by Lucy Lambert
The area doubled as foyer and coatroom, consisting of a short hallway that let onto the living room. It sounded like his mother was in the kitchen still. They kept a separate dining room here. The house felt warm and comforting as Jeff shut the door, muffling the noise from the street as tires and hooves went over the pavement.
"Jeff?" I heard his mother call.
"Yes, mum. I'm here with Eleanor!"
"That's nice, dear. I believe there's some mail for you in the living room. Eleanor, dear, please come and help me!"
"Of course, Marie," I called back.
Going up onto my tiptoes, I stole a quick kiss from Jeff before going into the kitchen. Marie was a teetotaler, neither smoking nor drinking. A crucifix hung over the doorway to the kitchen, and another one was nailed in over the entrance to the dining room. I could see the customary bottle of sparkling water resting on the middle of the table.
Where my mother was tall and severe, Marie was short and plump. Her hair had gone entirely grey. She always kept it in a tight bun at the back of her head, which was in turn always covered by a dark scarf which she tied under her chin.
At the moment, she wore a white apron over her dark dress.
That apron never had a spot on it. In fact, the whole house was kept spotless. I always joked privately with my mother that all anyone had to do to check in on Marie was to see if the porch steps had been swept or not.
Not that anyone needed to check on her. All that cleaning seemed to give her a wiry strength and vitality, though even in these lean times she maintained her plumpness.
"Hello, dear!" Marie said, turning from the stove to take my hands with hers. She smiled, showing me where Jeff got his good teeth.
We exchanged pleasantries for a few moments. I was going through the motions, giving most of the attention to the smell of cooking ham. My cheeks brightened when my stomach let out a little rumble of anticipation. I hoped supper would be served shortly. That walk had really worked up my appetite.
"I cannot believe those women at Lang's," Marie said, pulling plates down from the cupboard to the right of the sink. She handed them to me. "Giving my Jeff those feathers and telling him awful things. I can't wait for this dreadful war to end. Then he'll just have to think about you..."
I smiled as she put another plate onto my arms. She did it so gently that it hardly clattered at all. I knew there would be no disagreement from her on our marriage. Jeff once joked that he wondered if she would propose for him. I had told him that I would accept the offer from her. He'd gone red in embarrassment.
I looked into the dining room. Jeff wasn't there yet.
"Jeff? Why don't you come to the table?"
Marie stopped then as well, looking past me into the dining room as though I were playing a joke on her. It was odd. Jeff liked to sit and sip at a glass of the sparkling water.
I remembered Marie telling him about his mail. Marie, holding the final plate in one hand, squawked at me as I walked into the dining and set the dishes down onto the table. They clanked together, the sound loud and sharp.
My heart started racing again as I went through another crucifix-guarded doorway into the living room.
"Jeff?" I said.
I found him sitting on the couch. A torn envelope sat on the coffee table. He had a letter gripped in both hands on his lap. His eyes kept moving feverishly over the lines, and he didn't seem to notice that I had come in.
"What is it?" I asked.
The look on his face didn't help my galloping heart. The palms of my hands felt cool and clammy as I clasped my fingers together.
Had someone died? His face had pulled tight, his eyes opened wide and unblinking. The pink tip of his tongue poked out from between his lips for a moment. One heel bounced up and down off the floor, making his whole body shake.
"Jeff? Jeff!" I said, taking another step into the room.
He looked up at me then, and I stopped. I had to suppress the urge to take a step back. We locked eyes then, neither of us blinking. I wanted so badly to ask him what was the matter, but neither of us seemed able to talk.
Marie stepped in behind me. "Jeff? What is it?"
Jeff lifted the letter and turned it so that we could see. It was too far for me to read, but the Canadian coat of arms was apparent. Right then, it felt like cold fingers had wrapped themselves around my heart. Their grip tightened steadily.
"What does it say?" Marie asked. I still couldn't find my voice.
Before he spoke, I already knew what it was. I had seen several already. A few of the men had come to tell their wives and girls at the Bauer building when they'd received theirs.
"It's an order to report to the nearest Canadian Forces Base. I've been drafted," Jeff said.
"What?" Marie yelled. She rushed over and snatched the letter from Jeff's hand and read it herself.
She slumped down onto the couch beside him.
"You can't!" I said, finally.
Jeff sighed, "It's not up to me, Ellie. I've been drafted. I've no choice in the matter. It says I have to report by Monday or I will be declared Away Without Leave."
It was my turn to snatch the letter away. I took two quick steps and reached out, grabbing it from Marie.
It was as he said. He was to report for training by Monday, where after he would join the 118th Battalion in France to protect Europe from the imperial ambitions of Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire.
Holding the paper in my hand cinched it. Before that, I'd held some mad hope that this had been a joke. That the paper had been a blank piece of paper and I'd look up from it to see Jeff and Marie having a good laugh at my expense.
I ripped the letter up, letting the shreds float through the air and land on Marie's spotless floor. She huffed at that, leaning over to catch them as they fell. Even at this moment, she couldn't keep herself from cleaning.
"That's not going to help," Jeff said.
No longer caring for propriety, I sat on the coffee table right in front of Jeff. I grabbed his hands and looked into his green eyes. This close, I could see the little flecks of blue in them. They seemed to scintillate in the light. His hands felt warm and dry against mine.
"Don't worry," I said, dredging my mind for any solutions. I thought of the paper, and what it had said about the Conscription Act. "There are ways out of this. It says in the paper that there are a few things you can do to avoid the draft..."
Jeff squeezed and rubbed my hands, trying to work some warmth back into them. It seemed as though all the blood in my body had retreated back towards my heart as the shock settled inside me.
"Yes! I remember reading that, too, dear," Marie said.
She was smiling again. We'd come up with a way to keep her son out of the war.
"No," Jeff said.
"No, what?" I asked.
"No, there's no way to avoid it. And even if I could, I wouldn't," Jeff said.
I pulled my hands away from his. He held his palms up for a moment, then held his knees in a tight grip as he leaned back away from me.
"Jeff! You cannot be serious," I said, "It sounds like you want to go!"
I knew in my heart that that was the truth. Jeff had always wanted to go, no matter how hard Marie and I fought to keep him from enlisting. Well, the Government of Canada had finally stepped in and made the choice without consulting us first. And my poor, foolish Jeff wasn't going to fight it because it was what he'd always wanted.
He squared his shoulders and shook his head as though limbering up for a fight. Those strands of hair fell across his forehead again.
"Jeffrey, dear, we've already discussed this," Marie said, "You decided that you weren't going. Listen to Eleanor. We can make sure the draft board rejects you. She's right, there are ways..."
"No! I didn't decide. You two decided for me. I want to make something of myself, I want to see the world and serve my country. I can't do that at the factory."
I could feel him slipping away from me, withdrawing into himself. His face
had flushed red with anger again. I tried to take his hands, but I couldn't pry his fingers from his knees. The ham in the oven started burning, but we all ignored it.
"I don't want to lose you, Jeff!" I said, my voice cracking.
"You won't. I'll be okay, you'll see. The war will probably be over before I even finish training," he said.
I remembered all the young men back in 1914 saying the same thing. The war will be over before we get there, they'd joked. The war had ended quickly for many of them sooner than even they thought. The German machine guns and artillery were relentless.
The image of Jeff lying face down in the muck of some water-filled crater filled my brain. How could he do this to me?
"Don't you want to be together?" I asked him.
Marie had clenched both her hands into fists, which she was rubbing up and down her thighs. She kept looking between us. The smell of the burning ham increased, but I seemed to be the only one who noticed.
Jeff took a deep breath, then leaned forward as though talking down to a child who just didn't understand. He reached for my hands and I let him take them.
"We will be, when I get back. When the war ends, I'll go to Paris and buy the ring there! What other girl will have a real French engagement ring?"
It had gotten to him, I could see that. The war fever. That itch that young men get to prove themselves, and show that they could be heroes, too. The price of being a hero, though, always seemed to be a life. They thought it was all a game.
"You stupid, stupid boy!" I said.
I wrenched my hands from his and stood.
"Eleanor!" Marie said, wringing her hands together in her lap like they were a wet rag she had to dry out. I could tell it was just an automatic response. A veneer of shock at rough language. I could tell from the distant look in her eyes, like she was gazing right through the opposite wall with its old watercolor frames, that she was just as upset as I.
"Why, Jeffrey, why are you doing this to me?" I asked.
The smell of burning ham filled my nose. Why is she letting it burn so? I wondered. Paradoxically, my mind fixated on that scent. It tickled in my nostrils even as my eyes began stinging. Pressure built up behind them. Lord, there had to be flames spewing their dark smoke out through the old oven door.
It couldn't have been because Jeff had thrust upon me the real possibility of going over to Europe to fight in their war. To perhaps die in that war and never come back to me. No, it was the stinging smoke of the ham.
I caught a sob in my throat before it could come out, and my body shook with the effort of containing it.
"Eleanor, dear, why don't you sit by me?" Marie asked. Concern tinged her voice, though I could hear the slight quiver in it that spoke of the anguish under the surface. Marie knew mothers who'd lost their sons already. Her face, plump with full, pale cheeks, drew taut as the thought of having that happen to her haunted her expression.
She'd stopped wringing her hands, though her eyes still fell to the floor every time she tried to look at her son.
A small, torn corner of the letter had settled on the coffee table. I snatched it away, crumpling it in the palm of my hand and dropping it down on the floor with its fellows.
My chest started heaving, and my dress seemed to have tightened about my waist. I couldn't breathe. No matter how much air I pulled in, my lungs cried out for more. The stench of the ham got to me.
"Please, Ellie, sit down. Let's talk about this, you and I. I have some time. Why don't we spend it together so that I can have some lovely memory of you I can cherish at training, and on the long voyage?"
He reached up for my hands, the cuffs on his jacket riding back along his wrists. He had such long, delicate fingers. They were meant to play an instrument, or build things. Not to wield a rifle. What was he thinking?
"No, I'm sorry, I can't. I can't talk to you right now, Jeff."
The hem of my dress swished above the floor as I made for my escape, away from that smell, away from that awful letter.
At the doorway into the foyer, I remembered my manners and spun about. I could feel my carefully coiffured hair coming undone, strands of it sticking out, some of them crossing my vision.
Jeffrey had his hands on his knees again. He stared steadfastly at the floor as he fingers pulled up on his slacks, showing his dark socks. One of his shoes had come undone. How could he be a soldier if he couldn't even keep his shoes laced?
"Marie. Marie?" I said.
Jeffrey's mother shook her head and looked up at me, squinting as her eyes focused back on me. She appeared startled at my transposed position, and I knew that she'd withdrawn fully from reality for those few dreadful moments. She thought I was still sitting down by her.
"Yes, Eleanor?" she asked.
"Thank you for the invitation to dinner. However, I'm feeling indisposed at the moment. Perhaps..." I trailed off. I'd wanted to suggest rescheduling to next week, but Jeff wouldn't be there next week, "...I'm sorry. Please, have a nice evening."
"Thank you, dear. Tell your mother I asked about her..." Marie said.
She jerked, her head turned towards the kitchen, "My ham!"
I turned to go, having already pulled on one shoe. I had the other in my hand when I felt Jeff standing in the door behind me.
"Please don't be mad, Ellie. Won't you please consider staying?"
I dropped my shoe and put my hand to my face. That pressure returned, throbbing against the back of my eyes as though some evil little demons cavorted in my skull, laughing as they tried to push them right from their sockets.
"I'm sorry, Jeff, I just can't. Not right now. Please, forgive me," I said.
It took two tries to get my shoe on my foot and get the little buckles fastened. I hurried out the door into the cooling evening air. An older couple walking their dog tried to ask what the matter was, and whether they could help. But there was nothing they could do, and the yipping of the little white-haired brute, straining at the end of its lead, made the pounding behind my eyes even worse.
Chapter 3
My mother sat sipping at a cup of tea, the steam curling up from the white porcelain cup. It was black tea, with no milk or cream to spare to lighten it. Mother grimaced every time she took a sip of it, drinking it more from habit than anything else.
The cup tinkled against the saucer, the dark tea swirling inside and lapping at the rim as I barged in through the front door.
I knew I must have looked a wreck. The breeze had torn at my hair with wicked claws, and despite my best efforts, some small amount of moisture had escaped my eyes. They had puffed up to a blushed, red color as though I'd been twice stung by bees.
Mother put her fingers down on the lip of her cup, steadying it. A drop of black tea ran down the side of the porcelain and made a ring around the base of the cup. She frowned at me, bunching the wrinkles on her forehead together so that it looked as though someone had made a series of bloodless cuts.
Then she got up and came to me. "Eleanor, honey, what's the matter? Aren't you supposed to be at dinner with Jeffrey and his mother?"
I hated that word: "supposed." It carried in its meaning the manner in which things should be happening, but were not. I was supposed to be sitting down to a lovely, succulent ham. I was supposed to be spending the summer with Jeffrey, we were supposed to marry and have a family... But "supposed" seemed always to fly in the face of the actual course of events.
I shook again. My calves ached, the muscles tightened like a piano string from my more than brisk walk back home. Nor had I removed my shoes. Mother would be upset at tracking dust onto the floor, I knew. But at that moment, I didn't care.
"Jeff... Jeff received some awful news in a letter today. I excused myself so that he and his mother could have some time to comprehend it," I said.
"Really? How terrible. I've already eaten, but I can probably find enough in the kitchen for a serviceable meal. Come," mother said.
I yanked my hand away from hers. Her eyes widened and sh
e regarded me as though I'd slapped her.
"No, momma. I... I'm tired, that's all. I'm not hungry, either. In fact, I feel a little sick. I'm just going to nap."
I didn't know what dreams waited for me, but I knew that even my worst nightmare couldn't compare with the reality of my waking life at the moment.
"As you wish," mother said.
I knew she was upset that I hadn't shared the contents of the letter with her. She so loved a little snippet of gossip. The worse someone else's life seemed, the better she appeared to feel about her own.
The idea of sleep tugged at me, sapped the energy from my overexcited muscles. My calves burned as I mounted the stairs so that I had to haul myself up with the rail as my legs balked at the work. The boards creaked under my weight until I reached the top.
An old, greying rug with frayed edges ran down the length of the upper hall. Mother had an old Daguerrotype hanging on the wall directly in the middle, showing herself and her four brothers all in their gowns standing outside the farmhouse by New Hamburg where she'd grown up. Their eyes seemed to follow me as I slumped my way to the far door and pushed it open.
My bed had four high posts, and a maroon canopy hung down from them. The shadowy depths inside hid the quilt covering the spread. My window had been shut most of the day, and the sun shining in had heated the small, rectangular space of my bedroom oppressively.
I didn't care. I kicked off my shoes. They clattered against one another in the corner. I pressed my face into my pillow and let out the scream that had been building inside me since Jeff had announced his intention to allow himself to be drafted.
With that, all the strength leaked from my body, spent in the down of the pillow.
I slept.
Chapter 4
The Saturday morning sun glared in through the gaps in the drapes. I awoke with a headache and a series of cramps throughout my body. My dress had twisted about my legs, binding them together. I had to unclench my hands from around their handful of quilt.
