Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies

by de Montigny, Suzanne;

  She repeated her words, slower this time, accompanying them with hand gestures until Lea caught a word or two, filling in the blanks. Lea gave an exaggerated nod to show she’d understood.

  “You know, you should be tryin’ to learn as much English as possible,” the woman said, leaning over to wipe a dirty nose. “You could learn by readin’ the paper. Here.” With the same hand she’d use to wipe the child’s nose, she dug into her bag and pulled out a wrinkled newspaper, tracing sentences with her finger. “Read a bit every day.” She pulled out a dictionary. “And look up the words you don’t know.”

  Lea reluctantly took the newspaper and unfolded it, careful to position her fingers in places the woman hadn’t left germs. “Thank you.” Her eyes traveled over the page, completely stumped. How foreign! How overwhelming. But as her eyes scanned the newspaper, words jumped out at her—similar to French. Community…police…government. Lea’s mind raced at the possibilities. Perhaps if she applied herself, she could have a small mastery of the language before she arrived in Regina. Wouldn’t Nap be impressed?

  When the train stopped in Liverpool, Lea disembarked, thanking the lady who led her large brood to the arms of her waiting husband, relieved to leave behind all the coughing and sneezing. Sauntering away, she searched a nearby street until she found a small book shop and entered, the bell on the door tinkling as she stepped over the threshold.

  The shopkeeper gave a welcoming smile. “Good afternoon. Anythin’ I can help you with?”

  Lea thought out her words carefully. “I want to buy dictionnaire.”

  The man’s forehead wrinkled. “A what?”

  “A dictionnaire,” she repeated, her face warming at her ineptitude.

  “Ah! You mean a dictionary?”

  Lea gave a frustrated nod. “Yes. Français et Anglais.”

  “Ah, a French/English dictionary. Right this way.” He led her to a row of books and pulled out the biggest one on the shelf.

  Lea smiled despite the hopeless feeling that threatened to devour her. She shook her head, then pointed to her suitcase. “Big voyage.”

  The man’s brow furrowed again. Then his face lit up. “Ah, you need somethin’ smaller.” He rummaged on the shelf until he found a hand-held dictionary. “Here ya go.”

  “Thank you,” Lea said, turning the book over to read the price. Her eyes rounded when she saw how expensive such a small item could be, but she decided it would be one of the best investments she’d ever make.

  Her mind made up, she strolled to the counter where she picked a few postcards to add to her purchase. She pulled out her coins, examining each one to be sure she gave him the right amount. After she’d paid, she asked, “Which way to the port?”

  “Where ya going?”

  “Canada.”

  “That’s a long way away.” He reached down and pulled out a sheet of paper and drew a map, scribbling down names of streets. “Go to dock seventeen. You’ll get the best rate there.” When he’d finished explaining the route and drawn arrows that traced it, his eyes grew solemn. “And be careful. A nice-looking girl like you could get herself in a lot of trouble.”

  Lea nodded, pretending to understand, then wandered out into the cold, biting wind, following the crude map until she found the right wharf. Showing the official her papers, she purchased her ticket and boarded the ship.

  The vessel smelled of coal and oil, and the seats were worn from the transportation of thousands of soldiers.

  “Hey, pretty lady!” a dockhand called out, initiating a volley of hoots from his peers.

  Feigning innocence, Lea stared straight ahead as though she hadn’t heard. When she found the correct hallway, she opened the door of her room to find two narrow bunk beds and a sink. The stench of bleach assaulted her nose. She wondered who she’d be sharing the room with. Laying claim to the bottom bunk, she squeezed the suitcase under the bed and wandered over to the small sink where she scrubbed her hands of the filth of Liverpool. She sat down on the bed and pulled out the newspaper and dictionary, scribbling definitions of words she found. After she’d written twenty-five, she began memorizing them until the door of her room swung open. Lea looked up to find a pretty, young woman with blond hair, carrying a battered suitcase.

  “Allô.” She smiled. “I am Marie-Ève.”

  Lea caught the inflections of her speech, her heart quickening. She answered in French. “Bonjour! You’re from France?”

  “Oui,” said the young woman. “And you? From Belgium?”

  “Oui!”

  “Oh, I’m so glad,” said Marie-Ève, placing her hand on her heart. “I was so worried I’d be roomed with a cranky, old lady who only spoke English!”

  “And who gave constant lectures about how lazy the youth of today are?” added Lea.

  Marie-Ève let out a boisterous laugh. “Oui, exactly.”

  Lea joined her, their girlish voices pitched high. When the laughter faded, she asked. “So where are you traveling to?”

  “Quebec City…to get married!” replied Marie-Ève as she dragged her suitcase in and shut the door.

  “You too? I’m going to the new province—Saskatchewan—to get married too.”

  “Oh, my goodness. To a soldier?”

  “Yes!”

  “Me too!”

  They burst into laughter again.

  “Then I guess it’s providence that we were roomed together,” said Lea. “Here, let me help you unpack. When you’re done, you can squeeze your suitcase here beside mine under the bed.”

  “All right,” said Marie-Ève.

  Lea took her bag out too. Together, they hung their clothes off the various hooks around the room, sharing funny stories as they worked. By the time they were finished, they were solid friends.

  Chapter Six

  Voyage at Sea

  With Marie-Ève in tow, Lea’s life had gained a certain degree of comfort. At least with two girls, they’d be safer from the unwanted attention of men. After locking their door behind them, they walked to the deck to watch the ship’s departure from Liverpool. Crowds of people stood below, waving to relatives, hankies fluttering in the air.

  “I wish my family were here so they could see me off,” said Lea.

  “Me too,” said Marie-Ève, a faraway look in her eyes, “…all of them.”

  Lea gave her friend a sidelong glance in time to see Marie-Ève brush a tear away, then break into a brave smile.

  “I know, why don’t we pretend we know some of these people,” said Marie-Ève. “Like that man over there with the brown hat. He looks like my Uncle Charles. And that lady over there in the flowered dress, she’s fat like my Aunt Adriane.” She began waving frantically. “Au revoir, Tante Adriane. Au revoir, Oncle Charles.”

  Lea let out a mischievous giggle. Seeing someone who resembled the town gossip, she called out, “Au revoir, Madame Gagnon. And a good riddance to you!”

  They stood back from the railing and laughed for a full minute.

  A few moments later, the boat slid away from the dock.

  “We’re off to the new world,” said Lea.

  “I know!” said Marie-Ève, pumping a hand in the air.

  They watched row houses and brick industrial buildings drift past. The clip-clopping of horses and wagons intermixed with the rumble of smoky automobiles.

  Lea stared with interest at the horseless carriages. “I wonder if we’ll be able to afford one of those in the new world.”

  “Anything’s possible in Canada,” said Marie-Ève.

  The image of her and Nap driving in such a vehicle filled her with hope.

  As the boat moved away, Lea scanned the port taking in as much as she could. She vowed to sit down and write postcards to her family later on. Then she’d mail them from Halifax. How excited they’d be to see photos of all the places she’d been.

  The city grew smaller and smaller until it faded to a pale grey line on the horizon. As they journeyed farther away, the wind picked up, blowing Lea’s hair
about. She shivered. “It’s getting cold. Let’s go inside.”

  When they arrived at their shared room, Lea pulled out the dictionary she’d bought from the bookstore in Liverpool to use as a temporary desk and began writing home. Her words slanted across the card.

  Dear Maman, Papa, brothers, and sisters,

  I have just boarded the ship to Halifax. So far, everything has gone well. There are many people who are very willing to help out a Belgian girl who has no English, especially single men hoping to get a kiss. I’ve been fortunate to avoid most of them and have made friends along the way. I am sharing a room with a French girl my age named Marie-Ève. If we stick together we should be okay.

  Lea turned the card to write in the margins.

  I miss you all and will tell you more as I near Halifax. Please send your letters to Napoleon’s address in Wide View so they can be forwarded to me.

  She signed her name in the corner of the postcard, then slipped it inside her bag to mail later.

  ***

  Supper that night was a bowl of thin clam chowder coupled with a stale piece of bread.

  Marie-Ève wrinkled her nose when it arrived. “It smells like an old pair of shoes.”

  Lea dipped her spoon in and tasted it. She grimaced. “It tastes like an old pair of shoes.”

  They giggled.

  “But we paid for it, so we have to eat it,” said Marie-Ève. “It’s not like money grows on trees.”

  “You’re right.” Lea looked into her bowl and frowned. “But what’s that slimy thing?”

  Marie-Ève peered into Lea’s soup. “I think it’s a clam.”

  “It looks like a slug.”

  They broke into another fit of giggling.

  “It can’t be much worse than eating escargots,” said Marie-Ève.

  “True. But it makes me feel like I’m eating wartime food again,” said Lea. “What did you have to eat during the war?”

  “All kinds of disgusting things.”

  “Like what?” asked Lea.

  “Pigeons.”

  “Well...” Lea waved her hand from side to side. “It’s sort of like chicken, I suppose. What else?”

  “Grass.”

  “Grass?” Lea gave her an incredulous look.

  Marie-Ève nodded. “It’s pretty good if you prepare it properly. A little like a salad. But it was the bread I missed the most. It was next to impossible to get a baguette.”

  “We had bread, but more than anything else, we ate potatoes, potatoes, and more potatoes. I got so tired of potatoes.”

  Marie-Ève laughed.

  “But how was the war for you?” asked Lea.

  Marie-Ève stopped eating, then clasped her hands together, her elbows resting on the table. “As difficult as it was for anyone, I suppose. We were always hungry. And to make matters worse, my brother André was killed at Vimy Ridge.”

  “Your brother?” Lea’s eyes moistened, glad she still had hers.

  Marie-Ève nodded. “My mother cried for weeks.”

  “I’m so sorry.”

  “Then,” said Marie-Ève, “the Spanish Influenza came. Several of the townsfolk died, including my father and another one of my brothers.” She sighed. “There were so many people who died that they weren’t able to give them a proper burial.”

  “So what did they do?”

  “They threw them into pits like common paupers and covered them with dirt.”

  “That’s dreadful.” Lea paused before taking another spoonful of the bland chowder.

  “And then there was my best friend, Solange,” continued Marie-Ève.

  “What happened to her?” Lea felt her jaw tighten, fearing what was coming.

  Marie-Ève’s voice lowered to a whisper. “She was raped by a German soldier.”

  Lea’s hand flew to her mouth.

  “She tried so hard to hide, but still he found her and then…”

  Lea closed her eyes, unsure she wanted to know the rest.

  Marie-Ève was merciful and left out the details. “She’s never stopped being frightened since then. She won’t even walk to the boulangerie to pick up the bread in the morning.”

  “Even now that the war is over?”

  Marie-Ève’s eyes met Lea’s, further words frozen in her watery tears.

  Lea was glad the Germans had never invaded Chatlineau, though they were close in neighbouring Charleroi. How terrifying to have a strange man force himself on you.

  “And how was the war for you?” asked Marie-Ève.

  Lea let out a sigh. “Many men were executed for standing up against the Germans when they first began marching across our country, creating havoc even though we declared ourselves neutral. One of my brothers wounded his hand in the battle. And we don’t know if he’ll ever be able to find a job now.”

  “Oh, no.”

  “And our next door neighbour lost all three sons.”

  Marie-Ève shook her head.

  “But I suppose some good came out of it. After all, if it wasn’t for the war, we would have never met our husbands, and we wouldn’t be going to Canada, right?” said Lea.

  “That’s true,” Marie-Ève replied. “And for that I’m grateful.”

  “So am I.” Lea smiled. Staring down at her spoon, she picked up her napkin and wiped her mouth, then dropped it into the bowl. “I can’t eat another bite of this. Shall we go back to our room?”

  Marie-Ève shoved her bowl aside. “Yes. Enough of this bucket water.”

  They let out a last high-pitched giggle as they rose and left the cafeteria.

  ***

  During the night, Lea awoke to the smattering of rain against the porthole of their room. The wind howled, and the ship tossed as it rose and fell against giant waves.

  Her stomach heaved. Tasting bile, she jumped up and emptied its contents into the small sink in the room. She fell back onto her hard mattress only to hurry a few minutes later to vomit again.

  Within minutes, Marie-Ève joined her, running water down the drain as her tasteless dinner expelled itself as well. “I don’t know if it’s the chowder or the waves that are making me sick.”

  “Yuck! Please don’t remind me of our supper,” Lea said.

  “I definitely won’t ever order that again.” Marie-Ève placed her hands over her stomach.

  “I sure hope the rest of the food isn’t that bad,” said Lea.

  Miserable, the two girls spent the next hour lying on their beds moaning.

  By three AM, Lea’s stomach had settled, and she fell into a fitful sleep, beginning an all too familiar dream.

  The sound of shells thundered in the distance, the normally green fields mired with trenches hastily built within. The smell of gunpowder fouled the air.

  “We have to find Napoleon!” Lea cried to Palma. “I know he’s been hit.”

  “You don’t know that,” Palma shouted back over the roar of the gunfire.

  “Yes, I have to find him.”

  The two girls stumbled through the battlefield where injured men lay dying. Mud spattered their clothes. “Be careful,” said Palma. “There may be unexploded bombs. Watch where you step.”

  Lea had heard of the undetonated missiles and how one wrong move could end her life. Looking ahead, she picked her route, following the arches of the craters.

  Someone groaned.

  Lea headed toward the sound, her boots sucked up by the mire. “There’s someone over here,” she called back to Palma. Finding the man, she handed him an opened bottle of water. He pushed it away, then rolled his head to one side.

  Lea gasped. Part of his skull had been blown away. But how could he still be alive?

  “Help me,” he cried, breaking into sobs. “I have a girl. She’s waiting for me back home. I can’t die.”

  “The medics are coming.” She glanced over her shoulder to be sure it was true. “Just wait, and they’ll find you.” She made as if to move away.

  He reached out with his one good arm and grabbed her. “No, pl
ease don’t leave me here.”

  “But I have to go. I need to find someone.”

  “No, please!” His sobs grew louder.

  “But my Napoleon. He may have been wounded.”

  “No!”

  “Let go of me!” she shrieked.

  “Lea! Wake up! You’re dreaming!”

  Lea opened her eyes. She glanced about, confused until she realized she was safe within her berth aboard the ship. Pushing herself up to sitting position, she pulled her sticky nighty from her chest and wiped the sweat off her brow. “I had the worst dream.”

  “I know. That’s why I woke you up.” Marie-Ève climbed down the ladder and made herself comfortable on the bed beside her friend. “Tell me about it.”

  Lea wiped her forehead once more. “It’s based on something that really happened. It was before the armistice. I hadn’t heard from Napoleon for a long time, and I was worried he’d been wounded. So Palma and I decided to go to the battlefield to find him. We went as volunteers. The smell was atrocious.” She covered her nose with her nighty as though the stench were real. “Ever smell a stomach that’s been sliced open?”

  Marie-Ève shook her head.

  “It’s hideous. We went from soldier to soldier to see who we could help. And that’s when I found a young man who was still alive, even though part of his head had been blown away. I offered him water, but he pushed my hand away, then died. I’ve never been able to get him out of my mind. I keep dreaming about him.”

  “But did you find Napoleon that day?”

  Lea smiled. “Yes, or rather, he found me.”

  “Well, then, you must have been happy to see him.”

  Lea let out a sound somewhere between a sob and a chuckle. “Yes and no. He was furious. He scolded me like a naughty child for stepping out onto a battlefield. I was ready to lash out at him because I’d been so frightened, but then he pulled me close and made me promise I’d never do anything so foolish again.”