Redeemed From the Ashes—Chapter 6—Never for Forever
So they were married —to be the more together —
And found they were never again so much together.
Louis Macniece
Chapter 6
Evelyn strode onward, her skirts swishing in the violent wind. She neared the stately Georgian house and its dressed grounds, almost as delicious as an ornately arranged garden salad. The whole property was enclosed by a pearly white gated fence. Instead of being framed by superfluous elegant crimson curtains, all of the windows were boarded up, locking the darkness within. The rest of the house was intact. Her childhood home had once effused such a majesty, but now it was shrouded in mediocrity.
Dare she hope her mother still lived? She swung open the creaking gate, ran up the steps, and furiously knocked upon the door. The door was gently opened a few moments later by an elderly woman whose brow was creased with impatience.
“Mother!” Evelyn enclosed the stricken hostess in a fierce embrace.
“Calm yourself, now, Evelyn.” Her mother tried to right her perfectly pleated dress and return balance to the silver comb holding up most of her thinning grey hair. “What is the meaning of this brashness?”
“Why, Mother, I’ve come to see if you’re well.”
“Well, of course, I’m well. How could you think I wasn’t?”
“I heard Dartmouth had received some damage from the ship’s explosion that happened...”
“Yes, I know, five weeks ago it was. Thompson relayed all the details to me when I returned.”
“Returned?”
“I was out of town when it occurred. I was visiting with your Aunt Gladys and her scoundrel of a husband in Montreal. I stayed with them for a week and a half to help settle some of their money troubles. And I also travelled there to look at some property.”
Property?! And she didn’t think to tell me she was all right?! Is she so blind to the fact that I care?
Evelyn coolly inquired, “Is it in your keep?”
“No. I took one look at it and happily relinquished it to your uncle and aunt.”
“Why Montreal? You’ve never expressed interest in the city.”
“Just because I have never talked to you about it doesn’t mean I haven’t considered the notion. Your aunt and uncle live there, and I would like to stay there during the summertime to see the hubbub of industrialization.”
“It must be quite fascinating,” Evelyn muttered.
“It is.”
“And you didn’t read about the explosion from there?”
“No, why on earth would I do so?”
“Well, the newspaper, of course.”
“All there is in the newspapers these days is ghastly reports of the war. No lady of breeding would interest herself with the politics of the world. When I returned I was horrified to see my lovely windows boarded up. I went to Thompson immediately to demand an explanation. He told me what had happened. As you can see I’m all in one piece.”
An uncomfortable silence ensued.
“Will you not come in? Would you like some tea?” Her mother inquired.
“Yes, thank you.”
She never even bothered to see if I was all right this whole time.
“Come this way.” She waved toward the parlour. She gave a nod to the newest employed servant girl and then sat down with a regal air upon an ice blue chair.
Evelyn followed suit choosing the buttercup yellow divan, shuddering at how her mother could be so cold to a daughter she hadn’t seen in so long.
“The weather has been quite ghastly recently,” Mrs. Moore murmured.
“I wouldn’t know. I’ve been at Camp Hill Hospital these past five weeks.”
“The hospital—such a filthy place. What for?”
“My right arm was burned in the fire that consumed my home after the explosion. All the burning debris of the ship and the blast must have knocked over many wood stoves in the homes of the city. When I regained consciousness, I could see the flames rising all around me. I don’t know who, but someone retrieved me from the fire. It might have been a soldier. There were so many crawling about trying to find and save survivors.
“I stayed in the hospital for five weeks; four of them were for my own recovery. I stayed another week to help another patient recover enough from the wounds in his legs to walk a few steps on his own.”
“My, that is quite a tale.” Mrs. Moore sipped her tea, eyes fixed over the brim of her teacup.
The servant entered the room to set down upon the parlour table the dessert tray which held freshly baked scones and left.
The china tea plates glistened in the warm glow of the table lamp. Yellow roses laced with greenery danced along the rims of the tea plates and cups.
“I’ve never seen her before, Mother.” Evelyn indicated with a throw of her chin toward the doorway through which the servant had passed.
“She’s the newest addition.”
“I’m glad to have found you safe in your home.”
“You may stay a few days if you like. I lack the company.”
“Thank you, Mother.”
Her mother rang a little golden bell sitting upon a gorgeous mahogany table, exhibiting hand carved roses and thorns along the edging. The servant came swiftly.
“Take Mrs. Richardson up to the MacDonald room.” Mrs. Moore had almost spit out her son-in-law’s last name from her mouth.
Evelyn, enraged at the insult, balked.
You knew this was the treatment you would receive coming here.
She left the room and followed the servant upstairs.
As the servant was about to leave the room after having placed Evelyn’s small valise of belongings upon the ornate bed, Evelyn cried, “Wait!”
The girl just stood there.
“Here.” Evelyn opened the servant’s palm and placed a dollar upon it. “Thank you.”
The servant just bobbed her head as she curtsied and left the room immediately.
All night Evelyn tossed and turned as throbbing memories flooded her mind. Kissing Carl goodbye as he prepared to board the ship that would carry the troops to Europe, mailing letters everyday, seeing him return home, aching as his tears drenched her dress as she held him tight, the cold, the heat of their love— she prayed with a weak hope she hadn’t lost him again.
Although it was highly unlikely he would be in Dartmouth, she would scour the hospital and other first aid facilities tomorrow morning. Then she would visit the morgue.
***
She arose before her mother did, although she was fatigued because of lack of sleep. She told the servant where she was planning to go and set off. She went back to the Nova Scotia Hospital to start the hunt.
“Lucy, good day.”
“Good day to you, as well, Miss.”
“I’m looking for my husband, a Carl Richardson.”
“Oh, pardon my ignorance, Ma’am.”
“It’s all right.”
“Let’s see...” Lucy hummed a tune as she flipped through patient records. “I’m sorry, but we have no record of his being treated here.” She gave a sympathetic look. “When was the last you saw him?”
“Before he left for work…on the day of the explosion. And I don’t know where he is. He wasn’t accounted for as dead. So that must mean he still lives, doesn’t it?”
Or maybe he was unrecognizable amongst the dead.
“I’m sure it does.”
“Would it be possible for you to give me a list of all the medical faculties in Dartmouth? And perhaps the morgue?”
“Well, this hospital is the only one like it on this side of the Narrows, but I could give you a list of perhaps other…options people could have gone to for help. Could you come back, perhaps after lunch to pick up the list?”
“Of course. I’ll return.” She was hoping to start immediately and to delay seeing her mother for a precious few more hours. She could still do the latter by revisiting her old haunts. All her special places were to be found within her mother’s estate. Mrs. Moore had taken many precautions to shield her young daughter from social evils. So Evelyn’s only option had been to explore the lonely estate to its fullest.
As she trudged along, the pitter-pattering of the children’s skipping and singing lifted her sinking spirits. The clusters of women enshrining together for their daily dose of gossip and the occasional motor car roaming its way through the streets were evidence to the fact that people’s lives were starting to mend. Life went on through the sun and storms. Yet she didn’t feel the stitching and mending for which she was crying out. Only more breaking and tearing took its place. There was hardly any good she could see or breathe.
She furtively checked to see if her mother loomed in one of the windows only to remember all the windows were boarded. She opened the gate, taking great care not to let a creak escape its lips. In safety, she stole away into the rear gardens to which Mr. Thompson tended many hours of the day in the warmer seasons. She tip-toed through a maze of hedges to find the wooden bench still residing in the now slumbering rose garden. As she rounded a corner, her happy sigh flew into the sky as she sighted the haven. She sat down upon the bench and tipped her head back, eyes closed, drinking in the crisp cool of the day. Snowflakes started to drift from the clouds down to her anticipating hands. A small laugh emanated from her girlish parted lips. Evelyn stuck out her tongue to catch the falling stars, to taste the nectar from Heaven. They started to crown her head with sparkling dust.
She remembered a time long ago when she and Carl had stood there in that same place, hands bound together in the pouring rain. He had come to her to say goodbye, for he was going to New Brunswick over the weekend. Such a small separation seemed like a great chasm back then.
“Evelyn, you needn’t worry. I’ll only be gone for five days at the most. My father is dying. He needs me.” Carl had cradled her face in his slender hands.
“I know. I want you to go. I just…I’ll miss you so.”
“I’ll return, I promise. I’ll never leave you for forever.”
“Never for forever. I’ll hold you to that promise.”
Where was he now when she needed him most? Was his promise a petty romantic string of words? He now wounded her by not being by her side.
The wind, moaning and scorching, was starting to increase; so she returned inside to the comfort of her mother’s home. Hanging her fur coat, hat, and mittens, she steeled herself for the sure to be unpleasant moment she would see her mother.
“Good morning, Mother.” Evelyn entered the drawing room and sat near the crackling fireplace.
“Good morning. My, your cheeks are rosy.”
“Yes, I was out walking with Old Mr. Chilly to keep me company.”
“Walking? Where?”
“I...” There was no way to get out of the situation. “I went to the Nova Scotia Hospital to see if, perhaps, Carl had been treated there.”
“You must face the fact, Evelyn, that Carl may very well be dead. And you…you’ll waste away. How will you function if you’re always pining? And there are other men that may come round…”
“Mother! Stop!”
“I’m just saying…”
“Enough is enough. I know how you felt about my marriage to Carl. He wasn’t good enough for you, low birth, uneducated, and such. But, Mother, these days a man can reach aspirations with his bare hands and mind. He doesn’t need a title to be someone. You may have a high opinion of yourself but your backward notions bring you down.”
Silence permeated the room until it stifled the core of Evelyn’s soul.
“I’m sorry, Mother. It was wrong for me to speak out in that way.”
“Do not treat me like a fool.”
“Truly, I am.”
“I never wanted you to marry him because he had notions of galavanting off into the war to serve his country and what rubbish instead of staying here with you to raise a proper family. Look at what has come of it all now.”
“I’m proud of him and his service.” Shame still flushed her cheeks.
“Yes, well, I would rather be proud of a husband who tends to his family than an unknown soldier whose name may very well be buried in the ashes of yesterday.” Mrs. Moore rang her bell. “Tea?”
“No, thank you, Mother. I don’t…feel well. I shall retire for now.” As she started to go upstairs, she spied the maid near the doorway to the drawing room. “Please bring my meal to my room.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“Thank you.” Her soul seemed to drain from the corpse it inhabited. She limply laid down once she returned to her bed. A couple hours later she was groggily aroused by a soft knock on the door. She arranged her tousled hair quickly and bade the visitor enter.
“Oh, thank you for remembering my meal.”
The maid curtsied and left her presence.
***She splashed some water onto her face and dabbed it dry. She returned to the Nova Scotia Hospital, picked up the list, and began searching. She visited two other private first-aid facilities where some of the explosion victims had gone for treatment. They gave their condolences saying they had never treated Carl. Her last stop was the morgue. There his body couldn’t be found either. With an aching heart, she returned to her mother’s home.
“Mother.” Evelyn, suitcase in hand, stood in the doorway. “I’m leaving now. Thank you for the hospitality you have shown me.”
Her mother looked up from her reading, “It was of no consequence.”
The hurt her mother or she could inflict upon one another was always of great strength.
A tear slipped out of Evelyn’s reach. “I must return to my home and continue searching there. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye.”
Looking back, the city seemed to be surrounded by a heavy-laden fog. There was no turning back; but the road ahead was daunting, unforgiving. She hoped she would have the courage to risk her heart and mind being battered over and over again.
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