The Hull Home Fire (19 page)

“Thank you, Mrs. Norris.”

“How was your first day at the butter factory ?”

“Good,” Henry said, aware his mother kept her friend up to date.

“Mary’s in her room having a rest.”

“Oh,” Henry said, his voice heavy with disappointment. “I’ll drop back another
time.”

“Never you mind that. It’s time she came down for supper.” Flora turned toward
the kitchen. “See yourself up.”

Henry mounted the steps two at a time and trod softly down the hall. The floor
creaked. He knocked, waited, then entered. Mary lay facing the door, a pillow
cushioned under her broken shoulder. A checkered quilt covered her to the waist.
Her eyes were closed, a hand tucked under a cheek. Henry noticed the dark
circles, emphasizing her paleness. “Mary,” he whispered.

She mumbled something he couldn’t make out. Her lids fluttered
open. “Henry. Why won’t you leave me be ?”

A knot twisted tighter in his stomach. “All I ask is that you hear me out.
Really listen to what I have to say.”

Mary sat up. The moon’s glow cast her face in shadows. “If I do, will you
leave ?”

Henry remained where he was. “Yes.”

“All right. Though it’ll be a waste of time. You’ve already said everything
there is to say.”

“I’ve decided to forget about medical school.”

Mary fell back against the headboard. “I didn’t ask you to do that, so don’t
put the responsibility for that on me.”

“It’s my choice, Mary. One that I make without regrets.” Henry took a step into
the room. “The fire put my life in perspective.”

“Henry, please. That’s enough.”

“Let me finish. You and the baby are more important to me than being a doctor.”
Henry moved forward another step. “Before the fire, I didn’t consider you. I
know now what’s in my heart.” He smiled. “I want you and the baby.”

Mary looked away. “Please, Henry.” She stopped talking when the front door
opened. They listened to Dougie stamp his feet on the front mat and call out
asking what was for supper. Henry inched closer to the bed. “You can turn me
away as many times as you want. I’ll keep coming back. We can have a good life
together.”

Mary’s expression was unreadable. “Are you done ?”

Henry stood tall. “For the time being.”

“You keep saying the fire brought on your big turnaround. If I wasn’t pregnant,
would you be here wanting me to marry you ?”

“Even if you weren’t pregnant, I’d be asking you to marry
me.”

Mary laughed. “Sidestepping the issue is a good ploy. No one can ever accuse
you of being dim-witted.” She sighed, exhausted. “Henry, for the last time,
forget about me.”

“No,” was all he said before walking out of the room. “Because I love you,” he
muttered under his breath in the hallway.

Flora poked her head in Mary’s bedroom as soon as Henry had gone. “He has a
point,” she said. “If you weren’t in the family way you would marry him.”

Mary stared at her mother. “How can you say that ?”

“Don’t bother to deny it,” Flora said with a wave of her hand. “Your face says
it all.”

ALICE SAT AT THE KITCHEN
table, turning the pages of the family
photo album.

Tom stood in the door leaning heavily on his crutches. “Are you ready, love ?”
he said softly. “Mike’s waiting out front with Henry.”

Alice ran a finger across the picture of her mother snapped on Christmas
morning. Dot was smiling, unaware that Tom had taken her picture. She held the
pearl necklace Alice had scrimped and saved a whole year to buy. Alice kissed
the photo, closed the book, and stood up like it was a monumental effort. “I’m
as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Tom moved toward his wife. “Henry picked up the flowers for Dot’s grave.”

“Good,” Alice said. “Carnations were her favourite. Remember how she liked to
have them in her room at the Home ?” A shadow passed over her face. “That’s the
only birthday present I can give her now.” She clasped the locket to her heart
and returned it to the inside of her sweater.

Alice walked behind Tom down the hall. She hesitated
when he
opened the door. “I don’t know if I can bear to see the grave.” She leaned
against the wall. “It’s terrible that I haven’t gone since the funeral.”

Tom smiled. “Dot will understand if you’re not ready.” He kissed the top of her
head. “Are you all right ?”

“I’m being silly,” she said. “Let’s go.” The sun shone and the wind was quiet.
The temperature had risen by five degrees.

Tom grinned. “I bet Dot arranged this lovely day just for you, Alice.”

Alice nodded, the hint of a smile on her face.

Mike sat in the driver’s seat of Dr. Kennedy’s Buick and watched his brother
and sister-in-law walk toward the car. Tom’s face was drawn. It suddenly
occurred to Mike the depth of the love that Tom had felt for his
mother-in-law.

Henry helped his father into the front passenger seat. Alice joined her son in
the back seat. No one spoke on the drive to the cemetery. Mike turned in to the
main gate off the boulevard and parked as close to the gravesite as possible.
Tom struggled with his crutches, careful not to slip on the pathway and over the
hard-packed snow.

Alice hesitated as they approached Dot’s grave.

“You can do this,” Tom said.

Alice sighed, and moved to the gravesite, and placed the carnations, neatly
arranged in a pale blue vase, on the hard snow beside a bouquet of fresh, white
carnations. “Those must be from Father Whitten,” she said. “He always gave Mom
those for a special occasion.”

Henry picked up a stray white petal and placed it with the others. “I ran into
Father Whitten outside the butter factory yesterday. He’d just come from
visiting Gran.”

Alice stared at the black marble headstone placed on her
father’s grave when she was a child, the space slotted for Dot’s name now
filled in. “Happy birthday, Mom.”

Tom and Mike stayed a little to the side and back a few steps. “I talked to
Lilah last night and asked her to come for a visit,” Mike said, his voice low.
“She arrives the day after tomorrow.”

“Alice will like that,” Tom said. “It’ll give her something to look forward
to.”

“Lilah’s been after me for years to show her where I grew up.” Mike looked
sideways at Tom. “She’s anxious to meet the man who’s even more stubborn than
me.” His gaze drifted down at the lake. “We had some good times at the Regatta,
didn’t we ?”

“We sure... what the hell is he doing here ?” Tom said, his eyes on a man
walking through the lower entrance, his head held high.

“Who is it ?” Mike asked.

“Isaac Hull,” Tom almost spat out. “As far as I’m concerned, he’s the man who
killed Dot and all the others.”

“He looks so ordinary,” Mike said.

Henry turned just as Isaac reached the group. “Hello, Mr. Hull,” he said. “I’m
surprised to see you here.”

“I came to pay my respects to the residents we lost in the fire.” Isaac nodded
to Alice. “Mrs. Gatherall was certainly one of the finest women in the Home. My
wife and I miss her wit and charm.”

Tom laughed out loud. “Pay your respects ! You don’t know the meaning of the
word. I doubt any of those killed would want you here.”

Isaac stood to his full height. “Those are harsh words, Mr. Gibbs,” he said.
“And I might add that you do not have the right to speak for people you never
knew.”

“Maybe if you’d been man enough to stay and organize a rescue,
some of the dead would still be alive.” Tom’s hands tightened on his crutches.
“Instead an old woman and a slip of a girl took on that responsibility for
you.”

Alice hurried to her husband’s side. “Tom, please let it go.”

“Look here, Mr. Gibbs,” Isaac said. “The possibility of a fire never once
crossed my mind. That’s why there wasn’t any firefighting equipment at the
Home.” He glanced at Henry as if seeking support, then looked back to Tom. “No
one saw fit to inform me that some safety conditions could have been improved
upon.”

Tom looked Isaac up and down, as if he found the sight of him distasteful.
“Don’t try and sell that bill of goods to me,” he said. “If you’d truly cared
about those old and sick people you would’ve made sure they were safe.”

“You know absolutely nothing about me and therefore have no idea about what I
would or would not have done. I’m late for an appointment.” Isaac turned and
walked back the way he had come.

“Tom,” Alice said. “You were a tad hard on him.”

Henry stared after his former employer. “I’m not sure I agree,” he said. “Mary
warned him over and over about the stove. He ignored her every time.”

Mike looked down to the road. Isaac got in a car and drove away. “The man did
come across as if he didn’t have anything to be ashamed of,” he said. “Do you
think it’s possible Mr. Hull is harder on himself than he’s willing to
admit ?”

“Right,” Tom sneered. “And I’ll be able to run around the lake tomorrow.”

Alice shook her head. “All this arguing is useless,” she said. “No matter who’s
at fault, nothing anyone says or does will
bring Mom and the
others back. I don’t want to spend good energy on resentment or hatred.” She
drew her arm through her husband’s. “Tom, you know that Mom would agree with
me.”

He looked away, but not before Mike saw a spark of grief dull his eyes.

Henry blessed himself. “We best get a move on,” he said, “if we want to be on
time for dinner at Dr. Kennedy’s house.”

“Believe me,” Mike said with an exaggerated moan. “Mrs. Simms will give us all
a tongue banging if we’re even a minute late.”

MARY SAT BACK INTO THE
rocker, her head resting on the wooden
spindles. Light from the moon glowed like an electric bulb in a star-rippled
sky. Despite the thick quilt tucked around her legs and shoulders, she was cold.
Her breath transformed into a grey mist with every exhalation. The headache that
had awakened her at dawn had finally subsided. Hunger gnawed at her stomach,
stimulated even more by the smell of baking bread, and for the first time all
day she felt well enough to eat. She threw off the quilt and was about to stand
up when the sound of a car caught her attention.

Dr. Kennedy chugged to a stop in front of the Gibbs house and turned off the
motor. Henry helped his father out of the car while Mrs. Gibbs, the doctor, and
a man Mary had never seen before headed toward the front door. She studied the
stranger. Tall, broad-shouldered, dark-haired. Alice said something to him and
he smiled. His eyes seemed to light up. He must be the deserter brother, she
thought.

Mike Gibbs looked up and smiled at Mary. Startled, she turned away from the
window.

Dougie stood in the doorway, motionless, his face hidden in
shadows. “Mom said Mr. Gibbs was wrong about his brother the same way you’re
wrong about Henry.”

“You’ll understand why I feel the way I do in a few years,” Mary said in a
weary voice.

Dougie shifted to the side and his face became visible. “Sometimes I think I
understand better than you do,” he said, and left.

Mary looked back out the window. The street was empty, looking lonely without
the people to keep it company.

Flora came into the bedroom. Mary’s arms were limp at her side, blonde hair
hanging down over her face. “Supper’s ready,” Flora said with a cheery smile.
“Stew with dumplings.”

Mary rolled her head along the back of the rocker to gaze at her mother. “It
smells good,” she said, a flat tone to her voice. She stood up. The quilt fell
to the floor. “Dougie was just here. He thinks I’m being mean to Henry.”

“Unfair is a better word,” Flora said.

Mary’s hand went to her stomach. “Mom, you more than anyone shouldn’t want me
to marry Henry under these circumstances.”

“Love,” Flora said softly, “we’ve talked about this. You know good and well
where I stand. Supper’s on the table.”

Mary folded the quilt and laid it at the foot of the bed. The hunger had fled,
replaced with an empty ache. At the bottom of the stairs, a wave of cramps
stabbed at her stomach. Sweat broke out on her brow and she fell to her knees,
her arms and legs heavier than barrels filled with oil. “Mom,” she tried to cry
out. Only a rush of air sounded. Another spasm of pain drove her into a fetal
position. “Mom,” she tried again, dragging herself down the hall.

Flora passed by the kitchen door. “Sweet Jesus,” she cried, and
rushed to her daughter.

Dougie jumped up from the table and ran after his mother.

“The pain’s some bad,” Mary gasped, both hands pressed to her stomach.

“Dr. Kennedy’s next door,” Dougie said, and bolted outside in his
slippers.

The cold air washed over Mary. She shivered.

Flora knelt next to her. “It’s all right, love,” she said, smoothing
sweat-soaked hair away from Mary’s forehead.

“The baby,” Mary cried. “The baby has to be all right.”

Henry came through the door. His eyes mirrored the fear on Mary’s face. Dr.
Kennedy came next, his coat open, a medical bag in one hand. “Goodness me,” he
said at the sight of Mary sprawled out like a sack of potatoes on the
floor.

“It’s my stomach,” she whispered through the pain.

“Henry,” the doctor said without looking at him. “Get Mary to the
chesterfield.”

Henry gently lifted her up. She cried out. “I’m sorry,” he murmured as he
carried her to the living room.

The doctor shed his coat before ordering everyone out.

Flora looked her daughter squarely in the eyes. “He needs to know
everything.”

Henry didn’t budge.

Flora took him by the arm. “Come along. Mary’s in good hands.”

Dr. Kennedy waited until they were alone to speak. “Dougie said something about
you collapsing with severe stomach pains.”

“Yes. It’s not so bad now.”

The doctor took her blood pressure and pulse. “Both a little
high, but nothing too serious. Now what was Flora talking about ?”

Mary sat up with the doctor’s assistance. She blushed and lowered her eyes.
“I... I’m in the family way.”

“I see,” the doctor said, as if the revelation was no surprise. He closed the
medical bag. “Has there been any spotting ?”

Mary shook her head.

“Good. Good.”

“Dr. Kennedy, this is the first time anything like this has happened. Will the
baby be all right ?”

“That, my dear, depends on you.”

Mary stared at him. “On me ?”

“Worry can kill even the most healthy among us.” Dr. Kennedy sat down beside
his patient. “To have a healthy baby you must eat right and give up worrying.
You’re whiter than a bleached sheet and I’d guess you’ve lost at least eight or
nine pounds.”

Mary’s bottom lip trembled. “It hasn’t been easy for me.”

“So that’s why the boy changed his mind about medical school.” The doctor
pulled on his ear. “His parents are awfully concerned about him.”

“Please,” Mary said. “I’m too tired to talk any more.”

“Eat something, then go straight to bed. If there’s any more cramping, call me
right away.” He gave a reassuring smile. “It isn’t the end of the world, Mary. I
can assure you that.”

THE NEXT MORNING
,
HENRY WENT
to check on Mary.
Dougie bounded up the sidewalk, the empty newspaper bag slung over his shoulder.
“Hi, Henry,” he said, jiggling coins in his pocket. “I got ten pennies in tips.”
He hopped up onto the front step. “Come on in. Mary should be up by now.”

“How is she ? I was some worried about her and the — ”

“I know about the baby,” Dougie said. “Mary didn’t touch a bite again last
night. Mom was in and out of her room half the night.” His voice took on a
lighter tone when he continued. “I was some glad to see her sound asleep when I
got up this morning.”

“She’s having a hard time of it,” Henry said.

Flora met them in the hall. “Dougie, your breakfast is ready.” She looked at
Henry. “Mary’s in bed. She had a bad night.”

Disappointment registered on Henry’s face. “I was hoping to see her.”

“Henry, tell me the God’s honest truth. Why do you want to marry my
daughter ?”