Lesia's Dream

by Laura Langston

  His voice rose, his eyes narrowed, he took a step forward.

  Heart pounding, Lesia fled.

  She didn’t stop running until she’d reached the protection of the trees. And she didn’t stop walking until she’d reached the dam.

  Angry and humiliated, she sank onto the ground beside the creek. How could people be so cruel? Where was the respect she had come to Canada to find?

  She stared at the dam, wishing she could break it into a thousand pieces, destroy it and all the hate and prejudice in the world at the same time.

  She didn’t dare.

  Did she?

  She glanced over her shoulder to make sure she was alone, removed her shoes and stockings and dangled her feet in the water. She didn’t have to destroy it, exactly. She edged closer, touching one plank experimentally with her toes. It gave way, bouncing back when she eased up on the pressure.

  Hiking her dress up to her waist, Lesia waded into the water, giving the bottom of the dam a sharp kick with her foot. Two branches moved. The left side of the dam slid down a few inches. There was a change in the current. The water was flowing through.

  But was the opening big enough for fish to get through?

  Reassuring herself that she was still alone, Lesia gave some of the lower rocks a hard kick. Craaack! The whole structure shifted slightly; she could feel the water flowing more strongly.

  She hurried out of the water, eyeing the dam critically as she grabbed her shoes and stockings, her two baskets. It didn’t look that different, not really, just a litde lower in the water, a little more uneven.

  Hopefully, the only ones to notice would be the fish.

  They ate fresh fish for several weeks. What they couldn’t eat, they dried and put up for winter. Mama grew more energetic, Sonia stopped whining, and Lesia went to bed at night with a full belly.

  By the beginning of July, however, the traps in the creek were suddenly empty and the fish stopped coming. The break in the dam had obviously been repaired. They were back to careful rationing and foraging, living on wild strawberries and gopher. Mama grew quiet; Sonia became fretful. Lesia worked the land by day and practised writing by night. Her bedtime came long after Mama and Sonia had fallen asleep. With her stomach cramped by hunger, she would pray for Papa to return … for bees to settle in the skeps. Only then would she shut her eyes and fall into a restless sleep. A sleep dominated by dreams of beloved Baba, whose arms overflowed with bread and milk and butter and eggs.

  “Look Lessie, wiggles!” Sonia giggled and held out a thick green worm.

  Lesia turned from the empty skeps to stare at the pale insect. It was the same worm that was munching on their cabbages. Yesterday, the leaves had been sturdy and upright. Today, they were ragged and fiali of holes.

  Bozhe! If the bugs destroyed the cabbages, they’d have nothing left for winter.

  “Here, darling. Play with this.” She handed Sonia a stick, and as soon as her sister was occupied, she took the worm and squished it under her heel. Then she bent down and searched through the damaged cabbage. She killed three more pale green worms.

  Like them, the garden was struggling to survive. Two weeks into July and there was no sign of relief from the hot summer weather. Not a cloud in the sky, not a drop of rain in sight. The water level in the creek was dangerously low. Drinking water was their first priority; watering the garden came second. The plants were stressed, and the bugs loved that.

  “Hungry,” Sonia whined.

  “Yes, I know.” She pulled off the damaged leaves and set them aside for soup.

  “Tummy hurts.” Sonia threw the stick on the ground and began to pout. “Want berries.”

  “We’ll go looking soon.”

  “Berries nooooooow! “The child started to cry.

  Lesia sighed. She was so used to the hunger pangs, she hardly felt them any more. Mama had stopped complaining as well. But not Sonia. Her litde sister was constantly hungry. To make matters worse, she also had a cold. And now Mama was complaining of a sore throat.

  “Come here.” She pulled Sonia towards her and wiped away her tears. “How about we play a game.”

  “A game?” Sonia looked suspicious.

  “You help me look for those litde green worms, and if we find lots, we’ll build them a litde house with sticks.”

  Sonia grinned. “Okay. They my friends, Lessie.”

  “You look now,” she encouraged. She wasn’t sure what she’d say in the morning when Sonia found the small green worms gone; today, she just needed to get them out of the garden.

  “Found one!” Sonia yelled.

  She watched her sister lay the offending green bug near the rest. Just then, Mama appeared in the clearing. She seemed to be struggling under the weight of the water cans.

  Lesia began to run. “I told you I would go for water,” she yelled.

  Mama shook her head slightly, opened her mouth to speak and then slowly crumpled to the ground. The tin cans flew out of her hands, spraying water in all directions.

  Lesia flew to her side. “Mama!”

  She had landed on her back. Water plastered her dress. Her round belly jutted into the air. Her face was potato white. Sooty black circles were etched under her closed eyes.

  “Mama! Mama?” Lesia touched her mother’s forehead. It was cool, not warm. Her chest was rising and falling. She was breathing. Bozhe! She was breathing.

  “Lessie, Mama okay?” Sonia called from the garden.

  “Mama’s fine, darling. You play now.” Papa, where are you when I need you!?

  After what seemed like an eternity, Mama opened her eyes. “I must have tripped,” she whispered.

  “You didn’t trip at all,” Lesia said fiercely. “You fainted. It’s the anaemia again, isn’t it?”

  Mama struggled to sit up but the baby set her off balance.

  “Don’t stand yet,” Lesia ordered. “Sit a while.” When the colour had finally returned to Mama’s face, she gently asked, “Is the baby okay?”

  “The baby’s fine.” Mama rubbed her belly reassuringly before grabbing Lesia’s arm and struggling to her feet. “Carrying a child has never been easy for me. And it’s harder still now. But there’s no sense complaining. Nothing can be done to change things. As God ordains, so it shall be.”

  Nothing can be done to change things. She had grown up with Mama saying those words. It may have been true in Ukraine, but it certainly wasn’t true in Canada.

  “You’re wrong, Mama.” She watched Sonia playing with her stick and the worms. “I can go to work plastering.”

  When Mama protested, Lesia held up her hand and stopped her. “Remember what Pearl said? When the weather turns cold, it will be impossible to travel the land and find work, never mind walk twelve miles to the store in Hazelridge. If I leave now, I can earn enough for flour and potatoes, maybe even a few eggs. I’ll take my baskets too. Maybe I’ll sell some.” Surely not everyone was like their neighbour.

  Mama looked panicked. “I need you here. There’s Sonia to care for. And I’m too weak to work the land.”

  Lesia laid a reassuring hand on her arm. “Rest. Sonia can rest with you. The land can wait. I’ve almost finished the third acre.” She hesitated. “You are weak, Mama. Maybe even too weak to give birth. We need to get you strong. If I leave in the next few days, I’ll be back by the end of July. With food! There’s no other choice.”

  Mama’s shoulders slumped. She looked defeated, beaten. She knew Lesia was right.

  Andrew showed up the day before she had planned to leave. Lesia had just finished watering the garden when she heard the clomp, clomp of animal hooves on packed earth. A wagon pushed through the scrubby bush. Mama rushed outside, waving her arms excitedly in the air.

  Lesia hurried over as Andrew jumped down from the wagon. He removed his hat and smiled. “Hello, Lesia.”

  She had forgotten how blue his eyes were. And what a warm smile he had. “Hello, Andrew.”

  Pearl was there, and so was Minnie, holding
baby Mary and looking impossibly cool and well fed in a clean white blouse and pale green skirt. They must have been up before dawn to make the nineteenmile trip. Lesia brushed the hair from her eyes and wished she’d had a chance to wash. Minnie always made her feel dirty.

  “We came to check on you!” Pearl hoisted herself from the wagon and handed Mama a basket covered with a red-checkered towel. “There are a dozen eggs and cream, some pyrohy and fresh bread.”

  “How wonderful!” Mama clutched the basket to her chest. “Thank you.”

  Lesia’s heart jumped. Now that they had food, maybe she wouldn’t have to go out to work! Maybe Papa would return before the eggs ran out and she could stay and clear more land.

  “You must see what we’ve done,” Lesia said excitedly. “We have a garden and a root cellar and an oven. Mama and Sonia plastered the house and we’ve almost cleared—”

  “Uncle Andrew,” Minnie interrupted with a whine, “can you help me down?” She handed the baby to her mother.

  “Of course.”

  Minnie reached for Andrew’s hand before daintily alighting from the wagon. Trust Minnie, Lesia thought impatiently. Interrupting her when she was in the middle of good news. One of the oxen decided at that moment to shuffle his feet. Minnie wrinkled her nose in disgust as the dust floated into her face. Lesia hid her smile behind her hand.

  “Where are Victoria and Anastasia?” Mama asked as Minnie rubbed vigorously at her face. “And Luka and Symon?”

  “The twins would never sit still long enough for the trip,” Pearl replied with a grin. “And the girls wanted to stay behind and go berry-picking.”

  Satisfied that her face was dust-free, Minnie stared at the dugout. “What is that?” she asked scornfully.

  “Enough now,” Pearl chided as she jiggled a suddenly fussy Mary. “You were born in a burdei just like that only days after we came to Canada.” Holding the baby close, she followed Mama inside.

  Andrew led the oxen to a patch of shade and went to get water. That left Lesia and Minnie alone.

  Minnie’s hp curled. “This is a dirt hovel, and the plaster job is terrible. Where’s the fence? All proper houses have fences.”

  Lesia was stunned into silence. In the homeland, all Ukrainian houses did have fences. But this was Canada. And there were more important things than fences to tend to.

  “You give the rest of us a bad name,” Minnie continued in a low, mean voice. “Townsfolk talk about the poor, uneducated Ukrainians. ‘Dirty continentals’ they call us. That’s you they’re talking about. We’re clean and rich. We have a fine house and acres of cultivated fields.”

  “Stop it!” Lesia wanted to reach out and smack the self-satisfied look from Minnie’s face.

  Minnie sneered. “You have nothing and you’ll always have nothing. You should have stayed in the homeland. You’ll never make it here.”

  “We’ve got three acres almost cleared!” Lesia retorted. “And I can read and write now, and some day we’ll have animals too and a fancy house and—!”

  “Some day.” Minnie giggled and rolled her eyes skyward. “You know the rules. Thirty acres cleared in three years. You’ll never make it.” Andrew was coming. Minnie turned her back to him and whispered one last taunt—“Even with your big, fat muscles!”—and then she flounced away.

  “Are you all right?” Andrew came to a sudden stop beside her.

  “Fine.” Lesia forced herself to smile. She was fine. She would be fine. Minnie was wrong.

  “Come and walk with me,” he said.

  She led Andrew to the garden, chatting about the bug problem and how she was hand-picking three times a day to keep them under control. She showed him the bee skeps and said she was praying nightly for a colony of wild bees to settle.

  After complimenting her on the size of her kale and the slim stalks of garlic greens, Andrew reached into his pocket and pulled out an envelope. “You said you could read in Ukrainian?”

  Lesia’s eyes flashed. “And write now too!”

  “Good. This is for you.”

  There were a dizzying number of stamps on the envelope, and though the writing was in Ukrainian, it was heavily angled and hard to read. Lesia ripped it open and withdrew a single sheet of paper.

  My dearest Lesia, Dmytro writes this for me as I ask. After explaining to Andrew that Dmytro was Baba’s cousin, Lesia continued to read the letter out loud. I must know—are you safe? Is Canada happy for you? Is Mama well? You can write now, yes? Please tell me the news of your land of milk and honey. Love, Baba.

  A lump of tears swelled in her throat. Lesia clutched the letter to her chest. How she missed dear Baba! She couldn’t wait to put money away for her passage.

  “Have you heard news of Papa?” she finally managed to ask Andrew. “Or Ivan?”

  “Your father stayed on with the Icelandic fellow. Wasyl decided to go with Ivan and look for work in Winnipeg. The two of them stopped in on their way to town a few days ago.” Andrew pulled a handful of bills from his pocket and held them out. “Your Papa sent this.”

  Baba’s letter disappeared into her apron. Lesia took the bills and carefully counted them. Her eyes widened. Bozhe, she was holding thirty Canadian dollars.

  Stunned, she looked up at Andrew. “This is worth seventy-five rynskys,” she said breathlessly.

  “Your father earned it over the last six weeks.” Andrew fiddled with his hat. “Ivan gave it to me on behalf of Papa with … er … certain instructions.”

  Lesia’s eyes narrowed. She knew her Papa all too well. “He told you to keep five dollars for Mama’s doctor bill and give me the rest, didn’t he?”

  Two spots of bright pink flushed his cheeks. “Not… not exactly.”

  “Then what?”

  “He told me to keep five dollars and spend the other twenty-five on supplies for you. But I didn’t know what to buy so I thought I’d ask you first.”

  Carefully she counted off five one-dollar bills and held them out. “Here,” she said.

  Andrew took a step backward. “I won’t take them.”

  “You must.” She held her head proudly. “The Magus family pays its debts.”

  “You don’t have to pay debts off all at once. That’s why they call them debts.” His eyes twinkled. “You have other debts to pay. You said so yourself. And your mama looks terrible. She needs to eat more potatoes.”

  Papa would kill her if she didn’t pay Andrew. “You must take something.”

  “One dollar, then.” He accepted the bill from Lesia’s hand.

  “Two.” She shoved another at his fist.

  “All right, two.” He grinned. “Now what about the store?”

  “The store?” But she wasn’t really listening. Twenty-eight dollars! She could send twenty to Master Stryk, save a little for Baba’s passage, maybe buy a bushel of potatoes or a sack of flour.

  “Lesia?”

  She snapped back. “I’ll need to make a list,” she said,” and think about how much to send to the master. I’ll go to the store myself.”

  “The trail’s rough in spots. It’ll take you the better part of a day to walk to Hazelridge.”

  “It’s summer. I can manage.”

  And Minnie said they’d never make it in Canada. The girl was crazy. Papa had already made it. She had twenty-eight Canadian dollars. Life was good!

  Chapter Eight

  Lesia settled herself near the small window near the corner of the burdei, reached for the family Bible and removed the pencil she’d hidden in its crease. Slowly, she pulled back the small square of muslin that covered the window and let the light from the full moon stream over the blank page.

  Taking one of the cream sheets of paper Andrew had given her, Lesia laid it on top of the closed Bible and clutched the pencil between her fingers.

  Dearest Baba, she wrote. It is now July 23. Yes, we arrived safely. I am well. Mama and Sonia are well. Papa and Ivan are well. They have gone out to work.

  Sonia cried out softly in h
er sleep. Lesia’s pencil skidded off the page. When the child had settled, Lesia resumed writing.

  We have much land and a river filled with fish. Our house is very large with a great oven and many windows. We have two cows, six chickens and a hog. Soon we will have oxen and a plough. Canada is a special land. Its people are very kind. When you come, you will see. Your ever-loving Lesia.

  By the time she was finished, the moon had moved and she was sitting in virtual darkness. But there was still one more letter to write.

  She let herself outside quietly, being careful not to wake Mama and Sonia. Grateful for the moonlight and the orange glow that came from the dwindling fire, Lesia sat on a stump and balanced a second sheet of paper on the Bible.

  Master Stryk Sir, she wrote, I am sending you half of the money I borrowed. Soon I will send more.

  Somewhere, an owl hooted. Startled, Lesia jumped.

  With a pounding heart, she turned back to her writing. Canada is a rich country. There is much wood and food. Our land is vast. Our house is grand. We are rich and happy and free. Yours ever faithfully, Lesia Magus.

  She tucked both letters between the pages of the Bible and slipped back inside the burdei. Then she stretched out and shut her eyes. Tomorrow was a big day. She needed to sleep.

  But sleep eluded her.

  I should feel good, she thought. After all, she was sending Master Stryk fifty rynskys—twenty of her Canadian dollars. But Lesia didn’t feel good at all.

  She was a sinner.

  For the first time in her life, she had lied before God. And to Baba, no less.

  Bozhe! Please understand. I cannot let Baba worry about us. I must convince her to leave Shuparka and come to Canada. I cannot allow the village to laugh at our foolish decision. I cannot allow Michal Stryk to laugh!

  Besides, Canada was the land of milk and honey. They did have lots of land. Papa had made thirty dollars! Soon they would have cows and chickens and hogs.

  It was just a matter of time.

  Lesia had been walking for over five hours towards the store in Hazelridge, stopping only for short rests in farmers’ fields when she couldn’t force herself to go on. She was tired, she was hungry, and her feet hurt. There was a small hole in the sole of her old boot. She could feel the dirt on the path rubbing against her skin and forming a blister. Still, she kept walking.