Ghost of My Heart—Chapter 3—Slip of the Tongue

Chapter 3

“Carl, would you mind if I went into town to purchase a new dress for the public luncheon at Pier 21?” Evelyn asked.

Glasses dangling upon the curve of his nose, Carl was hunched over some papers in his cramped office. “Uh, yes, I believe you can.” He reached over to his filing cabinet and pulled out a long box, housing some of the family savings. “Here, will this do?”

Evelyn took the money. “This is more than enough, thank you.” She turned to leave the room but stopped.

Carl held his breath, hoping this was the moment she would share why her thoughts were embroiled.

She murmured, “I know I’ve been quiet recently. I’ve...come across some information that I need to think over. Really, I’m not sure how to think of it. When I’m ready, I’ll tell you.”

Carl placed his arms around Evelyn. He gazed upon her troubled face. “Perhaps I can provide some insight.”

Her eyes flitted from him to the floor. “Maybe you could. However, if I tell you, I know it will be a blow. Not only will the knowledge of it be injurious but also how it has had so much power over me this long while.”

He placed his forehead upon hers. “We can hurt together. I’m here for you.”

She shook her head and leaned away before saying, “I can’t let you hurt any more than necessary. You’ve had too much pain in this lifetime.” She grabbed her purse and closed the door without glancing backward.

After buying her dress, Evelyn swung by Betsie’s place. She rang the bell and was greeted by Betsie’s hesitant face. “I was hoping you’d be here. May I come in?”

Betsie drew her friend into an exuberant embrace. “Of course, you can. I’m sorry for dropping a bomb on you last time.”

Evelyn squeezed tight. “I should apologize for stomping out of here instead of calmly discussing it with you. Anyway, there’s nothing to talk about because we don’t know anything, do we?”

“Oh, Evelyn, I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll come with me to the public’s engagement at Pier 21.”

“Yes...I’ve heard of it.”

“Carl can’t go. It’s too large of a crowd for him to handle. Clyde said he might be able to swing by. Please say you will.”

“When is it?”

“November 27, just a few days away.”

“Perfect. The hospital is giving me fewer hours and...what?” Betsie’s eyebrows rose in response to Evelyn’s concerned look.

Betsie lifted her shoulders. “The truth is I’m getting old. Don’t look as good as I used to. Can’t do as much as I used to. It’s very generous of them to let me stay on part-time.”

Evelyn patted Betsie’s arm. “I’m glad you can come.”

The following days, as the news of Gerald’s possible return to life became less and less of a new development, Evelyn became more composed and focused on home life. She renewed her attentiveness toward the children and opened up to Carl of her thoughts, and her comings and goings.

The day of the public lunch at Pier 21, Carl helped Evelyn with the clasp of her pearl necklace. He tenderly kissed the hollow behind her ear and whispered, “You look beautiful in that dress...just as you do without it.”

She whirled around to face him and tapped his nose, saying, “What a rascal!” Her mirth settled to awe as she said, “Truly, it is good to hear you say that after all this time, after three children.”

He twirled her and said, “Have fun! Tell me all about it when you return.”

At the entrance of Pier 21, Betsie found Evelyn wearing a dapper salmon pink coat and matching cloche hat. “Trying to be more daring?”

Evelyn rolled her eyes, “Yes, trying to liven my colour. Goodbye to greys, beiges, and neutral colours.”

They linked arms and entered. There were journalists all around holding pads of paper, pencils perched upon their ears. Evelyn watched photographers taking pictures of the facilities, capturing the essence of the landmark which had already welcomed thousands upon thousands of immigrants from Europe. Long buffet tables displayed finger foods, cold meat, cheeses, bread, and more.

The excitement of Halifax’s new chapter infected Evelyn. As she stood looking around, she wondered how it would be, to be an immigrant seeing Canada for the very first time. Would they find new opportunities for their families and themselves? Where were they housed until they could board the trains that would take them to their final destinations? Would they stay here?

Evelyn glanced around to find Betsie talking to an acquaintance.

Betsie raised her shoulders in apology. The woman seemed to be quite a chatter. Betsie plastered a fake smile on her face as she patiently listened.

Taking in the sight of the terminal, Evelyn backed up a couple steps and bumped into a well-muscled surface. Her hand flew to her open mouth as she sharply drew in a breath. She turned around and found she had interrupted two men conversing. The affected man turned to face her. His face, twisted in astonishment, made her feel worse.

He cried, “Ev...Ever so sorry, miss! I didn’t see you there!”

“No, it was my fault. I was so caught up with...all of this.”

“Yes, it’s quite something, isn’t it? Forgive me, chap, I’ll catch up with you later on. Let me tend to the lady.”

The other man tipped his hat and walked off.

He said, “Well, can I get you something to drink?” 

“You’re too kind, but no.”

“I insist.”

“All right. A glass of water will do.” As he fetched it, she couldn’t help but wonder if she had met him before. “Have I ever met you?” she asked when he returned. “Perhaps at the newspaper company my husband works for?”

“Well, I am a journalist. However, no, I’ve never set foot upon Canadian soil before. I’m from London. Just passing through to see my sister in Ottawa. I’ve also come to visit your fair land, to be inspired.”

Evelyn smiled. “I hope it does itself justice. It may not have great cathedrals or boast the works of Shakespeare, but it’s filled with hardworking men and women who’ve made it beautiful in its own way.”

“It undoubtedly is beautiful.”

“How long have you been in journalism?”

“Oh, it’s been several years. I was in another trade before this. Did quite well in it. Then I decided I needed a change. Finding a story and following it to the very end seemed to be the trick to satisfy the restlessness inside me.”

“My husband’s a writer, as well. Not in journalism—he’s working on a non-fiction work. He’s an editor by trade. Dreams of becoming published.”

“Really? I’ve got a friend back in London who publishes non-fiction. He particularly specializes within the last two decades.”

“The book my husband is now working on has to do with the repercussions of the explosion that took place here about a decade ago. It’s almost done. He’s on his last round of edits.”

“I believe we were meant to find each other, Miss...?”

“It’s Mrs., but please call me Evelyn.”

“Evelyn...this same friend of mine has been looking to publish a work such as the one you’ve described.”

“You must come over for supper and meet with my husband before you go west to visit your sister.” 

“I’d be delighted to meet your husband.”

“And children.”

“Children?”

“Yes, four of them. One is adopted. The other three are not.”

He held Evelyn’s gaze a good few seconds before saying, “If your family is as charming as you, then we shall have a wonderful time.“I know how hard it is for authors to find the right publisher. If I can do your husband and my friend a service, it would be my pleasure.”

“I’m glad we met.” Evelyn stuck out her hand.“Likewise.” The gentleman’s soft blond curls bounced softly. “I’m Richard Gable. Now, you must tell me where I can find you.”

***

The following Saturday, Evelyn met Richard at the tram station nearest her home. He was sharply dressed in a white suit, complemented by his Panama hat.

He bowed and produced a bouquet of flowers from behind his back. “A gift for the hostess.” 

“You shouldn’t have. How very kind!”

He put out his arm for her. “Where are we off to?”

She pointed down the road. “This way.”

The camaraderie which settled between the two was effortless. He had a delightful sense of humour, to which she responded many a time by throwing her head back in tinkling laughter.

When they neared the house, the children poured out, one after another.

Eager to meet a new face and to have the chance to regale him with all her fanciful stories, Clara bounced up and down while gripping her mother’s skirts.

Evelyn stooped to her level and introduced her daughter to Richard. 

“How do you do?” Clara shook Richard’s hand.

“My, you’ve got quite a grip don’t you?”

“You don’t know the half of it,” she grinned mischievously.

Evelyn stood up. “This is Robert, the middle child, and Gerry, my oldest.” 

“Gerry?” An inquisitive smirk graced his lips.

“Yes, short for Gerald.”

Richard shook Robert’s and Gerry’s hands. “Both strong names. How do you do?” 

Both boys replied, “Very well, thank you, sir.”

Richard looked at Evelyn expectantly, “You said there was a fourth.” 

“Yes, Clyde. He now studies at Dalhousie.”

“You must be very proud.”

Evelyn glimpsed Carl at the opening of the door. She indicated with a throw of her chin for Richard and the children to follow. “Carl, this is Richard, the journalist I met at Pier 21. Richard, this is my husband, Carl.”

Carl gave him a robust handshake and said, “Welcome to our home. Please make yourself comfortable.”

Most of the dinner table conversation was centred around Richard’s connection and how Carl could get in touch about publishing. Also, Richard expounded a little about the work he did.

Carl asked, “So you’re here to see your sister?” 

Richard replied, “Yes, she lives in Ottawa.” 

“How long has it been since you’ve seen her?” 

“Oh, about six years ago.”

“You’ve haven’t visited her before now?”

“No, our relations have been strained for many years, even before she immigrated here.”

“What does your sister do?” Evelyn asked.

“Well,” Richard swallowed. “I’m not entirely sure. I believe she might have something to do with the arts.”

“How exciting! Has she been in any plays of late?”

“I really couldn’t tell you.”

Evelyn rose from the table and said, “If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen, I believe it’s bedtime for the children. Clara, Robert, Gerry, please bring your dishes to the sink and off to upstairs. Say goodnight to Father and Mr. Gable.”

The children said goodnight as directed and received hugs from their father. Evelyn turned to smile at the gentlemen before walking upstairs to tuck the children in.

Carl observed Richard eyeing the children and their mother heading upstairs.

Richard turned to Carl and said, “You, sir, are a very lucky man to have such a beautiful family.”

Carl cleared his throat. “And you? Are you not married? Children?”

“Sadly no, it wasn’t in the cards. As I said, it’s just me and my sister. Seven years seems a lifetime ago.”

“Six or seven?”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Before you said six. Now you say seven. Which is it?”

Richard tapped his forehead, “Did I? My head’s a little foggy tonight. You’re right. It’s been six years as I originally said.”

An awkward silence ensued.

Richard pushed his chair back a little. “Well, I must really be on my way back home.”

Evelyn was just returning when she heard Richard’s plan to go home. “Thank you, Mr. Gable, for coming to our home and connecting with my husband. It was a pleasure.” She stuck out her hand to shake his.

“Please, call me Richard.” He took her fingers in his and kissed the top of her hand. “Carl, it was a pleasure. I’ll be sure to write to my friend about your work and to pass on your contact information.” The men shook hands, and Richard went out into the night. 

Carl, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, watched Evelyn clear the food. “I believe he finds you charming.”

She looked up and smiled. “Don’t you find me charming?”

He eased himself upright and helped. “Yes...I just don’t know how I feel about his thinking so.”

“I love his lilting British accent.” Evelyn fluttered her lashes in exaggeration and chuckled.

“It’s odd.”

She stopped piling the dishes. “How so?”

“It’s unlike any I’ve ever heard. Almost a strange blend of two different regions. I met a lot of Brits back when...well, you know.”

“Are you jealous?”

“What if I am?”

“You’re...endearing, sweet.”

He swaggered to her side. “How sweet?”

She kissed him, enjoying his clean-shaven skin. “This sweet.”

***

A few days later, as Evelyn was busy dusting the house, she heard a knock on the door. “Coming!” She wiped her hands upon her apron and put down the feather duster. “Richard! What a surprise! Please do come in! Have you any news?”

He removed his hat and wiped his shoes on the rug in front of the door. “Yes, is Carl here?”

“No, he should be back soon. He’s keeping an eye out for our neighbour’s property while they’re away. Would you like some tea or coffee?”

“Tea, please.”

“Please sit and make yourself comfortable.”

He did so as Evelyn removed her apron and put the kettle on in the kitchen.

She returned and sat with him. “Good news?”

“Yes, my friend is eager to look at Carl’s manuscript. He’s sure to give him a deal.”

Evelyn clasped her hands together. “How wonderful! Thank you so much for everything you’ve done. I’m so glad we met.”

“I feel the same. I was going to leave in a couple of days; however, I feel so inspired here that I must stay for some time.”

“I’m happy to hear so. Perhaps, you’ll meet my oldest son.” 

“I should very much like that. What is he studying?”

“He’s studying to become a physician.”

“Is he? What made him choose such a profession?”

Evelyn was silent as she peered into his bright blue eyes. “He and I were intimately acquainted with a doctor about eleven years ago. Doctor MacCrae looked after Clyde, my son, right after the explosion and introduced the two of us. He looked after the both of us until my husband was found.”

“What happened to this doctor?”

Evelyn’s voice lowered. “He died.”

Richard’s hand covered hers. “I can see he was very dear to you. I’m so sorry.” He withdrew his hand and sipped his tea.

As Carl walked up the front steps of his home, he spotted an elegant cane propped next to the front door. He looked through the window to find Richard Gable seated across his wife. His hand was atop hers. He watched as their conversation moved from a personal matter to lighthearted banter.

Carl opened the door.

Evelyn exclaimed, “Carl, Richard has wonderful news concerning your manuscript.”

Richard cut in, “Yes, I came to inform you of my friend’s interest. I phoned him, and he said he wants it sent out immediately. Do you have a ready copy?”

“I need a day to get it all in order. Can I come to your hotel and drop it off there? Where are you staying?”

“I’m staying at the Lord Nelson. But please, don’t trouble yourself. I’ll come by tomorrow to pick it up.” 

A shrill voice called from the back door. “Evelyn!”

“Excuse me,” she whispered, “It’s Mrs. Doyle, probably needing an egg or two.”

Richard grabbed his hat. “I must be off myself.”

Carl offered, “Let me see you to the door.” Before Richard reached the porch steps, Carl asked, “Where did you say you were from again?"

“I’m from London, but I grew up in Shropshire.”

“Really? Your accent sounds a bit odd to have come from Shropshire.” 

“Does it now? I’ve never been told that. Have you been to England before?” 

“I served with the British boys back in the war.”

“Ah, when I return to England, I shall ameliorate my accent so as not to insult my home region, good day.”

Carl waved goodbye.

Evelyn called from the back. “Carl, I’m going over to Mrs. Doyle’s for a bit. Is that all right?” 

“Yes, dear.”

Once Evelyn was out of the house, Carl dialled Clyde’s number. “Clyde, I need you to do something for me.”