Bright yellow-orange flames popped and hissed in the grate.
Thanks to the hall stove and the fireplace, the living room was warm, inviting.
Alice darned the heel of her husband’s woollen work sock. Three more pairs lay
on the couch beside her waiting their turn. Every now and again she would pause
and stare into the fire.

Henry’s head hung over a Sherlock Holmes novel. He had read the same paragraph
three times and couldn’t recall a word. The grandfather clock in the corner
chimed eight times. Henry
glanced at his mother. She sat tall,
her hands still, looking at the clock as if counting the chimes. He felt her
anxiety, thick in the air, seep into him. It’ll be all right, he wished he could
tell her, and went back to the book and the same paragraph.

“Ow !” Alice yelped. A drop of blood landed on her dress. Henry and Tom looked
at her. “I pricked my finger,” she said, sucking the tip of her thumb.

“That’s a first,” Tom said. “You can darn socks in the dark without a hitch.
Love, time will lessen the heartache of Dot’s loss.”

Henry caught his mother’s eyes. If Dad only knew the real reason for her
nerves, he thought. Her expression seemed to question why Mike was not here. She
turned to her husband, who had gone back to the paper.

“Smallwood’s made the headlines again,” Tom said. “He’s like a spider after a
fly when it comes to Confederation.”

“What does he have to say this time ?” Alice asked. Henry sensed a hint of
anxiety which he knew had little to do with Confederation.

“The man’s still flapping his gums about all the wonderful benefits we’ll
receive as Canadians.” Tom bunched up the
Telegram
and threw it into the
fire. “Makes you wonder what he’s getting out of it.”

He wants the best for Newfoundland, Henry nearly said out loud.

All three watched the paper shrivel and crumble into ashes.

Tom pointed to the black soot. “That’s what will happen to Newfoundland if
Smallwood gets his way.”

“Dad, change can be good.”

Tom continued to gaze into the fire. “None that I’ve lived through,” he said so
quietly Henry wasn’t sure he heard him
correctly. The crackle in
the grate competed with the rumble of the wind in the chimney.

Three raps sounded on the door. Alice dropped the darning on her lap. The
needle slid down her leg, dangling close to the floor like a hanged man. “Oh,
my,” she cried out.

Tom roused himself from his reverie. “Goodness, love, it’s only someone at the
front door.”

Alice gathered up her work. “I reckon Dr. Kennedy’s right,” she said. “My
nerves are stretched to the breaking point.”

A second round of louder knocks blasted into the room. “I’ll get that,” Henry
said, forcing his voice to sound calm. Through the glass at the top of the door
he saw the shape of a man. Mike. The spectre of many long-ago Christmases. Would
his father allow himself to face this ghost ?

Mike’s hands were deep in his pockets. A scarf covered his neck and ears. “I
don’t ever remember it being this cold,” he said.

“Neither does anyone else.”

“Who is it ?” Tom called.

Mike leaned a hand against the wall for support and wiped his feet on the hall
mat. He gave his nephew a look which said it’s now or never and walked to the
living room with an almost undetectable limp. “It’s me, Tommy,” he said.

Tom’s mouth moved, but no words came out.

Mike looked at Alice, a soft smile on his face. “Hello, sister-in-law. It’s
wonderful to finally meet you.”

“It’s incredible,” Alice said. “You’re a perfect, older version of Tom.”

Mike chuckled. “I’ve been told worse things.”

“I don’t want you in my home,” Tom spat out. “Leave now.”

“Alice, Henry, I’d like to speak with my brother in private, if you don’t
mind.”

“I mind,” Tom snapped.

“We’ll be in the kitchen,” Alice said, and fled from the room with Henry.

Tom gripped the arms of his chair. “I have nothing to say to you. Get
out.”

Mike stepped forward. “Well, I have much to say to you.” He advanced farther
into the room. “The least you can do is listen. You owe me that much.”

Tom laughed, a deep, guttural noise that conveyed no joy. “I owe you. What a
joke.” He grabbed his crutches from the side of the armchair and tried to stand
up. His heels slid from the stool, striking the floor with a thud. Tom winced in
pain and flopped back into the chair.

“Frankie told me about your accident,” Mike said. “You’re lucky to be
alive.”

Tom stared at the icicles outside the window, his face harder, colder.

Mike sat down on the couch. “You don’t know how difficult it was to leave our
parents and you, Tommy, a ten-year-old boy who believed I could do no
wrong.”

“I outgrew that years ago.” Tom kept his eyes fixed on the icicles.

“My loneliness was like a sore that wouldn’t heal. My new life wasn’t easy,
Tommy.”

“Don’t call me that,” Tom said. “I’m not a child anymore.”

“Not being able to get home for Mom or Dad’s funeral tore me apart. I had no
choice in the matter.”

Tom’s face reddened. Even his ears glowed. “Tore you apart.” His voice
quivered. “Had no choice. Do you truly believe you’re talking to the gullible
youngster who used to hang on your every word ?” The veins in his neck bulged
out
like thick rope. “You have some gall. This is the last time
I will tell you to get out of my house.”

Mike got to his feet slowly. “I’ll go for now. However, you’re not the only one
with a stubborn streak. You will hear me out one way or another.”

Alice came back into the living room when she heard the front door close. Tom
looked into the fireplace. She looked at her husband’s profile. A sinew in his
jaw ticked like a rapid heartbeat. “What did Mike have to say for himself ?” she
said.

Tom turned to her, his face white. “Where’s Henry ?”

“Don’t try to change the subject, Tom Gibbs. This is important.”

“I’m beat, Alice. Besides, it’s time for bed.” He muttered and grumbled at his
sore arm muscles as he pushed himself up. “I want to go to bed. Where’s
Henry ?”

“Here,” Henry said, hurrying from the kitchen. “Are you all right ?”

“I want to go upstairs.”

Henry passed the crutches to his father and followed him up the stairs, a
buffer in case he tumbled backwards. Tom didn’t utter a word, bringing down the
tips of the wooden sticks on every step a little harder than was necessary. He
stayed silent while Alice helped him undress.

“He still has his Newfoundland accent,” she said when they were in bed.

“What ?”

“Mike... he still has it. You can’t take Newfoundland out of the person.”

“You can take him out of Newfoundland.”

Alice sighed inwardly. “How did you feel when you saw Mike ?”

“Angry.”

“Is that all ?”

Tom looked sideways at his wife. “What would you like me to say ?”

“The truth. Somewhere inside you must want to know what kept Mike away.”

He was silent for a moment. “Dot wasn’t a blood relative, but you know I
thought the world of her.”

Alice nuzzled closer to Tom. “She loved you, too. What does my mother have to
do with Mike ?”

“Distance wouldn’t have prevented me from attending her funeral.”

Alice smeared a tear across her cheek. “The little boy never really dies in a
man,” she said. “He’s the one that must’ve been thrilled to see his little
brother.”

Tom’s body became rigid. “You’re wrong, Alice. Mike killed that child when he
didn’t show up the day our father was buried.”

Alice looked up at her husband. His jaw locked tight, he stared out the window.
Icicles stared back. “That’s the hurt talking,” she said, and turned off the
lamp. “It’s never too late to make amends.”

DR
.
KENNEDY WAITED IN THE
study for Mike’s
return. He cradled a whisky in one hand while browsing through a medical journal
on tuberculosis.

The housekeeper looked in through the open door. “I’m off to bed,” she said.
“Is there anything I can get you before I go ?”

“No, thank you, Mrs. Simms. Good night.”

“I baked cheese buns in case you crave a little something to eat later on.
They’re cooling on the kitchen sink. Dr. Gibbs sure is partial to my buns.” She
giggled. “Good night, Doctor.”

Dr. Kennedy chucked the journal aside. He glanced at the
telephone on his desk, tempted to call the Gibbs house. “Don’t be an idiot. What
excuse will you give for calling at this late hour ?”

“Ah,” Mike said. “I see you still converse with yourself.”

“Maybe if you didn’t sneak up on people you wouldn’t hear their private
thoughts.”

Mike looked at the drink cupped in his friend’s hands. “I could use one of
those,” he said, and filled a glass to the rim.

“I take it the visit wasn’t a success,” the doctor said.

Mike gulped down the whisky. His hair was windblown, his nose red, his eyes
watery from the cold. “You could say that.” He poured a second drink. “Tommy...
Tom didn’t give me a chance to even begin an explanation.”

Dr. Kennedy topped up his own glass. “Can’t say as I blame him.”

Mike sat down and looked at his friend. “Why would you say that ?”

“Tom pined after you for years. He was a few years younger than Henry when your
parents died within months of each other. He drew into himself, enlisted in the
army, and went off to war.” He took another swig of alcohol. “The boy came back
bewildered, lonely — that is, until he met Alice. She brought purpose and love
back into his life.”

“How did they meet ?”

“In my office. Alice left her gloves in the reception area. Tom, ever the
chivalrous young man, chased her down the road to return them.” Dr. Kennedy
smiled. “Alice denies it, of course, but I’m sure she deliberately left the
gloves behind.”

Mike ran a finger around the rim of his glass. “She’s a lovely woman.”

“Tom’s a fine man most days. What’s your next step ?”

“Keep at Tom until he listens.”

“Mike, why on earth didn’t you simply show him up front why you missed your
parents’ funerals ?”

“I wanted him to hear me out first. Why does my brother have to so
inflexible ?”

“Tom can be obstinate. Look at your own father.”

“True,” Mike said. “Once he latched onto something, it stuck tighter than a
nail hammered in wood.” Mike ground a fist into his hand.

“You can’t be all that shocked about Tom’s reaction tonight. Why are you so
upset about it ?”

Mike went to the fireplace and looked into the dying embers. “For nearly forty
years I kept Tommy alive in my heart. Tonight, reality smacked me in the face.”
He turned to Dr. Kennedy. “Tommy’s gone, replaced with the man named Tom, who
doesn’t want me back in his life.”

EARLY THE NEXT MORNING
,
HENRY
woke to find the
door he had left open the night before closed. Once awake, he could never stay
in bed.

Tom Gibbs was sitting at the kitchen table with tea and toast when Henry
strolled into the heated kitchen. “I lit the stoves this morning. A nice break
for your mother.” He wore a housecoat and hadn’t shaved.

“I didn’t hear you pass my room,” Henry said.

Tom rubbed his two knees. “I crawled down the hall, shut your door so as not to
disturb you, and came down the stairs on my backside.” He frowned. “It was a
chore to drag the crutches along without making noise.”

Henry put bread on the toaster doors. “Dad, you don’t look like you closed your
eyes the whole night.”

“Too much on my mind. What are you doing up so early ?” A light
grey smoke drifted up from the toaster. Tom made a face. “Don’t know how you can
eat burned bread.”

Henry spread blueberry jam on the charred toast. “It tastes better that way.”
He licked his fingers. “It’s time I look for a new job.”

“Why ?” Tom brushed invisible bread crumbs from his lap.

“You’re laid up with no income, Dad. The money the longshoremen collected won’t
last forever. A few months’ earnings will help tide us over until you get on
your feet again.”

“Any prospects lined up ?”

Henry drank a little tea. “I spoke with Fred. The bakery doesn’t need
anyone.”

“Maybe one of the downtown stores might need someone good with figures.”