“So, how was the concert?”
Ernie’s deep voice said, “It was pretty good, John. I assume you’re calling for Reenie?”
“Well, I thought I’d save myself some trouble and call sooner rather than later.”
“Wise man.” John heard Ernie call Irene to the phone. “Do me a favour though? Don’t ask her to punch me on the arm again for you. She packs a pretty good wallop.”
“Hey, I expected she’d give you a love tap, not a bruise.”
“You’re forgiven.”
“Good, I don’t know if I can take you. I haven’t been slinging stone all summer so I’m getting a bit soft.”
Ernie snorted. “That’ll be the day, when you can take me.”
“I’ll let Irene take you. She’s nicer than I am anyway.”
“You got that right, buddy. Anyway, here she is.”
“Hey, John.”
“How are my delightful niece and nephew?”
“I’ll sell them to you cheap. Henk threw up on me just before we left for church and did it twice at church so he came home in just a diaper. He didn’t seem to mind but I had to stand around pretending not to notice the big stinky wet spots on my blouse. And Lissa threw a huge tantrum when it was time to go home and cut her forehead on a door frame when she flung herself out of Ernie’s arms. Then we had to rush around to find a band aid to cover the cut before she ruined more than her dress but Mrs. Stockwell, you know, the nurse, cleaned her up and got her bandaged properly but that only changed the tantrum into whining which changed back into a tantrum when Oma and Opa left for Stratford after lunch. And we got home late from a most excellent concert and Ernie’s been grumpy because he didn’t get enough sleep or enough time with his parents. And, although I’d rather have figured it out a different way, I’m expecting again and I’ve had two bouts of morning sickness this afternoon.” She paused to take a deep breath. “At least Lissa and Henk are both napping now and Ernie can sleep until the afternoon milking. So that’s my day, so far.”
John stifled his laughter and tried to sound sympathetic. “Congratulations on the baby. My day was a breeze compared to that. Smudge woke me at sunup to try to teach me how to hunt mice and she yelled at me when I disposed of her um… encouraging sample.”
“Eeew. At least our cats stay in the barn where they’re supposed to.”
“Admit it, you like Smudge.”
“She’s okay. It’s good she found you because she’d be a failure as a barn cat. She’s way too small.”
John snorted. “Tell her that.” Then, changing the subject, he asked, “How was the concert?”
“Oh, man, baby brother. It was amazing. Sometimes you go to these things and you think you would have been better off staying home and listening to the album but these girls can really bring it. And there’s a guy from out west that was really good, too. Brad Johner, great singer. We bought a bunch of albums on the way out. And how was the orchestra?”
“It was excellent, as usual. They brought a vocalist with them this time and she did a pair of arias from Handel’s Tamerlano and a German hymn set to a Bach cantata. The orchestra was smaller this year, only eight of them but I guess that’s who was available for the tour this time around. They’re a bit richer sounding when they have at least two players each on the lower parts. But it was very good. Lucy was a bit fidgety, though.”
Irene’s voice took on a satisfied tone. “So she did agree to go with you.”
John’s tone was guarded. “She did. I left you a message.” He hoped that it was neutral enough that Irene wouldn’t push him for more detail. It was a vain hope.
“Did she enjoy the music?”
“Very much so. I think she was fidgeting because she couldn’t find a comfortable position to sit in the pew.”
“How far along is she?”
“She’s due in mid-November, I think. So that’s what?” John counted off the months. He and Irene said, “Five and half months,” at the same time.
Irene continued. “Yeah, that’s about when you start to feel it in either your back or your legs. It’s not so bad if you have a comfortable chair or can keep moving but to sit on a hard bench for a couple of hours…not so fun.”
“We talked about music on the way to the concert. She’s kind of like me – she picks her music to go with what she’s doing. She has a bunch of chamber music on her iPod that she listens to when she’s studying or writing. She’s more into techno and I’m more into screeching guitar rock but we like a lot of the same stuff.”
“So when are you seeing her again?”
John stifled his irritation. “I’m heading out this afternoon to replace the railings on her porch. And if it stays sunny and hot like they’re predicting, I’ll be over a couple more evenings next week to do some painting.”
“She’s welcome to come over next Saturday for supper and Scrabble.” Irene tried to sound casual.
John considered that. “I’ll ask but I don’t know if she’d be up for it. But it isn’t that far out of the way to pick her up. Rideau Ferry isn’t that much of detour.”
“Then she’s closer to us than you are.”
“Quite a bit. She’s staying at the old family homestead for the summer and working in Smiths Falls.”
“Well, I’d like to meet her.” Then her voice got a bit distant. “She was the last person I know for sure that saw Rob in person, well except on Skype.”
John felt the wave of loss again. “I miss him, too, Reenie.”
Irene’s voice took on a determined brightness. “So, I’ll make something that will keep as leftovers and make enough so that Lucy can visit, if she wants to.”
“Do you need anything from town?”
“Not really. Brockville has almost everything Ottawa has. Well, except for a good Lebanese grocery store.”
John got the hint. “I’ll bring some baklava with me when I come. And some of your favourite roasted pepper hummus.”
“I couldn’t ask you to do that.”
“It’s no trouble at all. I have to go into town to pick up some special order chisels and brushes anyway. The volunteers at the church are going through them faster than I expected. The old mortar isn’t quite as consistently fine as the sample I took for testing was. And it’s a bit too fragile for power tools.”
“Well, I’m glad you’ve got a project to keep you out of your crew chiefs’ hair.”
“And all of them are happy about it. I’ve got two more apprentices almost ready for their journeyman’s papers and they want to take on more responsibility, which is good because one of the crew chiefs has decided he doesn’t like restoration work. But he’s agreed to hang on until Mike writes his final exams in September. Then he’s headed south to Georgia, I think, or maybe North Carolina to build a new subdivision.”
“Have you ever been tempted to do that?”
“Not really. I like having the winter off. Well, not really off but it’s a lot slower. There’s interior work to do on some of the projects and I get to double check plans with the architects and engineers and do some real stonework. Keystones, vaulting, fancy arches, polishing, that sort of thing. Makes the time pass quickly, especially when I have apprentices to teach.”
“My brother the artist.” There was a note of pride in her voice.
“Shush. Don’t tell anyone.” Irene could hear his smile.
“Okay. Will I see you Saturday around milking?”
“Sure. I’ll come early to give Ernie a hand so we can have more time together.”
“Great, I’ll see you then.”
John contemplated the handset for a moment before he hung up. That was mild, for Irene. But then, she’d had a very stressful morning. He thought for a moment and wondered if he would have the courage to ask Lucy to come with him.
He wandered upstairs to change with Smudge keeping him in view. She leaped onto the bed to chatter at him while he got out of his church clothes and into jeans and tee shirt.
He’d really enjoyed Lucy’s co
mpany last night. It felt comfortable to walk with her down Elgin Street like they were a couple. And the brief feel of her when he pulled her close at the coffee shop was something he’d like to do again.
Her admission of past sins was troubling, though. When his mother passed away, he was only seventeen. Dad had withdrawn into himself, Rob was already in the army and Irene was away at university, so he’d turned to the church for support. Both Rob and Irene teased him about being one of those evangelical Christians but they didn’t understand the comfort that following the life that Jesus recommended gave him. There was a structure to his life and a touchstone he could use to help him make the right decisions. And there was his church community to talk with when the situation was too gray for him to know right away.
Promiscuity was not something a Christian was supposed to indulge in. Nor drinking to excess or ignoring duty by partying too late. Then he remembered the parable of the prodigal son. There was a warning in it about what happens when you live a dissolute life but there was also hope for those who were dissolute, that heaven would rejoice at their repentance. But there was also a warning for people like him who, perhaps mistakenly, identified with the good brother. We are to be content in our life and not begrudge it when other people have good fortune and we are to welcome them back when they repent, not resent them.
Besides, he thought, how are we to make disciples for Him when we drive people away with our stony faced disapproval. Lucy is turning her life around and I may have an opportunity here to introduce her to Jesus. But I think I’ll have to do it carefully. And to do that I need to change my bad attitudes.
He looked in the mirror and spoke. “And I start by accepting her for herself.” He turned back to the bed where Smudge was luxuriating in a patch of sunlight. “So how about it, girl? Do you think I can learn to be less of a tightass?”
Smudge lifted her head toward the sound of John’s voice and rolled onto her back in a wriggling stretch and began to purr.
Lucy crouched down to examine a trillium. There were two different species of beetle walking across the flower. She duly made notes in her field book and shifted to examine the leaf mould bed under it. She took out a ruler and brushed some of the leaf mat carefully to one side and measured the depth of the undisturbed portion. She continued brushing away the compost until she reached topsoil, recording that measurement and repeated until she hit clay.
Searching the area she found the iron bar that marked the centre of the twenty-five meter observation circle and attached her tape measure and began to walk north after consulting her compass. Tree census time was always a bit time consuming but even more so this year because of the pregnancy. She sighed and began to walk back along the tape. For this area, Grandfather’s notebook from 1957 had recorded only one small poplar due north from the rusty iron bar, which she needed to repaint soon so she could find it more easily. The small poplar was now massive and showing signs of age. A good gale might blow it down. She wrapped a tape measure around the tree at a height of 1.5 meters and got the measurement. On a new page in the notebook she started a table titled Site 4. Five columns were headed: ° fr. N; dist m; Species; circ @ 1.5m; and, Notes. She made the first entry: 0; 19.4; Poplar; 629cm; deer browsing on bark. She walked toward the bar and measured another tree. 0; 15.8; Birch; 47cm; no visible damage. Then she moved to the maple sapling closer to the iron bar wishing she had a high end GPS rig rather than estimating angles.
Bruno stayed with her for a few minutes then caught a scent trail, probably a deer or a porcupine, and ran off to follow it for a while. The birds in the canopy gave some cries of alarm. Lucy flipped back to the general observation page for the day and noted the birdcalls and species.
It took her more than an hour to catalogue the first semicircle and she decided to wait until the evening to record the other half. The first few years after her grandfather had passed away she had broken down for a good cry when she reached the big poplar. She still missed him but it was here, cataloguing the trees in the circles around the observation rods, that she felt closest to him.
When she’d turned fourteen and was about to enter grade nine, her mother finally convinced him to take her for the school year. Ostensibly it was so that she could take a sabbatical at a birthing unit at a university hospital in Australia, but now that she remembered that awful conversation and similar hints, Lucy was certain that it was because she wanted an excuse to get Lucy out of her house for good.
Her elderly and newly widowed grandfather had welcomed her and gotten her enrolled in the local high school. But he hadn’t quite known what to do with a cranky and rebellious teenaged girl. But he did love her. That much she knew. He encouraged her curiosity and intelligence even though it increased the amount of teasing and isolating comments from her classmates.
Unlike her classmates, though, she knew that science was often like piloting an aircraft. An exciting launch followed by hours of boredom and finishing with an unknown landing. Except that science was advanced when the landing wasn’t routine, if it found something it hadn’t expected, something new to explain. As she had once heard, “The most significant phrase in science is not ‘eureka’ but a puzzled ‘that’s odd’.”
She had finally found and copied the articles that Gillian had plagiarized from her thesis. It was very interesting to Lucy that the parts where the findings were inconsistent with the current accepted wisdom about climate change had been omitted. She and Gillian had been on somewhat different wavelengths about global warming and climate change and it had caused a lot of friction between them.
The preliminary data from the farm suggested that as carbon dioxide levels increased, so did the growth rate of certain woody plants. This implied that there were natural mechanisms at play to help regulate the partial pressure of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere. She would need at least another fifty years of data to draw any solid conclusions but a differential growth rate based on the partial pressure of carbon dioxide might be enough to account for the differences between the predictions from earlier models and the actual climate change observed. Or at least some measureable percentage of them.
Or it could be related to rainfall. She sighed as she thought about getting an automated weather station installed near the trailer. She had the data from Kingston and Kemptville but rainfall was more local than regional and she was closer to lake country than either.
Gillian, on the other hand, was a true believer in anthropogenic global warming and much of her reputation had been based on her political activism regarding climate change. Her grandfather had been pushed aside to emeritus status by the time Lucy started at Queen’s but he had been careful to point out to Lucy that science is always based in observable facts. He had a framed copy in his office of Patrick Moynihan’s quip, “Everyone is entitled to their own opinion but not their own facts.”
However, without her grandfather’s decades-long ingrained habit of skepticism, she’d gotten sucked into the global warming craze too and when she approached Gillian about her thesis topic she hadn’t noticed the acquisitive gleam in Gillian’s eyes as she talked about mining her grandfather’s observations to examine the link between plant growth and carbon dioxide levels.
She arrived back at the trailer sweltering from the still humidity under the trees regretting that she’d only taken one water bottle with her. The direct sunlight and dry meadow around the trailer meant a change in conditions but not in her discomfort. From her angle of approach she could see the short trail to the lake and decided that she needed to cool off.
The only swimsuit that still fit her was a very skimpy yellow bikini that tucked under her growing belly. If she was certain that John was busy she would probably have skipped the suit entirely but she didn’t want to cause the man a heart attack if he arrived here and saw her skinny dipping. Although, the bikini was almost worse.
She hummed happily as she changed then smiled as she saw the rumpled cocktail dress hanging from a hook in the tiny wardrobe. She
couldn’t remember having that pleasant an evening in a very long time, maybe ever. And even the tense encounter with Gillian had ended well.
She grew thoughtful as she took a beach towel from the cubbyhole under the dinette bench and headed out. She’d told John some more about her past in the car. She knew it bothered him but she had to give him credit for trying. Her experience with Christians until recently had been either the type that placed a higher priority on tolerance than on the commandments or the all-rules no-grace types who condemned you forever on first impressions.
John and Jessica were different, though. She didn’t know Jessica’s story but it was obvious that something, probably Rob’s death, had caused John to examine himself recently. Maybe it was something else but there was a humility about him that was very appealing.
She slipped out of her duck boots and put the towel on the squared off log that served as a bench. The lake water was cool and refreshing. She could feel the swelling in her feet go down and she waded out across the pebbly bottom toward her favourite partially submerged rock. There was a moment of shock as the water came up over her hips.
She leaned back on her hands basking in the sun. A few moments of relaxation then she felt a fluttering movement in her abdomen. She sat up quickly and tried to concentrate on the feeling but it didn’t come again right away. She rubbed her belly and thought about how she was going to love this baby with all her heart.
“Mother, why couldn’t you love me?” She meditated on that for a while but nothing came to mind. There had been a few men in her mother’s life but only after she’d left home. Well, at least she’d never met any of them before she moved out. She met five different men in the two years she’d been taking her Masters at Alberta. Lucy tried to remember what they looked like but they had all been medium height, slender and complacent – kind of like the men she used to prefer. Only one had any backbone but even he wilted under her mother’s personality.
“Maybe she only wanted fans, not partners.” Lucy felt some more of the puzzle fall into place. That was it. You can’t control a partner and you can’t always set the agenda when you have a child. Her mother always needed to be in full control. Still needs to be in control. The week she’d stayed at her mother’s after she lost the scholarship was excruciating with her mother commenting on everything that was wrong with her, from her appearance to her work ethic to her choice of career. And the week after she’d found out she was pregnant was worse.
Lucy looked up at the bright blue sky and around her to the familiar rocks and trees and water. Here there was no need for her to wonder if she was loved and appreciated. Here, she had useful scientific work to do, a decent job and the start of friendships that might actually last. And, as a flash of John’s solid frame in his elegant evening wear came to her, the possibility of building a partnership with a strong man she genuinely liked. She’d been fooled too many times by her hormones into thinking that lust and love were synonymous. This time she was going to make certain that she could at least sit in comfortable silence with a man before she took him to her bed.
Then she snorted as she looked down at the gentle bulge that was displayed by the tiny yellow bikini. It was going to be a long time before that happened.
Bruno gave a gentle woof from the shore and ran down the path toward the trailer. Lucy came out of her daydream and began to panic. She wasn’t ready to show off all her tattoos to John and hopped off the rock into the cool water. But it was too late.
Bruno came bounding back down the path, obviously excited to see his friend. John, dressed in form fitting jeans and a tee shirt that was a half size too small, strode rapidly to the shore and looked out at the lake to see Lucy drop into the water.
“Hi John. I wasn’t expecting you this early.”
“Pastor Jack is on vacation this week. His replacement prefers more music but the sermon is only twenty minutes as opposed to Jack’s hour. So we finished up very early. I thought we might go for a long lunch in Perth to avoid the midday heat.” He looked around at the shaded clear water that Lucy’s head was poking out of. “But I think I should have brought a picnic and a swim suit with me. That looks very refreshing.”
Lucy wasn’t sure which she’d prefer. It was hard enough to keep her hands to herself when he was wearing a tee shirt and jeans. She wasn’t certain she wouldn’t break one of her promises to herself if he was in arm’s length wearing a swimsuit. She shuddered at the thought of him in a Speedo thinking that he was one of a handful of men her age that had a good enough figure to pull it off.
John misinterpreted the shudder for a shiver and picked up the towel to hold it open to wrap her in. “You’d best come out if you’re starting to shiver.”
Lucy got a deer in the headlights look. She took a deep breath. “He’s going to see them some time”, she muttered and rose to standing and began to walk toward the towel trying to look more confident than she felt.
John stood frozen with surprise as Lucy approached him, her pregnancy bulge properly visible for the first time. The tiny bikini barely covered the essentials and showed that she had far more ink than he’d imagined. There was a wavy moonlike henna circle around her navel and a part of a green leaf with a ladybug visible on one breast. The brown tattoo he’d gotten a partial glimpse of on her leg was the trunk of a maple tree in fall colours, the canopy wrapping around one hip and on the other hip was a sunflower. These were in addition to the anklet and arm band in Celtic knotwork.
John watched in fascination as he looked beyond the tattoos to the womanly shape that underlay everything. The bikini left nothing to his imagination and he began to have prurient thoughts as she stepped into the towel. Automatically, he wrapped the towel around her as she backed into his arms.
John blinked then looked down at the line of tiny gold hoops in the ear next to his chin. Lucy was the right size to fit into his arms, tall enough that his hands rested comfortably on her firm abdomen. He sighed contentedly and gathered her closer then stiffened.
Lucy felt the sudden tension and reluctantly leaned forward out of his embrace. The brief seconds when she’d leaned back against him were so comfortable, like he’d taken her troubles and held onto them, allowing her to really rest. It was almost better than a nap. Then he’d stiffened.
They were silent as she dried off her feet and put her duck boots back on. Lucy made a conscious decision to not speculate as to why he suddenly backed off. Whatever she imagined was probably worse than his real motive.
John was also thinking as they returned to the trailer. He wasn’t certain whether he was attracted or repelled by the tattoos. Then he hazarded a glance at her again. She hadn’t replaced the eyebrow or lip rings but today the nose stud was a topaz. He lectured himself again reminding himself that the ink and piercings were only on the surface and they were indicative only of the past – not the now and not the future. Carefully, he asked, “How are you today?”
Lucy took a second to reply then remembered the movement in her belly. “I felt the baby move today. Actually, I’ve probably been feeling her for a couple of weeks but it’s hard to describe and I could have confused it with gas or nerves or anxiety. But I was relaxing on my favourite submerged rock at the lake and there was this flutter, right here.” Her tone was reverential as she opened the towel to touch her abdomen. She reached over to take his work roughened hand and put it on the firm bulge just below her navel.
John allowed her to drag his hand over and place it on her belly. They had stopped just in front of the porch and he was facing her, trying not to examine her too closely as she put his hand on the bare skin just above the top of her bikini bottom. It was almost too intimate for him to take, so he put on some mental armour and smiled. “I guess that makes it more real, eh? Reenie talked about that when she had Lissa and Henk.”
He took his hand back, somewhat reluctantly, but without panicking.
Lucy blushed when she realized what she’d done, but she guessed that he had decided that it wa
s meant in a friendly way. “Sorry, John. I was just excited and I needed to share.”
“No apology needed, Lucy. I’m very glad to see you’re happy about it.” His tone was sad at the end.
“Well, why shouldn’t I be? I’m going to have a very well loved and healthy baby.”
John took note of her defiant tone, wondering if there was a deeper story. In as gentle a tone as he could muster, he said, “Remember, I promised Rob I’d keep the promise he made to Nick. If you need anything that I can provide you only have to ask.”
Lucy licked her lips nervously. “Can I get a hug before I go change?”
John considered the request and looked like he was about to refuse when his face softened. “I can do that.”
Lucy dropped the towel on the porch steps and walked into John’s arms and squeezed like she was hugging a life preserver and allowed her tears to dampen his tee shirt. John commented. “It’s been a while, eh, Lucy?”
She relaxed her death grip and rested her head against his shoulder. “Since my grandfather died, really. Mother isn’t into hugs.” Sensing his doubt she said, “Hooking up at the bar isn’t about comfort, John. It’s about driving one demon away with another.” She snuggled into him as she relaxed. “This is much better.”
They stood there embracing until Lucy felt John’s breathing start to accelerate. She decided to back out while she could still keep it friendly. “I should go change.”
John let her go with an effort. “I’ll go unload the lumber before we head out.”
She waved as she passed the dinette window.
John took a deep breath. He’d come within a whisker of kissing her. He turned back toward the truck with the vision of her emerging from the water replaying in his mind. Then he sighed and muttered, “She’s a fine looking woman, that’s for sure. Even with all the tattoos.”
Chapter 10