I can’t see it. Where’s the end? Sheila had been hiking the bush for hours. Her
thoughts were going in circles. The forest had been beautiful that morning in
the fullness of fall colours. But with the darkness coming soon and Harry at
her side, Sheila felt the beginnings of panic.
Harry whined, again.
“I’m hungry. I’m tired. Let’s go home now.”
Sheila tried very hard
to put on a brave face. She knew it would help keep her own spirits up as well
as Harry’s. “I know. We’re almost there.” There was no way she was going to
help him her real thoughts. “Let’s sing a bit.”
Sheila had taken her
little brother for a hike to get him away from home. Home was beginning to be
too uncomfortable, almost downright unpleasant. It seemed their father was
always in a bad mood these days. Sheila knew he was worried, though she wasn’t
quite sure why. And Lisa was so demanding. That Lisa! She was the source of all
the troubles. Sheila was sure of it.
But Sheila knew she had
to push those thoughts down. She remembered the sign posted at the entrance to
the woods warning of recent bear sightings. It reminded hikers what to do if
they saw a bear: speak calmly and back away.
“Let’s sing ‘Going on a
Bear Hunt’,” she said. It was one of Harry’s favorite songs.
“We’re going on a bear
hunt. We’re going to catch a big one. What a beautiful day! We’re not scared.”
Maybe not a good choice
for a too-long hike in the woods. Oh well, too late now.
While they were singing,
Sheila kept her eyes peeled. She was looking for the slashes on the trees that
would show the trail. She also was looking for footprints in the mud. She’d
heard that people who were lost ended up going in circles; she didn’t want that
to happen to them. Sheila thought she knew these woods cold; she’d been hiking
them all her life. But somehow nothing looked familiar.
Wait, what was that? She
tugged at Harry, pulling him over to the hill on the right. It looked like a
building. It was! An old school house. Sheila didn’t remember ever seeing it
before.
Harry revived with the
excitement of the discovery. “Can we go in and explore?”
The schoolroom smelled
dank, unused. And yet, here and there were signs that someone had been there
recently: a granola bar wrapper, a plastic water bottle. And there, in the
corner, a blanket, neatly folded, a small pillow and a flashlight.
“Ooo,” said Harry, “it’s
kind of creepy in here. Let’s go.”
But Sheila was drawn to
that corner. She picked up the flashlight and tried the switch. The sudden
light illuminated the corners and sent dark shadows leaping to the ceiling. She
knelt beside the blanket and put out her hand.
“Don’t touch it!” Harry
looked frightened.
“Look Harry, there’s a
little stuffed teddy bear here, tucked into the blanket. I guess our bear hunt
song worked. We’ve hunted down a real bear.”
Harry’s mood immediately
lightened. He crouched down beside Sheila and pulled something out from
underneath the blanket.
A notebook. Sheila
looked at it. On the cover were the words, ‘Property of Lisa Chadwick, 52 Elm
St., Big River, Ontario, Canada, the World. The handwriting was childlike; the
notebook pages yellowed with age.
Lisa Chadwick, that’s Dad’s new wife. What was going one? Inside the notebook were several stories; seemingly a child’s English class exercises. Then on one page a name repeated over and over – Jim Marshall. Hearts were drawn all over the page. Sheila suddenly understood that her dad and Lisa had known each other long ago, before Dad married Sheila’s mom.
“Okay, let’s get out of here.” Sheila took Harry’s hand and the flashlight.
Lisa Chadwick, that’s Dad’s new wife. What was going one? Inside the notebook were several stories; seemingly a child’s English class exercises. Then on one page a name repeated over and over – Jim Marshall. Hearts were drawn all over the page. Sheila suddenly understood that her dad and Lisa had known each other long ago, before Dad married Sheila’s mom.
“Okay, let’s get out of here.” Sheila took Harry’s hand and the flashlight.
As soon as they were
back outside, Sheila saw lights moving slowly off to the right. “C’mon Harry,
there’s the road.” Running over to it, Sheila suddenly realized where they
were. The headlights of the truck approached. “It’s Dad!”
He saw them too.
“Sheila! Harry! We’ve been worried sick! Where have you been?”
“We’ve just come from
the old schoolhouse,” said Sheila.
“Yeah and we found a
bear!” shouted Harry. But from the look on their dad’s face he quickly added,
“Not a real bear; just a little teddy bear.”
“Oh, you found that did
you?”
Well it seemed Dad
already knew about it. “Dad what’s going on? Did you and Lisa know each other
when you were kids?”
“Let’s go home; hop in
the truck. I’ll just call Lisa and let he know I’ve found you. She’s worried
sick.”
No one said much in the
truck. Sheila was remembering the row Lisa and Dad had been having when she and
Harry walked out. They both seemed grouchy a lot of the time, but Sheila knew
Lisa was a worrier too.
When they got back Sheila
and Jim went straight to the living room, walking right past Lisa who was
waiting with a hug. Little Harry brushed off the hug, but grabbed the peanut
butter sandwich Lisa had waiting. He followed his sister and dad to the sagging
sofa.
“Dad, why don’t you just
tell me? I know you two knew each other. You’re still keeping secrets. Who are
you trying to protect?” Sheila felt the tension in her dad. Her curiosity was
turning to anger.
Lisa hung back, feeling
excluded. But she could hear their conversation. Shocked, she realized it was
about her. Sheila had found the teddy bear Lisa had left in the old
schoolhouse, and the old notebook. Oh my
god, what will she think of me now?
Lisa came into the
living room. “Jim, let me tell the story.
“Sheila, Harry, your dad
and I knew each other as kids. We went to school together. Yes, in that little
schoolhouse you found today. We were best friends when we were little and then
when we were teenagers we went to the dances and hayrides together.”
Sheila was watching her
warily. Harry was trying not to let jam ooze out of his sandwich. Jim was
looking out the window.
Lisa took a deep breath.
She seemed to be wondering how to continue. “I loved your dad. We were so
young. Well, I got pregnant.”
Sheila’s eyes widened.
She stared at the tears in Lisa’s eyes.
“Yes and I was so
scared. I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t tell my parents. I couldn’t tell
anyone. I was only fifteen.”
Lisa looked
back up at Sheila, then over to Jim. “Finally I told your dad. I had to. I
couldn’t tell my parents. I only had my teddy bear to tell and teddy couldn’t
help me. I thought then that your dad was angry. But now I know he was just
scared – as scared as me. We kind of got into a tussle. I fell down against the
big rock in the schoolyard. I lost the baby. You don’t need to know the
details. It wasn’t his fault. Maybe it would have happened anyway.” Lisa was
crying now, tears streaming silently down her face.
Sheila looked horrified;
Harry puzzled, licking jam off his fingers. But Jim, well he looked relieved.
Later that evening,
after the soup was eaten, the homework done, Lisa and Jim went back to the
sofa.
“You mean you don’t
blame me? Really?”
“No, I don’t Jim. I just
realized it today. It wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t my fault. It just was. I
couldn’t have looked after a baby then. It’s just as well. And I love Sheila
and Harry so much – as much as if I’d birthed them myself.”
Jim’s arm crept around
her shoulder and held her close. “I’ve felt so guilty all these years.”
Sheila left her
listening post in the kitchen, quietly crept upstairs and opened the door to
Harry’s room. She smiled to herself when she saw Harry’s teddy bear on the
floor. She picked it up and tucked it into bed beside her sleeping brother.
Lynda Sturgeoff is a retired Ph.D. chemist,
has finally found the light. After years of reading, writing, and editing
technical reports she is now taking her writing into the creative arena. This
is aided and abetted by Brian Henry's writing class. She is currently working on
a piece of creative nonfiction, thus combining the two solitudes.
See Brian
Henry’s schedule here, including Saturday
writing workshops, weekly writing classes, and weekend
retreats in Algonquin Park, Alliston, Bolton, Barrie, Brampton,
Burlington, Caledon, Collingwood, Georgetown, Georgina, Guelph, Hamilton,
Jackson’s Point, Kitchener-Waterloo, London, Midland, Mississauga, New
Tecumseth, Oakville, Ottawa, Peterborough, St. Catharines, Sudbury, Toronto,
Windsor, Woodstock, Halton, Muskoka, Peel, Simcoe, York Region, the GTA,
Ontario and beyond.
Lovely story
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