Y. Vonne Beck? Volume 1

CHAPTER 1

1992

You killed your mother, you diseased tramp! Now you’re doing the same to me! He grabbed the back of her neck and forcefully pushed. Get out! I never want to see your fucking face again. He held tight, physically and painfully dragging her through the rooms and halls of the house. You whoring bitch!

She sobbed hysterically. No, Daddy, don’t. Please don’t. I love you. Don’t. I’m sorry!

You and that motherfucking Jap! Her father hurled her past the threshold and slammed the front door.

Vonne fell to the veranda floor unable to catch her breath. The air jammed at the bottom of her throat, choking her. When she finally gasped, tears released her utter fear. Vonne crawled, then sat down on the front steps of the house where she grew up. The neighbourhood was quiet. She sat with her thoughts, resting her head in her hands, her body trembling in shock.

The side door banged once, startling her from her thinking, then hit a second time, echoing its closure. The off-centre door had to be slammed hard so that the lock could catch. Her father was going out, most likely to see his girlfriend. Vonne ran to the opposite side of the house to hide. She waited and listened. She heard footsteps, fast and furious, the heavy heels and soles of her father’s shoes against the concrete sidewalk. The car door opened and shut. The engine revved sadistically. Her daddy took off, laying a strip of rubber from the edge of the driveway to the stop sign three houses away. He didn’t stop.

Sol had locked the house. That didn’t matter. Vonne had sneaked out and in again many times during the two years since her mother’s death. The trash bin—a wooden box that sheltered two garbage cans—stood heavy next to the side door. She wedged herself between the box and the brick wall, a two-foot extension of the garage at the side of the house, and braced herself. With her feet resting securely on the brick and her back against the box, she pushed. As she stretched out, the container inched forward, and then slid past the side door exposing a basement window. She gave herself a minute to settle from the strain then knelt down. Her fist pounded the bottom corners of the window frame several times before it gave way.

Vonne lowered herself down into the basement, and then hurried to her bedroom upstairs. She didn’t have much of a wardrobe but packed what she wanted into an old duffel bag. The ceramic bunny had a long life on the shelf above her desk. That little bank had been a gift from her uncle on her sixth birthday—its demise was deliberate and swift when it smashed on the wood floor. The five hundred and some-odd dollars that had been scrimped and saved over the years scattered. Vonne gathered the money and dropped it into her bag.

Edie’s jewellery box sat on top of the triple dresser in the master bedroom. Vonne stared at the contents. Her mother had left it to her. All very old pieces, some still in their original decorative cases: her grandmother’s collection of costume brooches, necklaces and bracelets, and the strands of pearls Vonne played with as a very young girl, also imitation. She sifted through a multitude of rings, which included her mother’s engagement ring. Edie told her Sol replaced the original diamond with glass. He had to sell the stone, needing money to invest in a new venture. Regardless of its classification, the collection would always be sentimental. Edie had fabricated romantic tales to go along with each bauble—something handed down, something she would pass on to her child, stories from a grandmother. Vonne thought to take it only when the time came to leave home to make her own way in the world. I guess that day’s today, baby. She rubbed her belly and wiped the tears from her face. Vonne opened the blue velvet pouch trimmed with gold piping—the one where she used to save her glass marbles—and emptied the stash into it, all except for the ring with the green stone, the peridot, her mother’s birthstone as well as her own.

Vonne recalled the special afternoon mother and daughter spent downtown. They’d gone to see the musical Cats, and then out for dinner. Edie ordered a small piece of cake for dessert. A muddled assembly of five servers gathered to sing the unmistakable, though discordantly off-key, Happy Birthday. Vonne remembered that wonderful afternoon clearly. I love you, my beautiful girl, always. Edie kissed her daughter and handed her a pretty little box. Vonne opened the lid and gasped with glee. It’s called peridot, Edie explained. It’s our birthstone. This one’s for you, the same as mine, only with your initials, my heart. Vonne examined the ring, then kissed and hugged her mother lovingly.

I’ll never take it off. She’d slipped it down her middle finger. Now, fleeing her home, she took Edie’s ring and slid it onto her pinkie. She wore her own ring on her fourth finger.

Vonne took one last look at her bedroom. Her eyes circled the perimeter. She caught sight of her two favourite photos sitting on the corner of her desk. She grabbed them and left.

Y. Vonne Beck—the Y didn’t stand for anything. Her parents originally named her Yvonne, but when Sol filled in the forms registering her birth, he absentmindedly misplaced the letters. The name on her birth certificate came back as Y. Vonne. I liked your name without the Y, Edie smiled at her daughter. Vonne liked her name too.

She had been rebellious, though not deliberately spiteful. Her foul mouth, a way to be tough, was meant to ward off people she deemed hostile. She was not a thief, nor one to look down on others less fortunate. She just didn’t like to follow the rules. They always seemed too restricting at the time. She liked doing her own thing. Vonne loved to have a good time. She smoked the odd cigarette, yet never indulged in alcohol or drugs—she needed to be in control. Sex, yes. An entirely different vice—she loved to be loved. Yet she maintained her standards, being particular, choosing only the brightest of the bright. She hated stupid boys, and girls, for that matter. Her school counted Vonne among the brightest of the bright—still with so much to learn.

Sixteen. An age of innocence and yet not so. Her unruly ways began when she turned thirteen. That’s when the Rabbi had emphasized the word "woman." "You are a woman now. Vonne Beck had been the consummate golden child. Her father had praised her in his speech to the guests at her Bat Mitzvah party. Sol held her close and told her how much he loved her. It had been a nightly ritual to say I love you," along with a kiss to her brow and the tip of her nose before bedtime. Vonne, a child so sweet, so charming … no one could have expected the insubordinate change. It didn’t happen at the snap of fingers. Over the course of several months the respectful girl gradually and readily became indignant, presumptive and argumentative. More often than not, Vonne completely overlooked her parent’s wishes, just as they dismissed her needs and requests. Promiscuity became her revenge, though Sol and Edie had no idea of her shameful morals.

Perhaps her parents had more to do with the about-face in her disposition than anyone realized. Edie and Sol’s relationship (Vonne had perceived it as a loving and generous union) had become gravely stressed. Throughout their marriage, Edie took offence to Sol’s habitual smoking, her mother’s only grievance as far as Vonne ever knew. He wouldn’t give it up, not for the love of his wife or his daughter. He smoked at home inside the house, in their bed, in the car, in restaurants, even in places designated non-smoking.

Unknown to Vonne at the onset, Edie was diagnosed with lung cancer not long after the Bat Mitzvah. Upon being told the truth, the fourteen-year-old became furious at having been kept in the dark and outraged at her father’s smoking habit. Edie and Sol had their own worry and remorse to deal with, and left Vonne to fend for herself. She turned to her friends—boyfriends.

Five months had not been a long enough time to say goodbye. In fact, Vonne had no time at all. Her mother didn’t want her to see the pain and suffering and asked that her only child be kept away. Edie Beck died of heart failure on the first night of Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year, at the age of thirty-eight. Instead of consoling one another, father and daughter dissociated. Vonne, who had been given an enriched Hebrew education and did feel a strong bond to her religion, lost faith. Sol buried his wife, and his emotional sensitivities to his daughter. The loss of his beloved Edie proved overwhelming and he could not succour his daughter. Vonne had lost her mother—her best friend. She grieved alone in her bedroom during the day, and against her father’s orders went out at night to be with her friends. Sol’s bitter words only added to Vonne’s animosity.

She did well in school, always at the top of her class, regardless of the subject. Ken Terada entered her life five months after her mother died. He was a whiz kid. No one in the school held a candle to his brilliance. They met the first day of the new semester, in Chemistry.

Vonne and Ken, both fifteen, were inseparable. They spoke to each other first thing in the morning, and at night before going to sleep. She lived south of the school, he lived just north. They shared only that one class.

Vonne spent a great deal of time with Ken and his family. Sol didn’t approve and displayed his objection by completely ignoring the boy the few times he showed his face at the house, his coldness blatant. Aside from not being Jewish, Ken’s Japanese ethnicity curdled Sol’s blood. He hated all Japs.

Ken’s mother, father, brother and sister offered Vonne family values, their kindness and respectful ways were always heartwarming. Vonne thrived in their midst.

That summer had been the best for both teens. They went to summer school studying two subjects each, both wanting to fast-track in order to graduate a year early and go on to university. Vonne had always set her goals high. She wanted to study medicine. Ken was unsure. Though, no matter the profession, he would excel.

After school, they studied together then spent some evenings with friends. Most nights they would just take a walk and enjoy the summer’s grace.

Nearly a year to the day his wife died, Sol began dating a woman he met through a mutual friend. It had no effect on Vonne’s life. She barely saw the man. Their house, no longer a home, was merely an address and had been for a long time. She initiated many conversations with her father, but he seemed disinterested and pushed her away. Vonne felt abandoned and drew closer to Ken’s family.

She had no grandparents. Her uncle, her mother’s brother, lived in Israel. Vonne never met the man.

Edie’s friends had tried on several occasions to reach out to Vonne and Sol, extending numerous dinner invitations, which never transpired since Sol refused every one.

In early spring, Ken took Vonne for a walk to the neighbourhood park around the corner from his house; not an unusual thing to do as the park happened to be one of their favourite hangouts.

With the weather on the cool side and the ground wet and sloppy, Vonne thought they could have gone somewhere with more atmosphere, …like the mall. It’s cold out here. Ken, come on. What’s up? I’m freezing my butt off!

Ken stopped at the swings in the playground where they’d had many a joyful skirmish chasing each other, laughing, toying with their emotions, enjoying life. He put his arms around her and held tight, trying to maintain composure. We’re moving to Japan. he buried his face in her shoulder to hide his tears. She could feel him trembling as he reasoned, My dad accepted a new job. The money’s just too good.

Vonne’s energy dissipated. She went limp and stepped away from him. She had become so emotionally dependent on this boy. Ken had begged his father to reconsider; the thought of leaving Vonne behind broke his heart. Both teens were unnerved.

When? she asked, drying her eyes with the tissue she’d taken from her jacket pocket.

As soon as school’s done for the year. Do you think your father would let you come with us? he asked foolishly.

You’re kidding, right? He’ll be celebrating, Vonne answered cynically, thinking about Sol’s intolerance.

Ken wrapped his arms around her. They both cried. He whispered in her ear, I love you, Vonne Beck. I’ll always love you.

The next few months proved difficult. They managed by pretending the move had been cancelled. Two nights before Ken’s departure, the two sad souls went for a quiet dinner to their favourite eatery not far from the Beck’s house. After the meal, of which neither ate much, they walked to Vonne’s. Sol was out, probably for the night. He spent more and more time with a woman whom Vonne had met only twice. Her name was Gloria, and that’s all she really knew.

Edie had decorated Vonne’s room with love, in lavender and lace. Vonne had been so excited and so proud. Now it was only a room, a place to rest her body.

Ken and Vonne made love for the last time in her bed. They promised themselves to each other. Both knew the odds—they would most likely never see each other again.

The next day, one day before Ken and his family’s scheduled flight to Japan, Vonne said her goodbyes. The tearful and taxing event made her physically ill. The girl that had endeared herself to the entire Terada family left alone, refusing to allow Ken to take her to her house. It was just too painful.

July corroborated the weatherman’s forecast: unbearably hot and sticky. Vonne went to summer school again to attain two more credits toward matriculation. Mid-August, she found a job at the Canadian National Exhibition working inside one of the pavilions demonstrating the latest in virtual reality technology. She didn’t know all that much about it; however, she trained for three days prior to the opening. The great pay and the opportunity to work indoors in an air-conditioned facility made it extra special.

She began feeling unwell with a strange sickness the first week of her new job. She felt nauseated at times, yet had no fever. She found her work greatly hampered. Her manager had to remind her several times during the week, Get up and help those people. You’re not here to rest your lazy bones.

Vonne quit after two weeks, unable to handle the queasiness. The day after giving up her job, she awoke early in the morning seriously burdened by nausea, soreness in her breasts and dizziness. Her pediatrician had retired not long after her mother died. Vonne had not had a check-up since then. She rarely came down with anything more than a sniffle, and she didn’t have her mother to arrange and remind her of appointments.

The walk-in clinic’s hours read nine a.m. until eight-thirty p.m. At eight forty-five in the morning she sat on the sidewalk just to the left of the door. A woman turned the latch precisely at nine. Before Vonne had a chance to stand up, three people walked in ahead of her.

After presenting the receptionist with her health card, Vonne took a seat in the waiting area to fill out a personal health questionnaire, which barely took any time. She then watched the clock. Fifteen minutes later a uniformed nurse showed her to the examination room.

Vonne waited another fifteen minutes. Fuck, what’s taking so long? she thought out loud, pacing within the small confine.

All at once the examination room door opened. Vonne jumped. I’m sorry I startled you. I’m Dr. Bloom. The young woman set a new folder on the counter.

They talked for a few minutes, some pleasantries and then straight to the point. You can use the facility through there. Dr. Bloom opened the door and pointed across the hall. Leave a urine specimen. Containers are on the counter. The doctor left the room. Vonne did as asked then returned to the examination room to undress and slip into a paper gown.

Dr. Bloom returned shortly to complete Vonne’s physical examination. After only a few minutes, she asked Vonne to dress and meet her in her private office.

The small, windowless room seemed inadequately lit and drably decorated—simply framed diplomas hung on the wall. The desk, pushed into the far corner, had been precisely organized with lab forms, pens and pharmaceutical reference books. Vonne seated herself adjacent to Dr. Bloom.

There is no easy way to say this. Dr. Bloom turned to face her patient and placed a supportive hand on Vonne’s shoulder. You’re pregnant. The teen shuddered at the news. You have options, the doctor said. You could abort. You could take the pregnancy to term and give the child up. There are many fine couples wanting to adopt. Or you could raise the baby yourself. The father? asked Dr. Bloom.

He’s not here. He’s gone, left the country. Vonne’s mind flooded with disjointed thoughts, spinning out of control.

What about your parents? Dr. Bloom asked compassionately.

We used a condom. How? Why me? Vonne’s tears surfaced.

The house felt unusually warm when she walked in. The thermostat read 30° Celsius. The control switch was set on cool. The air conditioner must be broken, Vonne said when she called her father at work. In turn, Sol called the repairman and ordered his daughter to wait at home.

Ken had left Vonne with a temporary municipal address. We’ll be there six weeks, and then we move to a permanent residence, he’d said to her the last day they spent together, and I’ll send you that address as soon as we settle in Tokyo. Vonne went outside to the veranda to sit and write.

Ken, I miss you so much. I hoped to hear from you by now, but you’ve sent nothing. I’ve been miserable without you. I went to school in July, and ended up with 90 in English and 86 in History. I know I slipped up, but you weren’t here, and my concentration was off. I worked at the Ex and made pretty good money. I’m going to buy some new clothes.

I wanted you to know that you’ll always be a part of me. You’ve given me a gift that will maintain our bond. I hope your new life is going well.

Love you forever,

Y. Vonne Beck?

Vonne had never spoken to her father about Ken. He wouldn’t have listened. Nor did she tell Sol that Ken had left the country, nothing could matter when it came to Ken. Her father hated the slant-eyed little prick.

School started the day after Labour Day—almost all the same teachers, the same routines. But for Vonne, her world was about to change drastically again.

By the middle of October, she’d started to show—not much, enough that her jeans wouldn’t close. For the first time, her grades suffered. Her mind whirled in chaos. She’d debated with herself what to do with the life inside. She couldn’t abort, and the thought of someone else raising her child didn’t sit well with her.

Early in November, she decided to deal with the devil. Daddy… Sol didn’t look up from the newspaper. I have to talk to you. It’s important. Vonne took a deep breath. Daddy, I’m kind of in trouble.

No one could have predicted the anger and irrationality that followed that disclosure. Vonne never imagined that he would have or even could have spoken to her the way he did. Did you ever give any consideration to anyone else? Your mother died—my wife. Do you know how much she suffered? You piece of garbage, you’re nothing more than a brainless whore. You’re no daughter of mine. Get the hell out!

Vonne spent the night at a friend’s house. She didn’t share her true reasons for not going home. Hours of silent tears gave way to a distressed sleep. She went to school in the morning. Vonne had class but opted to wait in the guidance office for the first available time slot with Mrs. Rush.

She saw no point in hiding the truth. Vonne opened up to the teacher, revealing her predicament. Mrs. Rush called Jewish Family Services and put her student in touch with the right people, people who could help.

Placed with a kind family within her school district, Vonne lived in a basement bedroom and had the use of the necessary facilities. She usually ate her meals alone. The Hoffman’s had odd hours and spent little time at home. Vonne didn’t mind. She studied.

At school Vonne had a very small circle of girlfriends. She trusted them with her secret, and did well hiding her pregnancy. Still, secrets slip out. Vonne had alienated one girl in particular: Melia headed up the hit squad. The team, in front of the filled-to-capacity cafeteria, threw Vonne a booby shower. The meanies did their utmost to entertain the crowd. They mocked, singing songs intended to insult, dancing with pillows stuffed against their bellies under their clothes, and passing out baby bottles and pacifiers in loot bags tagged with donations gladly accepted in the pregger’s honour. Vonne ran.

The humiliating incident forced her out of the mainstream. She did her schooling through correspondence and naturally did well. Still, sadness, loneliness and isolation gave way to long bouts of crying.

Her friends knew where to find her and kept in touch during the beginning of her exile. But as time progressed, the calls dwindled and finally stopped. They had their priorities, and Vonne really didn’t feel part of the crowd anymore. Her pregnancy was a hot topic and the gossip made her uncomfortable. Still, a friend or two for support would have been welcomed.

CHAPTER 2

On March 10th at 3:10 in the afternoon, Vonne, after fifteen hours of labour, delivered her 7lb. 3oz. son. At first, she feared holding him. He seemed delicate, fragile. He won’t break, the nurse smiled.

The precious little life nestling in her arms and suckling at her breast amazed and dazed the young mother. He was beautiful and perfect—ten perfect little fingers, ten perfect tiny toes—she examined every inch, and never thought she could love anyone or anything more.

Though her faith had diminished greatly, Vonne’s undermined allegiance to her religion surfaced. Through Jewish Family Services she arranged for a mohel, a medical doctor specializing in brit milah, the ritual circumcision, to ceremoniously execute the rite.

On March 18th, Dr. Haim blessed Jonathan Ken Beck according to the tenets of Hebrew law. This is his covenant with God, the mohel said. You have honoured your son. Then he quoted the Bible, And he that is eight days old, shall be circumcised among you, every male throughout your generations. Genesis 17:12.

The tiny flat in the rooming house downtown barely accommodated one. As an emancipated minor, Vonne applied and received government assistance. A social worker from JFS tried to reason with Sol Beck, to no avail. He wanted nothing to do with that whore or her Jap bastard.

Vonne found it difficult adjusting to motherhood. She needed guidance. A nurse from the health department visited once a day for the first week. The visits decreased one day weekly, until the teen mom could cope on her own after six weeks.

Vonne loved her son and pledged to give him the very best of care. She read and studied all the books she could get her hands on regarding child rearing.

Vonne needed four credits to graduate high school but put that goal on hold for six months, until Jonathan was sleeping well through the night.

Her social life was nil. She did contact some of her old friends and they seemed happy for her, except their interests were otherwise directed: dating, movies, restaurants, the prom and, most importantly, learning to drive.

Since the tiny flat proved confining, Vonne and Jonathan spent a great deal of time outside, with the exception of extreme inclement weather. The outdoors meant room to breathe. She acquired a well-used carriage—everything she had for her baby and herself was second-hand—and they would walk.

The park two blocks from home was Vonne’s favourite wide-open space, it gave her a sense of country in the city—mature trees that touched the sky, camouflaged the cityscape and shaded the grounds. Often, she would stop the carriage beside one particular wood bench. It seemed layered with a century of flaking paint.

One beautiful May day Vonne sat on the bench with the baby carriage at her side, eating her lunch while reading a novel she’d picked up at a garage sale for a quarter. Jonathan slept. The scents of young flowers blooming and freshly cut grass ventilated the air. In the middle of the afternoon the park had few visitors.

Jonathan stirred and Vonne leaned into the carriage to check on her son. Hello my sweet boy. Look at you—yes, big stretch. She picked him up then cooed and giggled at his smiling face. Can I have a kiss? She smooched his cheeks. Delicious. You are so yummy, yummy for Mummy.

Jonathan began to cry. Vonne checked her watch and realized the time. She positioned her son and covered up with a light receiving blanket. She opened her blouse then released the bra cup. Jonathan hungrily latched on to his mother’s breast. Vonne relaxed, confident with her maternity.

A Frisbee whizzed by, narrowly missing her head. She felt the sudden whoosh of the disc as it soared past, and quickly moved her head and shifted sideways in reflex to the fly-by toy. A man on a bike took the fall-out of the wayward projectile. The Frisbee hit the spokes of his front wheel and he ended up on the ground.

Are you okay? Vonne asked, standing up in concern.

Yes, thanks. he managed a smile. The man picked himself up, brushed off various bits of grass, twigs and dirt from his pant legs and hands, then leaned his bicycle against the side of the bench. Two young men came running.

Hey, sorry ‘bout that. I’m out of practice, said the one wearing a grey T-shirt adorned with words in shocking pink: Normal people scare me.

The cyclist introduced himself. Wilson Decaen.

The guy in the grey T-shirt extended his hand. Gee, I don’t know what to say.

Don’t take up the discus any time soon! Wilson answered dryly, accepting the handshake.

No, I guess not. I’m Kaz and this is my bud, Bud, said the guy wearing the grey T-shirt. He laughed and placed his other hand on Bud’s shoulder.

Kaz and Bud turned out to be university students enjoying the spectacular spring sunshine, and they felt truly remorseful. Wilson, a regular in the park—Vonne had noticed him many times—seemed delighted by their guilt.

Gee, what am I thinking, are you all right? Kaz asked Vonne.

I didn’t end up on my behind. I never realized how dangerous those things can be. Vonne raised her eyebrows.

Still carrying the extra pounds of her pregnancy and her face full with the roundness of youth, Vonne didn’t turn heads. She wore her chestnut-brown hair shoulder length and its natural red highlights glistened in the sunlight. Her bright smile revealed a crooked left incisor, slightly overlapping her left front tooth, but it was her eyes that caught his attention. They sparkled distinctly, one green, one brown.

Oh geez. Kaz checked his watch. I’ve gotta get going. Got a class in ten minutes. The young men apologized again and hurried off. Wilson sat down.

You don’t mind, do you? he asked.

No, it’s nice to have some company, Vonne smiled.

Are you babysitting? Wilson pointed to the carriage.

Uh … no, she said as she brought her little one out from under cover.

Wilson widened his eyes as Vonne revealed her infant son. Her blouse was open, partly exposing her breast. Clearly, she’d been nursing.

Oh! Do you want me to leave? he asked nervously, obviously embarrassed.

It’s up to you. I’m happy for you to stay. Vonne sat the baby on her lap, supporting his tiny chin between the V of her thumb and index finger. She gently patted his back. Jonathan puffed a burp.

That’s a good boy. She held him up and kissed his button nose, then changed sides and continued nursing.

Wilson, taken aback, gawked at the teenager.

Vonne narrowed her eyes, looking at the man. Are you all right?

He snapped out of his staring. Sorry, the baby’s yours.

I’m not sorry, Vonne smiled proudly. This is Jonathan. He’s almost eleven weeks.

Wilson opened the conversation. I have two boys and a girl. Don’t see them anymore. My ex has the kids. We’ve lost touch.

I’m sorry. Vonne teared up, sad for him.

I’m used to it. I suppose you get used to anything, he considered.

I hope not. I hope one can change the things one isn’t happy with. Vonne had to be optimistic.

Are you happy? he asked.

I’m happy with my baby, if that’s what you mean. The rest will take time, she answered, thinking about her contentment and nodding her head. By the way, I’m Vonne.

Judging by his appearance, Wilson—a slight man of short stature in his late forties—seemed a drifter. His long, unkempt dark hair streaked with bands of grey sat flat, matted by his bicycle helmet. Odd bits of grime nested within his scruffy full beard. His tight-fitting clothing, stained at the right shoulder and down the side of the shirt, showed signs of wear at the knees and elbows.

Wilson quashed Vonne’s first impression. I live in a house just north of the city. I rent a room. It’s all I need.

Jonathan had had enough nourishment and fell asleep. Vonne carefully placed him on his back in the carriage. When she had the baby safely tucked in, Wilson offered Vonne a drink of apple juice. He had two cans in his backpack. She gratefully accepted.

They spent an hour discussing life. He showed a keen interest in her sentiments. Vonne explained how she managed to get from point A, being a brash, carefree teenager, to point B, being alone and a single teenage mother. He empathized. He knew the pain of being alone, living alone. Except his life was by choice, and hers by circumstance.

Vonne and Wilson left the park at the same time. He walked next to her with his bike at his side as she pushed Jonathan in the carriage. A wayward feather fell from the sky and lodged in her hair. Vonne flinched and tried to brush it out, but it had become tangled in her hair.

Wilson lent a hand. Here you are. He offered her the sturdy, finger-sized plume. A white feather for your cap.

I’ve done nothing to deserve this, she laughed.

You sure have. Wilson patted her on the back. You’ve taken responsibility for your actions. Commendable.

They parted ways at the corner. She turned right, Wilson continued straight on.

Kaz and Bud played in the park the next day, attempting to perfect their sport. You guys should take up fishing! Vonne shouted across the way.

They laughed and waved. She stopped the carriage at her favourite bench, then brought Jonathan out into the sunshine.

She fitted a miniscule baseball cap over his tiny head of long black hair. You’re gonna need a trim. You’re so cute, my sweet boy. Vonne wrapped her arms securely around the baby and squished and kissed. "God, I love you, aisoku."

The Frisbee sailed by, this time not nearly as close. She heard Bud yell as Kaz ran for the plastic orange disc, That’s it for me. Professor Dickhead will have my head if I walk in late again.

Kaz nonchalantly sauntered over to Vonne and the baby. Whose kid?

Mine, she answered defensively.

Okay. I’m not judging. Sorry ‘bout yesterday. he felt a little awkward, finding her motherhood disconcerting.

She changed the subject. I thought university classes were over for the year?

I need one more credit. This course is over the end of the month, Kaz explained.

What are you studying? Vonne rested Jonathan against her shoulder and gently rubbed his back.

Theatre. I’m an actor. He sat down on the bench.

Can you make money at it? I mean, if you’re not, like, famous? Vonne just wanted the conversation to carry on.

Not much money yet. But, I get work here and there. I’ll give it a shot. If nothing happens, my dad wants me to work with him in the family business, or maybe I’ll go back to school. I have time. But I’m good. Really good, he boasted, raising his eyebrows.

Vonne repositioned Jonathan and cradled him in her arms. Kaz made a silly face at the baby.

He’s not ready to respond to that kind of goofiness. Vonne laughed a little.

No? Can I hold him? Kaz reached out. I have a niece. She’s almost a year old. I’m great with her, he said assuredly.

Vonne, with a watchful eye, said, Just support his head, and relinquished her son to Kaz’s extended hands. He continued making faces. Jonathan did smile. Vonne beamed in awe. It warmed her heart to see her little one react to someone other than herself.

See, he likes me, Kaz boasted.

You’re right, he does. I guess you’re good with kids, too, Vonne smiled.

Jonathan started to cry. Without reason, Kaz thought.

He’s hungry, that’s all. Vonne took the baby. And he probably needs to be changed. How are you with diapers?

Not my thing. He looked at his watch, Oops, gotta run, got an audition in an hour.

See ya. Vonne felt a little sad. Bye. Kaz inadvertently forgot the Frisbee on the bench. She called to him, but it was too late. He never learned her name and he never returned to the park.

CHAPTER 3

Wilson Decaen visited the park, usually five out of seven weekdays. He befriended Vonne and Jonathan and their camaraderie grew with each visit. His lifestyle, though atypical, offered Vonne great security—having someone who genuinely cared gave her hope. He came to represent a father figure to both.

Vonne continued with her studies. Jonathan was a wonderful baby. He ate and slept and rarely cried or fussed, even when teething began. She found a subsidized playgroup at the local community centre. Both mom and tot enjoyed the social and learning aspects.

Wilson often brought toys and trinkets for his young friends. He enjoyed being with them. Vonne shared her school essays with him, and gratefully accepted his input. A high-school teacher by profession, now retired; his wealth of knowledge proved invaluable. Her work was well above the average—well above what he had been used to at the high-school level. Wilson marvelled at her intelligence.

I know I’m smart, she admitted, but I sure went wrong somewhere along the way. Jonathan garbled out some incomprehensible utterance. They laughed.

God, how can he be wrong? He’s incredible. Vonne kissed her son randomly all over his face.

When Jonathan turned nine months old, Vonne decided she needed more space. The tiny flat, overrun with toys, books and other paraphernalia, felt cramped. A playpen, which never could contain the baby (he managed to pile up the toys and climb out) sat open, used only for storage.

Wilson helped Vonne look for other accommodations. Good fortune came in the way of a new government housing development on the waterfront; they happened by at the right time. The complex combined several ideal amenities as part of the construct: a medical clinic, a daycare, a convenience store and a bank. The tiny two-bedroom apartment with new appliances and new plumbing offered a sense of hope, and a most welcome haven. The windows came draped, but furniture would be a problem. She had none, only a crib for Jon; her flat had been furnished.

On a beautiful and mild January morning, Wilson—as only he could—pulled up in a rented van outside the house of Vonne’s tiny flat with a load of what he called an eclectic mix.

Where on Earth?! Wilson, this is awesome! she gasped, flabbergasted.

Hop in, he laughed.

As she opened the passenger door she stopped to reconsider. I can’t. I don’t have a car seat.

Fear not. He opened the side door. I’ve thought of everything.

Jonathan eagerly jumped into his arms, and Wilson set the boy in the appliance. He buckled him in then helped Vonne inside to sit beside her son, and off they went.

Okay, tell me. Vonne tapped Wilson’s shoulder.

He played dumb. What?

You know. She clenched her fists, frustrated with him. Stop being so…

Mysterious? he laughed. I didn’t steal it. Don’t think I did.

No. I would never think that, she assured him.

People toss things out, things that are perfectly fine. All kinds of things. Go figure. Wilson turned left, then stopped for a red light. I found all this last night on my way home from downtown. I rushed to the car rental place early this morning, leased the van for the day, and hurried back to the gold mine.

How can I ever repay you? Vonne reached forward and placed her hands on his shoulders.

I’ll think of something, young lady. Mmm … maybe you’ll let me stay with this kid of yours one night and you go out? Wilson quickly peeked at the rearview mirror to see Vonne’s face.

No, you do too much as it is. Vonne had tears in her eyes. Wilson remained stoic, he rarely demonstrated sentimentalities, even though Vonne and Jonathan had become family and meant the world to him.

It took the rest of the day to move the eclectic mix to the third-floor apartment. Wilson was tired. He dropped Vonne and Jonathan at the flat and headed north. He still had to return the truck and ride his bike home.

Vonne bundled herself up, and then the baby, and went for an evening stroll before his bedtime. With Jonathan securely buckled in the stroller, she walked while the baby babbled away, using his limited vocabulary mixed with garbled jabber.

Jon, how did we get so lucky? Wilson is our guardian angel. I don’t know what we’d do without him. Vonne moved along the sidewalk quickly, feeling happy.

Jonathan giggled and pointed at the brightly coloured umbrella sheltering the hot-dog vendor’s wagon and spoke. Daw, daw.

No, umbrella, she tried to explain.

Daw. He bounced in his seat.