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  Alex settled into his new routine quickly and efficiently. He was really taken with his colleagues noting the character similarities of all seafaring crew members. Their lives threatened almost daily with treacherous conditions and the decisions they were forced to make in the face of extreme danger, made them a unique group. They hung together in the tacit knowledge that their team members could be called upon to save their very lives at any given time; a daunting prospect. On the other hand when they played, they played hard, loving their get-togethers with their mates in the local pubs, with jokes flying around for hours and some pretty hard drinking on occasion by way of relief.

  ****

  That winter was something the like of which Alex had never experienced in his life with temperatures well below freezing, lasting all day through January to April and the ever lurking mist and fog conditions allowing little of the feeble sun through the haze. It really took some getting used to. The old balaclava took on a whole new meaning for Alex. It covered his entire face except his eyes and mouth, and he made sure never to be without it or his gloves in winter. The risk of frost bite was a very real thing as evidenced on some of his mates’ faces and hands which were missing the odd chunk of flesh here and there, where their owners had been careless about protecting themselves properly. Nevertheless, few work days were missed because of wretched weather conditions but danger was always present whenever the boat went out. The grim reaper of the ocean waited albeit impatiently for his next victims.

  Summers were pleasantly warm, however, with his first finally arriving. Alex met it headlong with joy, not realising how much the weather affected him and his moods. He took a trip up to Citadel Hill, a historic site and military fortress established in 1935. Fortunately, its value had been recognised before it was demolished and a gradual restoration program was put in place beginning in the late 1940s, restoring it to its original Victorian state. Housing the Halifax Army Museum, the Nova Scotia Museum and the Maritime Museum of the Atlantic, the site became the most historical attraction in Atlantic Canada; a major tourist pull.

  Alex was particularly fascinated by the statue of the giant Angus MacAskill who originated from Scotland and came to Canada as a child. He grew to be over 7-1/2 feet high weighing more than 400 pounds. He was, apparently, a natural giant in perfect health with no medical condition and his memorial statue was built overlooking Halifax. Standing beside this behemoth, Alex found himself to be severely lacking physically and determined to visit the little cemetery in Englishtown on Cape Breton Island, where the gentle giant had been laid to rest beside the graves of his mother and father following his death in 1863.

  Following the daily noonday salute of the ceremonial gun, also used for 21 gun salutes, Alex enjoyed his picnic lunch at the summit and revelled in the warm sunshine and the magnificent view of the city and its huge harbour. It was one of those perfect days not to be forgotten, definitely one of his most fascinating in the Maritimes.

  At the first opportunity, Alex visited Peggy’s Cove, a tiny fishing village surrounded in folklore offering varying reasons for its name but one popular theory was that the cove had been named after a lone survivor from a shipwreck in the mid-1800s who subsequently took up residence there. The community had been built up since the 1800s following the governmental land grants issued to the first settlers of German descent who survived on fishing and farming where possible. Very basic facilities had been added over the years in the form of a cannery, store and school to name a few. Little wooden houses built on the rocks surrounded the cove and while appearing somewhat stark, possessed a character all of their own. Alex had picked a great day to visit the little cove with the sun glistening off boats of all shapes and sizes, used mainly for fishing. Clustered around the inlet, the vessels added to the charm of the little cove.

  Being a seafaring man, Alex was particularly interested in the lighthouse which had perched precariously on its rock base at the point since the early 1900s. He made sure that he arrived early in the day so that he could experience the famous morning light radiating from the point first hand. What an awesome sight, although he didn’t linger on the rocks for long being all too well aware of the dangers of sudden waves which had swept many a person away.

  ****

  They were all in high spirits as they climbed into the car. Alex was going on a road trip to Charlottetown, Prince Edward Island with a couple of his crew member friends, Darren and Sean. Darren was visiting relatives in Charlottetown who ran a charming old hotel which boasted a fabulous lobster dinner and he had invited his mates along thinking it would be a fun trip. Although they only had time for two night stops, Alex was thrilled to be getting the chance to go with people who were familiar with the area and had promised to take him around and see what they could in the time. They figured they could get to the island in good order as all three were taking turns at the driving.

  Their trip included a ferry crossing at Caribou saving them travel time. Although it was a short passage over the Northumberland Strait, the three did manage to inhale a tasty lunch of fish and chips and a round of beer while listening to live Maritime music by local artists, followed by a quick walk around the deck to look at the porpoises swimming alongside the ferry. Alex’s first view of Charlottetown intrigued him, particularly its unusual shape caused by its situation between three converging rivers in the harbour. He had picked up some travel books on the area and was looking forward to some in-depth reading about the island and its history.

  Upon arrival, they were greeted by Darren’s uncle. Alex could see immediately where Darren got his raw sense of humour, it was pouring out of the older man’s mouth, promising to be a riotous dinner gathering that night.

  “Molly, are you there? Our visitors have arrived.”

  A smiling little woman appeared wiping floured hands on her apron.

  “Nice to see you again Sean and pleased to meet you Alex.”

  He was surprised at the strength of her grip; Must be all that flour rolling and humping meals backwards and forwards from the kitchen to the dining room, he was thinking.

  “Yes, you have to watch out for that grip,” her husband said jovially, noting Alex wince. “You don’t want to get on the wrong side of her, that’s for sure.”

  “You watch your mouth; you’ll be giving our visitors the wrong impression.”

  “Yes and feisty as well.”

  Darren’s uncle made a hasty retreat before his wife could get another one in, grabbing a couple of bags and heading up the luxuriously carpeted stairs bordered by the colonial style bannisters.

  “Are you coming then? I’ll show you to your rooms.”

  Later, having freshened up, the three friends took themselves out to see the town and what a lovely historical town it was with so much to explore, Alex didn’t know where to look first.

  “As we have another day tomorrow, perhaps we could take a drive around the island a bit, wouldn’t that be great?”

  Sean and Darren agreed wholeheartedly.

  Alex had picked up a floral arrangement while they were out and presented it to Molly with a flourish when they arrived back that evening. Beaming with pleasure, she had placed it in the centre of the table. They sat down that night to mouth-watering fare of the fresh lobster dinner that Alex had heard so much about and an enticing basket of home-made bread and soup for starters. When the coffee and liqueurs arrived, they were accompanied by wild apple crisp with Canadian maple cream. Boy oh boy, what a blow-out that was. Alex could hardly move when they finally got up from the table and headed for the lounge.

  Their trip around part of the island the next day was everything that Alex could have hoped. Beautiful flat meadows accented by occasional softly rolling hills and a coastline that was breathtaking. Nova Scotia was known for the world’s highest tides evidenced by the erosions on the cliffs and miles of superb beaches and caves to explore, with the more rocky peninsulas being broken up by numerous lighthouses on route. The three friends didn’t get to see
the whales, a common sight around the island but the day was another one to be brought out of the memory chest once in a while and remembered with joy.

  Spirits were high when they all piled into the car the next day on their way to the ferry. It had been a well needed break which would set them up for what was to come.

  ****

  Summer was over all too soon again and Alex had begun to shrink from the thought of another winter but it was on him once again. Since the trauma of losing Jack on the west coast of England, he had suffered odd bouts of severe depression, some lasting for days. His friend was pushing his way into Alex’s thoughts more and more. In fact, every time he braved another storm off the Canadian east coast, Jack’s smiling face was before him and once again he would relive the horror of that night and the last time he had looked into his friend’s face before he sank beneath the waves.

  It’s an omen, he thought, I’ve lost my edge, time to pack it in and stop putting my life on the line so casually. I’ll head west to Vancouver maybe get into the tour boat business, run a cruiser off Vancouver and down the west coast. God knows, I’ve thought about it for so long I may as well do it while I still can.

  Once again reaching into his reservoir of tenacity and determination, Alex spent the next few months putting his plans in place. He researched every job opportunity focussing more on private cruising, as opposed to the heavy duty type of work he had been doing on the tugs. Once again he found he was heavily in demand because of his qualifications, receiving an exceptionally positive response to his enquiries and finally lined himself up with several potential job opportunities. Carefully selecting his choices from one to four, he contacted each with a view of setting up interviews. He was particularly interested in one tour boat owner who worked independently with his one cruiser, as opposed to one of the bigger tour boat companies operating fleets of vessels.

  His phone conversation with Rick, the owner, was very encouraging and they hit it off right away. Rick was to be his first interview, followed on successive days by the other three, so he was in good shape he surmised for yet another major move. Finalising his plans, he sent up thanks once again to the powers that be that he had made it through another winter unscathed.

  Chapter 13

  Amy Goes Home

  A member of the Salvation Army found her unconscious on the steps of their building and she was subsequently placed in one of the rehabilitation shelters. By some miracle, she had not succumbed to the hardcore drugs but years of anxiety disorders and anti-depression tablets, coupled with lack of proper nourishment had done her no good. Fortunately, she had sought help at the eleventh hour.

  ****

  It was a bright sunny day. She sat by the window actually feeling good to be alive, enjoying the warmth of the sun penetrating her body as a soothing balm. They had been kind to her and nursed her back to health, and she was eternally grateful.

  The manager of the establishment came in and sat down.

  “Amy, your mother has been trying to find you. She wants you to go home.”

  “She wants me to go home, that can’t be. There must be some mistake.”

  Her eyes were wide; her face strained trying to grasp what she had just heard.

  “No, it’s true. She got the Salvation Army to try to find you and I’ve just got off the phone with them. She wants you to come home and she left a message. If you find her tell her I love her and I always have. Bill is dead. Please come home.”

  Amy was taking deep gasps of air and quiet sobs built in momentum, wracking her poor frame until it seemed she would fall apart. Her manager moved forward and laid her hand on the young woman’s shoulder.

  “Come, come, let’s get a hold on ourselves. We have some decisions and plans to make. We’re here to help, that’s our job. Wipe your eyes now and we’ll go and get a pot of tea and talk.”

  Blowing her nose vigorously, Amy was valiantly trying to get herself together. She stood up decisively.

  “I’ll go and get myself cleaned up, and I’ll meet you in the lounge in half an hour if that’s alright?”

  Returning the warm smile directed at her, Amy left the manager and hurried towards the stairs turning and looking back over her shoulder as she reached the threshold. The reassuring nod of encouragement she received filled her with new resolve.

  “I won’t be long,” she said as she hastened to the upper level and the sanctity of her room.

  ****

  Walking up the path, she paused to take in the unchanged beauty of the garden. The air was aromatic, her senses absorbing all of the delicate perfumes, particularly the roses, their fragrance evoking memories of her past and childhood. The gorgeous Albertine rambling rose, now almost twenty feet, clambering up the back of the house, caught her full attention with its lovely salmon to pink flowers, the elite of ramblers. She had been astonished to discover it had been introduced in France in the early 1920s but had always seemed so British to her, probably because it was so popular and firmly entrenched in English gardens. A wonderful welcome for her homecoming; the blooms were just opening; hopefully she would be allowed to stay and enjoy the exquisite flowers through June and July. Further down the garden, the graceful laburnum was still showing the remains of its pendulous yellow blooms from late spring, as was the lilac, boasting varying shades of purple and then joy of joy the green, green grass reaching down to the sea beyond; instilling a sense of completeness and such peace suffusing the very soul. Am I really here? She kept asking herself. What a paradise, I don’t ever want to leave this place again. Please God let me be allowed to stay.

  Suddenly, there was her mother coming forward to meet her. There was a huge difference in her, the years had taken their toll; she looked so much older, although her smile was as warming and engaging as always. Her arms were outstretched in welcome to receive her daughter and they clung together. Finally her mother gently disengaged herself.

  “Come let’s sit in the arbour for a few minutes. This little place is my favourite spot, my ‘magic’ spot. It grounds me, gives me a base, a sense of being one with my soul while putting all the wacky things that life throws us into perspective. I want to talk to you, just the two of us.”

  So they sat and talked, and gradually it became as it was before. They were close again and Amy understood her mother’s course of action taken so many years ago. A chilly mist was settling over the garden and Amy shivered, the dampness infusing her bones.

  “Oh how selfish of me. You must be exhausted from your journey and starving. Why don’t I show you to your room, it’s made up and ready for you? Perhaps you’d like a nice warm bath while I get something for us to eat.”

  Amy barely heard her mother. It was as if she were in a trance. Her senses assumed a new acuity. How could she have withdrawn into herself so completely from her mother who very obviously loved and adored her and had lived so many years needing her daughter? Yes, it had been necessary for her to remove herself all those years ago but could she not have reached out and made some attempt to reconcile with her mother, at least to offer some support? No, she had not. Instead she had chosen to wallow in self-pity and close herself off from all those who had cared so much for her. How was she ever going to make amends to her mother, a true altruist who had, without hesitation, taken over the commitment of rearing her baby? In fact, would she be allowed the time to make amends?

  ****

  The evening enveloped them in warmth and harmony as they sat by the fire sipping their Port wine. They had both enjoyed a simple yet satisfying meal set upon the table overlooking the patio and although it was summertime, the air was brisk. Typical of the south of England, there was always a chill in the evenings and early morning emanating from the sea below. Fiona was coming tomorrow. According to her mother she couldn’t wait to meet her, wanting to make up for lost time. She wants to get to know me, Amy thought, tension gripping her like a vice. What will she think of me? I’m hardly what one would call a proper mother. I’m a miserable failure at
everything I’ve attempted.

  “Oh God,” she whispered a silent prayer, “please let everything be alright. Please be with me and let her understand.”

  ****

  Amy pulled back the curtains the next morning and was greeted with a vision of such loveliness, it took her breath away. The first rays of sun cast an iridescent bloom filling the garden with a colour appearing almost contrived. Pausing, inhaling the sweet air mingled with the salt of the ocean, she almost felt guilty at succumbing to such blissful moments.

  The glorious scene now lay behind her as she moved towards the bathroom to prepare herself for the day ahead and apprehension held her again in its unrelenting grasp. She wanted to run and hide. Oh yes, run and hide like she’d always done. What about poor Alex who had loved her so completely? What had she done? She’d thrown him away because she couldn’t face the implications. Simply could not take a chance on him when he had proven himself over and over and had persevered so valiantly over the years to make things up to her, trying to earn her forgiveness and now he was lost to her. She chastised herself. When was she going to face up to life, grasp it by the shoulders and get on with it? Well, life had caught up with her now and this time she had better be up to it.

  She went down to breakfast filled with determination to make things right in that place, her home, that made sense of the present and held so much promise for the future.

  ****

  Later that day, the three women sat in the sun room. The patio doors were open and a cool breeze wafted through. The sound of the waves coming to shore was drowned out periodically by the wind which was beginning to pick up. The older woman addressed her granddaughter.