Hummingbirds – Part Two

(Part One can be found here.)
Watching Ali bound off to a group of girls who seemed to have materialised out of nowhere, Louise could tell that they wanted to talk with her. Louise thought maybe she could wave and continue on home, but the girls were walking toward her. Well, better just to be friendly and cut this short – one of the girls stepped forward and Louise recognised her.

“We wanted to know the name of your dog. We always talk to him outside the bakery,” said the girl with long, brown hair.

“Your blue bicycle is really cool,” added the tallest girl of the group.

“We were wondering if we could see some of your paintings,” said another.

“Sure come on over tomorrow and I’ll show you some of my work if you’d like,” responded Louise. Suddenly it dawned on Louise that she’d never painted outdoors.

“How do you know that I paint?” she asked. The girls looked at each other and finally the brown-haired girl admitted that they had seen her painting one night while peeking in her windows. Louise was taken aback – and asked how often they had done this. “Oh, just once or twice when we’re down this way”, announced the tallest girl.

So Ali doesn’t bark at people he knows, Louise mused, but then began to wonder if he barked at anyone at all who came out this way. Before she had left Toronto, Ali had always barked at strangers. Louise hoped that he still did.

As the girls wandered off, Louise began thinking idly about her painting. She wasn’t sure how she felt knowing that her secret was out. Up till now, no one knew that she had survived these past three years by painting. On nights when she couldn’t sleep and when she couldn’t still her mind, she really had no choice but to pour her heart out in paint. Not for these nights were her carefully-controlled watercolour illustrations.

No matter Louise was alone, for when she was painting, the world righted itself and a sense of calmness descended. For a few hours, she could lose herself in splashes of vibrant colour and her ever-present music.

Inevitably, her thoughts turned to Frank and she oh-so-carefully exposed layer-upon-layer of hurt.

So often she wished for a place of forgetfulness or some way to banish these thoughts that snuck up on her, just as they had now. How had she lived in that state of blissful unawareness for so many of their years together?

She’d covered this ground so often and there really wasn’t any other answer than she had trusted Frank. Why wouldn’t she? She had always taken what he said at face value. And for a time, Louise knew that he had been in love with her.

When had that ended, she wondered? That was another one of those questions that would never have an answer. Frank claimed right to the end that he loved her and had always enjoyed their time together. Oh he was a charming one, he of the quick wit and cheerful demeanour. Just how would Frank have explained the various affairs he had during their years together? How could Louise not have had any inkling about them? Just another thing to curse Frank for – leaving so many questions unanswered.

Louise had been occupied with turning out beautifully-executed botanical drawings for discerning and demanding clients and had taken Frank at his word. Maybe she had been too wrapped up in her work. Frank’s contract work had taken him to Chicago for months at a time, although he mostly always made it home on weekends. There were times when Frank wasn’t particularly attentive, but Louise figured he was just pre-occupied with work. Louise remembered how, early on, she had tried to be more appealing, although that hadn’t really worked, had it?

Enough of this, thought Louise. She was tired of blaming herself for Frank’s behaviour. She understood now that he was a flawed person. For all his brilliance and fine wit, at bottom, his was a damaged soul.

It was only after his funeral that Louise discovered the extent of Frank’s illicit affairs. One woman sent her a sympathy note and mentioned that she had been a very close friend of Frank’s in Chicago. Later on, she called Claire and seemed quite happy to relate details of their affair. According to this woman, she stopped seeing Frank because, as she put it, she was “a good Catholic girl.”

With other of Frank’s affairs, Louise had found out through those so-called, well-meaning friends who made it their business to regale Louise with tales of Frank’s imbroglios. At the time, it infuriated her that these friends hadn’t filled her in on Frank’s affairs while they were happening.

Initially Louise had gone along with the verdict of accidental death by fire. It was mortifying to discover that fire that had taken Frank’s life along with that of his latest lover. The details surrounding the fire seemed a bit odd, but at the time, Louise was still reeling from the shock of Frank’s death.

Louise had continued to follow her daily routine, going to work and producing her illustrations. Her heart was no longer in her work though. Not only was she grieving her husband’s death, but she was also dealing with his betrayal.

Her close friends helped get her through this time and kept her distracted after work hours. Yet there were still times when Louise tried to come to terms with what had happened.

Not only that, but Louise couldn’t shake the feeling she was being watched. Maybe she truly was getting paranoid, but how to explain those weird, silent phone calls coming first at home and then at the office? They had become more frequent and Louise had wondered if she should alert the police. What would she have said about them though? Now, in retrospect, that might have been the best thing to do. At the time, Louise had not wanted to think that Frank had been up to anything else besides seeing other women. It was too much to bear.

Who knows what all Frank had been up to? Louise wasn’t at all certain that it had just been a series of illicit love affairs. One evening, Louise picked up the phone and heard a raspy male voice demanding that she find out what Frank had done with the investments. No longer could she bury her head in the sand. This call seemed to confirm what Louise had sensed. Frank had been up to something and Louise was frantic with worry.

For several weeks, all was quiet. Louise had begun to think that perhaps she had imagined the call. Then one Thursday night, she had arrived home to find her apartment in shambles. The police had questioned her at length since nothing had been taken from the apartment. The apartment was in complete disarray with papers strewn about, closets ripped apart and books lying on the floor.

As Louise talked with her friends about this latest happening, a plan had already begun to form in her mind. Perhaps what she needed was to move away to a place where she had no past and where it would be difficult to find her.

Louise eventually decided to move to Kaslo. She had spent a summer there working to put herself through school. It was a small community in a picturesque location. Various inquiries put her in touch with a Kaslo real estate agent and that’s how she landed in this perfect place in the mountains.

Had it already been three years? For the first year, Louise had drifted through the days, soaking in the beauty surrounding her and looking over her shoulder. The winters were mild, with big snowfalls. Ali loved the snow and could spend hours running around outside while Louise worked. Then he’d come inside and fall asleep in front of the hewn-stone fireplace.

Louise liked doing her illustration work from a distance. It provided a steady source of income, allowing her to spend her evenings painting innumerable canvases now stacked along the living room walls.

Louise wasn’t sure how she would feel showing the Kaslo girls her paintings. She was curious to see what it would be like. In fact she was beginning to look forward to their visit. Ali obviously enjoyed their company and knew them well.

But as she was about to start painting in the evening, Louise decided she had better close the curtains. Since her property was so secluded and surrounded by trees, Louise hadn’t given a moment’s thought to people observing her through the long stretches of window that ran along the entire front of her place. She shivered thinking about those awful final weeks in Toronto. They were hellish and she hoped that she would never have to deal with anything like that ever again.

Ali suddenly shifted and Louise’s eyes were drawn to him. She felt a sense of safety with his sturdy presence in her life. He loved the area as much as she did.

After spending most of the evening immersed in her painting, Louise and Ali were off to bed. The next day followed much the same pattern…

(to be continued)