She arrives at the Motel Maisonneuve on Ontario Street breathless with excitement. She has so much to tell him, starting with the news that she’s leaving Roland, that it’s done and there’s no turning back. She’s also going to tell him about what happened to her in Frelighsburg—the rape, the pregnancy, having to give up the baby. She wants to rid herself of all her secrets and start this next phase of her life with a clean slate. Fate has brought them back together, and she owes Gabriel the truth. He’s been in the dark long enough.
She knocks on the door, in case he’s already here. She’s smiling just thinking about him. She’s got a bottle of wine in her bag, and she’s wearing a new lace bra and panties. Gabriel opens the door and then immediately sits down on the bed without actually greeting her. No hello, no embrace. She follows him inside.
The room is a disappointment. It’s dingy and has a musty smell. The curtains, mustard-yellow burlap, are drawn. There’s a simple pine headboard, a frayed chenille bedspread, and an olive green carpet that needs vacuuming. “I thought it would be nicer,” she says, setting her purse down on the bureau and pulling out the wine.
He doesn’t say anything, only stares straight ahead with a strange look on his face. She rushes over to him and strokes his blond brush cut, then bends down to kiss him on the mouth.
He turns away.
“What’s wrong?” she asks him.
“I went home this weekend.”
“Don’t tell me your sister talked you out of leaving Annie?” she says, sitting down beside him. “Don’t listen to Clémentine. I’ve already told Roland I’m leaving.”
“What did you do that for?” he says gruffly. There’s something in his voice that frightens her.
“Why not?” she says. “We agreed it’s what we both want.”
His eyes are dark, distant. Something is different.
“What’s wrong, Gabriel?” she asks him again.
“It’s not going to work.”
“Since when?” she cries, confused. “You don’t love Annie. We talked about this.”
“This isn’t about Annie.”
“What is it about then? I thought it was decided, right before you went home to Dunham. We still love each other. What happened?”
“We almost made a huge mistake.”
“I don’t understand. Did Clémentine say something? Did my father?”
“It’s over.”
The bed beneath her feels unsteady. “Don’t say that,” she says, crouching down in front of him and wrapping her arms around his legs.
He pushes her off and looks her right in the eye, with not a trace of affection.
“What have I done?”
“I ran into Audrey McCauley in Dunham,” he says, his voice chillingly calm.
“Where?”
“I went to church with my sisters on Sunday,” he explains. “I actually wanted to thank Audrey for putting you in touch with Godbout.”
He knows. In that split second, Maggie’s world collapses.
“She told me you had quite a heart-to-heart, the two of you.”
She feels like throwing up. This isn’t how it was supposed to go.
“She told me you gave away our baby,” he says, getting up off the bed and moving restlessly around the room.
“Gabriel—”
“I didn’t even know you were pregnant.”
“Why would Audrey tell you that?”
“She assumed I knew. Why would she think you’d keep such a thing from me?”
“I told her you didn’t know!” Maggie cries. “She also knew I was planning to tell you.”
“When?”
“Today! Now.”
He laughs. “Right. What a coincidence.”
“She did this to hurt you and to punish me.”
“I don’t care about her!” he shouts. “This isn’t about Audrey.”
Maggie covers her face with her hands. How could she have made such a colossal error trusting Audrey?
“I told Roland I was leaving him,” she says. “And that I’m still in love with you. I was planning to tell you everything today, so that we could have a fresh start.”
Gabriel laughs again, a hard, angry noise that fills her with dread. “So it’s true,” he says. “You gave away our child.”
She realizes that no answer will ever bring him solace or possibly even salvage their relationship. The truth is impossible. It’s been too long. “I had no choice,” she attempts.
He paces the carpet while she cowers against the headboard, watching and waiting. “You gave away my daughter, Maggie.”
“My parents made me,” she says. “They made all the decisions. I had no say. It was 1950 and I was sixteen and my father threatened to disown me if I ever saw you again!”
“And what about the last few times we were together?” he accuses. “The night we bumped into each other in the cornfield? Or the first time I took you to the Papineau apartment and we talked for hours? Or the day we made love?”
“I came here to tell you today,” she repeats dejectedly. “I’m sorry you found out before I had the chance.”
“Sorry?” He shakes his head in disgust. “We stood outside Canadair the other day and talked about the future and about me divorcing Annie for you, and you didn’t think of mentioning that we had a fucking daughter together?”
“It wasn’t like that,” she says. “There’s more to it.”
“What is it like then?” he cries.
“I wanted to tell you everything the moment I saw you in the field that night. But it’s complicated. There’s more to the story than what Audrey told you.”
“I know the story,” he says. “You didn’t want to spend your life with me, living in poverty with a French-Canadian factory worker.”
“I wasn’t sure the baby was yours!” she blurts.
This silences him.
“My uncle Yvon raped me when I was living with him,” she says. “That’s the story.”
Gabriel’s hands ball into fists.
“I was going to tell you, my love. Today.”
Gabriel sits down on the edge of the bed, deflated. She waits, hopeful that he’ll understand and take her in his arms and they can move forward with their plans. A long time passes, but he doesn’t move. He just sits there, staring at the floor.
“Gabriel? Say something. Please.”
He looks up at her, his eyes red. “I’m sorry for you,” he says. “I really am. And if you had told me back then, I would have killed the bastard. Maybe I still will.”
“I know.”
“I know you know,” he says. “That’s the problem. If you would’ve told me the truth back then, we could have managed. We could have raised the baby together. And that’s the thing I can’t get past. You didn’t want to.”
“That’s not true,” she says, but her words lack conviction. There is some truth to them—she’d weighed her options back then, and what she was most terrified of losing was her father and his seed store. To that end, she was complicit with her parents’ decision.
“That’s what hurts most,” he tells her. “You knew I would take care of you no matter who the baby belonged to, but when your father threatened to disown you, you chose him.”
“I was a child,” she says. “I wasn’t ready for marriage. So yes, I chose my family. You would have done the same. But I’m a grown woman now.”
“I would not have done the same thing,” he counters. “Anyway, nothing’s changed, Maggie.”
“Don’t punish me for the decision I made over a decade ago when I was just a kid.”
“So it was your decision,” he says, his rage suddenly reignited. He turns away from her and kicks in the wall with his boot. The plaster crumbles, but it doesn’t stop him. He comes at her and grabs her by the shoulders. For a split second, she worries he’s going to throw her to the ground. He shakes her once, hard, and then stops. “I would have married you,” he tells her, devastated.
“Marry me now.”
“It’s too much of a risk. We haven’t changed enough for it to work.”
“We’ve grown up, Gabriel. We’re adults now.”
“I can’t get past this,” he says, releasing her. “You could have come clean about your pregnancy before I had to hear it from Audrey McCauley. But you were still sizing me up, trying to figure out if you could be happy in my world. If I’m good enough for you.”
“You’re the one who doesn’t think you’re good enough for me!” she throws back. “That’s why you’re running.”
“I’m not running. I’m leaving, because I don’t trust you.”
He stands up and moves away from the bed. She follows him, positioning herself directly in front of him and blocking his path. “My love,” she says. “Please, don’t go.”
He tries to hide his face, but she glimpses his expression. Instead of the condemnation and contempt she’d anticipated, she sees tears sliding down his cheeks.
“Don’t do this,” she pleads.
He stares at her for a moment, his expression cold and resigned, and then he pushes past her. “It’s over, Maggie.”
“No one can love you like I do.”
“Or hurt me as much.”