New Girl in Little Cove by Damhnait Monaghan (book club suggestions TXT) 📗

I had the café to myself until midway through my second coffee, when a young family came in. After ordering, they sat at the table beside mine. Two girls, maybe six and eight, slurped hot chocolate and coloured while their parents talked in low tones about unemployment insurance and mortgage payments. As they got up to leave, the woman’s coat grazed the table, knocking a pamphlet to the floor. By the time I picked it up to return it to her, they were already out the door. It was a Mass bulletin for Holy Redeemer Catholic Church in Clayville: “Sunday service: 10 a.m.”

My prayers had been answered. Henceforth, I would follow God’s call to Clayville on Sundays, bypassing the church to worship at the café. I slipped the bulletin inside my purse. It would be prominently displayed on my car dashboard all week.

I was contemplating a third coffee when, to my surprise, Doug walked in. A swarm of butterflies took up residence beneath my sweater. Was he still mad at me?

“Whaddya at?” he said.

“Not much.”

“Can I join you?”

“Only if you let me buy you a coffee,” I said. “Peace offering.”

“Is it still peace if it’s hot chocolate?”

“Sure.” I stood up and pulled out the other chair for him.

“With marshmallows.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” I said, heading to the counter.

I returned with two hot chocolates and a selection of butter tarts, muffins and cookies. Doug’s eyes lit up. “I’m gut-foundered.”

I took a butter tart—I mean it was practically lunchtime—and handed the rest to Doug. The hot chocolate was delicious and the butter tart a perfect mix of gooey and flaky. Doug was on his second blueberry muffin before I found the right words.

“About that crazy idea I had for an English club,” I began.

“Never mind, girl,” he said, brushing crumbs from his shirt. “I was right contrary that day.”

“I don’t know about contrary,” I said, “but you were right.”

“I usually am.” There was that easy smile. Things were back to normal.

“Maybe a French club would be better,” Doug added. Then he bit into a butter tart, making appreciative noises. “How come you’re in Clayville?”

I sipped my drink. “I needed a change of scene.”

He nodded. “I guess Little Cove seems pretty small after Toronto. My sister couldn’t wait to get out of Little Cove.”

“Where did she go?”

“Boston. She used to come home every summer, but she’s got three youngsters now, so she hasn’t made it back the last few years.”

Then he grabbed another muffin and leaned back in the chair. “What’s your story?”

“The Handmaid’s Tale,” I said, holding up my book.

He ignored my flippancy. “Seriously, what brought you down this way?”

“A bunch of things,” I said. “I told you about my dad. Then I had a bad breakup and my mother went off to Australia on a sabbatical.”

Doug cocked his head. People obviously didn’t like this story about my mother. The truth is, even if Dad hadn’t made her promise, she might’ve gone. She’s very career driven. But I took the time to explain the deathbed promise to Doug.

“Anyway, I hadn’t applied for any teaching jobs because of Dad, and then I missed all the deadlines. I was really surprised to see the St. Jude’s advertisement in the newspaper.”

“Yeah,” said Doug. “Brigid’s situation was a real shock and it took them awhile to get their heads ’round what to do. And of course, a new priest was the bigger priority. Tell me about the breakup.”

Normally, I might not have, but he seemed genuinely interested, so I said that Jake and I had met at university.

“He was amazing when Dad was diagnosed with cancer. Sometimes I think Mom leaned on him as much as I did.” I looked out the window, remembering how Jake had raked leaves and later shovelled snow at our house.

After a minute, Doug said, “So, what happened?”

I looked away, biting a nail. Then the words came out in a rush. “He cheated on me. He started seeing someone else and she actually crashed a graduation party at my house looking for Jake.”

“Ouch.”

I took a sugar packet out of the bowl and began flicking it back and forth. “Yeah, it got pretty ugly.”

“So that was it?”

I threw the sugar on the table. “Pretty much.” Anger flared as I remembered Jake’s justification for the affair. “You know what he said to me later, when I asked him why?”

Doug shook his head.

Tears filled my eyes. “He said it wasn’t fun anymore. That I was too sad all the time. My goddamn father had just died.” My voice cracked on the word died. I was quiet for a minute and then I whispered, “I mean, who says things like that?”

“Jerks,” said Doug, handing me a paper serviette. “Jerks says things like that.”

After a minute, I said, “He wasn’t a total jerk, actually.”

“No,” said Doug, “or you wouldn’t have been with him. People does stupid things every day of their lives. I guess at some point we needs to forgive them.”

I decided he must be talking about me and the remedial English club. Because although I could concede that Jake wasn’t a total jerk, I hadn’t yet reached the point where I was ready to forgive him.

13

A few weeks after our girls’ night out, Lucille said, “I thought we might go over to Mardy. Johnny’s Crew is playing with Phonse and the b’ys tonight.”

I could think of no good reason not to go, but I inwardly bristled at her use of the word we. As much as I liked Lucille, I was already spending most Friday nights with her and the hookers. I didn’t want to hand over my Saturday nights too. Then again, it wasn’t as if I had any plans besides reading a library book or listening to music.

Lucille went to get dolled up. I roused myself enough to brush my teeth.

But my spirits lifted on the drive over as I thought of the jaunty music I’d soon hear. Phonse was warming up onstage when we walked