Relative Happiness (3 page)

The house was encircled by rose bushes, which looked pretty scraggly without their rosy finery. A small crooked white fence surrounded the place. A wicker rocking chair sat on the front porch. It was quaint and cosy and yes, as if to complement the fence, sort of crooked.

“Home sweet home.”

They got out of the van and trooped up the front steps. Lexie rooted through her purse for the keys.

“I really must get a smaller bag.”

“Or a bigger key.”

She finally found it and opened the door. She went in ahead of him and tossed her head to the left. “You can put your things on this chair.”

“On this chair? The one with a mile-high stack of books?”

She looked down. “Oh dear. Just throw everything on the floor and I'll clear it off in a minute. In the meantime, make yourself at home.”

As she hurried into the kitchen, she heard him say, “This is the most fabulous house. It's so full of stuff.”

Lexie grinned and hollered over her shoulder. “You mean it's a pig sty.”

“No. That's not what I mean at all. It's just so snug. Although how you haven't managed to burn it down is beyond me.”

“If you're referring to my candle collection, it's an art.”

The living room looked like a student's dorm, filled as it was with flags and posters. An easel held a large colourful canvas, while paintbrushes sat in murky jars of water on the table beside it. There were coffee cups and wine glasses and empty wine bottles with even more candles stuffed inside them, beautiful hooked rugs and walls of books. Books were piled up here and there, and magazines were strewn on the floor. A quilting frame in the corner by the window held a quilt half done.

The focal point in the room was the fireplace, its mantle crammed with candles, pictures and beach wood, seashells and sand dollars. Pillows were strewn in front of it, just waiting for someone to make themselves comfortable.

Lexie opened the fridge to see what she could rustle up for supper and that's when she heard him yell, “Oh my God!”

She ran down the hall and poked her head in the living room. “What is it?”

He pointed to a chair in the darkest corner. “I was about to ask you the same thing.”

“Hey, don't insult Sophie. She's my only child.” She hurried over to reassure her thirty-pound baby.

“Is it a dog?”

“You, sir, will be thrown out on your ear if you keep insulting my cat.”

“A
cat
? Are you sure of that? I've seen smaller ponies.”

She carried the enormous angora fur bag into the kitchen, murmuring as she went. “Mama's going to give her precious her supper. Yes she is.”

Adrian followed her. “I don't think that creature needs to be fed until this time next year.”

Lexie pouted. “Who asked you?”

During their first supper together, Lexie realized two things. Adrian was starved for food and starved for company. She doled out left over beef stew with dumplings and served it with corn bread. His eyes lit up.

Then she passed him apple strudel and old cheese for dessert. He polished his plate. Unsure if he was still hungry, she produced a tin of homemade chocolate chip cookies, just to be on the safe side. He wolfed half of them with his tea.

He certainly talked. He talked endlessly about everything and while he was very entertaining, it wasn't until an hour into their meal that she realized he'd said nothing about himself.

“So,” she finally asked. “How did you happen to wander into the Savoy Theatre?”

“I'd heard of it in my travels around the island. I wanted to see it for myself. And now that I have I can tell you everyone was right. It's a beautiful venue. A credit to your town.”

“But why come to Cape Breton in the first place?”

“A friend once mentioned you had a beautiful coastline and I wanted to see it.” He looked down at his plate. “I don't think I want to leave here.”

She watched his face. “Well, someone would miss you if you stayed, surely?”

He didn't answer right away. “My life is my own. I come and go. I always have.”

She risked being nosy. “Where is home for you now?”

“My parents are in New York City at the moment. I was with them for awhile when I came back from Tanzania. But I couldn't breathe there. It's too big, too busy.”

Lexie was aware that his speech slowed down with every question, as if the answers were heavy.

“What was your job, in Tanzania, if you don't mind me asking?”

“I took languages in university, since I had a smattering of everything growing up. I was a translator.”

“Very cool. Who did you translate for?”

“UNESCO, humanitarian groups, places like that.”

“Wow. That must be rewarding work. Why did they need you?”

He looked away. “Refugees.”

He said no more.

She knew when to stop. She poured more tea into their cups and began to fill the silence.

“I haven't done a thing. I've led a very shallow and uncharitable life, compared to yours.”

“I'm sure that's not true.”

Lexie stirred milk into her mug. “As it happens, it is. I grew up here with three sisters. I'm the biggest. Oldest, I mean, and the most boring. Beth is hard to describe. A law unto herself. She's married with kids. Gabby's a flight attendant. Her claim to fame is her stunning beauty…more's the pity…and baby Kate has the brains in the family. She's a professor in Halifax.”

Looking at the ceiling, she tried to think of something else to tell him. “I went to university to get a library science degree because I love books.”

She leaned towards him. “Remember when you were a kid and you went to the library and they had that pencil with the little rubber stamp clipped to the top, to press into an ink pad?”

He nodded.

“All I ever wanted to do was to use that pencil.”

He gave her a grin.

She laughed. “But guess what? Now you swipe a card on the computer. We hardly use it at all.”

“What a horrible shame.”

She could tell he was trying to keep a straight face. “Hey you. Stop it.”

“I came home after I graduated and moved in here.” She gestured around the kitchen with her free hand. “I work at—you guessed it—the library. Not a great place to meet guys, unless you happen to like ten-year-olds. I go to drama a few nights a week and do arts and crafts to keep from going insane during long winter evenings. There. Does that sound pathetic enough for you? Are you asleep yet?”

He crossed his arms and leaned on the table top. “Of course not. You've managed something I haven't. You have a home and a steady job and you take care of yourself.” He looked toward the dark window above the sink. “I roam. Endlessly, according for my father. I'm not sure what I want, or where I should go.”

“I imagine working with refugees is exhausting. How long were you there?”

He looked back and sighed, “Two years.”

“Oh, Adrian. You're just burnt out. That's understandable.”

He slumped in his chair. He looked done in. She suddenly noticed the dark shadows under his eyes, and the almost gaunt hollows below his cheekbones.

“Why don't you stay here?” It came right out of the blue. She didn't even know she was going to say it.

He shook his head and gave her a small smile. “Oh, no thanks, Lexie. You've been so kind already. I don't want to wear out my welcome.”

“Look, I have an extra bedroom upstairs. It's not much to look at, but it's clean, or will be, once I drag a couple of garbage bags of art supplies out of there. And quite frankly I could use the rent. I'm always gasping for money. Stay for a week, stay for a month, however long it takes to sort yourself out. At least until the snow melts.”

She looked into his beautiful sad eyes, and thought she saw tears well up for a moment.

Then he said quietly. “You're brilliant. Thank you.”

Chapter Two

They certainly made an odd couple—Lexie as round as an apple, Adrian a long drink of water. No one knew what to make of it. Lexie's mother was flabbergasted. Lexie stopped in to see if she had a couple of extra pillows she could borrow for Adrian. Her mother, in a pair of linen slacks and a cashmere top, was housecleaning. The only concession she made to domesticity was a silk scarf wrapped around her newly done hair.

She threw her sponge mop into a bucket of hot, soapy water. “You invited a man to live with you four hours after you met? How positively horrifying.”

Lexie rolled her eyes.

“Is he single?”

“Obviously.”

“Please tell me he's not over forty, because if he is, he's a mama's boy and you'll have a hard time getting rid of him. Unmarried men are very needy at that age.”

“Where do you come up with this stuff?”

“It's a proven fact.”

Lexie sighed. “Well, he's twenty-six if you must know.”

Her mother peeled off her rubber gloves. “Oh. Well, don't get your hopes up dearest. He's much too young for you. I don't understand why you don't join a dating service. They screen potential nut cases and God knows what else. It's safer.”

Lexie kept her mouth shut and waited because she knew the lecture wasn't over.

Her mom picked up a mister and started to spray her plants. “Lord knows, I want you to get married, but not to the first vagabond who roams into town.” She shook her head and pumped away. Lexie followed her around because she wouldn't stay still.

“I didn't say I'd marry him. He's a boarder.”

“I want you to get one of those emergency button dohickeys. You know the type. You press the thing if he gets fresh.” She sprayed mist in Lexie's face.

“First of all, Mother, no one gets fresh these days and secondly, no one would want to if I wore a huge alarm buzzer around my neck.”

She took the pillows and left. Lexie knew her mom would tell her dad the minute he got home. He wouldn't say anything because he trusted her. Her mother forgot she wasn't a teenager anymore. But her sisters weren't enthusiastic either.

“Oh my God, Lex,” Kate worried over the phone from Halifax. “Do you know what you're doing? You don't know him very well. Is it possible to do a background check on him?”

“What is it with you university professors?” Lexie laughed. “Every-thing's an essay.”

Kate and Lexie talked every week. She didn't mind Kate's comments. Her youngest sister was a worrywart, but she was kind about it.

Beth, on the other hand, had her own take on things.

“Are you fucking nuts?”

Lexie bumped into her in the small appliance aisle at Wal-Mart the day after she'd told Mom.

The Ivy family had a system for familial dirt and gossip. Lexie called it the underground thumping. Someone heard something juicy and, like a throbbing beat, other members of the tribe picked up the signal and weighed in with their two cents.

Beth had a tendency to curse when she was at the end of her rope or when she got excited. So did Lexie, but never in front of children. She felt morally superior about this position.

She covered her nieces' ears with her gloved hands. This delighted Maddie. “I wish you wouldn't talk like that in front of Madison.”

Beth blew air up into her bangs. “Oh for the love of Pete, she's only nine months old.”

“Do you really want her first word to be f-u-c-k?”

“Lexie, have your own baby and then tell me what to do. Until then, keep it zipped.”

That hurt. Lexie had always wanted children. Beth had four girls, all a year apart. That's why she was a grouch so much of the time—exhaustion. The fact that Beth had four daughters was a source of great delight to their parents. Imagine having four girls and one of your four girls having four girls. Ha Ha. Worse, her blonde perky sister looked about eighteen years old, with a teensy body to match. And her stomach was still as flat as a board.

Lexie stuck up for herself. “Unlike you, I live by myself and I get lonely if you must know. He's a great guy and I like him. Not to mention, it'll help financially since I make peanuts. We're not all married to a big shot accountant.”

Beth had the good grace to look chastened.

“Sorry. You're a big girl. You can take care of yourself.”

There it was again. That word. Big.

Did she do it on purpose?

Lexie felt like a rebel for keeping Adrian as a house guest. After only days, they were like an old married couple, settled into a comfortable routine. She'd go to work and he'd have supper on when she got home. They shared the household duties; in fact, the house never looked better, now that Adrian was around.