Chapter ­20

It was eleven o’clock but Jack’s parents were sitting on the front porch of the store watching for him. Something about their silence cut off greeting and conversation. Wes and Cathy headed home without stopping to talk. Cathy wanted to show her parents the ring before anyone else in town saw it. But Jack told his ­folks.

His mother shook her head. His dad motioned for Jack to sit down on the ­step.

“I should put the stuff away.”

“It can wait.”

Jack wondered whether someone had reported to his folks about the fight in Moose Jaw. No one from Cairn could have seen them, could they? And why were they sitting here instead of at ­home?

“We received a telegram from Flo’s supervisor.” His mother was talking so quietly that Jack had to strain to hear her words. “Flo’s been wounded. She’s in the hospital.”

Jack felt as if a brick had hit him in the stomach. “Is she going to be all right?”

His dad took over. “They didn’t say much. Just that her injuries are being treated and…she’s in critical condition.”

“What happened? Was the hospital hit?”

“We don’t know,” said his ­dad.

“I kept thinking of her last letter where she said she had enjoyed her leave by the sea. She was looking forward to going hiking with friends.” His mother was gripping her lace hankie as if it was a life ­preserver.

“Yeah,” said Jack. Maybe Flo had really been shipped out to a field hospital as he had suspected when he read that bit of news. Could you get wounded in a hospital in England? He tried to concentrate on the ­conversation.

“Remember, she said all sorts of military bands were on parade. And that she thought her dad would have liked it, seeing as he’d played the saxophone.” Bill stretched his feet out in front and rubbed his hands along the sides of his ­trousers.

“She thanked me for the music lessons,” Ivy ­said.

Did Flo think she wouldn’t have another chance? Jack asked ­himself.

“Flo will be all right,” said Jack. “She’s made of tough stuff.”

“Time will tell.” Ivy sighed and rose as slowly as an old woman. “I’m going home.”

“I’ll help Jack unload.”

“Don’t throw your back out any worse than it is,” Ivy said over her shoulder. “Jack, you lift the heavy stuff.” Then she was ­gone.

Jack drove the truck behind the store and his dad opened the storeroom door. They unloaded quickly. Then his dad opened two root beers and they sat back down on the ­porch.

“How was your day, Jack?”

Jack told his father all the funny and not-so-funny things that had happened at the base and in Moose ­Jaw.

“Holy cow!”

Jack smiled briefly. “That ought to give you enough stories for a week, Dad. Except maybe you better not tell them.”

“Probably not.” Bill sighed and stretched his long legs in front of him again, stared at his shoes. “Do you think Flo was near the front lines?”

“I think that’s what her letter was hinting.”

“I’m glad your mother didn’t make the connections.”

“You and Flo and I were always the ones for puzzles.”

“We will be again, Jack.” Bill stood up. “Shall we go home?”

“I’ve got a couple of questions. But if it’s not the right time…”

“I’m not going to sleep, anyway, so shoot.”

Jack hesitated. He didn’t want to upset his dad any more than he was, but his need to understand his family was stronger than his ­worry.

“How did Uncle Jack die? The guy at the wholesalers knew more about it than I did. I’m not a kid anymore.”

“No, you’re not, Jack.” His dad sat down again. There was a longer silence than usual. Bill seemed to be gathering himself together to make a statement. “I’ve been trying to find the right words, the right time to tell you this story. It’s not easy to talk ­about.

“Every family has a few things they don’t talk about. Some tragedy or sadness, some unresolved problem they don’t want seen. Families have a hard enough time dealing with living in a small town, being a member of a particular family, having one or another of their family members act other than ‘normal.’”

Jack rubbed his sore jaw. He knew what it was like living in Cairn, being a Waters. He had a reminder of that. He drained his soda ­pop.

Jack’s dad walked down the steps of the store and crossed Railway Avenue to the rail yard. “Your Uncle Jack, my big brother, came home from the Great War in one piece. He flew with Wop May, the famous Alberta bush pilot, you know.” Jack put the two empty root beer bottles in the wooden crate by the door and caught up with his ­dad.

“His body was fine,” Bill Waters continued. “But my brother was always a moody guy, even as a boy. He was energetic, musical, talented, not as outgoing as me. He was the family charmer. I was the joker. Our dad made a lot of him. He was so proud.”

“Then he met Mom,” Jack ­said.

“Jack and Ivy made a great couple. It was a love match from the first date.”

“Where were you?”

“I got a job right after high school as a traveller. I had southern Alberta and Saskatchewan as my territory and I loved the open road – visiting schools, factories and businesses, selling cleaning products. I was West Chemicals’ top salesman. I knew where all the best pickles, Ukrainian sausage and pyrogies were sold, where the best cheese was made. And I’d bring them home to my father and mother.”

Bill wandered along beside the train tracks with Jack beside him until he came to the level crossing with its ­criss-­crossed white warning ­signs.

“No one knows for sure whether it was an accident or suicide.”

Jack stood with his hands in his pockets, listening to the sound of an approaching freight. He felt a slight hum from the track beneath his feet. He stepped back a few paces onto the gravel ­approach.

“Jack had never been a drinker before the war. When he came home he was. He’d never been a loudmouth. In 1919 he was. It was like he was ashamed of surviving. He’d lived and his best friends had died. But something inside him had died. The whole family went into shock. We tried to cover up for him, tried to protect Ivy. After all, he was a war hero, a pilot. He was my brother. And they were expecting a baby, for God’s sake.”

Bill took a deep breath. “One night Jack didn’t come home from Moose Jaw. Dad went out looking for him. As he backed his truck onto the street he heard the midnight express from Regina to Calgary blow its warning whistle. There were screaming brakes, shouting trainmen and a loud bang.”

Jack gulped a lungful of air. The night train pulled through town, wheels clicking against the track. Its dark form, like a ghost train, cut off the view of the other side of the ­road.

“He was killed instantly, Doc said. Jack’s buried beside Grandma and Grandpa. Everyone in town has their own theory about what happened that night, but they’ve learned to keep it to themselves. We all have.”

“I’m sorry.”

“We should have told you sooner. But I was raised in a family that didn’t talk about personal things. I don’t know anything about the Waters family before my dad. Sometimes I think I tell stories to make up for the stories I never heard and the one story I can’t talk about. Does that sound stupid?”

Jack touched his dad’s arm. “No.”

“Good. I’d hate to think you thought your old man was stupid. Can you believe it, my dad and the teacher wanted me to go to university? I went for one year just to please them and flunked out. I don’t think it was lack of brains. I just couldn’t imagine sitting still, reading books all day, writing papers, studying for exams for four years.”

Jack chuckled. That was where he and his dad differed. He could hardly wait for the challenge. He’d design a safer plane – safer and faster – one with a ­self-­starting propeller and no way for it to land on top of another ­kite.

“Ivy was alone with that wee baby. I came home and saw the lay of the land. It wasn’t hard to fall in love with the most talented musician in the district. I was tired of sowing my wild oats anyway.”

Jack discovered he had a lump in his throat the size of a golf ball. He didn’t say ­anything.

“Losing a brother is really hard, Jack. I’m glad you’ll never have to go through that.”

“Sandy was like an older brother,” whispered Jack. “But I didn’t know him my whole life.”

The man and boy walked down the dark street together. Bill locked up the store but left the truck parked as it was. Crickets sang. An owl hooted. A bunch of coyotes howled in the distance. The smell of dew, fresh cut grass and watered flowers drifted toward them. They let themselves in the house and went to ­bed.

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In his room Jack found his latest model airplane smashed on the floor. He’d left the window open and there’d been a stiff breeze earlier. He picked it up and put it on his desk in the corner. He’d have to repair it ­tomorrow.

The good news was, it was easily ­fixed.

Jack lay for a long time going over the whole day, the whole of his family history. Trust Dad to give him the straight goods. For an older guy he was pretty sharp. Why did knowing the facts make Jack feel better? He said a little prayer under his breath for Flo and Sandy and his mother and went to ­sleep.

He dreamt of flying high in a ­brand-­new ­single-­wing airplane all the way to England to save his ­sister.

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The next day at the flying school the usual gang said goodbye to Cheese. Cathy hugged him. Jack and Wes shook his hand. Dexter, Trevor and Basil were in class. Cheese tried his best to grin and be a good sport. “Thanks for everything,” he said. “Tallyho and all that.” But the poor guy’s face crumpled worse than the wing of Jack’s model after it had fallen. None of them knew how to ­help.

Cheese marched off toward the ­h-­hut with his head held high and his shoulders ­square.