Ghost of My Heart —Chapter 2—Quest for Answers

Chapter 2

After Carl and Evelyn ushered the children off to school, Carl pulled Evelyn aside to ask her what her plans were for the day.

“Well, I was going to visit Betsie for the day and run a few errands in town. Why? Do you need me to get you something?”

Carl laid a hand upon her shoulder and shook his head. “No, no, it isn’t that. I was thinking of going into town myself.”

Her brows rose in confusion. “Whatever for? You never go into town unless it’s a family outing.”

He stared at the road behind her, struggling to figure out how he could go without raising any suspicion. “Clyde...he, uh...last time we talked, he asked if I could visit with him. He wanted to have a father to son talk.”

“He’s not in any trouble, is he?” Evelyn searched his eyes.

He stared at his chest, hoping by averting her gaze he could lie with less difficulty. “No, all is well. He’s just in need of some fatherly wisdom.”

A small sigh escaped her lips as she grabbed her coat. “Well, why, don’t we ride into town together? We can separate when we near Dalhousie. Why, I’ll be passing by there on the way to Betsie’s.”

“Perfect.”

“Are you all right today? It won’t be too much for you?”

“No, this is a good day. My nerves are settled and not on edge in the least. Let’s go.”

***

Carl hopped off the tram and waved to Evelyn as her face drew further away. He turned toward Dalhousie. Perhaps Clyde could provide some answers.

He was acutely in tune with the hum and buzz of the city. The hairs on his neck were raised, and his knuckles turned white as he walked with his arms frozen to his sides. He tucked in his chin and furtively glanced around him for ghostly dangers which ever eluded him when he walked amongst the city crowds.

Although it was a cool day, beads of sweat trickled down the side of his neck. He grabbed his handkerchief and quickly dabbed at the prevailing stream of cold sweat. As he did so, the blaring of a motor horn startled him, causing him to jump to the side. However, because of his prosthetic leg which he received as a result of an injury from the war, he could not regain his balance. He fell to the ground, reaching out with his hands to break his fall. Instead, his right hip and elbow received the brunt of the impact; his prosthetic lay at an odd angle from his body.

Just then, a boy shouted “Sorry!” The wheel of the boy’s bike grazed Carl’s prosthetic.

Overcome by crippling fear, Carl laid his right cheek upon the cool pavement and covered the left side of his face with his left arm.

When the blur of city noises returned to a steady flow, Carl shakily raised himself to a sitting position. People milled past him either oblivious to his predicament or fully knowing that he was a coward.

“Son,” a soft hand on his shoulder, “are you all right?”

He looked over his shoulder and found a smiling older gentleman bending down toward him. “Yes, thank you. I...I just...”

“Were you in the war, son?”

Carl nodded, wary of what the man would think.

The man gave his shoulder a small squeeze. “You’re mighty brave to be on the streets by yourself, no less downtown. My own son can’t to this day. Thank you for your service. Can I call someone for you?”

“I’ll be all right. I’m to visit my son at Dalhousie.” 

“You just take care of yourself.”

“Thank you.”

The man nodded and walked off.

“Blast!” Carl muttered. “Get a grip on yourself.” 

He reached Dalhousie without further incident. He waited a stretch before Clyde could get out of class to visit with him.

Clyde sauntered down the steps and tenderly wrapped his arms around Carl. “Father! What are you doing here? Is Mother here?”

Carl shook his head. “No, it’s just me.”

“Is everything all right?” He cocked his head. 

“We need to talk.”

They opted to speak Clyde’s room. Although the sun was shining beautifully and there was an empty bench in the courtyard in front of the college, Carl didn’t believe he could last much longer in public without a reprieve.

Both men stood awkwardly. Carl wasn’t sure how he would broach the subject. He didn’t want Clyde to think he was going behind his mother’s back which, in a way, he was.

Clyde gestured to the seat behind Carl. “Have a seat.”

Carl eased himself down and massaged the area where his stump connected to the prosthetic.

“Father, do you feel all right? Does it hurt?”

Carl’s fingers left his leg and began to erratically drum upon the arm of the chair. Clyde’s imploring tones sounded weak and far away in his ears as if he were underwater.

“Father, what’s going on? You never come here alone. Is everything all right at home?”

Slowly, Carl emerged from his foggy state and steepled his fingers. “Mm?”

Clyde repeated his questions.

“I think so...yes. I mean the children are all well and excelling in school. It’s your mother. She seems oddly preoccupied these days.”

“With what? I mean, she is still raising three young children. My hat goes off to her...”

“No, I mean with her thoughts. I think it started ever since our outing to the Commons. She had a dream the night of...I’m not sure if they’re related at all...”

“A dream?”

“I think—I know this sounds silly—but it has to do with that bouquet of flowers she found on the bench that day. Sometimes, I’ll catch her staring at them for a few minutes at a time.”

Clyde raised his hands, “Maybe she’s admiring them?”

Carl shook his head, “No, it’s almost as if she’s trying to see through them. Did you notice anything out of the ordinary when she picked them off the bench?”

“You might be onto something. She returned with the bouquet to where I stood. She cradled it as if it had meaning or significance, just as you were describing before. I guess I passed it off as her admiring it.”

“Do you think someone left them there for her?”

“You’re not implying that mother has a lover, are you? That the bench is a trysting place?”

“No, I know she wouldn’t. I feel your mother’s love every day as if...it’s an ever-present and palpable current I can touch. She has been so patient and loving in my recovery. I’m certain she’s faithful. I just don’t understand. And why those flowers? Lilies are her favourite!”

“Maybe it’s some sort of code she and Betsie came up with?”

“You know how your mother hates riddles, hardly ever joins in when the children and I play a game. I thought, perhaps, you would know.”

Clyde tilted his head back, looking at the ceiling. “I wish I knew, but I don’t.”

Carl stood up and picked up his hat. “Thank you for taking time out of your busy schedule to speak with me. You better get on with your next class.” He walked a few steps before he turned around and added, “If your mother asks you why I’ve been here, tell her you were looking for some advice.”

“I feel very uncomfortable lying to her, even if it is a little white lie.”

“Of course, you’re right. I’ll leave it up to you as to how you want to answer. I can’t shake off the feeling that she doesn’t want me to know...something. Good day, son.”

Defeated in his attempt to gain any insight into the mystery of Evelyn’s recent silence, he walked aimlessly, shoulders sagging. He couldn’t tell for how long or how far he had walked. He lifted his head to see a sign indicating the direction of the Victoria Hospital.

Betsie! She must know what it all means.

He walked up a few feet to the corner of the street to scan around for a street sign. Once he knew where he was, he strode in the direction of Betsie’s home.

***

Excited to see her friend, Evelyn knocked on Betsie’s door.

“Coming!” Betsie’s singsong welcome rang from within. She opened the door and exclaimed, “My, am I happy to see you! How long has it been? A month?”

“It’s been a week!”

“And that is why you must never stop your routine visits or else I’ll think you’ve gone and died.” She embraced Evelyn fiercely and ushered her into the kitchen. “Tea, before we go off?”

“Yes, please.” Evelyn rubbed her hands a little and blew on them. “Same place?”

“They still need the volunteers. There’s been a new wave of tuberculosis.”

“How dreadful! You know, helping the poor and needy with you for the last eight years has been so rewarding. Just to see these people light up with smiles—we do so little, they give so much.”

“I agree. Doesn’t it feel like we’re making a difference in this world?”

“We are. One soul at a time.”

“So, what have you been up to these days? How are the children?”

“The children are very well. They miss you. You should come one of these weekends when you’re not working.”

“I will. What about you?”

Evelyn inspected her nails. “I think I’m all right.”

“Oh, no, you don’t. Something is going on and you’re going to tell me right now.” 

“It’s probably nothing.”

“It may be, but it’s quite clear it’s something enough to bother you. Spill!”

“I found a...a bouquet of wax flowers at the Commons on a bench that Gerald and I used to frequent when he was alive.” Evelyn peeped at Betsie. “I told you it was a small matter.”

Betsie placed her hands on her hips. “Well, that is a handful, isn’t it?”

“What do you think?”

Betsie got up, poured the tea, and sat down. Her hands fluttered to her mouth then back down. She stared hard at Evelyn. “I think I’ve got something to tell you.”

“All right. What is it?”

“Did you read the papers around the time of Gerald’s execution?”

Evelyn gulped. “No, I swore off the papers for a long while. I picked them up years later.”

“Something odd happened. Initially, the public was invited to see his hanging. It was the talk of the town.”

“I remember. Even though I didn’t read any of the papers and lived outside the city, the news still reached my ears.”

“Well, the day before the hanging, splashed all over the papers was the headline ‘Public Snubbed In Seeing Justice Served.’ Last minute, whoever was in charge changed their minds.

“Everyone was enraged, of course. They wanted to see the traitor hanged. Instead, it was changed to a non-public execution.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t you find the sudden change odd?”

“How should I know? I’m not a jail warden.”

“What if he never was executed?”

“That’s impossible!”

“What if he’s still alive? Perhaps he left those flowers as a message to you.”

Evelyn couldn’t move, she was so shaken by the implications of such a possibility. The past came rushing upon her like a mad stampede of elephants. She stood up and knocked her chair backward. “That can’t be! He’s dead! How come you never told me...about all this?”

“I hadn’t thought it meant anything until you told me about the flowers!”

“If this is your way of redeeming yourself for what you did all those years ago, it’s not working.” 

Betsie’s face fell. “That’s not fair.”

“It never is.” Evelyn righted her chair before walking out into the street.

Evelyn had promised herself she would never bring up the fact that Betsie had turned in Gerald all those years ago. She knew Betsie hadn’t done it out of malevolence. Instead, she had done it out of love for her dearest friend.

Her temper flared and her guard slipped. She would apologize and make things right. First, she needed a little time to cool off.

Some time later, Betsie heard a quick rap at her door. “Well, have you finished your...oh, Carl, uh, you missed her. She left about an hour ago. What are you doing all by yourself?”

Carl, chin tucked, entered her home. He shrugged off his coat and eased himself upon a kitchen chair. 

Betsie eyed him, wary of the state of his mind. “Do you need some tea or...?”

“Is she returning soon?”

“I don’t think so by the way she stormed out.”

He put a hand to his forehead. His brows were drawn high.“What I need is....” He put a fist to his mouth. “I need answers.” Carl’s dark blue inquisitive eyes pleaded with hers.

She smiled reassuringly. “That I can probably help you with. What kind of answers?” 

He let out a small sigh. “Please sit.”

“Evelyn wouldn’t want to see you this way, all agitated.”

A small chuckle filled the void. “If only she knew she was the source.”

“Now what do you mean? Did you have a fight? If so, I can’t help you with that.”

“No, no, it’s...all right. I’ll jump right in.” Carl told Betsie of the bouquet and Evelyn’s moody thoughts at times.

Betsie put a finger to her lips, “I’m not sure...”

“Is there anything you can think of that has to do with such a bouquet, maybe during the time it was just you and her before she found me?”

Betsie’s head slumped into her hands. She itched to get out of this uncomfortable situation. Of course, she knew the answer.

Carl placed both his palms upon her table and leaned toward her, trying to see her face. “You know, don’t you?”

Betsie threw her hands in surrender then fiddled with a stray tablecloth strand. “Yes, but” she looked at him pointedly, “it’s not my place to tell.”

He remained silent.

“I’m sure you feel slighted that she doesn’t trust you with her thoughts and feelings yet. Don’t you remember all those years ago when she told you about her relationship with Gerald after she found you? She trusted you then. She’ll trust you now. Just give her some time.”

“Of course.” He stared at the floor. “You’re right. Just, she’s been a constant source of comfort and stability for me all these years. Now, she’s different, unstable, unsure. I...”

Betsie put an arm upon his shoulder. “Now she needs you to be all those things for her. Her thoughts are running around like chickens with their heads cut off.”

He nodded, a smile gracing his face. “Thank you. Forgive me for not acting like a gentleman, asking you to reveal another’s secrets.”

“I’ve done the same myself, said things I shouldn’t have.” 

“I’ve learned there’s always a way to repair the damage.” 

“I hope so.”

Carl got up and put an affirming hand upon her shoulder. “Thank you. Have a good day.”

Betsie smiled at him and watched him leave. She thought of how different things might have played out would be if she had never turned Gerald over to the authorities for being a spy during the Great War.

***

Evelyn was waiting for him at the meeting place when he arrived. Her hands were stuffed in her coat pockets. The wind, having picked up over the last hour, played with the loose strands of her chocolate brown hair. She wasn’t anticipating his arrival, neither did she look up when he stood before her.

Carl asked, “Dearest, is everything all right?”

Her head snapped up. Plastered upon it was a smile which did not engage her eyes. “Yes, how were you in the city alone?”

“Well as can be. Are you ready?”

Looking at her boots, she nodded.

He took her arm in his and patted it, hoping it would ease her troubled thoughts.