"Oh, there you are, my dear boy! I was hoping you'd get here soon. They'll be wheeling in that mush they call supper pretty soon and next thing you know, they'll be turning out the lights for the night! Can't get used to this schedule they have in this place. They treat us like bloody livestock!
Sit down Fisher, on the bed if you like. You won't hurt your old gram. Oh, you're a handsome boy. Dot. Dot, you awake? Fisher's here. Dot's recovering from surgery. She's still a bit out of it, I think. You remember Dot Boyle? She used to teach at the school. Close the curtain there, will you dear? That's better. Can you just fluff my pillow a bit, too? Feels like a sack of granite. Rheumatism is a nasty thing, my boy. Don't grow old. I shouldn't complain. Really, I'm quite comfortable here. Memorial is a very nice place." Norma grinned and glanced over at her roommate, Dot.
"You look well, Grandma. Are you feeling a little more settled now?" Fisher asked. He adjusted a box of Kleenex teetering on the edge of her nightstand.
"Yes, my love, I'm surviving. I'm very lucky to have such a nice place to live out my last days on earth," Norma said as she patted Fisher's arm. "You know Georgina Stirling raised the money to build this fine hospital. Well, the first Memorial Hospital, that is. Our little town was pretty hard up for medical care back then. The whole place nearly burnt to the ground in 1943. You were just a wee little boy then. I remember it like it was yesterday. You came running into the kitchen yelling about the sky. It was on fire, you said. You thought the sky was on fire! Ha. Nobody died that day, from the fire anyway. It was a bloody miracle. I think maybe Georgina's blessed spirit protected everyone. I even think Georgina's spirit rose from the ashes of the first hospital and settled into this new one. I can feel her presence in this room. I can hear her singing sometimes, when I close my eyes."
"Grandma, I was wondering if you are feeling well enough to meet someone? A friend of mine." Fisher fidgeted with a blanket at the end of Norma's bed.
"What? You got a girlfriend? Is it that Molly Walsh girl? Well, I already know her, now."
"No, her name is Jenny Scott. She's from Ottawa."
"Scott...the Scotts from Fogo? I think they had the post office there."
"No, my dear, she's not from here. She's from Ottawa. She's a university student. Can I bring her up to meet you?"
"Well, I suppose. Of course dear boy. I don't think I'm going anywhere. Bring her by tomorrow. I'll look forward to it."
"Gram, they put Georgina Stirling's new monument in at the cemetery last week. It's very nice. The biggest one in the entire place. I think you'd be happy with it."
"Well it's about time. I'm some relieved to hear that. If it weren't for that CBC fellow, we would still be hanging our heads in shame about it. It takes just one person to make things right. Remember that, my dear."
"There's a dedication ceremony planned for this Sunday. I'm sorry you won't be able to come. Maybe you'll hear the bell ringing though."
Fisher stood and kissed his grandmother's forehead and squeezed her hand. "I'm off to Dinah's for dinner, Gram. I'll be by tomorrow with Jenny. Have a good night. Love you."
"Love you, too, my dear. You're a prince!"
YOU ARE READING
White Horses On The Bay
RomanceWhite Horses on the Bay is an 80,000 word literary fiction spanning two eras in one extraordinary seaside town. The main narrative follows six days in the life of Fisher Sullivan, a young grave digger and church custodian struggling to find meaning...
