When Breaks the Dawn (Canadian West) (20 page)

I dressed in my simple new gown. It really was quite becoming. I carefully did my hair up in a way I hadn’t combed it for ages. When I was done I surveyed myself in the mirror and was pleasantly surprised at how good I looked.

Then I looked down at my hands and saw the stains and callouses from working in the garden, peeling vegetables, washing clothes on the scrub board, and I hid my hands behind me. I was no longer the cared-for and manicured girl who had left Calgary for the wilderness a few years earlier. I hoped no one would look at my hands. And then I noticed my arms. They had a number of telltale little welts on them, each indicating a spot where a mosquito or blackfly had visited me. I knew my face and neck bore the same spots, and my confidence began to quickly wane.

Then I straightened up to my full height, reminding myself that I wasn’t “out” to set the fashion world to buzzing. I was here to see my doctor—to get some answers, to get some help. And, just as quickly as possible, I would be rejoining my husband in the North where I belonged.

With those thoughts to bolster my courage, I left my room and went down to the front desk to ask the attendant where I might find the dining room.

TWENTY-EIGHT

Calgary

The next morning as the train left the Edmonton depot bound for Calgary, I was almost giddy with excitement. I would soon be seeing my family again! I would be back to the city life I had once known. And, more importantly, I hoped to get some help from my doctor.

The train had not changed. It was still ponderously slow and stopped at every little siding to waste some more precious time. I could hardly bear the agony of it all.

At long last we came to Lacombe, and I strained to see if I could catch a glimpse of faces that I might know. Though the streets of the little town were busy, I did not see anyone whom I had known while a teacher there.

At long last we were on our way again, chugging south, the tracks clicking as we made our slow progress.

Again it was stop and go, stop and go. The sun swung around toward the west, hot as it came in the window. I wished for a seat on the other side of the aisle, but the train was filled with passengers. I shifted farther away from the window and tried to keep from looking out to determine just how far along the tracks we were.

It was no use; I was soon crowding the window again, straining to see out and to guess the distance left to Calgary.

We finally reached the city, and I held my excitement at bay while the train pulled into the depot and with a giant sigh, shuddered to a halt. I remembered well the first time I had entered Calgary. The city had changed much since then, but I had changed even more. The young, stylish schoolteacher from the East no longer existed. In her place was an older, wiser and, I hoped, more sensitive woman.

Jon’s entire family was there to meet me. I had called them from the Edmonton hotel the evening before, telling them I would be arriving by train. They were almost as excited as I was. How the children had grown! I couldn’t believe how tall William was—and how mature-looking for a mere boy. He was a teenager now and hoped everyone would realize it.

Sarah, too, had shot up and looked like a young lady rather than a child. She was now eleven and carried herself with an air of grace.

But I suppose that it was Kathleen who had changed the most. From the dear little child of four who had met me at the station and become my constant companion, she was now a young nineyear-old girl, poised and proper. I fell in love with her all over again, though I found it difficult not to wish the little girl back.

Baby Elizabeth, who had been only a few months old when I arrived in Calgary the summer of 1910, was now ready to start school in the fall.

Mary had the same bright smile, the same beautiful reddish hair, the same flashing eyes I remembered so well. Jon had not changed much either, although I noticed a few white hairs in his carefully trimmed sideburns.

I looked around for Julie. I guess Mary could read my mind.

“Julie is out of town. Her husband is taking some services at Lethbridge and Julie went with him. We phoned her last night and she was so excited she could hardly stand it. She was going to hop the train and come right on up, but he will be finished tomorrow and then they will both be home.”

I understood, but it would be hard to wait.

I hadn’t remembered that Jon and Mary’s beautiful home was so big. Nor so lovely. I wandered around, running my hand affectionately over furniture and fancies. I had almost forgotten that such things made up a house—at least some of them.

Dinner was delicious. We had dishes that I had not tasted for years. Wonderful Stacy had prepared all my favorite things—stuffed chicken breasts, whipped potatoes, creamed broccoli, corn on the cob, and for dessert her famous chocolate mousse. I ate until I felt ashamed of myself.

All the time I was enjoying Mary’s home and Stacy’s dinner, I thought of Wynn.
If only he were with me—this would be sheer heaven!
But Wynn was far away in his northland. A little ache tugged at my heart.

Back in my old room and after soaking in a luxurious bath, I reclaimed one of my lacy, silk nightgowns. Feeling much the pampered lady, I climbed into bed, smiling to myself in the darkness. The bed was so soft and smelled so good that I had visions of the best sleep I’d had for years. But it didn’t work that way. I had become used to a harder mattress. I tossed and turned but sleep did not come. Around three o’clock, in desperation, I threw my pillow on the carpeted floor, took a blanket with me and lay down to sleep.

I felt foolish curled up on the carpet and fervently hoped I would waken in the morning before I was discovered. I was soon asleep.

The next day was busy. I got out all my stored dresses and admired their beauty as I pressed them ready for use. I had forgotten I had so many pretty things. I did need to do some shopping, however, so in the afternoon I took the streetcar downtown.

I had felt sophisticated and proper when I left Mary’s house, but I hadn’t been on the streets for long until I realized that my beautiful gowns were now dreadfully out of style. The farther I went, the more evident it became. I certainly didn’t have the funds for a complete new wardrobe, yet it was plain to see that the dresses of today were far different from mine; I stood out on the streets as one who had been clothed from missionary barrels supplied by the castoffs of the rich.

In embarrassment, I headed home.

I was hardly in the door when I told Mary, “My dresses are dreadfully out-of-date. What will I do? I had no idea that the styles have changed so much.”

Then I looked more carefully at Mary. If I had been observant, I would have noticed yesterday that she, too, dressed in the newer fashions.

“Oh, my,” said Mary noticing my discomfiture, “I should have thought to tell you, Elizabeth, but you always had such pretty things.”

“Well, they might be pretty, but they definitely aren’t in vogue. I don’t want to buy a new wardrobe for the few days I will be in the city, and I don’t have the money for that even if I did wish to. But I will need something else. Most of the dresses on the street were much shorter, and not as frilly, more—more tailored looking. And my hat—it was all wrong, too.”

“Why don’t we see what we can do?” offered Mary. “If you don’t mind them being cut, I’m sure we can find ways to change your dresses and make them quite acceptable.”

“They are no good to me as they are. If you can fix them, even two or three of them, I can make do.”

We chose three dresses that seemed to lend themselves to change and then dear Mary set out to alter them. They turned out quite well, and I felt that now I could walk the city streets without too much embarrassment. Jon and Mary added a little surprise. They asked if they could take me shopping for a new suit and hat, with shoes and bag to match. I hesitated at first, but when Mary expressed her love and deep desire to do this, I consented, and gave them both a big hug.

Julie finally arrived, running quickly up the front walk. She was bubbly. She was beautiful. She was in love. And she was noticeably pregnant. My breath caught in a little gasp.

“I wouldn’t let Mary tell you,” she enthused. “I just had to tell you myself. Oh, Beth, I never knew just how happy one could be.”

I hugged her close. I was happy for her, too, and no one there knew that the tears on my cheeks were more than just shared joy for Julie.

We had a lot of catching up to do. Her eyes shining with love, she proudly introduced her young husband. I remembered that Julie had once swooned over Wynn and had asked me if the Force had any more like him. Well, Reverend Thomas Conway was not another Wynn. He was much shorter and slender in build. He had rust-colored hair, with a carefully trimmed little mustache to match. He had laughing deep blue eyes and a kind smile. He looked like just what Julie needed, and I liked him immediately.

Julie insisted on sharing her wardrobe for the time I would be in Calgary and brought over three dresses that fit me just fine. Actually, she couldn’t wear these particular ones in her condition anyway, she assured me. With six dresses, a suit and proper shoes, hat and bag, I felt quite confident to face the world.

I smiled to myself as I hung up the garments.
Imagine the Beth
of old wearing hand-me-downs, made-overs, and garments of charity!

We called Toronto on Jon’s telephone and I had a long talk with Mother and Dad, their voices bringing back so many memories. They were alone now. With the older girls married and scattered, me up north, Julie out west and, as I had feared, Matthew gone to war, there were just the two of them.

Mother was worried about Matthew and I’m afraid I was no comfort to her. I was worried about him, too. I thought about this young brother, a man now, who wished to serve his country, and a little prayer went up even as my chest constricted.
Why did he have
to go?
I asked myself. But I knew. He went for the same reason so many other young men were going. Their country needed them.

After the first few days of flurry and bustle had passed, I decided I was now ready to phone the doctor and make my appointment.

Mary immediately became concerned when I told her that my real reason for making the trip was to consult a doctor. But when I hastened to explain that, no, I had not been ill, not more than an occasional cold or flu the entire time I had been in the North, she relaxed. I was having a checkup at my husband’s request, I informed her, and she agreed that it was a good idea and Wynn was right to desire it.

The doctor visits and tests were soon behind me and the day came for my final consultation. With anticipation and fear I went to see him.

He was a balding, elderly man, his understanding eyes almost hidden behind bushy eyebrows and dark-rimmed glasses. He motioned for me to be seated and cleared his throat.

I nervously twisted the handkerchief I carried, my eyes studying his face for some clue. I wanted so much to hear good news.

“Well, Mrs. Delaney,” he said, clearing his throat again, “all the tests are in now, and”—he hesitated for what seemed like forever and then went on—“I find no reason for you not to conceive.”

I exhaled and let my body relax.

“That’s good news,” I said in almost a whisper.

The doctor looked over the glasses. “That depends on how you look at it,” he said. “If we don’t find a problem, then we cannot do anything to correct it.” He cleared his throat again.

He waited for my reaction, wondering if I had understood what he had just said.

I understood what he was saying.
There is nothing he can do for me. I might as well not have come.
It really made no difference. No difference at all.

The good doctor continued talking, explaining things I did not understand, but then I was not really listening. I had already heard all I needed to know. Now I just wanted to get out of his office.

I went for a long walk before catching the streetcar home. I don’t really know where I went, I just walked, not paying much attention to where I was going or what was around me.

I came to the river, and as I stood gazing down on it my mind began to clear of its fog. Perhaps the river reminded me of the wilderness. It was the only thing in the city that looked like home.

I lowered myself to the grassy bank in the shade of the poplar trees and let the tears flow. I wanted Wynn. With all my heart I wanted Wynn. No one else really understood how I felt. I cried for quite a while before I got myself in hand. Then I blew my nose, dipped cool water for my face and went in search of a streetcar.

Mary and I had a long talk that night. I told her all about my problem, my aches, my longing. She understood as well as another could understand. She promised that she too would pray that my desire would be granted. I appreciated her love and understanding and encouragement, but I still felt empty.

Besides, I felt threatened by this strange world I had come back to. All the talk of the war, the daily news of more conflicts, the lists of those killed or missing in action filled the papers and caused an atmosphere of constant fear. I didn’t feel comfortable with this new world. My northern isolation had protected me from all this.

I got in touch with Headquarters for any information on when I might be able to return to the North. The man with the deep bass voice told me that there was nothing he knew of in the immediate future, but that he had my number and strict orders to contact me as soon as something came up.

I thanked him and hung up the phone. I did pray, with all my heart, that it would be soon.

TWENTY-NINE

Home Again

Three weeks, and still I had not heard from the Force Headquarters. At night I thought I could not stay for one more day. The days were a little better. I found many ways to fill them. I went for walks with Kathleen, inspected Sarah’s sewing, took shopping trips with Julie, and had long talks with Mary.

My greatest joy was the Sundays. I enjoyed more than I can tell being back in a church service. I guess that was when I missed Wynn the most. I kept thinking how much he would appreciate the services, too.