by Nancy M Bell
“Annabelle?” The blonde man took a tentative step toward her and removed his cap.
“Peter? Oh, I’m so happy you’re finally here. I can hardly believe it,” Annie babbled but she couldn’t seem to stop the flood of words.
“Annabelle, Lord you have no idea how good it is to set eyes on you.” Peter covered the distance between them in a few strides, halting awkwardly before her and then offering his hand.
She placed her hand in his big callused mitt, unsure if she should embrace him, offer him her cheek to kiss or shake his hand. Well, isn’t this awkward. Not exactly how I dreamed this would go. His fingers closed around hers, squeezing tight, his gaze fixed intently on her face. Annie met his serious blue scrutiny with unwavering gaze, her heart thundering in her ears. Peter was taller than she remembered and more rugged. She supposed building bridges and setting up field hospitals and the like would account for that. Livid scars marred one cheek and his forehead, courtesy of the shrapnel bombs she expected. His appearance didn’t matter all that much to her, underneath all that added muscle and scarring she could discern the same youth she knew so well. The realization brought a tremulous smile to her lips eliciting a thrill at the response on Peter’s face.
She became aware of the interest of station master and the porters and flushed. Pulling her hand from his grasp, she hooked through his elbow and led him toward the waiting wagon. “Whatever am I thinking keeping you standing here like this?” she said with false gaiety for the benefit of her audience of avid eavesdroppers. News of the encounter would be all over the village before the dust from the wagon wheels settled.
“I don’t mind. It’s just so nice to actually be here. There were times when I thought this day would never come.” Peter smiled down at her.
Annie squeezed his arm. “I know how you feel. I’ve been so busy with preparations sometimes it has felt like I’ve been working in a void and you coming here was all a dream. That I’d wake one morning to find out this,” she waved her free hand vaguely, “is just a fantasy.”
He grinned. “I could pinch you to test if you’re dreaming.”
“I think not.” She snorted. “I could pinch you if you like.” Mischief danced in her eyes.
They halted at the wagon and Peter tossed his knapsack into the back of the buckboard.
“Is that everything? Or do we need to collect a trunk?” Annie eyed the long khaki bag.
“Nope, that’s it, I’m afraid.” He shrugged. “I’m afraid I’m not bringing much material wealth to this union, Annabelle. But I have a strong back and I can build things and I’m willing to work hard to provide for you. At some point I’m determined to pay your father for the land our cabin is built on.”
“Don’t be silly. Father gave us the land as a wedding present. There’s no need to pay him back for anything.” Annie let him assist her up onto the broad seat.
Peter looked up at her, his demeanour serious and determined. “There is need, Annabelle. A man has pride you know. I will pay your family back for their generosity. I need to know I’ve earned the roof over my head.”
“If that’s how you feel…” Annie frowned. “But it is a wedding gift. Let’s worry about monetary things later. Today I just want to enjoy having you here.”
Peter strode around, untied Elsie, and stepped up onto the seat beside her. She laid a hand on his arm as he picked up the lines.
“Turn into the village, I want you to meet my friend, Della. And maybe my brother Evan and his wife Frances if he’s to home.”
“If you like. Giddup, horse.” He slapped the lines lightly on the palomino’s rump and turned her head toward the village centre. Peter glanced at her as the mare ambled along. “How is the cabin coming along? And what still needs to be done before the wedding?”
“Oh, the cabin is ready. That’s where I thought you could stay until the wedding. Unless you’d rather stay in the big house in the guest room? I just thought you might like the privacy and Rotha will arriving, and Hetty and Clarence are planning to come to stay two days beforehand and…” she broke off, unsure of his reaction.
“The cabin will be fine.” He offered a reassuring smile. “After living on top of each other in the troopship and crowded on the trains, the solitude will be welcome.”
“That’s settled, then. Oh, just pull in here, Della’s is the yellow house with the white porch.” Annie pointed toward a neat house shaded by towering oaks.
The visit with Della went splendidly with Della drawing Peter out about his job in British Columbia. The conversation seemed to put him more at ease, the tension easing in his body and his features. After taking leave of Della they drove by Evan and Frances’ place but the couple weren’t home. Annie was quiet on the drive home content to observe her future husband as he took in his surroundings.
“It’s not so much different from Eganville, is it?” he commented, eyes on the mixed soft and hard wood bush crowding both sides of the sandy road.
“No, it’s still Ontario bush,” she agreed. “Although, the snow tends to come earlier and stay a bit later. Maybe because we’re so close to Georgian Bay. We will have to borrow Father’s sledge for moving snow drifts this year as I don’t think we’ll have time to build our own before the snow flies. Oh, did I tell you the out buildings are almost ready?”
Peter shook his head and swatted at a mosquito.
“The chicken house and pig pen are roofed and the logs chinked, so they’re ready for winter. I put in a false floor and packed the space between it and the ground with lots of straw. Ivan says it’s a lot of work for nothing, but I think it will help keep them warmer. The barn is roofed and the walls chinked, the feed room is roughed in, the loft floor is done but there are no stalls yet. I wanted to wait on that anyway as I wasn’t sure if you wanted straight stalls or loose boxes. What do you think?” Annie turned sideways toward him, knocking her knee against his thigh. A thrill of reaction shot through her, an answering colour stained Peter’s ruddy cheeks. His gaze slid toward her, hot and bright.
“I suppose it will depend on how many head we have and what kind,” Peter’s voice was gravelly and he cleared his throat while pressing his leg into her knee.
“Well,” she said sliding a bit closer to him, “I made enough money the last few years selling jams and jellies, along with my egg money to buy us a work horse for the fields. The Finlanders have got together and Ana told me on the sly they’re planning to give us a pregnant sow. We’ll need to buy a milk cow in the spring, for this winter we can take from Father’s cows. I have a couple of sacks of seed potatoes and onions and some small jars of carrot, beet and cabbage seeds. I’ve already got vegetables and apples in our very own root cellar. I built it into the shoulder of the big hill behind the cabin. There’s still lots of wood to split for the wood shed, and some late cabbage and kale to bring in. Oh, this is so exciting! Having you here makes everything so oh, I don’t know…real.” Annie fairly bounced on the seat with contained excitement.
“Sounds like you’ve got things well in hand. I’m impressed.” Peter’s smile was brilliant.
They rode along in silence for a bit, the sun slanting through the trees and laying bright patches across the road. Annie laid her hand on his arm, conscious of the hard slide of muscle beneath her fingers. The watch moved on her wrist reminding her of its presence. She pulled her sleeve up to expose it, suddenly shy.
“I wore your mother’s watch today. The one George gave me…he said he talked it over with you…” she let the words trail off.
Peter dropped his gaze from the road, switched the lines to one hand and closed his fingers over hers. “Yes, we both wanted you to have it.” His face clouded for a moment. “I just wish…”
“I know. We both wish he was here…” Annie’s throat closed and choked off her words.
He pulled the wagon to a stop and hitched the lines over the brake handle. Peter turned and took both her hands in his. “Are you sorry, Annie? I mean, do you regret agreeing to marry m
e? I know you and George had an understanding, but I want you to know I’ve always been very…fond…of you. It was just, well; I knew I didn’t stand a chance. What with the way the two of you looked at each other a blind man could tell how the land lay. I promise to be good to you, take care of you…and not just because I promised my brother.”
Annie blinked back tears, relieved he finally called her Annie rather than Annabelle. “Oh Peter, of course I wish George was here. I hate it that he died in the stupid war. But no, I don’t regret saying I’d marry you. Not at all. I can’t see my life without you by my side now. I hope we have a big happy family. Oh! You do want children, right? We’ve never really had a chance to talk about things like that.” She paused to study his expression.
“Yes, yes. I want lots of young’uns.” His sudden smile was like sunlight breaking through storm clouds. “Girls who look like you and boys take after the Richardson side of the family. Do you think we could call the first boy George?” He caught his bottom lip in his teeth.
“I’d like that,” she whispered. “We’ll call the first little girl after your mother. What was her name?”
“Ellen.”
Annie giggled. “That’s perfect. My mother is Ella, so she’ll think we named her after her, and we won’t disabuse her of that notion.” She leaned her head against his. “I’m really happy. Are you?”
“You make me happier than I thought possible, Annie. But we’d best shake a leg or they’ll be sending out a search party for us.” He dared a kiss on her knuckles and placed her hands in her lap before picking up the lines. “Did the chocolates arrive safely?” he asked without looking at her.
Annie pulled off her left glove and wiggled her fingers at him. “Why yes, the chocolates arrived just fine. And look what I found in the box.” Light sparked off the sapphire.
“That’s a relief. I was worried something would go wrong and I was almost afraid to ask.” He grinned.
“I should have told you right off, I was just so overwhelmed you were finally here I totally forgot. I meant to show you when you got off the train. That was how I planned it, anyway.”
“It doesn’t matter now, does it? Everything’s fine.” Peter clucked to the mare.
“Yes, everything’s just fine now you’re here.” Annie leaned against his shoulder while the autumn leaves showered down on them.
Chapter Nineteen
Annie was awake before the old rooster could crow. She bounced out of bed and danced around the room, stopping to poke Rotha in the shoulder where she slumbered in the cot by the wall.
“Wake up, sleepyhead! It’s my wedding day. Wake up!”
Rotha rolled over, opened one eye a slit and groaned. “Saints preserve me, Annie. Go back to bed, even the chickens aren’t up yet.”
“Don’t care! It’s my wedding day, how can I think about sleeping?” She glanced over at the white gown hanging on the hook by the window; the material glowed even in the dim light. It was perfect. A nice walking length, with no train to trip over and get muddled up with. Mother insisted Annie wear the long China silk gloves that came up past her elbows. The very same gloves Mother wore when she wed Father. Both Hetty and Rotha had worn them before her. It was a shame Rotha’s husband hadn’t been able to make the trip, but her sister was here. Alice had sent a note from Ireland with a bit of dyed blue Irish lace inside. Her something ‘blue’. Annie hugged herself.
Pulling back the curtain she looked toward the cabin across the lane. A light showed in the front window. Annie grinned. Peter couldn’t sleep either. Overhead the sable velvet of the sky was starting to soften and a pearly light crept about the tops of the trees and over the lake. She knelt at the window sill and leaned her chin on her hands enjoying the gentle harbingers of the approaching dawn. The strengthening light pushed the shadows back into the bush and the cranky old rooster finally deigned to announce the imminent arrival of the day.
The day promised to one of the perfect fall days. The sun rose in golden glory turning the autumn woods into torches of colour. The air was still morning cool but promised to be pleasantly warm by the time the mist burned off the hollows. A light breeze tousled the leaves, sending a few spiralling down to the ground. No clouds marred the blue bowl of the sky; Annie opened the window and inhaled the familiar scents of forest and farm.
She turned her gaze skyward for a moment. “I know you’re up there watching us, George. I wish you were here with me, but that’s not what God planned for us. Please give Peter and I your blessing and watch out for us until we can be together again,” Annie whispered, pressed her fingers to her lips and blew a kiss to the blue sky morning.
* * *
Once the household awoke, events moved faster than Annie would have thought possible. Rotha, and even Hetty, fussed with her hair and her clothes. Hetty lent her a pair of satin dancing slippers to wear with her wedding dress with a strict injunction to make sure they didn’t get dirty or come within a mile of a cow pie. Annie giggled and promised to do her best. Her hair was pulled and twisted and wound around curling irons heated in the kitchen cook stove until Annie was sure it would either catch fire or fall out altogether. She had to admit though that the person looking back at her from the mirror was beautiful, even if it didn’t look her.
Ana and a few of the other Finlander ladies stopped by to wish her luck before the wedding and share some of their traditions with her. Some of them made sense and some made her giggle. Annie rather like the idea of having a canvas canopy held over the bride and groom while they took their vows. It was called a ‘bridal sky’ and was usually blue. Mother would have a fit if she suggested it, but it was a lovely idea.
Hetty insisted Annie eat a bit of toast and jam even though she was sure nothing would stay where she put it. “Better to try than have you passing out at the altar,” her oldest sister replied tartly. “Heaven only knows what the neighbors would think.”
“Oh Hetty,” Rotha scolded. “They’d think she was nervous for heaven’s sake. The boy hasn’t been here long enough for it to be anything more scandalous than that.”
“You can never be too careful of your reputation,” she said in a prim voice.
Rotha rolled her eyes at Annie behind the older woman’s back.
Toast and jam dispensed with, Annie let herself be herded back up the stairs to get dressed. In fact, she did little but stand there and do as she was told. She was sure she could have accomplished things in half the time if they’d just let her alone, but that had a snowball’s chance in hell of happening, as Evan would say.
I hope Peter isn’t getting pestered like this. I wouldn’t blame him if he took to his heels and ran if he is. But he won’t. I know he won’t. He promised me, and he promised George. He’ll be waiting for me at the altar. It was comforting to realize there was someone she could count on to be there for her, no matter what. Everything was going to be fine. Just fine.
The buzz of conversation drifted up form below in the front yard. Annie moved toward the open window to see who was there.
“Annabelle! Whatever do you think you’re doing?” Hetty was appalled.
“I’m just going to see who has arrived.”
“No, you most certainly are not.” Hetty towed her away from the window. “What if someone sees your dress before the ceremony? Or worse, what if your husband to be sees you? That’s so bad luck. You just can’t chance it.”
Annie sighed. “I don’t understand how any of that can matter in the whole scheme of things. But if it will keep you happy, fine. I won’t look out.”
“Hetty’s right, Annie. Better safe than sorry, no point in tempting fate,” Rotha sided with the elder sister.
“Can I sit down at least?” Annie hovered by the straight back chair near the bed.
“I suppose, but only if you’re very careful,” Hetty allowed.
“Good, because my feet are already hurting. How do dance in these things?” She held one leg out and twisted her foot from side to side.
�
��If you didn’t have the feet of a man you’d have no problem. I assure you I find them quite comfortable.” Hetty sniffed and looked down her nose at her sister.
“Well, I assure you, I find them quite uncomfortable. But thank you for lending them to me all the same, they do look nice with the dress.” Annie sought to soothe Hetty’s ruffled feathers. The last thing she needed as a set-to with her today.
Rotha disappeared and returned with a pitcher of lemonade and three glasses. “I thought we could use something to drink. The day is becoming quite warm.” She set things on the small bedside table and poured three glasses. Standing in front of Annie, she raised her glass. “To Annie, may she have a long and happy marriage.”
“To Annie,” Hetty echoed her.
“Thanks,” Annie said and took a sip from the glass in her hand careful not to drip on the fine linen.
The clock in the downstairs hall struck the quarter hour. Rotha went to check on the proceedings on the front lawn. “Almost time, Annie. Let’s get your headdress on. I see Father headed this way.”
Annie stood up, conscious of the pinch of the slippers on her toes. She stood stoic while her sisters fussed with the froth of tulle and arranged wild flowers into the head piece and her curls. Wild purple asters, a bit of goldenrod, some pansies for thoughts, late pink summer roses for joy and grace. Her bouquet lay on the chest of drawers. Also wild flowers Annie collected herself. White roses for constancy, more pink ones, a red one for love, more asters, she’d added some creamy white and cerise yarrow for their feathery fronds as well as colour. The whole was tied with cream and pink ribbons. She took a deep breath and picked up the flowers at the sound of Father’s tread on the stairs.
“Are you ready, Annabelle?” He stood in the doorway. “You look lovely, my dear.”
“Thank you, Father. And, yes I’m ready. I think?” She turned to consult her sisters.
“Yes, you’ll do,” Hetty said and waved her onward with a flap of her hand.
