Mercy Among the Children (13 page)

Now, as Rudy sat before him, Mathew looked genuinely concerned.

“What is there to worry about? Didn’t I do as you asked?”

Rudy had never asked Mathew to do anything, let alone rob the house. But Rudy convinced himself it might have happened that way because the alternative was just too hard to accept — that Mathew respected him so little he would do whatever he wanted.

Rudy told Mathew that this was a terrible thing. And what he wanted more than anything else was to be reassured that Mathew, his partner, knew that this was a terrible thing.

“Look,” Mathew whispered, “I had to take care of Sydney when he was a kid — because he was always being smashed about, and I never got no credit for it neither, nor do I want none. That damn house he lives in, three rooms, no heat in the winter, and you couldn’t sit in it in the summer for the smell of human piss. It ain’t much better now — he still owes me money from the business, he cheated me, he lied about us.” He waited for this revelation to take effect. Then he continued in a soft whisper.

“And think of what will happen — she’ll just try to hang on to you — that’s the kind she is, Tabusintac bitch, and that’s not right, get rid of the both of them. Somewhere in the future is your money, so think — don’t let a bitch who’s not gettin’ it at home between you and your dreams. I won’t touch the
money — and when everything will have calmed down — later on — next summer when things with me and you are going better I’ll just slip the money back into the store — no one will be out anything. Whole thing will be forgot.”

“I don’t know,” Rudy said. “I feel bad — for the two of them — and their kids. I know how Autumn is laughed at — once I got angry at people for it.”

“Listen,” Mathew whispered, “Sydney is a troublemaker. Get that through yer head. I had to bail him out a dozen times and finally I just give up. You ask Connie Devlin. Pushed him off a roof fer god sake — the boy’s not got all his load — and here I have a retarded brother livin’ next to him — I almost cry to think of it.”

Then he got up and squeezed Rudy’s shoulder, and Rudy nodded and smiled.

As he spoke Mathew remembered his humiliation at not getting on the bridge when Sydney had. And as for Rudy —well, Rudy decided, as others sometimes had, that it was in his best interest to invest in a lie, a complete fabrication when it concerned my mother and father. He did not contemplate at that moment how large the lie would grow, or what dimension the monster would finally take, and who all it would swallow; nor that in the end others he did not know as anything but children would have to turn in the dark and combat this monster with courage he himself never needed to have.

But more important, he knew that my father was a greater man than Mathew Pit. Yet what he did now was say to himself: “Who am I to know who is a good man and who isn’t — in this day and age, with cocaine and all the rest?”

He thought of Sydney; how he, Rudy, believed him, just the morning before the assault on Elly, to be superior to him. And how he had used this notion of superiority to play havoc with his wife. He thought of Diedre Whyne, who, feeling herself
superior to Elly, had once spoken candidly about Elly needing her tubes tied.

Still hadn’t he himself profited from people’s opinions of Elly, from her beauty (since the intolerant nuns until now a mark against her) and her gentleness (considered from the days of the nuns to be stupidity)? Yes, hadn’t he profited from the liberal idea that she was not enlightened — and hadn’t this “energized” his feelings toward her?

Rudy had argued against Elly needing her tubes tied, and Ms. Whyne had put him in his place. But actually Ms. Whyne’s opinion allowed a licence when it came to my mother that was surreptitiously attached to the very fabric of Rudy’s disagreement with her. It became clear to any person willing to think it through that those who were trying to
help
her, as Ms. Whyne was, and those who would
use
her, as Rudy had, were essentially the same type of person; both felt superior to her, and felt their humanity not only superior but different in kind from hers.

He had not seen this until now.

He, Rudy Bellanger, had in effect cast Elly and Sydney away as thieves; and worse, both of them went away without a sound of protest. Worse, Elly admitted to the theft to protect her husband. Moreover, he saw how this lie against them was not considered important by Mathew Pit, who sat in the heat of the kitchen with his large red arms, and his tattoos visible.

Now Rudy, knowing everything, and understanding it all, was willing at that moment to let my parents suffer. Moreover, he could not take back what he had said, or confess what he had done. His father-in-law may have forgiven him before, but he would not now. Now every day that passed made it worse than the day before.

Therefore, though he thought it was only my mother and father, and by proxy their children, who had been cast out, by this casting out Rudy’s own Golgotha was now beginning. He
had to keep it away by whatever means he could, if not for himself, then for Gladys, whom he loved. Oh yes — that was the real tragedy — his love for her; even though he was bossed around by both her and her father, even though whenever Gladys got angry she would yelk “I will leave you without a cent, Frenchman!”

He still loved her.

He looked at Mathew. “You aren’t really going to sabotage the bridge?” Rudy asked, smiling.

“What do you think?” Mathew said, quietly.

“On my honour I’d have to tell,” Rudy said.

“On your honour — your honour? You know all those rumours about you — if one got back to yer wife — and her sick — why should I protect you?”

“I don’t want you to talk about Gladys like that.”

“Of course not,” Mathew said quickly, with feigned respect. “But think what will happen if the bridge is sabotaged — no more Porier. It will help you when it comes time for our —
your
— manna. Then you will hire me as your foreman — and I will do a better job than anyone. If the bridge goes they will have to point the finger at someone — Sydney, say — then we are really in the clear for ever and ever! No one would accuse you of anything after that! I don’t mean to get you scared — but just to let you know our bind is not over — not right yet. Before you came to me yesterday I didn’t consider doing the bridge a smart move. But now I see it is our only option. We got to do things now fast — set the snare — because already Sydney has gone up to the cops.”

“He has?”

“Well — think! For cripes sake — what would
you
have done if yer wife was accused?”

“I’d go to the cops.”

“There —” Mathew sniffed. “So now is the time to do something else —
to make sure
— that’s all I am attempting to do,
make sure — for
yer
sake, not mine! I never give a damn for myself. Set the snare now — set it now. Who is on the bridge all the time doing all the shit jobs? Sydney. Well, maybe he got tired of doing them — maybe he wanted to get back at Leo — I think that’s probably how it is! After the sabotage Leo has no one to turn to — Porier is fired — you come in, straighten this business out — what more could a person ask? You hire me as foreman as I say! All of a sudden Sydney goes to jail, and Elly begins to see you for who you
really
are —Gladys is still your wife — and she is a good woman — but look who you will have on the side.”

Rudy drank more water. He knew that if at any time until his life was over Mathew Pit found him disposable, the loyalty he believed he had built up would dissipate in a whiff of blue autumn sky. And he also knew this conversation was absolute proof of it. This in fact was what Mathew was telling him. Mathew’s talk was always underscored with
conditions
that made people as diverse as Rudy and the Sheppard brothers fear him. There was no mention of blackmail, but Rudy had put his trust in a man who had no real feelings toward him. And this was the story of Rudy’s life, because he was a weak man who allowed others to dictate to him what life should be. The bridge would be sabotaged to keep Rudy in line as much as anything. So who really was the snare being set for?

“I don’t care what happens to the bridge — but if it goes down, there will be hell to pay,” he said as gruffly as he could, hoping that this comment alone would be enough to dissuade Mathew.

“Oh, that’s what makes it fun,” Mathew said, his light blue eyes unnerving.

Rudy stood, put on his white down winter coat that gave his face the youthful appearance of a red-cheeked teenager, and headed for the door, with the salt-and-pepper hat on his
head. Lights shone out on the snowbanks and made everything warm, and from behind him there was the odour of gin, which Cynthia loved, and marijuana, on which Mathew planned to spend the five hundred dollars after Christmas.

Mathew followed him, begging him to stay (for he was worried about what Rudy might do or say), and at the last minute called for Cynthia. She came into the kitchen just in time.

“Rudy,” Cynthia said. She waved a tiny bag of cocaine.

Rudy sheepishly climbed the outdoor steps again, almost slip ping on the black ice. He pretended he was angry and had business on his mind, and did not want to see her. He pretended (as he had with my mother) that he was important but did not know he was important. He pretended that he could resist her. Yet in the light her legs were bare. She was wearing a pink nightie and smelled of bath oil. She looked hurt when he told her he wasn’t going to stay. But when she turned away, he lifted her nightie. Except for bikini panties she was naked underneath.

“Oh, you always do this,” she said, quickly running her tongue over her teeth, and pressing her body against his.

He tried to turn away, but her words made that impossible. Cynthia kissed him with her tongue, opened her eyes while his were still closed, glanced at her brother, and winked.

THIRTEEN

After Rudy went home Mathew left the old house. In the dark with its two pointed gables the house looked sinister, desolate as it was, and far away from town. The fire that my grandfather and later my father were blamed for had caused a black
veil of trees and uprooted stumps, and dark-watered ditches surrounded them.

People would pass this house on the way to other jurisdictions and other lives. Linguistic professors from the university in Fredericton would not know that Cynthia could do a crossword puzzle in ten minutes; nor computer analysts know that Mathew knew the size of every truck and car engine by the sound of a one-second rev of that engine. That did not matter to people passing by a house with junked cars and cannibalized engines in the back yard.

The world was fast moving on, and from these autumn skies Mathew and Cynthia saw the new information age staggering the previous ages into submission. Once or twice in their lives people from Mathew’s background would have a moment where they would prick the national consciousness; they would be interviewed and condescended to, with such gaiety of dismissal it wasn’t even registered by our more educated countrymen. Overall, men like Mathew were laughed at, ridiculed or feared most of their lives. If there was bigotry against First Nations they were accused of it (even though he had worked with First Nations men and women far more than those professors or writers who would accuse him). If there was intolerance they were accused, even though he had worked on roads and shared his bread with black men from Africville. Chauvinism they were accused of, even though he thought of Cynthia as his superior.

The world had gone on, and had been parcelled into manageable concerns; and this world left him and his sister out. Well, in some way it still allowed for his sister, for her gender demanded it. But he knew that now, at thirty-three years of age, time was falling away from him. If there was no money soon, he would have to go back on welfare. He hated and no longer wanted that. Just once he too would like to have people notice him. And Rudy was his key. He could do
the bridge not to positively influence Leo about Rudy, but to keep Rudy, whom he was sure would someday be wealthy, under his thumb. This was his intention, and Rudy had seen it in a second. But somewhere in his heart Mathew knew he was making a mistake.

He turned with purpose and crossed the road into the dark freezing autumn wood. He walked along a worn path — worn by children, and by himself and Sydney and Connie when they were children, and by their parents when they were children — and down a slope. In the black night where others would lose their way his direction was sure and his strides bold and purposeful. His arms and legs were thick, his back broad and strong.

He stopped. There was something walking up the path, in a sway-backed meandering way. As Mathew stood still watching it the bear moved, groggy with a year’s supply of fat for the winter. He waited for the bear, who had not seen him — for he had nowhere to run, and he wouldn’t turn his back on it. Just when the bear got close it stopped dead, sniffed the air, and at the same moment Mathew threw out his right hand and hit the bear on the snout with a crash. The bear bleated rushing into the trees, and Mathew lighted a cigarette and continued on. They were so poor in the mid-fifties his father would kill a bear each fall, grind the meat, boil the bones for stew and the fat for soap; this is what Mathew remembered of his childhood — the old house smelling of bear fat dripping into soap, and bear stew on his plate for supper. He had never feared a bear after that. He had, however, always feared his father.

Mathew turned into Connie Devlin’s lane at two o’clock in the morning after Leo had sent my mother and father from his house. He entered through the back door, by the small, well-kept kitchen, opening the lock with a Buck knife, and walked into Devlin’s bedroom and woke him up with a shove.

“You want to help me out of a scrape,” he said, “and get back at Sydney Henderson once and for all?”

Connie opened his eyes slowly, without fear, looked at his wristwatch, and rubbed his nose quickly. His face was beet red, like a baby having eaten jam, and he sat up.

“What kind of scrape —?”

“I want to knock the span down — it has to be replaced anyway. Sydney will get blamed — it won’t take too much starch out of it — just seven or eight feet — the place you guys are worried about. They have a abutment to keep things off it — I think driving the company half-ton ahead onto it should do the trick.”