Landmark Roses

by Nancy M Bell

  She swallowed hard. Her son in law shook Ike’s hand and mounted the gelding he must have ridden over on. The man’s demeanor gave away his dejected state of mind. Ike came toward the house with slow steps.

  “I’ll be right back. See that the coffee is ready for the men, and make up some fried eggs and ham on buns.” Elsie smoothed her hair with nervous hands and went to meet her husband. Whatever it was he had to say to her, she didn’t want other ears to hear. The practical part of her acknowledged something must be wrong at the Bertsch’s. “It could be anything,” she muttered. “Maybe that old equipment of his broke down again and he was over here looking for parts. Yes, that must be it.”

  The hinges on the door squeaked when she pulled it open and met Ike on the wide porch. The fresh scent of the late September morning was full of the pungent perfume of the pots of purple petunias set along the railing. Their sharpness softened by the heady sweetness of the late roses.

  “Elsie…” Ike halted and wiped his mouth with his hand.

  “What is it? I saw Arnold out here a minute ago.” She paused and swallowed. “Did that old tractor break down again?” Elsie twisted her fingers together in the pocket of her apron, reminding herself to breath.

  “Elsie, it’s Sarah. She lost the baby. Arnold says he doesn’t know what to do. She just sits holding the crib quilt she was working on and staring. He’s scared.”

  “I’d best go over straight away.” Her hands were already untying the long apron from around her waist. “Is her malaria bothering her? I’d best get some things together.” Elsie turned back toward the house.

  “I’ll hitch the buggy for you.” Ike stepped down off the porch.

  “I’ll call Helena and ask her to send Sadie over to take care of the lunch and give those girls in there some direction.” She paused with her hand on the handle of the door and took a deep breath before straightening her shoulders and stepping inside.

  While her mind calmly went about cataloguing what she needed to gather to take with her, her emotions churned wildly. Poor Sarah, and the poor child. This was the third pregnancy that had ended in sorrow. Sarah had always been the more delicate of the girls, there was no telling how she’d react to yet another disappointment. It’s worrying she isn’t expressing any emotion, just sitting and staring. She’s got to let that pain out, it does no good to hold onto grief like that.

  Worry lent speed to her hands and in short order Elsie had gathered everything she felt would be useful. She stuffed it all into a covered basket and hurried to the door. The buggy waited at the bottom of the porch steps, Ike stood at Polly’s head. The patient mare stoop hip shot, tail lazily swishing at the odd fly.

  Elsie handed the basket to Ike who had come around to help her into the buggy. He swung the basket up onto the seat and then handed her up.

  “You call if you need anything, okay?” Ike tipped his head back to see her better.

  “Of course.” Elsie picked up the lines and chirruped to the big mare. “I don’t know when I’ll be home, but Sadie will take things in hand.”

  The buggy swayed and bumped over the uneven ground of the yard. Once she turned onto the dirt road she urged the horse to a jog ignoring the pain in her hips the jolting caused. The sky was that pure blue so particular to early autumn. On either side of the road barley and wheat fields rolled to the horizon, some shorn of their crop already and some with heavy headed stalks rippling and shining in the strong sunlight. The sweet perfume of wild roses mingled with the dry scent of the dust disturbed by the horse’s hooves. Elsie glanced at the full blown pink blooms nodding at the side of the road. Her mind on more pressing matters, she still took note of the bulbous bright red rose hips peeking out among the throng of dark green leaves of the bushes. She must remember to get the young ones to collect them. An excellent source of vitamin C, the hips also made a tasty jam.

  “Heyup, horse,” she urged the animal to a faster pace, slapping the reins on her rump. Snorting the mare hurried her pace to a trot, the buggy jouncing along behind me. Elsie held the lines in one hand and steadied herself with the other. Almost without having to be told the horse slowed marginally and turned into Sarah and Arnold’s lane. “Slow down, you,” Elsie muttered at the animal and shifted to a more secure position on the seat. Almost before the buggy halted, she dismounted from the buggy, wincing at the twinge in her knees when her feet hit the ground. One of the boys Arnold had around the place to help out took over care of the horse and buggy, Elsie tugged the basket down and hurried to the house. Bright red and white geraniums sat in pretty pots by the steps while multi-hued pansies lifted their tiny faces to the sun.

  Arnold met her at the door, the screen door opening with a creak. “She’s upstairs. I can’t get her to even look at me.” He ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking up in spikes.

  Elsie resisted the urge to tell him to straighten his collar and comb his hair back into place. “I’ll go on up and see what I can do, Arnold. Maybe have one of the girls helping in the kitchen to put the kettle on and make some tea.” She spoke as she brushed by him and ascended the stairs. The poor man looked so helpless Elsie could hardly bear to look at him. At the top of the staircase she paused on the landing, took a deep breath and pulled her shoulders back. Taking another moment to compose herself, she used the hall mirror to pat her hair back into place and brush the dust from her skirt.

  “Sarah?” Elsie rapped on the door with her knuckle before giving it a little push. It swung open smoothly without a sound and she stepped inside, setting the basket down at her feet. The woman in the chair was hunched over the material in her lap, fingers twisting the fabric into contortions. To Elsie’s consternation, her daughter’s face was dry, eyes wide and staring out the window in front of her. Sarah gave no sign she knew anyone had entered the room. “Sarah, look at me.” Elsie moved to kneel at her daughter’s side.

  The bereft woman kept her gaze fixed blindly on the brilliant rectangle of sunlight spilling in through the window where the curtains fluttered in the prairie breeze. Her fingers tightened on the tiny quilt, knuckles whitening under the pressure. Elsie covered her daughter’s fists with her hand and worked to loosen the fingers clenching the material.

  “There now, just ease up, Sarah. That’s a good girl.” She eased the crumpled quilt away and tossed it on the end of the double bed. “Are you all right? Shall I have Arnold call the doctor? Sarah!” her voice sharpened in an attempt to elicit a reaction.

  She was rewarded by an almost imperceptible shake of her daughter’s head. A scuffle of boots on bare floorboards drew Elsie’s attention to the doorway. Arnold hovered there uncertainly, anguish plain on his handsome face. She rose and crossed to speak with him.

  “Call Agnes please, Arnold.” She paused for a moment and frowned, glancing back at the unnaturally still woman in the chair. “And Doc Regehr as well. The poor child needs to be looked at and maybe something to ease the pain in her heart. Go now, man. She’ll be fine,” Elsie urged her son in law when he hesitated.

  “I’m not so sure about that, Mother Elsie. I’ve never seen her like this. It scares me.”

  “All the more reason, then, to get a move a on and make those calls. Agnes first if you please. I’m going to need help cleaning things up before the doctor arrives.”

  Arnold took one last look at the shining blonde head of his wife drooping over her clasped hands before he fled into the shadows of the landing, his boots echoing on the stairs as he descended. Elsie caught her lower lip in her teeth. I should have asked the boy to call Ike and let him know I’ll be a while. What a time for this to happen. Right in the middle of harvest. The deep timbre of Arnold’s voice rumbled from the hall below. She nodded. Good. I need Agnes to help me get Sarah tidied up and change the bed.

  Flies were beginning to buzz lazily around the tossed bed clothes. Elsie moved to the open window and lifted the sill enough to shove the expanding screen into the opening.

  “Light. The light is gone.” />
  Elsie almost missed the desolate muttering. She spun around to find Sarah’s unblinking gaze fixed on her. “What? What is it, Sarah?”

  The muscles in the long neck rippled as Sarah swallowed hard before working her jaw, as if forcing words to emerge. “The light. It’s gone.” Her arms crossed over her belly and she bent forward over them. “Gone.”

  Elsie knelt and enfolded the slight figure in her arms. “Hush now. Hush. God has His reasons for what He does. There will be more children. Once you’re healed and healthy again.” She stroked the soft corn silk hair. Sarah’s head rocked against her mother’s shoulder.

  “No, no more. I can’t do this anymore. I can’t.” Finally, sobs shook the thin shoulders, a high pitched keening rose from Sarah’s throat. “I can’t keep doing this. Hoping this time will be different. That this time the baby will be healthy, and not gone before it’s even born.”

  Elsie made soothing noises and rocked her daughter in her arms unable to make any sense of the now incoherent words punctuating the sobs.

  “Mome, what can I do?” Agnes stopped in the doorway before entering and closing the door behind her. She dropped her sweater on the straight back chair by the wall. “What happened? Is it the same old trouble?” Sympathy and shared anguish darkened her blue eyes.

  “Yes, the same trouble. I had so hoped this time would be different…” She shrugged helplessly. “She was just entering the fourth month…I prayed this wouldn’t happen again.”

  “Oh dear, poor Sarah. It’s God’s will I suppose, and He must have His reasons. But still, it’s hard.” Agnes bustled over to strip the sheets from the bed as she spoke. With the bloody wet sheets, wrapped in the chenille bedspread, bundled in her arms she moved toward the door. “I’ll be right back, I want to set these to soaking in cold water and salt. There should be fresh sheets in the linen press, I’ll bring some back.”

  “Agnes, can you bring warm water and some clothes? I’m sure Sarah will feel better once we get these dirty things off her.” Elsie lifted her head to catch her elder daughter’s gaze.

  “Of course, Mome. Be right back.” She disappeared from the doorway, heels clicking briskly on the polished floor of the landing.

  “Come now, Sarah. Let’s get that hair brushed. You’ll feel better once we get you set to rights.” Elsie picked up the brush from the dresser and gently ran it through the tangled skein of golden strands. Her busy fingers plaited the long gossamer hair into one braid and tied it off with a ribbon from the tray in easy reach on the dresser. “There now, that’s better.”

  “Here we are,” Agnes returned laden down with fresh linens for the bed balanced precariously on a basin of water. Towels, hung over her arm, swung against the skirt of her dress. She hooked the straight chair over by her sister with her foot and set the basin of water down on it. Elsie pulled two of the towels and a wash cloth from Agnes’ load and dropped the small cloth into the warm water. Agnes set the bedding on the end of the bare mattress and used a thick towel to blot the wet spot on the mattress. Thankfully, it wasn’t large, the bunched up sheets must have caught the worst of it.

  Elsie turned her attention to her younger daughter, easing the nightgown off her arms and over her head. Sarah sat like a wooden doll, stiff and unresponsive. By the time she was clean little beads of sweat were running down Elsie’s spine. “Agnes, can you please pass me a clean nightgown.”

  “Of course.” Agnes turned from her task and opened two drawers before finding the right one. She pulled out a linen night dress and handed it to her mother. “Do you need help with that?” A small frown furrowed her brow.

  “I’ll manage. Keep on with what you’re doing. The sooner we get her into bed the better.” Elsie gathered up the fabric and eased the night dress over Sarah’s head. By the time she had the garment on correctly, Agnes was just turning back the covers of the newly made bed. Tires scrunched in the front yard. “That must be Doctor Regehr. Run down and let him in please, Agnes.”

  The sound of her light steps hurrying down the stairs resurrected Elsie’s memories of her children racing and playing in the big house of their childhood.

  “Sarah, Doctor Regehr is here. You need to talk to him, tell him what happened. You can do that, can’t you?” Her hand stroked her daughter’s hair.

  “What happened?” Sarah finally focussed her gaze on her mother. “What do you mean what happened? I lost another child, another one…What have I done to deserve this?”

  “You haven’t done anything wrong, child. This isn’t your fault—”

  “How can it not be my fault?” Her voice rose in hysteria.

  “Here’s Doctor Regehr now. He can explain to you how it’s not your fault.” Elsie got gratefully to her feet and moved to stand by Agnes as the doctor came into the room.

  “Agnes, Mrs. Neufeld.” He stepped past them and stopped by Sarah. “Hello, Sarah. Let’s take a look shall we?” The doctor picked up a limp wrist to take his patient’s pulse. He glanced at the two women hovering in the doorway. “If we could have some privacy, ladies? I’ll yell if I need anything.”

  “Of course. We’ll just go down and see how Arnold is holding up,” Elsie said.

  “I could use a cup of tea,” Agnes declared.

  Reluctant to leave Sarah, Elsie hesitated in the hall even after Doctor Regehr closed the bedroom door. Agnes took her arm and led her down to the kitchen where Arnold sat at the table, head in his hands.

  “How is she?” The man made a masterful attempt to hide his red rimmed eyes.

  “As well as can be expected. Doctor Regehr is with her, he’ll set things right.” Agnes filled the kettle and set the water to boil as she spoke.

  Elsie sank into the nearest chair, her knees suddenly unsteady. She glanced at the clock on the wall. Heavens the time was moving on. Her sense of loyalty to her daughter warred with the need to be at home helping with harvest.

  “Here, Mother.” Agnes startled her from her thoughts, setting a cup of tea on the table by her hand.

  “Thanks, Agnes.” Her hand trembled a little, setting the cup chiming against the saucer.

  Arnold drank his tea in one gulp, set the cup back on the table and rubbed both hands briskly over his face. “Is there anything I can do here? I should be helping the men with the harvest. I was on my way out when…” He stood almost knocking the chair over backward as he did so.

  “I can stay with Sarah. Why don’t you go on? Might make you feel better to be busy,” Agnes said.

  “You’ll call me if Sarah needs anything?”

  Agnes nodded and began clearing the cups from the table. The scene was oddly blurred, as if Elsie looked through a narrowed lens that detached her from the reality of what she saw. A hand on her shoulder startled her and she blinked. Doctor Regehr stepped further into the kitchen.

  “Sarah will be fine in time. I’ve given her something to help her sleep. Best thing for her right now.” He washed his hands at the sink and dried them on a towel. “Someone needs to stay with her in case she wakes up. The medication makes some people confused.”

  “I’m staying,” Agnes said. “I’ll go up and sit with her.” Agnes hurried from the room.

  “Are you sure she’s all right?” Elsie turned worried eyes on the doctor. “She was acting so…strange, I guess is the best word.”

  “Shock and grief will do that sometimes. This is the third pregnancy in a little over a year that has ended like this. But she’s young and healthy, plenty of time to try again. God willing she’ll be able to carry to term.” He shrugged into his coat.

  Elsie tightened her jaw and kept her thoughts to herself. Trust a man to think that it was that easy to get over losing a child. Like falling off a horse and getting back on, a woman was expected to just carry on. Elsie was all too aware how the loss of a child left a huge hole in a woman’s heart. One that never went away. It wasn’t something that was ever discussed, or even mentioned, but she was sure she wasn’t the only one who grieved a lost child in th
e privacy of her heart.

  “Well, I’ll be off.” Doctor Regehr took his leave.

  “I’m going too. Can I catch a ride with you as far as the field at the end of the lane?” Arnold asked Elsie while he put his cap on.

  “Of course. I do need to get back and keep an eye on things.” She glanced at the stair case. “Agnes seems to have things well in hand here.”

  * * *

  Polly stopped obligingly by the edge of the field where the binder was working. Arnold hopped down and went to join the stookers setting the sheaves of bound grain into stooks. Waving Elsie clucked to the horse and continued on her way. Turning into her own lane she found the men involved in the same pursuit. She leaned her elbows on her knees and rested her chin on her hands, needing a few moments of calm to compose herself before going back to the house. It was a pretty pastoral scene, the golden grain bound and standing upright, leaning on each other. How much quicker it would be if they could afford a combine, and easier on Ike to be sure. At least they had their own binder and enough family and neighbors to not have to hire too many men for this part of the harvest.

  In the field the patient horses trudged along. A sickle knife in front of wide white denim belt of the binder and carrier platform flashed in the sunlight. The cut grain fell in a golden way onto the platform before being bound it into a sheave. The sheaves dropped onto the carrier from the belt before being dropped in rows for the stookers to set, dust danced golden in the air haloing the workers. The stooks reminded Elsie of rows of bushy tipis. They would stand and dry until they were ready for the thresher.

  A shout caught her attention as she stirred herself to carry on for home. “What on earth? Whoa, mare.” Elsie stood up to see better, shading her eyes with her hand. The men were gathering around something near the binder. She hitched the reins around the buggy brake and climbed down. Picking her way across the cut stubble as fast as she could, Elsie arrived at the binder out of breath. “Oh my goodness, what happened?” She dropped to her knees, mindless of the sharp stubble pricking her legs and the dust and chaff her skirt picked up. Hank, her second oldest son, lay senseless on his back.