THE DAWN PATROL

CHAPTER XIII

1998

The phone’s ringing. It’s five o’clock in the morning. I can see it on the alarm clock as I roll over, and I’m up before the third ring. It’s Mom. She’s crying, not hysterically, but enough for me to know that she needs someone to talk to. Her voice is a soft whisper, and I tell myself it’s the strain of the last three days. I don’t think too well when it’s this early in the morning, and I don’t know what’s going on.

She can’t be sleeping much, and she’s only eating whatever Russell and I bring her—not even finishing it half the time. Caroline’s more aware of what she needs than Russell and I are. I sit up slowly, adjusting the pillow behind me and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes as I scratch at my cheek and try to focus on what she’s saying.

“Ma?”

“Oh, Danny, he’s going to leave me.”

“What d’ya mean? Now?”

There was silence on the other end.

“Ma?”

“No. I...I mean...It’s just that I didn’t know who else to call. I was thinking Caroline was—”

“She’s not here, Ma,” I say, hoping she can’t hear the harshness in my voice. I feel as though I’m being too abrupt with her, because I realize she phoned thinking she was calling Caroline. Her husband’s dying—the father of her sons—and she wants to talk to her ex-daughter-in-law. How am I supposed to feel about that?

“Listen, Ma. I can get dressed and be over there in twenty minutes, tops. You want me to come and see you?” I don’t even let her answer. “Ah, the hell with that. I’m comin’ over. Just let me brush my teeth and get dressed, and I’ll be right there.”

“I just wanted to talk to Caroline. She said if I ever needed—”

“Yeah, well Ma, you got me, and I’m coming over.”

And then, I realize I don’t have a car.

*

I make a pot of coffee in the automatic coffee maker and set the timer for seven. I’m thinking Uncle Jack will be up by then. I leave him a note under a coffee cup I put on the counter, along with the sugar bowl. I tell him Russell will bring him later, and that I went to the hospital to be with Mom. She needs me, I add, wondering if it’s true. Maybe I need her more, I tell myself.

I know Russell’s going to be pissed when he wakes up. He’s going to tell me I should’ve woke him up, and maybe he’s right. But there’s a voice inside me that tells me, no, I want this time alone. I want to be with Mom because she needs me.

You mean she needs Caroline, the same voice tells me.

No. I need her. Nothing should come between a boy and his mother. And I believe it with all my heart.

I see the headlights of the cab I called stabbing through the living room curtains. By the time the cab crosses the Patullo Bridge and enters New West, I feel tears coming to my eyes. I try hiding my face from the cab driver, and then realize he doesn’t care; I’m just a fare to him.

I walk through the lobby and take the first elevator up to ICU where I walk through empty hallways, reading the numbers on the doors and thinking I’ve gone the wrong way again. That’s when I see Mom in the hall ahead of me.

“Ma? What’re you doing out here?”

“Oh, Danny. You didn’t have to come,” she says, and somehow I think she really believes it.

“Why? Did you get hold of Caroline?” I say before I can stop myself. Damn!

“No. I called Winnie.”

“You called Auntie Win?” I’m wondering if she can hear the disbelief in my voice.

She nods.

“Why?” I ask, and I can feel my eyebrows draw down into that quizzical vee I seem to have inherited.

She shakes her head slowly, and looks up at me. “I don’t know. I—”

“Does that mean Uncle Ray’s coming, too?”

She nods again.

“Did he say he was coming?”

“He insisted. He said he’s been waiting for me to call.”

“What do you mean? He knew you were going to call?”

“I think so.”

“Listen, Ma,” I say, and taking her by the hand lead her to a nearby bench. “We were talking to Uncle Jack last night—me and Russ—and he told us what happened.”

“You mean about Cecelia?” she says, looking at her hands, turning her ring like Lady Macbeth washing the blood off her hands. I wonder what she’s talking about.

“Who?”

“What did he tell you?” she says, looking at me with such urgency I think there’s more to the story than Uncle Jack may have told us.

“That Uncle Ray’s a coward and shot himself in the foot.”

“Is that all he told you?”

“Why? What else is there? Who’s Cecelia? Is that Uncle Jack’s wife?”

“His wife? He was never married.”

“He wasn’t? Then who’s Cecelia?”

“She was a spy working for the Germans and Uncle Jack was supposed to take her in for questioning. Ray and Dad were with him. There was a body in the trunk and they were going to dump it—”

“A body? Who’s body?”

“Uncle Jack told Ray to pull over so they could dump the body, and they found this quiet place where no one was around. While they were gone, there were two shots. When they got back, Cecelia was dead, and Ray lay writhing on the ground with his foot shot off.”

“And so who shot him? Did he shoot the woman?”

“They took Ray back to the hospital in London—the one Winnie was working at because they didn’t want too many questions. When they got it all sorted out, it seemed there was a struggle for the gun and it went off, hitting Ray in the foot. Cecelia tried to take off with the car, and Ray shot her.”

“That’s not how Uncle Jack said it happened.”

“Because he believes Ray shot himself after he killed the girl.”

“Yes. But, he never mentioned the girl when he told us the story. He told us they went duck hunting. He said Uncle Ray had dreams and that’s why he shot himself; he knew he was going to die.”

“He probably would have. The man that took his place died.”

“So why tell us a story about duck hunting?”

“You tell a lie long enough, eventually you’re going to believe it.”

“Uncle Jack lied to us?”

She nods.

“Why?”

“Because he loved her. More than anything in the world, your father said he loved her—and he thinks Ray murdered her, but he can’t prove it. No one knows what really happened except Ray; Uncle Jack and your dad never believed his version.”

“Dad was there? And he says Ray shot himself in the foot, too. So why does Uncle Ray want to come over?”

“I suppose he wants to make a final confession. I hear confession’s good for the soul.”

*

I spend the next hour holding Mom’s hand and she tells me everything. She tells me things I never knew about Dad. She says he has a twisted sense of humour, but I know that; but there’s also his honesty, and his integrity, and his loyalty to his friends. These are things I know about him as well, but I never realized to what depths they go. She tells me he once volunteered to fly medical supplies North during an impossible blizzard because it had to be done; he often flew rescue missions in search of survivors at sea; and flew food and clothing to flood victims in North Dakota and Manitoba. I ask her why.

“He’d been shot down, crashed, and ditched so many times during the war, he thought his life was blessed by an angel sitting on his shoulder. He never should have made it out of the war alive, and he’s always felt guilty because of it.”

“That’s stupid,” I say. “No one should feel guilty for having survived.”

“Stupid? He’s the one who told me Ray has dreams—and Winnie says he still does. He was always telling Dad who was going to live and who was going to die, and it got to the point where Dad had to tell him to stop; he didn’t want to know anymore.”

“I guess that makes sense,” I say with a slow nod. “Maybe that’s what’s been eating him up all these years? Maybe that’s why he volunteers to fly into blizzards when no one else will. He was looking for death because he'd managed to skip out on it so many times before.”

“Bev,” I hear Auntie Win say from the end of the hall. Mom looks up and smiles.

I’ve always admired how Mom and Auntie Win have remained friends, while Dad refused to have anything to do with her, or Uncle Ray. Mom’s believes in family, even if she doesn’t care for Uncle Ray too much. It might have something to do with the stories I’ve heard about him slapping Auntie Win around, but that’s something I’ve never asked about. There are some things you’re not supposed to know as a kid, and you bury them out of choice as an adult. Uncle Ray hitting Auntie Win? I don’t even want to think about it.

Mom’s friendship with Auntie Win has more to do with Uncle Fred and Auntie Jen and the family gatherings we used to have when we were kids. We kids would play together, the grown-ups would laugh and drink together, then they’d feed us, clean us, and we’d be home without even realizing Dad wasn’t there.

Uncle Fred got along fine with Uncle Ray, just like he did with Auntie Jen’s husband, Renaud. But Renaud died young, and Auntie Jen never remarried, saying no one could take his place. Theirs was the kind of love I wish Caroline and I had shared. Gramma and Grandpa would be there — Grandpa sitting alone with his cane and his one eye staring off into the distance — and Mom always doing whatever she could to help him. It’s funny the memories you bring out of your childhood.

Mom hugs Auntie Win, and I see tears in both their eyes. Uncle Ray hangs back, always the outlaw in-law, I tell myself. Never one to let himself get too close to anyone, I’m thinking now I understand why. He always got along with Uncle Fred and Auntie Jen.

“I’m sorry we’re so late,” Auntie Win says, and Mom waves it off.

“Hi, Danny,” she says, and I smile. “What, I don’t get a kiss? Are you too old now?”

I laugh. “Of course not. I like little old ladies, just ask Ma,” I say as I step forward.

“Oh, you’re such a bastard,” she says, and gives me a playful slap. “My God you look like your grandfather. Did you ever tell him that, Bev? Doesn’t he look like Dad? Especially now, when Dad was that old. Well, you never knew him then, but he was a good looking man. You’re lucky,” she says, looking up at me again.

“Do you want to go in and see Bobby?” Mom asks.

“Is there any change in his condition?”

Mom shakes her head.

“Ray wants to see him,” she says, and Mom looks at me as if to say, I told you.

“You have to put a mask and gown on,” I say to Uncle Ray. “And we have to wait for a nurse.”

“Why the hell do I have to put a monkey suit on to visit a dying man?” he says.

“Ray! Show a little sensitivity. I’m sorry,” she says to Mom.

“I wouldn’t expect anything less from him,” Mom says.

“If he’s anything, he’s predictable,” Auntie Win says.

“Danny, help Uncle Ray get into his gown. I’ll go send the nurse in.”

I nod as Mom and Auntie Win walk down the hall and around the corner.

“I guess they’ll go to the waiting room after,” I say.

Uncle Ray just nods and shuffles down the hall behind me.

I take him to Dad’s room and look through the window in the door. I can see Dad lying in the bed, the heart monitor keeping a steady rhythm with his life — an echo of his past. Uncle Ray picks up a gown and starts to put it on. I look at him and begin tying it up in the back.

“Just tie the top one,” he says. I nod, grab the cap and fit it over his wispy, grey hair.

“You need a mask, too.”

The nurse opens the door and steps in.

“Good morning,” she says.

“My uncle wants to see my dad,” I say.

“Yes. Your mother told me. You can say whatever you want to him. I doubt he can hear you. It’s usually something for the family members just to be with a person.”

“Are you always this fuckin’ cheerful?” Uncle Ray says.

“You need not be like that, sir,” she says angrily.

“You comin’ in with me?” he says to me.

“Do you want me to?”

He shakes his head.

“What about you?” he says to the nurse. “You thinkin’ I might wanna pull the plug on him?”

“If I didn’t have to be with you, sir, believe me, I wouldn’t,” she says as she pushes the door open. I stand at the window and watch as Uncle Ray picks up Dad’s hand. Then he reaches for his wallet and opens it; pulling out a tiny white feather, he places it in Dad’s hand.

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