by Nancy M Bell
She felt somehow exposed and vulnerable to have everyone aware she was receiving parcels from a young man. Even though the whole village knew she was promised to Peter Richardson, thanks to Della. Annie decided she’d stop and see how Frances and Evan were getting on, now they were married. She missed her brother around the house since he took a job guiding summer tourists and hunters in the fall. His friend Tommy Thompson got him interested in the idea and it gave him a chance to be in the bush. He still found time to help out at the farm when needed, but for whole he seemed much happier now.
“Here we are.” Mrs. Mulligan bustled out of the back room with Annie’s purchases in a sack. “Just a moment and I’ll get your mail.”
“Thanks. When you get a minute can I please get some licorice whips and four sour fruit balls? I’m going to stop by and see Frances and she’s got quite the craving for those sour balls.” Annie joined Mrs. Mulligan’s giggles.
“A woman expecting a baby does have some odd notions of what tastes good. Me, I could have eaten that whole barrel of pickles when I was carrying Jake.” She shook her head. “Here you are, and here’s your package.” Mrs. Mulligan set the mail on the counter with the sack of sundries and counted out the sweeties Annie asked for.
“Thanks. I expect Frances will have some help with the sour balls. Della has a weakness for them as well, and her not expecting at all.” Annie ran a hand over the brown paper covering the mysterious package. Little thrills ran from her fingertips to her toes with the knowledge Peter’s hands wrapped the paper and tied it with twine. It made him feel nearer and more real.
After a short but happy visit with Frances and Della Annie took her leave. Returning home, she put the cream cans in the milk house and carried the rest of the things into the kitchen. After she put the sundries away, she took the brown paper wrapped package from the counter and set it on the table. Mother must be upstairs napping; she could hear the shuffle of paper from Father’s study and the ring of the ax from outside where Ivan must be splitting wood by the wood shed.
She ran her hands over the paper, suddenly unwilling to open it. The anticipation was almost better than discovering the surprise. Whatever could Peter have hidden inside? Her fingers toyed with the twine, caressing the knots. Finally, she could stand the suspense no longer, and if she didn’t hurry someone was sure to come in and Annie dearly wanted to open the parcel on her own.
Getting to her feet, she fetched the shears from the kitchen drawer and slid the blades over the twine. It fell loose and the paper crackled softly as it relaxed. Annie hesitated and closed her eyes taking a moment to still the rapid beat of her heart. The wrapping rattled against her trembling fingers while she folded it back to reveal a box of chocolates. Chocolates? Well, it was a nice thought…Wait, didn’t the letter say to look inside carefully?
Annie picked off the cellophane wrapper and lifted the lid. Sure enough, chocolates nestled in crinkled paper in little indentations in a plastic tray. Curious, she took each one out and lined them up before her. Nothing out of the ordinary. Her arm knocked against the empty box bottom when she reached to start replacing the candy. Ivan would enjoy the treat, and she’d share with Della as well. Something rattled under the inset tray and renewed her curiosity. What on earth… She plucked the empty tray from the box and set it aside. In the bottom of the box was a small bit of tissue. Annie picked it up and unwrapped it. A small gold ring with a tiny sapphire dropped into the palm of her hand. Tears clouded her vision and her breath caught in her throat.
Laughter bubbled in her chest. How silly and how wonderful to send her engagement ring concealed in a box of chocolates. Only Peter would think of that. How she wished he were with her so they could enjoy the moment together. But in another month he would be there. Annie closed her hand over the ring and pressed it to her heart.
“Oh George,” she whispered. “I promise I’ll be good to him. I promise I’ll take care of him.” A wisp of a breeze caressed her cheek and she leaned toward the sensation. “Go gently, my love. Til we meet again.” She jumped in her chair at the sound of a door closing somewhere outside. Now who could that be? Annie put the ring in her skirt pocket and went to investigate. Her search turned up nothing and she paused in the front hall. Ivan must have left the door ajar and the wind blew it closed. That must what it was. She raised a hand to cheek.
Dipping her hand in her pocket she pulled out the ring and slid it onto the fourth finger of her left hand, turning it back and forth so the tiny gem glittered in the sunlight. Wait til Della sees this! Oh, and I suppose I must tell Father. He’ll be pleased I’ve reconciled myself to my fate. She giggled at the thought. Suddenly the idea of spending the rest of her life with Peter didn’t seem so bleak. She was fond of him after all, and she’d known him forever. He’d be changed by his experiences overseas, she supposed, but he’d still be Peter, just like Evan was still Evan.
* * *
Father and Mother were pleased with the arrival of the engagement ring. Her mother expressed the wish that it was a diamond and a wee bit bigger, but Father hushed her, much to Annie’s surprise. Father, Evan, and Ivan set to work with a vengeance felling trees and dressing them in readiness to raise the walls of the small cabin on the land across the lane. There was two and a half acres cleared at the front and an area cleared against the shoulder of the big hill at the back where the barn would go. Annie was pleased with the location of the cabin. It sat at the edge of a granite outcrop that curved smooth and pleasing in front of where the front porch would be. The cabin would be high enough to never flood in the spring rains and the stone would hold the sun’s heat.
She paced off the spot for the pig pen and chicken house, adding chicken wire to the list of supplies she was compiling in her head. The bottom row of logs for the cabin was in place now, and Evan was busy notching the next level of logs. How wonderful it would be if the place was at least livable by the time Peter arrived. On impulse, she spun around in the long grass by the barn clearing throwing her head back and laughing. It was going to be alright, it was going to wonderful to be the master of her own kitchen. Her own house, hers and her husband. She rather liked the idea of that now she was accustomed to thinking of Peter as her husband.
There was a loft planned where the children would sleep once they were old enough to manage the ladder. Children, maybe two boys and two girls? Annie hugged herself, it didn’t really matter as long as they were healthy.
By the time August slid into September the cabin walls were up and the roof almost covered with cedar shakes. Annie loved how they rattled in the wind that swooped through the spruce trees, almost like they were sharing secrets with her. The loft was in place, but no furniture up there yet. That could wait. She took a broom and swept the wide maple planks of the floor, moving the table Ivan made for her and the two chairs. Once the roof was waterproof Della had promised to come and help carry the linens and other household things over and help set up house with her.
Annie wanted everything to be in place by the time Peter arrived sometime around the 14th or 15th of September. The wedding date was set for September 30th, although Peter didn’t know that yet. Annie wrote to him after finding the ring but wasn’t sure if the letter arrived before he left as she hadn’t had word. She wasn’t overly worried he’d object to the plans, after all it seemed he was eager as she was to start their life together. Leaning on her broom she stood in the middle of the square room imagining the colourful cloth on the table and the pine bedstead covered with the feather tick she’s collected goose down for and stuffed herself, along with two pillows. She had four sets of sheets, two linen and two flannel for winter, along with a quilt made from worn out dresses and tablecloths.
She’d settled on a log cabin design rather than the double wedding ring she’d originally envisioned. The material to hand lent itself more to the former design than the latter. She smiled, no matter, there was plenty of time to make more quilts in the long winter months ahead. A small spinning wheel stood in
a corner by the bed. She would use the loom up at the big house for now, the cabin just wasn’t big enough, but once Peter was here they could think about adding on a room come spring.
Curtains hung at the window looking out onto the wide front porch with a view over the cleared fields to the lake. The pottery plates on the shelf gleamed, a present from her Finnish friends down at the cottages on the lake. They were almost more excited than she was about the wedding and were planning all kinds of foods for the wedding feast. Mother insisted on roasting a haunch of beef. She grinned at her mother’s horror of Ana’s insistence on the Finnish custom of the mother-in-law of the bride balancing a plate on her head when the couple began their first dance. When the plate fell and broke the number of pieces was supposed to foretell the number of children for the couple. Since Peter’s mother was dead, Ana volunteered to act as God-mother. Ella Baldwin blanched at the thought and had left muttering about pagan heathens. Ana laughed as the custom was neither pagan nor heathen and volunteered to stand in for Peter’s mother. Annie thought it was a lovely idea.
The names of some of the wedding dishes made her head spin until Ana and her friends explained what they contained in terms she could understand. They settled on Omenspirakka which was apple pie in English and Mustikkapiirake (blueberry pie) for desert. Main dishes were Lihapullat (meat balls), Kaalikaaryleet (cabbage rolls), Hernekeitto (pea soup), Rosollii (Beet root salad) and Perunarieska (potato flat bread). There was also Yorkshire pudding and mashed potatoes, turnips, beans and peas and carrots in keeping with Peter’s British heritage. Evan and Tommy Thompson had promised to supply venison or maybe moose depending on what crossed their path. A haunch of beef was also earmarked for the big day. Annie was glad she didn’t have to worry about the preparation of all that food on her wedding day.
There were things that could be done ahead of time which she was happy to help with, but on the big day she was excused from menial chores, thank goodness.
The days to the time of Peter’s arrival alternatively seemed to both drag and fly by. Annie was busy from before daybreak until after dusk. The barn was taking shape, the pig house and chicken house were finished and waiting for their occupants who would arrive either just before or on the wedding day. Sometimes Annie thought she’d burst with excitement and happiness. If only Peter were here already. She hoped he’d approved of everything.
Chapter Eighteen
September 15th 1919 dawned in a glory of pink, cream and golden-orange clouds. Annie hitched Elsie to the buckboard, hardly able to contain her excitement. Yesterday’s train came and went with no sign of Peter. He just had to be on today’s train, she just knew it. Leaving Elsie tied to the gatepost with a feedbag over her ears; Annie milked the cows and gathered the eggs. She paused to admire the way the first brilliant rays of the rising sun picked out the fall colours of the trees by the cabin over the lane. Her cabin, she smiled. The roof of the small building steamed slightly as the sun burned off the thin layer of frost. Jack Frost had certainly had his paint box out recently, touching the leaves with gold and red, the rich green of the conifers seeming even deeper in comparison. How could Peter not love this place?
Leaving the milk for Ivan to separate, she placed the wicker basket of eggs by the kitchen sink and hurried upstairs to tidy her hair and give her face and hands a lick and a promise. Her stomach turned over with excitement and apprehension. She let her fingers trace the contours of her face. Have I changed much since I saw him last? What if he thinks I look old, or too fat, or to thin? Oh dear, I’m at sixes and sevens. I must get a hold of myself before I see him. How much has Peter changed? What if I don’t recognize him? My stars, how embarrassing would that be?
“Quit being such a silly goose,” she told her reflection. “Don’t go borrowing trouble. Everything is going to be fine.” Annie patted her hair into place and smoothed her skirts.
She clattered down the stairs and paused long enough to poke her head into Father’s study. “I’m off to the station, Father.”
He looked up from the ledger he was working on, pen in hand. “Run along then, dear. Bring your young man in as soon as you get back, Mother will have tea and sandwiches ready so we can get better acquainted with your intended.”
Annie gaped at him. “Better acquainted? Why you’ve known Peter and his brother for years.”
“That may be true, but at the time I never imagined either of those boys would be claiming your hand in marriage. There are things that need to be said.”
She frowned. “Just see that you’re nice about it. I’m not about to change my mind at this late date.”
“Nor do I expect you to, Annabelle. Allow me my foibles, you are my youngest daughter you know, and the last daughter of this house to be married.”
“Alright. We’ll be sure to come directly back from the train. I do hope Peter is on today’s train.” She stepped out of the study door and took the front steps in a single jump. At the barn gate she removed Elsie’s feed bag and hung it on the post to take back to the barn when she returned. With a light heart she stepped up on the wheel hub and gathered the lines as she settled on the wide board seat.
“Giddup there, mare,” she chirped to the palomino and they set off down the sandy land at a jog the wagon rattling over the bumps. The drive through the early autumn woods was once Annie usually enjoyed, stopping often to admire Jack Frost’s brush strokes in spite of her impatience. The maples were beginning to blaze with orange and red, the tamarack needles tinging with yellow, scarlet branches of the osier bushes lending colour amongst the ruddy gold-green of the berry brambles crowding the sides of the road. But today there was no dallying; the cool edge of the morning wind sent a fierce wildness galloping through her. It was all Annie could do not to whoop out loud, it felt like her blood was singing some mad song thrumming through her body.
The drive took considerably less time without pausing to listen to the birds or the wind in the tall trees. When Annie pulled up at the train depot the engine hadn’t yet put in an appearance. The fall rains hadn’t come yet and the bush was dry. It was a blessing the engineer hadn’t had to sound his whistle to alert the local guides and inhabitants of a bush fire. It was the railway’s duty to sound the alert if the train passed near a bush fire, the whistle being blasted three times twice in a row.
Annie pushed her sleeve back and consulted the watch George had sent her. The mother of pearl gleamed in the sunlight. She really was early! Leaving Elsie tied to the hitching rail; the young woman gathered the skirts of her good dress and jumped down, landing in a puff of dust. Shaking her clothes into order she set off for Mulligan’s General Store. Might as well collect what mail there was, today wasn’t an Eaton’s cream day so she didn’t have to bother with hefting heavy cans. No doubt the train would bring more mail but it would take time to sort it…But maybe it might be good to take Peter to meet Della if he wasn’t too tired from his journey. Suddenly Annie was reluctant to be alone with him. Silly, she realized, but still…so much time had passed and if Evan and some of the other returning boys were anything to go by, war changed a man. Sometimes beyond recognition. Her thoughts jumped to the Bartlett boy who refused to speak to anyone and spent most of his time out in the bush, sometimes guiding silently with Tommy Thompson, or more often just off on his own. His chest was weak owing to being exposed to mustard gas more than a few times, and his face was horribly scarred by an exploding shell full of shrapnel which detonated further down the trench he was sleeping in. Annie shivered at the thought of being woken up by screams to find blood blinding you and deaf because of the ringing in your ears. The thoughts did nothing to ease her worry over Peter’s state of mind. However, he sounded like the same old Peter in his letters, she clung to that thought.
She collected the letters and Father’s newspapers along with a pound of sugar and another of loose India tea. Carry her parcels back to the buckboard she stowed them under the seat. The earth trembled under her feet and she turned to look down the track wher
e the engine would appear coming around the big curve. Sure enough the puffing of the steam engine reached her just before the shriek of the whistle split the quiet of the morning. The sound sent the station hands springing into action, readying the small platform for the few passengers in the Pullman car, in the summer there was often a gaggle of school girls headed for Fannie’s all girl camp on the far side of Doe Lake, but this late in the year passengers would be scarce.
Annie left Elsie and stepped up onto the platform, her boots echoing on the wide boards. Holding her breath she twisted her hands in her skirt, gaze fixed on the approaching Grand Trunk engine. She moved back a few steps as the train huffed to a halt with much hissing and release of steam bursts. Around her the men swarmed to bring trolleys for unloading goods and set up the small steps for the passengers to disembark. Waving a hand in front of face to disperse the smoke and steam, Annie moved toward the Pullman car. A breath of wind cleared the air and in that moment a man in a duncher cap with a knapsack slung over his shoulder stepped onto the platform. Is that him? I’m not sure. Shouldn’t I know if it’s Peter? It must be him…
The man removed the duncher and scrubbed a hand through his blonde hair before replacing the cap. Another shorter man jumped lithely out of the Pullman and surveyed the platform, legs akimbo, hat thrown back on his head.
Annie continued along the platform, jumping at the shriek of the whistle as the train prepared to move on. The boards trembled as the engine huffed and roared and began to pull out of the station. The air cleared, bird song reached her ears as the rumble of the departing train disappeared down the line. She paused, playing with the ribbons of her bonnet. The second man strode off toward the main part of the village. Annie watched him go, certain he wasn’t Peter.