Fields of Gold Beneath Prairie Skies Page 5

  “And did you?”

  “No. It was too dangerous with so many Germans everywhere.”

  “You’re lucky to have such a man,” said Marie-Ève.

  “Yes, I am.” She reached over to the light and switched it on. “Would you like to see his photo?”

  “Sure.”

  Lea pulled out the worn picture she had of Napoleon in uniform.

  Marie-Ève gazed at the image, raising her brows. “He looks like a very good person. And nice-looking too.”

  “Thank you.” She kissed the image of her betrothed. “That’s why I love him. What about you? What does your fiancé look like?”

  Marie-Ève rummaged about in her bag and pulled out a small sepia-coloured photo. Friendly brown eyes stared out at them. “His name is Guy.”

  Lea viewed the photograph, giving an appreciative nod. “He’s very handsome.”

  “I think so too.” Marie-Ève squeezed her shoulders and giggled. Then she grew thoughtful. “You know, Lea, we have to move forward, you and I.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We have to forget the war ever happened. I’m through with crying and you should be too. Let’s make a pact tonight that from now on, we begin our new lives.”

  Lea regarded her friend, mulling over her request, then replied, “All right, let’s.”

  “We’ll make a toast, then,” said Marie-Ève, raising an imaginary wine glass.

  Lea raised hers too.

  “To Lea and Marie-Ève and their new lives!”

  They clinked the invisible glasses. Then Marie-Ève climbed back up to her bunk, and Lea lay down, pulling the covers over herself. The ship had stopped pitching, and she fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

  Chapter Seven

  Halifax

  Lea awoke to a sore throat and a fever. Her muscles ached, and she felt nauseated. She tried to sit up, but dropped back down on the narrow bed.

  “Marie-Ève,” she croaked.

  Her friend’s face appeared at the edge of the top bunk. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think I have the Spanish flu!”

  Marie-Ève gasped. “What? Why?”

  “Because my muscles are throbbing, and my throat hurts. Ohhhhh,” she moaned.

  Marie-Ève leapt down from the top bunk to feel Lea’s forehead. “Oh, dear! You’re burning up!”

  “I know! What if I never see Napoleon again? After all I’ve been through with this stupid war and this sea sickness, and now we might never be reunited.” She broke into heartfelt sobbing.

  “Nonsense!” insisted Marie-Ève. “You’ve probably just caught a cold.”

  “No, it can’t possibly be a cold because it hurts everywhere. I’m sure it’s the Spanish flu.” Lea wailed.

  Marie-Ève looked frozen with fear. Then she sprang into action. “I’m going to get the doctor.”

  “Yes, please hurry!”

  The young woman threw her clothes on and left. Fifteen minutes later, she returned, an older gentleman in tow.

  The old man’s white, bushy eyebrows rose and fell as he spoke. “What seems to be the problem here?” he asked, his French coloured with a thick, German accent.

  Lea flinched at his inflections but decided she couldn’t be picky. She was dying, after all. “Everything hurts, and my throat is sore.”

  “And she’s been vomiting too,” said Marie-Ève.

  “Sit up and let’s have a listen.” The doctor made himself comfortable on the edge of the bed.

  Lea slumped forward.

  He pushed the ends of the stethoscope into his ears and laid the diaphragm on her back, tapping and listening. Then he placed it carefully on her chest. His forehead creased as he listened. “And you say you’ve been vomiting?” he asked.

  Lea nodded. “Ever since we left Liverpool.”

  “Ever since you left Liverpool, you say?” He whistled on the letter ‘s’.

  “Yes.” She whimpered.

  He tilted his head in amusement. “There’s hardly a passenger on this ship who hasn’t gotten seasick. The waters have been very rough. It’s what happens when you travel across the Atlantic in the winter. As a matter of fact, I’ve been mighty busy treating patients for nausea since we left port.”

  “But what if it’s the Spanish flu? I’ll die and—”

  “Oh, I doubt it is.” He took the stethoscope from around his neck and pushed it back into his bag. “Have you been near anyone with a cold lately?”

  Lea’s crying stopped as though a great revelation had come to her. “The family on the train! They were all coughing and sneezing…and I ate one of their sandwiches.”

  “Ah,” said the doctor, holding up a decisive finger. “That was probably it. You weren’t careful enough. You must wash your hands all the time. Especially since the Spanish flu hasn’t been eradicated yet and won’t be for some time. Now you get some rest and I’ll come back later to check on you, all right?”

  “Thank you,” said Lea. “But what do I do about the fever and the aches?”

  The doctor sighed. “Unfortunately, I can’t do much since there is no pharmacy on the ship. Otherwise, I could give you the new miracle drug called aspirin that can cure the worst of fevers. I’m so sorry.”

  “It’s okay.” Lea lay back down.

  Turning to Marie-Ève, he said, “Keep her forehead cool. Lots of cold compresses. The water from your sink will be nice and chilly.”

  Marie-Ève nodded.

  By the next day, Lea’s fever had decreased and the aches in her muscles had all but disappeared, but she was left with a hacking cough and a runny nose to go with the nausea from the constant rolling of the ship. She remained huddled in the cabin for most of the trip while Marie-Ève sat on the main deck, making periodic returns to see how her friend was faring.

  After an exhausting week, Lea awoke in the night to stillness. The pounding of the rain had ceased as had the relentless tossing and pitching of the vessel. All was quiet. She lay in the dark, listening, wondering, until curiosity called her. Rising from her bed, she slipped her coat on over her nighty, careful not to wake Marie-Ève.

  Feeling around in the dark for the handle, she pulled the door open ever so slowly. It groaned in protest.

  “Where are you going?” asked Marie-Ève, her voice thick with drowsiness.

  “I think we’ve stopped moving,” Lea whispered. “I’m going up to have a look.”

  “But you can’t go alone. It could be dangerous.”

  Lea paused. “I forgot about that.”

  “Wait for me. I’ll come with you.”

  Lea stood by the door until Marie-Ève dressed. They slipped into the dim-lit hallways, avoiding anyone who might still be awake.

  The corridors of the ship were hushed, an occasional snore disturbing the quiet as the girls crept up the stairs and onto the main deck.

  Lea opened the door that led outside, catching her breath at the beauty. Tiny pinpricks of stars like needlepoint and a full rising moon lit up the sky. The waters, like glass, reflected their splendour. A soft breeze caressed her face, a welcome respite from the near gale that thrashed her hair and clothes about. But it was what she saw above her in the distance that filled her with awe.

  “The Aurora Borealis!” she exclaimed.

  The girls watched as glowing pillars of green and blue lights danced in the sky, rising and falling like giant angels.

  “I’ve always heard of them, but I’ve never seen them,” said Marie-Ève.

  “I’ve seen them once before—on a night like this about a year ago. The guns had been blasting in the distance all day until they finally quit for the night. And that’s when they appeared…like some kind of promise that beauty still existed in the world despite the war, and that one day, the earth would heal itself again.”

  They stared in silence, mesmerized by the play of lights above them.

  “Perhaps it’s a sign of what awaits us in Canada,” Lea said.

  “It’d be nice, wouldn’t it?”
>
  “Yes.”

  Her eyes traveling further, Lea spied a ghostly image in the distance. She squinted to see what it was. A shiver ran down her spine. “An iceberg!”

  Marie-Ève gasped. “Like the one that sank the Titanic!”

  Lea hugged herself. She’d read the stories in the paper about the great ship that had struck an iceberg only seven years earlier and how the disaster took countless lives. Wasn’t it on such a night as this—calm and serene? “Perhaps that’s why they’ve got the engines so low,” she said. “To navigate through them.”

  “Maybe.”

  They watched, entranced, as the ship crawled through the motionless waters, tracing wide arcs around the menacing phantom figures until dawn crept in, a thin line of light hovering over the opposite horizon.

  “It’s nearly daylight,” said Lea. “We’d better get back before the crew rises.

  “All right,” agreed Marie-Ève.

  They made their way down the stairs on quiet feet. When they got to their room, they crawled into their now-cold beds and slept the rest of the night. Lea smiled as she drifted off. Soon they’d be in Halifax and on the final leg of their journey, another step closer to her Napoleon and far from the ruthless ocean that made her life a misery.

  ***

  A few days later, Lea and Marie-Ève stood on the deck with their luggage, watching as the port of Halifax grew larger and larger.

  “Something’s not right.” Marie-Ève frowned.

  “What do you mean?” asked Lea.

  “It looks like it was bombed, but how can that be when the war was fought in Europe?”

  “Didn’t you hear what happened here a year-and-a-half ago?” asked Lea.

  “No, what?”

  “Two ships collided in the harbour. One of them was loaded with ammunition.”

  Marie-Eve’s eyes widened. “Oh, no!”

  “It was a terrible thing. First the explosion, and then the tidal wave. Entire buildings were destroyed. More than two thousand people were killed. Some of them were young children on their way to school. Others were blinded by bits of glass when the windows shattered inside their homes.”

  “Oh, how ghastly!” whispered Marie-Ève.

  As the ship drew nearer, Lea scanned the town. City blocks had been wiped clean of any houses, while others were only ghosts of their former selves.

  But despite the desolate scene that lay before them, Lea’s stomach fluttered as the ship approached. She was glad to be leaving the shifting decks of the vessel for stable ground because it meant she would soon be in Napoleon’s arms.

  It seemed to take the sailors forever to lower the gangplank and to remove the chain that separated them from the new world. When they finally did, Lea and Marie-Ève hurried down.

  After they’d cleared immigration and left the building, Lea knelt and dug her fingers through the snow until she felt the earth.

  “First Belgium, then Dover, then Liverpool, and now Halifax,” she murmured to herself.

  Marie-Ève gave her an inquisitive look.

  “Those are all the cities I’ve passed through on this voyage.”

  Her friend’s face lit up with comprehension. “Okay! For me it’s from St-Malo, to Dover, to Liverpool, and to Halifax.”

  Lea pumped mittened fists in the air. “Do you know what this means?” Without waiting for an answer, she said, “We’re almost home!”

  “I know. I can’t wait to see my Guy! Let’s buy our train tickets and then explore the town, okay?”

  Lea hesitated. “I don’t know,” she said, eyeing the wreckage with trepidation. “This reminds me too much of Europe. I mean, isn’t this what we’re trying to get away from?”

  “But we may never return. Let’s go see what we can so we can tell our grandchildren someday.”

  “All right, then,” said Lea.

  The girls made their way to the temporary structure that had replaced the battered railway station and bought their tickets. Finding a small diner close by, they ate fish and chips. Then they wandered through the streets past lots, empty except for piles of stones that once marked their foundations.

  “Look over there at that domed building.” Lea pointed.

  “It’s like a skeleton,” said Marie-Ève.

  Lea hugged herself. “It must have really been quite a blast.”

  “I can’t imagine how they survived over the past two years.”

  “Nor I,” said Lea.

  They continued to walk through streets where mounds of rotting lumber that once housed families balanced precariously, ready to topple, and where dead grass poked through snow. It eventually led them to the graveyard.

  “Do you want to go in and have a look?” asked Marie-Ève.

  Lea’s forehead wrinkled. “But why?”

  “I don’t know. I like graveyards. Each tombstone tells a story. Like this one, for example.” She pulled Lea inside the gates. “This lady died when the Titanic sank, and look, she’s buried with her child. Can you imagine the anguish her husband must have suffered?”

  Lea shook her head. “It must have been horrible.”

  “And here’s an entire family that died from the blast—an entire family!” said Marie-Ève

  Lea read the epitaph.

  “And look at this really old one,” Marie-Ève continued, “a child who died of smallpox.”

  “Poor thing.” Lea’s teeth chattered. “Let’s get out of here before we freeze to death and join them. I’m so cold.”

  “Me too.”

  They trudged back to the station, their breath steaming in the frigid air. When they walked through the door, they clapped their hands to warm them up, then waited for the train that would take them away from the scene of tragedy and death to their new lives far away from any reminders of the war.

  Chapter Eight

  To Regina

  A few days later, the train approached Quebec City from the opposite bank of the St. Lawrence River, leaving the destitute city of Halifax far behind. Lea watched as the town transformed from a thin grey line to an impressive European skyline.

  Her friend’s eyes were wide with wonder. “This is so much like my Bretagne!” she exclaimed, her voice teeming with excitement. “The buildings are almost the same. What a pretty place. And look—there’s Château Frontenac!”

  “Château Frontenac?”

  “Yes, it’s a hotel the railroad built!”

  “A hotel? Really? Wow! It looks like a castle. Perhaps Guy will take you there for your honeymoon.”

  “You never know.” Marie-Ève wiggled her eyebrows up and down.

  Lea watched as they approached the magnificent structure. Every nerve in Marie-Ève’s body seemed to have come to life as the train pulled into the station, sputtering out a final puff of steam as it drew to a halt.

  Marie-Ève leapt from her seat. “I see him! I see my Guy!” She waved frantically.

  Without even so much as a good-bye, Marie-Ève grabbed her suitcase, and nearly bowled Lea over as she slipped past and raced down the stairs into the handsome man’s arms. Lea’s shoulders drooped as the distance between them grew. She let out a despondent sigh, then reached down for a newspaper to keep her busy for the next little while. But before she had a chance to open it, Marie-Ève reappeared beside her.

  “Come meet my Guy!”

  Swallowing her disappointment, Lea raced after her into the chill air.

  “This is Lea,” Marie-Ève said when she found her fiancé again. “We shared a room together on the boat. We’re the best of friends, and she’s going to Regina to get married.”

  Guy bowed deeply and kissed her hand. “Enchanté, mademoiselle. Perhaps some day you can visit us with your husband.”

  “I’d love that.” Lea smiled.

  “Yes, we must exchange addresses,” said Marie-Ève, opening her bag to find a pencil and a scrap of paper.

  The train whistle blew.

  Lea gasped. “Oh, no! It’s leaving.”

  “Wait.
Don’t go yet.” Marie-Ève rustled inside her bag. “I didn’t get your address. We have to keep in touch.”

  Lea shot a frantic look over her shoulder. Steam puffed from the train’s smoke stack. “But I’ve got to go!”

  “Quick, Guy. Do you have something to write with?”

  Guy dug in his pockets, desperately searching.

  The side rods of the train began to move.

  “It’s leaving!”

  “But Lea…” Marie-Ève called, her hand in mid-air.

  “Good-bye!” Scrambling up the stairs, Lea hurried back to her seat and waved to the distraught couple until she couldn’t see them anymore.

  Wiping a tear, she bit her lip. What would she do now that Marie-Ève was gone? She had four days to go until she arrived in Regina.

  I might as well make good use of my time.

  Taking the dictionary out of her bag, she began circling words in the newspaper, looking them up, and memorizing them.

  “I am Lea,” she practiced. “Robert Borden is the prime minister of Canada. Last week, the police arrested a criminal. Buy a Ford Model T for only $2,168. A made-to-measure dress from Eaton’s department store.”

  After she’d concocted a few phrases, she took out a piece of paper and attempted to write a practice letter in English.

  Dear Prime Minister Borden,

  I am a Leopoldine from Belgium. I am coming to Canada because your government is good and because your policemen catch many criminals. Also, I want to buy a Model T Ford for only $2,168 and order dresses from Eaton’s.

  Leopoldine Decorte

  She chuckled to herself as she reread the letter. How odd the prime minister would find her if he were to receive such a correspondence. Reading through it one more time, she erased the last name and changed it to de Montigny. Satisfied, she folded the paper and put it away.

  The carriage she traveled in had numerous empty seats. Lea had placed her bag in the space Marie-Ève had left beside her in her usual attempt to prevent unwelcome male company. Her strategy proved useful, enabling her to sleep lying down that night, bundled up in her coat, hat, and gloves to combat the freezing air of the train. She stirred several times in the night, drawing her limbs closer to conserve heat. When she awoke the next morning and stared out the window, her eyes widened. Vast expanses of forest stretched before her, frozen streams and lakes, and skies a bluish hue caused by tiny snowflakes that fell softly to the earth. Occasionally, she spotted peculiar animals with large, brownish humps and wide antlers who scraped hooves through the snow, searching for bits of grass to chew on.