How Much Is Enough?

By Jean Scott

What happens after the excitement of the wedding day? Nancy had high hopes of a bright future. Due to circumstances beyond her control she was not able to study medicine, so she put her heart into nursing. Yet when she married, her husband demanded she become just a housewife. Over the years, he became bored with her and his verbal abuse increased. As dripping water wears a stone, Nancys Christian values, perseverance and hope for change are sorely tested by her husbands behaviour. During a trip across Canada she began to compare her marriage with other marriages, and started to wonder: how much is enough?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris AU
• Release date: Oct 12, 2012
• ISBN: 9781477156025

Jean Scott

Margaret graduated as a doctor in Australia then spent many years in Asia, either as a missionary, working for aid organizations, or studying. She has travelled to several countries to understand other cultures, their history, art and religion. While overseas, access to Christian teachers was limited, so she learnt to study the Bible herself to grow in her faith, and grow closer to God.

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Copyright © 2012 by Jean Scott.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

Scripture taken from the HOLY BIBLE, NEW INTERNATIONAL VERION ®. Copyright © 1973, 1978, 1984 by International Bible Society. Used by permission of Zondervan Publishing House. All rights reserved.

The NIV and New International Version trademarks are registered in the United States Patent and Trademark Office by International Bible Society. Use of either trademark requires the permission of International Bible Society.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead or events is entirely coincidental.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-800-618-969

www.Xlibris.com.au

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Contents

Dedication

Acknowledgements

Disclaimer

Chapter 1  2011

Chapter 2  1983-84

Chapter 3  1987

Chapter 4  2011

Chapter 5  VANCOUVER, CANADA

Chapter 6  REUNION

Chapter 7  ROCKY MOUNTAINS

Chapter 8  BANFF, LAKE LOUISE, AND JASPER

Chapter 9  TRANS-CANADA

Chapter 10  THE EAST

Chapter 11  FLIGHT

Chapter 12  DECISION

Chapter 13  POSTSCRIPT

Endnotes

Dedication

To Mum, who listened, encouraged, and didn’t criticise.

Acknowledgements

I wish to thank my dear friend and mentor, Miss Joyce, who encouraged me with the preparation of this novel, provided information for the early section, and edited the manuscript. Also, I wish to thank Cameron, my travel agent, who helped me make my dream, of crossing Canada, come true.

Disclaimer

All the characters of this book are purely fictitious and do not represent any person I know.

Chapter 1

2011

Nancy hurried along the road from the taxi. She tried to avoid the dip in the bitumen as she pulled her bag behind her.

It was too late!

‘Hurry up, sausage!’ Paul called in frustration.

Her father’s term of endearment was a piercing knife from her husband’s lips.

She pushed her suitcase back, to the side of the dip, and then pulled it forward again.

She pulled in vain.

The wheel was stuck.

‘Hurry up, slow coach! The train waits only for princesses, not for the likes of you!’ Paul called out sarcastically.

He continued on, not returning to help her.

Graham looked back. He saw her difficulty, nodded to his wife, then returned to help.

He could see the tears welling up in her eyes. He smiled at her and said, ‘Here, let me help you.’

He lifted her suitcase out of the rut and started to pull it along as well as his own.

‘Thanks, Graham. I can take it now.’

He looked into her eyes, saw her determination to be independent, and submitted the handle to her. He walked slower than needed, in line with her pace.

At the doorway of Car Number 4, Graham stood back, allowing Nancy to present her ticket first.

‘You go up the stairs first,’ the conductor said to Nancy.

As she mounted the steps, holding the handle of her suitcase, he lifted the bottom of the case in line with her ascent, so the wheels landed easily on the top step of the carriage.

Graham was close behind her, helping her place her suitcase into the luggage rack section of the carriage.

As she moved inside, she glanced at the seat number on her ticket. She needn’t have bothered. She could see her husband’s head at the other end of the carriage. He was already settled in his window seat, watching the activity of the passengers as they searched for their carriages.

She sat down beside him.

He didn’t turn from his occupation.

She clutched her backpack, uncertain whether to put it in the rack above his head, where it could fall on to his head if she wasn’t careful, or under the seat.

Nancy felt crushed and compressed. It was too much—these decisions today.

Paul leant his head against the back of his seat and immediately fell asleep.

It’s now or never, Nancy thought.

She stood up without her husband noticing and walked back the way she had come into the train.

In the seat in front of him, Anne leant towards her husband. ‘Would you like the window seat?’ she asked.

‘No, it’s fine. I can lean over you if I find something interesting to photograph,’ Graham replied. ‘As long as you’re not going to sleep,’ he added.

‘Nudge me awake if I do, and we can change seats,’ she smiled.

He laughed, then turned to listen to the conductor explain the itinerary of the train to Montreal.

The whistle blew.

Anne watched as the houses thinned out and were replaced by the countryside.

Graham picked up his novel. Between paragraphs, he looked up to check if there was anything different. It was similar to that on the train journey from Toronto.

Anne turned to ask Nancy if she would like some chips.

‘Where’s Nancy?’ she asked her husband.

‘Must have gone to the ladies’ room,’ he suggested.

‘That’s a good idea.’ Anne stepped over her husband’s legs. Even though she preferred the femininity of dresses, she thought it was so much easier to travel in slacks than in a skirt.

Both toilets were vacant.

As she headed back to her seat, she noticed that Nancy still wasn’t in her seat. She returned to the passageway, thinking she might be standing in the breeze of the stable door of the carriage entrance, taking photos and enjoying the briskness of the wind caused by the rushing train as she had on the Rocky Mountaineer.

She wasn’t there either.

‘I can’t find Nancy. She’s not in the toilets.’ Anne stood in the corridor, looking down at Graham.

‘Is she taking photos from the carriage entrance? She stood there a lot on the Rocky Mountaineer trip.’

‘No, I’ve tried there.’

As Graham stood up to allow his wife back into her seat, he said, ‘I’ll try the other end of the carriage.’

She wasn’t there.

‘Her small backpack isn’t here,’ Graham said, searching the rack above them.

‘She may have taken it to the toilet. She asked me for some sanitary pads this morning. She may have wanted to change her underpants. I know she always carries a spare pair when travelling.’

‘Maybe someone moved it to make room for others,’ she added.

‘One of us has been here all the time. We would have noticed a stranger,’ Graham replied as he leant over to shake Paul awake. ‘We can’t find Nancy.’

‘She’ll turn up—always does.’

Unconcerned, Paul turned his face to the window and immediately went back to sleep.

At frequent intervals, Anne or Graham would look down the carriage. Finally, Graham walked up to the front, searching the faces as he returned, then did the same down the back. As he returned to their carriage, he noticed Nancy’s suitcase was still where he’d put it.

Half an hour out of Ottawa, Anne and Graham had become deeply concerned. They woke Paul again.

‘What?’ he asked angrily.

‘Nancy’s not here.’

‘Where is she?’

‘We don’t know. We haven’t seen her since the train pulled out of Ottawa,’ Graham said.

Initially, Paul became concerned, thinking she’d hurt herself, then he fumed for the inconvenience this caused him. Instead of seeing the sights of Montreal, he would have to go to the police station to report her missing. The further the train sped from Ottawa, the worse his temper became.

An hour and a half later, the train pulled into Montreal Station. They continued sitting, waiting for the other passengers to leave before they collected their carry-on bags from the rack above them to check that Nancy’s small backpack definitely wasn’t there.

They were the last to collect their suitcases from the luggage rack at the back of the carriage, including Nancy’s case.

They searched the faces of other passengers as they disembarked on to the platform. Not seeing Nancy among them, they headed for the station exit.

‘We should go to the police,’ Anne offered.

‘Humph! We should go to the hotel!’ Paul said. ‘Taxi!’

‘We’ll come to the police with you, Paul,’ Graham offered.

‘If you like. It’s only a formality. She’s probably at the hotel.’

A taxi pulled into the rank at the train station.

Paul and Graham helped put their luggage into the boot. Paul sat in the front seat. Graham and Anne climbed into the back with one suitcase.

‘Intercontinental.’

The taxi pulled out into the traffic and soon reached their destination—they could have walked!

Paul and Graham went to reception, while Anne searched the lobby and then went back out on to the sidewalk looking out for any taxis pulling up.

An elderly woman was arguing with the receptionist about leaving an imprint of her credit card.

‘Woman, it is standard practice,’ Paul said sternly.

Not wanting to make a scene any further, the receptionist bent the rule and completed the woman’s booking into the hotel.

‘Booking for Aitken,’ Paul demanded.

The receptionist concentrated on the screen in front of him, searching for the name.

‘You’ll be staying three nights.’

‘Maybe not. My wife is missing!’

‘I’m sorry to hear,’ commiserated the concerned receptionist.

Paul noticed Anne approach the counter. ‘Did you find her?’ he asked. ‘Obviously not,’ he answered his own question, without giving her time to do so.

‘We’ll sort it out. I suppose I should go to the police. Where is the main police station?’ he asked the receptionist. ‘Show me on the map!’ he demanded.

The receptionist pulled out the city map, circled the area of the hotel and the corner for the police station.

‘Shall I arrange a taxi for you, sir?’

‘Not just yet. I’ll go to my room first.’

Half an hour later, Paul entered the police station, Anne and Graham in tow.

‘I wish to report a missing person—my wife,’ Paul stated.

‘When did you last see this person?’ the policeman at reception asked.

‘About 7.30 a.m. this morning just before the train left Ottawa Station for Montreal.’

‘When we noticed she’d gone missing, we looked everywhere on the train,’ Graham offered.

‘Her small backpack was gone, but not her suitcase,’ Anne added.

‘Please complete this form, with the person’s name and any distinctive features to help identify her. Do you have a photo we could use in our investigation?’ asked the policeman.

‘I don’t carry a photo of my wife around everywhere I go. Why should I? She’s always there. I have the real thing, not an image,’ Paul fumed.

‘Yes, but…’ he stammered.

‘We have a digital one on our camera,’ Graham offered. ‘Would that help?’

‘Yes, I suppose so. Constable Smith, come here!’ he called out.

‘Smith, you’re the IT expert here. These people have a photo on their camera of a missing woman. Kindly print copies for us, pronto.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Constable Smith took Graham into an adjoining room. Graham offered the memory card which he slotted into the hard drive and searched for the photo. He saved it on to the computer, then printed the relevant copies required for a missing person.

Meanwhile, Anne tried to calm Paul down, but did not succeed.

‘What are you doing about my wife? She must have been kidnapped,’ Paul demanded.

‘Have you been asked for a ransom?’ the officer asked with his head cocked to the side.

‘No, but I am a prominent heart surgeon. Why else would she be missing?’ Paul glared.

‘Maybe she’s left you,’ suggested the police officer, holding back a smile.

‘Left me! Preposterous! She wouldn’t dare!’ Paul exploded in anger.

The police officer reeled back from the force of his outburst. He fast disliked this arrogant Australian. Are all Australians like this! he wondered. He then glanced towards the anxious couple accompanying this detestable man and realised that they weren’t. They seemed truly worried by the lady’s disappearance, he thought.

Chapter 2

1983-84

‘Hurry up, sausage. You’ll be late.’

‘Nearly ready,’ she called back to her father.

‘You’re beautiful enough, Nancy.’

‘Coming,’ she replied as she rounded the corner of the hall from her bedroom.

Nancy was wearing a turquoise blouse and a dark blue skirt, which made her light blue eyes sparkle like the ocean on a sunny day. Her light brown hair was tied back with a similar blue ribbon. Not considered pretty, she was certainly eye-catching due to the twinkle in her eyes and the twist of smile always running about her lips.

‘Give us a kiss!’ her father ordered with a smile, as he bent down to lift her chin and kiss her forehead. ‘My favourite girl,’ he sighed.

‘Your only girl, unless you count mother as a girl.’ Nancy smiled back.

‘I love her dearly, yet the interest is far more valued than the principal, so they say.’

‘Love you too, Dad,’ she replied, not quite understanding his meaning. Hand in hand, they left the rectory and crossed the lawn to the church hall.

Sounds of the band tuning welcomed their entrance.

Paul, the lead guitarist, was tall for his age, not considered photogenic, but the air of authority in the way he held himself commanded all eyes towards him. His dark hair hung over the scar on his forehead from the time he fell off a wall at school when fooling around with his mates.

Graham, the drummer, was still short, not having spurted yet. With unruly hair, a boyish face, and an engaging smile, one couldn’t help like him. He admired Nancy but knew he couldn’t compete with Paul, so had to settle for just being friends.

He shot a smile towards Nancy as she stepped up on to the stage and sat at the piano. She ran her fingers up and down the scales, releasing the flexibility, then sounded the notes for Paul and Graham to tune their instruments.

Anne, the lead singer, was plumpish, yet her curly blonde hair crowned a pretty face, clear of any pockmarks from the scourge of teenage years—acne. She’d battled for years to lose weight but only managed to not put any more on. She was resigned that she would always be plump like her mother. Last year, she’d started nursing at Royal North Shore Hospital and was finding it difficult to make practices, let alone the evening service on Sunday.

‘Right,’ commanded Paul, ‘let’s try the first song again. I wasn’t happy with it at practice on Thursday night.’

As they finished the first verse, Reverend Brown climbed the pulpit to deposit his Bible and sermon notes. He adjusted the microphone to his level, after the visiting pastor that morning, then went to check with the slide operator down the back that all slides were in order for the screen above the chancel steps.

His step was heavy. The remissions in his wife’s leukaemia were getting shorter despite the chemotherapy. She was weaker this weekend. He was afraid her white