Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies Read online

  Napoleon tried to cheer her up with warm embraces and thoughtful gestures. Each day she met his actions with silence, as though he were a ghost, a mirage of something that had once been. She caught the occasional worried glance he cast before leaving when morning’s light called him to work and heard the soft mutterings of anxious conversations with Mr. Gilbert.

  When a month had passed, Napoleon, his face contorted in anguish, confronted her, standing tall and formidable like the soldier he’d once been. “Madame Gilbert wants you to come for tea. She says it’s been a while since you’ve visited her and Cécile.”

  Lea gave a blank nod.

  “Apparently, this is the time of year to be making clothes. She says she’s bought new fabric you might be interested in.”

  Her ears perked up at the mention of the fabric. For a moment, her eyes met his. “What time?”

  “After lunch.”

  “All right, then I’ll be there.”

  “And could you please do some laundry this morning? I’m out of shirts. This one smells so bad I’m sure there’s a green cloud following me along.”

  A stray, lifeless giggle escaped Lea. “Whatever you want.”

  Napoleon hauled in the snow and melted it for her on the stove.

  After he left, she proceeded to do the laundry, mechanically scrubbing it as she usually did, but when she hung it all to dry, the missing nappies filled her with emptiness again.

  The women welcomed her graciously, placing warm arms about her when she knocked on the door of the main house that afternoon.

  “Wait until you see the fabric I ordered at the general store,” said Madame Gilbert, her voice overly-animated as she unrolled a length of floral print. “See how pretty it is?”

  “Yes, it is.” Lea gave a dull smile.

  “I said we should all make matching dresses!” Cécile laughed.

  “And show up for Easter mass like triplets,” added Madame Gilbert.

  A slightly amused curve formed on Lea’s lips. “But I left my patterns back in Belgium.”

  “Well, you won’t need them here. We make our own…from scratch.”

  “Really?” Lea arched an interested brow.

  “Yes. You see, the fashion nowadays is straight dresses, as you know. So all we need to do is measure your hips, bust, shoulders, and length, then add a bit to each side to make the seams. Like this.”

  Lea watched as Cécile took Madame Gilbert’s measurements and then transferred the numbers to the fabric, drawing lines with a pencil and ruler. After cutting out the forms, they set about doing the same for Cécile.

  “I’m going to add a few more inches to this one.” Madame Gilbert patted her daughter’s stomach. “Just in case.”

  “Oh, Maman.” Resentment creased Cécile’s forehead. “Do you always have to be going on about having grandchildren?”

  “Well, you can’t hold it against me now, can you? They say being a grandparent is one of life’s most precious experiences. If only your husband would stay home from time to time.”

  Cécile let out an impatient huff. “Maman.”

  Madame Gilbert ignored her and finished drawing the dress. Then she turned to Lea. “Let’s measure you now. I’ll make yours wide as well, but with a belt. Never know when you might need some extra space too.”

  A brief flicker of hope filled Lea.

  After cutting all the fabric, they stitched until the light grew too dim to work anymore, sipping tea and eating cookies as they sewed. Lea admired Madame Gilbert and Cécile’s work and hoped her garments would turn out as well as theirs. That’s when it dawned on her that for the first time in a month, she was interested in life again.

  When she returned home that evening, she gave Nap the warmest kiss he’d received in a long time.

  “Did you have a good day?” he asked.

  “Yes, I did. Thank you.”

  “I’m so glad. By the way, you got news from home.” He handed her a letter.

  Lea grabbed it and read the return address. “It’s from Palma.” She ripped it open.

  Dear Lea,

  I’m so sorry to hear about your dear little girls’ passing on. I had so looked forward to meeting my namesake, little Palma. What nicknames we could have invented for her. We all cried when we heard the news, especially Maman. She so misses you. Had I been a bird, I would have flown to your side immediately. But of course, boats can’t fly. If only they’d invent planes that could travel over the Atlantic.

  But oh, have I got news for you. I’m married! Yes, can you believe it? I’m actually married! As you remember, I was terrified at Papa’s suggestion to wed old Mr. Georgini, but when I was taken to his home, it turned out it wasn’t him at all, but his son Dino that I was to be engaged to! And let me tell you, he’s one handsome fellow. Well, I stopped balking at the match and we were married two weeks later. I’m as happy as a clown in a circus. We’ve rented an apartment, and I’m enjoying getting to know him. When things are settled, in a year or so, I may suggest to him that we emigrate to Canada.

  I pray for you each day.

  Palma

  Lea burst into laughter.

  “What’s so funny?” asked Nap, his eyes wide with astonishment at her change in mood.

  “Palma’s married! Turns out it was the old guy’s son. And look.” She reached into the envelope. “Here’s their picture.”

  Nap, seized the photo. “And here I was trying to put money aside for her.”

  “You were?”

  “Yes, I was going to surprise you when I had enough. I’m so relieved.”

  Lea squeezed his arm. “She says she’s still thinking of immigrating here. I wonder how you and Dino would get along. Maybe Maman and Papa could come to Canada too.”

  “That would be great.”

  For the next few weeks, Lea spent each day at the Gilberts, sewing more and more clothing. It was on one of those days, she noticed a familiar sea sickness as she worked the cloth. Lea raised her head from her work and smiled. Another baby was on the way!

  PART II – The Homestead

  Chapter Fourteen

  New Beginnings

  Dear Maman, Papa, and family,

  I have wonderful news. After all this time, the government has finally granted us our homestead! It was worth the ten-dollar investment to apply.

  Nap took me to see it yesterday in the Maxwell. I’m so glad we decided to buy that automobile. It’s the handiest thing we’ve ever owned even though it takes a lot to operate it in the winter, boiling water for the radiator and all. But it gives us such freedom. Nap decided it was a necessity after Baby Roger died. He says that if we’d gotten to the hospital sooner, Roger might have survived the pneumonia that took his life. It still hurts terribly to have three babies buried in the Ponteix cemetery, but at least now we have Pol and Lilian.

  The homestead is beautiful. It’s near a brand new town called Masefield. There’s no post office yet, but there’s a blacksmith shop there, and they’re planning to build a school. It would be better if the land was closer to Val Marie since that town’s French, but we can always travel the twelve miles there on Sunday for mass.

  Nap is looking forward to breaking the sod on the homestead, but he assures me we will not be living in a soddy. He has put aside two hundred and fifty dollars to buy lumber for the house and a hundred dollars to build the barn! Claude will help him. They’ll start fencing the land as soon as they’re finished harvesting the crop for Mr. Gilbert. I’m so excited. It’ll be wonderful to pocket the money from our hard work instead of Nap being paid as a hired hand.

  Little Pol is growing like a weed. He’s almost four years old. He’s a wonderful little boy who’s very curious about everything. He has so brightened up our lives. But he was sure confused when Lilian arrived. She came so quickly we didn’t even have time to go to the hospital, and by the time Pol woke up, there she was. When we introduced Lilian to him, he stared at her with an odd expression, and then picked up his ball as though a t
oy were more interesting than his new baby sister.

  I’m glad the difficult times we faced five years ago when we lost the girls have passed. I still leave wild flowers on their grave whenever I can. They will always have a special place in my heart that no one can ever take.

  I’ve enclosed a photo of Nap, Pol, Lilian and me on the new land. It’s so nice to finally have a camera.

  Love,

  Lea

  Lea slipped the photo inside the envelope, licked and stamped it. She sighed. It would be difficult leaving the Gilberts after having lived on their farm so long, but she hoped that Claude and Cécile’s application for a homestead would land them close by.

  The summer passed quickly with its burning heat and never ending work. When the wheat had been harvested and the fruits picked and canned, Nap and Claude set out to Masefield to prepare the homestead. It seemed to take forever since Nap was oftentimes gone for weeks at a time, but when he returned, Lea and the children always welcomed him warmly. Christmas came and went, this time in Ponteix since Levi had honoured his word and retired. In late spring, Lea received the letter from Nap inviting her to join him.

  She lost no time in packing up the children and their belongings and made her way to the station.

  “Un train, Maman!” Pol pointed at the iron horse whose steam puffed from its smokestack.

  “Oui, mon cheri. Un train qui va nous emmener à Papa.”

  She lifted the children up the stairs of the car, then went back for the baggage. Settling them in a seat close to the window, she arranged the luggage overhead before sitting down.

  The rhythmic chugging of the train began. Slow at first, its speed increased. Soon it snaked its way through the prairie countryside, past vast acreages of freshly harrowed fields and rows of green seedlings. Lea gazed up at the magnificent clouds that rose high above them, hiding the sun for brief moments as it traveled across the sky; like giant statues, majestic warriors, she thought.

  “C’est vite,” said Pol, turning to gaze at his mother with adoring eyes.

  “Oui. Très vite.”

  An hour passed before the train slowed, coming to a stop in the town of Killarney. With the help of the porter, Lea unloaded the baggage, descended the stairs, and walked a block away, her feet echoing on the wooden sidewalk, until she found the post office and stepped inside.

  “Hello, I’m looking for the mail truck to take us to Masefield.”

  The man behind the counter scowled at her. “We’re not a bus service, you know.”

  “Yes, I realize this, but my husband is waiting for us there.”

  “Who’s your husband?” he asked, drumming his fingers.

  “Napoleon de Montigny.”

  The man’s eyes lit up. “Ah, Nap! How’s he doing anyway? Haven’t seen him in years. He and I used to work together. I see he got himself a pretty wife…and a couple of kids.”

  “Thank you,” said Lea.

  “Come right this way.” Smiling from ear to ear, the man rose, and took her suitcases, leading the way. “It’s around the back. It leaves at eleven o’clock.”

  She followed him into the alley where a wooden bench provided a comfortable place to sit so she could feed the children. She pulled out some bread and cheese. Pol reached for it and stuffed it in his mouth, chewing contentedly while she nursed Lilian.

  The ride from Killarney to Val Marie began smoothly, but soon turned bumpy, the roads transforming to wagon trails riddled with potholes. Pol shrieked and laughed with every bump while Lea clutched his arm and held Lilian tight against her body.

  “Sorry about that,” said the driver. “After a long winter, the roads are pretty damaged.”

  “It’s okay,” she said. “Pol thinks it’s fun.”

  Lea’s back ached by the time Masefield came into sight. It wasn’t much of a town yet with only a few freshly constructed buildings, but it meant they’d soon be home.

  She saw Napoleon from a distance leaning against the Maxwell. When the mail truck pulled up, Lea opened the door, and Pol broke away from her and ran into his arms.

  “Papa!” he shouted.

  Nap swooped him up. “Allô, Pol. Were you a good boy?”

  “Oui,” the child replied.

  “Then I have this for you.” Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a candy stick and handed it to his son.

  “Merci, Papa.”

  Lea gazed about her. How different from that cold, blustery day in March when they’d first arrived in Ponteix and the Gilberts had picked them up, the freezing wind numbing her ears, and miles of blinding snow forcing her eyes into a squint. Now crocuses shot purple petals through the wild, green grass. Plowed fields emitted the scent of fresh earth, and the air was warm.

  Nap whistled a happy tune as they drove, occasionally throwing an affectionate glance at his wife and children. Lea knew he was excited to show her all he’d done and that she’d better act pleased no matter what. After all, she could always add her own feminine touch after they moved in.

  The wagon trail they traveled on veered to the right and rose up a steep hill. Nap stepped on the gas until they’d reached the top. Two small mounds came into view, connected by a barb-wired fence that opened into a pasture. A Jersey cow gave them an inquisitive stare from inside.

  “Une vache, Maman,” said little Pol.

  “Oui,” said Lea. “A cow.”

  Napoleon stopped the Maxwell, jumped out, and opened the gate. Once he’d driven through, he shut it and climbed back in. They coasted the rest of the way to where the house and barn stood, the Jersey following close behind.

  When Lea opened the door of the automobile, Pol raced to the cow, reached out his hand, and stroked the animal’s lowered head.

  “She’s more like a pet than livestock,” said Lea, catching up to her son.

  “This is the little Jersey cow I wrote to you about when I sent for you in Belgium. She loves people,” said Nap. “I bought her off a neighbour in Ponteix.”

  “How cute. What’s her name?”

  “Why Jersey, of course.”

  Lea laughed and stretched out her hand. “Jersey! Come here, girl!”

  The cow took eager steps toward her, flapping its lips as though expecting grain.

  “Sorry, girl. I haven’t got any food.” She ruffled the cow’s forehead instead.

  “Now come and see the house. Nap tipped his head in the direction of their new home.

  Lea turned to admire the cabin that stood a short distance away. It was a tiny house, smaller than the Gilberts’, but prettier and newer. Its walls were built of shiplap. A single stovepipe rose from the cedar-shingled roof that sloped down from one end to the other in anticipation of snow.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Lea

  “It’s kind of small, but it’s only temporary. I’ll build a better one as we make money. But in the meantime, I have an even bigger surprise for you.”

  “What?”

  “Close your eyes.”

  Lea did as she was told. She heard Nap turn the handle and swing the door open. The smell of fresh wood met her nose. He pulled her inside.

  “Now open them.”

  Lea’s eyes widened at what she saw. The prettiest oven-stove she’d ever seen stood before her. “A Blue Royal Windsor! Oh, Nap! Just think how easy it will be to make bread or bake a cake. And look at all the room to boil vegetables. And there are two compartments to keep food warm. I just love it!”

  “But that’s not all.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and turned her to the right. “Look at the table I built. It has an extension for when our family grows.”

  Lea gazed at the dark brown dining set, but her eyes were drawn farther to where a matching cabinet stood, her dishes placed carefully inside. “Wow!”

  “And here’s the living room.” He turned her around again. “For now, we can all sleep here until I build the new house.” He showed her the sofa bed and the Maurice chair that opened up for Pol. “And we have a cellar too, and…I
made a huge wardrobe.” He walked over and opened its doors to show her.

  Lea smiled. “It’s huge.”

  “Now come outside.”

  He took her to the side of the cabin to where a hand-operated washing machine stood.

  “Nap! A washing machine?”

  “Mm-hm. I figured you were probably tired of scrubbing everything in the tub. Now all you’ll have to do is push the handle for twenty minutes and it’ll do all the scrubbing for you. It’ll save you a lot of time.”

  “I love it!”

  Next, he led her to the barn that stood two hundred feet away near the slough. It too was built of shiplap, but instead of a cedar roof, Nap had laid poles that he’d covered with straw.

  He took her by the arm and led her while Pol ran to catch his mother’s hand. Napoleon slid open the door. Lea stepped inside, allowing her eyes to grow accustomed. Dark figures rose above stall doors.

  “Horses!” she exclaimed. “Six of them!”

  “Yes. We’ll need them to break all that land. I plan to cultivate more ground every year to increase our crops.” He moved to the first stall. “This is Old Dick and his partner Belle, and that’s Prince and Star over there, and these ones are still a little wild—King and Queen.”

  “They’re gorgeous.”

  A familiar grunting caught Lea’s attention.

  “You got a pig?”

  “Yup. Sure did. To butcher in the fall.”

  Lea reached her hand in. “Hello there, little piggy. So glad to have you on our farm.”

  It squealed in reply, its nose wiggling in search of any food Lea might be willing to offer.

  “Sorry, girl.”

  “Now come out back,” said Napoleon.

  Lea followed him to where a small chicken coop made of sod stood in the shade of the barn.

  “Good! We’ll have our own eggs.” She eyed the slough. “But what about the well? Will we be drawing our water from over there?”

  “Never, my beautiful. Not my wife.” They walked a few feet to where a round wall of stone stood, covered by a wooden roof. Cranking the bucket up from below, he submerged the dipper. “Taste it.”