The facilities weren't ideal, but everyone kept their sense of humour. Once the colour was done, Maurice rolled up his sleeves and gave every one of them a five-hundred-dollar haircut. The girls couldn't take their eyes off one another.
Vicky clapped her hands. “Joey is gonna die when he sees me.”
Maurice gave them beautiful up-do's, placed their tiaras in their hair and shook glitter over them. All that was left was the makeup, and Maurice took his time with each of them. When they were done, the girls were speechless. They took turns hugging Maurice and thanked him from the bottom of their hearts.
Maurice dabbed his eyes with his scarf as they left. “Those darling children. They were so grateful! I've been jaded by dreary socialites. I really must get out more.”
Ava and Lola put on fresh tea and brought out the tray of squares always on hand in Aunt Vi's kitchen. As Lars and Philippe did the dirty job of tidying up, Maurice and Harold sat at the kitchen table and delivered the scandalous news from tinsel town. Ava was brought up to date on who was having sex with whom, who had a court order against the paparazzi, who'd gone into detox and who'd had breast augmentation. Aunt Vi's eyes grew bigger by the minute. She said, “Go way with ya,” every two minutes until Maurice asked her if she really wanted him to leave. She thought that was great.
The instruments of beauty were eventually packed away and a tired-looking Maurice said it was time to go. He kissed everyone goodbye, even a shocked Uncle Angus.
Ava walked out to the car with him, arm in arm. She said goodbye to Harold and the others while Maurice lingered behind.
“So, my love. Are you all right? You look a little peaked.”
Maurice had been her soft shoulder for eight long years. She hugged him again and sighed into his label. “I'm so confused.”
“About the boy?”
“Yes.”
“You know what I say, little one. It all comes out in the rinse water. What is meant to happen will happen, so take your time.”
“I love you.”
“Of course you do. Who wouldn't?”
She gave him a squeeze. “Thank you for today.”
“For you, anything.” He kissed her and started for the limo but before he disappeared, he blew a giant kiss to Geranium. Down she went again.
Ava waved them off. She was lonely when they were gone.
But she didn't have time to linger. There was the Grand March to get to. She and Lola decided to go when Thelma Steele next door said she'd pass the evening with Vi and Angus and Mamie. As much as Ava wanted to go, she didn't want to upstage the girls. She told her sisters that if there was a scene caused by autograph hounds, she'd leave. It was their night with their daughters and as much as she wanted to be there, they came first.
Thankfully, no one made a fuss. They were too interested in their own flesh and blood, so she and Lola sat like all the others, soaking up the sight of young people in their finery. As Vicky, Emily, and Samantha went by at regular intervals with their dates, they threw her big smiles and she gave them a little wave. Like every year, when it was time for daughters to dance with their fathers, and boys with their mothers, there wasn't a dry eye in the joint.
A million pictures were taken and then the adults were ushered out and the kids were let loose to make their own fun at the dance. Parents lingered in the parking lot, remarking on how fabulous everyone looked. A great many of her sisters' friends came up and remarked how pretty the girls were, but Ava thought, in the end, they really looked like all the others. Maurice hadn't gone overboard and Ava was grateful for that. They were young girls, not actresses.
And then it was over. All that excitement, all the waiting and planning and shopping. It was a bit of a let-down.
When Ava and Lola returned home, they entertained Aunt Vi and Uncle Angus with some of the shots from Ava's digital camera.
“Why don't you go upstairs and show your Ma? She'd love to see it.” Ava went up to relieve Thelma. As Thelma left, she whispered, “I'm not sure she's so good tonight. She seemed a little short of breath, but then I haven't seen her that much.”
Ava thanked her and told her not to worry; they'd take care of it, even if it meant calling the doctor. She sat by her mother and held her hand. Mamie fluttered her eyelashes but her eyes remained closed. She spoke so softly, Ava could hardly hear her.
“How did it go?”
“It was beautiful.” She felt her mother's forehead. “Ma, I think I better call the doctor. You're a little pale and Thelma said you seemed to have trouble breathing.”
She squeezed her hand slightly. “Please don't.”
Ava wasn't sure what to do.
“Don't leave me.”
She remained where she was, holding her mother's hand. Mamie smiled a little and whispered, “You were born during a snow storm, did you know that?”
“No.”
“It was an awful night, and we couldn't get to the hospital. I had you right here on this bed.”
“You did?”
“All the kids were down in the kitchen and when the midwife handed you to your father, he took you downstairs and sat in the rocking chair so everyone could see you.”
Ava bit her lip.
“They all suggested names. Gerard wanted to call you Old Yeller, because you cried a lot.”
“Typical.”
“We were very happy you came into the world.”
Ava lowered her cheek on the back of her mother's hand. Mamie reached out with her other hand and placed it on her daughter's head.
“Life and death in this old bed. And all that's in between is the love.”
Ava's tears fell.
“Be happy, child. Find peace.”
“I will Ma. I'll try.” She lifted her head and looked at her mother's face. It seemed different. Her heart raced a little. “I think I should call someone.”
“Don't. Please. Just sit with me.”
She sat for an hour. Her mother stopped talking, breathing in and out with shallow intakes of air. And then suddenly she gave a little gasp.
“What is it, Ma? Please let me get you some help.”
She was barely audible. “Your father's here.”
Ava didn't move. No. This couldn't be happening. Not with just her in the room. What about the others? They'd want to be here. But before she could get out of the chair, her mother's face turned to the wall and she stopped breathing.
Ava stared in disbelief. In the end, her mother wanted only her in the room. A very old dam burst then and there and she howled with the pain of it. Great sobs racked her body.
She didn't have to summon anyone. They came running to her.
Seamus didn't want to admit it to himself, but he was badly shaken by what had transpired between the two of them. Trouble was, he didn't have a chance to examine his own heart closely because real life kept interfering.
There was the rush to get Sarah to the doctor. She was miserable and feverish when he picked her up and he felt terrible that she cried in her car seat all the way in. She wanted a hug but he had to drive. Colleen offered to come too, but it was more helpful for her to watch Jack. A dose of antibiotics did the trick eventually, and she was right as rain, but Seamus felt guilty dropping Sarah off at daycare. When the kids were sick, he always worried that he didn't know enough and that he'd let Sally down. These were the days when he missed his wife the most.
Seamus found himself at the cemetery one day after work. He often went, always with a few flowers. He wished there was a bench to sit on so he didn't have to kneel awkwardly in front of her or stand feeling useless above her.
“I'm sorry, Sally. I love you. I'm so confused. She means nothing and she means everything. It's complicated. But it doesn't take away from you. I'm forever grateful that we found each other, because what would I do without Jack and Sarah? They were meant to be. I know that.”
He kissed his fingers and touched the grass in front of the headstone. He was about to leave when he saw Sally's mother, Lynn, coming between the rows. She was a nice looking woman, sort of round, with flyaway graying hair she tried to keep in a bun. She had daisies and buttercups in a little container.
“Hi, Seamus.”
“Hi, Lynn. How are you?”
“Never good when I come here.”
“No.”
She placed the flowers on the ground and patted it, as if to say, I'll be with you in a minute. Lynn straightened up and smiled. “How are my beautiful grandchildren?”
“Sarah had an ear infection earlier in the week. It's better now.”
“Thank goodness. Sally used to get ear infections, I remember. Must run in the family.”
Seamus nodded.
Lynn looked at him. “Are you all right, dear?”
“I'm okay.”
“You know, Sally's father and I will take the children any time you need us. As a matter of fact, I wanted to ask if I could have them for the weekend. Our dog had puppies and now that they're a few weeks old, I thought the kids would like to see them.”
He cleared his throat but his voice was husky. “That would be great.”
“Honeyâ”
He held his thumb and forefinger over his eyes to try and get himself under control.
Lynn put her hand on his arm. “There, there, pet. I know. I know all about it.”
He stepped backwards and held his cuff to his nose.
Lynn reached in her pocket. “I always have tissue. I can't come here otherwise.” She passed it to him.
“Thanks.”
“I know it doesn't feel like it, but it's better to let your emotions out.”
“I guess so.”
“Is there anything I can do?”
He shook his head.
“You must miss your mother.”
Seamus looked over the field of headstones. “I miss her a lot. Seems like all the women in my life leave me.”
Lynn looked concerned. “I'm sure that's how it must feel.” She looked out over the horizon too and didn't say anything for a few moments. “You know, Seamus, I've been meaning to have a word with you. I have a feeling I know what you're upset about.”
He felt a chill. “Oh?”
“I hear Libby MacKinnon is back in town, or Ava Harris, or whatever she's called now.”
He nodded but stayed quiet, unsure where she was going with this.
She gave a big sigh and clasped her hands in front of her. “I feel I can say this, because I have a vested interest in it. Not because I'm Sally's mother, but because you're the father of my grandchildren.”
“Go on.”
“Everyone in this town knows about you and Libby. Certainly Sally was more than aware of it and was quite insecure about it, if the truth be told.”
“I loved Sally.”
She held her hands up. “Oh, I know, dear. I'm not saying you didn't. I just know that Sally felt very lucky to have you because she knew how much you loved Libby. So what I'm saying is, you're not betraying her memory if you talk to Libby again or associate with her.”
Seamus looked at his feet. He felt a rush of relief and his shoulders sagged. He was unaware that he had been as stiff as a board.
“Life is for the living, dear. You're a handsome young man, only twenty-eight. Do you honestly think I'd expect you to never marry again, or have other children? I'm not crazy. And I'm not worried that Jack and Sarah will never know us. You've proved that from day one. They will always be a part of our lives and it gives us great pleasure to see Sally alive in them.”
He looked at her. “Thank you. It means a lot.”
Lynn looked down at her daughter's grave. “I think she meant for us to meet today. What do you think?”
“I think that Sally's mother is as wonderful as Sally was.” He reached over and kissed Lynn's cheek. She patted his back. “Good. So bring those kiddies by after work on Friday. I'll make a batch of Rice Krispie squares. Off you go now. Sally and I are going to have a natter.”
He smiled and walked back to the patrol car. He was an incredibly lucky man and sometimes he forgot that in the day-to-day events that threatened to drown him at times. Lynn would never know how much that meant to him.
But of course, as is the way of life, two steps forward, one step back. When he went to work the next day, one of his colleagues, Reg, had the early morning Post. He was reading the obituaries. “See here, Seamus. Libby's mother died.”
He jerked his head up. “Did she? Let me see that.” He took the offered paper and read it through. The wake was at Patten's the next night and the following day. The funeral would be at Knox United Church, with burial in Black Brook Cemetery. There was a picture of Mamie as she looked about ten years earlier. She always was a handsome woman.
“That's going be some turnout,” Reg said.
“What do you mean?”
“What do you think I mean? It's goin' be around the block so people can have a boo at Ava Harris.”
“You don't honestly think people will go to a wake just to see her?” Seamus frowned.
“Are you crazy? I'd go.”
“You think someone grieving for their mother is a spectator sport?” He threw the paper back at him. “You disgust me.”
Reg got out of his chair. “Take it easy. No offense, man.”
“Then don't treat it like a joke. Have some decency, for Christ's sake.” Afraid he would punch the man, Seamus decided the best thing to do was to leave. Of course, she was on his mind all day. And everywhere he turned, he heard people talking about it. The more he heard them talk, the more he wanted to protect her. But he didn't want to call the house. Not now. He had no other way to get a hold of her.
Seamus knew her family might not appreciate it, but he had to go to the wake. Just so she could see he wasn't indifferent. That he cared about her.
He went to Colleen's for supper that night, and naturally, almost the first thing out of her mouth was about Mamie MacKinnon.