DEC WAS IN his room when the family arrived back at Camelot. He crossed the hall to the master bedroom and from the window watched his father carry Sunny, asleep on his shoulder, into the house, while Birdie collected shopping bags from the hatch of the Rendezvous. She noticed him at the window and waved, but she raised her eyebrows in a way that made him nervous. He was back at his desk when his father poked his head in at the door a few minutes later. With books all around him, it looked like he was hard at it.
“How goes the battle?” said his father.
Dec looked at the array of work before him. “I don’t know,” he said. “I think it’s Homework three, Dec no score.”
His father smiled. “Know the feeling.” He looked weary and a little worried.
“Is Sunny okay?”
“She may need a hearing aid,” his father said. “They’re going to do some more tests.” He paused. “How about you, Dec? Are you okay?”
Dec shifted in his seat. “No,” he said.
His father stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. Dec swivelled in his chair to face him. His father leaned against the wall. He cleared his throat.
“Just as we were coming through Cupar we passed a tow truck,” said his father. “It looked like he was hauling your friend’s Toyota.”
“Right,” said Dec. “Ezra was over.”
His father waited, but Dec said no more. “There was quite a mess out on the highway,” said his father, “over by the old road. Looked like someone went in the ditch.” Dec nodded. “I got out to look. There were car tracks right down into the bush.” Dec nodded again. Maybe he wouldn’t have to say much of anything. Maybe his father would just keep following the tracks all the way back to the House of Memory.
His father crossed his arms on his chest. “You want to tell me what’s going on?”
Dec looked down at his desk. Where to start?
“There was no full moon the night Mom left.”
His father looked perplexed. “Excuse me?”
“The night Mom left,” said Dec, raising his voice. Then, remembering his little sister sleeping down the hall, he lowered it again. “I don’t understand why you would lie to me about that. Then there’s the postcards and —”
“Whoa,” said his father. “You’re losing me.”
But Dec couldn’t hold on any more. “Talk to me,” he said.
His father shoved his hands in his pockets. He looked old, suddenly, defeated. He gestured with his head towards the door. “Not here,” he said. “I don’t want to wake up Sunny.”
Birdie passed them in the front hall. She was holding a cup of tea.
“Cheers,” she said. Neither of them responded. They clumped down to the rec room.
“Sit,” said Bernard, pointing at his favourite armchair.
“I’m not a dog,” said Dec.
“Please,” said his father wearily. “Have a seat.”
So here they were again. And Dec wondered if this was how it would be from now on, the two of them convening in the rec room to try to hammer out a past they could both live with.
“There was a full moon, Dec,” he said. And before Dec could raise his voice in complaint, he held up his hand. “Please, listen. I can explain. There was a full moon. But it wasn’t really Lindy’s birthday.”
Dec groaned.
“It’s true. She didn’t want a party on November first,” his father continued. “She didn’t want to be turning twenty-nine. She said, ‘Twenty-nine, just means you’re in your thirtieth year.’ And she couldn’t bear the thought that she was turning thirty. That her life was…well, the way it was.”
Bernard cracked his knuckles. “So I abided by her wishes,” he said, without looking up. “Her real birthday on November first came and went without a word.”
“So what about the cake and the candles and the night with the girls?”
“That was a couple of weeks later, November sixteenth, to be precise.”
Dec’s eyes opened wide. “That’s Birdie’s birthday.”
“Right. Birdie’s birthday. It was Birdie who talked your mother into having a shared birthday celebration.”
November sixteenth, thought Dec. Two days after the full moon. “Is that really what happened?”
“Go ask Birdie.”
Dec was going to, but not right now. It wasn’t just the moon that was out of whack.
“You know how Lindy could be, Declan. She had a very mobile mind.” His father managed a watery smile. “Here it is, two weeks later, and suddenly she wants a family party as well, a cake, the whole nine yards. Just like I said.”
Dec leaned back stiffly in the armchair. He didn’t know whether to feel relieved or cheated. Meanwhile, his father seemed lost in thought. “I’ve been thinking about that boat you made. Your mom always used to prompt you about special events: birthdays, Mother’s Day, St. Patrick’s Day — anything and everything. Do you remember?” Dec guessed maybe he did.
“She would count down the days on the calendar, tease you about making her something. She’d hint at what she wanted. ‘Boy, oh, boy, I sure could do with a new ashtray,’ she’d say. Things like that. You were always game.” His smile broadened, then it faded. “But after the baby, Lindy kind of lost interest. The doctor said she was suffering from severe postpartum depression. I thought there was probably more to it than that, but I tried to tread lightly. Her birthday came and went without fanfare.
“Then, out of the blue, two weeks later, kaboom! There would have been no time for you to make her anything. And you were so proud of the things you made her. You were so industrious. Still are.” He paused and smiled, but Dec wasn’t in the market for compliments. “I guess you must have made that boat later,” his father said. “The day after, perhaps? Maybe you were hoping to surprise her when she got back. You didn’t know she wasn’t coming back.”
How could some memories be so elusive? How come there were memories you could unwrap and see every facet, every moment, while others remained hidden?
“Why didn’t you tell me this the other day?”
His father raised his hands in defeat. “About the moon? It didn’t occur to me. I didn’t realize it was a test.”
Dec folded his arms and squeezed tight. He wasn’t sure what to say.
“Dec, give me a break here. It was awful when she left. I’m sure I wasn’t very attentive to your needs. There was a lot of stomping around, a lot of teary bedtimes.” His father leaned towards him, his hands on his knees. “Somehow we all got through it.”
Dec swallowed the lump in his throat. “There’s something else.”
“The postcards?”
“The postcards.”
His father stared at him with a look that seemed equal parts astonishment and admiration. “I sent those cards. But I get the feeling you already know that.”
“Why?”
“Isn’t it obvious?”
Dec felt a twinge of frustration. “If it was obvious, I wouldn’t be asking.”
His father sighed. “At first, when she left, I told you she was taking a break. A little holiday. I had to. I didn’t know what else to do. I think I half believed it myself. Wanted to, anyway. I was hoping if she had a bit of time to herself she’d come back. Then when the weeks passed without so much as a word, and you were so despondent, I felt I had to do something.”
His father looked wistful. “It was stupid, I guess. But it seemed to help. I felt guilty about it, but I didn’t want you to think that she could have just gone like that without a word.”
An uneasy silence settled between them. Dec wagged his head back and forth, back and forth. It was all so easy. His father had an answer for everything. And when those answers turned out to be false, there was a whole new set, all freshly painted to look just like the truth.
His father glanced at his watch, and Dec felt a surge of anger, as if all of what he had been saying was some kind of teenage blather to be waited out. And Dec was just about to call him on it, when he realized he had never seen this watch before.
“That’s not the watch you broke,” he said.
His father followed his gaze and then held the watch up for Dec’s inspection. “No, it’s my father’s old Waltham,” he said. “It disappeared years ago and then it suddenly turned up. I had a new strap put on it, but otherwise it works like a charm.”
Dec stared at the watch. It was gold and square-shaped with a decorative leaf pattern carved into the shoulders. The face was plain — everything about it was plain — but for the scratches in the glass.
“What do you mean it just turned up?” His voice was snappish, as if the watch was yet another lie. But his father didn’t seem to notice. In fact, he was gazing at the watch fondly.
“It turned up in Runyon’s loot, although I have no idea where he found it. God, I had looked everywhere for this beauty.” He was shaking his head with wonder. “See the greenish tinge in the abrasions?” Dec leaned closer. He nodded. “That’s residue from a smoke canister that exploded in my father’s face. He wore this watch into battle on D-Day. There were these smoke canisters on the carrier they used for signalling advances to the troops. One of them burst open and my dad was in the line of fire.” He looked up at Dec, his eyes eager. “My father landed on Juno Beach completely green from head to foot,” he said. “Can you imagine that?”
Dec peered at his father. It was as if their entire conversation was forgotten now that he was safely back in the past. None of what I’m saying makes any difference to him, thought Dec. This old watch matters more to him than I do. His father was unstrapping it now, handing it to him for closer inspection, and Dec felt the anger boil up in him. He felt an impulse to take the watch from his father and fling it across the room, smash it.
But suddenly time stopped.
He saw the watch in his father’s fist, saw it glinting gold, and he remembered where he had seen it before. In a dead man’s claw-like grasp.
“What is it?” his father asked.
Dec took the watch, shaking his head.
“Nothing,” he said, handing it back immediately, not wanting to hold it.
His father strapped it back on his wrist. “It’s not valuable — well, not to anyone but me, I guess.” He sighed. “I once accused Lindy of stealing it just to make me angry. She knew how much I loved this thing. She insisted I had just lost it.”
Dec went cold all over. He stared at his father, trying to sort the man out, and trying to sort out thoughts that were racing every which way.
“That woman,” said his father. “I swear, she could drive a man to desperate lengths.” He looked across the shadowy room. They had turned on only the nearest lamp. His father seemed to be trying to make out things outside of their little circle of light. “It’s funny,” he said. “You asked me if I ever think about her. I do, now and then. I wonder if she made it to wherever she was heading.” He paused, looked down. There was a spot of grey paint on his trousers. He rubbed at it. “The big house is the only place she’s still alive for me any more. Sometimes I actually think I hear her, laughing in another room or playing her guitar.” Dec glanced up. “Really?”
His father had an amused look on his face. “She had this fool whistle.”
“I know!” said Dec, a little shocked. “I’ve heard it. Or, I mean, I thought I did. She’d just blow it in your face.” For a moment the boy and the man stared at each other in astonishment.
“You want to know something?” said his father. He was staring so hard at Dec, it was almost frightening. “After she left — I mean, after I knew she wasn’t coming back — I tried to find her.”
Dec sat up straighter in his chair. It was as if, without ever knowing it, this was what he had wanted to hear.
“You went after her?”
His father shook his head. “I hired a private investigator.”
Dec stared at his father in disbelief. “A private eye?”
“Yep.”
It seemed so unreal and yet he knew, looking into his father’s eyes, that this, at least, was true. And whatever else he thought, he loved his father for it. For at least trying.
“But he didn’t have any luck,” said Dec hesitantly.
His father’s eyes grew large. “Oh, he found her, all right,” he said. “It took him a few months. I guess it would have been early September. She was down in Hamilton.” He paused and his voice was hesitant when he continued. “Runyon was there.”
Dec held his breath. “With her?”
His father nodded. “They were living together.” He seemed to have trouble saying the words. “I’m not sure why I’m telling you this.”
“Because I want to know,” said Dec. He had not realized how thirsty he was to know something — to know anything.
“It’s a closed book, really,” said his father, his face falling.
“Tell me!” Dec demanded. It came out as a shout. “What happened?”
His father scratched his brow. “I made a fool of myself.” He managed a mirthless little laugh. “Don’t know what I was thinking. I just wanted her back. Told her I’d change.”
“You saw her?”
“I went down there, down to Hamilton, to this squalid little apartment they were shacking up in. I waited until Runyon was out. I pleaded with her. Told her we’d travel, see the world. Anything she wanted.” He looked squarely at Dec. There was a tear in his eye. “After everything,” he said, his voice ragged and small. “Almost a whole year later — after everything she had done, I was still nuts about her.”
Dec reached out to touch his father, but his hand never made it. There was a loud crash behind them. They both spun around. Birdie was standing in the doorway to the rec room, her teacup shattered on the linoleum.