by Jean Little
Jack told her not to say a word. He would make it all right. After all, he had asked her to marry him before Rufus had and he still wanted to marry her.
“I told her I was stubborn as a mule’s hind leg,” he told me, grinning.
His scar pulled his grin crooked but it was still Jack’s smile. It makes everyone smile back.
First, Jack looked for the friend who had married Rufus and Rosemary, but heard that his plane had made a crash landing and he was in hospital. Rosemary thought that meant they were jinxed but Jack would not listen to her. It took some doing but they did manage to get married. Jack was not going to be flying again. So he got permission from the very man who had refused to let Rufus do it. Jack knew he would be feeling badly for denying Rufus’s request and he would give in to Jack.
This, dear Reader, is when love’s young dream came a cropper, as Jack put it. Jack got out of hospital and Rosemary applied for the papers to come to Canada. And then she got cold feet. She decided taking on Rufus’s wife and coming baby was too much to ask of his friend.
“Then I grew angry,” Jack told me, “and said the real reason was that she could not stand having to see my ugly mug over the breakfast table every morning.”
So they quarreled and came very close to calling off their plans.
I asked what made it come right and he laughed.
“The baby,” he said. “He began to kick inside her and she got so excited that she had to let me feel how strong he was. Then …”
He broke off then and got this lovey-dovey look on his silly face and would not tell me any more about it.
I can’t write any more now. But something is still wrong because Rosemary would not let him take her straight to our house. She is sure Father and Mother will not understand how it was.
I think they are crazy, dear Reader, but we will fix it all tomorrow. I must sleep.
I can hardly wait to see this baby.
Thursday, April 18
I am worn ragged and he still has not told them. He made me swear I would not burst out with the story. He will tell me when, he says.
I asked him if he was ashamed of her.
“No,” he said. But Rosemary made him promise to keep it a secret.
It is all so stupid. They’ve been married for months and quarreling the whole time. Yet I have a funny feeling they enjoyed patching up all those spats. Do you suppose, dear Reader, this is what they mean by True Romance? I think maybe it is. If so, I am not looking forward to falling in love.
Sunday, April 21
He has not told Mother and Father, dear Reader. I cannot understand him. He is terrified that they won’t love her. Why wouldn’t they?
What on earth is wrong with her? She sounds jim-dandy to me.
Mother and Father are baffled, I can tell. Mother even asked Jack if he wanted to telephone Norah. She said she’d pay for the call. The light was poor where he was sitting and his scars made his face hard to read, but I saw it stiffen into a mask.
“She’s not expecting to hear from me,” he said. “It’s all over between us. I don’t want to talk about it.”
Mother started to say something, but I blurted out that Aunt Martha had told me that Norah has a new beau.
“Oh, three people wrote to me to tell me how faithless my girl was,” Jack said. “You’d be amazed how thoughtful people can be.”
His voice was flat but not anguished so we let that subject go.
He keeps pulling Belle onto his lap and holding her as though he could not bear to let her go. I am ashamed to feel jealous of her. It is something different than jealousy. It makes me feel more alone, I think. Belle makes him laugh.
Monday, April 22
A letter came from Rosemary to Jack. “Well, well,” said Father in a heavy voice. “It looked like a woman’s handwriting.”
“It was,” said Mother positively. “But don’t tease him, Sam. There’s more here than meets the eye.”
Surely he will tell them tomorrow. Father has borne enough.
Tuesday, April 23
Jack has nightmares. He woke me up last night twice. I listened to him for a bit but then, dear Reader, I went into his room. He was crying and I knew he would not want Mother or Father to know. I confess, dear Reader, I was frightened. It was nearly three in the morning. And in between the crying he kept swearing.
“Why couldn’t you have kept out of it?” he said, all at once. “Why did you have to be a hero? Why did you have to shoot him?”
I think he was talking to Rufus at first, but then Rufus maybe turned into Hugo. I felt like a snoop so I pulled the light cord and went over and shook him. He sat up so fast and I think he thought I was the enemy until he realized he was in pyjamas. His eyes were huge and wild. He did not know me.
“Jack, it’s me,” I said. But I had to whisper because everyone was asleep. I wanted to run for Verity, but she isn’t home.
Then Jack said, “Mother?”
I almost shrieked. I can’t explain why that was the most frightening moment. But he was staring right at me and he did not know who I was.
“It’s me. Eliza,” I said. Then I started to cry. Remember about my eye going off to the side or in toward my nose? Well, it did that and his face turned into Jack’s and he said, “Hello, Eliza. What’s up?”
So I told him, and he told me he has bad dreams, but a lot less often than he did. Then he patted the bed just the way Mother does when we have bad dreams.
So we talked and he asked me what he had said. I told him the first part and he said he dreams he is trying to make Rufus stay back, but Rufus won’t listen. He smiled then and said he was fine and I should go and get my sleep.
After I was back in bed and almost asleep, I heard him cry out again. I stayed where I was this time and waited to see what would happen. I think I was hoping Mother would go in to him. She didn’t. But he woke himself up, I guess. He put a record on the gramophone and wound it up and played it softly. It was “Love’s Old Sweet Song.” I went back to sleep listening. When I woke up next, it was early, early morning.
I feel more sympathetic with Cornelia now. Maybe I don’t quite understand her, but I see how hard it must have been having her brilliant brother come home so changed. At least Jack is still Jack, despite the scars. Maybe there are scars inside though.
It was just after five when I got up for a drink of water and heard him crying out. When I woke him, he said he was sorry to wake me again. I talked him into sneaking down to the kitchen with me and I made some cocoa.
Then he told me that Rosemary understands because she is a nurse who has seen lots of wounded soldiers. I said he should tell Mother and Father that he has a wife. He said he knows he must, but he cannot bear it if they say anything cruel about her.
“Why on earth would they? You know them better than that,” I told him. Then I said if he didn’t tell them, I would, promise or no promise. “How can you be afraid of facing your own parents?” I said. “I thought you were a hero.”
Dear Reader, he looked at me and said, “Not me, Eliza. You have me mixed up with Rufus.”
Then he cried.
You should know that Jack never cries.
I wanted to cry too and run for Mother, but stopped myself. Something told me not to baby him. I put my foot in my mouth, all the same.
“Hugo would tell them,” I said.
Jack’s face flushed scarlet and the tears vanished. Words spurted out of him like water out of the pump. “Oh, I know they’d forgive Hugo anything,” he said in a hard tight voice. “I know as well as you that their white-haired boy could do no wrong. I’m sure they wish I’d died in his place.”
Then I saw Father stopping just outside the kitchen door. He could not have chosen a worse moment. I gulped in air and plunged into speech. “Father,” I said before Jack could say something disastrous. “Jack had a bad dream. If you will sit here and help him get over it, I will go and get dressed.”
Then I ran up here, leaving them together
.
But, oh, dear Reader, how can we help him?
Saturday, April 27
This journal is growing more and more like Jane Eyre and less and less like a schoolgirl’s journal. Here comes another exciting bit.
I was looking out the window this afternoon and saw Matthew talking to Charlie. They looked agitated but then Charlie came running to get me because Matthew had a message he had to deliver in person. Matthew would not let Charlie hand it over. Here it is. A telegram!
ELIZA STOP LIZZIE AND I COMING TOMORROW STOP BRINGING GUESTS FROM ENGLAND STOP PREPARE ANNABELLE STOP LOVE AUNT MARTHA
Matthew’s eyes bored into me. I could feel my mouth drop open. It took me only a few seconds to decode it once I knew who had sent it.
“I thought it sounded private and if one of your parents caught me, they might ask questions and you might have trouble explaining,” he said, going a bit red.
I said he was absolutely right. Then he told me he had read it when it came in at the office and he was dying to know what it meant.
I am sure he is not supposed to ask questions about the telegrams he brings, but he is a really nice boy, dear Reader. I think I told you he is in my class. If the infants had not crowded around, I would have explained the message but he grinned at me in the most understanding way.
Then I was inspired. “Lizzie is a friend of Mr. Ford,” I said. “She’s a fast mover.”
“You mean —” he started. Then he laughed out loud.
“Like the Tin Man?” he said.
Get it? He meant Tin Lizzie? I nodded and ran in. Mother is out at a meeting so I am writing in here while I wait. I think I will have to wait even after she comes home because little pitchers have enormous ears in this house. I’ll get her when they are in bed.
Fifteen minutes later
Charlie just came and said Matthew was back. He had wired Aunt Martha an answer. Here’s the copy he brought me:
DEAR AUNT MARTHA STOP LOOKING FORWARD TO SEEING YOU AND YOUR PARTY STOP LOVE ELIZA
He is such a smart boy. I wonder how he got them to send it. He does get paid so I suppose he can afford it. Is that my first present from a boy, dear Reader? Perhaps. It is not the sort of present I thought I would get. Grandmother says you can only accept candy or flowers. I wonder what she would say about telegrams.
I never thought a telegram would make me laugh out loud.
Late, late, late
I told Mother the truth. I started in hinting and then she looked me straight in the eye and said, “Spit it out, Eliza. Is it something about Jack? I cannot bear the suspense.”
“He’s married,” I blurted, “and he’s afraid you won’t like her and …”
“Norah?” she whispered.
“No. Her name is Rosemary. She’s from England. She’s coming here tomorrow.”
Dear Reader, she sank down on the bed and looked very peculiar, and I meant to tell about the baby and everything but I couldn’t get out the words. Then we heard Father coming up the hall.
“How is she getting here?” Mother whispered.
I told her Aunt Martha would be bringing her tomorrow.
Father came in then and stared at us as if we were conspirators — which, of course, we are. Mother just told me to run along to bed so I did. But I doubt I will sleep a wink. Jack is out late with an old friend he ran across a day or two ago. I hope he comes home and gets a good sleep. He’s going to need it.
Have I betrayed him or helped him out? Well, both. But I’m not alone. Mother looked relieved when I said the girl was not Norah. I thought she liked her. I never would have guessed.
Sunday, April 28
We went to church, of course, and had Sunday dinner. But the minute I was excused from the table, I went outside to wait. Pretending to look at the birds and the budding trees while really watching for that Tin Lizzie. I knew they would not get here for hours. Jack tried to get me to go for a walk but I said we should stick around, because we might be having visitors.
He scowled. “Not a Duck, I hope. I was planning to break the news,” he muttered, “but I’ll take a powder if Ducks are waddling in.”
Then, thank goodness, Aunt Martha pulled up in her brand new car with Rosemary beside her holding a wrapped-up bundle.
Jack almost passed out, dear Reader. So did I, even though I expected them. Then, before he could move hand or foot, Mother swept out of the house, walked straight over to the car and said, “Welcome home, Rosemary.”
By the time I’d closed my mouth, Jack had sprung up, flown across the yard and had his arm around Mother’s shoulders. Aunt Martha had taken the bundle. Then Rosemary climbed out.
Suddenly I heard the front door open behind me and Father stuck his head out. “Annabelle, what on earth —” he started.
I ran straight to him. I knew, in a flash, that he should not be left out, as if he were not a member of the family. I know too well how changelings feel.
“Jack’s married,” I said in a great rush, “and they have a baby and Aunt Martha has brought them to meet you.”
Father looked at me for a long moment and told me to say that again, and say it slowly.
I did.
“Is the baby a boy?” he asked me. I wondered why that mattered, but I nodded my head.
“What’s his name?” he asked.
I was taken aback but I told him. “Rufus Hugh Bates. They call him Hugh.”
“Thank you, Eliza,” he said. Then he turned me around so I faced the group by the car and Charlie and Susannah and Belle were there too, springing up like jack-in-the-boxes. Everyone pushed close and we walked out to join the crowd. We made quite a mob in the street.
And, dear Reader, at long last, Jack stopped looking terrified and started looking a mixture of stunned, proud and jubilant!
Oh, dear Reader, I was crazy with relief and joy and yet I was afraid too. I understood Jack’s being nervous much better. What if somebody said the wrong thing?
“Come on into the house, for pity’s sake,” Mother said, laughing. “We’re setting tongues wagging all up and down the street.” The young ones all turned and waved.
By then Mother had the baby. I looked at Rosemary and I could tell she wanted to snatch him back but I knew she did not stand a chance.
“You help your wife, my boy,” Father said. “Your mother and I will bring the little fellow.”
He sounded too hearty, not quite like himself, but Rosemary would not notice. After that, everything was fine almost. There were a couple of strange moments. I have to think them over. But wasn’t that whole scene astonishing?
I must tell you so much more, dear Reader, but I have to sleep. Also my hand is aching.
Tuesday, April 30
I don’t know where Monday went. It seemed that everyone had to go back over everything and then do it again and again. But now it is done, I can finally tell you about Rosemary and her baby. She has brown hair, a bit reddish and glossy as a conker. She wears it down when she is just at home but twisted up on top of her head when she dresses up. Her nose is big but not too big. Her mouth is big too and it droops with weariness or sorrow until she looks at her baby. He almost always makes her smile. Her eyes are deep blue like the sky just when the first star comes out. She has one dimple. And she has a deep laugh that makes you want to laugh back. She is tall and strong and she has a British accent.
Well, it would be strange if she didn’t. Jack teases her about it sometimes. I wish he would not. She smiles but I think it makes her feel set apart.
She has a lovely singing voice so she fits right into our singing family. I heard her singing, “Sleep, my child, and peace attend thee …” last night to Baby Roo.
Belle started calling him Baby Roo. He is supposed to be Hugh but I have heard Rosemary calling him Roo herself. Maybe we’ll all stop when he gets bigger.
Belle hangs around Roo a lot. I wonder if she feels pushed out of her place as Family Baby. I don’t think so. She doesn’t get as jealous as I do.
Aunt Martha is going back to Guelph first thing in the morning. She told me it was my job to make sure Rosemary settles in happily.
“Why my job?” I asked. “Verity will be here on Friday.”
“Verity is an exemplary niece,” she said, “but she has not your imagination or your empathy.”
I have no idea what she means but I’ll be sure to look it up. I never dreamed I was better at something than Verity.
She has not met Rosemary yet, of course, or even heard of her. Knowing Jack, he is all in a dither about how they will hit it off. I personally think we dither too much. Everything seems perfect to me by now.
We are short of beds, but that will change as soon as Jack finds somewhere to take his family.
May–December 1918
Friday, May 10
Dear Reader, I have been so busy with Jack and Rosemary and Roo, that I haven’t written to you for ages. Verity and Rosemary did hit it off because they talked on and on about nursing. I suppose I could have felt left out, but it just gave me more time to be with Roo.
I never knew one could love a baby so much. He’s not that much more than a month old. He can’t walk or talk or sing or play Patty Cake. But his smile is as beautiful as a sunrise.
Our family takes up so much time, dear Reader, I have decided I must either give you a name or stop writing to you. You seem too bloodless with no name, like one of Cornelia’s paper dolls. Maybe you are Beth or Ruth. Maybe Felicity. Or Cornelia? How about Sophronia like Phronsie Pepper? I don’t know what you look like but I know you just made a face at me.
Sunday, May 12
I am sitting with the baby. I rocked him to sleep and then put him down in his bed. I was coming along the hall when I heard Jack snap, “Oh, put him down, for pity’s sake, and come for a walk. If he cries, it won’t kill him.”
My brother sounded fed up. He also sounded a bit frightening, as though he might blow up in a rage. He used to get that way when Hugo teased him past bearing. The next minute, they would be fighting with their fists and Father would pull them apart and send them outside. They couldn’t come in again until they had made peace. I never thought Jack would speak to Rosemary like that.