The Trust

Chapter 3: Bless Me Father

It's only 10 minutes away, but a good walk. The air is fresh after the rain.

I need to go through the downtown to get there, which is really only a street. I look at all the shops that have changed over time. The Chinese food place is now a Pilates studio. The old Woolworth's store with its lunch counter where we always got a plate of fries on cheque day is now turned into a smoothie bar. Lots of changes, but I stayed the same. I look at my reflection in one of the shop windows, same old me just more disillusioned, with deeper circles under my eyes and the light gone out of them.

The skies have cleared and once I move through downtown I'm near the harbour with its briny scent and clouds of seabirds screeching and fighting for scraps. I approach the small beach where we put my father into the ocean so many years ago. Mom said my uncle Rob moved back to Cape Breton with his new wife Kat and that they have a beautiful log home on the edge of a cliff in Inverness. I make a mental note to get out and pay them a visit.

I pass the beach and remember Rob's kindness on that sad, confusing day. How my father's brothers and sister rallied around Mom who seemed to take Dad's death harder than even they did. How she was able to still love him after what he did was a mystery to me. But Dad was loved, I can say that. Deeply loved by his family, and he threw it all away to go live on the other side of the country where he could fall headlong into drugs instead of furtively sneaking them under the constant watch of worried relatives.

My mind's been wandering so far, I nearly pass my destination. The grand, two-story building sits stoically on the edge of the cliff looking like at any moment it might topple into the sea. Built in 1900, it's typical of the Second Empire style, with a wrap-around veranda showcasing stunning views of the ocean, especially at sunset, an elaborate, ornamental roof with its central tower and steeply pitched roof where my friend has his office. He likes working with the bright blue strip of ocean just outside his windows, he says it reminds him of home, the west coast of Ireland.

"Hey, Devon. He's in?" It's more of a statement than a question, as I'm already heading up the stairs.

"He is, but I'll warn you. He's in a mood," his assistant says, not looking up from his computer.

"When isn't he," I say and push the door open to his office.

"Here's the thing. If you can just give us a week, we can square everything up Dave, but you gotta meet me halfway here. You know how hard it's been since the fish plant closed, people that used to give donations are now linin' up for help themselves!" He rolls his eyes and gives his head a shake before gesturing for me to sit down.

I pull the bottle of wine out of my purse, and he gives me a quick thumbs up as his voice begins to rise.

"Well, that's fine then. Great spirit of charity. So, you won't mind if I call up the local paper and tell them the richest guy in town is throwin' single mothers and their kids out into the street because he can't wait a few days for the rent?" He pauses, nodding. "That'll do for now. I thought you'd see reason in the end." He clicks off his phone and tosses it onto the desk.

"And while you're at it, you can go fuck yourself." He runs his hands through his thick black hair, which curls around his neck. He's overdue for a haircut. "No wonder I drink," he mutters, reaching for the bottle. He pours a slug of wine into a mug on his desk for me and a paper cup for him.

"That bad, huh?" I cheers his paper cup and sip the cold chardonnay, no less delicious because it's in a coffee mug.

"I don't get it, the man's richer than God. If he wanted to, he could donate the building or subsidize the rent — let us offer low-income housing to the working poor so they can have a safe, comfortable home for the children and still be able to eat. I'm tryin' to help Margaret McLeod manage a budget, but the woman makes minimum wage at the GroceryMart. Once rent and utilities are paid, there's nothin' to budget! Wealth is wasted on the rich!" He sits back in his chair and blows out a sigh.