Olivia's Mine Read online

  “Of course not. Frank. You’re hurting me! Let go!”

  “Don’t argue with me Liv. I’m your husband. If I say you’re not going, you’re not going.”

  “You let go of me right now, Frank Patrick Fitzpatrick,” she said. She had never heard him speak to her like that before.

  Frank released his grip. She moved away from him.

  “Look,” he said, “just go down to the store tomorrow and see what’s there. We’ll talk about the wedding when it gets closer. And I’m sorry about the Frenchie remark. It’s just I see the way some of the men look at you, and sometimes I get jealous.”

  “You know what? I think I’ll go down to the store right now and maybe I’ll spend all your grocery money and buy something totally useless,” she said, putting on her winter coat and hat, making sure the door slammed loudly behind her as she left.

  “You do that,” he said. But his disposition had returned to normal. He knew he shouldn’t have said what he said and he knew she needed some time to cool off.

  The air outside was quite cool and there was still a little snow on the ground from a late snow they had experienced last week. She felt her foot was getting wet and noticed a small hole in the toe of the boot.

  “Maybe I’d better get some new boots first,” she thought to herself.

  His money. While it was true she had never earned an income and always survived on the allowances the men in her life had given her, she thought about how wonderful it would be to have money of her own, to save and spend as she pleased, without having to explain anything to anyone. Even Akiko Yada, she thought, earned her own living, as meagre as it may be. She wondered if it gave Akiko a sense of pride, or whether Akiko felt only the burden of financial necessity. She knew Akiko worked long, hard hours. Harry must make a good salary at the mine though, she thought, so it couldn’t be just the need for the money. Maybe, she thought, Akiko got a sense of self from it.

  Olivia may have been naive in thinking that Harry was paid as an equal at the mine, but she was becoming less naive of her current lot in life. She reminisced about the days she would spend with her friends in Seattle, drinking a cup of coffee at a local café. She had rarely been invited out for a simple cup of coffee the whole time she had been at Britannia. Why was everyone so unfriendly?

  “Come to think of it,” she said to herself, “I haven’t actually invited anyone out for coffee myself.”

  That was a revelation. It wasn’t that she never wanted to go have coffee with the neighbours. It’s just that she never found, no, never made, the time.

  She had overheard Mary Alice talking to Mrs. Schwindt about her once when Mary Alice had thought she was out of earshot, and Mary Alice had said that she was a little standoff-ish. Maybe there was some truth in that after all, she thought. Mrs. Schwindt had replied that Olivia seemed to think she was hoity-toity, being from Seattle and all, so Olivia decided to keep clear of the two women, which probably just added fuel to their fire.

  Olivia opened the door to the mercantile and was greeted by Joe Cicceretti, the shopkeeper.

  “Good afternoon Olivia,” he said. “Some sugar for you today? It’s on special this week.”

  “No thanks Joe, not today. Do you happen to have any ladies boots on sale?”

  He took her over to the display. What they had was either too expensive or too old fashioned for her taste. Drab black ankle lace-ups. Maybe when she was sixty, she thought.

  “Can I take a look at the Eaton's catalogue? Maybe they’ve got something. I need a new dress as well. I saw a few I liked the last time I was browsing through it.”

  “I’m sorry Olivia,” he said. “Mr. McMichael made us get rid of the catalogues. He said it was affecting his profit margin. Not enough of one. We’ve got a lovely selection of floral print dresses Mary Alice Jones has made special though, what with spring just around the corner. I’m sure you’re familiar with the design, all the ladies have them.”

  Olivia ignored the sales pitch.

  “How can he get rid of the catalogue? Doesn’t he know it brings us the latest fashions, like all the women in the cities are wearing? So he’s not making a two hundred percent mark-up. At least he’s making some money from it.”

  “Well, some is not all, and you know J.W. It’s all or nothing. He likes to control the prices, and you can’t do that with Eaton's printing how much everything costs. We’re just too small a town to get a big bulk volume. Now how about those dresses? Beautiful empire waists…all hand tatted lace around the collar…”

  “No!” Olivia shouted.

  Joe was taken aback.

  “I’m sorry Joe, it’s just I’m in a bit of a mood, is all. Tell you what, why don’t you get me some of that sugar that’s on sale, I can always use more, and I’ll head off on home.”

  “All right then,” Joe said, silently taking her money and nodding her a good-bye.

  “I am just a ray of sunshine,” Olivia thought to herself.

  Leaving from the store, Olivia noticed that the wind had picked up. She wondered if they were in for yet more snow, as the sky was a threatening colour. Just ahead she saw a woman draped in a long black hooded cape, bundled up from the cold. The woman’s feet were covered in stylish long black leather boots that rose up to her knee. Olivia smiled for a moment. Grieving as she was, Lucy still had style. A red curl peeking out from beneath the hood confirmed her identity. Maybe there was hope for Lucy yet.

  “Lucy!” she shouted.

  Lucy turned around.

  “Come have coffee,” Olivia said. “Please.”

  The wind took a brief rest, allowing both women to catch their breath.

  “Okay,” Lucy said, much to Olivia’s surprise. “I’d like that.”

  The two women walked into the café. More than one head turned when they saw Lucy heading toward a little corner table for two by the window.

  Lucy wiped a tear from her eye.

  “Don’t mind me, it’s just the wind, it always makes my left eye water. I’m not crying. See, the right one is dry. How are you Olivia?” Lucy asked.

  “I should be asking you that.”

  “Oh,” Lucy said, “everyone knows how I am. I’m the talk of the town. Crazy Lucy. They’ve always called me crazy Lucy, but it’s taken on a whole new meaning lately. How are you? How have you settled in? I’m sorry it’s been so long since we’ve talked.”

  “I’m going quite mad,” Olivia admitted.

  For the first time in a year, she did what she needed to do. Olivia sat with Lucy and told her how much she was missing her family, how bored she was getting, how sometimes she found the town depressing, and how she wished something exciting would happen to her so she wouldn’t feel quite so useless. She told Lucy all the things she couldn’t tell Frank.

  For the first time in a year, Lucy did the same thing. She told Olivia she was slowly coming to grips with her new life, a new life alone. That meant getting out more, which was why she ventured out on this rather blustery day.

  “Where did you get that cape?” Olivia asked. “It’s lovely.”

  “Frenchie picked it up somewhere for me. I didn’t ask him to. He just showed up with it one day. Brought it to me at the hospital. It was brand new. He said “Lucy, I ran inta a factery sale down de coast. Dey ‘ad too many so I took one off der hands.” I have no idea where he really got it. I think he paid for it himself, bless his heart. It is lovely though. I wish it wasn’t black, but it is lovely. And his gesture means so much to me.”

  “But black is the only colour we’ve seen you wearing,” Olivia pointed out to her friend.

  “It’s all I wanted to wear for most of the year,” Lucy admitted. “I was really living the crying widow scenario. But when I finally got out of the hospital, I decided I needed to stop grieving so much. Start living life a bit again. I wasn’t quite up to making a trip out of town, especially since my parents were killed.”

  “I heard about that. I’m so sorry,” Olivia interrupted.

 
; “I was talking,” Lucy said, and Olivia thought she saw a slight smile. “I thought I might like to get something new, something a little nicer, so I went down to the store for some new clothes but all they had were these stupid flowered dresses.”

  Olivia laughed.

  “I don’t think I’m quite ready for florals,” Lucy said. “But maybe something in beige.”

  They laughed some more.

  “Liv, I would have liked to talk to you like this before. I’ve seen you many times. But I just wasn’t ready. The day I met you was the day it all happened. My life came to a halt. It wasn’t you, I know that now, it was just the memory of that night that I was associating with you, and with Frank, and with the town…”

  “Where are you living now Lucy? Are you up in the upper village? I really don’t know, I’m sorry.”

  “No, down here. I’m staying with Margaret, one of the nurses I became friends with over at the hospital. She’s older than I am, but she has an extra room, and is kind enough to let me stay. It’s not forever, but it’s fine for now. Like I said, I haven’t ventured out much, but I’m ready to now. I’ve been to the women’s afternoon gatherings, including the quilting bee, and that helped.”

  “I was a bit worried when I heard that,” Olivia admitted.

  “They said you were going for a while but hadn’t been in lately. You know Liv, I learned something. I learned that the women really actually had wonderful things to say if I took the time to listen. And since I wasn’t in the mood for talking, I did a lot of listening. It turned out they were bored and frustrated with the isolation here, just like I was. Just like I still am. The difference is that they had learned to be content with it. I don’t know if I’ll ever be content with it, but my anxiety seems to be in a calmer place these days.”

  “So what’s next for you Lucy?” Olivia asked.

  “I really don’t know,” Lucy admitted. “I have some insurance money, but it’s not going to last me forever. I’m thankful Marty had the foresight to take out life insurance. He even took it out on the children, which surprised me. I didn’t know he had. Still, I’m going to need to find a job to support myself.”

  “A job?” Olivia said. “Are you going to leave?

  “No, I don’t really have anywhere else I want to be, now that my parents are gone. I’d like to find one here in town,” she replied.

  “That sounds wonderful. Doing what?”

  “That’s the problem, I’m not quite sure. I have no skills. I can’t type. I don’t know bookkeeping. It’s not going to be easy.”

  “Maybe Mr. McMichael can find you something?”

  “Mr. McMichael thinks the widow Bentall is quite insane.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that’s not true. Frank said that McMichael always liked you. He said he was always complimenting you, telling everyone how lovely you are.”

  “Oh, I’m sure that part’s true. He came to visit me a few times at the hospital. It’s fair to say I wasn’t my best, especially when he was breaking the news about my parents. He doesn’t look at me quite the same way anymore.”

  “I’m sure he still thinks you’re lovely. Frank says he has quite the crush on you and that the men are taking odds on, well, the two of you getting together some time.”

  Lucy laughed.

  “No. That won’t happen. I just don’t find him attractive. I know a lot of women do. He’s a handsome man. But…”

  Lucy’s thoughts wandered for a moment.

  “You’ll find something, for work I mean,” Olivia assured her. “Listen, since you want to get out more, why don’t you come for Easter dinner? Maybe we can come up with some job ideas for you, together? Frank and I would love to have you.”

  “I’ll think about it,” Lucy said. “It happens to be my birthday this year. Easter, I mean. Could there be some cake, do you think?”

  “I think that could be arranged.”

  “Then I think I will accept your kind invitation. Thank you Liv.”

  “That’s wonderful Lucy,” she said, and gave her friend a hug.

  Olivia returned home humming a light melody, closing the door quietly behind her.

  Frank sighed in relief.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The full moon was shining its light through the window as Akiko swept the floor in the mining office. The clock, striking one, reminded her that it was getting late. Finishing, she closed the door to McMichael’s office, pausing to spell out the lettering on the nameplate on the door.

  “J. W. M-c-M-i- c- h-a-e-l,” she spelled, reading the name out loud as she did every night. “J. W. McMichael.”

  She had learned her English ABC’s the hard way, listening as her husband taught them to Jimmy when he was young. Even today, sometimes when she got stuck, she would sing the letters out. This was her classroom, alone at night at the office where she could practice reading and speaking as she cleaned. No one was usually around to criticize her or think she was slow.

  She wiped away some of her long black hair that had escaped her ponytail and hung in her eyes. It had been a long day and she was growing tired. One more room to clean and she could go home. She always left Sarah’s office to the end. Some days Sarah’s office got a little out of control, but Akiko had been there long enough to wipe up the spills and know what not to throw out, and occasionally, what to keep when it had been thrown away.

  Sarah, being Sarah, was extremely appreciative of this, and often left Akiko a little something in their secret hiding spot, a brown cardboard box tucked out of sight under Sarah’s desk. It began one night when Sarah had returned to work to retrieve her purse. She startled Akiko when she came in, and she could tell Akiko was hiding something behind her back. Sarah noticed Akiko’s meal beside her.

  “Having a little snack, Akiko?” she asked.

  Akiko nodded ashamedly.

  “Not to worry,” Sarah smiled. “You’re entitled to a break just like everyone else is. I won’t say anything. What do you have behind your back?”

  Akiko realized that Sarah might have thought she was stealing something, so she took from behind her back what she had been afraid to show her. It was a child’s picture book.

  Sarah saw the pain in Akiko’s eyes and knew that she was reading the book for herself.

  “Oh, she said. That’s a good book. I read it to Mrs. Cook’s children when I was baby-sitting them a few years back. I think it’s wonderful that you are learning to read English Akiko!” Sarah said. “Do you have any more books?”

  Akiko shook her head.

  “Baby Jimmy,” she said.

  It was the first time Sarah had heard Akiko say anything in English, ever.

  “Well, your son Jimmy’s grown quite a bit since then. Why don’t I get you a copy of one of his primary readers from the schoolhouse so you can read together?”

  Akiko shook her head and Sarah saw a tear coming from her eye.

  “Well then,” Sarah said, “maybe you’d just like to learn by yourself, hmm?”

  Akiko pointed at the pictures and then moved her fingers under the words.

  Sarah understood what the woman so desperately wanted her to know, but couldn’t say.

  “Words and pictures,” Sarah said. “I understand, Akiko. That’s how you learn. That’s how we all learned.”

  A smile passed between the two women, signalling the beginning of their silent friendship.

  Sometimes Akiko would leave some cookies or some tea for Sarah’s morning coffee. But Sarah, oh sometimes Sarah left some wonderful things for Akiko, and this was one of those nights. Inside the box, Akiko found one of the McMichael banned Eaton's catalogues, an old one, but new to Akiko. She had never had the opportunity to look through one before; although she knew what it was. There was some jam from Sarah’s morning toast on the torn corner, and the book had been well thumbed through. Akiko smiled. There was a little note attached in what Akiko had come to recognize as Sarah’s handwriting. Akiko began to spell and struggled as she sounded the words out.
The note said simply:

  Words and pictures

  From Sarah

  Akiko opened the catalogue. How wonderful! There were pictures of everyday common things, everyday adult common things, all laid out like a child’s picture book. She pointed at the pictures and tried to make out the words beside them. “D-r-e-s-s,” she spelled, then “$8.95.”

  Akiko reached into the pocket of her apron and found the piece of cake she had brought from home. She slipped it into the box. She reached in her pocket again and found Harry’s measuring tape. She had seen Sarah looking at some bedroom curtains in the catalogue and remembered that Sarah said they were lovely but she could not afford them. She didn’t understand everything Sarah said, but Sarah had pointed to the pictures of the curtains and sighed woefully. Akiko had figured it out.

  The next day, while Sarah was at work, Akiko rose early and went to Sarah’s parents’ house. She measured the bedroom window she knew to be Sarah’s from the outside of the house. What good, she asked her self, was having all the silk she had brought from Japan, rotting in a cedar trunk?

  Three day later, Sarah cried when she came in one morning and found hand sewn silk curtains, exactly the size of her bedroom window in her home, folded neatly and placed in the secret box. They were the same colour as the one’s she had seen in the catalogue. There was a note, which in handwriting not unlike a child’s said:

  C-u-r-t-a-i-n-s

  From Akiko.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The tenor voice was loud and booming, and more than a little off key, as Olivia made her way down to the wharf. It was a beautiful Easter morning and many of the women were wearing their spring best, including new Easter bonnets for the occasion. They had been conveniently on sale the week before at the general store. Still overpriced, but on sale just the same. The wind picked up a little, and Olivia’s newly white-gloved hand reached to steady the hat Frank had bought her. It was quite a nice hat actually, for having been picked out by a man who took little interest in the latest ladies’ fashions.