Home Fires

by Susan Cameron

  She carried a small canvas bag holding the children’s lunch of bread, generous chunks of cheese, and some soft but still edible apples that she had found in the vegetable bin. The boys had grumbled and complained about going to school but she knew they were excited to meet other children.

  As Annie approached the school, she was surprised to see about twenty children of various ages playing in the snow. She hadn’t realized there were so many settlers in the area. When she entered the timber building, she was enveloped in the heat from the wood stove in the centre of the room. The classroom was crammed with double oak desks and the walls lined with book-shelves. A young woman sat behind a larger desk in a corner. She looked barely twenty years old and wore her hair tied back in a severe bun, likely in an attempt to look older, Annie guessed. The teacher stood up and smiled as she greeted Annie and the children. Annie introduced herself and the boys, and the young woman identified herself as Miss Brown as she shook Annie’s hand.

  “Welcome to Jackpine Junction, Mrs. Kidd. I’m sure it was a bit of a shock arriving here in the middle of winter.” Annie nodded, relieved to have her challenges acknowledged. “Our other seasons, though, can be quite pleasant. I hope you enjoy living here. Well, to register the children I’ll need their full names and birth dates for the record.”

  Miss Brown entered Bobby’s and Jack’s names in an official-looking leather bound book using a neat cursive script. But when Annie gave Georgie’s birth date, the teacher hesitated.

  “I’m sorry Mrs. Kidd, but George is not quite old enough. He can come to school next September.”

  Georgie looked stricken and tears threatened to fall. Annie took his hand in hers and said her goodbyes to Bobby and Jack. “I’ll meet you here at dismissal to make sure you can find your way back home, boys. I expect your best behaviour for Miss Brown.”

  Annie and Georgie reluctantly left the comfortable warmth of the school room and retraced their steps home. She coaxed a small smile from her unhappy son. “Well, I’m happy you’ll be home with me. I worried I might be a little lonesome with everyone out of the house. Maybe you and I could have our own little school.”

  When they arrived back at the cabin, Annie hung up their coats and told Georgie to change out of his good clothes. Her hands were white with cold and her finger tips tingled in pain. Picking up an old newspaper from the box of kindling to build up the kitchen fire, she had an idea. She smoothed the paper flat and placed it on the table. Then she found a pencil stub and told Georgie that he could read the paper while she made some pies.

  Georgie guffawed. “You know I can’t read, Mummy!”

  Annie assured him that he could read and printed an uppercase “A” and a lowercase “a” at the top of the front page.

  “This is the word “a”,” she said, “like a boy or a dog or a house. You can circle all the “a” words in the newspaper and then you’ll be reading. When you’re finished, we can count all the words that you read.”

  Georgie perked up and began his hunt for “a” words, while Annie made two apple pies. Annie watched him persevere until he found every “A” and “a” in the paper. When he said he was finished reading, Annie asked him how many words he had read.

  He guessed “eighty one hundred” and Annie smiled and reassured him, “One hundred and eighty is a good guess, Georgie. I’ll help you count, while the pies are baking in the oven.”

  They had an early lunch, and they laughed when they realized that Bobby and Jack had an extra lunch to share; Annie had forgotten to take Georgie’s lunch from the canvas bag. After they had eaten, they dressed warmly for the walk to Pierre’s home. Annie found a small sled used to carry firewood and lined it with an old blanket. She placed the neighbour’s cooking pot in it and nestled one of the pies inside. If it turned out to be too long a walk for Georgie, she could pull him too. This time she was practical when she dressed and wore her new moose-hide mitts as well as the mukluks. She wrapped a thick woollen scarf around her head and made sure that Georgie was warmly bundled up as well.

  The walk took longer than she had imagined and when they finally reached Pierre’s house, she was exhausted and frozen. She lifted the pot and pie out of the sled and knocked at the entrance of the weathered timber cabin. Annie heard someone call out something in French and the door was opened by a short, chubby woman with a small baby in her arms. Her dark curly hair was pulled up in a messy bun, and she had kind brown eyes. She ushered Annie and Georgie into the house and quickly closed the outside door.

  The house was constructed similarly to the Kidd’s cabin but was much larger. Beyond the kitchen she could see a comfortable sitting room with a floor-to-ceiling fieldstone fireplace radiating heat and ambience. Two overstuffed horsehair chairs sat on either side of the hearth. Annie was uncomfortable having arrived unannounced but was relieved to see Pierre filleting fish at the kitchen table.

  “Come in, come in, madam!” he called out. He introduced Annie to his wife, Marie, and their baby son, Louis.

  He explained that Marie only spoke French, but that she was happy to hear that another woman had moved here. “There are twelve men to every woman at Jackpine Junction,” he said, laughing.

  “I’m pleased to meet you, Marie,” said Annie. “I wanted to return your pot and I’ve made an apple pie to thank you for the wonderful meal and warm fire when we arrived.”

  She babbled nervously. Neither of her three languages could help her converse with the woman. Marie placed her baby in Pierre’s arms, and then kissed Annie on both cheeks. She moved towards Georgie, but he hid shyly behind his mother’s skirts. Marie said something in French to Pierre.

  “Marie says she ‘as never seen such light blonde hair before. She says your son looks like an angel.”

  This embarrassed Georgie; his face grew red as he clung to her skirt. Pierre explained that he had been ice-fishing, and he handed several wrapped fillets to Annie.

  “Oh, Pierre, I can’t possibly accept another gift.”

  “Madame, I ‘ave ‘ad much luck ice-fishin’ today. I caught beaucoup, beaucoup. I’m ‘appy to give you some.”

  Pierre handed Annie and Georgie mugs of an unfamiliar brew, and placed two wooden chairs close to the warmth of the kitchen stove. The tea was a welcome hot drink but it had a strong, wild odour. Annie imagined that Marie knew what plants to gather and dry for the winter. She saw Georgie’s face crinkle as he sipped his tea and she quickly gave him a look to warn him not to say anything. She told Pierre and Marie that her two older boys had started school that morning and that they needed to start walking back very soon so they could meet them at dismissal. Pierre flapped a hand and shook his head.

  “I have to take da ‘orse and sleigh to da station for a job, and can take you, eh? Warm up while I ‘itch ‘im up. I’ll come back in for you when I’m ready to leave.”

  Annie was overwhelmed by the kindness and generosity of her new neighbours. She knew that she couldn’t have a conversation with Marie, while Pierre was outside, but instead she spoke in the universal actions of all mothers by cuddling and fussing over Marie’s baby.

  That night Annie fed her family an ambrosial meal of fresh fried fish, leftover stew and apple pie. The conversation was lively as Bobby and Jack recounted their first day at their new school.

  “Miss Brown calls us Robert and John but we still like her because she doesn’t shout. We have reading and arithmetic just like at our old school back home,” Jack said excitedly.

  Georgie proudly told the family that he was learning to read too, and Annie teased her older boys about having an extra lunch to share. Bobby frowned and looked at his mother.

  “When we saw Georgie’s lunch, we decided to give it to a little girl who didn’t bring any food at all!”

  Jim shook his head and grumbled. “I’ve heard about some families around here struggling but barely surviving on their farms. The land holds riches all right, but it’s gold and silver for the wealthy big-shots to mine, not fertile soil for a man
to farm.” The children looked at him, worried. “Don’t worry boys, I have steady work and you’ll have enough to eat. Look how your mother magically provided a feast tonight. She even made pie!”

  But Annie did wonder if their lives would be a day-to-day struggle. It was wonderful to have her family together, but what if she became pregnant again? How could she bring a baby into this harsh environment? Looking down at her lap, she discreetly wiped away a tear.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Annie sat at the kitchen table browsing through the day-old edition of the Toronto newspaper. The paper lessened her feelings of isolation. It was reassuring to read the news of the world. The front page was filled with reports about the Home Rule crisis in Ireland and she was grateful that the conflict was so distant. If they were still living in South Shields, Jim might have been called up because of his previous military experience. She was selfishly happy to have him to herself and away from any wars or conflicts.

  She thought of the changes that this month of March had brought to her family. Thankfully, Jim had been hired for a permanent position at the railway. Annie was relieved to have the security of a steady income but she had another concern. She placed her hands on her abdomen and fought tears when she thought of this fifth pregnancy; she did not want to be old before her time like Jane and her own mother. Most of all, she feared that she would not survive another birth like Georgie’s. She was jolted from her melancholy mood when the outside door suddenly opened a crack. Cold air rushed in when Jim stuck his head inside.

  “Hey, Annie, put on your coat and come outside. There’s something I want to show you.”

  He closed the door quickly, before she had a chance to answer him. She didn’t really want to go out into the raw, glacial night air, but she bundled up.

  Once outside, she heard Jim call, “Over here!”

  She spotted him standing in a clearing in the yard and she plodded towards him, her head tucked down into her coat for warmth. She passed an enormous, snowy stack of newly felled logs. Jim had been clearing the walkway but his shovel now rested against the rough wood of the shed wall. Freezing polar gusts nibbled at her ears. She stopped a moment to pull up her collar and tied it in place with her blue woollen scarf. Her boots crunched in the snow. She felt ice crystals forming in her nose and the condensation of her breath formed a misty veil around her face. Bloody northern winter. She was feeling bad-tempered and only barely managed to stifle her frustrations. As she reached Jim, he wrapped his arms around her.

  “Look up,” he said.

  When she raised her eyes to the evening sky, her bad mood evaporated instantly. Shimmering pink, white and green lights danced across the night sky.

  “Oh, Jim. It’s breathtaking!” They silently watched the splendorous display of light for several minutes.

  “My parents saw these lights in Norway,” said Annie finally. “Pappa called it a herring flash, and Mother said they were reflections from the Valkyries’ armour.”

  Jim rested his chin on the top of her head as they gazed skyward. “My grandfather used to say that in Scotland they call them mirrie dancers. But Bill, my Cree friend, says that the lights are family members, who have gone to the spirit world, and they are dancing around a fire.”

  “I think that I like Bill’s version best. I’d like to believe that this is Maggie showing us she knows where we are. What a comforting thought.” She suddenly remembered the old woman’s prophesy the night before they left South Shields. She did say I would find comfort in sky lights. A shiver ran up her back.

  “I never told you about the strange old granny who came to our door the night before we left home,” she said to Jim. “Maybe she was daft. Maybe not.”

  By late April, most of the snow had melted, and song sparrows celebrated the mornings with their lively trill. That spring, Annie and Georgie started going for regular walks in the bush on their property. The light warm breeze was fresh with the scent of new growth. The forest floor was carpeted in large, waxy lily-like flowers in white and pink. Showy wild flowers were nestled in the mulch of wet leaves from the previous autumn and Annie discovered exotic orchids growing in the forest, in the moist shady layer of pine needles. Annie recognized wintergreen and tiny wild strawberry plants in the clearing behind their house. This paradise in the bush almost made up for her suffering through the long, miserable winter.

  Several robins hopped around the yard, turning their heads to listen for worms. The early May air was sweet and fresh as she staked and turned over the soil for her vegetable garden. Jim had fashioned a small spade for Georgie to dig with while Annie worked. Every once in a while she picked up an earthworm to toss over to the hungry birds. She had already ordered her seeds from a mail-order gardening catalogue; she planned to grow tomatoes and green peas as well as potatoes, carrots, onions and turnip. On impulse, she had added a package of sunflowers and one of sweet peas to her order.

  She paused to rest against the shovel to ease the pain in her back, and spotted her boys returning from school. She called out and waved. But when they ran towards her, her heart skipped a beat. Their faces were covered in swollen, red welts.

  “What on earth happened? Have you boys been fighting?”

  Bobby laughed. “No, Ma, we haven’t. Teacher says they’re blackfly bites. She said she’ll keep everyone inside for recess until we have a cooler day or some wind to blow them away.”

  “But those bites look terrible!” Annie was at a loss over what to do. Jim would know how to treat the bites but she couldn’t wait until he got back from work. She hustled the boys inside and made a poultice of oatmeal and water. She applied it to their swollen bites and hoped it would give the boys some relief. She could only imagine how large these flying insects must be to inflict such damage.

  When Jim came home from work, he said, “Well, I see you boys have been initiated. Those nasty blackflies are irritating pests, all right. Sometimes I put spruce gum or bacon fat on my skin to protect myself. Smoke keeps them away as well.”

  “I’m not going to plaster any spruce gum or bacon fat on myself, thank you!” Annie replied.

  “You won’t have to. I’ve already cut fresh spruce branches that you can light whenever you need to work outside – they create smoke. You’re awful grumpy with this pregnancy, Annie.” She threw an annoyed look his way. Jim shrugged his shoulders and said, “Blackflies are just a part of the North. There are so many fast-running streams and rivers here, it’s an ideal breeding ground for them. If it’s any consolation, they only bite during the day.”

  “Just when we’re finally able to enjoy some warm weather we’re chased inside by flying insects!” she grumbled. “What next?”

  Chapter Twenty

  The children heard Jim call from the yard, and all three boys scrambled out the door. Annie peered through the kitchen window and saw Jim holding the handle bars of a green, large-wheeled bicycle. She stepped outside to join them as Bobby practiced riding the bike and his brothers looked on enviously. Annie quietly said to Jim that the bike was wonderful – “but what about the cost?”

  “I got it for a song, and I’ve arranged a newspaper delivery for Bobby. He can pick up the papers at the railway station, then bike the few miles on the new gravel road to the lumber camp. The boy should earn some decent money.”

  Bobby soon mastered the bike and eagerly began his newspaper route the following week. Other worries nagged Annie, though. Her body was ballooning with this pregnancy. Her legs were swollen and her hips were sore. Memories of Georgie’s difficult birth haunted her as she approached the end of her term. She fretted over how she would manage with another child; the small cabin was already crowded. She felt fat and miserable and was short-tempered with the children. But most of all, she was frightened.

  Her time came on an unseasonably warm, humid August night. The cabin was stifling and Annie tossed and turned trying to get comfortable enough to sleep. In the early morning hours, she felt the familiar cramping pain. When the spasms
became more frequent, she touched Jim’s shoulder and whispered that it was time to get the doctor. It was then, when she saw the panic in his eyes, she realized he was just as worried as she was.

  After Jim threw on trousers and left the house, Annie slowly slid out of bed to wake Bobby. “The baby’s coming,” she told him. “I need you to get breakfast for your brothers, and take them outside to play.” She saw his anxious, concerned expression, and patted his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’m going to be fine. Why don’t you teach Jack to ride your bike?”

  Annie abruptly turned away as a sharp pain coursed through her. When it had subsided, she climbed back into bed. Listening to her children tiptoe around the kitchen and whisper to each other, she closed her eyes and finally fell into a light slumber.

  When she woke up, the house was quiet. A fierce pain surged through her. She decided to get out of bed to walk around. She grabbed the bed post and leaned into it as another cramp tore through her. When she could walk again, she went to the kitchen to get a cup of water and drank it thirstily.

  Glancing out the window she could see Jack trying to ride the bicycle and Georgie tossing a ball to Bobby. Another severe pain knifed through her. She leaned over the table and clung to it for support. She tried to pace around the kitchen, trying to calm herself. I’m fine. I’ve done it before. I can do this. I’ve managed the pain before. Just then, she heard a small pop. Liquid spilled over her feet and puddled on the floor. She found a rag and tried to bend over to mop up the mess but a jolt of pain made her stop in agony.

  Oh my God, Jim, where are you? I’m alone in this God-forsaken cabin! Bloody hell!

  Suddenly the door banged open and Jim and the doctor rushed in. The two men quickly and carefully carried Annie to the bed.

  The old doctor examined her. “Well, Mrs. Kidd, you’ve done a fine job all by yourself. One good push and I think this baby will arrive.” His calm Irish brogue was enormously comforting. “There’s the head. Splendid, splendid! One more push, Mrs. Kidd. There, we have a healthy little boy. He’s small; about five pounds I think.”