MEG DID NOT EXPECT A REPLY by return of post, though she hoped for it and came home from work each day looking first to the hall table where her letters would be placed. She had told Alice and Jacques that Deputy Chief O’Mara had informed her of finding Randolph’s murderer but disguised from them her hope of receiving more letters from him. The days gathered into weeks and Meg’s hope turned into disappointment then depressing resignation. She concluded that Mick wanted all or nothing. He was not a man who had time or inclination for intimate correspondence.
Ike’s spirit drooped as he worried over Meg. Observing the behaviour of the pack surrounding her, Ike’s disgust with people was renewed. “A strong male will go to the female,” he muttered and muttered, inaudibly, in her ear.
Through the dark winter nights and cold spring rains of that long year, Meg locked herself in the library, after reading bedtime stories to her niece and nephews. She did the business accounts and read to herself. She re-read “Ike’s Working Wolves” and old novels. Anything to distract her from loneliness and the scenes with Alice and Jacques.
Alice feared she was pregnant again. “Just my luck,” she complained when Meg came into the drawing room after bathing the children. Jacques was slumped in the corner of the couch, trying to keep his eyelids up. Alice was hemming children’s clothes. “Other wives have years between children,” she said. “I never get a break. I get caught every time.”
Meg hated being brought into matters which should have been private between Alice and Jacques, particularly when both parties were present. But Alice relished it, counting on Meg to back her up. Meg tried to deflect her this time with humour. “No rest for the wicked, I guess.”
“Not funny, Meg! All very well for you, who have nothing to worry about.”
“Hold it,” said Jacques. “Meg’s a businesswoman. She’s got plenty to worry about these days. Same as me.”
“Yes, well at least Meg doesn’t come home drunk every day.”
“Alice!” said Meg. “What good does it do to say something like that!”
“It’s the truth,” said Alice. “He drinks so much before he gets in the door, he’s lurching and tumbling about like a clown with the children. It’s a wonder he doesn’t topple over onto them.”
“Alice! Jacques is here in front of us. You talk as though …”
“I’m gone,” Jacques stood up, wavering slightly as he stepped towards the door. “Absent,” he said, “just the way you like me.”
Alice laughed. “See what I mean? Lurching.”
Jacques turned around. “What do you want, woman? This?” He got down on the floor, lay on his back, put his hands and feet in the air and said, “Dead dog. Is that what you want? Want me to roll over now?”
Meg was too appalled to speak. Herbie, upstairs in his crib, began to cry.
“Oh get up, Jacques,” said Alice. “You’re being pathetic. I’ll be dead long before you. I’m the one who has to keep bearing children.”
“Stop it!” Meg shouted as she went over to help Jacques to his feet.
“I won’t have this. Not in my house.”
Little George and Victoria could be seen through the doorway with their heads poking through the stair railing.
“Now we have it,” said Alice rising to her feet, children’s clothes bundled in her arms. “We are about to be evicted. From my sister’s house.”
Victoria began to wail. George ran into the room and clung to his father’s leg.
“No one is being evicted,” said Meg, going to pick up Victoria and bring her into the room, soothing her. “I’m just asking for civilized behaviour. Jacques would you please put the children in their beds while I talk to Alice?”
Meg closed the drawing room door while Jacques led the children upstairs to the nursery. Now it was Alice who slumped into the corner of the couch, her arms folded across her chest. Meg sat down beside her.
“Well?” said Alice.
“I don’t know, Alice. What more can I do? Can’t you just be glad of your children? Mother wasn’t miserable with eight.”
“Oh yes she was.”
“She was not. Well, not all the time. And she was nice to Dad. She didn’t blame him. You blame Jacques for being a normal man.”
“And a poor provider.”
“Oh stop it. You live more comfortably than most.”
“Thanks to you, I’m supposed to say.”
“I never ask you to say that. It’s Jacques who pays for all the food and necessities.”
“And what am I? The household servant?”
“You’re a normal woman doing normal things.”
“And you think you’re the Queen of Sheba.”
Meg stood up. “Apologize. Apologize for saying that.”
Alice stood up. “I won’t! Why should I! I’m leaving. I’m leaving, right now.” She stalked out of the room towards the front door.
Jacques came running down the stairs. “Alice, don’t. Come back. You are needed …”
Alice hesitated, then opened and slammed the door behind her. Jacques looked appealingly at Meg, then followed Alice out onto the front path. Meg watched Jacques pursue Alice, pull her back, put his arm around her, lead her back up onto the verandah, sit with her on the wicker love seat. Meg went upstairs to comfort and reassure George and Victoria, who were whimpering at the top of the stairs, and Herbie, who was crying as he grabbed the rails of his crib.
When Alice came back into the house, she assumed the air of the victimized, not speaking to Meg for several days, then finally speaking with remote politeness, until she felt it was sufficiently established that Meg was in the wrong. A couple of weeks later, Alice discovered that she was not pregnant, which made her happier for a while but not less pessimistic about her prospects in life, compared to certain others. Jacques stopped coming home from work lurching, but took to spending some late nights at a tavern where he could pay for the use of a woman and drown his dreams in drink, for a while.
Meg gave up on trying to be comfortable in her own home and took to her bicycle and evening walks on the cliff side, overlooking the ocean.
Meg sat near the edge of the cliff, watching the waves lap upon the beach below and the sun sink into the ocean. Cuesey, a mournful-looking hound from her kennels, lay beside her. Here I am, driven out of my own home, Meg said to herself. And Jean thinks I’m the Alpha female! Meg tried to find that funny but could not. She was heavily depressed. She seriously considered her situation. Would they all be better off without me? If I just jumped off this cliff into the waves … Would Alice be happy if I left her and Jacques the house and business? The children …
Meg pictured it happening. Her not coming home. The search for her. Finding her bicycle. Police searching for her drowned corpse. The fear and terror in the minds of the little children. They would miss her. They would have to grow up imagining her death and why she did it …
“No! What am I thinking!” Meg spoke out, clasping both sides of her head.
Cuesey sat up, yapped in alarm. Ike’s spirit fluttered and bounced about in panic. He shouted and yanked at Meg’s shoulders, grabbed her with his insubstantial hands.
“Stop this!” Meg rebuked herself out loud. “I’ve got to get away. Away from these terrible thoughts. Away!” She got herself up and moved back from the cliff ’s edge. She turned and grabbed her bicycle. Cuesey barked decisively and fled home with her, long ears flapping in the wind. Ike rode upon her shoulders.
Meg made herself a hot milk with rum and went straight to bed to reckon with herself.
It’s my job to alleviate suffering, not to add to it, she reprimanded herself. There is no way of killing myself that would not leave a horrible scene, a corpse to be identified, unanswered questions, guilt, suffering for my family, a terrible example for all.
She thought again of how helpful Mick had been when she had to cope with the corpse of Randolph. Mick was a kind man. Was she misinterpreting his not responding to her letter? Perhaps he had not received it. It was not just loneliness she was suffering, but a sense of unspoken rejection. And the awful unhappiness in this house …
“I do need to get away,” she concluded quietly, out loud. “But in a civilized and kind manner. Prepare for it properly.”
She would send another letter to Mick, asking if he had received the first, hoping that he did want friendship, at least, also hoping he did want to see her again. And she would take that train trip she had wanted to take for so long. Travel across the country, from one coast to the other. See it all. Carry on up to the north, the land of ice and snow, where there were no horses, only dogs. Dogs that looked like wolves. Ike and Piji’s dogs, pulling sleds. Working dogs that could use a good vet. Dogs for company. And dogs would be her children if she couldn’t find a suitable man to have a family with.
Meg began thinking of who might take over The Humane Way and who might do the books for Clean Sweepers. She would write letters of her adventures to her niece and nephews. She would become the interesting, adventurous aunt who inspired and entertained the children. Not the one who threw herself off the cliff in a time of despair.
Meg felt some lightness of being, some of her old strength and determination return. A distance developed between her and the complaints of Alice now that she had a secret resolution to the situation. She confided it to Jean Atkins.
“Oh dear,” said Jean. “I will miss you awfully. And so will all the dogs and cats and pet birds of Halifax. You will return, won’t you?”
“Maybe with a whole new breed of dogs.” Meg smiled. “But while I’m gone, I need someone to do the accounts at Clean Sweepers. I trust Jacques to manage the business but I need someone, a trusted friend, someone who taught me how to add and subtract, someone who has kept the books for a medical doctor and so could handle mine. She would be well-paid …”
“To keep an eye on the assets, in your absence.” Jean laughed. “Someone outside the family, eh? Hmmmm …”
Meg telephoned the principal at her vet college in Montreal, asking if he would advertise the lease of her veterinary clinic amongst the graduating class.
“Mrs. Oliphant, your business is already the talk of the college,” he said. “And your ‘Humane Way’ has corrupted our teaching practices ever since you were here. We have, as yet, no other female graduates but I’m sure we will, now that you have opened the gates and even have an established business for lease. I expect you will have many applicants for it. Will you accept them if they are male?” Principal McEachran could not repress a small chuckle.
Meg interviewed several candidates who wanted her business. She chose the one who was willing to maintain the name and employ her assistant, Ardiss Arpin, whom Meg said had taught her a thing or two about handling difficult animals and people.
When the deal was completed, with rent in advance, Meg told Jacques and Alice of her plan. “I want to have everything in order,” she said in conclusion, “so I can leave in July.”
“I knew something was up,” said Alice, who had stared intently at Meg while she spoke.
“You’ve sure caught me by surprise” said Jacques pushing back his hair. “But whoa, Meg! I don’t think you should do this. It’s not safe for a woman to travel across the country on her own. I’m not sure I can run the business without you …”
“Of course you can!” Alice interjected. “And why hire an accountant? I could learn to do the books. Just as you did. How about hiring some household help instead?”
“Jean Atkins will see to the books,” said Meg, firmly.
“The kids will miss you so much …” said Jacques.
With her plans in place, Meg felt she had the dignity and strength to write again to Mick.
Dear Deputy Chief of Police, … Mick, if I may,
That is how I began my letter, in response to yours, of May 5th. Can you please let me know if you received my letter, for I have received no reply.
Perhaps you are now chief of police, or married. Perhaps both, in which case I wish you very well and understand why you would not want to continue any correspondence and friendship with me. I am finding it very awkward to write this letter, and so I will make it short, sparing you and myself further embarrassment. In mid-July I shall take the train west to Vancouver and make my way north to the Yukon, where I hope to practice for a while with the sled dogs which I have long taken interest in. This is an adventure which I feel I must embark upon now, or never.
If you wish to meet again or correspond I would be very glad of that and send you my particulars when I know them.
Yours very sincerely,
Meg
Again Meg hoped for a quick reply, but nothing came by return of post. She began to worry that Mick had come to harm and she would have her letter returned “deceased.” She occupied herself with final preparations for departure. She would take a load of brooms, whisks, and clothes brushes to be shown as samples from Clean Sweepers.
“Why not drum up business across the nation?” she said to Jacques. “With the ease and speed of train travel we could ship anywhere.”
“Good idea,” said Jacques. “But I worry about all this. And the kiddies are all upset at your leaving.”
“I know. But I’ve told them I’ll be back and there’ll be letters, a phone call whenever possible, and I have a plan for the day I leave.”
“What’s that?” said Alice, whose spirits had improved since she was going to be mistress of Meg’s house and have the income from their rented home for an extended period. She had already hired cleaning help and bought a new dress. But she remained resentful of the fact that Meg had hired Jean Atkins to manage the business accounts.
“I’ve found a Labrador retriever pup to give to the kids on the morning of my departure,” Meg replied. “That should cheer them up. I’ll suggest they call it Meggs”
Jacques smiled. “They’ll love it. You think of everything, Meg.”
“And couldn’t be more generous,” said Alice as though she were reciting a line. They looked at her. “I mean it,” said Alice. “What makes you think I don’t?”
“Nothing,” said Meg. “Thanks for the … compliment.”
Jacques looked perturbed.
“Jacques thinks you’re being nudged out of your own home,” said Alice. “Thinks it’s because of my complaining. But I think you’re just doing what you’ve always wanted to do. Travel. Go to theatres across the country, just like Pauline Johnson, whom you admire so much. Except you don’t have to perform. You’ve got enough money to just travel. Wish I could …”
“Alice!” Jacques shouted then closed the salon door so the children couldn’t hear.
“What?” Meg bristled. “You wish you could be like me, Alice? Would you really, would you really want to be alone, without your children and your husband?”
Alice smiled tight-lipped, eyebrows raised.
“Don’t say it!” Meg leapt to her feet. “No one wants to hear it.”
“I don’t intend to.” Alice folded her arms over her chest and leaned back on the sofa. “I’m not half as stupid, or complaining, as you think I am.”
“I don’t …” Meg started, but decided to give it up. “I’m going to say good night to the kids.”
“The perfect aunt,” said Alice when Meg was in the hall. “Easier than perfect mother.”
The week before she was to leave, Meg heard the phone ring late in the night. She felt paralyzed as she heard Jacques rush downstairs to answer it, then say, “Yes, sir. I’ll bring her to the phone.” The dreadful silence until Jacques knocked on her door and said, “Meg, Deputy Chief O’Mara wants to talk to you. No bad news, he said.”
Jacques went back upstairs and closed Alice’s door then his own, behind him.
“I’m sorry to call so late,” said Mick. “It’s the only time I have some privacy here. Just got back today from some bad business I had to tend to in New York. I have your letter in front of me. Meg, I must see you. If only to apologize.”
“For what?” Words tumbled out before Meg could get hold of them. “Oh Mick, I’ve been so worried. I can’t believe I’m hearing your voice!”
“You should have heard it all those months ago. I should have written. But every time I tried, I didn’t know how to begin. Never felt so stumped in all my life. Couldn’t see a solution. You with your work there, me with mine here. The cases keep coming in and I bury myself in them until they’re solved. That’s what I did. Buried myself like a coward. Felt so bad. Didn’t know what to say to you. Hopelessly stumped. And listen to me blatherin’ on about it now. Over the phone! Can I come to see you, Meg?”
“I can get away Wednesday. Have to be back for the weekend, when people do their worst. Nothing like the weekend to bring out human nature.”
Wednesday, Meg hovered near the door.
“Expecting someone?” said Alice.
“You know I am,” Meg snapped, in no mood to be drawn in by Alice.
“Mick O’Mara, Deputy Chief of Police in Boston,” said Alice. “Sounds like a good catch to me. And deputy usually becomes chief, doesn’t he?”
“Alice!”
“Meg!” Alice put her hands on her hips, imitating Meg. “You never will take advice from your ‘little sister,’ will you?”
“What is your advice?”
“Deputy Chief O’Mara doesn’t come all this way for chit chat. You will have to choose between him and your ‘adventure.’ Which will you choose?”
“Your advice is … ?”
“Well, I’m sure there are dogs to be doctored in Boston. They have working police dogs, don’t they? And if you’re in love with this stranger, and you’re certainly acting like you are … I have never seen you so … agitated.”
“Alice, what is your advice?”
“Have your adventure first, or you’ll regret it the rest of your life. Have your family later. Mother had me when she was over forty.” Alice turned away then faced Meg again. “There! And you don’t think I really care about you. I’ll keep the kids out of the way when he arrives.”
Mick O’Mara arrived at the door in civilian clothes. Meg opened it.
“Mr. O’Mara!” said Meg, knowing Alice was hovering in the background. “I’m very pleased to see you. Do come in.” She extended her hand. Mick took her hand and held on for more than a handshake. “This is my sister, Alice Benoit, and …” Meg extended her other hand towards them, “children.”
Mick let go of Meg’s hand. “Mrs. Benoit.” He bowed to her then reached out to the children. “Lads.” He shook each small hand. “And Lass.” They stood dumbfounded.
“You are highly regarded in this household, Deputy Chief O’Mara,” said Alice, smiling. “Welcome! Now, if you’ll excuse me, the children and I have things to do.” As she backed them into the kitchen, Herbie could be heard saying, “He doesn’t look like a policeman.”
“Shall we go into the library?” said Meg, walking towards it.
Once inside, with the door closed, Mick stood before her.
“I’ve come all this way, rehearsing lines, and now I don’t know what to say, other than … we have so little time before …” He looked at the floor. He put his hat on the table and looked at her seriously. “I won’t, I couldn’t, hold you back. You’re more, even more, unusual and desirable than ever. May I …” He stepped towards her. “… just hold you?”
Meg held her arms out to him. He caught her up in an embrace, hesitated, then kissed her. And she him. They sat down together.
“What can we do?” he asked, practically. “I have my job in Boston and you have this … mission … way the hell up on the other side of the continent.”
Meg could hear Alice chasing after the children who had escaped into the hall and were running towards the library.
“We are about to be invaded.” She stood up. “How about a ride into the countryside? Do you know how to cycle? Or shall we take the horse and buggy?”
“Sure an’ I can cycle. But horse and buggy would be more comfortable.”
“I’ll make a picnic.”
The children clamoured around as they made their way to the kitchen.
“Ever had a ride on a policeman’s shoulders?” said Mick.
They drove out into the countryside, Mick taking the reins, letting the horse know they were eager to get away from onlookers. Outside of town he relaxed and put his hand on Meg’s.
“What can you tell me about those clubs in Boston?” asked Meg.
“Not much.” He looked at her. “I don’t frequent them voluntarily.”
“What do you like to do, when you’re not working? When you’re on your own?”
“I go fishing when I want to get away from people.” He inched closer to her. “I have my own little boat. And I like to read. Do you?”
“Oh yes. Who’s your favourite author?”
“Can’t say, off the bat.” Mick paused to consider. “I’ve always enjoyed Dickens. And you can’t beat Mark Twain for humour, with a point to it.”
“What about Oscar Wilde?”
“Too wisecracking. Not my way of thinking.” He turned to Meg. “How am I doing in this interrogation?”
“Just fine.” She smiled. “What do you do for company?”
“I fiddle.” He smiled at Meg. “I’m the great Uncle Fiddler. Play at all the family gatherings. Play in my favourite Irish pub. Get a lot of drinks for free.”
“Tell me what’s wrong with you?” Meg took the crook of his arm with her two hands and yanked gently. “I need to know.”
“I had a misspent youth.” He slowed the horse and spoke seriously. “I got my young girlfriend in trouble. Her mother took her away for a time. And somewhere in Ireland a baby was put into an orphanage because of me. No one would tell me where. It’s an ‘unsolved’ that will always bother me. Maybe I should go back and try to solve it, but I’m not sure of the good it would do. And I’m always working on some big case in Boston. Sure an’ I couldn’t leave your case unsolved.” He smiled grimly at Meg. “They say that about me. I’m a man who can’t leave a case unsolved.”
“What a terrible fault!” Meg entwined her arm with his. “But you took two days away from a case to visit me?”
“Then we mustn’t waste a moment.”
They picnicked in the evening on Meg’s favourite cliff overlooking the ocean. Watched the sun set. Talked and embraced in an un-Victorian manner. They went down to the beach and built a fire. Cooled themselves off with a swim in the ocean. The picnic cloth was their towel. Picnic and horse blankets their bed, as they watched the summer moon rise over them and heard the calm ocean lapping onto the land. Meg learned what it was like to make love with a man who was only a man, was careful not to get her in trouble, and left her feeling … “Spent!” said Meg, smiling. “I feel completely spent.”
“Will you be condemned for spending the night out with me?” Mick stroked her.
“Undoubtedly,” said Meg, “But I can’t imagine ever regretting this night.”
They awoke with the rising of the sun and lingered until it was time to go back to the city for breakfast at the train station café. Meg didn’t mind that the waitress was obviously speculating as to why Mrs. Oliphant was breakfasting at the station with this stranger. Meg smiled with her secret pleasure at everyone she encountered. But as they stood together on the train platform, the pain of parting gripped and twisted inside her.
“I would try to change your mind about this dog business,” said Mick. “But I’ve got too much respect for your mind. And your person.”
“Thank you,” said Meg, refraining from exhibiting her natural feelings publicly. “I feel the same about you and your police business.” She tried to smile. “This parting is very hard to bear. But, you are a man who must serve justice and I, the animals.”
He could not refrain from pulling her tightly to him. “I love you.” His lips touched her ear. “You’d be amazed at what a man will do for the woman he wants.”
“I plan to be at Hotel Vancouver in August,” said Meg. “You could reach me there by letter. You will let me know when your current case is solved, won’t you?”