Taking a Chance on Love Page 7

  Mr. Ballard was weaving all over the path and into the bushes. Bruce struggled to hold him upright. I saw Mr. Ballard stumble. He almost took Bruce down with him.

  I unlocked the doors, got out and helped Bruce guide Mr. Ballard into the passenger seat. Then I climbed in beside him. Bruce staggered to the driver’s door and fell into the seat. He had trouble turning on the ignition. In the light from the dashboard, I could see that he had a cut over his right eye and a swelling in the same cheek, extending up to the ear. He was pale, and his face held an unhealthy sheen of perspiration.

  “I’m driving, Bruce,” I said.

  I got out of the passenger side and slid in beside Bruce.

  He didn’t argue, but moved over and let me in behind the wheel. Easing the truck down to the main road, finally I had it headed in the direction of the Ballards’. Once there, in spite of grinding the gears a few times, I leaned on the horn until Mrs. Ballard came to the front door.

  “Hurry,” I called to her from the open truck window. “Come get your husband.”

  She stared at me from the lighted doorway.

  “Hurry!” I shouted. Finally she walked over slowly. I helped her get her husband inside their house.

  I didn’t say anything to Bruce all the way back to the Hansons’. For one thing, I needed to concentrate on driving. For another, his breathing had become rapid and shallow. Parking in front of the Hansons’ and turning the engine off, I said, “Bruce, I’m going in to get your mother. Stay here.”

  I went into the Hansons’ and heard Mrs. Hanson’s voice coming from upstairs. She was talking very loudly, and her voice was not her usual calm and placid one. This was her strictly no-nonsense tone, the kind she used with the Co-op grocery store in Gibson’s if they were late with their delivery.

  “I must ask you both to calm down,” she said. “I cannot have this disturbance. I have other guests, and they must be considered.”

  Glen’s mother answered in a conciliatory way, “You must excuse my husband, Mrs. Hanson. He’s had a very trying evening. Family business, you know. You understand how that can be. We will be leaving tomorrow on the noon boat … No, of course we don’t expect a refund. Again, my apologies.”

  I waited until Mrs. Hanson came downstairs, her footsteps a heavy thud on the steps. Her face was red, and she was breathing hard. “Really,” she muttered, slamming her way into the kitchen.

  “Bruce’s outside in the truck,” I said quickly. “I’ll need help bringing him inside. He’s been staggering. I think he’s in pain, too.”

  She looked at me, worry sharp in her eyes. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know, except I think he was trying to stop a fight between Mr. Ballard and Robert Pryce.”

  “That’s like Bruce, all right … Maybe one of them accidentally hit Bruce’s bad ear, the ear that was burned. Once we get him in bed, I’ll phone Dr. Casey. Pray God that he’s not out delivering a baby somewhere up the peninsula.”

  Bruce staggered even more once we got him into the bright kitchen. The hall to his bedroom was dimly lit, as was his room, and he seemed to walk better with less light. I knew where his bed was located — I’d made it often enough — and we soon had him there and lying down. Mrs. Hanson left to phone the doctor.

  It was hard to see clearly without the light on, but the grimace of pain was easing from Bruce’s face, and he seemed more like himself. As I was leaving him to join Mrs. Hanson in the kitchen, he said quietly, “You’re a sweetheart, Meg.”

  Mrs. Hanson was still talking on the phone. “Just a minute, Dr. Casey, and I’ll check … No, no vomiting … No, not dizzy … Some staggering. Pain, yes … His right ear … Yes, the one that was burned in the explosion … Yes, I’ll bring him up to you immediately if there are any more problems … All right, tomorrow morning at ten. Thank you, Dr. Casey.”

  By the time I got home, it was late. “I’m not happy about this, Meg,” Mom said.

  But when I told her what had happened, she softened. “You did well,” she said. “As for Mrs. Ballard … Well, what we do affects other people, and she’s too old to have been acting up the way she has.”

  Chapter Nine

  On my way to work the next morning, I called in on Amy to ask her about the fight between Robert Pryce and Mr. Ballard the night before. Mrs. Miller met me at the door, still in her pale blue baby-doll nightgown.

  “Amy’s gone out in the boat with the Pryce boy,” Mrs. Miller said. “No, I’m sorry, I don’t have any idea when she’ll be back.”

  There was no sign of Bruce when I went into work. Anna looked up from rolling out a pie crust and smiled at me. She eased the pie crust carefully into the waiting pie plate and began to trim it, humming as she did so.

  “Your date turned out okay?” I said.

  “Better than okay.”

  Upstairs, I found three suitcases outside the door of Dr. Barras’ room. The door was slightly ajar, and the sounds of a quarrel carried out into the hallway. Although Dr. and Mrs. Barras were trying to whisper, the voices seemed to carry even further than if spoken normally. It was all the sibilants, I decided. They sounded like snakes hissing.

  The doctor’s voice was angry. “No, I do take it seriously. Seriously, I say. Rob Pryce being attacked by an outraged husband at the dance last night. His brother, your son, Glen … acting like a randy teenager. The girl hanging onto him … no better. I don’t want your son bringing this kind of chaos into our household. Think of our children.”

  Glen’s mother’s voice was soothing. “Don’t upset yourself, Harold. Think of your blood pressure. Leave it to me. I’ll take care of everything.”

  That afternoon when the Lady Cecilia called in on her return trip to Vancouver, I made sure I was sweeping the porch outside. From there, I could see the gangplank. Glen was there with his mother. But instead of following her up onto the ship, as I’d expected, he bent his head and kissed her on the cheek, as if in goodbye.

  I didn’t see Bruce until later that day. He looked much better and wanted something to eat. I cut a slice of homemade bread, toasted it and slathered on the butter. The coffee was newly brewed, and I poured him a cup, adding extra cream and sugar. He looked tired, and the bruise in front of his right ear was an angry purple. But at least he was no longer staggering.

  “Thanks for last night,” he said quietly. “You came through like the trooper I know you to be.”

  From then on, every time we met he’d smile briefly, or give me a thumbs-up.

  “I’m worried about Bruce,” Mrs. Hanson said to Anna a few days later as she kneaded the bread dough. “I don’t think he should be out fishing. The glare off the water could make him dizzy, and he’s out there all alone. Dr. Casey did tell me that with Bruce’s ear injury, bright light could bring on a spell of dizziness. But he needs to be doing something. He’s getting impatient waiting for this last skin graft.”

  “Did the doctor say it’s okay for him to go dancing?” Anna said.

  “I asked, and he said, ‘Yes, encourage him to do it.’ You remember what the burn doctor said when Bruce was first in the hospital? That burn victims need to be encouraged to get back with people, back to being social? ‘So many of them,’ he said, ‘think that they are too disfigured for people to want to be with them.’”

  Bruce disfigured? That small patch on his chest? Where else? Was that why he sometimes seemed blunt, even ungracious? “How is Alfred Kallio?” asked Mrs. Hanson, giving the dough a good thump to knock out the air bubbles. “Did you have a nice time last night? I heard you come in. It was very late.”

  “He’s asked me to marry him,” said Anna.

  “That was fast.”

  “He says that they’re being shipped overseas after they finish basic training.”

  Mrs. Hanson sighed. “Will there ever be an end to this war? There’s not a family on this peninsula who hasn’t someone in the services. Well, it’s not as if you haven’t known Alfred for a long time. And he’s from good stock. I knew h
is mother’s people.”

  “We thought we’d get married at the end of August. We’ll take a weekend for a honeymoon before he has to go back to base. And things will be slowing down here at the guest house. It seems like a good time.”

  “I don’t know, Anna. To get ready for a big wedding in that short a time …”

  “No big wedding, Mama. A trip to City Hall and an overnight stay at the Hotel Georgia, that’s all we’ve planned.”

  “Bruce, do you think I could go out fishing with you?” I asked the next time we were alone in the kitchen drinking coffee. “I’d like to learn.”

  “Learn to fish?” he said, suspicion in his rising voice. “There’s not much to it.”

  “I’d like to learn how to handle an inboard, too. I thought you were going to be a big brother to me, since mine’s away in the Air Force. He’d teach me if I asked him.”

  “Meg, you’re not fooling me. You think I’ll get dizzy out in the boat with the sunlight glaring off the water … My mother has put you up to this.”

  “No, she hasn’t. Why are you so miserable all the time? Can’t you believe that I like to learn things? Or even that I like being with you?”

  He put his coffee cup down with a rattle.

  I’d gone too far. “As a friend,” I hurried to add.

  “Friend?”

  “Yes, friend. What’s the matter with that? As a friend, I want to be with you if you need my help, like, say you do get dizzy …”

  For a moment, I thought he was going to push his chair back and leave, but then his eyes lost their sharpness and even softened. “It will mean you’ll have to set your alarm. I like to be out on the water when the tide changes. I’m talking five o’clock tomorrow morning. If you’re not at the float on time, I’m leaving anyway.” I could hear the naval officer in the way he spoke.

  I couldn’t remember ever getting up that early before. The sky was beginning to lighten in the east as I left home quietly and made my way to the wharf. Bruce was already down at the float with the fishing gear, water and an extra can of gas.

  The ocean was absolutely flat, and we made our way out to Salmon Rock in good time. We used live herring for bait, and the salmon hit almost immediately. Bruce had me tend one line while he took care of the other. In an hour and a half, we had caught seven good-sized coho.

  The water had begun to pick up a chop, and the sun bounced off the waves, reflecting like a hundred mirrors. I was relieved when Bruce put on sunglasses and pulled the peak of his cap down lower.

  I had watched how he handled the boat and thought I knew a few basics, though I wasn’t sure about starting the engine if I had to. I saw that Bruce had turned the flywheel over by hand, and I thought I could do that. The engine had its own sound. Two bits two bits two bits, it putted across the water. Bruce said it was an Easthope. “Single cylinder, water-cooled. I like the Easthope better than a Briggs and Stratton.”

  “So do I,” I said.

  “Meg, you’re full of it,” he said, but he grinned.

  We got back to the Landing without any trouble. After we had tied up at the float, Bruce began to clean the salmon. He picked one up, slit the belly open with one swift cut of his knife and dropped the guts into the ocean beside us.

  “Want to try?” he asked, leaning back on his heels.

  “Sure.” He handed me the knife. I found that it wasn’t as easy as it looked. I finished one salmon and handed the knife back. “I’ll do two next time,” I said.

  Mrs. Hanson smiled with pleasure at the sight of our catch. “Our new guests will rave about my sour cream and onion salmon,” she said. “Come, sit down, the two of you. For you, I’ll make pancakes, bacon and eggs. The coffee’s freshly made.” She filled two cups and placed them before us.

  “Do you like fishing that much, Meg, that you’d get up so early for it?” she asked as she busied herself at the stove.

  “I like being out on the water,” I said. “Fishing’s just an excuse to be out there. I don’t even like the taste of salmon that much.”

  “Wait until you’ve eaten my special baked salmon. A Norwegian neighbour gave me the recipe years ago. I’ll save some for you from dinner tonight.”

  I felt sleepy after the huge breakfast, and I didn’t know how I was going to stay awake for work in an hour. Mrs. Hanson caught me nodding.

  “You can catch a few winks in one of the bedrooms upstairs in the attic,” she said. “I keep a couple of rooms ready there in case of an emergency. I see you brought a change of clothing. But mind you take off your shoes. My mother made those quilts. I’ll wake you in time for work.”

  The room was small but cozy. On the bedside table, a family album lay open to two pictures of Bruce. In one, he was about three and held a cat. He was holding it carefully, its head supported, cradling it in his arms. In the other, he looked about seven and held a baby, his cousin Rita, according to the writing on the back. His blond head, perfectly shaped, was bent over the baby in a caring way. This was the Bruce I sensed was there under his often abrupt manner. My days were full, yet I missed Amy. She was always with Glen. Every few days I would stop by to see her.

  One early afternoon, I knocked and knocked at her front door and had finally given up and turned away when the door opened. Amy stood there, swaying. She looked dazed. Sleepy-eyed. Face slack.

  Beyond the open door, I saw Glen lying on the couch with the same stunned look on his face. I must have interrupted their lovemaking, I thought. The air was thick with their sexual tension. I fled, mumbling something about coming back another time.

  The scene stayed with me for days. It seemed that everywhere I looked, I saw people in love, falling in love, making love. It made me curious, excited, with strong, unexpected yearnings. But I also felt uneasy, not really ready to know any more about this new world.

  These feelings grew even stronger when my brother, Sam, came home on a one-week leave from the Air Force with his girlfriend Olive, a newly graduated nurse. “I want to wait until after the war before we get married,” she told my mother.

  “Very sensible,” Mom commented.

  “Meg must come and visit my family some time,” Olive said. “I have two sisters, and they would love her. She would fit right in. They are fifteen and eighteen.”

  “It would be good for Meg to be with girls,” Mom said. “There’s only one girl here in the Landing, and she’s a — well, should I say a bit too mature for her age?”

  Olive helped dry while I washed the dishes. “I think yellow would be a good colour on you,” she said. “Especially with your dark hair and eyes. Are they hazel or brown? My eighteen-year-old sister loves makeup, and I think she’ll want to show you all she knows. Promise that you’ll come and stay with us for a weekend before you start school in September.”

  Sam came outside to talk to me one morning when I was hanging up the weekly wash on the clothesline. “Mother says you’re working at Mrs. Hanson’s Guest House,” he said. “How are they treating you?”

  “Fine.” I reached for a pillowcase. “Couldn’t be nicer.”

  “Bruce, too?”

  “Yes. He’s fine, too. Why do you ask?” I reeled out the clothesline.

  “I went to high school with him. I didn’t much like him. He thought he was better than anyone else.”

  “Sometimes he acts that way,” I said.

  “He went off to university. Did well. There was no putting up with him after that.”

  “He lost a lot of his shipmates when his ship was torpedoed. And you know that he got badly burned. He told me that it changed him a lot,” I said.

  “It would, yes … I used to think that his mother and sister made too much of him. So did the teachers.”

  “Well, he’s okay with me, Sam. And I’m making good money and have a chance for more work off-season.”

  “I’m just warning you not to go getting a crush on Bruce. He’s kind of old for you, anyway.”

  I glared at him. “Oh, mind your own damn busines
s! Stop acting like a big brother!”

  But maybe I was getting a crush on Bruce Hanson. I found I was thinking about him all the time. From the moment I woke up until it came time to lay my head on the pillow at night, he was there in my mind.

  When we were out fishing and he was baiting a hook, I saw how the sun glistened in the hairs on his arms, making them golden. I noticed how his shirt stretched across his shoulders when he pulled up a salmon. Often he hadn’t shaved before we went out on the boat, and I wondered if the stubble would scratch against my cheek.

  That he didn’t know what I was thinking, I was sure. His manner towards me remained much the same. He was often brusque, sometimes silent, occasionally warm, always protective.

  “I want to talk to you about something that’s been on my mind,” he said one morning, just before we headed the boat back to the Landing. Our catch lay on the floorboards between us, their scales shining like miniature rainbows in the sun. “It’s about Amy.”

  “Oh, yes. My friend, Amy.”

  “She’s not really a good friend for you, Meg. I think she uses you. She says ‘come,’ and you do. She says ‘go,’ and you do that, too.”

  “What makes you say that?”

  “I notice things,” he said. “Once that Pryce boy goes into Vancouver to work, she’ll want you dancing attendance on her again. Not that he’s any prize either. What he needs is a good stint in the services to make a man out of him.”

  “I guess.”

  “Meg, what you should be doing is applying to different universities for their scholarships. There must be ones available for girls. UBC isn’t the only university. Write to McGill, Queen’s …”

  “I’ve got all year to do that,” I said. Sam, now Bruce, bossing me around …

  “But if there is a scholarship for someone making the highest marks in English, or history, you could be doing extra reading and studying right now. There are government correspondence courses you could take that would broaden your knowledge.”

  “Why are you so ambitious for me, Bruce?”

  “Because you’re intelligent, hard-working, and I think you could make your mark on the world with the right education …”