Chapter 14

Her welcome back at Bible Camp after her night in the hospital was strange and overwhelming. Once again, she was uncomfortably at the centre of attention - the girl who came back from the dead. Thankfully, Samantha actually captured most of the spotlight, being the hero of their adventure, and her no-nonsense attitude went a long way toward stopping any talk which might, in her mind, upset Jesse. Still, the kitchen girls would solemnly re-tell the story to anyone who hadn’t heard, while others gathered round to listen once again. It was a pretty cool story, regardless of Samantha’s attempts to downplay her own heroism. They were careful not to dwell on the foolishness of Jesse’s panicked flight, but Jesse still cringed every time she was reminded of the incident.
Overall the camp seemed more subdued, perhaps a little more thoughtful. The staff morning prayer meetings had always included prayer for safety, and there was now a new awareness that these prayers were actually being answered. Prayers became bolder, more suitable for an all-powerful God who had done amazing things in the past, and could do them again.
One morning, a cook patted her on the shoulder lovingly as she sat down beside her, and in an accent that came partly from Wales and more from New Zealand, said “God sure has an angel watching over you, love.”
Jesse smiled. An angel? She didn’t know what to think about that. She hadn’t thought she really believed in guardian angels; she had never been taught to, anyway. Angels were messengers, not bodyguards. They didn’t tend to stick around for very long in the Bible; but they did protect people on occasion. Maybe it had been an angel who pushed her and Sam out of the way. Whatever the means, she had to admit that somehow, God had saved them, angel or no.
Still, the end of the week came as a relief. Saturday morning, after every camper was gone, and all her paperwork handed in to the office, Jesse stepped into her little cabin and sighed in contentment. It was warm, even with the breeze off the bay blowing in through the window, and she could feel the sweat forming on her forehead. Quickly, she finished packing her overnight bag and gave the room a once-over, making sure it was left in decent condition: the carpet was still full of sand that would not be budged by her sad little broom, but other than that it was quite presentable. As the door slammed noisily behind her she flinched at the sound of wood smacking against wood: even this far from home, she could hear her father’s frustrated reprimand ringing in her head.
“Sorry,” she whispered to the door, slipping the second strap of her bag over her left shoulder before heading toward the parking lot. Her ride could be here any time now.
But it didn’t arrive any time soon. The waiting wasn’t pleasant, even sitting in the cool shade of the willow tree. Waiting never is, if you’ve nothing to take your mind off the wait. At the sound of spinning gravel, Jesse’s hopes would rise up, and her heart would beat more quickly for a few agonizing seconds, until an unfamiliar vehicle would arrive in a cloud of red dust. Her tense anticipation dissolved, and she would descend again into plain boredom. This happened several times. Eventually, the car that came around the corner was for her, but it wasn’t her grandparents’: it was Uncle Reid’s silver Mazda. Jesse’s spirit faltered briefly, but within seconds she had braced herself for a ride with her uncle. He wasn’t a monster, after all. He was just, well, Uncle Reid. A half hour in a car with him wouldn’t kill her.
“So, I hear everyone at Bible Camp thought you were hit by a train,” was his first sentence to her after she threw her bag onto the front seat and came in after it. The words themselves were innocent enough, a simple observation, but they were delivered tauntingly. She looked sideways at him, seeing the same arrogance on his face that she had heard in his voice. She knew he was trying to provoke her. She’d been drawn into traps like this before, far too many. But she’d been younger then, and innocent. Not so anymore. She would not play into his game now, she couldn’t let him rile her.
“Yes, they did, for a while,” she agreed with him casually. Surely he couldn’t turn that against her.
He didn’t give up, though. “You’d have thought they’d have looked for a body before jumping to a conclusion like that.”
She could think of no intelligent reply to that, so she changed the subject as much as she dared. “It’s nice having Aunt Sandra at the hospital, seeing as I’m frequenting it so often. Is she working today?”
“She’s on call.”
“Oh.” Then silence for a few seconds. “Dom working this afternoon?”
“And again this evening.”
“Yeah?”
“Saturday night, some kids having a party.”
So no Dom tonight, at least not until later. And Aunt Sandra could very well desert her too. She looked over at Uncle Reid. “Are Nana and Papa at camp?”
“I imagine they’ll be out for supper.”
At least she wouldn’t be alone with him all day. Her Grandparents were weird, but they weren’t deliberately cruel the way Uncle Reid could be. They knew about her pregnancy, but avoided talking about it directly even if they alluded to it sometimes. Uncle Reid was another story. Anything was fair game for his amusement. She wondered if he knew about the problem Aunt Sandra had found with the baby.
“Your sister used to be afraid of railroad tracks, you know.”
Jesse glanced at him quickly. “Yes, I know.” What did he know about it? Her expression darkened. She didn’t like him talking about May.
“I just find it interesting, that’s all.”
“Lots of people are afraid of trains.”
“Oh, she wasn’t afraid of trains. When she was little she loved taking the train out here with you and your mom. It was only the tracks she was afraid of.”

Nana urged her to eat more. In front of her were cabbage rolls, perogies with fried onions, smokies, and a salad with red onion in it. She had already eaten two perogies with all the small pieces of onion carefully picked off. The smell of the remaining food, which no doubt served to whet the appetites of her Polish and Italian family, made it difficult for Jesse to even hold down what she’d had. She took a piece of bread and tried to refuse the rest without reminding them that she didn’t like onions or cabbage, or eat meat.
After supper Nana and Papa had company for dessert and cards, an older couple from a few camps over. When Jesse was introduced as “Theresa’s eldest”, she just barely managed to catch herself before correcting them. As soon as she believed she had been sufficiently polite, she quietly slipped out. After a moment or two of silent glances between the guests and her grandparents to confirm that she was ‘the one’, there had been none of the usual questions about where she was going to school, what she was studying or where she was living. She knew they were relieved when she took a book out to the screened-in porch.
It was still light out, and she settled herself on a couch. She could hear them talking about her. She used to like to sit in an inconspicuous corner or hallway and listen to her parents brag about her and her sisters to their friends over coffee. As different as this conversation was in comparison, it reminded her of those days.
“So that’s the one you told us about, Mary?” came an old lady’s voice.
“That’s Jesse,” her Nana said matter-of-factly.
“Well she’s not showin’ or anythin’, that’s a good thing. Has she decided to keep it, do you know?”
“Well her parents probably won’t let her have an abortion, see, they’re Christians,” her Papa said.
“Her parents nothing!” Nana fumed. “The girl’s old enough to make her own decisions. She’s as religious as the rest of them. She thinks it would be a sin!” Her Nana spat out the word contemptuously, and there was the sound of cards being slapped on the table.
“So she’s havin’ it, but is she keepin’ it or puttin’ it up for adoption, do you know?”
“Mitsy, why don’t you mind your own business for once?” came her husband’s gruff voice.
“I’m concerned for the girl, is all,” came Mitsy’s defensive reply. “It can’t be healthy for her to be undecided, you know. Someone’s got to tell her she just can’t keep it.”
“And why shouldn’t she?” asked her Papa.
“Oh now Miron, be serious. You don’t want your grandchild raising this thing.”
“If she wants it, let her keep it. It’s none of my business one way or the other.” Papa’s sharp tone of voice, which Jesse heard very seldom, almost brought a smile to her lips. She knew, however, that his statement was not really a vote of confidence in her. It was exactly what he said: he had decided a few years ago that he should mind his own business, and he had steadfastly followed through with that resolution. He was like a man who’d had a religious experience.
“That’s right, it’s none of our business,” Mary agreed with her husband. “Jesse will do what Jesse will do.”
Jesse looked down at her hand resting defensively on her stomach. They were talking about her. Not some stranger, not someone she’d only read about in a newspaper, but about her. And about this baby. She could hardly believe it. All this discussion, all this gossip, was because of this child. This little child... her child. The child she had to protect at all costs. She could protect it, she knew, as long as she carried it in her own body. It was safe there; but who would protect it afterwards? Who would protect it from people like these, and their thoughtless words? She could handle them, but could a child? She couldn’t shelter it alone.
“You know, she’s right out there in the porch, she can probably hear you.”
Jesse’s head snapped up. That was Uncle Reid’s voice. He had been reading in a chair on the far side of the room while the older ones played cards at the table.
“Oh she cannot,” Nana said dismissively. “The door’s closed.”
“These walls are paper thin, Mum. She’s heard every word.”
“Well if she has, we haven’t said anything bad about her,” Papa said, sounding annoyed.
“I just thought I’d tell you before you did,” said Uncle Reid.
Jesse just sat, not knowing what to do. Anything now could appear suspicious. Somehow Uncle Reid’s advisory felt more like an accusation of her, for eavesdropping, more than anything else. She was guilty, of course, but it was hardly her fault. She should probably just read her book and forget about it. The book, however, could not engage her. She was trapped, and that made her feel edgy.
“God, what am I going to do?” she asked in silent plea. Why was she here? It used to feel like home here - now she just felt alone. She couldn’t relax, it seemed she was always on the defensive, waiting for some cutting remark. She was outnumbered and lonely - she’d never admit it to anyone, but it was true. Was she being selfish? She felt so weak, wanting someone to take care of her. That was exactly what she had left at home - a whole lot of people willing and ready to take care of her. She couldn’t remember why she’d left them.
“God, this really sucks,” she said out loud - knowing how immature it sounded.
She curled up on her side and lay with her head on the arm rest. She could see the sun edging closer to the rim of the mountains on the far side of the lake. A loon called its crazy call. Crying for the wind, she had once heard it said. She took in the beauty all around her and tried to let it bring her a sense of peace. The phone beside her head rang, and she picked it up. It was her mother.

In a somewhat brighter mood, she came back into the room where the adults were still visiting. Uncle Reid looked down his nose at her with pursed lips. “Was that your mother on the phone?”
“Yes,” she answered simply.
“Did she have anything to say?” her Nana asked while dealing cards.
“Nothing big.”
“How is your father doing these days?” Nana pressed.
“Is he coming up this year?” Papa asked.
“No, he can’t leave work,” Jesse answered tiredly. They weren’t very good at pretending they cared about her father. They didn’t have much use for him; never had, really. And while they professed to love her, she was beginning to feel more and more that they rejected that part of her - the part that was her Father’s.
Jesse walked into the back room and got her Bible. Returning to the living room, she took a seat on a couch close to the lamp Uncle Reid had turned on and read by the shared light. She couldn’t tell if he saw what she was reading, or if anyone else did, and she tried not to care. She wasn’t trying to make a statement, but it was hard to know what they thought about it. What did she look like to them? Did she appear arrogant, judgmental, foolish, weak? She realized her mind was wandering, and brought it back to the words in front of her. There was no point in going through this if she wasn’t going to concentrate.
It was Nana and Papa’s friend Mitsy who broke the silence. “What’ve you got to read there?” she asked, “a Bible?”
Jesse just looked up and nodded.
“Oh now, don’t tell me you believe in all that stuff.”
Jesse bit back a smart reply. She couldn’t be rude to her grandparents’ guest. Oh, but it was hard!
Her Uncle spoke for her instead. “Of course she does. Our Jesse’s a good little Christian, aren’t you Jesse?”
Why did he have to be so horrible? He was her uncle, for crying out loud! She tried to ignore him and answer Mitsy as respectfully as possible. “Yes, I do believe it. I’m a Christian.”
“Oh leave the girl alone, Mitsy,” her husband urged, embarrassed for his wife.
“I am leaving her alone,” said Mitsy. “I only asked her a question.” She turned back to Jesse. “Look at us old goats, bickering over nothing. What’s a girl your age doing out here with us anyway? You should be out having fun!”
Although it was something she might have said herself, Nana defended her against outsiders. “She likes camp, Mitsy. And she needs a rest, after spending all week with those bratty kids out at Bible Camp! Besides, she keeps her grandfather and me company.”

Jesse waited until they were all gone. First the guests, then her uncle, and finally, Nana and Papa. It was very late, and she almost decided not to do it after all, but mustered her courage at the last. Taking the key from its hook by the door, she ran out through the darkness to turn the sauna on. Back in the camp, she returned the key to its spot and undressed. She considered her swimsuit, hanging on a nail in her room, and seized it instinctively, quickly shoving it in the pocket of her flowered robe. In front of the tiny, dimly-lit mirror that reflected only half her face, she unbraided and brushed out her hair. Then she grabbed a clean towel from a laundry basket in the side room.
Finally, when all was ready, she took a deep breath for nerve and went back out into the night. The cold, hard-packed earth riddled with roots, and weedy grass scattered here and there, was cruel to her feet. Gaining the deck, the wooden boards were less treacherous, but her still-tender soles sensed their nighttime coldness. More than her eyes, her feet told her that the sun was not out, and that she should be in bed. They relayed the message to her knees, which complained with every bend. Then it reached her hips, which felt every jar that accompanied each hard step. From there it tingled up her spine, out to her fingers and up through her head. Her arms went numb, her neck tightened, and her brain felt dizzy. Still she walked to the end of the dock. She set the towel down beside her. She took her bathing suit out of her pocket and clutched it in her hand, unwilling to part with that ounce of safety. She surveyed the camps to her right, and the beach to her left. It was risky, this business, and it made her nervous. No one would be coming to camp this late, the immediate neighbour was never there at all, and none of the other camps were close enough to afford a good view. Her main concern was the public beach, but no one was there for the moment. There were no lights, no noises. She shut her eyes, shed her robe, and dove.
As the cold water slipped over her skin, she knew it was worth whatever danger she was putting herself in. Some might attribute it to adrenaline, but she knew it was a glorious feeling in and of itself: completely surrounded by clear, cleansing water, her body and soul were soothed for a few moments.
Her wet head, clung to by tentacles of freezing hair, emerged some distance from the dock. Teeth chattered. She was awake, alright, living and breathing and feeling - but what a pity she could only feel when she was wet and cold almost to the point of numbness. She tread water, needing to warm her muscles but not willing to go any further from the safety of the dock. The light from the camp was her only guide - the rest was bathed in blackness. She couldn’t tell where the lake, rock, and sky started or ended. Then gradually her eyes adjusted and made out the stars, but there was no moon at all, and she was sorry, though it meant she was safer.
Less than five minutes of this kind of being alive was all she could take. The hot sauna was a welcome refuge, and she lay down on the top bench with a sopping wet towel wrapped around her, staring at the yellow light through the window above the door, listening to the hum of electricity in the stove.
For a while she concentrated on nothing, thought of nothing, but just was, neither happy nor sad, or anything in between. But thoughts trickled in, sly and simple at first, nonthreatening in appearance. And in a few more minutes her mind was wandering towards some more serious matters, although without thinking of them seriously. She thought of how happy she was here, beside the lake and the trees and the hills, and of how the oppressive heat of the sauna made everything foggy and clear at the same time. She loved camp, it was her very favourite place, and swimming was her favourite thing to do. And then she thought it would be very nice if she could live here forever, not only coming for a vacation, but always being here, always feeling this way. She thought she would like nothing better than that. If she could only have a little house on this lake... and a sauna... and a little money to live on. But here was a problem - she had no money, and no way of getting any. One year of university was nothing; she was underqualified even to be a waitress.
She thought of the baby that would come, of home and of her Mum and Dad. There were people to take care of her, she was not alone or friendless. But to be dependent - at just the time when she was beginning to feel like taking care of herself, and getting the education that would make it possible - was not a pleasant thought. And her parents, though comfortable, were not well-off. The expense of a child returned, and an even more expensive grandchild added, was no small inconvenience. She would stay home alone with her baby, while her sisters went to school and her parents went to work to support them all, when they should really be starting to take things easier. As soon as she could, she would get a part-time job, and pay her sisters to babysit on evenings and weekends. It would not be a bad life. She was very lucky to have a family that would never think twice about taking care of her, and would never make her feel she was being given more than her share of anything. They wanted her. Of course she should go home - her parents would not have it any other way. It was her home as much as it ever had been.
Yet she did not want to go back. She wanted more than to sink into simplicity and obscurity, surrounded by those who loved her, but doing nothing of any great importance or excitement. She though of her other option - of the choice that would let her go on as near as possible to the way she had been before. Giving up the baby might almost erase the past. With nothing to remind her of the incident, she might eventually forget about it.
But she couldn’t make herself believe it. She knew how logical it was, and that no one would blame her for it, but that path only looked dark and lonely, though she told herself over and again that she would not be losing anything. No, her life had taken an unexpected turn, but now she was on it, it seemed wrong to try to go back. She could not give the baby up. Even if it were a boy, it was hers. No one else seemed to understand that; she didn’t understand it entirely herself, but she felt that she could love it, despite everything. It was a part of her, and she could not see it any other way. And it was exciting, sort of. She had never contemplated a future without a university education because it simply hadn’t been an option, but now it was thrust on her she found she handled it very well. Something in her longed to make a home for herself and this baby, to give it a happy childhood, here in the north where she was most happy herself. As much as she loved her own family, she could not like the city. She didn’t want to live in it herself, and in her mind it was no place for a child. A child needed clean air, and space and safety to run around freely - as she had when she was young. If only she could manage it somehow.
She was too warm, and she was thinking too much. She would take one more painful dip.