Читать книгу Shadows On The River - Linda Hall - Страница 11

By Sunday, the magic of the snow had gone. It was now dirty and a nuisance and piled where it shouldn’t be, hindering the smooth flow of shopping and traffic. It was Sunday and we didn’t go to church. Funny that I thought about that fact on this morning. Sundays come and go in our house and I never consider church at all. I guess it was having Larry Fremont on the news. Or having Mark in my house the previous day. Or learning that Paul Ashton went to Mark’s church. Or even learning that Mark went to church in the first place.

I’d long ago spurned church when the one we attended had spurned my family. When all those long years ago they’d swept what had happened under the carpet, claiming I was the crazy one, that I had not seen what I knew I had. I never went back. The Fremont family were just too strong, too rich, too powerful. And our family wasn’t. We didn’t stay and fight. We left.

On this Sunday two things happened that changed everything for me. And by the time the day was over, I would realize that I should have listened to that uneasy voice the other night, the one that said nothing good will come your way, and that Larry Fremont is a murderer.

First, I was partially vindicated. The all-news station that I’d basically had on 24-7 since I first heard about Larry Fremont, came out with the truth. Paul Ashton had hit his head on the edge of the coffee table in the hotel room. They were looking into the possibility, still, that the fall may have been a result of a heart attack or brain aneurysm, but it was definitely a blow to the head that killed him. The hotel coffee table had been taken in for evidence. But I knew the truth. I was sure that Larry Fremont had hit him over the head with a blunt object and made it look as if he’d fallen into the coffee table. I would stake my life on this.

While I was watching it, the news cut away to Larry Fremont. I stopped and shushed Maddy, who was signing to me rapidly from where she was sitting on the couch. Larry Fremont saying how sad was this unfortunate accident and if the hotel was culpable in any way, they would get to the bottom of it. “Paul Ashton was a fine man,” Fremont was saying into the camera, “and I was proud to have him on my team, even if for such a short time, and to work with such an upstanding individual.” I’ll give Larry credit, he looked near tears.

The reporter added that foul play had not been ruled out. I sat and watched the whole thing without moving.

On the couch, Maddy was dressed and signing, “When are we going to get skates?”

“Soon,” I said. Fact was, I needed to get caught up with a few e-mails and do a bit of work first.

I went back to my computer and while I should’ve been working on the boat design, and particularly the rudder, which I was having trouble with, I was thinking about Larry Fremont and Paul Ashton. Money, of course. If Ashton was Fremont’s financial adviser, and a Christian at that, you can bet he found some discrepancies in the books. I knew I would be proved correct. It would just be a matter of time.

It occurred to me that I could ask Mark about this. He might know something. Truth was, after he told me he knew Ashton, I’d become wary. I don’t know why. Not many people knew about the Larry Fremont episode of my life. Even my parents don’t even know the entire thing. Jolene does. I’d told her the whole thing back when we were in high school.

It’d taken me a while to open up to her. I had arrived at the high school on Prince Edward Island, a sad, scared girl from a little town in Nova Scotia, hurt and grieving and afraid of getting close to anyone. Jolene introduced me to sailing. Her family had a couple of little sunfish sailboats that we used to take out onto the Northumberland Strait in the summer. It was on one of these trips that I had told her my story, swearing her to secrecy.

I grew to love sailing. Gliding fast through the fierce waves was the only time I felt alive. I was in my own world out there, and when I could control nothing else in my life, I could control my boat.

I opened a few online newspaper articles, but couldn’t find anything additional on Paul Ashton’s death. By all accounts, he looked to have tripped on the edge of the hotel carpet and hit his head on the coffee table. I needed to dig deeper.

Because I didn’t want to risk losing this information, I printed what I found. I ended up with quite a little stack beside my computer.

I got so engrossed in this work that for several seconds I didn’t notice Maddy standing there beside me. Finally she tugged on my sleeve. “Mom, when are we going to get skates?”

“Just a few more minutes,” I signed. “And then we’ll go. And we’ll even stop for ice cream on the way home. Would you like that?”

She signed “yummy” by rubbing her tummy and smacking her lips—a family sign.

“I like Mark,” Maddy signed to me suddenly.

I looked at her. What brought that on?

“Really?” I said.

“He’s nice,” she signed.

“I’m glad you think so,” I said.

“It was fun yesterday,” she added, and I agreed. What was happening to me? I couldn’t afford to fall for a guy like Mark.

We were getting ready to leave when the phone rang and the second life-changing event happened.

It was Rod. He sounded breathless. But more than that, he was angry. And the always even-tempered Rod I know doesn’t get angry.

“Ally. Ally. You sitting down?”

“Yes, Rod, Rod,” I said repeating his name the way he had repeated mine. “I am sitting here at my computer.”

A pause.

And then suddenly I was concerned. “Rod,” I said. “What’s wrong?” Was something wrong with Jolene? Had something gone wrong with the pregnancy? They had been trying for so long. “Is everything okay?”

“Ally, brace yourself. We lost the project.”

“What?” At first I thought he said baby, that they had lost the baby. It took me a moment to realize that the word he had said was project.

“The project. We lost it,” he said.

“What are you talking about?”

“With Maine Boatbuilding. They gave it to someone else, get this, a bigger firm in California. California! How convenient is that? They wanted a firm with more resources.” He sputtered out the last word.

I gripped the phone with both hands. Maddy was beside me on the floor, playing with two of her toy ponies.

“Rod?” I said. “How could this happen? We already gave them the general design. Didn’t they say it was ours?”

“Yes, they did. They gave me every indication.”

“I don’t understand.” I put my hand to my head, looked away from my blue-eyed daughter who was tugging at my sleeve.

“They found a firm with more people, their bid came in under ours. I’ve been on the phone for the past hour.”

“You found this out today? On a Sunday?”

“I called Lew. At home. I was sick and tired of them not answering our calls. We should have heard a week ago. Two weeks ago, even. I thought, he’s got to be home on Sunday morning. So I called him. I said, ‘You owe us, Lew, what’s going on? Why haven’t we heard?’ And that’s when he told me.”

“I absolutely can’t believe it, Rod. We’ve done work for them before. Plus, we even hired Mark.”

“I know. And they always liked our work. Lew did say they loved your design,” he added. His voice trailed off and I knew what he was thinking. The project was major. It would have put us into the big leagues. Not to mention it would have paid a few bills.

“The whole thing stinks,” he said.

“We have no recourse?”

“They were pretty firm on it.”

“We should protest. Maybe we have a case.” I put my hand to my head because suddenly all I could think about was the fact that I had not seen a cent of child support since early fall.

“There’s nothing we can do about it. We can’t sue. We have no legal grounds. The bids were fair and square and Maritime Nautical just lost out. That’s the way it would play out with a lawyer.”

I sighed. “Great.” The two of us didn’t say anything for a while.

“Ally, I know this affects you, but I’ve been thinking about you. I’d like you back on board. I’d like the three of us to be Maritime Nautical again.”

“But you don’t have enough work.”

“I’ve been checking on a lot of stuff. There are a bunch of contracts we can bid on.”

I asked, “What about Mark?”

“We’ll have to let him go. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to stay, not with his credentials and talent.”

Why did the thought of not seeing Mark on a regular basis fill me with such sadness? I still could not quite believe it.

“Maybe we should meet this afternoon. I’d like to talk to Mark face-to-face. Jolene and I could come there, or you could come here.”

I said, “Why don’t you come over here? With Maddy, it would be easier for me.”

Rod said, “That’s what I figured. I’ll call Mark. See if he’s available.”

I felt my chest collapse. Finally I said, “He was just here yesterday. We went over plans for the interior.”

“Swell,” he said drily.

“How’s Jolene taking it?”

“I haven’t told her yet.”

“What do you mean you haven’t told her?”

“She’s out looking at baby furniture with her mother.”

“This doubly stinks,” I said.

“Ally?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.”

And when we hung up, Maddy came to me and I told her that we couldn’t go shopping for a while. I signed, “I have a very important meeting this afternoon here at the house. Rod and Jolene are coming over. And Mark, too.” And because we didn’t have an agreed-upon family sign for his name, I finger spelled it for her.

Immediately she grinned and placed the thumb and forefinger of each hand together at eye level, indicating that he wore glasses. She screwed up her mouth in the way that he smiled. Forever on, this would be our sign for him.

And then she paused, seemed to think and signed quickly, “It’s okay, we can get skates tomorrow.”

“Come here, pumpkin pie.” She did. And as I held my daughter, smelled the little-girl smell of her hair, I wondered how I was going to tell her that there would probably not be any new skates for a while.

When I backed away from her, I signed. “Maybe tomorrow we can go and have a look at Value Village for some skates.”

She immediately dropped her hands to her sides and stared at me. Then, frowning, she signed rapidly, “But you said new skates. New skates. New skates. New skates.” She kept repeating this last part, her fingers becoming wilder, stiffer with each repetition.

“I know, pumpkin pie, but sometimes things happen. And Value Village has good stuff. We go there a lot.”

She regarded me for a while without saying anything.

“A bad thing happened with my work,” I tried to explain.

“I know,” she signed without looking at me. “I heard you on the phone.”

I stared at her. Sometimes I’m astounded at how astute she is. She’s learned a fair bit of lip reading, plus she’s always been able to pick up on my moods.

“It’s not fair,” she said.

“I know,” I said. But by now my little daughter had shut her eyes tightly, turned her head away fiercely. When I tapped her shoulder, she held this pose. When I reached for her and stroked her hair, she jerked away.

Several times before my guests arrived, I went up to Maddy’s room, but as soon as she saw me enter, she would shut her eyes and scrunch up her face.

Downstairs, I cleaned up our lunch dishes and loaded the dishwasher. I got out the coffeepot. Maybe people would like coffee. Why did it ever occur to me that things would work in my favor? Why did I even bother trying?

I thought about Maritime Nautical and wondered if it was time to quit trying to survive on this freelance stuff and get a real job, like with a corporation, or a big company. I’ve got both a BA and an MA in Naval Architecture and Ocean Engineering and I could be making a lot more money somewhere else. People with my kind of degrees are pulling in six figures at huge boat-building companies.

I slumped into my couch and got out the Halifax Chronicle and scanned the want ads. Not finding anything of interest in the Chronicle, I got up. Tomorrow I’d try to find a Saturday Globe and Mail. There are always more job ads in that paper. But there was one good reason why I wasn’t farther in my career, and that was Maddy. And for one awful minute I resented her. She was upstairs not speaking to me because I couldn’t afford new skates for her, and she was the reason I couldn’t make more money.

But that awful moment passed in an instant.

Just before Rod and Jolene were due to arrive I went up to her room one last time. She looked up from her ponies this time and signed, “Can I go to Miranda’s today?” Her mood seemed somewhat improved.

“I can’t drive you,” I said. “I have a meeting. And I don’t know if it’s okay with Miranda’s mother.”

“Can you phone her?”

I got on the floor and sat beside her. “How about if I call her when I go downstairs and see if Miranda would like to come over tomorrow. I’ll pick you guys up after school,” I said.

“Okay.”

I ran my fingers through her strawberry curls, untangling them. I signed, “What would you and Miranda like to do tomorrow?”

“Get new skates.”

“I don’t know about that.” But maybe I would rethink it. What was forty more dollars on my credit card?

I hugged her tightly for a few minutes before I went downstairs to call Miranda’s mother, Katie.

“I’ll pick her up,” I offered, after making the girls’ playdate.

“Great. Miranda will love that. Hey, did you get the notice about the deaf luncheon next month? It’s a fund-raiser.”

“Maybe. I think it came across my e-mail.” I closed my eyes. I may have deleted it.

Katie said, “But you’ve got that new job, right? So, you probably won’t be able to be involved? We’d love to have you come. How’s the job going?”

“Well, actually…” I paused, caught my breath. “Maybe I’ll come. Mark us down.”

Katie and I were friends. Our daughters were the same age and both deaf. They had been placed in the same regular classroom, where a full-time interpreter worked with them throughout the day. Katie was an extremely energetic woman who worked hard to help her daughter succeed. We had a lot in common, yet nothing in common. Katie didn’t work. She didn’t have to. Her husband’s job provided all the money they needed and then some. Katie devoted her life to the deaf community, making sure that Miranda had the best possible care and opportunities.

I was grateful to Katie for all the work she did on behalf of the deaf community. Sometimes I felt I didn’t have the time, strength or money to advocate for my daughter’s care the way Katie did. There are times when I feel so overwhelmed.

Katie and her husband also had another child, a hearing girl who was four. Plus, they went to church. I’m not sure which one. When they would ask me if Maddy could attend with them, I always said no, even though Maddy sometimes begged to go and they had a full-time sign-language interpreter on staff.

They never pressed. I was grateful for that. Katie knew nothing about where I came from and what had happened to me, and why I was so adamantly against church. She probably figured I’d been raised like most of the people my age, in a secular family. It would probably surprise her to know I knew a few Sunday School songs. They popped into my thoughts at the oddest moments, as did prayers.

Rod and Jolene arrived ten minutes later. Jolene hugged me. She was looking more and more radiant. The fringed ends of a skinny, shimmery scarf wound many times around her neck, draped down across her round belly. She also wore a set of long silver chandelier earrings. I asked, “And how are we feeling?”

“Both of us are healthy and happy and waiting for this little girl to show her face. Only a couple more weeks.”

I said, “Wow! I can’t believe it’s so soon.” I paused. “I thought you were shopping with your mother today.”

“Rod called me on my cell. He told me everything on the way over.” She smiled widely and said, “All I can say is this is probably a blessing in disguise.”

“How can you say that?”

“You guys’ll do just great. Rod is talented and, Ally, you’re so brilliant. You have nothing to worry about. My husband, Mr. Perfection, will have no trouble getting more contracts. There’s already a bunch of stuff we’re working on bids for.”

“But this one was so big.”

“Don’t give it another thought.”

I’ve always thought it strange that this glass-is-half-full person married someone like Rod, whose glass is usually half-empty. But I guess between them they end up with a full glass, so it works. Rod spread out sheets filled with numbers and figures on my dining-room table, while Jolene leaned against the wall and talked with me about baby furniture.

Some might say Jolene’s nose is a bit too long and too pinched—aquiline, she calls it—and her lips too thin to be attractive by today’s standards. Yet Jolene has an individuality. Her black plastic rectangular glasses only add to her look.

“But this was our chance at the big leagues,” I said.

“You guys are already in the big leagues, especially you, Ally. What I want to know is how is the Maddy?”

“She’s upstairs, barely speaking to me.”

“No, I mean, your boat design, the Maddy.”

“Oh,” I said, “I get to it every now and then.” Named for my daughter, the Maddy was the name I’d given to my design.

“Maybe this is what you and Rod should be working on. That’s what I vote for and speaking of the other Maddy, would she mind if I went up and said hello?”

“She likes you. Maybe you can get her out of her mood.”

After she left, Rod tapped the papers with his pen. “The problem is that we made the mistake of putting all our eggs in one basket.”

He was about to say something more when the doorbell rang. My heart skipped a little beat. Mark had arrived. Self-consciously I checked my reflection in the hall mirror before I answered it. Hair a mess as usual. And why hadn’t I at least put on a bit of makeup? And what was I thinking with this old sweatshirt? And why was I thinking about Mark in this way, anyway? As soon as Rod told him the news, he’d be gone and on to another job. A thought struck me as I opened the door: I should show him my Maddy boat design. I quashed that idea just as soon as I answered the door and he smiled down at me.

“Come in,” I said. “Rod and Jolene are here already.”

His eyes lingered on mine for a moment. “Must be a serious meeting,” he said.

“Let me take your coat.” He shrugged out of his green jacket. As I hung it up I noted the fraying around the collar. He probably needed this job as much as I did.

Mark hadn’t even had a chance to sit down before Rod broke the news. “The project’s been pulled out from under us. That’s the reason for this meeting.”

Mark stopped in his tracks. “Wow, how’d that happen?”

“Stupidity,” Rod said. “On my part. I should have been more aware. It was my fault for hiring too fast and too soon, for hiring both of you before it was in the bag.” Rod placed both hands flat on the table. Mark and I sat down next to each other and across from him. I was conscious of how close Mark was to me.

“Jolene and I have the money to keep both you and Mark for a couple of weeks if you want,” Rod said. “There are a couple of other projects we’re bidding on. I don’t want to be unfair about this. You’ve done a lot of work already and I want to make sure you’re fairly compensated.”

Mark tapped his long fingers on the table. He took off his glasses, folded them shut and placed them on the table. I heard a thump from upstairs, wondered if I should run up there and check on Maddy, decided not to when I heard no more. Jolene was up there. Jolene could take care of it.

Mark said, “To say I’m not disappointed would be a lie. I’ve really enjoyed working with Ally on this.” He seemed to move a little closer to me when he said this. I felt a heat rise in my face. He went on, “But, I’ve been in this business long enough to know how things work. And how sometimes they don’t work the way we plan.” Quietly, he added, “I know God will have something else for me….”

I was very still as I looked at a spot on the table. I flicked at it with a fingernail. His casual reference to God unnerved me. I’m impressed with people who refer to God in casual conversation, like a friend. Even when I did go to church regularly, God was never someone who looked out for the little things in life. Mark had stopped talking and was staring at the stack of computer printouts about Larry Fremont and Paul Ashton that I had placed beside my computer. Right on top was an article about Ashton’s death with a full color picture of the man. I could kick myself for leaving these things right out there in the open.

Rod started in about future bids and direction while Mark stared at my printouts. His eyes were still on them when he said, “I could always go back to Florida. There might be work for me there…back at the marina.”

I listened as Rod talked about future projects, about future ideas and directions. I could barely concentrate. More than anything I wanted to grab that stack of papers from beside my computer and shove it deep within the confines of my garbage can.

When we were finished I asked if anyone would like coffee. I’d made some.

“Not me,” Jolene said emerging from the hallway and holding Maddy’s hand. “But if you have any herbal tea, I’d kiss your little ears.”

She signed as she spoke, and Maddy burst out laughing. Jolene’s hair was held back, I noticed, by one of Maddy’s pink butterfly barrettes. The three of us females went into the kitchen.

Jolene maneuvered herself into one of my kitchen chairs and we chatted about how she was feeling, signing at the same time so Maddy could be part of the conversation. When I first started studying American sign language, Jolene joined me. She’s now fairly fluent and says she’s planning to teach her own baby to sign before she even speaks.

Jolene was also with me when I first understood that Maddy was deaf. My baby didn’t turn to loud noises. I would stand to one side of her and clap my hands and she wouldn’t turn or flinch. I would stand behind her and call her name. Nothing.

I’d sit on my couch and rock back and forth and hope I had it wrong. Maybe it was something simple. But I knew the worst one day while visiting Rod and Jolene and we were outside in the backyard. A truck rumbled by. Just as it neared the house it backfired. The sound was loud and excruciating. All of us jumped. Maddy sat in her high chair and grinned.

Jolene went with me the next day when I took her to the doctor and then the audiologist who confirmed my suspicion. She was profoundly deaf, cause unknown.

I knew absolutely nothing about deafness then or caring for a deaf child. I barely knew that there was a sign language. Through the years I’ve learned enough to fill a bookshelf. And I have. I have many books on deafness. I have pamphlets and printouts from the Internet, information on the deaf culture, signing, and hundreds of government leaflets and pamphlets on everything from implants to hearing aids to deaf literacy. Amassing this information, learning everything I can, meeting and talking with many deaf people has been, practically, my full-time job since Maddy was born.

My own career took a back seat.

By the time we went back to the dining room with mugs of coffee on a tray, Rod was hunched into his laptop, furiously clacking at the keys, and Mark had actually picked up the sheaf of papers I’d printed and was leafing through them. He raised his eyebrows at me when I came in.

I put the tray on the table and Mark asked me if he could see my boat design. I said, maybe. He carefully put the printouts back beside my computer aligning the edges and stacking them precisely. He patted the stack as a final gesture.

I stirred in milk and sugar and said, “Did you guys find anything?”

Rod said, “We’ve been surfing the Web for possible projects.”

Jolene said, “I think you should work on the Maddy.”

“The what?” Mark said.

“Oh, it’s nothing,” I said.

“It’s not nothing,” Jolene said. “It’s Ally’s idea for a slick, one-person racing sailboat.”

His eyes brightened. “Really? I’d like to see that.”

“Maybe sometime. It’s not ready. Have some coffee.”

While we drank our coffee and Maddy played with her ponies on the floor, Mark tried to get me to talk about my design. Just like the previous day, when the meeting naturally came to an end, Mark didn’t rise to leave first.

I handed Mark his coat, and said that I guessed the meeting hadn’t been all that bad and how I was happy to get to work together for a little bit longer.

“I would like to continue working with you,” he said.

“Well, yes, it’s been fun.”

He paused, took a breath and said quietly, “May I ask why you printed out all those news articles on Paul? If you don’t want to answer, you don’t have to. If I’m prying, that is.”

“I was interested in the story.”

“You always print off random articles?” He paused. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t pry.”

“No, uh. It’s okay.” I paused. “Maybe you should know, especially because you knew Paul Ashton. Larry Fremont and I grew up in the same town.”

His eyes widened.

“So, um, naturally, I was curious. His mother owned the mine that employed ninety percent of the people in our town.”

“Did your father work in the mine?” His eyes were hooded when he looked at me and I couldn’t read his expression. Did I imagine it or did his eyes take on an intensity that wasn’t there before? Imperceptibly, I backed away slightly from him, but then I realized what it was. He knew Paul Ashton and Paul Ashton had died. No wonder he seemed intense, sad today. Anyone would, given those circumstances.

I shook my head, looked away from his piercing glance. “My father is a pharmacist. Fremont sent most of his business our way, so yes, I guess you could say that we, too, were employed by the Fremonts. My family moved to PEI when the mine closed.” I tried to keep the nervousness out of my voice, but his eyes were frightening me. To change the subject I quickly asked, “How are the Ashtons today?”