Return To Niagara

The glorious Falls are the backdrop for this sparkling short story by Annie Harris.

the accent,” Alex said, with another grin.

“Thank you.”

I handed my order to Chuck, the head chef, and went back into the café.

Somehow, I was not surprised to find Alex waiting by the back entrance when my long shift ended.

“Where are you staying, Maggie?”

“The hostel on Markham Street,” I told him. He nodded.

“That’s near me. Walk you back?”

Taking my arm, he shepherded me through the noisy late afternoon crowds and delivered me back to my doorstep.

****

This quickly became a daily pattern, and over those long after-work walks we learned all about each other.

“I’m what we call ItalianCanadian. My mom came over when she was a little girl, and still speaks better

Italian than English. Dad’s family came a generation before – from Rome. The families got together, and here I am!

“My home town is at the far end of Ontario, several hundred kilometres away, but I’m spending the vacation here, supposedly catching up on my studies.”

Alex’s beautiful dark eyes glittered, bewitching the girl from a small village in Worcestershire.

His father was a bricklayer but Alex, clever and ambitious, was determined to better himself. He was studying to become a doctor.

“I’m sure you’ll be a marvellous doctor,” I told him. Although he was a strong young man, he was kind and gentle.

****

I think back now to the day – on a rare whole day off, for we students were worked hard – when we went across on the ferry to Centre Island.

Strolling on the boardwalk, watching a flock of cormorants, I tripped and got a nasty splinter in one palm.

Alex spent ages easing it out, so that I barely felt it. As I watched his intent face bent over me, my heart, far more than my hand, was aching – with love.

The summer was speeding past us and in a few days I’d be flying east, leaving Toronto, leaving Alex far behind.

That final Sunday would be my birthday, and Alex’s as well, and he said he wanted to give us both a birthday surprise.

It was certainly a surprise when he arrived at my hostel at dawn riding a gleaming Harley-Davidson motorbike, which a friend had loaned him for the day.

I held on tight, my cheek against his broad back, as we roared out of the city and on to the highway which led to Niagara.

When I saw the sign overhead, my heart

Would Alex remember the promise we’d made to meet again after all these years?

seemed to somersault with anticipation.

It was still early when we arrived. Alex parked the bike, then took my hand.

“Oh, Alex!” I exclaimed. “What a wonderful surprise. Thank you.”

He looked down at me and I was astonished to see that his face was unsmiling, almost remote.

It was as though I had glimpsed private thoughts which I was not supposed to see.

We walked on in silence, rounded a bend, and there before us were the Horseshoe Falls.

I could only stand and gasp in awe.

Clouds of vapour hung over the Falls, almost hiding the torrents of water, which were bluegreen like glass, sliding over the rim to drop in a curtain of spray.

Spray battered our faces, beading in our hair, and I just stood and marvelled.

But when I glanced up at Alex, I sensed that though he, too, was staring into the Falls, he was not seeing them.

He felt my eyes on him, roused himself and smiled.

“Come on, let’s get ourselves coffees in that Tim Horton’s over there.”

I sat at a table, watching him as he queued. My heart ached with love and yet I was uneasy.

Maybe, like me, he was dreading our parting.

He set down coffees and a bag of donuts. It was a joke between us, his passion for the sweet treat, and I gave him a teasing smile, but he did not respond.

“Thank you for bringing me,” I said. “The Falls are more wonderful than I could ever have imagined.” He nodded.

“I’m glad. But when you’ve had your fill of them, I’d like to take you to Niagara On The Lake. It’s such a pretty little town, you’ll love it.”

“Oh, thank you, Alex.” Anything to postpone going back to the city and my half-filled suitcase.

“You haven’t eaten your donuts,” I said.

He looked down at the bag, grimaced, then picked it up and dropped it on the next table, where a group of high school kids were larking about.

“Here you are, guys.” We walked out to a chorus of thanks.

“That’s the first time I’ve ever known you refuse a donut!” I joked. “You must be sick or something.”

But he just shrugged. “Somehow, I didn’t seem to fancy them today.”

He’d been right about the town. It was a delightful, sleepy little place. We strolled about before having lunch in one of the quaint cafés.

I tried to keep up a stream of talk but Alex was quiet to the point of silence.

After lunch, we walked down to the edge of the water. Autumn was coming.

The leaves of the maples were changing colour; dead ones rustled round our feet, and the chill edge of the wind sent eddies across the lake.

“Summer’s over,” I said, just to break a long silence.

“Yes.” He sounded suddenly weary. “Maggie?”

“Yes?” I felt a flicker of unease.

“I love you, Maggie.”

“And I love you,” I said simply.

“But –”

I didn’t want to hear that ‘but’. I knew it was going to be bad, the worst.

“What did you say?” I said, in a daze.

“I said I love you. But I’m engaged.”

“Engaged?”

I couldn’t take in the word. He was speaking a foreign language. But he nodded.

“I’m engaged to be married. Her name is Lucia. Like me, she’s Italian born – our families have always been very close.”

I stared at him, shocked into silence, as my world shattered into fragments around me.

“Our mothers hatched the plot when we were very young.” He smiled mirthlessly. “Well, you know Italian mothers . . .”

“No, I don’t,” I said loudly. A group of women with babies in buggies looked across at us. “Do you love her?”

He shrugged.

“I thought I did. I suppose, in a way, I do. She is a lovely girl, kind, gentle. And she loves me,” he added soberly.

“But you love me!”

“I do. I’ve done very wrong.” He reached for my hand but I pulled away.

“I started out trying to make a girl who seemed a bit lonely on her own in a foreign country feel at home, and by the time I realised what was happening it was too late, and I’d fallen head over heels.”

Alex gave a faint smile. “Heaven knows, in the middle of the night, I’ve called myself every kind of villain, but . . . I just couldn’t stop seeing you. I had to be near you.”

“But all these weeks, you’ve never even mentioned Lucia – never seen her as far as I’ve been aware!”

Alex shook his head. “She’s been spending the summer in Italy, getting to know her family there.”

“So with her safely out of the way, you thought you could amuse yourself with me!” I said bitterly.

“No, it’s not like that.” He raked his fingers through his hair. “Although I can’t blame you for seeing it that way.”

“No, you can’t.”

I stared at ripples in the lake where a fish had leapt, struggling to hold myself together.

I knew already what I had to do. It was time to pick up my life, break out of that enchanted bubble where Alex and I would be together for ever.

I was going to be sensible, even while my heart was breaking.

“Thank you for bringing me,” I said formally. “But now I’d like to go back. I still have packing to do.”

He reached for my hand again and this time I let it lie, cold as ice in his grasp.

“Maggie, let’s part as – friends. Who knows, maybe we’ll meet up in years to come and realise this was just a silly dream, part of growing up.”

“Yes, of course.”

“Maybe we should do what people in stories do. You know – we’ll arrange to meet at the Falls thirty years from today.”

“Thirty years?”

“Yes, on our fiftieth birthdays.”

He looked so unhappy that my love surged back painfully and I tried desperately to lift him.

“By then you’ll have

Lucia, half a dozen big Alexes, and maybe half a dozen little Alexes – and we’ll all go for coffee at Tim Horton’s, and laugh about today.”

“And you? Who’ll be with you?”

“Oh, who knows? There’s a nice lad in my class – Colin. He seems very fond of me, and I am of him. Maybe . . .”

“I’m jealous of him,” Alex said angrily.

“Well, I’m not too fond of Lucia, either.” I forced a smile. “Alex, it’s as my gran always says, ‘Everything passes, good and bad’. But,” I went on quietly, “I’ll never forget you.”

****

When he pulled up outside my hostel we both dismounted and stood facing one another. Alex took my hands in his, so tightly that I almost cried out.

For a long moment we stared at one another, as if memorising each other’s faces. Then he spoke.

“Go now, Maggie. And don’t look back or I –” I walked away.

I heard him rev up as the door swung closed behind me.

I stood listening in the lobby until the sound died away.

****

The front door banged, jolting me back to the present.

“Hi, Mum. I’m home!”

The sitting-room door opened and Judy came in.

“What’ve you been up to?” She dropped a kiss on my head. “You’re not still sorting out books, are you? This downsizing lark is – what’s that?”

She took up the photo I’d put on the table.