Читать книгу 47 Sorrows - Janet Kellough - Страница 8

The dead body on the beach at Wellington was a nine days’ wonder. The Quakers offered a plot in the corner of their burying ground and Thaddeus, Francis Renwell, and the two men who had helped carry the corpse home turned up to help with the digging. If what Dr. Keough had surmised was true, and the man was one of the emigrants from Ireland, Thaddeus thought it most likely that the man was Catholic, and wondered aloud if they were doing the right thing in interring him in a Friends’ cemetery. But Thaddeus’s employer, Archibald McFaul, himself an Irish Catholic, pointed out that he could just as easily be an Irish Protestant, or not even Irish at all, but one of the many Scottish crofters who were also fleeing the dreadful conditions that the lack of potatoes in their homeland was causing.

“I think Quaker is a good compromise,” McFaul said. “The Society is more or less acceptable to almost everybody. At least they don’t seem to be outright offensive. And besides, they offered.”

In any event, it was unlikely that anyone would ever know who the drowned man was, or why he had been dressed in women’s clothing, so the chances of some relative objecting to the manner of his burial was remote.

Martha and the other children, with the resilience of youth, had seemed to recover from the shock of finding the body, and after the burial everyone settled into the routine of their days, the summer winds gusting from the lake.

Thaddeus luxuriated in this welcome breeze as he walked along Wellington’s main street. The warm, fresh air was always such a lift to the spirits after the long grey days of winter, when the overheated rooms of his small house behind the Temperance Hotel seemed to close in around him. It was true that he had to be out and about every day in the course of his duties as secretary of sorts to Archibald McFaul, and he was thankful for the distraction these provided, but nothing could compare to the sense of freedom he had had while riding from village to village as a circuit riding preacher for the Methodist Episcopal Church.

Of course that was a thought that belonged to a summer day. When the blustering gales of February howled around his ears, his aging joints liked nothing better than to have him sitting by a fire. Still, the travelling life called to him now and again, though he knew those days were over.

It was noon, and he was just reaching the front steps of the hotel when he heard a shout behind him. He turned and squinted in the direction of the voice. The man moving down the street seemed very familiar, but he couldn’t quite place him. And then something in the way the figure moved jangled recognition loose. It was his son Luke.

It had been five years since he had sent his youngest child off west. When he left, Luke had still been a boy, gangling and unsure. The person who approached him now was a man, still rail-thin to be sure, but his shoulders had filled out and he walked with an assured air.

Thaddeus stuck his head inside the hotel’s front door.

“Martha! Run and get your grandmother,” he shouted, and then he walked back to meet his son.

Luke’s face split into a grin as he reached his father. Then Thaddeus folded him into a bear hug before pushing him away at arm’s length to inspect him.

“You look well,” he said. “You’ve filled out and grown an inch or two. You must be as tall as your brothers now.”

“I’m taller than Will. I still haven’t quite caught up to Moses.”

Luke turned as the door opened and Betsy came out on to the verandah. Thaddeus noticed that his son’s posture suddenly stiffened as he saw his mother. Time and illness had worn Betsy down and she no longer resembled the woman who Luke probably remembered. She hesitated on the step, peering, unsure of why she had been summoned. Then, when she saw Luke and realized who he was, she sat down on the step and burst into tears.

Luke hurried over and sat down beside her. He put his arm around her. “Well that’s quite a welcome for a long-lost son,” he said. “I thought you’d be happy to see me.”

“Don’t tease,” she said. “It’s just such a shock. I thought never to see you again.” And then she flung her arms around his neck, still sobbing with emotion. Luke let her sob, a bemused expression on his face.

They might have sat there forever, Thaddeus thought, if Francis hadn’t appeared at the door. “Sophie’s put the kettle on,” he said. “I’m assuming you’d like this gentleman to come in and sit down?”

Luke stood, and then helped his mother rise, holding her arm carefully as she mounted the steps. She swatted at him. “I know I’m old, but I’m not entirely decrepit yet,” she said. “You don’t have to treat me like I’m porcelain.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Luke replied meekly, and Thaddeus laughed. Their son dwarfed his mother, but it was obvious that she still held the whip hand.

She led the way to the kitchen, motioned for Luke to sit down, and hurriedly set a cup of tea in front of him. Then she hobbled over to the stove where Sophie was dishing up the noon dinner. It was Saturday and they currently had eight guests staying over the weekend and another couple who had arrived just for a meal, but they had long since established an efficient routine. Thaddeus, helped by Francis and Martha, scurried back and forth to the dining room, while Betsy helped Sophie with the last-minute sauces and garnishes. That left Luke alone at the table,

and Thaddeus could see that he was wide-eyed at the bustle around him.

The flow of the traffic changed as leftovers were brought back to the kitchen, used plates taken to the sink room, and dessert delivered to the tables. Thaddeus was the first to sit down beside Luke. He helped himself to a cup from the teapot in front of him.

“We’ll have our dinner when the others are done,” he said.

“Is it always like this?” Luke asked.

“Like what?”

“Are mealtimes always this hectic?”

“Oh, this? This is nothing.”

“I must admit, I never thought to see my father wait at table.”

Betsy joined them. “Oh, he’s got quite good at it, hasn’t he?”

Just then an older woman hobbled in from the sink room.

“Well, hello to you, young sir,” she said.

“Eliza, this is my youngest son, Luke. Luke, this is Eliza Carr, Sophie’s mother. And, of course, Sophie is the genius over there by the stove.”

Sophie turned then and smiled at her mother, displaying two extraordinary dimples. Her glance took in Luke as well, a friendly welcome for unexpected family.

“It’s actually Mrs. Carr who has bought the hotel, although Francis and Sophie run it,” Betsy explained. “It’s nice that we’ve all been able to more or less throw in together.”

“Uncle Daniel has gone back to farming then?” Luke asked. It had been Daniel and his wife Susannah who had owned the hotel when the Lewises had moved to Wellington.

“Oh yes. Daniel decided that he wasn’t cut out to be an innkeeper, and I think Susannah was quite relieved, since so much of the work seemed to fall to her. Sophie’s a natural though, and it was fortunate that Mrs. Carr came into money just when Daniel wanted to get out. It allowed Francis and Sophie to marry, and it’s provided a home for us all.”

The dining room service had been completed, and now Francis and Martha returned to the kitchen and plunked themselves down close to Luke. Everyone had a question for him, and each was asked before Luke had time to provide an answer to the last.

“Wait, wait, wait, one at a time,” Thaddeus ordered, and then promptly jumped in first with his own comment: “Why didn’t you let us know you were coming? It’s a wonder your mother didn’t expire on the spot with the shock of it.”

“I wasn’t sure when I was going to get here,” Luke replied. “I stayed to help Moses until after the spring planting, and of course that always depends on the weather. By the time I realized it was time to go, it was too late to write. The letter would have arrived long after I did. Besides, don’t you like surprises?”

“Tell me about the children,” Betsy demanded. “They must be nearly grown by now.” It was a constant source of grief to her that she had no chance to see her other grandchildren.

“They’re noisy,” Luke said. “And mischievous.”

“And how is farming in the west? Is it as good as they say?” Thaddeus asked.

“Better,” Luke replied, “once you get the land cleared. The chopping is hard, but the wheat practically jumps out of the ground once it’s sown. Wheat and potash, those have been the cash crops.”

“Who are you?” Ten-year-old Martha finally found an opportunity to break into the conversation.

“This is your Uncle Luke,” Thaddeus replied. “We’ve told you about your uncles who went west. Now this one, at least, has come back home. Do you remember him?”

She didn’t. She had been too small when they left. “Hello,” she said. “I’m Martha.”

“I know,” Luke said. “I figured you had to be, but I wouldn’t have recognized you. I remember you being very small, but now you’re all grown up.”

Martha beamed. “You look like Grandpa.”

“He does, doesn’t he?” Betsy said. “He’s a tall, dark stranger.”

Sophie began dishing up the family meal, setting heaping bowls of early potatoes and snap beans in front of them, followed by a platter of fried chicken and a basket of crusty bread. Finally, when all of the food was on the table, she took her place beside Francis and waited expectantly for Thaddeus to say grace.

Luke was caught reaching for the platter of chicken. “I almost forgot,” he said, pulling his hand back. “So many of my meals have been eaten in a hurry and standing up. I’m afraid grace is a nicety that has tended to slip away back in the bush.”

“I believe it’s a necessity, not a nicety,” Thaddeus said. But he said it mildly. The mellowing effect of hard years had made him less inclined to judgment. And the boy had only just returned, after all. He said a few simple words of thanks, and then they all dove into the food.

“You haven’t actually met Sophie, have you, Luke?” Francis asked as he began passing the bowl of potatoes around the table. “Sophie, this is the youngest brat in the original pack. Luke, this is Sophie, who for some reason consented to be my wife. We’re still trying to figure out why.”

Martha was indignant. “Because she loves you, that’s why!” and they all laughed.

There was a hiatus in the conversation as everyone ate, which gave Thaddeus a chance to reflect on how much had changed in the years Luke had been gone. Francis with Sophie, instead of with Luke’s sister, Sarah, who had perished at the hands of a killer. He himself no longer riding the ministerial circuits, but toiling at a hotel and assisting in the business of one of Wellington’s important men. But the change that was the most profound, he realized, was his wife’s physical condition. She was so frail. She had never fully recovered from the dreadful bout of fever she suffered so many years ago, but on her good days she had still been capable of a day’s work that would exhaust a man. That would be the Betsy who Luke remembered, not the Betsy who had been prematurely aged by the apoplexy that had brought them to Temperance House, and which required a constant attendance from Thaddeus that had put paid to his preaching days.

Martha was the first to finish her dinner. She set her knife and spoon neatly across her plate. There was still dessert to come, but with the others still eating, she could now take control of the conversation.

“We found a monster down by the lake,” she announced.

Luke looked surprised that this statement was apparently directed at him. “A monster? What sort of monster? You mean like a fish?”

“No, at first we thought it was a whale, or a dragon, but it turned out to be a man dressed like a woman, only drownded.”

Luke turned to his father for verification of this astounding revelation.

“A dead body is hardly a topic for mealtime conversation,” Thaddeus said.

“But why was it dressed like a woman?” Luke asked, and Martha shot him a grateful glance.

“We don’t know,” Thaddeus said. “But I’m not surprised the children mistook it for a monster. A drowned person is not a pretty thing. It was only after the doctor had a look at it that we realized that the dress was so misleading. Everyone thinks it must be one of the emigrants, and that he fell off a steamer.”

“No one’s come looking for him?”

“No. I suppose with so many of them arriving in such a hurry, it’s not surprising that a few might go missing.”

“I’ve been commissioned to look for one of them myself,” Luke said. “There are settlements of Irish and Scots both, not too far from us. One of them asked me to keep an eye out for his brother, but it’s unlikely I’ll be very successful. There seem to be hordes of them.”

“Poor souls,” Thaddeus said. “I hear that half of them are sick and all of them are starving. I don’t know that they’re going to be able to find a better life here.”

“I came across some of them on the road. They were hoping for farm work, but now that the tariff is lifted on wheat, I don’t know anyone who can afford to hire them.”

“Typical, isn’t it?” Francis said. “Just when Britain has decided to destroy farming in Canada, they round up all their paupers and send them over with the expectation that they can farm.”

The British prime minister, Sir Robert Peel, had changed the Corn Laws, as they were known, although “corn” in England apparently meant any kind of grain, and not just the yellow, husked ears that grew so readily in Canada. The tariffs that had been in place had given Canadian wheat preferential treatment in the British markets. Now this advantage had been wiped away with a stroke of the pen, forcing Canadian farmers to compete directly with the Americans, who produced far larger crops and enjoyed a much longer growing season.

“Everyone is wondering where we’re going to sell our wheat,” Luke said. “There’s a lot of uncertainty about what’s going to happen. Wheat is one of the few things that ever made money.”

“It does seem very odd to me that Britain is rewarding the colony that rebelled while the one that has stayed loyal is being penalized,” Thaddeus said.

“Kind of like the Prodigal Son, isn’t it?” Luke said.

Thaddeus was about to retort, when he realized, for once, that he was being teased by one of his offspring.

“It’s almost as if Britain is aiding and abetting their sabre-rattling,” he grumbled. The United States was embroiled in a territorial war with the newly independent Mexico, insisting on America’s right to expand westward to the ocean.

“Enough politics,” Betsy said. “Tell us more about the children.”

And with the arrival of the bread pudding, the conversation turned again to family.

Thaddeus could tell that Betsy was worn out, what with the excitement of Luke’s arrival and the bustle of dinnertime. He knew he should shoo her off for her afternoon nap, but he also knew that it would be a waste of words — there was little likelihood that she would relinquish her lost lamb so readily.

Francis and Mrs. Carr rose from the table and busied themselves in the sink room, while Sophie was already organizing supper. Martha, bored by the conversation about people she had never met, ran outside to find her cohort of playmates.

“Let’s finish the teapot and take our cups out to the porch,” Thaddeus suggested. “It’s a fine place to sit on a hot afternoon.”

The Temperance Hotel had a wide verandah, and in the summertime the cool breeze that blew in from Lake Ontario wafted through it. The porch had been furnished with painted wooden chairs and rockers for the use of the guests, but it was here that Thaddeus spent most of his time when he wasn’t wanted elsewhere. I’m getting so old, he thought. Here I am sitting on the porch watching the world pass me by.

They settled in one corner, well away from a cluster of patrons who had chosen to laze away the afternoon. Luke made a great show of stirring his tea while his parents waited expectantly.

“I don’t bite, you know,” Thaddeus said. “You can spit out whatever’s on your mind.”

“Is it a girl?” his mother asked. “Are you planning to get married?”

Luke blushed furiously before he answered. “No, it’s nothing like that.” And then when his mother’s face fell, he added, “I just haven’t met anyone, that’s all.”

“Plenty of time for that, Betsy,” Thaddeus said. “After all, he’s a young man yet, and needs to settle before he can think of taking a wife.”

“I thought I was getting settled,” Luke said. “But now that I’m here, I’m wondering if my efforts might be better spent in a different manner.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what you have in mind, and then I’ll give you my opinion of it.”

Luke nodded. “I think I want to go into medicine. I think I’ve saved enough money to take at least the first year of courses.”

Thaddeus chuckled. “Luke the Physician? Apparently we named you well.”

Luke smiled. “I’d actually thought of that, you know.”

“A doctor?” Betsy said. “That would be wonderful!”

“After five years in Huron, I’ve decided that I’m just not cut out to be a farmer,” Luke went on. “It seems to me it’s just the same thing year in, year out, and you’re always at the mercy of the weather or the markets or the insects or something. But after a while, I did find that I liked looking after the livestock — you know, dealing with their injuries and diseases. I was having quite a lot of success, too. Eventually the neighbours noticed and began calling me when they had an animal that was doing poorly. After a while they started calling about themselves as well. There aren’t a lot of doctors along the Huron Road, and the settlements are so scattered, you see. I’d do what I could for them, but it was starting to make me nervous.”

“I can see that,” Thaddeus said. “After all, it’s one thing if you lose a cow. Quite another if you lose a person.”

“Exactly. I just don’t know enough — I haven’t had much experience with surgery, for example — and there are so many advances in medicine now, I’d like to know more about them. It seems to me that it’s a profession where I’ll never stop learning.”

Thaddeus knew about this thirst for knowledge. He had had it all his life.

“They say a wise man is one who knows he doesn’t know.”

“Then I must be the wisest man on earth,” Luke said.

“This all sounds wonderful,” Betsy said, “but why are you talking about changing your plans now that you’re here?”

“Because now I’m wondering if I’ve just been thinking of myself, and not you. I didn’t realize how sick you’ve been, Ma. Maybe I should be looking to my responsibilities. I know you don’t have to worry about Martha anymore, now that Francis is back, but I don’t think the rest of us can expect him to take care of you as well. It’s not really his place, after all.”

Thaddeus felt a surge of pride in this boy who would stop to consider his aging parents, but at the same time had no intention of letting his dreams fall apart on their account. He was about to say so, when Betsy replied.

“You will not!” she said. “Your father and I are fine. We’ve long since sorted out our arrangements here, and everyone, including Francis, is perfectly happy with them. Don’t you give us another thought.”

Thaddeus seconded her opinion. “I know Francis is really only a son-in-law, but he feels as much a son to me as you are. We sorted out our differences a while back and, in fact, we owe each other a great deal.”

Luke looked puzzled. After his sister had died, the name Francis Renwell had been enough to send his father into a rage. Lewis had never liked the man who had married his daughter, and, in fact, had held him responsible for her death.

“I was very wrong about Francis,” Thaddeus admitted. “He was rash and headstrong — just like your sister — but he was in no way responsible for what happened to her. I’ve come to realize that he’s a fine man, and now that he’s married Sophie, he’s settled down a great deal. And,” he added, “I’ve mellowed some too. I’m not so quick to make judgments as I once was. Be that as it may, your mother is right. We’re happy enough here. You go ahead. It sounds like a reasonable plan to me.”

The relief on Luke’s face was evident.

“So, where do you think you might go for the training?” Thaddeus asked.

“McGill has the best reputation. Besides, King’s College is still too much under the sway of the Church of England. I was raised a Methodist, after all. I’m not sure I could stomach any leftover Anglican cant.”

The old enmity between supporters of the Church of England and every other religion was slowly melting away now that the two Canadian colonies, Upper and Lower, had been refashioned as the Province of Canada, but the secularization of its institutions was not yet complete. McGill University in Montreal had had a School of Medicine for a number of years, Thaddeus knew, whereas the university in Toronto had only just established its program.

“I know you always hoped that at least one of your sons would follow in your footsteps,” Luke went on. “I’m sorry. I’m afraid it won’t be me.”

Thaddeus thought of the long years he had spent riding from settlement to settlement through snow and rain and cold and heat, and of the responsibilities he had shouldered onto his wife while he was away — responsibilities that had worn her down before her time. Of the poverty that even now plagued them. He had done it to save souls. Was it so different to want to save bodies? Luke and he were more alike than the boy knew.

“I’d say you’ve made an excellent choice,” he said. “And don’t you worry about us — we’re snug enough here.”