Dreams and Promises: Love, Loss and Redemption in a Land of Infinite Promise

by Anna Markland

  He heard her take a breath and wondered if she was as anxious as he. “I’ll still have chores to do,” he added. “But otherwise we’re free.”

  She was still a moment. “What are the chores, then?”

  “The horses, and there are some chickens and geese now—I figured we’d need eggs. I’ve got a couple of pigs. I planted a bit of a garden just to get started. Might need to water it, depending on the weather.”

  “So not a real holiday, is it?” She giggled and he smiled in the coming darkness. Her sense of humour suited him, not too serious, sometimes silly, but always lighthearted.

  Emily dozed beside him, and Shane soaked up the feel and smell of the land. The isolation fed him in some way—even as it was broken up by family get togethers and events such as his wedding. He belonged on the prairies. And now, with a wife at his side…

  Some time later the horses sped up, obviously smelling the barn. “Here we are,” he said, tugging on the reins to turn into the drive as Emily stirred in her seat. It was hard to see in the gloom, the little house on one side, the barn and sheds looming on the other. He stopped the horses and climbed down, tying them to a post in the yard.

  Reaching up, he helped his wife down from the wagon. “Welcome home.”

  CHAPTER 7~THE WAR

  Shane hustled Emily into the house and lit a lamp on the kitchen table. Then he stood back with pride to watch as she looked around. There wasn’t much to see. The windows were in, although not caulked yet. The kitchen had a counter and dry sink against one wall. A wood-burning cook stove he’d gotten from a family that was moving back east was situated against another wall. The stove had a reservoir for heating water, and a chimney that extended through the roof overhead.

  There was a table and two chairs. They would need more but he hadn’t found them yet. Hopefully she understood it was a work in progress.

  He’d built three rooms, hoping there would be need of them. They’d have their own bedroom and one for the future if they were blessed with children. Lewis and Jane had not been so lucky, but Joe and Annie had followed along the family trend with their six, going on seven, offspring.

  The rooms did not yet have doors, they were just open spaces facing the main room. It would be easier to heat the place, and for now it was all they needed.

  In their bedroom, at least, he’d managed some furnishings. A large double bed stood against the back wall, a new mattress delivered by Canadian Pacific Railway laid out on the springs. Her gaze landed on the bed and lingered uncertainly. Shane moved forward and wrapped his arms around her waist. “I’ll get your trunk,” he said. “And the food. Then I can put the horses away and be back in a jiffy. Do you want some tea? I can start the stove.” He held his breath, thinking it would delay getting her into bed by an interminable amount of time.

  “Oh, no,” she said. “That’s a lot of work for a cup of tea. We’ll have it in the morning, won’t we? I just need to wash up.”

  He let his breath out and hugged her against him. “I won’t be long. There’s water in the bucket over there, and some in the reservoir that might be warmer. We’ll figure a better system before winter.”

  She turned to him with a beaming face, and his heart rolled over awkwardly in his chest. He kissed her, the way he’d longed to since the moment she walked into the church that morning, so beautiful in the pale blue gown. This woman was his wife, he just had to get used to the idea.

  “The house is wonderful, Shane,” she said, emotion making her accent especially strong. “You’ve worked very hard, haven’t you? We can make a good home here.”

  “Yeah,” he nodded, his throat tight. “We can.”

  ~~*~~

  While her husband was gone, Emily quickly disrobed and washed in the tepid water from the reservoir. There was a bar of dish soap, and one towel that she found hanging on the back of a chair. She didn’t mind, there would be time to sort out things like that. But her trunk was still in the wagon.

  She donned her slip, folded her clothes and piled them on a chair, then slid under the sheet. She was tense, and the longer she lay there, the worse it got. As a married woman, she knew a husband would have certain expectations that she wasn’t totally familiar with. How should she handle this? The pressure mounted.

  Shane soon returned, bursting through the door with a box of food in his arms. Then he went back out for her trunk. When it arrived, she crept to the foot of the bed, holding the cover to her chest. “I need my nightie, it’s in the top drawer.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said, stripping his shirt off and giving her a grin as he poured water into the basin. “You won’t need it.”

  No, of course not. She took in his broad shoulders roped with muscle, and heavy back as he sponged off. Then he blew the lamp out and shed his underwear as he climbed under the covers. He reached for her.

  Emily’s breath left her lungs as his hand found her breast and caressed her skin. Shane kissed her till she forgot her worries and fears. Rising above her, he made a place for himself between her legs, conducting a slow invasion that overcame her resistance. Soon she wasn’t thinking at all, submerged in the heat and slide of their mating. The release was overwhelming, leaving her languid in his arms.

  She woke to the sound of a rooster crowing. She was warm, wonderfully warm, and a thick arm was draped across her hip. She gave a start, then remembered where she was. She was married, and this was her husband. There was such comfort—in the winter she would never be cold. Nor would she feel alone.

  ~~*~~

  Emily threw the vegetable peelings to the pigs, then took her basket into the shed. She was getting accustomed to married life. Shane was patient and loving. She felt spoiled by all the work he did, and tried hard to contribute her share.

  Putting her basket down, she gathered eggs from under the broody hens, aggressively shooing the geese out so she could collect their large greenish lightly-speckled eggs.

  Annie had given birth to her seventh child in late September. Joe was ecstatic, a little girl to be a companion for Betsy, as the rest of the brood were boys. His wife took some days to get back on her feet, and Emily and Mrs. Narraway had both spent time at their house caring for the children and looking after the mother. It had been fun, if tiring. Emily was expecting already, although they hadn’t divulged that to the family yet.

  Word from the war front was discouraging. The Allied forces were making gains throughout France, retaking territory from the Germans on an almost daily basis. But it was also reported that an influenza epidemic was sweeping through the European theatre of war, killing many who had survived the fighting. There had been one letter from Jake to his mother, most of the lines he’d written blacked out, but the family was reassured by the news that he was back in Britain recuperating from a leg wound.

  Emily straightened to stretch her back. Winter was here, although folks said it had arrived early. She tightened her coat around her thickening middle and hurried across the yard. Firewood was piled three deep against the barn, as high as the eave. Shane had worked extra long gathering wood for the winter, knowing she would worry if it didn’t appear to be enough to see them through the cold months. She smiled to herself. He looked after her, and it warmed her heart to see it.

  Threshing had gone well. The brothers, with help from Lewis who’d come out from town to work with them, had just managed to get the harvest in on all the farms before the snow arrived. Save for what was needed here to feed the animals, the wheat was stockpiled in the grain elevators beside the CPR station in town. Much of it would soon be shipped to eastern Canada and then on to Britain.

  She heard a shout and stopped in her tracks, turning to see Joe gallop up the drive. Shane emerged from the barn at the sound, and hurried over to stand beside her as his brother approached.

  “What now?” he muttered. “Don’t tell me…”

  Joe stopped so suddenly his horse reared on its hind legs before it shied to a halt. “It’s over,” he yelled. “The war’s over
!”

  Emily felt a jab of pain in her chest as her heart jumped in joy. The war was over! Shane grabbed her and twirled her in an excited jig before running to yank his brother off the horse and seize him in a bear hug.

  She laughed, her head thrown back. The conflict was over. Her child would be born into a peaceful country, with no more fighting, no more war.

  CHAPTER 8~SPANISH INFLUENZA

  Christmas came and went and still no word from Jake. Then after the new year, a telegram for Joe Sr. arrived at the post office in town. Jake had been injured again in the last days of fighting. He was convalescing in a hospital outside London and would let them know when he set sail for home.

  There was general rejoicing. Lewis and Jane came from town to see the folks, and Mrs. Narraway hosted a family dinner. Emily and Shane arrived in the buckboard, bundled to their chins in blankets.

  Shane shook the snow off his coat and hung it on a hook by the front door. “Brrr.” He rubbed his hands together, and hung Emily’s coat beside his. “It’s cold out there. Must be thirty below.”

  His father raised a brow. “At least, son. Probably closer to forty.” They wandered off with a lantern to examine the thermometer Dad kept on the back porch.

  Diane wrapped an arm around Emily’s waist. “How are you feeling? Still doing well?”

  She blushed, but managed a smile. “Yes, I feel fine. I’ve been lucky, I have, to escape morning sickness all this time.”

  “Well, don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched,” Mrs. Narraway laughed. “You’re going to need all that energy when the child comes. You have no idea.”

  Emily patted her bulge, feeling the baby kick under her hand. “I know it, don’t I? When I see what Annie does, I wonder how she manages it all.”

  Just then Annie burst through the door with the youngest child in her arms. The rest trailed behind, Joe trundling them into the house with Thom following.

  Emily rushed to take a look at the little face. “She is so cute. Can I hold her?”

  Annie nodded and handed her over. “You can hold her all evening. Joanie’s an attention hound. Isn’t she, Betsy?”

  The little girl grinned shyly. “She likes to look at me and smile,” she said. “I think she knows who I am.”

  “I’m sure she does.” Emily brushed a wisp of light brown hair from Betsy’s cheek. “She’s lucky to have an older sister to help look after her.”

  After the meal, the family relaxed around the living room, catching up on each other’s lives. Emily hadn’t seen Jane for several weeks, and they shared the task of holding the baby as they exchanged news. “Did you hear about Ada Arnold?” Jane asked. “I’m not sure what happened, but the doctor was called. Her husband couldn’t wake her up at first.”

  Emily’s heart jumped to her throat. Was that the effect of the laudanum? The woman had been in so much pain, she’d sometimes begged for the release those drops could bring. Perhaps Mr. Arnold had been right to keep the medication out of reach of his wife, after all. Her opinion of Mr. Arnold softened at the news, even as she mourned Ada’s lingering discomfort.

  By the time Joe was getting the kids ready to leave, Annie said she didn’t feel well. Emily hurried to get Joanie into her wraps and laid her gently in the mother’s arms. “Take care. Let me know if you need anything. I’ll come right over.”

  Annie patted her shoulder. “You wouldn’t want to catch this, I’m sure. Jane tells me there is influenza going around in town, so stay away for a few days and let me get over it first.”

  As Shane hustled Emily into her coat, Jane came to give her a hug. “The influenza is really bad this year,” she noted. “Maybe it’s the same type they had in Europe last fall, because someone has already died in town. A healthy young man, very unusual to succumb so quickly to such an illness.”

  ~~*~~

  The next day, Joe knocked on their door and Shane pulled it open. “Good timing, brother,” he said. “We’re just sitting down to lunch. Why don’t you come in and join us?”

  Joe stepped inside and shut the door, shaking his head. His face looked gaunt. “I’m wondering if Emily can come. Annie’s really sick and the little ones need some care.”

  Emily stood from the table. “Of course, let me get my coat, then.”

  He gave a ragged sigh. “Eat your lunch first. You’ll need the energy.”

  Emily gathered a loaf of bread and cold meat together, then packed a change of clothes. “You never know,” she said to her husband as he watched her place items in a bag. “I may need to stay a few days.”

  “Right. I’ll come see you after the chores tonight.”

  “I’m not sure.” She frowned. “It gets dark so early…”

  “I’ll come and see you,” he growled.

  “All right, then.” She stood on tiptoe to kiss him, then pulled her toque over her ears. “I’m ready, let’s go.”

  Emily arrived at Joe’s place to find the two youngest children in tears, and Betsy pouting in the corner. “It’s okay,” she said, rounding them up and seating them at the table. “I’ll stay until your mother is feeling better, won’t I? Here, I brought some lunch, and we can have hot tea—even Oliver can have some.” Slowly the household calmed.

  Joe went out to do chores and bring in more firewood, and Emily spent as much time as possible tending Annie. She bathed the woman’s forehead and encouraged her to swallow some aspirin, when she wasn’t calming the baby and trying to get Joanie to nurse.

  When Shane arrived that night, Emily poured him a coffee from the pot on the stove and sat him beside Joe at the table. “I need help,” she said, pulling up a chair. “Annie is seriously ill, much sicker than even today when I arrived. I wish you’d send for your mother. I’m sure she knows much more than I about how to deal with this. As it is, the baby is nursing, but Annie is losing her milk. We need something to feed the little one.”

  Joe went in to sit with his wife, while Shane put his coat back on and went out. An hour later he returned with a bottle of milk in his hand. Emily met him at the door.

  “Oh, milk. That’s a help. Can Diane come tomorrow?”

  At the sound of their voices, Joe emerged from the bedroom. “Is Mum coming?”

  Shane shook his head, his gaze meeting his brother’s. “Mum’s sick. Dad’s afraid to leave her, he’s never seen her like this.”

  They stood together in silence for a moment. Then Joe gestured toward the bedroom. “I’ll stay with Annie for a while.”

  Shane nodded, and gave Emily a hug. “I’ll head home, get the chores done first thing in the morning then go into town. I’ll bring the doctor back with me as fast as I can.”

  By the time Shane returned with the doctor the next morning, Annie was dead. Even with medical attention, Diane Narraway died later that night.

  CHAPTER 9~BURY THE DEAD

  The funeral was a bleak affair. The women were to be buried together in the family plot behind the parents’ house. Joe and Annie’s little boy had been the first to be interred behind the low fence several years ago, and now there were two more graves to dig.

  Shane and Joe worked all morning getting the ground ready, hacking at the frozen dirt with a pickaxe and scooping out the crumbling soil, while Thom travelled from farm to farm doing the chores and feeding the animals. Emily stayed at Joe’s to look after the children.

  When Jane and Lewis arrived at the farm, the women prepared the bodies for burial, washing each tenderly and dressing her in a soft gown. The bare board coffins, made by Thom in his shop, had been lined with bedsheets.

  Shane thought his heart would break with the loss. Seeing his father and brother in such a sorrowful state was devastating. Joe didn’t speak, just chopped at the solid ground with furious intent until finally exhaustion set in. He sat down suddenly on the snow and stayed there, silent tears trickling down his face.

  Shane marched across and sat beside his older brother, not knowing what to do. In the silence, the magpies screamed from
the nearby trees. Joe bellowed at them and hurled his axe as far as he could, then bowed his head in sorrow. As his back heaved, Shane laid his arm around his shoulders and leaned in to press against his side.

  “Hang on, big brother,” he said. “God has a plan. Hang on.”

  The sobs slowed, then finally stopped. Joe pulled away and stood, brushing his pants off. “We’d best get this finished,” he said gruffly, gesturing at the second cavity in the ground. “The funerals are tomorrow.”

  “Yeah.”

  Thom appeared, shovel in hand. “I’ve got three hours,” he said. “Then I have to leave for the chores. We don’t want Dad’s heifer to dry up, the baby needs milk.”

  They worked in total silence.

  ~~*~~

  The church pastor arrived in his buggy, accompanied by his wife and daughter. A few folk from town made the trip out. They brought word that many were sick with influenza and unable to attend. Father was back on his feet, thinner than ever, face pale. He’d fallen sick right after Mother, and was now able to get out of bed. But he was gripped by a constant shiver that wasn’t appeased by more scarves, mittens, or shawls.

  The reception at his house was subdued, food laid out on the kitchen table by neighbours and family. Joe’s children were quiet, even with Jane and Emily sitting with them. The baby cried, and Emily held her most of the time.

  Shane watched his wife as she mothered the little ones, then looked at Joe’s defeated expression. What now? They’d better have a family talk because no farmer could mother seven kids while doing his work—especially when the youngest was only three months old. Judging by Emily’s preoccupation with the baby, she probably wasn’t going to stay at Joe’s anyway.

  He laid a hand on Jane’s shoulder. “Would you come and talk with us? I think we need to discuss what’s going to happen now.”