CHAPTER 32

i i i

MOIRA

The harvest dance was in full swing. Silas and I stood watching, a sleeping Shannon in my arms. A grey-haired fiddler scratched out a country tune, while his son strummed a guitar and sang slightly off-key. Young men with scrubbed, shiny faces cautiously crossed the hall to approach even younger women, who stood waiting, shy but hopeful. I’d never been a wallflower, my dance card always full. I swallowed hard at the memory. At how much had changed.

Silas had heard about the episode with Gabe. “It’s such a small place. How could Dillan not know I lived at Penny’s brothel?” I asked him.

“Excuse me for saying so, but sometimes Dillan has his head up his ass and can’t see what’s happening right in front of him.”

I laughed and Shannon stirred in my arms, smiling, rooting for her thumb. I had missed Silas through the long harvest. His straightforward way.

“Look at how he is with Carla,” Silas continued as Dillan and Carla stumbled by, hands touching, eyes radiant. “She couldn’t make things any more clear. Some things are just so obvious.”

It didn’t seem all that obvious to me. There was Casey to consider, and Shannon. I needed to live with him until I figured out how to get home. I hadn’t considered it could be Dillan who might help Carla, who might rescue her and give her the choices she deserved.

“Listen here, Moira. Even though Dillan didn’t know about Penny’s, he should have stepped in.” His face drew tight. He turned suddenly and looked into my eyes, then whisked Shannon away and into the arms of Mrs. Miller, who was standing nearby. “Let’s dance, Moira Burns.”

My protest went unheeded.

“Go on girl.” Mrs. Miller gave me a small push, nodding toward Silas as he stood waiting, tapping his foot to the rhythm of the waltz that had just begun. His hand was on my back, guiding me to the middle of the dance floor and into his arms, my right hand clasped lightly in his, his other encircling my waist. One, two, three. One, two, three. We waltzed in sweeping circles, the fiddler’s music filling the room with a plaintive keening, and I succumbed to Silas’s guiding hands. He was gazing down through his thick glasses, a slightly dreamy smile at the corners of his mouth. I grinned back at him and slowly let my arm rest against his.

The song ended, the fiddler becoming businesslike again as he announced they’d resume playing after a short break, suggesting we enjoy the refreshments laid out near the coatroom. Silas walked me back to Mrs. Miller. Shannon was winding up to cry. I kept my eyes down, but no one was paying the least attention to us. Except for Dillan. He sent me a small wave from across the hall while Carla, standing at his side, beamed up at him. Silas was right; it was obvious. I smiled back. Then Shannon began to wail.

“I should be taking her home.” It was a disappointing thought.

Silas nodded and I went to gather our things before making my way over to Dillan. “Are you ready to go then?” I asked, and he looked dismayed. Casey leaned against his knee, tired from a full night of dance and strangers.

“I’ll take them home,” Silas said from behind me. He helped me with my jacket and picked up Casey, arranging us like a family about to head out.

Relief spread across Dillan’s face, and I saw the barely contained joy in Carla’s eyes as she pulled him onto the dance floor again. As we headed out the door, I caught sight of Gabe leaning against the wall in the corner, his hat pulled down low. He watched Carla and Dillan spin past him, shaking his head and muttering to himself, his eyes following their every move. I shuddered and rushed out quickly, unsure of what Silas might do if he saw Gabe there.

The air outside was fresh and autumn crisp. Casey promptly fell asleep on the wagon seat between us while I fed Shannon, a blanket thrown over her head and my shoulder. She, too, was quickly dreaming.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’d like to go by my place first.” Silas sounded casual, but his voice betrayed there was something on his mind. We were alone but for small babes who would keep all secrets for now. I trusted him and his good-natured way, but I’d begun to doubt my instincts.

“That’s fine,” I said finally. “How is it I haven’t seen your home? You’re one of the first people I met when I arrived in Saskatchewan.”

“There’s not much to see, I’m afraid. I don’t spend much time there,” he said.

“A person’s home says a lot about them, don’t you think?” I spoke quickly, suddenly conscious of my current homelessness, wondering if home still existed for me in my parents’ house. I hadn’t received a single response to my letters and had stopped asking Dillan about the mail, my disappointment harder to hide each time he shook his head. Instead I hoped to be surprised one day by some correspondence from my family, some sign that I was indeed still one of them.

We were pulling up to an old two-story frame house where beautiful big elms loomed over the verandah, their branches reaching into the shadows, dwarfing the house. At least these giants had survived the storm. He took Casey down from the wagon and helped me with Shannon.

“I haven’t kept it up,” he said as we mounted steps to the double front door.

“I’m sure it’s wonderful.”

It was less than wonderful. When Silas opened the door, I was startled by an orange tabby cat shooting out between my feet. The air coming from the house smelled musty. I hesitated to go in, able to see only the outline of furniture until Silas hurriedly laid Casey down on a cot in one corner of the room and lit a lamp. An oak table sat in the middle of the kitchen with four chairs around it, one of them resting precariously on three good legs against the table. Everything was covered with a thick coat of dust except a small area on the kitchen counter, a chair and a clean circle on the table in front of it where Silas obviously had his meals.

We walked in silence to the sitting room. A davenport and two armchairs were covered in white sheets turned grey with dust. Through an open arched doorway, we emerged into a small adjoining room with varnished floors and what had once been a luxurious area rug. An upright piano stood in one corner. I ran the fingers of my free hand lightly over the keys, their worn sheen. They’d been played a great deal.

“Do you play?” he asked quietly.

“Some.”

He was watching, searching for my reactions maybe, or simply letting the house reveal itself. I wished I’d kept quiet earlier.

“It’s a lovely house. Just needs a little cleaning.” I wiped a finger through the dust on the banister of a staircase and peered up into the gloom to see the closed door at the top.

He laughed – a small, relieved sound that broke the tension. Shannon stirred, yawning a smile in her sleep. We watched her for a moment before Silas took my arm and guided me to another corner of the room. He pulled a sheet from a large oak cabinet framed by ornately carved mouldings. Inside it was a full set of four beautiful rose-patterned china teacups and saucers, a teapot and an assortment of dinnerware. Silas opened the door and gestured for me to look inside. Picking up the pieces one by one, I admired the red-and-white detail, their fine pattern a reminder that, somewhere in the world, such beautiful things were still admired.

“I have a proposition for you. No, that’s the wrong word,” he said when I stepped away from him. “Look. You are in a predicament. And if something happens between Dillan and Carla, where will you be?”

I didn’t want this conversation. “Surely she’ll finish school before she’s allowed to leave home.”

“I think you know that’s not how it works.” He was growing impatient. “It would be good for Dillan. And for Casey. He needs a real mother.”

I stiffened. “And not a dollybird.”

“Oh God, Moira.” Silas looked stricken. “That’s not what I meant. Come, let me show you something.”

Grabbing a lantern, he took me by the elbow and guided me up the stairs. When he reached the top he stepped in front of me and the door swung in, opening to a large room. The light threw shadows on the gabled walls as he hung the lantern from a hook in the ceiling. The hardwood floors had been recently polished. Against one wall was a wide bed with a small dresser next to it, a bassinet on the other side. The bed was covered with a worn comforter, the lovely blue of my grandmother’s shattered china. A desk and chair were arranged on the opposite wall with a few books stacked beside them. I walked around the room lightly touching things, running my hand over the bedspread, the top of the dresser. I turned to find Silas watching me.

“It’s for you,” he said, and took Shannon from me and laid her in the bassinet. All the blood rushed to my head as he approached and put his hand on my arm. “You can live here, in this room. For now.”

There were times in the past few months when I would have given anything to have this room. To feel at home. To feel safe. A strange sense of calm overtook me. He thought I was like the china in the cabinet, too fragile for everyday use, needing to be kept out of harm’s way as though I might shatter at the first sign of trouble-blue teacups in a storm. But I was not so fragile. I had choices. I pulled away.

“Silas, it’s wonderful, absolutely wonderful, but...” I wanted desperately not to hurt him. “I’ve decided to go home, to Newfoundland.”

“Moira.” His hands reached out and then fell to his sides.

“I have to go back and set things straight with my father.”

“But he’s abandoned you,” he said, his voice cracking.

“Father reacted the way any father would.”

It all came rushing at me. I wanted to give Father a second chance. And perhaps he’d give me one as well, mentoring me, teaching me the rest of what I needed to know to be a good doctor, perhaps even to be a good parent.

“If I don’t go back I can’t become a doctor. Not the kind I want to be. They can help with Shannon so I have time to learn. And they are still my family.”

Silas shook his head in disbelief, and anger burned in his dark eyes. “I’ll take you home now.”

The ride was stiff and silent. As we pulled up I saw the sod hut as Silas must see it, cramped and musty despite our best efforts to spruce it up. Small wonder he’d thought I’d jump at his offer. He came in and helped Casey into his pajamas and tucked him into bed, gave the slightest of nods and was out the door. I wanted to go after him, to make amends, but what could I say to make things different?