In Search of Sam (10 page)

Even though Reed says
there's still a lot to do before the distribution centre is a done deal, I'm sure it's going to happen. He wouldn't have said anything to me otherwise. I'm so pumped, there's no way I can keep the news to myself, and as soon as we get back to The Apple Tree, I blurt it out. Mom sends Reed an
Is-this-true
look. His half-smile answer is all the assurance I need.

But that isn't the only good news. While Reed and I were touring Farrow, Mom and Alex drove to the cabin to see Alex's pottery, and judging by the pile of boxes stacked in George's front hall, Mom bought every piece Alex had, and she is gushing about them as much as I am about the distribution centre. That pretty much means Alex has landed herself a fairy godmother. When my mother makes her mind up about something, she's unstoppable, and she's decided that Alex's pottery is — and I quote — “phenomenal,” which means Alex is going to have her work cut out for her just keeping up with the demand.

“This calls for a celebration,” George announces, popping the cork on what looks like a bottle of homemade wine. “Glasses are in that cupboard on the end, Joanna.”

As Mom takes them down, I notice she includes one for me even though I've still got a year to go before I'm legal drinking age. I would never be offered anything alcoholic at home, and I'm not sure why I am now. It's like the first Thanksgiving I was allowed to escape the kiddies' table. Another of life's milestones. I smile. Maybe, in her own way, my mother
is
trying to let me grow up.

We all lift our glasses and Reed says, “To Farrow and the future.”

“And new beginnings,” Mom adds.

“And good people,” George tags on the end.

George invites Alex to stay for supper, but Alex begs off, claiming she has to get started on a new batch of pottery.

“This is all so exciting,” George declares during dinner. “I haven't been this high since the sixties.”

My mother chokes on a carrot, and I pat her on the back. “It's okay. George has a name to live up to. It's kind of like truth serum. She has to tell it like it is. She can't help herself. You'll get used to it.”

George ignores the interruption. “As I was saying, it's all very stimulating, but let me see if I understand the situation properly.” She turns to Reed. “You run a brewery in Vancouver?”

Reed nods.

“And you want to set up a distribution facility here in Farrow?”

He nods again.

“We're a bit off the beaten track, aren't we?”

“Yes, but that's part of the appeal,” Reed explains. “Certainly the brewery will continue to ship from Vancouver, but we need a distribution centre that's more central as well, so trucks can reach it easily from the rest of Canada and the U.S. A town like Farrow provides an added bonus over a big city like Vancouver in that it allows easy access — at least it will once the roads are rebuilt.”

“And this distribution centre of yours is going to make jobs and bring folks back to Farrow?”

“That's the plan. At the moment, Farrow is a bit of a double-edged sword. Because it has pretty much shut down, there's nothing to keep people here, so property is devalued. That's good for me. I can buy the property I need at a reasonable price. Then, if we can wake Farrow up again, the government will restore services, and those low property prices will attract buyers, and before you know it, Farrow will be back on the map. Then watch land values go up.”

“And if Arlo can work his magic,” I interject, “all the Farrow artists like Alex will form a guild and finally be able to make a living at what they do. And they won't have to take their stuff to other towns either. The bazaar will become a mega-big fair, operating twice a year and pulling in crowds from all over B.C. — maybe even further. And then when the rodeo is back up and running, Farrow will be buzzing even more than it was in its glory days.”

Mom, Reed, and George all stop eating and stare at me.

“Oh,” I say, as I glance from face to face. “I guess I didn't tell you about that part yet.”

The next morning, though I'm still excited about all that's happened and all that is going to happen, I'm also a little depressed. It's time to leave Farrow and head back to Vancouver. I love this little town, and I'm sad to say goodbye. The only consolation is that thanks to Reed and the brewery, I know I'll be coming back.

By the time I hit the kitchen, Mom and Reed have finished breakfast and are lingering over a second cup of coffee. Mom glances meaningfully at her watch.

“We said we wanted to get an early start,” she says. “It's already nine o'clock.”

“That
is
early,” I shoot back with a wink. “George says no self-respecting teenager gets out of bed before ten.” Mom gets all parental-looking and opens her mouth to put me in my place. “Relax, Mom. I'm kidding. I'll have some toast and a coffee, and then I'll go pack, which should take about five minutes. It's a matter of shove everything into my suitcase and zip it up.”

“And change the bed,” Mom says.

I nod. “And change the bed. So make that ten minutes.”

“Hogwash,” George sputters. “You're paying guests. This is my bed and breakfast, and I'll be the one changing the beds, thank you very much.”

Despite George's objection, Mom shoots me a look that says otherwise, so I mentally add bed changing to my to-do list.

As I pour my coffee and put some bread into the toaster, my cellphone rings. I dig it out of my pocket and look at the screen. It's Alex.

“Good morning,” I say. “How did it go last night with the pottery?”

“It was good. I stayed up way too late, though, and now I'm a walking bag of dirt. But I didn't want you to leave without saying goodbye. I can sleep later.”

“Why don't you come over? George has a big pot of coffee on. I'm just about to pour myself a cup.”

“Sounds good. I'm on my way,” Alex replies.

I butter my toast, slather it with George's apple butter, and settle in to enjoy my breakfast. But it's a lost cause, with my mother peering at her watch every two minutes and tapping her fingernails on the tabletop the rest of the time. Finally I wolf down the last few bites, grab my coffee, and head back to my room.

That's where I am when Alex arrives. I've changed the bed, so now I just have to pack my stuff. Fortunately, I've kept all my belongings in the bedroom, so I don't have to roam the cottage, collecting everything.

“Need a hand?” Alex asks as I lift my suitcase onto the end of the bed and flip it open.

“No, I'm good,” I say. “It's basically just a matter of making sure I don't forget anything.”

“Good.” Alex sighs and leans against the wall. She takes a sip of her coffee before adding, “I'm pretty much brain dead this morning, so I probably wouldn't be much help anyway.”

For the next few minutes, it's quiet. Alex remains propped against the wall, drinking her coffee, and I buzz around the room, rounding up my possessions and cramming them into my suitcase.

Finally I stand back and frown at the small mountain of clothing and toiletries inside my suitcase.

“You really think you're going to get the suitcase closed on all that stuff?” Alex says.

“It should close,” I insist. “It did in Vancouver.”

“Yeah, but that was when everything was neatly folded and clean. Now it's all just a tangled mess, and it's dirty. Dirt can be really bulky. Take it from someone who works with mud all day.” She grins.

I sneer back. “You're so funny. I suppose I could always refold things, but that just seems wrong. Nobody folds dirty laundry.”

“Or you could ask George for a plastic bag and stick the overflow into that. Like you say, it's only dirty laundry, and it's not like you have to clear security at the airport. Nobody's going to be poking through your soiled undies.”

“Ew!” I screw up my nose. “That's gross. Maybe if I sit on the top of the suitcase, I can squish everything down enough to get the zipper closed.” I glance around the room one more time to make sure I haven't forgotten anything. Good thing too, because I spy the framed photo the Sheffields gave me. I wouldn't want to leave that behind. I point to it. “Alex, could you pass me that picture, please?”

“Sure,” she says. She sets her coffee mug on the bureau and then reaches across the bed to the night table on the other side. As she stretches forward, a chain with a pendant slides out from the neck of her blouse and dangles in the air. I stare. Even after Alex retrieves the photograph and is upright once more, I can't take my eyes off her necklace.

“Where did you get that?” we blurt simultaneously. I'm pointing to Alex's necklace, and she's shaking the photograph at me.

“My grandparents have this exact same photograph on their living room wall. It even has the same frame. I've seen it a hundred times.” She jabs a finger at the teenage girl in the picture. “That's my mom!”

“Your mom?” I repeat stupidly. “That girl is your mother?”

“Yes. Where did you get this?”

I point to the baseball player. “That's Sam. That's my dad.”

“What? This is crazy! Where did you get this picture, Dani?”

A million thoughts are spinning through my brain. If they would slow down, I might be able to make sense of them, but they won't and I can't.

“Are Stephanie and Duncan Sheffield your grandparents?”

She nods. “Yes. Did they give this to you?”

It's my turn to nod. Then I reach inside my shirt and pull out the half-heart that mirrors the one Alex is wearing. I hold it out to her.

“And this? It's exactly like yours. I slide my half-heart next to hers. “Where did you get it?”

She takes a minute to compare the two. The hearts fit snugly together.

“My mom gave it to me. My grandma gave it to her. Her mother gave it to her.”

“Where did
my
half come from?” I say.

Alex looks confused. “I don't know. I've never seen another half before, and I don't know anything about it. It's just something that's been passed down through my family.”

My heart is beating so fast, it's practically tripping over itself. Something important is happening, and it has to do with Sam. That much I'm sure of. I still don't have any answers, but now I have a whole new batch of questions, and I think I know who I need to ask.

“Do you think your grandparents would know?”

Alex shrugs. “Maybe.” She pulls out her phone. “Should I ask them?”

I frown. “Not over the phone.” I clutch the half-heart around my neck. “If they know more than they've already told me, they're keeping it a secret for some reason. Can we go and speak to them in person? Would they be home?”

“Probably. Do you want to?”

“Yeah, I do.” I grab my backpack and car keys. “Let's go. I'll drive.”

As we tear out of my room and race for the front door, I holler to my mom and Reed in the kitchen. “Have another cup of coffee. There's something I have to do before we leave.”

Just like when I visited
the house before, it is Mr. Sheffield who answers the door.

“Hey, Grandpa.” Alex hugs him and kisses his cheek.

“Alex?” He is both surprised and pleased. When he spies me standing behind her, his expression becomes confused. “Dani?” He glances from me to Alex and back again. “You two know each other?”

“We're starting to,” Alex says. “Actually, that's why we're here. Can we talk to you and Grandma?”

He still looks puzzled or wary — maybe both — but he invites us in. “Of course, of course. Come in. Alex, take Dani to the sunroom, and I'll get your grandmother.”

Unlike the living room with its traditional furnishings and photo-mural walls, the sunroom is a mini tropical paradise. Fitted with floor to ceiling windows on two sides, it is furnished simply with rattan loveseats, large potted plants, and sunshine. A large ceramic plate I recognize as Alex's work is the sole ornament on a large glass coffee table.

“Nice,” I say, running my hand around its edge as I make my way to one of the loveseats.

Alex grins and sits down beside me. Almost immediately we are joined by her grandparents. Mrs. Sheffield gives Alex a hug before sitting on the other loveseat with her husband.

“How nice to see you again, Dani,” she says. “I had no idea you and Alex knew each other.”

“We met in Farrow,” I say. “I saw Alex's pottery at the spring bazaar and,” I shrug, “things went from there.” I don't bother going into details about our rocky beginning.

“It's such a small world, isn't it?” Mrs. Sheffield says. “Here you were just a few days ago, and now you're back with Alex. Six degrees of separation and all that.” She smiles, but I can tell from the way she's fidgeting that she's nervous. She looks at her husband and then back at me and asks, “So, did you have any luck finding information about Sam?”

“That's why we've come, Grandma.” Alex pulls the half-heart pendant from her shirt. What is the story behind this?”

Mrs. Sheffield frowns. “You know the story as well as I do, Alex. My mother gave that to me, I gave it to your mother, and when you were born, she passed it on to you. I hope you will pass it on to your own child one day.”

Alex nods. “That's what I told Dani. But we both think there must be more to it than that.”

Mrs. Sheffield cocks her head. “Oh?”

I pull out my half-heart and hold it next to Alex's. “These obviously started as one whole heart,” I say. “Do you know why they were cut?”

“Where did you get that?” Mrs. Sheffield's voice is just a whisper, but her eyes burn right through me.

“It was one of the things Sam left me.”

Mrs. Sheffield buries her face in her hands and starts to weep. Her husband wraps his arm around her, and she collapses into him.

Alex sends me a concerned glance and mumbles, “Maybe this wasn't a good idea.” Then to her grandmother she says, “Grandma, I'm so sorry. We didn't mean to upset you. Dani is just trying to find some answers about her dad. Please don't cry.”

Pushing herself upright and taking a deep breath, Mrs. Sheffield composes herself once more. She impatiently wipes her tears away. “Never mind me. I'm fine. It was just a bit of a shock, that's all. I haven't seen the other half of that heart in over forty years.” Her husband places a hand on her arm, but she shrugs it off. “I know, Duncan. I promised Kate. And I've kept my word. But it's time for the truth.”

“You're sure?” he says.

She nods fiercely. “Yes. It can't hurt Kate or Sam anymore — not my parents either, and Dani deserves to know.”

“Who's Kate?” Alex asks.

“My sister,” Mrs. Sheffield says. “My twin sister.”

“I never knew you had a sister, Grandma,” Alex says.

“She was barely eighteen when she died,” Mrs. Sheffield replies. “That was a long time ago, many years before you were even born. By the time you came along, memories of her had been buried. There was no reason to tell you about her, but many reasons not to. Your mother doesn't even know.”

She licks her lips and smooths her skirt, and I brace myself for the story that is about to come. When I made the decision to search for Sam, I imagined all the different ways I might find the truth, but I never thought about what that truth might be. The fact that it was intentionally kept secret and that it is upsetting for Mrs. Sheffield to talk about makes me nervous. Even so, I need to hear it.

Mrs. Sheffield's gaze finally leaves her skirt and moves to me. “Dani, do you remember when you came here before and were looking at the photo of the young couple in the living room? I told you they were my great-grandparents.”

I nod.

“Well, that's where the heart began. It was a wedding gift from my great-grandfather to my great-grandmother. And when they had their first child — my grandmother — the heart went to her. She, of course, gave it to her daughter — my mother. But when my sister and I were born, my mother was faced with a decision. Rather than give the heart to just one of us, she cut it in two; so like most everything else in our lives, we shared it. And when the time came, we both passed on our halves to our children, though until just now, I didn't know Kate had. I always assumed her half of the heart had been lost.

And that's when the penny drops. Kate was Sam's mother — my grandmother. Which means Mrs. Sheffield is my great-aunt. I blink at Alex. She and I are related too. This is my family. The knowledge is so overwhelming, I have to force myself to concentrate on what Mrs. Sheffield is saying.

“My sister and I were very close. We were mirror twins, identical, but opposite. I'm right-handed; Kate was left-handed. We epitomized the twin cliché. We dressed alike. We finished each other's sentences. Sometimes we didn't have to talk at all. We knew when the other was in trouble or hurt. We were connected in a way only twins can understand. We were simultaneously sisters and best friends. In fact, our world was quite perfect.

“And then Kate got pregnant. She was seventeen. I knew almost right away, though I didn't know who the father was. My parents didn't become aware until Kate was nearly five months along. Kate wanted to keep her baby, but the idea was too scandalous for my mother to contemplate. Though it was the seventies already, my mother was pretty old school and didn't buy into the free love movement. As far as she was concerned, nice girls didn't have premarital sex, let alone keep the products of their indiscretions. So she arranged for Kate to spend the rest of her pregnancy in a home for unwed mothers in Calgary, and when the baby was born she was to give it up for adoption. The nuns at the home would take care of the arrangements. My mother concocted a story about Kate staying with an ailing relative to help out, and that's what she told neighbours and friends.”

“Why did Kate go along with it?” Alex asks.

Mrs. Sheffield smiles sadly. “As I said, it was a different time. Hard for you girls to understand, I'm sure, but Kate had no choice. She had no money of her own and no place to go. My parents would have disowned her.”

Alex's jaw drops. “Their own daughter?”

Mrs. Sheffield shrugs. “Kate and I exchanged letters constantly. We wrote each other practically every day. How I missed her. I could tell from her letters that she was terribly unhappy, and the closer she got to term the more determined she was to keep her baby. So it wasn't a surprise when my parents got a long distance call from one of the nuns, saying Kate had run away.

“Earlier that same day I had received a letter from Kate telling me her plans, so I had to act surprised by the news and then lie through my teeth about knowing anything. At least I had the sense to destroy the letter after I read it, because my mother didn't believe me. When she'd finished ripping my room apart, the place looked like it had been burgled.”

Though I never met my grandmother, my heart aches for her. She must have been so scared. “What did the letter say?”

“It said she was planning to leave. She didn't have much money, but she had enough for bus fare to Merritt. She told me the bus she would be on and asked me to meet her at the depot. She had an idea of where to stay, but it required a car. I had my driver's license by then, so it was just a matter of coming up with an excuse to borrow the family vehicle. As it turned out, my mother asked me to run an errand, which coincided perfectly with the arrival of Kate's bus.”

Mrs. Sheffield stops and takes a deep breath.

“You okay?” her husband asks.

She nods. “It's been so long, I thought some of the sting might have gone out of the memory, but,” she sighs, “it hasn't. It still hurts.” She pats her husband's hand. “But it's okay. I'll be fine.”

Alex and I exchange glances. I don't want to cause Mrs. Sheffield grief, but I want — no, I need — to hear the whole story.

“It was so good to see Kate again. For about ten minutes we just hugged one another. Then I drove her to the family cabin in Farrow. That's where she wanted to go. She had money for some groceries, and the place was comfortable enough, so I knew she'd be all right for the time being. The baby was still three weeks away, so we had time to plan. We both hoped that once the baby was born, our mother would swallow her pride and accept the situation.

“I came out as often as I could to bring supplies and keep Kate company, but I couldn't risk raising suspicion at home, so it wasn't as frequent as I would have liked. The baby came early. There was no telephone service at the cabin, and this was long before the time of cellphones, so Kate had no way of letting me know. To make matters worse, it was the May long weekend, and my family had been invited to spend the holiday at a friend's cottage in Kelowna — so Kate couldn't have reached me anyway.”

Alex inches forward on the loveseat. “So what happened?”

Mrs. Sheffield shakes her head. “It didn't go well,” she says. “Kate had to deliver the baby alone. She lost a lot of blood, and she realized pretty quickly that she was in trouble. She had to get her baby to safety. During her walks around Farrow — she'd tried to stay as invisible as possible, but she'd still managed to get out — she had seen an older couple working in their yard. Kate said they'd seemed so happy, and she wished that she might find that sort of love one day. Anyway, she lingered too long, and the couple saw her. They asked about the baby, of course, and told her how lucky she was, and how they'd always wanted a child, but it had never happened for them. Then they wished her well, and Kate carried on with her walk.”

“How do you know this, Mrs. Sheffield?” I ask.

She looks surprised. “I'm the one who found Kate. She told me. That first night after the birth, while she still had the strength, she walked to Hannah and John Swan's house and left her baby on their doorstep. So when I got to the cabin, the baby was already gone. I got Kate into the car and rushed her to the hospital, but she'd lost too much blood. The doctors couldn't save her. And since there was no sign of a baby at the cabin, my parents chose to believe it had died, and Kate had disposed of it. They concocted a public explanation for Kate's death, but once she was buried, they never spoke of her again.”

“You never told your parents the truth?” Alex says.

“No. Kate made me promise. She was afraid that our parents would step in and send the baby to an orphanage. She preferred to think she had found her son a good home.” Mrs. Sheffield smiles. “And she had. At least for as long as it lasted. Before she died, though, she asked me to keep an eye on her boy, to make sure he was doing all right. So that's what Duncan and I have done. We got married young ourselves, so there was only a couple of years between the birth of Kate's Sam and our Debbie, and when we learned Sam was being sent back to social services, we took him in.”

She sits back on the loveseat and her mouth stretches into a determined line. “And that's the story. I'm sorry I didn't tell you before, Dani, but I was keeping a trust.”

My vision has blurred, and my throat is tight, so I just nod. It's a lot to take in, and there's still so much more to find out. But there's time for that, and at least now I have solid ground beneath me. Sam and I finally have a past.