They had managed time together for only a few days here and there since, because of his infrequent days of leave. Both of them had prayed for the war’s end, and the opportunity to begin their lives together.
Robert and his fellow soldiers returned home almost immediately, but Sally and other war brides waited for their passages to be arranged and paid for by the Canadian government. Sally was so thankful that Robert had been granted permission to marry her. Otherwise, too poor to finance her own passage, she would never have seen him again.
“Cal…ga…ry,” called the now familiar conductor’s voice.
Sally’s heart leapt. Finally, her journey was drawing to an end and she would be reunited with Robert. She gathered up her purse and shuffled along the train’s narrow aisle, walking toward her new life with her husband. She couldn’t wait to see Robert, brimming with eagerness to tell him all her news.
Sally located her luggage and scanned the large crowd for her husband.
“Waiting for your husband, are you?” A decidedly pregnant young lady with a Cockney accent stood beside her.
Sally smiled. “Yes, I am. You too?”
“My Willy should be along anytime now. He told me he’d be waiting with open arms.” The young mother-to-be smiled.
“Robert told me the same thing,” laughed Sally. “It’s been the longest three months of my life since he left England.”
“There he is. Willy, I’m here!” She waddled across the platform to meet her husband, embraced him, and they disappeared into the gathering crowd.
“Are you Sally Clark?” An attractive older lady wearing a trim fitting, floral dress and a wide-brimmed straw hat approached Sally. The fashionable woman slid a small white purse onto her arm, whipped off one of her white gloves, and extended her hand.
“Yes, I am,” replied Sally, hearing the trepidation in her voice while she instinctively reached for the stranger’s hand.
“I’m Dorothy Clark…Robert’s mother.” Mrs. Clark shook Sally’s hand.
Sally looked down at her disheveled clothing and felt certain her hair looked unkempt from her journey. In her eagerness to reunite with Robert, she’d forgotten to check her appearance while still aboard the train and to apply her prized Max Factor lipstick before meeting her new family.
Mrs. Clark stood with ramrod straight posture. At exactly five foot eight, she was eye to eye with Sally. Salt and pepper hair peeked out from under Mrs. Clark’s hat, and her flawless complexion belied her age. If she was Robert’s mother, she must be at least fifty or older. Sally caught a glimpse of sadness behind her mother-in-law’s piercing blue eyes. Was the woman disappointed in her son’s choice for a wife?
Sally straightened her spine, silently vowed to win the woman over, and smiled. “I’m so pleased to meet you. Robert has told me all about his family.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sally. Robert told us about you, too,” whispered Mrs. Clark.
Suddenly, a tall man grabbed Sally’s suitcases. “Beg pardon, sir! Those are my bags!” Sally shouted and reached for the handles on the suitcases containing all of her worldly goods.
“It’s all right, dear.” Mrs. Clark patted Sally’s arm and then hooked her hand around the gentleman’s elbow. “Please excuse my manners. This is my husband, Alexander.”
Sally felt her face redden. She shook hands with her father-in-law who was smartly dressed in a brown suit and striped tie. He certainly didn’t look the part of the farmer Robert had described. Or was Robert’s brother the farmer? Her mind still felt muddled from the days aboard ship. Had Mr. and Mrs. Clark donned their Sunday best just to meet her at the train?
“I’m very pleased to meet you, sir. I apologize for shouting at you.”
“Easy mistake. Think nothing of it. How was your journey?” asked Mr. Clark.
“Please don’t ask. You won’t approve of the answer.” Sally smiled, remembering her oath to throttle the next person to inquire about her seasickness. She glanced behind her father-in-law and then met his dark gray eyes. “Where’s Robert? Didn’t he come with you? Was he too busy with the farm?”
“Let’s sit down over here, where we can discuss this in private.” Mr. Clark motioned toward a painted wooden bench leaning against the railway station ticket office.
Mrs. Clark reached for Sally’s hand, led her there, and they settled themselves together on the bench. Her mother-in-law’s hands trembled while tightly clasped around Sally’s own hand like a lifeline in a raging storm. Sally caught a glimpse of that same storm raging just behind Mrs. Clark’s hollow eyes, and the dark circles beneath hinted that something had been seriously troubling her for a time. Mrs. Clark released her hand and dug a beautifully embroidered handkerchief out of her purse. She dabbed at the tears welling in her eyes, sniffled, and delicately wiped her nose.
A shiver of apprehension raced up Sally’s spine. Whatever her in-laws wanted to discuss in private, she thought, it wasn’t going to be good.
Mr. Clark set her bags down on the wooden platform, and Sally noticed the slight tremble in his hand as he struck a match and lit a cigarette.
“What’s wrong? Why didn’t Robert come?” whispered Sally, feeling the blood drain from her face.
She closed her eyes, fighting back the stab of pain piercing her heart. Surely, her husband hadn’t changed his mind about their marriage? Robert’s promise to meet her at the train with flowers and a box of candy in hand rang in Sally’s ears. Had she not been seated, the realization that he hadn’t come to meet her would have brought her to her knees.
What if Robert didn’t love her after all?
What if his family had insisted on a divorce or an annulment when he returned home?
What would she do if Robert and his parents never wanted to lay eyes on her again?
She hadn’t the money to return to England, and her family certainly couldn’t afford her passage back home. How would she survive in this strange new country, alone? No husband, no money, no job. Tears blurred her vision. “Has Robert changed his mind? Doesn’t he love me anymore?” She choked out the words.
“Robert loved you dearly. You were all he talked about, since the day he arrived home.” Mrs. Clark patted her arm and tenderly brushed a strand of hair out of Sally’s eyes.
“Then where is he?” whispered Sally. A shiver of dread raced up her spine.
“We decided it best to wait until you arrived and tell you in person.” Mrs. Clark’s eyes welled and her voice caught. She swallowed hard and then continued. “Robert is dead, dear. He was killed in a farm accident. He was plowing on a slope and the tractor rolled over onto him. He died instantly; he was never in pain. We buried him almost two weeks ago.”
Robert is dead.
Her mother-in-law’s words didn’t penetrate Sally’s brain for a minute. No, that couldn’t be; there must be some mistake. Robert survived the war, the mayhem and the killing. God had watched over him, returned him home safe and in one piece. God couldn’t be that cruel. How could Robert die in an accident on the farm that he’d been raised on and loved so dearly?
Sally’s vision narrowed as darkness crept around the edges, and the voices surrounding her faded into the background. She slumped against the slatted back of the bench, and then everything went black.
***
Sally heard muted voices calling her name from some distant faraway place. What did these people want?
Suddenly, she rallied, fully conscious. Her eyes remained closed, but she realized she must have fainted. Why were these annoying people bothering her? Didn’t they realize her life had just ended? Her worst fears had been realized. She’d been left totally alone, and Robert would never hear all the news she’d waited so patiently to tell him.
“Sally, dear, wake up. Sally, can you hear me?”
A horrible odor stung Sally’s nose, and her eyes popped open. “Take that vile smell away.” She sat bolt upright. A strange woman, still holding a bottle of smelling salts, stood beside Mrs. Clark. Sally�
��s head swam, and she felt as nauseous as she had on board the Queen Mary.
“I’m so sorry, dear. There was no easy way to tell you.” Mrs. Clark returned to Sally’s side, patted her arm.
“I’ve never fainted before in my life.” Sally rubbed her forehead.
“Our farm is a few miles outside of a small town south of the city. You’ve had a terrible shock, and we should get you home. You need a hot bath and a good night’s sleep.” Mrs. Clark hoisted Sally to her feet while Mr. Clark stubbed out his cigarette with his boot.
Sally gaped. “You intend for me to come home with you?”
“Well, of course, dear! You’re Robert’s widow. Did you think we’d just leave you here at the station? You’re a member of our family now.” Mrs. Clark steered Sally toward a large black automobile.
Unable to process what was happening, Sally stumbled along beside her as obediently as a newly adopted puppy while Mr. Clark grabbed her bags and tramped along behind.
***
When they arrived at the farm Mr. Clark dug her bags out of the backseat of the car. He turned to Sally and beamed. “This homestead is almost one hundred years old, although it’s small by local standards.”
“I was raised in the city of London, and I can’t wrap my mind around the seemingly endless acres of planted fields you’ve shown me.” Sally’s heart was breaking, learning that Robert was dead. But she straightened her spine, dried her tears, and attempted to demonstrate enthusiasm for Mr. Clark’s commentary on the farm of which he was so obviously proud.
“We have fifty head of cattle grazing in the pasture, a dozen pigs in that outdoor pen attached to the red barn, and Mrs. Clark has hundreds of chickens roaming the farmyard. She can’t start her day without a poached egg every morning.” Mr. Clark winked at his wife. “She sells the eggs we can’t use to the neighbors and some folks in town, too.”
“And I make a tidy sum from it. The money helps to keep me in wool and knitting needles.” Mrs. Clark charged through the covered porch attached to the two-story farmhouse, and Sally followed her into a sunny country kitchen. She caught a glimpse of the pantry and laundry room while her mother-in-law continued on into the slightly cluttered but homey living room.
“Oh my, that couch looks inviting after that endless trip,” Sally muttered, running her hand along the side of the armchair upholstered in a plaid material. A mahogany dining room set stood in the far corner.
Mrs. Clark explained, “There are four large bedrooms upstairs and a makeshift bathroom for winter use. We have electrical service but no running water. How about I brew you a cup of tea and get a little something into your stomach before your bath and nap?”
“Don’t go to any bother on my account.”
“No bother at all.” Mrs. Clark waved away her concerns.
“That would be very kind of you and greatly appreciated.” Sally managed a smile.
They returned to the kitchen, and Mrs. Clark pointed out the window. “The outhouse is hidden in that far clump of bushes over there. It’s a small blue building. You can’t miss it.”
Sally visited the outhouse, washed up in the porch, and then pulled out a kitchen chair from the round pine table covered with a red gingham tablecloth. She seated herself, squinting from the mid afternoon sunshine streaming in through the west window. “Your home is lovely, Mrs. Clark. I’m certain I’ll enjoy living here.”
Mrs. Clark placed a cup of tea and a buttered scone in front of her, and Sally devoured it in a minute. Thankfully, she’d overcome her seasickness during the journey west.
“This is my other son, James, but everyone calls him Jimmy,” said Mrs. Clark when a tall young man, the spitting image of his father, kicked off his boots at the door, slipped into the kitchen.
“You must be Sally, Robert’s wife…widow.” Jimmy reddened with embarrassment at his slip and stuck out his hand. “I’m pleased to meet you at last.”
“Pleased to meet you, too.” Sally quickly shook hands with Jimmy and then stuffed her hands into her pockets. “I do recall Robert mentioning a brother back on the farm.”
“Jimmy was exempt from war duty and remained at home to oversee the family farm while Robert, being the oldest, went off to war.” Mrs. Clark refilled Sally’s teacup.
“Robert described you so well, and he spoke about you so much, I feel like I know you.” Jimmy Clark smiled and met his mother’s eyes. “Got a cup of tea for me?”
“Of course, son, let me get you a cup.” Mrs. Clark fetched and filled another teacup and set it in front of Jimmy who’d taken a seat across from Sally. “I’ll get you a scone, too. No doubt you’re hungry after putting up hay all afternoon.”
“I see a strong resemblance. But your hair is a little lighter, and Robert never grew a mustache. At least, not during the time I knew him.” Sally’s voice caught and she forced back her tears.
“After the war ended, my sons intended to share the farm work, but once again it has all fallen squarely on Jimmy’s shoulders.” Mr. Clark stepped into the kitchen and threw his arm around his son. “The family is carrying on as best we can.”
“Let’s see about that hot bath and I’ll show you to Robert’s old room. I’m afraid it’s all that’s available since my sewing machine is set up in the spare room. I’m in the middle of a major project for the church, and I can’t find the bed at the moment.” Mrs. Clark chuckled but Sally caught the sympathy in her eyes.
“That’s fine. I don’t mind.” The idea of sleeping in Robert’s bed sent a sudden shiver of yearning for him through her body. Perhaps she’d find solace in the room.
“You must be exhausted after your long journey. Jimmy will carry up a few pails of hot water for a bath.” Mrs. Clark hooked Sally’s arm and headed toward the narrow set of stairs leading to the second floor. “I hope you’ll soon feel at home here. I’m so sorry Robert wasn’t able to…”
“I understand his death is just as hard on you, Mrs. Clark.” Sally smiled weakly. “And I haven’t even extended my condolences to you or Mr. Clark or Jimmy. Please excuse my bad manners, but I’m still in shock.”
“Totally understandable, my dear. Give it some time. We’ll survive this if we stick together.” Mrs. Clark patted her arm. “You’re family, Sally. If you need anything, please just ask.”
An hour later, Sally was bathed, dried and powdered. Her towel-dried hair hung in a single braid down her back, and she smiled recalling how Robert loved to run a brush through her long locks. She donned the nightgown Mrs. Clark had dug out of her suitcase before ordering her daughter-in-law to take a much needed nap. Sally warned her mother-in-law she might not wake up again until morning, and Mrs. Clark assured her that would be fine. Sally heard a commotion through the closed bedroom door coming from across the hallway; Jimmy was in the bathing room emptying the bath water.
Sally hung some of her clothes in the closet, sliding Robert’s things to one side. She closed her eyes and inhaled the familiar scent of spicy aftershave lotion on Robert’s white dress shirts which mingled with the outdoorsy aroma wafting from his flannel work shirts. Another bout of tears trickled down her cheeks while she tugged one of the dress shirts off the hanger and brought it with her into Robert’s bed.
“Oh, my darling. How will I ever survive without you?” she whispered heavenward.
In a minute exhaustion overtook her and she fell sound asleep.
***
Sally settled into a daily routine at the Clark farm, but she couldn’t get through a day without dissolving into tears. Her understanding mother-in-law spent hours each evening with her, sitting outside on the veranda, or knitting in the cozy living room parlor. Sally told Mrs. Clark about the day she met Robert, about their courtship, and their beautiful wedding. She told her about her family back in London and how much she missed them. Mrs. Clark regaled Sally with tales about Robert’s childhood, his ambitions, his kind heart, and his sad death. They’d spent hours gazing through photo albums, and Mrs. Clark showed her all of Robert’s
trophies earned in beef club, at first base on the baseball field, or scoring baskets on a basketball court.
Although it was unusual for a married woman to work outside the home, Mrs. Clark had stepped in as a substitute teacher until a suitable single girl could be hired for the small community nearby. To repay Mrs. Clark’s kindness, Sally spent her time cooking and cleaning, and weeding the garden.
Alexander Clark had injured his back years ago on the farm and turned it over to his sons. He owned and operated the lumberyard in the same nearby town, with a staff of able-bodied young men to help him. He ate lunch at the corner café every week day where he claimed he learned more about the goings on around town than he did reading the weekly newspaper.
That left Sally to prepare lunch for Jimmy. Although she felt nervous at first, left home alone with a strange man, Sally soon overcame her shyness toward Jimmy and enjoyed their daily conversations while he ate.
The gingham curtains ruffled in the breeze while Sally heated up homemade chicken noodle soup and prepared ham sandwiches for Jimmy’s lunch. She’d been on the farm for exactly two weeks already, and she couldn’t believe how quickly the time had sped by. She kept herself busy with chores every day, but the nights in Robert’s bed remained long and lonely.
At twelve o’clock sharp, Jimmy charged into the porch and splashed water into an old metal basin.
“It’s all ready,” Sally called over her shoulder.
“Always is,” he shouted back, washing up before eating.
Sally noticed he wore a different plaid shirt every day with well-worn denim trousers, and he always parked his mud-encrusted work boots at the back door. The thoughtful fellow she was becoming quite fond of pussy-footed it across the kitchen floor on sock feet and flopped onto a chair at the kitchen table. She smiled and placed his lunch in front of him.
“Eat up. I’ll be right back.” She blushed with the realization that Jimmy would deduce her destination was the outhouse.
WAR BRIDE Page 2
