White Horses On The Bay

Have Faith

Twillingate Harbour -  April 18, 1964

   Fisher and Jenny walked in the early morning light along the wharf to the ferry.  So much had happened in such a short time, he could hardly make sense of it all.  The lump in his throat and the emptiness in his chest, made it hard for him to move forward to what he knew would be the end.  He stopped for a moment, to gain his composure and think of something to say.  They watched a few passengers mill about on the dock, delaying their goodbyes.  It was a busy scene with crew loading cargo onto the back of the ship and a steady stream of vehicles driving up the ramp at the bow.  Tires squealed on the creosote boards as drivers peered through fogged-up windshields, following the signals of the deck crew.  

    Fisher looked down at his fingers laced through Jenny’s and lifted her hand to his lips.  He kissed it softly and tried to clear his throat to speak.   He wished there was something he could say to keep her from joining the exodus and drifting away out his life. 

    “Soon, you’ll be on that boat Jenny, and before this day is through, you’ll be flying back home to Ottawa,” Fisher said.  “It goes without saying that I really wish you weren’t leaving.”

    “I know, me too.  I have to, though.  I have to finish what I started.  People are counting on me.”  Jenny put her typewriter case down on the ground beside her and held Fisher’s face in her hands. 

    It had been just six days since Fisher first laid eyes upon the sweetest girl he’d ever seen and now their last moments together were disappearing as quickly as the morning mist on the dock.  Fisher looked out at the calm waters of Notre Dame Bay and finally said, “I knew this moment would eventually come and now here it is and I’m devastated.  I wish you could stay forever.” Fisher put his arms around Jenny and held her close.  The sun was rising over the edge of Durrell and the iceberg that had rolled two nights ago, nearly ending their lives was visible just above the eastern cliffs of Twillingate Island.  “Can you see the tip of the iceberg, Jenny?  That used to be the bottom that was stuck on the ocean floor.”

    “Wow, that’s incredible, isn’t it?”  Jenny said.   “It’s been a crazy few days, eh? First your grandmother’s passing, then the babies being born.  It’s strange how so many things happen all at once.”

   “Ya, I met you.  Now you’re leaving.” Fisher pulled Jenny closer and kissed her.

    “I’ll write to you everyday.  Maybe you could come visit me in Ottawa?”  Jenny looked up into Fisher’s deep blue eyes.  “It’s not that far away,” she added.

   Until that very moment, Fisher’s thoughts of leaving Newfoundland came from his desire to escape; to run as far as he could from this lonely inhospitable place and search for a happier life. Now, it felt as though everything had changed, that love and happiness had come to him, that he was needed, that he fit in.

    “I don’t know what it is exactly, but as chaotic as these last few days have been, everything seems a little clearer to me now,” Fisher said.  He heard the foghorn from Longpoint blow in the distance.  “You are some beautiful, Jenny Scott.  I don’t want to let you go now that I’ve found you.”

    “I’m grateful we had the time we’ve had together, Fisher.  I’m so glad I came here, so glad I met you.”  Jenny sat down on a bench at the edge of the dock.  “Come sit here for awhile, beside me.  I don’t have to board the ferry yet.”

    “Hard to believe it’s the same ocean, eh?” Fisher said, putting his arm around Jenny as they sat together facing the sea.  “Like I said to you the day we met back at the St. Peter’s; one minute that water is as calm as can be, and the next there are white horses on the bay.” 

    “I guess the moral of the story is, nothing stays the same, you just have to keep adjusting your sails to get through life.”  Jenny said, laughing.  “Gwen’s got a bit of rough sea to get through, I’d say.  I’m glad I got to see those sweet babies, yesterday.  Just the cutest little things.”

   “It was nice of them to give the boys those names; an honour, really. Norman James and Fisher Edward.  I have a feeling I’ll be helping Gwen a lot in the next while.”

    Jenny pulled her coat closed across her legs as a breeze began to build bringing cooler air off the bay.  “I’ll be done my year at Carlton in a few weeks, then I’m going to think about spending the summer here in Twillingate.  When I left this morning, Mrs. Laidlaw said she could use an extra set of hands at the High Cs Inn, with the tourist season picking up. I could get started on my thesis, too.”

    “That, my love, would be the best thing ever.  I will wait for you to come back.”

   “Have faith, Fisher.  If we are meant to be together, we’ll find our way.”