by Nancy M Bell
“Everyone is in the living room. Come on, I want you to meet Taunte Mathilda and Onkel Jake. You already know Grosspape. Oh, it’s so good to have you home.” Sadie’s laughing voice faded as she towed Corny down the hall.
“The girl is surely excited to have the boy home and in one piece,” Ike remarked. “And not a word about Paraguay all the way home.”
“That’s a mercy. I’ve heard enough talk about moving away for one night,” Elsie replied, forgetting for a moment Ike didn’t know about Sarah’s crazy idea.
He frowned down at her, bushy eyebrows beetling over those vivid blue eyes Elsie fell in love with so many years ago. Ike was still a fine looking man, she decided.
“Was there talk about the youngsters going to South America while we were gone?”
“No. Something else, I’m afraid. But I’ll tell you later. This isn’t the time, and it’s far too complicated to try and explain right now. I’m hoping it will come to nothing, but you never know.”
“Fine for now, but I want you tell me everything later when it’s quiet,” Ike agreed with marked reluctance.
“Come, let’s go join the rest of the family. It’s almost time for supper and Corny must be starved.” Elsie linked her arm with Ike’s and drew him down the hall into the living room.
* * *
Later, after those who were leaving had departed, and the others were safely bedded down, Elsie hugged her dressing gown tighter around her and stood by the bedroom window. The full moon’s light reflected off the mantle of snow covering the fields, etching distinct black shadows on the surface where the bare branches of the cottonwoods blocked the silvery illumination. It was a frigid night, which only made the stars more diamond bright in the sable velvet of the sky. The snow that had fallen earlier was dry and the moon woke rainbow sparks from the tiny crystals as they shifted in the slight wind that sighed around the eaves of the house.
The scene was so beautiful, and yet so deadly. The intense cold could kill a body in short order, and if any of the ewes lambed early, Ike would have to be sure they were kept warm. The cows hadn’t been with the bull until later, so there should be no early calves at least. The window of the chicken shed glowed a warm cherry red, colouring the nearby patch of snow a deep pink. The heat lamp Walter installed at Agnes’ insistence seemed to be working out well.
She turned her head at the sound of the door opening and Ike’s footsteps. The rustle and whisper of the bed clothes being turned back preceded the creak of the bedstead as he settled in.
“What are you looking at, Elsie.” Ike’s voice held the husky note of tiredness.
“The moon on the snow. It’s a beautiful night.” She smiled at him.
“It’s cold enough to freeze the breath in your nose out there.” He pulled the quilt up higher. “Come to bed, morning comes early.”
Elsie removed her dressing gown and hung it on the hook by the door. With one last glance at the wintry scene outside she pulled the curtains closed to block out the cold. She snuggled into the bed with a sigh.
“What did you mean earlier when you said you didn’t want to hear any more talk about people leaving?” Ike raised himself on an elbow and peered down at her in the dark. “I almost forgot to ask.”
Elsie wriggled up so she was propped against the head board and studied her husband’s face in the shadowy light. “Agnes and Sarah had a talk this afternoon.” She paused.
“And?” Ike prompted her when she remained silent for a long moment.
“Apparently she keeps in touch with that school friend of hers, you remember Mary, don’t you?”
“Of course, pretty little thing she was.” Ike nodded.
“Well, Mary and her family moved to Mexico, and now Sarah wants Arnold and her to do the same.”
Ike was silent for a long moment. Elsie noted the deep furrows in his forehead, accentuated by the faint light. For the first time it struck her that his age was showing. She always saw the young man she’d married when she looked at him, never acknowledging the wear and tear of the weathering of the years between then and now. In her heart they would both be forever young. But now, with one of her daughters, and one of her grandchildren, talking about moving away, for the first time in her life she felt old. Not old like Pape of course, but older than she’d ever felt before. It was not a sensation she enjoyed, she decided.
“Is Sarah really serious about such a thing?” Ike finally broke his silence. “Is Arnold in agreement?”
“I haven’t had a chance to talk to her myself, but Agnes says it all has to do with them not being able to start a family. Somehow Sarah has gotten it into her head that God is punishing her for something, and if she moves to Mexico and devotes herself to His work everything will work out as she wants. I’ll find time to speak with her in the next day or so, if you can have a word with Arnold and see what his thoughts are. I don’t have a good feeling about the whole thing, Ike. I really don’t.”
“She’s a woman grown, Elsie. Long past the time we can tell her what or what not to do.” Ike heaved a sigh and settled back onto the mattress. “I will have a word with Arnold though. See if he can provide some enlightenment.”
The bedstead creaked as he rolled over and the evenness of his breathing soon told Elsie her husband had managed to fall asleep. She wriggled down in the bed and pulled the quilt up to her chin. Try though she might it was a long time before she could compose herself to sleep.
* * *
With all the celebration and observances associated with the occasion, it was almost the new year before Elsie had a chance to speak with Sarah. The day was bitterly cold with a brisk north-west wind herding fleecy clouds across the brilliant blue fields of the skies. Even with the fire stoked in the stove and all the doors and windows prepared for the winter frigid fingers of ice snaked through unseen nooks and crannies wrapping around Elsie’s ankles and nipping at her fingers.
“More tea, Sarah?” Elsie rinsed out the pot and refilled it with hot water, adding loose tea before fitting the lid into place and slipping a knitted cosy over the pottery. The heat of the pot warmed her hands a bit. Setting the refreshed vessel on the trivet resting on the table between them, Elsie returned to her seat.
“Please, Mome. The winters seem to get colder every year. Goes right through to my bones.” Sarah gathered the woolen sweater closer around her thin shoulders. She glanced out the frost sparkled window toward the barn. “I don’t know how the men do it, out there doing chores.”
“God gives us the strength to do what we must.” Elsie tested the tea strength before refilling the two empty cups on the table. “He might test us, but He will never give us more that we can endure.”
Sarah’s gaze swung back to her mother. “How can you be so sure?”
Elsie hid her startlement at the question by concentrating on pouring milk into her tea. “I’m sure because it is His word. Christ died for us and will rise again at Easter with the promise of Everlasting Life. Surely you must know that if you search your heart. He is our foundation and our comfort.” She studied the younger woman’s face, searching for what she wasn’t sure. Acceptance of her words or at least the knowledge there were things that couldn’t be changed and must be learned to live with. What she found instead, did nothing to calm her worries.
Sarah took a sip of tea setting the cup back into the saucer with deliberate clink. She raised her gaze to meet her mother’s taking a deep breath before she spoke. “I know you don’t agree, but Arnold and I are going to move to Mexico in the spring. I’d go now to get out of this cold and away from the memories, but Arnold is right, travel at this time of year is chancy at best. Can’t you please try and understand how I feel? I just can’t stay here any longer…I don’t mean it like that Mome,” she said in response to Elsie’s hurt expression.
“How do you mean it then,” her voice was stiff in spite of her efforts to appear unmoved.
“It’s just…I don’t know…” Sarah got up and moved to the window, tu
cking her hands under her folded arms for warmth. “I feel closed in here, like I have no place where I can go and not feel like I’m being judged a failure as a wife. All those girls I went to school with…I can’t stand the pity in their eyes when I run into them in town trailing their brood of children behind them.” She whirled around, eyes wide and shimmering with tears. “Some of them have four toddlers and another one on the way…” Sarah’s voice faltered. “I can’t even give Arnold one child. What’s wrong with me, Mome? Why is God punishing me?”
“Sarah, I realize it must seem like that, but you know the doctor explained it’s the malaria causing the miscarriages, not anything you’ve done or not done.” Elsie attempted to soothe her.
“Why me?” Sarah cried, throwing herself back into the vacated chair. She put her head down on her crossed arms and sobbed.
Elsie moved around the table to sit beside her. She rubbed Sarah’s back and murmured soothing words until the thin shoulders ceased shaking. Agnes appeared in the doorway and halted, a shocked expression on her face. Elsie waved her away with her free hand. The shock cleared from her face to be replaced by sympathy. She nodded and withdrew, taking the little ones with her. Elsie glanced at the clock; no doubt the young ones were looking for their supper.
“There now, Sarah. You need to pull yourself together. Taunte Mathilda and Onkel Jake will be up from their nap soon, and it’s almost supper time. You don’t want the others to see you like this, do you?”
Sarah raised her head and wiped her eyes with a handkerchief dug from her sweater pocket. “You know I don’t. Pity is the last thing I want.” She sniffed mightily and went to splash cold water on her face. Turning back toward her mother, she leaned on the counter. “Can you understand why I feel I just have to get away from here? It will be better in Mexico, I just know it. Why, even you and Pape went to Paraguay in the twenties.”
“Which is where you caught malaria when you were just little. Do you not think I feel guilty about that when I watch you struggle with all this?” Elsie waved her hand at Sarah’s tear stained face. “A mother is supposed to protect her children, care for her family. If we hadn’t gone to South America would things have been different—”
“Or would God have arranged another trial for me? Is that what you’re trying to say?” Sarah cut her off.
Elsie sighed. “No, that’s not what I was going to say. I was only attempting to let you see that I feel responsible for your troubles, and it weighs on my heart. I pray to God every night to show me a way to make your load lighter, to help you find a way to be happy.”
“I have found a way, Mome. Arnold and I must go to Mexico. I’ve dreamed about it, it’s summer all the time, no snow, no wind, no freezing my nose off every time I stick it out the door. Mary says the community is strong and thriving.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “She told me in her last letter about a woman who hadn’t been able to carry to term who emigrated last year, and now she has a healthy baby.” Sarah looked up, a fervent light in her eyes. “That could be me by next fall. I know it. Don’t you see we have to go?”
“Have you talked to the pastor about this?” Elsie tried a different tack.
“Yes, of course. Arnold insisted, and I wanted to, of course. He said it was a wonderful thing that we wanted to help those who were already in Mexico and he thought our addition to the community down there would be a great asset. Arnold has already been asked to teach at the school,” she finished proudly.
Elsie’s heart shrank in her chest at the pronouncement. She had no idea the plans had progressed so far. “Do you have a place to live down there? When we went to Paraguay there was nothing but arid grassland and thorny bushes, we had to hack out a clearing and build a shelter on the land we bought. Have you looked into things like that? What about a water supply?”
“Oh, yes. Arnold’s taken care of all that. There’s close to forty-five of our villages in the Manitoba Colony which is where Arnold and I are planning on going. And I think Mary said about another eight or ten in the Swift Current Colony. She also mentioned a smaller daughter colony at the north end of the settlement. It’s a separate seventy-two-thousand acres they just purchased last year, so that landless young married couples from both colonies can settle there.” She paused. “She sent some pictures too. Each village has between ten to thirty families. The farm yards are arranged on both sides of a main street with fields for crops behind them. Every family gets a hundred and sixty acres and there’s a common pasture too.” She stopped and looked at Elsie with eyes bright with expectation and excitement.
It was the first time in months Elsie has seen Sarah look excited about anything. “Do you own the land, then?” She said the first thing that popped into her head. There was no point criticizing the plan when it was plain her daughter had already made up her mind. Perhaps it would be a good move for Sarah and Arnold. Maybe God did have his hand on them. Elsie could only pray that was the case.
“I don’t understand all the details, but I think the colony holds the paperwork. Every family purchases their land from the Oberschulze. He and another trusted man hold the documents for the large parcel and then the Oberschulze keeps a record of payments. When we’ve paid the agreed upon price, the land is ours.” Sarah stopped and frowned. “It’s not like here, where we have the papers that says the land is ours, in Mexico we won’t get any legal documents, but everyone Arnold has corresponded with assures him that the Oberschulze is an honest and trustworthy man and there’s nothing to worry about.”
“If you decided to come home, would you be able to sell your land, or mortgage it to someone?” Elsie searched her brain for bits and pieces of legalities she recalled Ike ironing out when they bought the land in Silberfeld which they still lived on.
“I don’t’ think so. Arnold will know. Anyway, it won’t matter,” Sarah’s declaration held a note of finality to it.
“What do you mean, it won’t matter? Money is hard to come by, you want to be sure you won’t lose everything.”
“Mome!” Sarah laughed. “I’m not going to move all the way to Mexico to turn around and come home.” Her voice softened, “I’m going to miss you and Pape, and everyone here. But I know in my heart this is the right thing for Arnold and me.”
“I just want you to be happy, Sarah. That’s all I ever wanted for all my children.” Elsie reached across the table and covered her daughter’s hands with hers.
“Good then, that’s settled. Now let’s get some supper on the table. The men will be coming in soon and no doubt they’ll be freezing. I hope the weather breaks soon. Anna said some of the eggs were frozen this morning when she went to feed the hens.”
Snow squeaking under heavy boots and the sound of male voices heralded the arrival of the men folks from the outside. The winter days were still short this soon after the equinox. The gradual lengthening of the daylight hours wouldn’t be apparent for a few of weeks yet. Already the sky was full of fading light, the orange and gold of the sunset reflecting on the cold shadowed rolling fields of white. Soon, the world would be painted in colours of silver and black, as the stars lit their candles in the deep royal blue of the heavens. Starlight reflected from the snow always provided a faint argent illumination, black and grey shadows fading to blue on the crests of the surrounding fields. Twilight was a special time for Elsie. The interlude between the chores of the day and what needed to still be done before retiring. A time when family gathered around the table to break bread and share the news of the day.
Even while her thoughts were elsewhere, Elsie’s hands moved swiftly to set the table in the dining room. With the extra company the kitchen table would be crowded and besides, it was still a time of celebration. Standing on the cusp with a new year stretching out before them, Elsie wondered what the coming months would bring.
Chapter Seven
Blizzard of 1947
Christmas celebrations were over and life settled into a comfortable rhythm for Elsie. The cold and snowy weather kept Ike i
n the house more than usual, and she enjoyed his company. The house often rang with the laughter of Agnes and Walter’s youngsters confined to playing indoors. Sometimes, laughter changed to tears and cries of childish frustration.
Imperceptibly the daylight hours lengthened although the sky was obscured by clouds most days. Ike declared it was one of the snowiest winters he could remember. Knee high paths cut across the yard from the house to the wood shed and the out buildings. It required daily work to keep them open, the ever present wind sending snow to drift into the depressions at a regular rate.
Elsie was glad of Walter’s presence to aid Ike with the never ending chore. Sarah was still a worry on her mind, always in the background even when she wasn’t consciously thinking about the imminent departure. In some ways the brutal weather was a blessing. Anxious as the couple were to get on their way the inclement conditions precluded any notion of an early departure.
The house wrapped its warm arms around her family and kept them safe. The end of January was almost upon them and Elsie looked forward to the approaching spring. She would plant some oat seeds in a small pot in the kitchen toward the end of February so she would have some growing on Easter weekend. It was a custom she picked up from her mother, who had learned it from her mother. Over the years the significance of the origin of the tradition was lost, but to Elsie is always signified the promise of new life and plenty. And wasn’t that what Easter promised as well? The Saviour’s trials and sacrifices so that His children could look forward to everlasting life in his Father’s House.
Her lips moved in the old familiar words. “Let not your heart be troubled. Ye believe in God, so believe also in me. In my Father’s house there are many mansions. If it were not so I would have told you. I go to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again, and receive you unto myself, that where I am, there ye may be also.” She skipped forward to the bit she liked the best. “Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life. No man cometh unto the Father, but by me.” The passage always evoked a sense of security and comfort in her heart.
