by Nancy M Bell
She hesitated and heaved a sigh. Without slowing the pace, she fixed him a stern glare. “If, and mind I’m saying if, I give you the lines you have to promise not to mention a word of it to anyone. You understand? It’ll be me who catches the rough side of Father’s tongue and then Mother will have a go at me as well.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Ivan matched action to word while letting hope enter his expression. “I promise on my life not to say anything to anyone.”
“Just until we get in sight of town, okay? I don’t need one of those busy bodies putting a bee in Mother’s bonnet. Keep her steady and don’t get too close to the side or the wheel will get caught in the soft ground.” She handed the lines to him, but stayed poised to take them back in an instant if she thought she needed to.
“Thanks, Annie.” The smile Ivan turned on her was brilliant.
“Watch the road,” she muttered, hiding a smile.
They rattled past Miller’s lane and Annie spared a thought for George. She hadn’t seen since they’d passed each other in Eganville, he on one side of the store and she on the other. Annie sighed. Why did the only boy she found even slightly interesting have to be so unsuitable in the eyes of her family? Didn’t Father preach it was what a person did with their life that was more important than what station in life they were born to? Of course, that didn’t apply to anything or anyone who threatened his exalted position in the community. Fine rhetoric though. Why couldn’t people see through the fire and brimstone to the hypocrisy underlying it? Things weren’t likely to change any time soon though. Hetty’s wedding was coming up soon and surely the Richardson boys would be at the party afterward. Coming as it did at the end of harvest the celebration served a double purpose. The war in Europe was more than beginning to make itself felt even in rural Eastern Ontario. The absence of her older brothers was something Annie felt keenly. She loved them even though the difference in ages meant they never spent much time together.
“Here, give me the lines, Ivan.” Annie reached over and reclaimed the leather reins from her little brother. “We’re too close to town now.”
Ivan relinquished them reluctantly, but without an argument. He waited with the buggy while Annie collected the mail from the General Store and rejoined him. They were home just as the sun dipped into the bushy heads of the maple bush on the hill behind the house. Giving Ivan the mail to deliver to Father, Annie unharnessed Molly, rubbed her down and stored tack and buggy properly before following him into the house.
Chapter Seven
The marriage of Henrietta Clara Baldwin to Clarence Lucas Hiram was the talk of Renfrew County and beyond. Everyone who was anyone was going to be there, along with those of lesser social standing. Annie fussed with her hair one last time, then gave it up for a lost cause and jammed the stupid lacey hat over it. Trust Hetty to insist she wear something that made her look like a cake topper. She grimaced at her reflection in the mirror before turning to the window and looking down into the yard.
Ivan stood at Molly’s head looking uncharacteristically spit and polished. Annie grinned when he raised a foot to kick at the dust and then stopped abruptly. Mother or Hetty must have put the fear of God in his young brain. Gathering up her shawl and gloves she left the bedroom and hurried down the stairs. Hetty’s shrill voice echoed up the narrow stair case grating on her ear. Taking a deep breath, Annie girded her loins for the ordeal to follow and stepped into the front parlour, as Mother insisted on the room being called.
“There you are! It’s about time you put in an appearance instead of lollygagging about upstairs,” Mother greeted her.
“I’ve only just finished dressing, I had to clean up after doing chores,” she defended herself.
“No more of your excuses, get on outside. You’re to go in the first trip to town and make sure the flowers and the church is in order for when Hetty arrives. Ivan is to go with you, so mind you keep you an eye on the spalpeen.”
“Yes, Mother.” Annie reached for the door, ready to make her escape.
“Annabelle, do be sure my dear Clarence and his groomsmen have their boutonnières. I just can’t have anything amiss. After all, the whole county will be watching us today and we must do Father proud.”
Annie paused, hand on the screen door. “Yes, Hetty. Anything else you need me to do?” Her voice was edged with sarcasm which earned her a sharp glance from Mother, but apparently her expression must have been innocent enough because she just waved at her to go.
“Yes, Mother. Yes, Hetty. Anything you say, Hetty. As if a flower is going to make that dry stick Clarence any more appealing,” she muttered under her breath, the new boots from July echoing on the boards of the porch. Lifting her skirts, she got into the buggy and settled the material around her, covering as much as possible with a linen sheet. The dust from the road would wreak havoc on the gown.
“Get in, Ivan,” she called picking up the lines. “Who else is going in this load?”
“Mother and Father are coming with Hetty, but Rotha and Alice should be with us. Too bad Steve and Evan couldn’t be here.” Ivan clambered up to perch on the back seat of the buggy.
“Where is she? If we don’t get moving we’ll all be late.” Annie twisted on the seat searching for some sign of her older sisters.
“I’m right here,” Rotha said from the shade of the porch swing. “Did Father tell you we’re to pick up the Richardson boy to drive the buggy back?” The buggy springs creaked under her weight as Rotha climbed aboard, tucking her skirts around her and covering them with the linen sheet as well. Alice got in as well.
Annie’s heart turned in her chest, it almost felt fluttery. She swallowed and pressed a hand to her bodice. “At Miller’s or Munroe’s.”
“Miller’s, you silly. Haven’t you heard? The other orphan isn’t with Munroe’s any more. Not after your little escapade.” She shot her sister a sideways glance.
Annie swallowed her surprise. “No, I didn’t know that. I do hope he’s waiting at the end of the lane, we’re late enough as it is. God forbid we don’t get the buggy back in time for Hetty to arrive on schedule.”
“It is her wedding day, Annabelle. Don’t be so mean.” Rotha pointedly stuck her nose in the air making Ivan giggle behind them.
Alice maintained her customary silence. Annie sniffed but deigned to reply. Molly picked up her pace in response to the flick of the whip on her haunches. The mid-September air was golden like warm honey pouring through leafy branches overhead. The orange-red tint of the sugar maples glowed in the late morning light heralding the coming of autumn. It was a perfect September day, the sky a deep clear blue and a light breeze stirred the roadside grasses. The liquid notes of the red wing black birds filled the air as the buggy rolled through the low part of the road that bordered the Bonnechere River. The flash of red catching her eye where the birds perched on the brown heads of the bulrushes.
“There he is! Hey, George!” Ivan stood up and waved vigorously, startling both Annie and the horse drawing the buggy.
“Ho, horse. Ivan sit down for heaven’s sake!” She settled the mare and glared at her brother. “You know better than that.”
“Sorry.” Ivan didn’t look in the least contrite.
“Good day, Mister Richardson,” Rotha greeted the young man waiting with cap in hand. “There’s space in the back. Do get in.”
Annie avoided looking directly at George though she was dying to find out what happened between his brother and the Munroes. It was the first time since July she’d seen him up close. He had filled out with muscle and he seemed somehow older than she remembered, much more than a couple of months could account for. Somehow today she would find a way to have a few words with him, Annie decided. She peered at him out of the corner of her eye under the pretense of chasing a horse fly from her shoulder.
Her breath caught in her chest. George was dressed in a dark suit, obviously not his own judging by the fit, but none the less giving him an air of sophistication Annie had
never seen before. The colour brought out the hazel depths of his grey eyes and emphasized the corded muscle of his thigh. Cheeks heated, Annie turned her attention back to the road ahead, very conscious of her sister’s suspicious glance.
She halted the buggy in front of the Lutheran Church. George hopped down and went to stand at Molly’s head. Ivan scrambled down and then gallantly offered his hand to Rotha and Alice to aid her decent. Annie folded the linen dust sheet her sister left crumpled on her vacated seat, shook the road dust from her own and folded it neatly. Gathering her cumbersome skirts around her she searched with her boot for the iron step rung on the side of the buggy. It was awkward with one hand on the seat rail and the other attempting to manage her dress. Strong hands clasped her waist and set her gently on the ground. She turned to stare in surprise at George whose hands were still warm on her waist. For a moment words failed her and all she could do was look into his grey eyes and search for something to say.
“Hrrumphhh.” Rotha cleared her throat in disapproval and tapped her foot. Ivan stared at them wide-eyed. Annie’s heart sank, Lord only knew what he’d tell Mother. Alice merely cocked a disapproving eyebrow at her.
“Thank you,” she stammered.
George dropped his hands like she burned him and stepped back. He nodded wordlessly and went to hand the items in the back of the buggy out to the church ladies waiting for the baskets of ribbons and pew bows.
“I believe it’s high time you got the buggy back instead of making sheep’s eyes at my sister,” Rotha declared in a haughty tone.
Annie winced at the disrespect and dismissal in her sister’s words. She caught George’s eye and gave him an apologetic smile. He shrugged in return as though it was no matter, but his eyes warmed with something Annie couldn’t quite put her finger on.
“Annabelle, come on! What are you doing standing there gathering wool? Come inside and at least make yourself useful for a change.” Rotha sailed up the shallow steps and through the church doors open to the early afternoon sun. Alice pattered after her.
Ivan scampered on ahead chattering like a chipmunk to anyone who would listen to him. Annie took a step to follow her sister but instead whirled back to speak to George.
“What happened to Peter? Where is he?”
George frowned and glanced over her head toward the dark arch of the church door.
“Annabelle!” Rotha’s strident call set Annie’s pulse jumping.
“Later, I’ll tell you later,” George whispered. “Go on, don’t make it worse on us.”
“Meet me in the orchard under the apples.” Annie gathered her skirts and went up the steps.
Rotha grabbed her arm so tight she yelped. “What were you whispering about with that boy? Haven’t you caused enough trouble between us and the neighbors? Besides, even you should set your sights higher than the likes of him. He hasn’t two pennies to rub together, and you are a Baldwin when all’s said and done.”
“I was just telling him he must hurry so Hetty won’t be kept waiting,” Annie lied, crossing her fingers in the folds of her dress.
Her sister sniffed and looked down her long narrow nose. “See that’s all it was. You’ve already cost the Munroes their orphan lad.”
“What do you mean? And let go of me!” She twisted her arm free of the painful grip, glaring at her sister while rubbing feeling back into her forearm.
“Now isn’t the time. Go see what Ivan is up to and make sure those women are placing the pew bows properly according to Mother and Hetty’s instructions. Go on, git.” Rotha gave her a shove.
Rather than argue further, Annie stepped into the dim interior stopping to let her eyes adjust to the light. The familiar scent of lemon and beeswax filled her nostrils. Moving down the centre aisle she pretended to inspect the bows and nosegays attached to the ends of the pews. It all looked fine to her, and besides once Hetty was on her way down the aisle there was no way she was going to stop and make a scene. The scene would come later if she was displeased about anything, but by that time Annie would have made herself scarce. She grinned and went to help the church ladies with the final touches.
* * *
Long tables set under the maples and chestnuts by the side lawn overlooking Mother’s rose garden strained under the weight of the wedding feast. Annie tied an apron over her good dress and tucked her rebellious hair behind her ears. Dratted stuff would never stay up in a bun no matter how many pins she shoved in it. Although Father declared the celebration would be a dry one, Annie knew there was a keg or two of beer behind the barn and a barrel of whiskey in the wood shed. She giggled, Father would have kittens if he found out, but it would give him something to give out about in his hell and brimstone sermon on Sunday.
Ivan was employed to stand by the food and wave a pine branch to deter the flies. A number of the younger neighbor boys were likewise at work. Good then, one less thing to worry about. Until they get bored. The lead crystal punch bowl shot rainbow light over the short grass and up into the leafy canopy where the red-gold rays of the setting sun caught the faceted glass. She grimaced, Lord help anyone who harmed Mother’s prized bowl or treated it with less than the respect it deserved. The delicate bowl had made the long trip from Ireland by ship along with her newlywed parents years before. Annie crossed her fingers, as long as it wasn’t her and she was nowhere in the vicinity if disaster struck it would be fine.
The newly wedded couple was holding court on the raised boards of the front porch. Hetty looked happy and apprehensive at the same time. Annie supposed her sister was thinking of the marriage bed she was obliged to go to later that night. From what she’d seen in the barnyard when her menfolk thought she wasn’t looking, the whole thing seemed to consist of the male animal mounting the female from behind with a lot of grunting and sometimes screaming in the case of the barn cats. For the life of her Annie couldn’t see why any woman would want to subject herself to that. But Mother insisted it was a wifely duty and no matter how distasteful it was, it was also something that must be endured for the sake of the babies that would result.
Yech! I think I’ll just stay an old maid. There are worse things, I’m sure. Pausing for a moment in the shade of the big maple Annie considered the man her sister had married and shook her head. There was nothing about him with his weak chin and skinny shanks that would induce her to take her clothes off for him let alone allow him to touch her private places. Well, Hetty’s made her bed so she’ll have to lie in it, I suppose. May she find joy of it.
No one seemed to need her to do anything at the moment so Annie leaned on the rough trunk behind her and allowed herself to relax. Her gaze wandered over the milling guests. Twilight turned the sky to deep blue violet, some of the older boys were carefully lighting the lanterns and torches set around the lawn to provide illumination as night fell. The first stars glimmered overhead and over the cedar swamp in the hollow beyond the bottom hayfield the fireflies blinked in a crazy dance to music only they could hear. Her gaze lighted on Alice, blonde and willowy, ladling out punch. Her shy sister was leaving for Ireland the day after tomorrow to live with Father’s relatives and teach school.
Speaking of music, she straightened up from the tree, the fiddler was tightening his bow and the Joe’s squeezebox emitted squawks and wheezes. Annie loved the eclectic combination of the local musicians and was grateful Father had been unable to hire the string quartet from Ottawa that Mother and Hetty had their hearts set on. Stuff and nonsense, and such a waste of money when money and other things were so scarce due to the war in Europe.
I wonder where George is. He said he was coming, but maybe something came up…I really need to find out what happened to Peter. Nothing horrible, I hope… She’d have to look for him later by the apple trees, but for now it was time to clear the picked over remains of the wedding feast. Father was getting ready to start speechifying, she could tell by the way he straightened his coat and pulled on his lapels. Annie wouldn’t be needed for any of that and she might as we
ll get a start on the clearing up and bring water in for the dishes. She glanced around for Ivan and his friends but of course they were long gone, off on some adventure of their own no doubt.
She was glad to escape the long winded speeches and declarations of the bride’s admirable attributes. There was a cauldron of warm water simmering on the stove in the summer kitchen which she used to fill the wash basin. Thankfully someone had thought to fill it and set it to warm so she didn’t have to lug heavy pails from the well and wait for it to boil and then cool enough to stick her hands in.
Wrapping the left overs in waxed brown paper she piled the perishables into a woven basket and carried them out to the ice house. It was full dark by now and the rear of the house was lit only by the stars and half-moon riding low in the sky. Laughter and voices from the front and side of the house spilled into the blessed silence where she stood. Sighing she wiped her hands on the now soiled apron and turned back to the kitchen to start on the dishes. She’d finished two tubs of dishes and emptied the dirty water out onto the vegetables in the root garden near the back door. The table was still piled with pans and silverware.
Somewhere nearby the whippoorwill called. Annie glanced at the waiting dishes and then pulled off the apron and flung it over a chair. The night was still warm but there was an edge to the breeze that said it was closer to autumn than mid-summer. Snatching a shawl from the hooks behind the door, Annie slipped out into the darkness. She needed no light to show her the way to the orchard, her feet found the familiar path without faltering. Underneath the trees the night deepened, she glanced upward at the stars shining through the lacy branches. Such a perfect night. Now if only George was waiting for her by the apple trees…
Annie slowed near the old gnarled trunks. When she was younger this was her favourite place to play. The Apple Tree Man was her secret, one she never told anyone about. She spent many happy hours playing in the shade of the largest tree, climbing into the spreading arms and dreaming the long summer afternoons away. The evening breeze picked up flicking at the fringe of her shawl. Tightening her grip on the material she reached out to trail her fingers along the rough bark.
