Listen for the Singing

by Jean Little

  “‘Straining upon the start …’” That was how Rudi looked. But he could not be thinking of going to war! You had to be a man, and Rudi was still a boy.

  “Anna, your papa has asked you for the butter twice,” Mama said, reproof in her voice.

  Anna passed it. When she turned again to look at her big brother, he had his head bent and was eating quickly, as though he were ravenous.

  She had been all wrong. Whatever he had meant, she had obviously misunderstood. Perhaps she had not even heard him correctly. He had spoken very softly.

  She picked up her own fork and began to eat.

  Then the song that had been haunting her ever since she talked with Isobel came floating back.

  He must go and stand his trial.

  He has to go there by himself.

  There’s nobody else can go there for him.

  He has to stand it by himself.

  Where is the lonesome valley? she thought.

  And she was afraid.

  Chapter 9

  Anna’s first P.T. class was scheduled for Friday afternoon. On Thursday after school, she went to see Dr. Schumacher. His waiting room was so crowded that she had to stand for twenty minutes before there was a chair free. On a table were battered old copies of The Saturday Evening Post, Chatelaine, Life, Parents’, Maclean’s, and The Ladies’ Home Journal, but Anna instead opened the book she had brought with her. She always brought a book because she could not bear reading half a story and never learning how it ended. Maggie had loaned her the novel she was about to begin. It was A Girl of the Limberlost by Gene Stratton Porter.

  From the moment she read the first chapter heading, Anna’s sympathies were with the heroine, Elnora Comstock.

  WHEREIN ELNORA GOES TO HIGH SCHOOL AND LEARNS MANY LESSONS NOT FOUND IN HER BOOKS.

  She soon discovered that Elnora’s troubles were much worse than her own had been. Mrs. Comstock sounded hateful, the meanest mother Anna had met in a book.

  Elnora’s clothes were all wrong. So was her lunchbox. She had not the money she needed to buy books and pay her tuition, and she didn’t know anybody. No Gretchen helped her and no Maggie befriended her later. There seemed to be only one thing in her favour and that was her ability at math. Anna sighed but hurried on down the page.

  Then, without warning, a hand took hold of the book and pulled it down away from Anna’s face. Anna jumped and gasped. She had been so lost in the world inside the story that she had completely forgotten where she really was. The woman who still grasped the corner of A Girl of the Limberlost was a total stranger. Anna stared at her in bewilderment.

  “You don’t know me, dearie, so don’t look so taken aback,” announced this stranger. “Pearl Whittaker’s my name, Mrs. Robert J. I’m sure your mother’s told you not to talk to strangers and she’s quite right. But I just had to speak to you to keep you from ruining your eyesight!”

  Anna felt herself flushing.

  How does she know about my eyes? she thought. Mama did not tell me not to talk to strangers.

  “If you hold your book up that close, you’ll strain your eyes terribly, dear, and you’ll get headaches, if you don’t go blind. Hold it at least fourteen inches away. There. That’s about right. Look and you’ll see for yourself how much better it is.”

  Anna stared down at the page. She could not distinguish a single word. Pulling her scattered wits together, she did her best to speak up for herself, meanwhile trying to ignore the fact that everyone in the room was staring at her.

  “I can’t see that far away …” she began, angry at herself because her voice, which she tried to make firm, sounded thin and wavery. Mrs. Whittaker did not let her finish.

  “Of course you can, if you try. You’ve just got into bad reading habits. You’ve let your eyes grow lazy! Unless your glasses are too weak. I must say they look thick enough but I’ll tell Dr. Schumacher you need them checked,” she said, finally letting go of the book and settling herself more comfortably on her chair.

  Anna, cringing with mortification, ordered herself to lift the book up to where she could see and get back to Elnora but her hands refused to obey. Maybe it was because they were shaking so. She shoved them hard against her knees to still them. Then she concentrated on looking at nothing and nobody.

  When her blush had faded and she was even beginning to see that there might be a funny side to all this, once she got in to talk to Dr. Schumacher, she heard Mrs. Whittaker talking in what was supposed to be a low voice to another lady.

  “… so she phoned yesterday and asked to have her records sent to Dr. Thornfield. I said to her, ‘I know what you mean, Agnes, but even if he is German, he’s been my doctor for thirteen years and he brought Herbie into the world after I’d given up hope of ever having a boy.’”

  The other woman laughed at that.

  “He’s been here since he was a young man,” she said. “He’s Canadian now, I say. He doesn’t even have an accent and he’s married one of our girls. I do wonder though if he’d be able to join up … Blood’s thicker than water, if you know what I mean.”

  “Well, somebody has to go,” a third woman said, her voice not quite low enough for Anna to miss. “And Doctor hasn’t any children. Jim wanted to enlist, if you can imagine. I told him he’d just better not try it, leaving me to cope with his three boys!”

  “Mrs. Whittaker, the doctor will see you now,” Miss Willis said.

  Good riddance, thought Anna. She grabbed up her book, defying anyone else to challenge her.

  Until the receptionist got to her, she was able to push aside what she had heard the women saying and return to Elnora. Dr. Schumacher left her till last so she had just finished Chapter Four when her turn finally came. Things were looking decidedly brighter for Elnora so it was not too hard to close the book till later.

  “I understand you need much stronger lenses in your glasses,” Franz Schumacher said, holding the door open for her.

  He was smiling as he spoke. Letting go of her anger and embarrassment, Anna smiled too.

  “Did you know that she is not going to go to another doctor, even though you are German, because you brought Herbie into the world after she had given up hope,” she told him, taking the chair opposite his desk.

  “Poor Herbie,” Dr. Schumacher said. “I’m not sure I did him any favour. Pearl means well but she has not one ounce of perception. You must have got quite an earful out there, if they got onto us Germans.”

  Anna, who had been thinking about herself and her book, now ran over in her mind the conversation she had overheard. She had joked about it but, suddenly, she saw nothing funny in it after all. She sat very still, staring at Franz Schumacher, who had met the Soldens at the train station the night they first arrived in Toronto and who was her oldest friend in some ways. Had Agnes, whoever she was, really changed doctors because this man had been born in Berlin? What had all the rest meant? “Blood is thicker than water, if you know what I mean,” for instance.

  One of them had said Dr. Schumacher didn’t have an accent. Anna had understood that that was a point in his favour.

  But Mama had an accent. Even Papa did, though his was less noticeable.

  “Anna, don’t look so worried,” Dr. Schumacher said gently. “What does it matter what one silly woman says?”

  “There were three of them,” Anna said, her voice low.

  “Three then. Did they think I should enlist?”

  Anna thought about it.

  “They thought you should but I think they didn’t want you to because you’re their doctor,” she said. “Oh, I don’t know. I was only half-listening. I wanted to get on with my book.”

  He laughed and asked her why she had come. She explained about needing a certificate to help her escape P.T. He shook his head at that, telling her she needed to be physically fit.

  “I wouldn’t mind that part,” Anna said, “but you don’t understand what it’s like to be in a class like that when you can’t see properly. Isobel told m
e about it but it’s already happened to me enough other times, trying to play games and things, for me to know what she means. They run relay races and every time a runner comes back, she passes you a stick. When you can’t see, you mostly drop it and have trouble picking it up and then don’t run straight to the right place and you lose the race for your entire team.”

  “They must do other things though,” he said.

  “Yes. They teach you the schottische and folk dances and the teacher always says things like, ‘First you do this and then move this arm that way.’ And everybody else can see what she’s doing so you’re the only one who has no idea what she’s talking about. They play basketball and volleyball and baseball and dodge ball, and I can’t catch any ball, especially when I’m not expecting it or when it’s as small as a softball. I can catch grounders because I can hear them coming, but you don’t use grounders in a basketball game. Exercises are like the folk dancing. I can’t think of anything good about any of it.”

  “Too bad they don’t have a swimming pool at that school,” he said. “I’m certain there must be something good, Anna, but I admit that it sounds like a nightmare.”

  He rummaged in his desk for paper.

  “I’ll give you a letter to this Miss Willoughby telling her to let you yourself be the judge of what you can do. That means you have to play fair and do anything you can.”

  “I will. I promise,” Anna said.

  He handed her the envelope but, as she got up to go, he stopped her.

  “I left you till last on purpose,” he said. “Eileen phoned about something and I told her you were here. She wants me to bring you home to supper so we can hear all about school. We have something special to tell you too. Your father said you may come, so it’s all arranged. What do you say?”

  Anna was delighted.

  “Let’s go,” she said.

  They got into Franz Schumacher’s old Ford car. It had started to rain, so he drove slowly.

  “How’s your father?” he asked Anna. “I’m sure the war’s come as a shock to him.”

  “I guess so,” Anna murmured. She had not confided in anyone the grief she had seen on her father’s face last Sunday morning. By the time the others had assembled, he had regained his self-control. Anna felt it had been too private a thing to share, even with Dr. Schumacher now, although he was her father’s closest friend in Canada. Her answer did seem inadequate so she added, “He never misses a news broadcast.”

  “What do you think about it yourself?”

  She had not expected the question and had no idea how to answer.

  “It just doesn’t seem … real,” she said finally, embarrassed that she could not think of anything significant to say. Adults so seldom asked for your opinion on a serious matter. “Germany is so far away to me now,” she added. “Wars in books seem full of danger and excitement and brave deeds. But so far, nothing has been anything like that. It would be different if I lived in Poland.”

  “That is very true,” he said dryly. “But don’t feel ashamed, Anna. Many of us share your feelings. I cannot take it in either. It is unreal to me also, since I came to Canada when I was about Rudi’s age. That won’t be true for your parents though. They must have many friends and even relatives still in Germany.”

  “Not so many,” Anna said. “Friends, yes. But the only near relative is my Aunt Tania. She’s Papa’s younger sister.”

  “I’ve heard him speak of her. She’s married, isn’t she?”

  “Not now,” Anna said. “Uncle Tobias died of a heart attack about three years ago.”

  “Have you had word from her recently?”

  “Not since last spring and then it was just a note to say she was well and had work doing translations for a businessman and for us not to worry.”

  “In that case, we had better speak of something else,” Dr. Schumacher said. “We can’t help her with our talk. Has Rudi started school yet?”

  “In a few days,” Anna answered, glad to leave the topic of Aunt Tania behind. Not that she did not care about her, not that she did not remember her with love, but she felt guilty because most of the time, Aunt Tania was faraway and unreal too. It was wrong of her to think only of herself and school and the gang, but she couldn’t help it.

  “For Rudi, it must seem more real,” the man beside her said, as though he had followed her thoughts. “Rudi must wonder what the boys he knew are doing.”

  Anna had not considered that. If she were to move away from Toronto tomorrow, she would certainly remember it very clearly, especially the people. Isobel, the Schumachers themselves, Maggie, Miss Sutcliff … Was that why Rudi dreamed about Wolf and the other boy whose name she had now forgotten? Helmut, that was it.

  Dr. Schumacher parked the car and they got out and ran for the house. Before they reached the door, however, he caught her by the arm and said in a quiet but urgent voice, “Anna, don’t talk about the things we have been discussing tonight, will you? Eileen has enough on her mind. She wants to hear about school.”

  “There’s a lot I want to tell her,” Anna said, glad not to have to discuss the worrying things.

  “Be especially kind to your Papa though,” Dr. Schumacher said. “Not that you are ever anything else, I know.”

  Then Mrs. Schumacher was taking Anna’s wet coat and draping it over a chair next to the fireplace.

  “I thought we’d eat in here,” she said, “and have a fire since it’s so chilly. Tonight it’s hard to believe Tuesday was so warm and bright. Just let me bring in our plates and you can start at the beginning and tell me the whole thing. I can see already that it wasn’t nearly as bad as you thought it was going to be.”

  Anna knew she shouldn’t talk with food in her mouth but several times, she couldn’t help it. She had so much to tell and they listened with such genuine interest and enjoyment. She finally came to the end just as it was time to bring in the dessert. It was only then that she remembered Dr. Schumacher had said they had some news to tell her as well. She began to apologize, ashamed of herself.

  “Anna, don’t apologize. We wanted to hear about you first. We’ve been in suspense all week. I did talk to your mother on the phone but she couldn’t tell me all the details the way you have,” Mrs. Schumacher said, putting her hand on Anna’s. “Now, as for what we have to tell you, it shouldn’t be such a big surprise after three years. We’re expecting a baby. Sometime in April, we think.”

  Anna put down her pie fork and stared from one to the other, her face ablaze with delight.

  “A baby!” she said, as though they were the first people ever to have thought of such a thing.

  “I knew you’d be pleased,” her old teacher said, with a laugh that shared in Anna’s joy. “You’re the fourth person we’ve told. You may tell your family but we’re not going to make it known generally yet. I’ll have to let the school authorities know as I’ll be stopping teaching at Christmas. But it’s a bit early to start all the tongues wagging.”

  Anna suddenly thought of something.

  “Now they won’t be able to say you haven’t children,” she blurted, without thinking.

  Seeing their startled expressions, she longed to take the words back somehow. Since that was impossible, she had to explain.

  “Those women … when they were talking about you … enlisting … they said …” she stumbled.

  “What women?” Mrs. Schumacher demanded.

  “Oh, just some gossips in my waiting room,” Dr. Schumacher explained. “I suppose they said I shouldn’t hesitate to join up because, after all, I have no offspring, eh, Anna?”

  She nodded unhappily.

  “You’re right,” he said. “They won’t be able to say that soon. They may say though that we’re having this baby for that very reason.”

  “Franz, how can they!” his wife cried. “Why don’t you tell them the truth about yourself?”

  It was Anna’s turn not to comprehend.

  “He tried to join the Army yesterday,” Mrs.
Schumacher said, “even though we were sure about the baby by then. He thought they’d take him, because they’d need doctors, in spite of a heart murmur he has as a result of having rheumatic fever years ago. It’s nothing to worry about but they wouldn’t accept him, thank goodness.”

  “They may yet, before it’s all over,” her husband said in a low voice.

  “Oh,” Anna said. “Of course, when they find out about that, they won’t be able to say anything. Maybe even that Agnes person will come back.”

  “What Agnes person?” Mrs. Schumacher said. Even her husband looked blank, for a moment. Then he looked at Anna, with dawning comprehension.

  “A lady who has taken herself, her dizzy spells, her bunions, and her obesity to Dr. Thornfield. Long may she remain with him, poor man. I heard she’d called. I should have guessed Pearl would know all about it, too, since she and Agnes have adjoining back fences.” He laughed as he spoke, but there was not much mirth in his laughter.

  He stood up suddenly and began prowling about the room as though he was too restless to stay in one place.

  “You two don’t understand a couple of things, however,” he went on, glancing at them and then away. “First, I can’t tell my patients about my heart condition because my pride will not allow me to. Second, even if I did tell them, those who are ready to turn against me would not believe a word I said. A heart murmur isn’t obvious, you know. If I had only one leg, now, that would help. If I was wearing a hearing aid, on the other hand, it might be argued that I didn’t really need it, especially if I had acquired it within the last year or so.”

  “Franz, stop. It’s not like you to be so cynical because of one silly woman whom you don’t even like,” Eileen Schumacher said. “Come back and sit down. Anna hasn’t started on her pie and you’ve left half of yours. When I make pie, I expect it to be eaten with relish.”

  Anna laughed.

  “For the longest time, I thought that meant pickle relish,” she said. “The kind you put on hot dogs.”