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DaphneBy Catherine MillsSUMMER 2005 EXCEPTIONAL VERY SHORT STORY CONTEST WINNER - HONORABLE MENTION |
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Daphne looked around her bedroom for a long while. She was trying to decide which of her stuffed animals she would cuddle with tonight. She finally chose the big pink ostrich. With its long gangly legs, it was probably the most hideous of all her toys. In her flowered nightie, and smelling of soap and baby powder, the four-year-old slipped into her bed and pulled the crisp white sheets and downy quilt up to her ears. She could almost hear her mother's slippers tap, tap, tapping on each step as Mommy hastened up the stairs to sing “Hush Little Baby,” the lullaby her little one never tired of. The child burrowed her damp blond curls into the pillow, as the well-oiled door to her nursery soundlessly opened. The Barrett family was one of the oldest and most respected in the region. Francis Barrett, Doc to his friends, had completed his medical degree just in time to be shipped overseas to Europe, where he witnessed atrocities that he would never forget. When he returned, he married the daughter of a wealthy horse breeder and built a home on his father-in-law’s estate. The next year, his young wife, while bearing their only child, a son, died. The man buried his distress in his work. His medical practice became the love of his life. His young son was forgotten. Little is known about the boy’s upbringing but, on a jaunt to Europe when he was in his early twenties, it seems that he met and soon married a countess and chose to live on the French Riviera. They occasionally returned home and, on one of their trips, they left their young child for an extended stay with his grandfather. They always sent their son, Greg, a Christmas gift and birthday card from whatever place they happened to be visiting at the time. As little or no attention Doc had paid to his own son, he simply doted on his grandson. He bought the local ambulance company and several funeral homes in the district deciding that, when he died, Greg Barrett would be a very prosperous young man. Greg was a hard-working, studious child who loved his grandfather. His best friend from the time he could remember was Ryan O’Donnell. The two boys were inseparable. Ryan’s family lived on the property just a short way down the road from The Big House. Ryan’s father worked for Doc as a jack-of-all-trades. Whereas Greg was a born gentleman, Ryan had always been a difficult child. People who knew the two wondered about the special bond between them. In Greg’s eyes, his red-haired, fiery, passionate companion could do no wrong and he defended his friend incessantly. Ryan apparently took Greg’s help and friendship for granted, and continued on his carefree way. “ That’s the Irish guile for you. That boy is exactly like his grandfather.” Ryan’s Mother would laugh, perhaps a little too proudly, when she was faced with another of her son’s shenanigans. “That old man could have gotten away with murder, and heaven knows he probably did. God rest his soul.” There was no doubt that the rascal could be a young charmer. The years passed and Doc knew that his productive days were over. His eyesight was poor and often, on cold damp winter mornings, his arthritis was so bad that he had trouble getting out of bed. He advised the medical community that he must dispose of his clinic and practice. The town in which the Barrett family lived was only about an hour’s drive from the capital. It was an ideal spot for raising a family. Crime was practically nonexistent and people minded their own business. Several young doctors were interested, but Doc chose two young women who had studied and done their internship together. And so, Dr. Mary Isabel Grogan and Dr. Miriam Welch moved to town. They made sure that Doc’s office remained exactly as it always had been. It was cleaned and polished every day. Often the old man would drop in to see a few of his oldest patients. The moment that Greg Barrett was introduced to Mary Isabel he smiled and said, “Dr. Grogan, would you agree to be the mother of my children?” The woman blushed. “Mr. Barrett, I’ll seriously consider your proposal.” They were married a few months later. Ryan was the best man and Miriam the matron of honour. Miriam caught the bride’s bouquet. Mary Isabel was pregnant when they returned from their month-long honeymoon. As a surprise for his wife, Greg had remodelled the old barn that overlooked the pastures behind The Big House. A brook meandered along the property and it was in this sumptuous home, with all of the most modern and expensive furnishings money could buy, that the couple began their married life together. Mary Isabel proudly took Miriam on a grand tour of the property a few days later. “It feels as if we’re a million miles away from everyone and everywhere.” Her friend marvelled as she looked through the French doors at the wooded area that hid the house from every other form of civilized life. Ryan and Miriam were invited to a celebration on New Year’s Eve. Mary Isabel had purchased the most expensive parchment she could find and had engraved a special request. “ Greg and Mary Isabel Barrett would be honoured if Madame Miriam Welch and Mr. Ryan O’Donnell would consent to be our baby’s Godparents.” They popped a cork and the four sipped champagne, toasting the wonderful times they shared. From the moment Daphne was born, her godparents took their responsibility very seriously. The christening gift from Uncle Ryan was a sterling silver spoon. Daphne lived a blessed life with a Daddy and Mommy who worshipped each other and their little one. Nothing was denied the child, who began riding her own pony almost before she could walk. Tati Miriam and Uncle Ryan spoiled her on every possible occasion. All of the little one’s primitive drawings portrayed four smiling adults with a little princess, standing under a cloudless blue sky. The years passed. Miriam Welch fell more and more in love with Ryan O’Donnell. “ Mary Isabel,” she confided, as the two friends sat sipping the dregs of their wine after dinner one evening. “Ryan’s wonderful. He’s the most adorable, handsome, considerate man I’ve ever known. There’s only one problem; I don’t know how he feels about me. We’ve known each other for years and I think he enjoys my company. We have a lot in common. The sex, well, I’d rather not discuss it! He never talks about his feelings or plans for our future. I’m not getting any younger and I want a little Daphne, so much.” “ Guess you’ll have to take the first step,” her friend advised. “Make it a joke. You could ask him if he wants to make an honest woman of you. Isn’t that the expression? Now, let me think, what other saying could you use that’s kind of trite and funny?” A few days later, very early in the morning, Miriam Welch came into the office. “I’ll be moving to Australia as soon as I can be replaced,” was all she had to say, as she and her best friend sobbed in each other’s arms. “ How can I tell Daphne that ‘Tati’ Miriam’s going away?” Daphne heard her mother crying one night. “Daphne loves Miriam as much as she loves me. Miriam’s been her second mother all these years. We’ve tried to arrange our schedules so that one of us is always here for Daphne. Tati Miriam plays with her for hours, feeds her the food she liked best. She’s interested in everything Daphne does or says. They’re best friends, Greg. Miriam’s never said ‘no’ to our daughter.” When they drove to the airport to kiss Tati goodbye, Daphne was heartbroken. “ Please don’t leave me, Tati Miriam. I love you so much. Please don’t go.” Miriam Welch tore herself away from the child. She never looked back as she fled across the airport to catch her plane. Mommy cuddled Daphne in her arms on their way home and promised, "Auntie Miriam’s only gone away for a little while, but she'll be back soon. When you love someone as much as she loves you, you can’t stay away too long. Now dry your tears. Uncle Ryan’s promised to come play with you tonight." Life returned to normal. Daphne began going to a day care centre. There were children of her own age there and she enjoyed her new life. Daddy would drop her off in the morning and Mommy would come for her at the end of the day. Her Mommy was always there. But, on a bleak November day, her Mommy did not come. All the other children had left a long while before. She heard people whispering. “Thugs . . . After drugs. . . Slashed her to pieces . . . Didn’t stand a chance.” Daphne knew that something must be terribly wrong, until Uncle Ryan appeared smiling and carrying Teddy Bear. “ Mommy had to go away,” he explained in a most pleasant manner as he fed her fried chicken with honey. Aunt Miriam must have told him that fried chicken was her favourite meal. The days passed. Daphne’s Mommy did not come home and her Daddy did not seem to notice her any more. He hardly ever spoke to her. He hardly ever was home, and when he was, he smelled of beer. Soon Ryan gave up his job as an ambulance driver. He moved into the house that Daphne had shared with Mommy and Daddy until then. The little girl did not go to the day care centre any more. " I'll learn how to sing “Hush Little Baby, and read you bedtime stories, Daphne Doo," her godfather promised as he fed her another piece of fried chicken and another dish of ice cream smothered with chocolate sauce. The town folks marvelled. “Those two men are incredible. Did you see how little Daphne is thriving? She’s gained so much weight since her poor mother died. She must be happy. It’s amazing how children can adapt and cope with anything, isn’t it?” As promised, Uncle Ryan learned all the songs she loved most. Every night after he bathed her, he would read her a bedtime story, and then, he would do things she did not like, things that hurt her. " You must never mention a word about the things we do together, Daphne Doo," he grinned in a threatening way. “Nobody will believe you. They’ll know that you’ve been a very naughty child and that's why your Mommy went away." Tonight night, Daphne burrowed her little head even more deeply into her pillow. She imagined that she can hear her Mommy's voice, “When you love someone as much as I love you, how could I ever stay away from you for very long?” Her special day was not too far away. Mommy would be home soon. She could not miss Daphne’s fifth birthday, could she? Tears slipped down Daphne Barrett’s cheek as the well-oiled door silently opened again. |
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| ABOUT THE AUTHOR A few years ago, my life changed drastically when my husband invaded my world by taking his pension, when my three children left home, and when I finally became a grandmother. As much needed therapy, I began to write. I never imagined how much pleasure this pastime, hobby, obsession, would bring me. I have been a member of The Quebec City English Writers Club almost since its inception, and, with the group's encouragement, I have written short stories, poems, essays, book reviews, and stories and poems for children. This year I was awarded first prize in two contests sponsored by The Quebec Chronicle Telegraph. The first was for my book review of “The Da Vinci Code,” and the second for an essay about my Grandfather’s experience during the World War 1. It was published in a special Remembrance Day edition of the newspaper. | |