Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies

by de Montigny, Suzanne;

Hope and dread stirred within her. “Maybe it’s God’s way of giving me a second chance. Perhaps these ones will survive—especially now that we have such good medical care.”

  His smile was modest. “Oh, you’re too kind. Have you thought of any names yet?”

  “I don’t know,” she replied. “Twin names can be kind of tricky. You can end up with something really bad if you’re not careful.” She paused and thought. “Like Kenny and Jenny, or Mary and Harry, or London and Paris.”

  They shared a laugh.

  “I met a family once that named their boys Saskatchewan and Manitoba,” said Dr. Lupien.

  “Oh, dear.”

  “I guess we’ll know the day they’re born, hmm?” He tilted his head, his expression grown serious. “And how are you doing otherwise?”

  Lea sighed. “About as well as can be expected. You know how things are—everyone’s dirt poor.”

  He gave an understanding nod.

  “Some people have lost nearly everything—like a friend of ours.” She recounted Claude’s story, the timbre of her voice growing husky as the telling unfolded.

  Dr. Lupien’s expression saddened at her words. “I hear many tales like that. Terrible. But keep an eye on him, okay?”

  “What do mean?” Lea asked.

  “Check on him regularly to make sure he’s all right.”

  “Why?”

  “He’ll need a great deal of support to get through this. In time, you might want to introduce him to some nice girls.”

  Lea felt uneasy at his words. “There aren’t any, though. Not with this drought. Except for those of us who are stuck here. And most of us are married with kids.”

  “You never know, though. Keep your eyes open. It’s important he doesn’t stay cooped up by himself. He needs to be around people.”

  Dr. Lupien reached over and felt her ankles. “No swelling. That’s good.” He stretched out a hand and helped her up. “I guess we’re all done. Everything looks just fine. You may dress now.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Lupien.” Her eyes momentarily dropped to the ground. “Regarding payment,” she said. “I brought some ham. Would that suffice?”

  “That’s more than enough.” He waved her concerns away. “As you said, these are hard times. So long as I can feed my family, I’m fine.”

  “You’re so generous,” she said.

  “No, not really. It’s all part of being a doctor.”

  “Somehow, I doubt that.”

  As September came to a close, Lea kept up with the news of the Dionne quintuplets to distract her mind from the drought and the usual failure of the crops. Following their story religiously gave her a temporary sense of relief and assuaged her guilt at farming out her two oldest children to their grandparents since the Dionnes seemed worse off.

  “Can you imagine?” she said with indignation as she read the paper. “The Dionnes were going to loan their babies to the Chicago World’s Fair and put them on exhibit like animals in a zoo.”

  “That’s troubling, all right,” agreed Nap, his eyes peering over the sports section.

  “But now they’ve built what they call a hospital under the care of a Dr. Dafoe. And they’re going to let tourists in to observe them from behind a screen.”

  He lowered the newspaper and frowned. “Why aren’t the parents looking after them?”

  “They’ve been deemed unfit!”

  “Unfit? Poor children,” said Nap, “to be treated like a sideshow.”

  Lea reached for the scissors and cut out the article. When she was done, she pasted it on an empty page in the scrapbook she’d been keeping for Lilian.

  Autumn passed quickly, the canning of what food they were able to save, the making of buffalo berry wine, the butchering of the pig, as well as the knitting projects that kept Lea busy. Claire, now five, had become quite the little mother, looking after her younger brother, Denis, and keeping him well-occupied. The little girl had also taken to collecting the eggs from the chicken coop in the morning, only dropping the basket once.

  When the holidays neared, Lea was only too pleased to return to Ponteix where her children surely awaited her anxiously.

  The trip was tiring, her belly large and uncomfortable, but at least the cutter moved gracefully through the snow, the normal potholes in the road smoothed out by winter storms. With two months left in her pregnancy, her clothes strained at her growing girth. She longed to be rid of the extra weight, yet she knew she’d be more exhausted than ever once the baby was born.

  Christmas changed that year in Ponteix despite the attendance of the various relatives, the music, and the usual spread of food. Nap’s brother, who lived next door, had strung electrical wires between the two houses, connecting his radio to a loudspeaker in Levi and Emma’s house. Though they celebrated the holidays with the same fervour as before, their festivities were sobered by the news that the Italian government had invaded Abyssinia under the Fascist ruler, Mussolini. Lea worried about Palma’s husband since he now traveled from Italy to Belgium with his work.

  ***

  After the holidays, her due date approaching, Lea returned once more to Ponteix, her bags packed. She took great comfort knowing Dr. Lupien would be close by when the time came for her to deliver the baby. How lucky she was to have in-laws who’d allow her to stay with them. But when what felt like a never ending journey of discomfort came to a halt, they arrived to find a notice pinned to Levi and Emma’s door.

  “Quarantine!” Lea exclaimed.

  Close behind her on the stairs, Nap frowned as he read the sign. Exchanging an uncertain look, they hesitated, then Lea knocked lightly.

  Emma answered. “Oh, so good to see you.” She pulled Lea inside by the hand while Nap followed. “I was wondering when you’d arrive.”

  “What’s happened?” Lea asked. “Why is there a quarantine?”

  “Pol and Lilian both came down with the mumps a few days ago,” said Emma, standing back a short distance. “It’s been going around the town.”

  Lea gasped, her eyes enlarging. “Are they okay?”

  “Oh, yes. They’ve got cheeks like a chipmunk, but they’re fine. Dr. Lupien checks on them regularly.”

  “Perhaps we shouldn’t stay then.” Lea looked back at Denis and Claire who still waited in the cutter.

  “Oh, don’t worry about the younger kids,” said Emma. “Pol and Lilian are locked up in their room all day. We bring them food, then dip our hands in the disinfectant that the doctor left beside their door. The little ones probably won’t catch it. And even if they did, Dr. Lupien says it’s better to catch the disease as a child rather than as an adult.”

  “But what about all of you? Are you allowed to come and go as you please?”

  “No. Only Levi has permission to go to town. We’re all stuck here until the quarantine is lifted. What about you two? Have you had the mumps already?”

  Lea exchanged a glance with Nap. He nodded. “Yes, we both have,” she said.

  “Then you should be okay. The kids will be out in a few days.”

  Lea had no choice but to stay. She couldn’t risk giving birth to her children with a midwife as they had with Claire.

  The sign remained on the door as Lilian and Pol’s symptoms changed to a hacking cough that left them gasping for breath. Terrified, Nap called for Dr. Lupien again.

  “It’s the whooping cough.” The doctor gave his diagnosis while rubbing his hands with disinfectant as he came down the stairs. “There’s a lot of it going around. I’ll go home and make up a syrup for them. It tastes awful, but it should do the trick.”

  Lea’s heart quickened each time she heard the children’s wheezing coughs and desperate attempts to catch their breath, particularly since ma tante Lumina’s little girl, Agnes, had already been claimed by the virus.

  Lea went into labour on February twenty-first. As predicted, she did indeed have twins.

  “A boy and a girl!” exclaimed Nap. “Talk about luck!”

  “I guess I got m
y second chance,” said Lea, smiling. “We lost Emma and Palma, but this time we’ll keep them alive, right?” She nodded toward Dr. Lupien.

  He nodded back.

  “But what shall we name them?” asked Nap.

  “Why don’t we ask Pol and Lilian?” Lea’s thoughts roved to the closed door upstairs in the house. “It’ll give them something to do.”

  The kids set to work on choosing names. When they presented their list to Nap, he read them aloud to the others. “Napoleon and Josephine?”

  Lea shook her head.

  “Marc Antony and Cleopatra?”

  Another vigorous shake of the head.

  “Romeo and Juliet?” Napoleon let out a guffaw. “George and Georgette?”

  Lea’s face lit up. “That’s nice. What do you think? Especially since King George recently died.”

  “Agreed.”

  ***

  It was in early July that Lea made a trip to the General Store in Val Marie with her usual list in hand, a twin on each hip, Claire and Denis close beside her. When she handed the order to Mr. Eikenberry, he set about gathering the items while the children gazed at the candy with eager eyes.

  “Hot weather, eh?” Mr. Eikenberry said.

  “Yes.”

  “I’m hoping the grasshoppers will leave us alone this year,” he said as he took down some baking soda.

  “Me too,” said Lea.

  “Maman,” said Claire. “Can you buy some licorice, please?”

  “Licorice?” she said, absently.

  “Yico-wish,” repeated Denis.

  Lea grabbed two sticks to add to the order.

  “Yeah, and hopefully we won’t be hit by dust storms either.” The grocer grabbed more items off the shelf.

  “Mm-hmm.”

  Mr. Eikenberry bagged the order. When he’d placed the last of the purchases inside, he handed the candy to the children. His forehead creased. “So, have you been having problems with rats lately?”

  “Rats?” Lea tilted her head in amusement. “I haven’t seen any rats for a long time. Gophers, maybe.”

  “Hunh!” said Mr. Eikenberry. “It’s a curious thing. Claude was here the other day. Picked up some strychnine claiming he was having a problem with rats. It was the only thing he bought. Didn’t even buy his normal groceries.”

  Lea’s eyes shot open. “Strychnine? Are you sure?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How long ago was this?”

  “A couple of days ago. Why?”

  Lea’s blood ran cold, remembering Dr. Lupien’s words of warning. She threw her money down without waiting for the change and dashed out the door. “Gotta go!”

  “Well, here, at least let me help you with your order,” said Mr. Eikenberry, hurrying after her, his arms weighed down with bags. “And what about your change?”

  “Give it to me next time,” she shouted back.

  He barely had time to throw the groceries in the back before Lea had loaded the kids and whipped the horse into a gallop. “Hold on tight,” she ordered.

  “Why are we going so fast?” asked Claire.

  “Because we’re late,” replied Lea, her voice trembling.

  “Late for what?”

  “Papa wants you home for lunch,” she lied.

  “But we just had breakfast.”

  “Never mind.”

  They raced over the dusty road, the wheels bouncing over potholes and rocks, threatening to topple them.

  “Maman, you’re going too fast!” shrieked Claire. “You might break a wheel.”

  “Just hold on tight,” she said, her heart beating wildly.

  Why couldn’t I have invited him for dinner? She chastised herself. He was probably so lonely. But no, I was too busy with the twins and couldn’t be bothered. And I didn’t want the kids to see him crying again. I had to protect them. She clucked her tongue with regret. We could have asked him to come by after church. Anything would have helped. Please, God. Make him be safe.

  When Lea saw the two hills that marked the entrance to their farm, she took a sharp turn, nearly driving the wagon off the dirt road. As they climbed the hill, she slowed until they arrived at the cabin, then jumped down, taking the babies and groceries inside the house, Claire and Denis close behind.

  “Lilian.” Her voice was shrill. “Watch the kids. I have to go somewhere.”

  “Where?” Lilian leapt up.

  “Never mind. Just watch them.”

  “But Maman!”

  Lea ran to the wagon, turned the horses around, and gave the reins a wild shake. The horses galloped the entire length to Claude’s farm, clouds of dust billowing behind them.

  All was still when she arrived at the house. A lone cow mooed from the barn and chickens pecked the ground in search of food.

  Filled with dread, Lea tied the horses, climbed the stairs, and knocked on the door, awaiting the telling sound of footsteps. When none came, she called, “Claude?” There was no answer. “Claude! Open up!” She knocked harder.

  Heart pounding, she hurried to the barn, hoping with all her might that he’d come sauntering around the corner complaining about rats.

  “Claude?” she called. The cow lowed again. Finding her way to its stall, goose bumps formed on her arms. No one’s milked her.

  Making a quick exit of the barn, she scoured the farm. Where is he? The chickens trailed after her. Could it be Claude was in the henhouse, injured? She hurried to the door of the small structure and called again. “Claude?” When there was no answer, she pulled it open. The dust inside made her sneeze, but all was quiet.

  Maybe he’s in the house.

  Lea returned to the front porch, her mouth dry and her hands trembling. She turned the doorknob. It wasn’t locked. As she pushed the door open, a horrible stench assaulted her nose. She hesitated, her blood rushing to her ears, so loud she could hear her own pulse. An intense need to flee gripped her.

  No. I need to be brave. Her legs trembled as she took tentative steps into the living room. Beer bottles littered the coffee table, and the cushions of the couch were strewn about. A vase lay smashed on the floor next to one of the pillows. Lea wandered into the kitchen. A pot of cold oatmeal sat on the stove, and beside it, an open box of strychnine. Lea’s breath came in short gulps at the implication. Where is he? Gathering up her courage, she moved to the bedroom. The bed lay empty, the quilt shifted over as though something had slid down off of it. Lea reluctantly walked to the other side of the bed, then let out a shrill scream. Claude lay dead on the floor, his head and legs arched back in an impossible position, his teeth gritted together in anguish, his eyes staring into nothingness.

  Lea’s breath came in gasps. “Oh, Claude, why did you have to do this? Oh, Claude.” She shook her head from side to side, feeling faint. She backed away, slammed the door, leapt onto the wagon, and lashed the horses into a gallop again, this time steering them straight to the RCMP detachment.

  When she arrived at the police station, she told her story through anguished sobs while the constable wrote down her words.

  Two days later, the town congregated for Claude’s funeral. Lea sat with the Gilberts, holding their limp hands, trying to be strong for them. But her actions were all a lie. Her strength had ebbed away from within her soul to nothingness.

  She turned and stared at the congregation, the white church, the surrounding prairie, the never ending skies…and felt betrayed. There was no magic here—the dead prairie that failed them year after year, that starved their livestock, that stole her babies. There was nothing. Absolutely nothing! Lea bowed her head, despair threatening to swallow her.

  As the months passed, an idea began to haunt her. At first, it was just an unwelcome thought, but it grew. She found herself throwing glances at her children and wondering how would they fare without her. Could Lilian look after the twins? Or perhaps the relatives could take them as they had Pol and Lilian. Could Nap handle his young family on his own? Surely the convent was obligated to house orphans.


  She drifted through the motions of everyday life as though nothing were real, giving dull smiles when her children sought her approval, laughing hollow laughs at Nap’s humour, feeding and changing the twins, doing the usual fruitless chores that would never amount to anything—ever. Then one agonizing day, when the coldness of winter trapped them inside, the truth came to her—it was all futile. There was no hope. Wasn’t that why Claude had taken his own life? She became more listless each day.

  “Papa,” said Lilian, drawing close to her father’s ear one day, “there’s something wrong with Maman.”

  “It’s okay,” said Nap, watching Lea with wary eyes. “But watch out for her, okay?”

  “Okay,” said Lilian, exchanging worried glances with Pol.

  One evening, in early summer, darkness triumphed over Lea’s mind like a black knight whose merciless sword had cut through her being. Rising from her chair, she shuffled to the door, and began walking. She walked to the pasture, lifted the latch, and opened the gate. Stepping through, she continued to the end of the enclosure. Then she climbed the fence and trudged on, farther and farther from the home she’d tried so hard to create, to the outlying fields, the fields she and Nap had toiled over, cleared of rocks, plowed, planted, only to watch their crops die each year. She walked to the edge of their homestead until she arrived at the Devlin’s coulee where they’d hauled water every summer in their feeble attempts at saving the wheat. By some miracle, the water was still deep.

  Lea sat for a time on the rocky shore, mesmerized by the ripples on the water, amazed that something as simple as this liquid was the cause of all their difficulties. For want of water, their crops failed. For want of water, dust storms buried their land. For want of water, they risked starvation. For want of water, her dreams had been stolen.

  Lowering herself to her knees, she braced her hands against the ground. “I’m sorry, Nap.” Then she shoved her head into the murky liquid.

  Mud and brown water clouded her vision. The water slapped above her, muted. All I have to do is take one breath—one breath, and then it’ll all be over. She closed her eyes…and breathed in.