Dogs and the Devil
Banquette: a long bench in a sailboat’s cockpit
The clip-clop of horse hooves drew William’s attention to a tourist couple in a red-wheeled wagon that had room for four, maybe even six, passengers. The guide/driver sat on a bench at the front. His dad had promised to take him for a ride last summer. Maybe his granddad or granny would take him this year. The horse was a big beige draught horse, bred for pulling loads more than for riding. William thought it was a Percheron, just slightly smaller than a Clydesdale. The broad hooves covered in hair stopped for the tour guide’s talk.
“Lunenburg’s designation as a United Nations World Heritage site means that all of the buildings in Old Lunenburg have to respect their original architecture. They can’t be torn down and replaced with new buildings, nor can they be repaired just any old way.”
That’s why everything looked out of time, William thought. He glanced at Manny’s map.
“Why are they painted such bright colours?” asked one of the passengers.
“See, many of these houses once belonged to sea captains who painted their houses with paint left over from their schooners. Since the schooners were all different colours, so were the houses. The town was named in honour of King George II, who was also Duke of Braunschweig-Lüneburg.”
A click of the guide’s tongue moved saddle soap and horse smells past William. He followed them to Duke and Cumberland streets. The guide pointed out St. John’s Anglican Church, rebuilt, he said, after the accidental fire in 2001. Close by was the old fire hall. Across the way was a two-storey building in blue and white with gold trim bearing a sign, Royal Canadian Legion, Branch 23.
A girl in a checkered shirt, a bit taller than William, slid out of the building. Blond head down and stiff-legged, she jangled car keys against her jeans. A man with salt-and-pepper hair burst out behind her. He whipped out a cigar and lit it with the movements of a much younger man. He puffed the cigar to life with a head back tilt before sending the smoking match arcing to the grass on his left. A southpaw is what his dad would have called this lefty.
“Excuse me. I’m looking for my grandfather, Daniel McCoy.”
The girl’s puzzled “oh” broadened into a smile. “Will! Oh, my God, I didn’t recognize you. You’ve changed since last year. You’ve, um, you’ve grown.” William tucked in his wrinkled shirt and smoothed back his greasy hair. This girl with the white-toothed smile looked faintly familiar.
“I’m Harley, Emmett’s granddaughter, remember? We’re cousins,” she added, walking through the fog of smoke wafting their way. Harley fanned it as she reached for the man’s shoulder.
“Grandpa, guess who’s here from Toronto?”
“What’s that? Louder and funnier, please,” he said, cupping a hand to his ear. Then he broke into a smile. “William!” he said, spreading his arms to give him a hug.
“You probably don’t remember me,” Emmett said as William retreated a step.
“This is your great-uncle Emmett McCann, my grandfather,” added Harley, plucking Emmett’s cigar from his outstretched hand.
“I’m your grandfather’s cousin. Just call me Emmett. Look how tall he’s grown, Harley. So glad you came. Where’s Ferne? And why didn’t you call? We’d have picked you up from the airport.” He snatched his cigar back and tucked it away from Harley.
“Uh, actually, I took the bus. Alone.”
“Ferne let — your mother let you come all the way here alone? Without calling?”
“Uh, well, yeah, sort of.”
“Sort of? It’s either yes or no, William.”
“Well, actually, I haven’t talked to my mom yet.”
“In plain English, William, does your mother even know you’re here? Please, cut the crap. I hate it when people pour bilge water down my back and tell me it’s raining.”
Although his tone was even, Harley chimed, “Grandpa, you’re being hard.”
Emmett blew a puff of cigar smoke out the side of his mouth. “Well?”
“Well, uh … I left Mom a note. Told her I was camping. I called her when I arrived but I only got the answering … Sorry. I just wanted to see Granddad. I didn’t …”
“A sensitive, caring boy would make sure his mom knew where he was, hmmm?”
Harley balled her fists on her hips and leaned forward with a reproachful stare.
“I’m not being hard,” protested Emmett. “It just, well, it just sounds that way.”
“It sounds hard? Heya, that’s what I said.”
“Then we agree.”
“One of these days, Grandpa, I’m going to —”
“Whatever it is, put it on the calendar. I’ll arrange to be out of town.”
Emmett secured his cigar on a windowsill and led them inside.
She reached with the tips of her index finger and thumb like she would to pick up a slimy bug.
Emmett’s voice boomed, “Dogs and the devil take you if you throw out that cigar.”
“Why do you insist on smoking those horrible things, Grandpa?”
“It keeps the mosquitoes away.” Emmett reappeared and snatched back his cigar.
“There are no mosquitoes.”
“Obviously works,” puffed Emmett with an impish grin.
“Will, you go ahead. We’ll be in shortly,” Harley directed.
“Where to?”
Emmett flicked a finger to the lower floor. “Daniel’s there with Reverend Strawbridge discussing tomorrow’s memorial,” he answered. Smoke wisped through his teeth like steam from a manhole cover in January. “Isn’t that why you’re here?”
He nodded. “Is Granny here, too?”
Harley and Emmett exchanged an awkward look. She answered. “Ah, well, she’s in Halifax right now. Back tomorrow, of course. She’s coming with my parents.”
“What’s she doing in Halifax?”
“She’s, well, she’s taking care of some business. Business stuff.”