Amazing Grace (8 page)

At the hospital they tell me I had a miscarriage.

“I was pregnant?” I ask the nurse.

“Yes, but you lost the baby.”

All sound goes away except the ringing in my ears. I had my own little baby and I lost it? It's gone? I had Mama, and Maria, and Buddy, and my baby, and I lost them all?

I left my baby on the floor at school. I'm evil. God doesn't want me to have anything.

I don't remember crawling out on the ledge of the hospital's fifth-storey window, but I almost get to fly away before someone grabs my ankle and drags me back inside.

The psychiatric facility where I live for six months is no different from anywhere else. It's a constant struggle to get me to eat something and most of the time the adults are impatient with me, even though they try to be nice.

One morning as I stare at the ceiling a woman comes in my room. She looks like a social worker of some kind. They all have the same look; like they know everything. No doubt she's here to tell me something that means nothing.

“How are you, Grace?”

I gave up telling people I'm really Amazing a long time ago.

“I have some news.”

Close your eyes and she'll go away.

“We found your grandmother's family.”

“No, you didn't.”

She doesn't correct me or get huffy. She sits in the chair by the bed and opens her folder. There are a lot of papers in it, official-looking documents.

“Why don't I show you what I have here and you can decide for yourself if what I'm saying sounds like the truth?”

When I don't say anything, she proceeds.

“Your name is Amazing Grace Fairchild. Your mother's name is Trixie Fairchild. Your grandmother's name is Rose Fairchild and your grandmother's sisters are named Pearl and Mae Fairchild. Pearl and Mae still live in a place called Marble Mountain in Cape Breton.”

“My grandmother came from Nova Scotia.”

“Cape Breton is a part of Nova Scotia.”

“I don't believe you.”

“That's okay.”

“Not that it's true, but how did you find them?”

“A lot of hard work.”

“If you know who these people are, why can't you find my mother or sister?”

“We're trying, but so far not much luck. We hope this is a start.”

My heart beats a little faster, which annoys me. Don't feel anything. It's probably all lies. “So, who cares about them? What am I supposed to do with this? You find two old women who don't know me and I'm supposed to be grateful?”

She takes out a letter. “They sent this to me. It's for you.”

When I keep my hands where they are, she places the letter on my bedside table. “I'll be back.”

The letter is staring at me. It won't leave me alone. Everywhere I turn, it shows up in my line of vision. It's sticking its tongue out at me. I dare you, Amazing. I dare you to open me.

So I shout at it, “No! Go away!”

It doesn't. It's breathing on my side table, but I'm not fooled. I won't be sucked into another hole that leads to nowhere. It stays there all night, glowing in the dark, calling to me.

When morning comes, nothing's changed. It's there and so am I. The trouble is, my head is about to explode and my brains will be dripping down the walls. Who needs to see that?

I open the envelope and take out the letter. The handwriting is thin and spidery. How am I supposed to read this?

Dear Amazing Grace,

Trust your mother to come
up with a name like that. She always was a handful. But regardless, kin is kin. Your grandmother Rose died years ago. I think she died of a broken heart, what with the worry over your mother, Trixie, but Mae says I need to be more charitable. So officially she died of complications from diabetes, but I have my doubts.

Rose was a change of life baby, much younger than Mae and I. Since both of us are spinsters, we felt it was our duty to take Rose in when her good-for-nothing husband left her with a baby to look after. That baby was your mother and I'm surprised I'm not deaf from all the hollering that went on here. Rose was too soft and Trixie was a hippy-dippy from the time she could talk, so I'm not surprised to hear that she abandoned you. They tell me your sister, Ave Maria (absolute nonsense) is gone too. You people have a terrible habit of losing track of one another.

Despite all that, Mae and I are Christian women, and as such, we cannot abandon you to the mercy of strangers, now that we know you exist. They tell us you've been bounced around from foster home to foster home. No doubt you have some terrible habits and no table manners, but kin is kin.

We would like to offer you a home with us. We don't have much and the house is old, but we have good neighbours who help us from time to time. As long as you promise not to be a hippy-dippy, I suppose we'll muddle through.

Yours truly,

Pearl Fairchild

I put the letter back in the envelope and tuck it under my pillow. She sounds like an old goat. Imagine saying stuff like that about my mother and grandmother? Who does she think she is?

The social worker knocks on my door the next day.

“So what do you think? Would you like to go home when you're released?”

“Yes.”

I've never been on a plane before. The thought of taking off into the air and flying seems very romantic, but only if you've never been on a plane. The first thing I do is throw up into the little bag. Then I lock myself in the toilet and my insides run out. Eventually someone knocks on the door and asks me to hurry up. I want to die.

It's bumpy from the time we take off to the time we land in Sydney. No one speaks to me, no one looks at me. That's the way I like it. My hair is hanging in my face, I have on a brown wool poncho and old bell-bottom jeans. My wooden Dr. Scholl's sandals click against the floor. Everything I own is in my crocheted shoulder bag.

As soon as I walk through the airport door, I get out of the way of the people coming behind me and stand to the side. I'll close my eyes so that if no one is here to pick me up, I can say I must have missed them. The time ticks by. I knew it.

“Amazing Grace?”

A tall, thin old woman in a coat down to her ankles purses her lips at me.

A short, fat old woman with a similar coat smiles at me and sings, “How sweet the sound…”

“Mae, for crying out loud. You're in an airport. Can we presume you are Amazing Grace?”

“Of course she is, Pearl,” Mae beams. “She looks just like Trixie.”

“Hardly. I see her good-for-nothing grandfather around her eyes. Don't you?”

“Gracious, no. How are you, dear? It's so wonderful to meet you. I'm your great-aunt Mae and this bag of hot air is my sister Pearl. You can call us aunts. It's easier.”

I stand stiffly as Aunt Mae tries to put her arms around me, but they're too short; she pats my shoulder instead.

“It's polite to say hello,” Aunt Pearl points out. “Has no one taught you manners? I can see we have our work cut out for us, Mae.”

“Don't be so foolish. I'm sure Amazing Grace is a simply wonderful child. Aren't you, dear?”

There she goes again with that “dear.” I should reward her with something.

“Yes.”

Aunt Mae claps her hands together. “What did I tell you, Pearl? She's wonderful.”

Aunt Pearl grunts. “Do you have a suitcase?”

“No.”

“Land sakes! They send you down here with not a stitch of anything? People in Ontario think they're God's gift to humanity, but it's obvious they're lacking in brains. Who throws a child on a plane with nothing? Remind me never to go there.”

They scurry me out to the car, obviously their pride and joy. Mae tells me it's a 1955 two-toned blue and cream Pontiac, with chrome detail. I settle into the biggest back seat I've ever been in. My aunts talk over one another from the front seat—not that I can see Aunt Mae's head, but she bobs to the side every now and again.

“We have to leave right away,” Aunt Pearl says. “I don't like driving in the dark.”

Aunt Mae's gloved hand appears with something wrapped in tinfoil. “We thought you might be hungry.”

I take it and then she passes me a thermos.

“Say thank you!” Aunt Pearl glares at me in the rear-view mirror.

“Thanks.”

Aunt Mae pats her sister on the shoulder. “Let's not start with the rules just yet. Amazing has had a long day.”

Aunt Pearl shakes her head. “I have no idea what's going to happen when she goes to school. That Turner kid from up the road will eat her for breakfast.”

The fat egg sandwich with moist homemade bread hits the spot. I drink all the milk, too.

They talk back and forth to each other, but I slide over to the window and look at the scenery. It's very pretty here, with the green grass and blue water. Where are all the people?

It's been a long day and it's an even longer ride to get to their house. They live in the woods, with only a winding hilly road breaking up the trees and water. The sun is starting to set by the time Aunt Pearl puts her blinker on and pulls into a dirt driveway.

At first it seems creepy; the trees make me feel like I'm going to be swallowed whole. But there's an outside light shining above the red front door and the swing on the front porch looks inviting.

Even though it's August, the air is cool as the sun goes down. Once I'm out of the car, my arms are full of goosebumps and my toes are cold.

Aunt Pearl notices my feet as she searches for the key to unlock the door. “Are those the only shoes you own? You won't get far in those once December hits.”

Aunt Mae puts her hand on my arm. “Then it's a good thing we have lots of time to get you new shoes before the snow flies.”

They mutter and putter while putting away their coats and purses and insist on taking my poncho to hang on the hooks in the inside hall. When the door opens into the living room, with its rose wallpaper and rose-covered chairs, it's hard to know where to look first. There is absolutely no room for another knick-knack whatsoever. I've never been in a house so full of stuff. They insist I sit in front of the fire while they attend to supper. The flames in the fireplace make me think of the burning barn. I wonder where Helen is now. I wonder if my mother and Maria ever came back to look for me.

My eyes keep closing in this heat, but Aunt Pearl's strident, “Supper's ready!” jolts me to attention. I join them in the kitchen. There's a pine table already set with dishes in the middle of the room and my aunts in their full-length aprons standing by it.

“Sit down, my dear.” Aunt Mae pulls out my chair, so I sit in it.

Aunt Pearl zooms over with a plate of fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans, carrots, peas, and gravy. “Eat up. You're too pale.”

They join me at the table, the two of them in their pearls. I get why Aunt Pearl wears pearls, but Aunt Mae seems to love them too. She has three strands that cuddle into the folds of her neck.

“Let's say grace.” Aunt Mae bows her head and folds her hands together. “Thank you, oh Lord, for these thy gifts we are about to receive, and thank you for bringing Amazing Grace back home to us. Amen.”

I pick up the chicken with my fingers and their eyes get huge. I put it down.

“Fork and knife. Always fork and knife,” Aunt Pearl instructs. She stabs the air a few times. So I pick up my utensils and cut into the chicken. I have to say, it tastes better than when I rip it off the bone with my teeth.

Aunt Pearl clears her throat. “Your napkin goes on your lap, not tucked into your collar.”

Here's me trying to impress them. I pull the napkin out and drop it on my lap. This woman is going to be a pain fairly soon.

“Let the child eat,” Aunt Mae smiles. “What sorts of things do you like to do, Amazing?”

Aunt Pearl's hands go up. “I'm sorry, but I'm not calling this child Amazing. I don't care if that is your given name, it grates on my nerves every time someone says it. Your name is also Grace. A very lovely name, as it happens. It belonged to our grandmother, and I wish you would do us the courtesy of using it while you are in this house. It's not much to ask, is it?”

“I have a great-grandmother?”

“Of course you do, child! Grace would be your great-great grandmother. Where do you think you came from? The cabbage patch? Your great-grandmother's name was Mehitable, which we all agree was regrettable.”

Aunt Mae grins at me. “Pearl pretends she doesn't have a sense of humour, but she does.”

At that moment a fat black and white cat waddles into the kitchen and sits beside me. He looks up with a sweet face and meows at me.

Tears pour out of my eyes and onto my plate. They are springing out, gushing out, and I have no idea how to stop them. My arms are limp by my sides as I howl. My two great-aunts sit with their mouths open, completely speechless, which I have to say is probably a rare state for them. My nose starts to run, I have saliva running out of my mouth. I am a crying machine that is stuck on the freak-out setting. It's all too much.

Eventually, the crying slows and I'm just a hot red mess with a snotty face. I'm still whimpering but the shock is over for my dinner companions. Aunt Pearl gets up and grabs a whole lot of tissues and rubs the residue off my face. Aunt Mae comes behind her with a damp, cool tea towel and holds it against my burning cheeks.

“There, there, sweetheart. You're here with us. You're safe now.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

NOW

Melissa is grinning at me. “So it all worked out in the end.”

“No.”

Her face falls. “What do you mean? You can't possibly still be in trouble. I think you're making this up.”

“Is your life that simple? Is anyone's?”

“You're safe. You have two old ladies cooking for you. There's no man lurking in the bushes anymore.”

“I was a train wreck who smashed into the world of two elderly ladies who wore gloves to drive the car. It wasn't easy for any of us.”

I have to move, and so I get up to stretch my legs. “Let's go for a walk.”

“Do I have to?”

“No.”

“I'll stay here then.”

“Okay, but you'll miss the best part of the story.” I bundle up in my outer gear and leave the house. Before I'm down to the apple trees, she's running after me. She's out of breath when she catches up.

“You can't just leave me here.”

“How often do you go for a walk at home?”

She puts her hands on her hips. “Why? Are you going to tell me I'm too fat?”

“Why on earth would I tell you you're fat?” I keep walking and she follows along.

“I don't wear a size zero.”

I tip my head back and look up at the grey skies. We're going to get rain before the day is out. “I don't think I'd survive if I went to high school now.”

We walk through the soggy leaves down by the water. I point to the big rock further along the beach. “I used to sit there when I was your age. It was my refuge. Where do you go when things get tough?”

Melissa wipes her nose with the back of her coat sleeve. “Nowhere. My room, I guess.”

“But how can you shut everyone out when they're attached to you day and night by an electronic umbilical cord? When do you just sit in silence?”

She picks up a rock and throws it in the water.

“You don't strike me as the sort of girl who would want to have naked pictures of herself posted online.”

“You don't know me very well then, do you?” She grabs a whole handful of rocks and throws them into the lake. “If you're going to bug me about it, I'll go back to the house. I don't need a lecture.”

“Okay. Let's keep walking and I'll tell you the next chapter of the story.”