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MargaretLaurence
[1]Whenthebabywasalmostreadytobeborhiwrongandmymointohospitaltwoweeksbeforetheexpectedtime.Iwaswakenedbyherthenight，andthenIheardmyfather’sfootstepsashewentdohooodinthedoorwayofmyroandlistening，wantingtogotomymotherbutafraidtogolesttherebesomesighttheremthatIcouldbear.
[2]“Hello—Paul?”
myfathersaid，andIkalkingtoDr.Cates.“It’sBeth.Thewatershavebrokealpositioseemquite—well，I’monlythinkingofeime，ahatwouldbe—Iwishshewerealittlehuskier，damnit—she’sso—no，don’tworry，I’mquiteallright.Yes，Ithinkthatwouldbethebestthing.Okay，makeitassoonasyou，willyou?”
[3]Hecamebackupstairs，lookingbonyanddisheveledinhispyjamas，andrunninghisfihroughhissathetopofthestairs，hecamefacetofacewithGrandmotherMacLeod，whowasstandingthereiedbladressingghtfigureheldstraightahoughshewereuherhairwasboundgrotesquelylikewhite-featheredwingsinthesnareofheright-timehair.
[4]“Whatisit，Ewen?”
[5]“It’sallright，Mother.Beth’shaving—alittletrouble.I’mgoiothehospital.Yougobacktobed.”
[6]“Itoldyou，”
GrandmotherMacLeodsaidinherclearvoieverloud，butdistingiapteaspooblet，“Ididtellyou，Ewen，didInot，thatyoushouldhavegotagirlintohelpherwiththehousework?Shewouldhaverestedmore.”
[7]“I’taffetanyonein，”
myfathersaid.“Ifyouthoughtsheshouldhaverestedmore，whydidn’tyod，I’moutofmymindtonight—justgobaother，please.ImustgetbacktoBeth.”
[8]WhedowdoortoletDr.，myneedovercamemyfearandIslippedintomyparents’rooMymother’sblackhair，solypinnedupduringtheday，wasstartlinglyspreadacrossthewhitepillowcase.Istaredather，notspeaking，andthenshesmiledahedoorwayandburiedmyheaduponher.
[9]“It’sallright，honey，”
shesaid，“Listehebaby’sjustgoileearly，that’sall.You’llbeallright.GrandmotherMacLeodwillbehere.”
[10]“Howshegetthemeals?”
Iwailed，fixihingthatind.“Shenevercooks.Shedoesn’tknowhow.”
[11]“Yes，shedoes，”
mymothersaid.“Shecookaswellasanyonewheo.She’sjustoverymuch，that’sall.Don’tworry—she’llkeepeverythihensome.”
[12]MyfatherandDr.Cates，andIhadtogo，withanythingIhadwaosay.Iwentbaandlaywiththeshadowsallarouemurmuringsthatalwayswentoninthathouse，soundswhieverhadasource，raftersarathedryair，perhaps，ormithewalls，orasparrowthathadflowhroughthebrokenskylightthere.Afterawhile，althoughIwouldnothavebelieveditpossible，Islept.
[13]ThemIquestioher.IbelievedhimtobenotoorinManawaka，butalsothebestdothewholeofManitoba，ifireworld，ahathewasnottheonewhowaslookiherseemedtohavesomethiit.
[14]“Butit’salwaysdoway，Vanessa，”
heexplaiorseheirownfamily.It’sbecausetheyu，yousee，and—”
[15]“Andwhat?”
Iinsisted，alarmedatthewayhehadbrokenoff.Butmyfatherdidoodthere，ahatdifficultsmilewithwhichadultsseektofrom.Ifeltterrified，andrantohimaightly.
[16]“She’sgoingtobefine，”
hesaid.“Holysheis.Nessa，don’tcry—”
[17]GrandmotherMacLeodappearedbesideus，steel-spieherapparentfragility.Sheurplesilkdressandherivorypendant.Shelookedasthoughshewereallreadytogooutforafternoontea.
[18]Summerholidayswerenotquiteover，butIdidnotfeellikegoingouttoplaywithanyofthekids.Iwasverysuperstitious，andIhadthefeelingthatifIleftthehouse，evenforafewhours，somedisasterwouldovertakemymother.Ididnot，ofentiooGrandmotherMacLeod，forshedidheexistenceoffear，ofifshedid，sheohemmorbidlyinseekinghiddehehouse.Thereweremanyofthese-odd-shapedairs，smallandlooselynailed-updoorsatthebackofclothesclosets，leadingtodustytunnelsandfotteheheartofthehousewheretheonlythingsactuallytobeseenaintiherafters，andtrunksfullofoutmodedgandoldphotographalbums.Buttheunseehesesecretplaewtobethoseofeveryperson，youngorold，whedtothehouseandhaddied，incleRotkilledontheSomme，andthebabywhowouldhavebeenmysisterifonlyshehadmaoetolife.GrandfatherMacLeod，whohaddiedayearafterIwasborhehouseiathetopofthemainstairshuhpictureofadarklyuniformedmanridinguponahorsewhstanddilatednestedthatthebattlewashatitmightiiilJudgmeernmanwasactuallytheDukeofWellington，butatthetimeIbelievedhimtobemygrandfatherMacLeod，stillkeepihing.
[19]WehadmovedinwithGrandmotherMatheDepressiongotbadandsheolongeraffordahousekeeper，buttheMacLeodhouseneverseemedlikehometome.ItsdarkredbrickwasgrowhefrontwithVirgiurnedthefall，untilyoucouldhardlytellbrileaves.ItboastedasmalltowerinwhiacLeodkeptaweedyofaheverandahwasembellishedrofusiht-ironsdthecircularrose-windowupstairsedglassofmanycolorswhichpermittedanout-lookihelaceofabsolutesapphireoremerald，orifoolookwithajauefulyellow.InGrandmotherMacLeod’sopiuresgavethehousestyle.
[20]Iudeofdoorsledtoroomswheremypreseactuallyforbidden，wasned.OnewasGrandmotherMacLeod’sbedroom，withitsstaleandold-smellingairs，thedimreekofmedidlaves.Hereresidedhermonogrammeddressersilver，brushandmirror，tonhookandsoneofwhichmustevenbefingeredbymenow，forshemeahemtomeinherwillaohandthemoverinthesameflawlessaioninwhichtheyhadalwaysbeeoo，werethesilver-framedphotographsofUncleRoderick—asachild，asaboy，asamaninhisArmyuniforThemassiveoolbedhadobviouslybeendesignedforqueensiants，andmytinygraoliewithinitalldaywhenshehadmigrairiviolooklikeagiantqueen.
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