Grave Concern, page 21
Outside of this small victory, however, life had lost its pizzazz. Kate’s weekly jazz dance class had grown stale, prompting her to quit. Finding her duties as secretary of the student council — a position she had fought for with a rather good speech to the assembled school — rather dull, she handed them over without ado to Nancy O’Brien, the girl who had disabused Kate in Grade 6 of her belief in auto-impregnation. Several friends Kate had known all her life, hurt by her lacklustre attitude, drifted beyond reach.
Nicholas kept sporadic contact, but with characteristic good manners, waited nearly a year before asking her to their final year Valentine’s dance. Kate said no. And there — ah, there was the rub. Numbskull that she was, Kate said no to the dance. No, when she should have said yes.
The next day, July second, was the appointed date of Adele’s visit to Nathan’s grave. Kate was to pick her up at Morning Manor at ten, drive her back to the graveyard, and afterward take her into Pine Rapids for lunch, whereupon Adele would be returned to the mournful Manor in time for something called “ghoulish dinner” at five o’clock.
“Goulash?” Kate said. “Mmmm. I love goulash.”
“No dear, ghoulish,” Adele corrected. Ghoulish dinner, it turned out, was Adele’s droll term for the house chef’s Tuesday menu consisting of skinless breast of chicken, mashed potatoes, and cauliflower, topped off with vanilla ice cream for dessert. In an email, Adele had kindly requested they go to the most “colourful” place Kate could think of for lunch. “Something green, orange or red, crunchy and vitamin-friendly would not go amiss,” she wrote.
Kate found herself looking forward to the day’s arrangements — a long outing accompanied by good conversation was always a pick-me-up. She hardly dared hope other widows and widowers might request this sort of treatment; as it was, few besides Adele had sought even the most basic of Grave Concern’s services. “Driving Miss Daisy” wasn’t on Kate’s official services list. But, depending on how the day went, Kate thought perhaps she would add it. She would have to charge for gas, of course, but as long as pickup was no more than forty minutes away, she could manage. Not only manage; enjoy. Tendering occasional grave visits might even give her an edge on the competition.
At five to ten, Kate pulled into a parking stall at Morning Manor. At three minutes to the hour, Kate handed the receptionist a stack of Grave Concern business cards. By five past, her walker folded and stowed in the trunk, Adele was tucked into the passenger seat and chatting amiably about the weather.
With no more to be said on that subject, Adele turned to Kate and said, “Kate Smithers. You’re Molly’s daughter, yes?”
“Yes, that’s right,” said Kate. “You remember me?”
“Oh yes, I remember you, dear. Right from when you were a baby, you always had the most beautiful eyes.”
“Well, thank you. You knew me as a baby?”
“Oh yes, dear. Your mother and I go — went — way back. She was a few years younger than I, but oh yes, we worked together for a couple of years.”
“I never knew she worked! She never said. I always thought she went straight from school into marriage. But she never spoke about that time much.”
“Yes, your mother and I worked side by side for the Bell Telephones, down here at the exchange.” Adele nodded her head in such a way as to suggest the exchange still stood just down the road. “We were what they called ‘operators.’ ”
Kate smiled. Did Adele really think Kate young enough to not know what an operator was? “Operators! My mother?”
“Yes, here in town. In Valleyview. You know, this town was a kind of hub in those days. Logging, the whole timber trade. Well, you know. I’m sure they taught you all about it in school. And it was still going on to some extent even when you were young, Kate. Men worked in the lumbering, and the women, well, any with a job, they worked at the telephone exchange. It was a going concern, all right. We covered a large area, up and down the valley, and east and west, too. This road we’re on now was the main highway, before they built the bypass.”
Adele talked on, filling in details of the time, but Kate listened only vaguely. She was stunned. As far as she knew, her mother had come straight from Toronto to Pine Rapids after school. She had met Kate’s father, gotten married, had Kate — end of story. Of course! A large chunk of her mother’s life was missing. How had Kate been so blind?
She thought back. As a child, she had heard things in reference to her parents—“May/December,” for instance. She hadn’t understood the metaphor, but the words had sounded nice. Fresh, like the changing seasons. “Back door romance” was another phrase she’d overheard. Again, incomprehensible, but glamorous, or so she’d thought. “One lucky girl” Kate had understood, and heartily agreed with. Young Kate had indeed considered herself lucky.
Now, forty-some years on, it occurred to Kate that the “lucky girl” subject of hearsay had been not Kate herself but her mother, Molly. An eccentric idea, but there it was, shot through Kate’s dull, middle-aged head like a joke shop fake plastic arrow you couldn’t resist trying on.
Dazed with probing depths she had no way of reaching, Kate simply repeated her earlier response. “I never knew.”
“These Bell Telephone positions were advertised far and wide,” Adele went on. “Work was hard to come by then, oh, especially for a woman. The war was over, women losing jobs right and left. You took what you could get.”
Kate mumbled something vaguely assenting.
“It was an exciting prospect for a young lady just out of high school, coming out here. I came up from Toronto, too, you see; well, it would have been three or four years before your mother. But, despite the difference in ages (it seemed important then), your mother and I, we hit it off right away. City girls, I suppose, on a country adventure.”
It all made sense. What didn’t make sense was the old narrative written in Kate’s head. Why indeed would Molly have come to Pine Rapids in the first place? There was nothing in particular to draw her.
“Mrs. Niedmeyer, how did you end up in Pine Rapids as opposed to Valleyview?”
“Nathan, pure and simple. We met here in Valleyview. He came in once in a while to fix problems with the switchboard — ”
“Glitches,” Kate said.
“Yeah, switches glitches, I guess you could say — ”
They both laughed, and Kate made a mental note: Google Extraordinary Wayne. Why hadn’t she thought of it till now?
“So anyway, he soon took a job up there in Pine Rapids at the power station. The hydro dam, oh, that was big news in those days. People came from miles around to see it. Tourists, I mean, not just the workers. He started out on construction, but Nathan, well, he was kind of a jack of all trades. And he learned quickly. When construction was over, they kept him on to help run the place. He was there for forty years. Well, much like your dad. So, anyway, Nathan was there, and I was here. We went back and forth on weekends, visiting.”
“I always thought Mom met Dad in Pine Rapids.”
“She did. On a blind date. Nathan and I set it up!”
Kate tried to get her head around this.
“It was Nathan’s idea, really. Called me up at work — that was easy, me being an operator! Said there was an engineer up there at the power station, nice fellow but kind of quiet, a lone wolf, a few years older than us. Nathan asked if I had a friend I could bring up for the weekend. We could do some double dates. Things were different in those days, Kate. People didn’t just fall into bed together like they do now. Oh, may I call you Kate?”
“What else would you call me?”
“Good. So back to my story. So, the next time I went up there, I took Molly along. She was always game for an adventure. We stayed, as I always did, at the old King’s Hotel. Now, I know what you’re thinking, but back in those days, the King’s was still respectable, a real hotel where people stayed when they travelled. So handy, right there along the highway. Nothing fancy, but clean and well kept. A real country inn. I’ll always remember the little lace curtains in the windows. Mrs. Payer, that was the owner’s wife, she always kept it up nice. The rooms were simple … checked bedspreads and hand-carved wooden bed frames. The windows were tiny, like a doll house. Oh my, yes — a dear little place, really. It would be years yet before it began to deteriorate. Oh dear, I am running on. What was it you asked me?”
“How you came to Pine Rapids.”
“Have I answered?”
“More or less.”
“Good. These days I get going somewhere and can’t find my way back to where I started!”
Adele began to laugh hard enough Kate thought she might actually hear bones rattle. Kate felt a strong urge to put her arms around Adele. Instead, she leaned forward and hugged the steering wheel, wiggling her shoulders as though to stretch out her back.
“Oh dear, I think I’m causing trouble, asking you to drive so far,” Adele said.
“No, not at all,” Kate assured her. “It’s so great to get away from routine, you have no idea.”
“Well, it won’t be long now,” said Adele, and they spoke no more until the Impala lumbered into the graveyard.
Kate had brought an enormous bouquet for Adele to lay on Nathan’s grave, and this Adele did while Kate wandered about the cemetery, leaving Adele with her walker to commune with a husband of fifty-three years. Kate was proud of the job she had done to prepare the grave, having polished it up and weeded just a couple of days before. She was brushing some pine needles from her own parents’ gravestone when Adele came puffing up with all the verve her ninety-two year old muscles could muster. The walker remained with Nathan.
Adele looked like a kid with a popsicle. “Look what I found!” She held up a large, perfectly formed, jet-black feather.
“It’s beautiful,” Kate grinned.
“Yes, beautiful,” said Adele. “And right at the foot of the grave! I think it’s a sign, don’t you? No, don’t say anything. That’s how I’m going to take it — a sign. That’s how Nathan was, you know. Very special that way. I was very lucky to have Nathan. Very lucky.”
Adele wobbled severely, and Kate grabbed her arm.
“Thank you, dear. I’m a little overexcited, I suppose. Would you mind, Kate, fetching my walker?”
Kate steadied Adele against the Smithers stone, and went to retrieve the walker. As she hurried down the row, something two rows over caught her eye. A bouquet in neutral tones, topped off with a stunning yellow rose. Where did anyone find such perfection around here? Not wanting to leave Adele too long precariously balanced, Kate resisted veering from her course to check it out. But on her way back with the walker, Kate did slow down for a better look. The grave marked the last resting place of one ORVILLE REID, DIED 1965. She happened to know that no Reid family members had come anywhere near town for years. And the reason Kate knew that is because one Susannah Reid, Q.C., of Oakville, Ontario, had been for many months a client of Grave Concern.
That yellow rose, so stunningly real-looking, down to the single brown-tipped petal, was not real at all, but silk. The Gupta family bouquet. She’d bet her business on it. Someone else obviously had. And she was pretty sure who.
Back with Adele, Kate filed the discovery in her “Krebs Crap” mental file and tried to focus on the job at hand. She steadied the walker while the old woman sat down on the little seat. The two of them lingered, lost in their separate worlds, by Dean and Molly’s grave.
“Donne,” said Adele, out of the blue.
“You’ve had enough?” asked Kate, a little surprised, but perhaps Adele was tired. “You want to go?”
“No, no, dear. ‘Death, be not proud.’ That’s Donne, isn’t it? Or was it — ”
“Oh! No, that’s right. John Donne. One of my favourites.”
“Yes, I rather liked the bit we read at school. As I recall. But these days, I don’t recall much!” Adele gave a girlish giggle.
Kate smiled. “He had a lot to say on the subject of death. I always liked that, for some reason.”
“As you get closer to it, you might not like it so much.”
When Adele said that, Kate felt a rush of love. She put an arm around Adele’s shoulder and squeezed.
“You’re absolutely right,” Kate said. “I’m getting more nervous every day.”
“Ha!” said Adele. “But don’t let it keep you from living, dear, like your — ”
She cut herself off, but Kate knew what Adele had been about to say. Like your mother. So it wasn’t just Kate’s perception; others had seen it.
“Never mind, dear,” Adele said, and nodded at the grave. “Such a tragedy … the pair of them so young.”
“With all due respect, I guess young’s relative when you’re ninety-two,” Kate said.
“Ninety-three!”
“You had a birthday recently?”
Adele nodded. “Just a week ago. Hard to believe you still have birthdays at my age, but you do! What was I saying? Yes, I was devastated when the accident — well, we all were. Your mother was a fine woman.”
Kate nodded in remembrance. But something, the birthday, had caught her attention. A June birthday, just ahead of Canada’s. Which brought Kate back to Canada Day. Which brought her back to Extraordinary Wayne.
“Mrs. Niedmeyer,” she said, “have you ever gone to the Canada Day celebrations up at the Roadhouse Museum?”
“Well, that’s a change of subject if I ever heard one,” said Adele.
“Yes, I’m sorry. There is a kind of logic to it, if you want me to explain.”
“Don’t bother, dear. I’m sure it makes perfect sense. Unfortunately, the answer is no. Or, if I did, I don’t remember a thing about it. Why?”
“Have you ever heard of a travelling act called Extraordinary Wayne and His Exotics? A guy with snakes and exotic animals. Goes around to fairs and such.”
“No. I haven’t heard of that. Though I used to love fairs when I was young. Oh my, circuses and fairs. They were such a thrill for us back then. Bearded ladies and two-headed cats. Dwarves and giants and performing bears. Of course, now that’s all gone the way of the dodo. Not, uh, what do they call it — correct? No, that’s not it.”
“Politically correct, I think you mean.”
“Yes, that’s it. Politically correct. Well, I suppose they’re right.”
Suddenly, Adele turned and gestured toward the SMITHERS grave. “A fine pair, the both of them,” she said.
As she spoke, Kate noticed deep shadows settling over the old woman’s eyes. Good grief, the poor thing was probably exhausted. “What about lunch?” said Kate, turning Adele back toward the car. With a rhythm borne of long practice, Adele moved herself and the walker steadily through the grass. She had tucked the black feather behind her ear.
They went to The Beanery. As they sat down, the cappuccino machine made a deafening whoosh, and Kate wondered if this had been such a good idea. Adele seemed to have no trouble with her hearing, but you never knew. Perhaps things would be different with background noise.
Kate found herself more eager to please than ever. “Is this all right?” she asked nervously. “Is there too much din? We could go somewhere else.”
“Where, dear? Has something new come to town?”
“Well, no.”
Adele leaned forward and spoke right through the next pressurized rush. “You know, Kate, it’s just a relief being out of that place. Morning Manor. What an awful name. You’d think we were all dead already. No, dear, things are a little too quiet there. And when there is something shaking, it’s generally leaning toward the hereafter, if you get my drift.”
Something shaking. Kate laughed and got up from her chair. She went to the counter and ordered deli sandwiches full of lettuce and sprouts and cucumber and tomatoes, and poured two mugs of the usually dependable house coffee.
“Hi there,” said a mellifluous voice. Leonard had come up beside Kate while she was preoccupied.
“Mr. Lanh Leonard Ho Lam,” Kate smiled, her face growing suddenly warm. “How are you doing this fine day?”
“Lonely,” he replied, shaking his head in mock-dejection, filling his coffee mug. “No beeuty-ful lady wanting DVD today.”
“Okay, okay, cut the crap,” Kate laughed. “What’s up?”
“Not much. Haven’t seen you since Rosie did her business on E6.”
They laughed, recalling Mary’s shock and awe.
“How’s the bike working out for ya?” Kate asked.
“Good, good,” said Leonard. “I could bring it around for a visit.”
Kate nodded a vague yes, then explained that though it might not look like it, she was actually working. She nodded towards Adele.
Leonard nodded in response and headed for the door. “See you soon, I hope,” he said.
“Take care,” Kate said, and suddenly realized she meant it. Really meant it. When the door closed behind him, Kate felt a nip of sadness such as she hadn’t felt in years.
Kate handed Adele her coffee mug and resisted a strong urge to steady the mug hanging tremulously in Adele’s less-than-robust grasp.
“Who was that nice-looking young man you were speaking to?” Adele asked.
Kate had to smile at the word “young.” To Adele she and Leonard must seem like kids. Especially Leonard. Which, for her own reasons, did worry Kate a bit.
“That was Leonard, you know, the Ho Lam Video kid. All grown up.” Having actually spoken his name aloud, Kate was duly notified by her stomach’s doing a little flip.
