Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies

by de Montigny, Suzanne;

  Lea wanted to ask how they prepared headcheese and creton, but was too tired to hear anymore. Excusing herself, she waddled back to the cabin where she slept until well after the sun had risen the next day.

  ***

  Lea tossed and turned as images of injured soldiers ran through her head. Where was Napoleon? She called his name. Only a dying soldier’s moans answered her. A sharp pain stabbed her abdomen. She doubled over in agony, falling to her knees in the deep mud. Had she been shot? She pushed herself back up. It didn’t matter. She had to find her beau.

  “Napoleon!” she screamed.

  A German soldier loomed over her. “He’s dead!”

  “No!” shrieked Lea. “You’re lying.”

  “It was me who shot him…right through the eyes!”

  “Noooo!”

  She awoke with a start. Something wet trickled between her legs. An agonizing cramp gripped her stomach. Lea sat up.

  “Napoleon,” she whispered. “The baby’s coming!”

  Her husband groaned in his sleep.

  “Napoleon!”

  He rolled over and moaned.

  “Quickly, get the doctor.”

  As though her words suddenly registered, Nap leapt up. He threw on his clothes, lit the lantern, and left the house. A half hour later, he returned, followed by a young doctor.

  “Lea, this is Dr. Lupien.”

  “Pleased to meet you.” Lea eyed the man with curiosity. A handsome gentleman, he had the fine features of a nobleman. His brown hair was combed back, his eyes a pale blue. She’d heard stories about how he was the first doctor in these parts, summoned by Père Royer himself. He’d looked after the people of the town when the Spanish flu had stricken, going so far as to build them fires and cook their food. The nuns in the convent declared his heart was made of gold.

  “How are you doing?” he asked her.

  A spasm gripped her belly. “Not very well at the moment.”

  “How far apart are the contractions?”

  “I don’t know.” She let out a wail.

  He turned to Nap. “Boil some water. And we’ll need clean rags—plenty of them.”

  Napoleon left the house to fill the water pot. When he came back, he built the fire in the wood stove. Grabbing the bag full of clean rags Lea had prepared in advance, he handed them to Dr. Lupien before returning to the stove. “Darn, that snow’s taking so long to melt,” Lea heard him mutter.

  As Lea’s contractions grew closer, they became more painful. She gritted her teeth.

  “Hurry up, water!” she heard Napoleon say.

  “Here, let me examine you,” said Dr. Lupien.

  Lea complied.

  After a few minutes, the doctor raised his head. “It shouldn’t take long now. You’re fully dilated.”

  “What does that mean?” Lea asked, innocently.

  “It means you’ve opened up enough to give birth. The next time you have a contraction, I want you to push.”

  Lea waited for the gripping pain, then heaved with all her might. Sweat poured off her forehead, dampening the pillow beneath her. Then respite. A few moments later, it began again. Lea clutched the sides of the bed in agony and pushed for all she was worth.

  An hour later, a tiny cry rang out in the room.

  “It’s a girl!” said Dr. Lupien.

  “A girl?” said Lea.

  Napoleon rushed to Lea’s beside, his face twisting at the sight of all the blood. But his attention was drawn away by the tiny little baby with wet, brown hair.

  Lea watched as Napoleon lifted the child in his arms, his eyes glowing. The baby girl returned his gaze.

  “She looks like a little Emma,” he said. “We could name her after her grandmother.”

  Lea smiled. “That’s a good idea.”

  “Then Emma it is. And now that’s she’s been born, we can go to Wide View to meet the family.”

  “That would be wonderful!” said Lea. Her face contorted as another contraction gripped her.

  “Hmmm,” said Dr. Lupien. “I believe there’s another one on the way.”

  “Another one?” Napoleon’s eyes magnified.

  Lea pushed until the second child came into the world.

  “Another little girl!” said Dr. Lupien.

  “Two girls?” Tears of joy filled Lea’s eyes as the doctor cleaned the second baby, wrapping her in a blanket. “Oh, she’s beautiful too…and they’re identical!”

  “What shall we name this one?” asked Nap.

  Lea thought a moment, then said, “Let’s name her Palma after my sister.”

  “Then Palma it is,” replied Napoleon.

  Chapter Twelve

  The Dead of Winter

  “I don’t remember last winter being as cold as this.” Lea rubbed her hands over the stove as it heated up. Napoleon, as usual, had risen and built the fire. The wood crackled and emitted its familiar scent. She turned and glanced at the baby girls who still slept in the crib, swaddled tightly, wearing little hats and mittens.

  “Well it is December,” he said. “And you arrived at the beginning of March. It was a little warmer then.”

  “True.”

  Lea gazed out the window, noting a bluish hue to the overcast sky. Clouds of blue send blankets of white. She turned to Nap. “Could you please bring in lots of snow so I can wash the nappies?”

  “Certainly.” He dressed himself in layers despite the short trip to fetch snow, lacing up his boots and pulling his toque and gloves on. Bending down, he grabbed the bucket by the door and left.

  Lea despised doing the laundry. It seemed to be a never-ending task—hauling snow from outside, melting it until there was enough water, filling the washtub, scrubbing against the washboard for what seemed hours, wringing out the wet clothes, and hanging them to dry on the lines Nap had nailed crosswise into the walls of the cabin. It had been so much easier in Belgium with the faucets and the large sink in the back room. She longed for the spring when they could retrieve water from the well and hang the laundry to dry in the sun, freeing up more space inside.

  She heard Nap’s feet stomp outside before the door swung open. “Here’s the first bucket,” he said.

  Lea grabbed it, dumping its contents into the large pot on the stove. She handed it back to Nap. A few minutes later, he returned with another. After three trips, she had three pots of snow all melting at once.

  But before it could all be heated, Emma awoke, screaming from hunger. Palma soon joined her, her cries outdoing her sister’s. Lea shuffled on two feet between the stove and the girls, indecisive. How could she do everything all at once?

  “It’s okay,” said Nap. “I’ll make us breakfast while you feed the girls.”

  Giving him a grateful smile, Lea reached down, taking Emma first in one arm, then Palma in the other. She balanced their tiny heads on her chest as she made her way to the chair in the living room. After they had both latched on, she watched them feed, feeling calmer.

  Such beautiful little babies! she thought, her heart swelling with love. If only we had a camera so I could send pictures home. But she knew that was out of the question until she and Nap had saved up enough money. She gazed at their perfect heads. She never knew how deeply she could love her children, more than anyone or anything, even her Napoleon.

  Though her breakfast was late, she enjoyed the eggs and toasted bread Nap prepared for her. When she had finished eating, she poured hot water into the basin she’d used to bathe the girls, adding enough cold water until the temperature was just right. She undressed Emma, being quick to wash her and wrap her immediately afterward. She did the same for Palma, then placed them both in baskets close to the stove.

  “That should keep you warm,” she said in a sing-songy voice.

  The girls cooed, their bright eyes shining.

  Napoleon bent down and gave each baby a kiss before leaving. “I’ll be out in the barn tending to the animals. See you at lunch?”

  “Oui, mon homme.” Lea stretched her
face forward to receive his kiss.

  She waited until the door had closed, then began the unpleasant task of doing the laundry. First, she added Ivory Flakes to the girls’ bath water and stirred it up. Retrieving the basket of dirty clothes from their bedroom, she took out Nap’s shirts and threw them in, wrinkling her nose at the sour smell of the armpits. She rubbed the fabric against the washboard. When they were done, she set them aside and picked out another pile.

  “I swear these socks could stand up on their own,” she said, feeling how stiff they were. “He must have worn them for three days in a row.” She scrubbed them, then threw in his undergarments.

  After they were all clean, she began on her own clothing and then the nappies. When she opened the bucket that contained the girls’ soiled nappies, a foul odour assaulted her nose.

  She gagged. “Oh, my! How is it such cute little things like you could create such a smell?” Lugging the nappies to the basin, she scoured each one separately until they were clean.

  “Thank God that’s done,” she said, stepping outside with the washtub after everything had been rinsed. Soft snowflakes had begun drifting down from the skies. Shivering at the cold, she dumped the soiled water out, careful not to toss it all in one place, producing an accidental skating rink. “My, but that’s going to smell awful when the spring thaw comes.”

  She began the arduous task of wringing out the laundry—something that took a great deal of muscle power—then hanging it on the lines around the cabin. By the time she was done, the babies had awoken once more.

  Lea let out a sigh. “Again?” She felt their wet nappies and changed them.

  Her stomach growled. Nap would soon be home for lunch. Glancing outside to see if he was there, her pulse quickened. The snowflakes had thickened and the wind had picked up. An uneasiness welled up inside her. Wondering what she would prepare for lunch, she descended the stairs into the cellar and cut pieces of ham that she brought back up with a couple of apples. She sliced four pieces of bread off one of her loaves and proceeded to make sandwiches.

  Napoleon never made it back for lunch.

  Lea watched out the window, biting her bottom lip. “Where are you, mon homme?”

  She squinted and peered through the sheet of snow to see if she could pick out his outline, but only blinding white met her gaze. Apprehension filled her. She knew that in a blizzard, a walk from the barn to the house could result in losing one’s way and freezing to death.

  Panicked, she opened the door. Cold wind blasted her, depositing snow on the floor. She called, but no answer came.

  “Napoleon!” she shouted again, but the driving wind drowned out her voice.

  Lea shut the door and clapped her hands for warmth. “Oh, please God. Make him come home!”

  She listened for what seemed hours for the comforting thump of his boots at the door, but all she heard was the whistling wind over the soft gurgles of the girls and the snapping of the wood in the stove.

  By three o’clock, she became frantic, imagining every scenario possible.

  “I’ve got to keep myself busy or I’ll go crazy.” She hurried down to the cellar to get meat and vegetables to make supper. The chopping of the vegetables calmed her and soon a rich stew simmered on the stove.

  By nightfall, he still hadn’t returned.

  Lea waited on the couch, clutching her babies while wiping her eyes with a sleeve and whispering fervent prayers for his safe return.

  After feeding and changing the girls once more, she finally nibbled at her supper, dipping her bread in the gravy. She bundled up the girls for the night and retired to her own bed, her tears wetting the pillow.

  ***

  Emma and Palma’s cries woke her in the night. She stretched out her hand to feel the warmth of her husband, but instead, her fingers touched cold sheets. Jolting awake, she lit the lantern, rose, and gathered the babies in her arms, taking them back to the bed where she laid them down beside her, her eyes filling with tears.

  Emma and Palma suckled contentedly while she whimpered.

  “Please, God, bring my Napoleon back home safe and sound.” As the minutes passed, her cries grew more desperate. What would she do if he didn’t return? Where would she go? Would she return to Belgium? Did she even have enough money for such a trip?

  After a time, she fell asleep. When she awoke, the lingering warmth of the dying embers of the night before had given way to the freezing temperature of morning. Careful not to wake the girls, she crept to the stove and lit the fire. She cut what was left of the bread, smeared jam on it and ate it.

  “I have to eat to keep my strength up,” she said to herself.

  When the girls awoke, she fed them and changed them, using lukewarm water from the stove for their bath. They screamed in protest.

  “I know it’s cold, but it’ll be over before you know it.” She kept her promise, swaddling them and replacing them in the basket by the fire. Then she turned her attention to the world outside.

  The sun had just begun to rise to a scene of scintillating beauty. Diamonds glittered in columns of light that stretched across the glistening earth below a pale blue sky—a world transformed into a fairyland. But despite its splendour, Lea was filled with trepidation.

  “Is it possible that something so beautiful could claim a human life?” She scrutinized the landscape, terrified lest she see a lump the size of Napoleon’s body.

  She clenched her fists. I have to be strong. I’m not a child anymore! She gazed past the snow to the big house. Surely they would help her find Nap now that the storm was over. Making sure the girls were settled, she bundled up and made her way to the Gilberts. It was so cold her steaming breath froze in her hair.

  “Monsieur Gilbert!” she called as she trudged through the snow. “Please help! Mr. Gilbert!”

  The door of the house flew open revealing the older man. He squinted in the bright sun. “What’s wrong?”

  “Napoleon didn’t come back last night!” Her voice trembled.

  “Didn’t come back?”

  “No!” She sunk down to her knees despite the icy snow.

  “Hold on. I’m coming.” He threw on his coat, gloves, and toque and carefully picked his way down the slippery stairs while Madame Gilbert and Cécile watched from the window. “Where did he say he was going?”

  “To the barn like he does every morning.”

  “Then that’s where we’ll look first.”

  They plodded through the deep snow, their teeth chattering until they came to the barn door. Mr. Gilbert tried to yank it open, but ice blocked its path.

  Lea bent down and began clearing it away with her hands. Her fingers stung despite the gloves she wore. Together they dug until they forced the door open, breaking the seal that had further debilitated their efforts.

  “Napoleon, are you there?” Lea called, her voice pitched high. She held her breath as she listened.

  “Napoleon!” called Mr. Gilbert.

  Lea heard a rustle. “Over there.”

  They hurried to the horse’s stalls.

  “Napoleon?” called Lea.

  The top of the stall door flung open revealing her husband’s grinning face. “I’m right here.”

  Lea flung her arms around his neck, kissing his cold cheeks and nose. “Where have you been? I was so scared!”

  “I’m sorry,” he said, holding her tight. “I was going to come back, but I couldn’t see the cabin from here, and I didn’t want to take a chance. I had to spend the night with the mare in her stall. Look.” He stepped back and showed her the straw bed he’d made for himself. “I had to use that old horse blanket to keep warm.” He pinched his nose. “And boy, does it stink!”

  Lea laughed through her tears. “You can change your clothes when you get home. I did all the laundry yesterday.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that.”

  “Are you hungry?” she asked, taking his hand.

  “I sure am. If I’d been stuck here a day more, I’d have
had to think about eating the mare.”

  Lea laughed again. “Then come on home and I’ll make you a really good breakfast.”

  “Gladly. I can’t take another minute of this mare’s flatulence.” And with that, they walked back to the cabin arm in arm.

  ***

  Lea was humming Christmas carols as Napoleon pulled up in front of the door a week later, leading the two bay geldings attached to the sleigh. Her stomach fluttered with excitement. They were finally going to Wide View to meet the relatives.

  “Look at the chevaux,” she said to the girls. “Papa is taking us to meet your uncles and aunts for Christmas.”

  Palma let out a squeal at the hairy equine faces.

  “I’ve put the heated rocks in the front,” said Napoleon. “We can lay the girls there in their baskets and cover them up with blankets.

  “Good idea.” Lea handed him Emma first, then Palma. She took Nap’s hand as he hoisted her up to the seat and covered her with a thick quilt.

  “It’ll take us about three hours to get there in the cutter,” he said as he shook the reins.

  “Hopefully we won’t be frozen alive,” she said, amusement in her voice.

  The horses plodded through the snow, the sleigh sliding with ease through ruts already made by other farmers. Lea’s ears stung from the cold. She pulled her toque lower. The freezing wind coloured Napoleon’s cheeks to a bright red.

  “You look like Bonhomme Noël,” she said.

  “Ah, but I am Bonhomme Noël. And have I got a special gift for you.” He puckered up his lips and pulled her close.

  “Bonhomme, really! I’ll tell Bonne Femme Noël.”

  “If you do, you won’t get any presents.”

  “Oh, well. I guess I’d better be naughty then.” She allowed him to kiss her deeply, her arm encircling his waist.

  When they arrived in Wide View three hours later, they resembled icicles with their frozen hair. Nap jumped down from the sleigh and tied the horses. Lea handed him one baby at a time. When she lowered herself down beside them, she took one of the girls and together, they strode to the door.