by Beryl Young
The kids are clustered around the table.
“Run away and play,” Anna says. “Maggie and I are going to put Bella to sleep.”
“I’ll watch the girls,” Berny says. He picks Lucy up and leads Helen out the door. The screen door bangs, slap, slap, as they leave.
Up the narrow stairs, Anna shows me where the boys share a room. Across the narrow hall is a room where Lucy and Helen share a bed. Bella sleeps with Anna in another room. None of the beds are made, and the tin pail by the door of Anna’s room smells of dirty diapers.
Bella whimpers a bit while Anna changes her thin cloth diaper. I smile at Bella’s tummy bulging out like a soft little hill. Expertly, Anna wraps Bella in the yellow blanket Mom made. With just her head peering out, the baby looks like she’s inside a parcel.
“The blanket’s beautiful,” Anna says.
I sit on the bed and watch her pace back and forth, jiggling Bella in her arms until she falls asleep. Anna puts her down on the bed, and I bend over and touch her small hand. It curls around my finger again, as though she knows me, even in her sleep. Her ten tiny nails are like pearly drops of water.
I give Anna the school books with the note from Miss Alexander.
“I won’t have time to do school work,” Anna says, sliding them under the bed without reading the note.
“How long will you have to stay home to look after the baby?” I ask.
Anna’s eyes start to fill with tears. “Until Bella grows up … I guess.”
I move closer and touch her arm. “I’m so sorry about your mother. Can you tell me what happened?”
Anna
SATURDAY, APRIL 17
WE SIT ON the bed, and I take a breath. “Papa didn’t have time to go for the midwife because the baby came so quickly. She was already born when he woke up. Mama asked me to take care of the baby. I promised her I would.”
Maggie’s eyes are big.
“I was sitting right there beside Mama and I didn’t even know she was dead. I thought she was asleep.”
“Oh, Anna.” Maggie clutches my hand.
We look down at Bella lying on the bed. Her blue-veined eyelids quiver in her sleep. Every now and then her small lips tremble.
“Then Papa said he couldn’t manage six kids. I realized I’d have to be the mother in the family.”
I have never seen anyone’s eyes fill up with tears the way Maggie’s do now. They spill onto her cheeks like rain splashing off a roof.
I start to cry too. I can’t help it. I haven’t cried since that morning, but now I can’t stop.
We’re both crying, and I put my arms around Maggie. Her glasses have slipped down her nose and her tears are soaking my shoulder. When we finally stop, I feel exhausted, but not so alone.
I sit back and take a deep breath. “I feel so guilty, Maggie. I was with Mama when she died. I know I should have done something.” I stop to take another breath. “I didn’t think she’d die. I thought she’d get a good rest and then be up again. Like she was with the other kids.”
“You couldn’t have known, Anna.”
“I’ll never forget sitting there with my mother, not realizing she was dead.”
I can feel myself shaking, and I realize it’s cold inside the house. Just then I hear the squealing of brakes. Through the bedroom window I see Papa’s truck fishtailing out of the yard. He probably lost his temper with Maggie’s dad. Not a smart thing to do with an RCMP officer.
Maggie is wiping her eyes and doesn’t hear the truck. I’m glad. I sit back on the bed, and we stay there for a time, holding hands.
“I’ve got so much to do here, Maggie. Bella needs bottles night and day. I have to make breakfast and lunches and get the boys off to school. I’m the one who has to do the washing. There are so many diapers because Lucy’s still wearing them. The washer is in the shed at the back of the house and all the hot water has to be carried from the stove. Papa’s mostly out in the fields because some cows are still calving. He doesn’t always come home at night to help me make supper and put the little ones to bed.”
“It sounds like too much, Anna,” Maggie says.
She’ll never understand that this is my life now. Her life is so easy. Just homework and time to read. Time to be by herself. Her parents take care of everything else.
I hear someone on the stairs. It’s Lucy crawling up on her hands and knees. I pick her up and kiss her fat cheek. She sucks her thumb and leans into me.
“This one’s still a baby. She shouldn’t be on the stairs by herself, but I can’t always watch her.”
Maggie’s father is calling and we say goodbye. We’re both worn out.
Maggie
SUNDAY, APRIL 18, AND MONDAY, APRIL 19
I SLEEP RESTLESSLY all night, tossing around on the chesterfield. It’s still dark when I wake up, and I’ve wrapped my arms around the pillow, the way I wrapped them around Bella. I guess I dozed off, because there’s a pale light in the sky when I wake up to the shrill sound of a siren.
An ambulance has stopped at the side door of the barracks. The flaring light on the roof sends yellow circles across the yard. I jump out of bed in time to see two men hurry into the basement. They carry a stretcher to the side door, and a few minutes later they come out with a man lying on it. They slam the door of the ambulance and drive away.
Mom’s wearing her dressing gown when she comes into the room.
“Away from that window,” she says to me.
“Who is it?” I ask.
“The prisoner tried to kill himself. Dad says he’ll survive and they’re taking him to the hospital in Regina. When he gets out, he’ll go into a bigger prison there. Now get back into bed.”
Her voice is sharp. It feels as though I’ve done something wrong.
After Mom goes out, Tommy pads into my room in his bare feet.
“That was the murderer, you know,” I say.
“I heard Mommy.” He squirms with excitement. “I bet the guy hid the fork from his dinner tray under his mattress. Then in the middle of the night he stabbed himself in the heart twenty times!”
I am disgusted and roll over with my back to him.
“Bet I’m right,” he says as he pads back to his own room.
I have a sick feeling in my stomach about the prisoner. The poor man.
Later, Mom calls me to come into the kitchen. “Take the breakfast tray to your grandmother, please.”
As I reach to pick up the tray, Mom says, “I notice you never complain when you’re asked to do anything for her.”
I turn away. “You’re right. I don’t.”
Gram drinks the tea and eats a bit of toast while I tell her about the prisoner. “It’s heartbreaking,” Gram says. “There are things in this world we have a hard time understanding.”
“I need to tell you something else that’s hard to understand. My friend Anna’s mother died having a baby last week. Anna promised her mother she’d take care of the baby. And she has to cook and clean for everybody in the family.”
“That poor girl,” Gram says softly. She shifts in the bed and shakes her head. “It’s not right to expect Anna to carry that load. Is there no one else to help?”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “Her dad has to work around the farm and he’s in town all the time. A woman called Mrs. Covey lives close by, but she has children of her own. Anna knows it’s up to her.”
“That will be hard for a girl of her age,” Gram says.
“Well, she’s promised, and I know Anna, Gram. If she makes a promise, she’ll keep it. She’s like that.”
Gram gives me a hug. “You care about Anna, don’t you?”
“I do,” I say.
My grandmother truly understands me.
Gram says she plans to rest in bed all day. She likes to look out into the treetops. I like it too. When the sun filters into the room through the branches, my bedroom becomes a shady veranda. For the last few days, Gram hasn’t pinned her white hair in a swirl but has let lie
it loose on the pillow. It makes her look like an angel.
I hate to say goodbye when I leave for school.
It’s lonely without Anna in the class. In the afternoon, Carolyn gives out invitations to her birthday party next Saturday.
Carolyn always wears a bow in her hair. Today it’s yellow. She has a smug look on her face and what looks like a dandelion on her head.
“Coming to my party?” she asks as we go out the school door at the end of the day.
What can I say? All the other girls will be going, but I don’t want to. “Not sure,” I say as I keep walking.
Carolyn says, “You’re mad at me because I didn’t invite your best friend, aren’t you?”
I don’t say anything. Anna’s not in school these days. Even if she was invited, she couldn’t get into town on a Saturday.
Carolyn hurries along behind me. “I hear she’s stuck out on the farm looking after the baby.”
“I’ve seen the baby,” I tell her. “She’s adorable.”
“You’ve been out to Anna’s farm?”
“My dad took me on the weekend, and I got to feed the baby. By the way, Anna wouldn’t come to your party. She has responsibilities now. She doesn’t have time for parties.”
I turn toward the barracks hill. “I might have to be with my grandmother on Saturday. I’ll let you know.”
Carolyn turns down her street without saying another word, her chin leading the way.
When I get home, Mom says Gram is sleeping and tells me not to go into her room. Tommy and I sit at the kitchen table eating cookies.
“Wanna hear my new joke, Maggie?” he says.
“No, I don’t.”
“I’ll tell you ’cause it’s short.” He’s spraying cookie crumbs out of his mouth. “Why does an elephant wear red nail polish?”
“I don’t know and I don’t care.”
“I’ll tell you anyway,” he bursts out. “An elephant wears red nail polish so he can hide in a cherry tree!”
His snickering is too much.
“Scram,” I say.
“That’s no way to talk to your brother,” Mom says. “And, Maggie, when you go in to see Gram, please don’t sit on the bed. Your grandmother’s having trouble getting comfortable.”
I’d noticed that too. I tiptoe into the bedroom to see if Gram’s awake. She is, and I pull up a chair beside her.
I show Gram the scarf I’ve finished making. “I don’t know what I was thinking. Who needs a wool scarf in May? Maybe one with holes would be perfect for a hot day!”
I count on my grandmother to laugh at my joke, and she does.
I put my head down beside her on the bed and she runs her fingers slowly through my hair. It makes my head feel heavy and dreamy. Only one person in the world can make me feel like that.
GRAM’S NOT HUNGRY, but she has a few spoonfuls of soup for supper. Later we decide I’ll read Thumbelina to her. We both love the story of little girl who floats down the stream in a walnut shell boat.
“Your voice is very expressive, Maggie,” Gram says. “You could read to Tommy sometime.”
“I’d rather read to you.”
Gram falls asleep before I finish the story. I leave quietly so I don’t wake her.
Dad’s in his armchair reading some reports. Even though I’m too big, I plunk myself down on his lap. “Dad, how did the prisoner try to kill himself?”
Dad shifts the papers so I’m not sitting on them. “That’s police business, Mags. Don’t worry your head about it.”
“But, Dad, he must have felt terrible about murdering his wife and his baby. So terrible he tried to kill himself.”
I’d be in big trouble if I told Dad I’d gone to the cells and heard the man crying.
Dad lifts me off his lap. “The man’s probably mentally ill,” he says. “Off you go now, Mags.”
I lie in bed and realize I don’t know anything about mental illness. I wonder if it means your mind is confused and you can feel two different things at the same time. I couldn’t be like that. To me, a thing is either right or wrong.
Anna
THURSDAY, APRIL 22
TONIGHT IS NOT a good night. Nothing seems right for poor Bella. Her face is red from screaming and she’s breathing too fast. A real mother would know what to do.
I don’t understand why Mama had to die. You have to expect your parents will die when they’re old, but Mama was only thirty-six. She told me she and Papa were in love and so happy to come to Canada. They had Joe right away, then the rest of us one after another.
I sometimes think of Mama like the painting of the Madonna and child in the chapel at church. The Madonna looks down in such a loving the way at the baby in her arms. We had love like that from Mama.
But what do you do when that love is gone? You’re lonely and your skin feels cold all the time.
I’m not strong like Mama, but I love Bella and all my family as much as she did. They need to be cared for and loved. I can do it. I will do it. I like to think that Mama is somewhere nearby watching me.
I rock Bella in my arms for hours tonight. This old house creaks in the wind, and my back is cold. In the middle of the night, I take her to the kitchen to heat up milk. I light the lamp and walk around the house.
This is my life. The beaten-up brown couch and the old armchair with the stuffing leaking out the back. The faded red carpet. The kitchen floor filthy because the kids spill food and I don’t have the time or energy to wash it.
About four o’clock, Boo wakes up and mews around my legs. I settle into the armchair, holding both the cat and Bella. His warm fur and beating heart seem to calm Bella. I stroke the cat and kiss my sister’s face. Out the window I watch the sky lighten from black to grey. The morning birds begin their chatter and there is a crescent of yellow in the sky toward the eastern fields. The sun is coming up on this sad day for us.
Mama’s funeral is this afternoon, and I want to make sure our family looks good. I clean up the girls and take my time brushing their hair. Helen squeals and ducks away from me when I try to get the tangles out of her hair. The girls’ dresses are clean, though they’re not ironed.
I decide to wear Mama’s best blouse with the lace collar. I take the white blouse from the drawer in my parents’ dresser. It’s cool and silky on my arms and has the spicy smell of Mama’s skin. I look at myself in the mirror. The blouse is too big for me and falls loosely over my shoulders. I would never look right in Mama’s blouse, but I need it today for courage.
I straighten my shoulders and do my hair in fresh braids, then pick up Bella and come down to join the boys and Papa who are waiting at the front door.
Papa has put on the white shirt he wears to sell cattle and his hair is slicked back over his forehead. He looks at the blouse but doesn’t say anything. The boys are stiff and nervous in their white shirts.
“You all look good. Mama would be proud of us,” I say.
The boys pile into the back of the truck and the girls ride with me in the cab. Papa takes a drink out of the bottle on the seat between us. No one says a word on the trip into town. Bella falls asleep before we reach the church.
The casket is on a stand near the altar, covered with a white cloth. Our family is shown to the front pew, with Papa, rigid and silent, sitting closest to the casket. I sit beside him, Bella asleep with her head against my shoulder. Helen and Lucy sit beside me next to the boys, who look scared.
I stare at the casket. Mama’s cold body is inside, so close to us. I have to push that thought out of my mind. I won’t think of it.
I remember Mama that last night with her eyes closed and her hands crossed on her chest. How can someone as real as my mother be put in the earth? I can’t let myself think about that. I want to remember the time we sat with her warm arms around me. “You are my strong one,” she told me.
The priest goes on and on, talking in Latin. Helen and Lucy are restless beside me. The priest sprinkles holy water on the casket and waves incense in the
air. Something wakes Bella and she starts to cry. She cries good and loud, as only Bella can.
Papa jumps up and snatches her out of my arms. He’s muttering under his breath as he stomps down the aisle with his head down. I turn and see everyone staring at him. The pounding of his boots echoes through the startled silence, followed by the bang of the outside door. I think I catch sight of Maggie in the back row.
Papa has left us alone in the church. We’re his children. He’s not here with us for his own wife’s funeral. How could he be so selfish? I put my arms around Helen and Lucy and pull them close.
Outside, after the service, Papa hands Bella back to me. She’s still crying. He looks sheepish as he shakes hands with a few people who’ve come to the service. Mr. and Mrs. Covey have come, and Miss Alexander too. That’s wonderful of her, and she gives me such a warm smile as she walks over to me.
“Your mother would be proud of you, Anna. I’ll bring out more school books so you can keep up your grade seven work. We can work together so you get credit for the year.”
I’m worried that she’ll get too close to Papa and smell liquor. “I’ll try, Miss Alexander.” I turn my attention to Bella, trying to settle her.
Papa’s made a bad impression. I can tell by the looks people give him. I’m ashamed for Mama’s sake. People will feel sorry for us.
There’s no sign of Maggie, and I hope she wasn’t there to see the way my father behaved. I don’t care so much about the others, but I want Maggie to think well of our family.
Maggie
SATURDAY, APRIL 24, TO MONDAY, APRIL 26
IT’S SATURDAY MORNING, and I bring breakfast to Gram in bed. She doesn’t touch anything but the tea. She sleeps all morning, and I decide I might as well go to Carolyn’s party. There’s no chance to tell Gram I’m going.
Like everyone else, I’m wearing my best dress and carrying a present when I arrive at the door of the big white house on Aspen. There’s a purple bow in the birthday girl’s hair today. The first thing she does is lead us into her bedroom to admire the horse posters on the wall. There’s a framed picture of her horse, Chester, on the dresser.
