The Age of Hope (12 page)

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Authors: Bergen David

Tags: #Fiction, #Literary, #C429, #Kat, #Extratorrents

BOOK: The Age of Hope
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On Monday, under the pretext of Penny’s phobias and her upset stomach, Hope took her to see Doctor Krahn. She left Penny in the waiting room and asked to speak with Doctor Krahn privately.

“Of course, of course.” He was a big man with a toolarge head and Hope wasn’t sure she could trust him with all of her information and so she waded in carefully, spelling out her desire for Penny to have a physical.

“As you know, she’s been suffering stomach pains and I just want to cover all the bases, you know? I’d like you to do an internal.”

“Has there been some trauma?”

“Not that I know of, and I don’t want to seem over the top, but she worries me.”

“Is she eating?”

Hope had to admit that she was eating well.

“And sleeping?”

“Yes, she is. She’s doesn’t talk much, not to me at least, and I was hoping you might get her to open up.”

“Of course. And you, Mrs. Koop? How are you feeling?”

Hope was holding Melanie on her lap, and as Doctor Krahn asked this question he chucked Melanie softly under the chin and it felt so intimate and so strange that for a second it seemed that the doctor had touched Hope’s chin. She pulled back and said that she was much better, thank you. She stood and went to fetch Penny, who was reading a book, her bare legs swinging.

When Penny re-entered the waiting room, she blew up her cheeks and rolled her eyes at her mother. Hope returned to the examination room to talk to Doctor Krahn.

“Okay,” he said. “It appears that Penny is suffering from anxiety. She’s worried that you will disappear again. She’s worried that the world will end. She’s just generally worried, which is a big burden for such a child. Do you talk to her about world events?”

“Never. Rarely. The newspaper is available and there is the news on television, but we don’t make a habit of discussing what’s going on in the world.”

“Maybe you should. She’s very aware of politics. She knew about the Bay of Pigs, about the Kennedys, Khrushchev, and she believes that there will be a nuclear war.” He lifted his outsized head. “A child her age should be playing outside, with friends. She shouldn’t be so aware of the problems of adults.”

“Did you do an internal? Has she been damaged?”

“No, I noticed nothing untoward. She has the physical prowess and constitution of a child her age. She has not been ‘damaged.’ Is there something I need to know?”

Hope shook her head. She was very relieved. She kissed the top of Melanie’s head and stood and thanked the doctor.

In the car, driving home, she said, “The book I loved as a child was
The Wind in the Willows.
Maybe you should try it.”

“I think I’ll go to school again. Every day.” Penny took a deep breath, and exhaled.

Hope looked at her. She was holding Melanie on her lap. “Okay. That’s fine. I’ll walk you.”

“I want to walk with Judith.”

“That’s an idea.”

“I wish I were old, like Judith.”

“Oh, Penny. You have lots of time to grow up. Soon we’ll have to have a little talk about your body and becoming a young woman.”

“Judith already told me.”

“About sex?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Oh.”

“Does Doctor Krahn know about David?”

“No. Of course not. Why?”

“It’s none of his business.”

“Well, it is if you were hurt.”

Penny turned away to look out the window.

Hope was perplexed. If Judith had told Penny about sex, perhaps she had been experimenting with David. Trying things out. Hope told herself to breathe. All would be well. She just needed to be more vigilant.

That same afternoon, after Judith and Conner had come back from school, Hope left Judith in charge of the children and drove over to the Goosens’ house on First Street. She was driving a Chevy Biscayne, a two-door sedan, dark green. Roy had brought it home two weeks earlier and handed her the keys and said with a smile that he had a hot rod for her. She didn’t like two-doors, as it was difficult to move groceries and children in and out of the back seat. And now, sitting by the curb in front of the Goosen residence, she thought that the car itself was very conspicuous and everyone would know who she was. She was dressed in slacks and pumps and she wore a light cashmere sweater over her blouse and she had pulled her hair back in a ponytail. She wore sunglasses because she was nervous. The fact was that there had been no damage to her daughter, nothing physical, and perhaps she was simply pushing the issue because ultimately she blamed herself. And now she was about to take it out on the Goosens’ fifteen-year-old boy. When Hope was a child, Hope’s mother had produced a word a day that Hope was to learn and use. One of those words was “pusillanimity” and she still knew the definition: the quality or character of being pusillanimous; lack of courage; timidity. And now, remembering this word, she got out of the car and walked up to the front door and rang the doorbell.

Mrs. Goosen became more and more disdainful as she heard Hope’s explanation. Perhaps it was her delivery, Hope thought later, the fact that her story went in circles and wasn’t terribly clear.

“You’re telling me that my David molested your daughter, Hope? Nonsense.”

“Well, molested is perhaps too strong, but I found him touching Penny’s bare stomach in her bedroom.”

“She was naked?”

“Her top was off, yes.”

“Well, don’t you think she’s old enough to know better? Please, Hope, you’re being hysterical. This is impossible.”

“No, it’s true.”

“And you talked to Penny.”

“Yes, and she confirmed it.”

“Confirmed what?”

“That she touched David. Down there. And he touched her.”

“Nonsense. Girls her age make up stories. You frightened her, Hope, and she had to make something up.”

“I walked in on them, Doreen. They were on her bed. This isn’t just a case of two children the same age playing doctor.”

“Why did it take so long for her to tell you this? And where were you all this time?”

She had feared it would come down to this. Her own sanity would be called into question. She said, “This isn’t about me. I’ve been back from the hospital for over a year now, and really my sanity is not the concern, and the fact that your son is touching my daughter has nothing to do with my sickness. Besides, I’m not sick. If I were, I wouldn’t be standing here in your house.”

“Hope. Hope. Your whole family was here for a family gathering at Christmas. Ian and Roy are cousins. They sit on town council together. David works pumping the gas at Roy’s business. Why are you doing this?”

“I know all those things, Doreen. Don’t talk down to me. I’m doing this for Penny, who is eight years old, not fifteen. The fact is we won’t be coming to your house for Christmas anymore. David is not welcome at our house from now on, and I will talk to Roy about all of this.”

She turned and left, and as she walked down the sidewalk to her Biscayne, she thought that what she had just done and said was completely uncalled for and she feared that Roy would be very angry, and she imagined that Penny might be more damaged by her mother’s behaviour than any kind of sexual play with a second cousin. She was a failure.

That night, in bed, she held Roy’s hand and told him the whole story. She finished with the visit to the Goosen house, and Doreen’s outrage, and her own shame. “I felt bad, Roy. For you. For Penny. I should have talked to you first. I’m sorry.”

Roy cleared his throat and asked softly, “Doreen took no responsibility? She said that David was innocent?”

“She didn’t say he was innocent. She said that Penny had some responsibility for this as well. If any of this was even true. She didn’t believe me.”

“So the fact is, she didn’t believe Penny.”

Hope hadn’t thought of it in that way. “Yes,” she said. “She didn’t believe Penny.” She waited. “What will we do? Should we give David a second chance? I feel sorry for him.”

“This isn’t about David. This is about Penny. We need to help her.”

“She didn’t seem ashamed at all. Though she did say that I shouldn’t tell you.”

“Why should she be ashamed, Hope?”

“I don’t know. I feel so embarrassed. I feel as if I can’t protect my own children.”

“Nonsense. I’ll speak to David tomorrow and give him his two-week notice. There are lots of other jobs in town. I’ll talk to Ian and explain why David will no longer be working for me. And why David should not visit our house anymore. And we should both talk to Penny and help her understand that this is not her burden. That she should not be ashamed.” He took her hand. “And you have no reason to be embarrassed.”

“She’s my child, Roy. I raised her.”

“A child, yes. Exactly.”

“I thought you would be angry with me.” She squeezed his hand.

“That’s an insult, Hope, to think I would want to call Penny a liar. Who do you think I am?”

“You’re right. I know who you are.” Though she thought, as he fell asleep and she lay there, that she didn’t know him in every way. His vehemence, his clarity, had been unexpected.

She fell asleep clutching him to her, grateful that he could surprise her, yet still worried that Penny had acquired her mother’s nature.

She loved Roy. When they first married, she was smitten by his kindness and his soft nature. Even now, after many years of marriage, she still loved him, though she wondered sometimes if she didn’t simply admire him because he had so few flaws. He was a good boss, one of the first businessmen in Eden to set up an employee pension plan. He paid overtime, incorporated an employee complaint system, held regular staff meetings and parties, and handed out Christmas bonuses. Being stingy was not the path to success—satisfied workers and customers was. Failure, of course, was always possible, and both Roy and Hope knew that failure was not looked upon favourably. When Hope became sick, there was an underlying sense, conveyed through conversations and hints, that she was perhaps not strong enough in her faith, and that both of them were in some way tainted. As if to prove it wrong, Roy threw himself with increased gusto into his business, and because of this added energy and vision, the business grew and Roy spent more and more time at the dealership and she became more and more lonely. She had her mother, but this was not like having a friend. Emily rarely came back to Eden, and Hope was too busy these days to visit her in Winnipeg. As for the women in Eden her age, they too were occupied with children and keeping house and shopping for groceries and cooking large dinners. The few times Hope had attempted to insert herself into a Ladies’ Auxiliary or Wednesday evening Bible study, she had come away feeling inadequate and different. She was different. She had had a nervous breakdown, and this was perceived as “dangerous,” as if it were a disease that others might catch.

And so, once a week, in the evening after dinner, when Roy went out to town council meetings or returned to the dealership, she tucked the younger children into bed, asked Judith to keep an eye on them, and went to visit Emily’s ex-husband, Paul Shroeder, who spent his evenings in his woodworking shop building end tables and hutches and smaller pieces he gave to the Goodwill store. She would sit in a lawn chair that Paul provided and watch him bend towards the lathe or the drill press, and because the machines were quite loud, the conversation was often broken up, though neither seemed to mind. She loved the smell of freshly cut wood and she liked to see a piece of furniture come together, section by section.

Following the first visit, when she left with sawdust on her slacks and woodchips stuck to her sweater, Paul presented her with a pair of coveralls. The coveralls were grey and orange and slightly large for her, but she wore them in any case, rolling up the sleeves so that her thin white wrists protruded like two bare branches of a tree. When they spoke, it was at first of Paul’s work, and when that subject was exhausted, she talked about the children and Roy, never divulging much, keeping it safe, and then she sat, quietly waiting. She did not know what she was waiting for, but she did not mind the silences, and she liked the manner in which Paul moved so surely about his shop, his hands picking up a tape measure, and then a chisel, and then a piece of rough oak, readying it for the planer. Sometimes he asked for her assistance in clamping two pieces of wood, and during those moments, when he was spreading the glue and telling her which end of the wood to hold, she wondered if she too could possibly build something. She asked him this, and he seemed surprised, though in the end he suggested she might want to build a breadboard, how about that?

That evening before getting to work, they had talked about Emily and Angela. Paul said that Emily had a lover now, and the way he said it indicated that he was angry and bewildered. “Did you know?” he asked.

“I did. I knew this quite a long time ago. I thought you were aware.”

“Why should I be? I work, I pay the bills, I give Emily money, I help out with Angela. Nobody tells me anything.”

Hope, attempting to mollify, said, “Well, Paul, nobody’s stopping you from finding someone. You’re young and handsome. And available.” She smiled. She herself didn’t find Paul particularly handsome—his face was bulbous—but he was kind and generous, though agonizingly shy.

He didn’t respond, simply handed Hope her coveralls and turned away as she slipped into them, as if allowing her some privacy, even though she was pulling them over the clothes she was wearing. This amused her, his modesty. Perhaps his imagination was greater than he let on, otherwise he wouldn’t be so careful with her. And at the end of the evening he did the same thing, turned away as she removed her coveralls. “Okay,” she said, perhaps too lightly, “I’ve got my clothes on,” and she laughed. He turned back to her and she saw something dark in his eyes and then he reached for her and took her jaw in his hand and he leaned forward and kissed her. It was a rough intemperate kiss, very clumsy, and she felt his teeth bang hers as he pushed his tongue into her mouth. She tried to shove him away and mumbled, “Paul, stop, don’t,” but he was very strong and his left hand held her right forearm, clamping it, and his breath was hot and she felt his evening whiskers against her lips and mouth. She was leaning back against the table saw and her left hand scrabbled about, seeking support. She felt the hard square of the tape measure and she gathered it up and swung and hit Paul on the side of the head. He let go of her and put a hand to his head, turning away.

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