When they were gone, Rose put the ring back on its chain, which she put around her neck and tucked inside her uniform. Wearing jewelry was forbidden for the nurses, but no one would know it hung over her heart. She took a deep breath and went to relieve Nurse Franklin.
She would grieve later in the privacy of her room.
The nurses and the men noticed Rose’s ultra-quiet demeanor the rest of the day, but no one said anything. When the day came to an end, she walked speedily home, plopped herself on her bed, and cried herself to sleep.
She awoke around midnight and noticed that Mabel’s bed hadn’t even been slept in. Worry for her friend took the place of her grief. It felt good to have something else to think about. Rose hoped Mabel hadn’t gotten in with that crowd down at the dance hall. They were trouble.
Getting up, she washed her face and poured a glass of water. She hadn’t eaten any supper. She pushed hunger to the back burner as grief and worry took precedence. She’d sit up a little while for Mabel and hope to God she came back safe.
I can’t lose the man I love and my best friend in the same day. Rose didn’t know if she could recover from that.
The next morning
“Milton’s proposed!” Mabel leaned on her elbow, sprawled on her bed, still dressed in a shimmery, blueberry-colored dress from the evening before and her hair messy.
Rose sat frozen on the edge of her bed.
“Well, say something. I’ve shocked you, haven’t I?” Mabel sat up all the way and pushed her frizzy hair out of her eyes.
“Yes, I suppose so.”
Should I tell her about Henry, or should I wait?
Rose didn’t want to ruin Mabel’s happiness. “Congratulations, Mabel.”
“You don’t sound too thrilled.” A pout began to form on Mabel’s lips. “I thought you liked Milton.”
“I do.” Rose got up and walked to the window, situated by her desk. She kept her back to Mabel. She would have to tell her, otherwise her friend might get hurt by her coldness. She took a deep breath, steadied herself, and faced her friend. “Henry’s folks came to see me yesterday.”
“Oh? How nice. You’d not met them yet, had you?”
“No.”
A few awkward seconds of silence reigned.
“Listen, I know you’re holding back something. Just spit it out,” Mabel finally said.
Rose still paused. Mabel waited.
“He’s dead. Henry’s dead.” Rose crumpled down in her desk chair, but she didn’t cry. All her tears had been spent last night.
“Oh, hun.” Mabel got up and walked over to Rose.
She stooped down and put her arms around her. Rose hugged her back.
“I’m so sorry.” Mabel’s arms stayed around Rose for a few minutes, then she let her go and stood up.
She took Rose’s hairbrush from the dresser, slowly tipped her head back, and started to brush her hair. Rose had just been working on her long hair when Mabel had spilled out her news. Mabel brushed and brushed, with long, slow strokes.
Rose closed her eyes and some reserved tears rolled lazily down her cheeks. There was a comfort in someone else brushing her hair. Her mother used to brush Rose’s hair every night before she went to bed until she was thirteen. They’d never talked much during that time, but it had created a greater bond between them. Sometimes words weren’t necessary.
After several minutes, Mabel asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really. I’m sorry to put a damper on your news. I’m . . . truly happy for you.”
The emerald ring hanging around Rose’s neck felt warm against her skin. I could have been engaged. It isn’t fair that Milton is here safe and sound with Mabel, and Henry is . . . gone.
Rose didn’t know the details of Henry’s death, and she didn’t want to know.
“I know. I’m sorry. I should have known there must be something wrong.” Mabel finished and laid the brush back. “How about a French braid?”
Rose nodded. Mabel grabbed a ribbon and started sectioning off Rose’s hair. Mabel’s hands crossed and gathered hair until she was done. She tied the end off with the brown ribbon.
“There.” Mabel passed Rose a hand mirror.
Rose took a gander at Mabel’s work. “That’s lovely. Thank you.”
She set the mirror down. She was tired of thinking sad thoughts. It would be good for her to focus on someone else instead of bemoaning her loss.
“How did he pop the question?”
“Oh, you know Milton, always flies by the seat of his pants. We walked by Renard’s Jewelry on 5th, and he pulled me into the store. We looked through several cases; finally, one caught my eye.” Rose wiggled her finger, and the diamonds surrounding a central pearl caught the light. “The jeweler put it on my finger, and Milton asked me then and there.”
Rose couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds like him all right.”
“Well, then we had to go celebrate. We met a bunch of the crowd at the dancehall.”
“I was worried when you didn’t come home. A few scoundrels hang around there.”
“Oh Rose, they're not so bad.” Mabel rolled her eyes and started to comb through her own hair. “You have today off?”
“Yes. Matron gave me the day off.”
“I’m not scheduled either, and you can’t mope around here all day.” Mabel set her comb down and took to stripping down to her slip. She pulled on her pink, chenille robe. “I’m going to the washroom. Then, after I get dressed, you’re coming with me. I think we need an outing, and, besides, it looks like fine weather today. But I’m gonna need some tea or coffee. Maybe you could wrangle some up while I get ready?”
“I don’t know.” Rose pulled back the curtain and peeked out the window.
Rats, it does look nice out. She had no excuse to stay indoors.
“I won’t take no for an answer. Now, go get us some coffee.” Mabel shooed Rose away with little backward flicks of her hand while she followed her down the hall.
Mabel went to the washroom to administer her morning miracle, while Rose descended the steps in search of their strengthening agent—coffee.
October 1915
Webaashi Bay
Natalie needed bread, and she didn’t have time to make any. She grabbed a basket, left The Eatery, and quickly walked across the street and down the planking to Murray’s Candy and Bake Shop. The bell jangled when she opened the door.
A delightful aroma greeted her as she entered.
It always smells heavenly in here, thought Natalie.
She walked towards the stand to her left displaying the fresh bread offerings of the day. There seemed to be less on display every time she went in. She supposed wartime food shortages to be the cause. She selected sourdough and rye loaves.
I think I’ll do a patty melt special with the sourdough, and a wienerschnitzel with sauerkraut will go well with the rye. Wait, maybe that’s a little too German? Maybe a fried fish special with a side of rye toast instead. Yes, better.
Natalie’s inner conversation with herself was interrupted.
“Hhh hum.” A voice broke in on her thoughts. “Been meaning to thank you for . . . the food.”
Natalie turned around. Good heavens, Jeremiah Taylor. It’s been months since I left those vittles at his door. I’d almost forgotten about it.
“I . . . am glad you liked them, Mr. Taylor.” She smiled but kept up her guard.
“Yer a right fine cook, missy.” Jeremiah’s eyes looked watery to her, almost as if filled with tears. He sniffed suddenly, swiped at the tip of his nose, and puckered up his lips in a determined fashion. “I . . . I may have made a mistake.”
His wizened face and fragile appearance pricked at Natalie’s heart. She fished for something to say in response. “Well, we all do at times, I suppose.”
She couldn’t tell for sure what Jeremiah’s crusty way stemmed from, but she surmised his grief over the loss of his wife some years ago might be at the core of his angst. Grief coul
d make you dry, and if you didn’t deal with it, you cracked. The death of her sister Joan had taught her that.
After Joan had died—when Natalie was ten and Joan eight—her life had gone by as if she’d sucked on a choke cherry. Until time, and the help of Marielle, her other sister, had worked it out of her.
Perhaps grief is what has made Mr. Taylor bitter, puckered, and dry.
Her sympathy for him made her utter an invitation. “You must stop in The Eatery sometime. I don’t have the strawberry scones of summer, but the dried blueberry and cranberry ones I make this time of year are almost as good.”
She smiled, a faint upturn of her lips.
Jeremiah echoed her facial expression, but his smile came out more of a grimace.
“Might just do that, yes, sir. A good day to you.” He tipped his hat, looked Natalie steadily in the eye, and turned to exit the shop with his breadbasket dangling from one hand and his cane in the other.
The interaction between them had shocked Natalie. Perhaps her gift offering of food had done more than she knew. She shook herself and went up to the counter to pay.
Billy smiled. “Nicest I’ve seen ol’ man Taylor in years.”
Natalie thought he looked like his father, minus the chipped tooth.
“You put a charm on ‘im?” he teased her.
“Maybe I have, Mr. Murray, just maybe.” Natalie counted out her money, set it on the counter, and bid Billy good day.
Lily unwrapped her scarf and unbuttoned her wool jacket. “The leaves are about spent.”
“Yes, just a few hanging on,” Mauve said over Silvy’s yapping.
She ignored her dog and still held the door open, as if waiting for something or someone else. The fall air sent a shiver up her spine.
He’s not coming, she reminded herself.
A part of her always seemed to be looking for her missing link—her husband. She sighed and closed the door. Really, she was glad Lily had come to visit her. She picked Silvy up to quiet her and tried to be more congenial.
“How are you? I haven’t seen you for a couple weeks.”
“Busy. Pop and I are burning both ends of the candle. It’s all he can do to find enough workers to fill the quotas we have coming in.” Lily reached out and let Silvy sniff her. “As many times as I’ve come to visit, Silvy still barks at me.”
“Aw, just ignore her.” Mauve let down Silvy, who was all bluster, and took Lily’s jacket. After she had hung up Lily’s outerwear, Mauve directed her to the sitting room where a cozy fire blazed and a low table sat spread with tea, biscuits, canned oranges, and cheese sandwiches cut into little shapes.
“Mm, this looks good.” Lily sniffed at the tea pot. “It smells spicy.”
“Yes, it’s an autumn spice tea; Jenay gave it to me. I don’t know exactly what’s in it. I’ll pour you a cup, and you can try it.” Mauve poured them each a cupful and sat down. “Grab a plate and help yourself.”
Little Silvy positioned herself on Mauve’s lap to scrounge for any dropped crumbs.
Lily wasted no time in obeying Mauve. “I worked up an appetite on my walk.” She sipped the tea. “Mm, I taste cinnamon, clove, mint, apple, and . . . a touch of sage.”
Mauve laughed. “You sound like a tea connoisseur.”
“Hardly.” Lily took a bite of a biscuit. “Little Pearl napping?”
“Yes, I finally got her down. She’s been fussy lately and wanting to be held. Marm says she’s probably cutting teeth. Maang-ikwe gave me a salve with chamomile that I can rub on her gum line. It helps some.”
“Heard from Oshki lately?”
Mauve took a gulp of her tea and scalded her tongue. “Yes. He’s good about writing regularly. From what I can tell, he’s still in the trenches somewhere in France. It doesn’t sound like they have made much of an advancement, but, of course, he can’t be too clear on the details.”
She took a bite of sandwich and chewed. “I can tell he’s trying to keep his and our spirits up. He often tells some tale, old or new, or some funny thing the men do. He doesn’t give too much of a description of their existence in the ground, but I am sure it’s miserable.”
Lily nodded in agreement. She changed the subject. “Mr. Bellevue surprised Nessa. He finally took her up on her offer to move out here. She picked him up from the dock a few days ago. I think his presence may help her. He always was a stabilizing presence in her life.”
“How nice. I’m happy for Vanessa.” Mauve wished she had a stabilizing presence in her own life. Just to have another body around the house would be comforting.
I do have Pearl and Silvy.
Yes, she did, but neither of them could talk back to her and tell her the comforting words she longed to hear—that it would be all right. She sighed and forced her mind to focus on Lily’s new interest.
“Well, I can’t do all the talking. Tell me about Jimmy.” Mauve stroked Silvy’s silky coat. The little dog shrugged off her attention, attentive at the possibility of a treat.
Lily swallowed and washed the food down with another drink of tea. “I can tell he’s trying to spare me the nasty details too.” She smiled, and a dreamy look rested on her face. “His letters are simple, but nice.”
“That’s it? Come on, this is me you're talking to. I know you better than that.” Mauve narrowed her eyes and pointed her finger at Lily. “You like him, I mean, really like him.”
Lily actually blushed and shrugged in a noncommittal way. “Maybe.”
“This nice guy is the same person who used to nail your hair to the school desk?”
“To be fair, it was only one time. And he’s grown up now and has repented of his ways.”
“Has he indeed?” Mauve enjoyed teasing her friend. She was glad Lily had a potential beau. She had feared Lily would be an old maid, but, then, Lily probably wouldn’t have minded that all that much.
I would though, Mauve thought.
Mauve knew she needed people. As feisty and fiery as she could be sometimes, she understood most of that to be bluster. She took comfort in a group of friends or family. She was glad she’d married right away. She hadn’t wanted to be alone, but, ironically, that’s how it had turned out.
I have family, Pearl, and Silvy. I’m not alone, she kept reminding herself daily.
“I think I’m . . . in love with Jimmy,” Lily confessed as she looked at her lap and blushed some more.
“I’m glad, Lil.”
Just then, Pearl started crying. Silvy stirred and looked concerned too.
“Oh, I thought she would sleep longer.” Mauve couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.
“Let me go get her.” Lily stood and persuaded Mauve to finish her tea.
“All right. If she needs her nappy changed, there are clean ones on the stand by the dresser I use as a changing table.”
“Who said anything about changing diapers?” Lily winked and laughed at Mauve’s odd look. “Just kidding.”
When Lily had taken care of Pearl, she brought her to the sitting room and settled the baby on her lap.
“Who’s my good girl?” Mauve asked in a high-pitched, baby voice as she tickled her daughter under her chubby chin. Pearl giggled and smiled with delight.
“Aww, she’s a charmer.” Lily pet Pearl’s new crop of red hair, sprouting from her head like alfalfa. “I thought you said she was cranky.”
“She has her moments. Trust me.” Mauve looked at the clock on the wall. “She should be getting hungry soon. Want to feed her a bit of applesauce and oatmeal?”
Mauve set Silvy down and readied herself to mix up Pearl’s food.
“Definitely.” Lily picked Pearl up and followed Mauve into the kitchen.
Mauve washed her hands at the sink and heated some water on the stove. When the water turned warm, she added a little ground oatmeal and a spoonful of plain applesauce. Pearl started to whimper, and Lily jiggled her up and down in her arms. Mauve transferred the mixture to a small bowl and set it on the table.
“Here, I’ll hold her, and you can shovel it in.” Mauve grinned as she handed Lily a spoon.
“Alrighty, little miss. Your Auntie Lil is gonna give this a try.” Lily scooped up a tiny portion of the cereal with the tiny spoon and deposited it in Pearl’s mouth, although half of it came back out again. Pearl quieted and concentrated on eating.
Silvy watched attentively from her domain on the floor. What fell to her kingdom was hers.
“You can catch her dribbles with the spoon and send them back in,” Mauve pointed out.
“Ah, here . . . we . . . go.” Lily exaggerated her actions. Pearl’s eyes got bigger with anticipation when the loaded spoon got close to her mouth. When Lily wasn’t fast enough with the food, she squealed.
“Someone knows where their bread’s buttered.”
Mauve laughed. “Yes, indeed. She knows what she wants.”
“Don’t you get tired?” Lily asked frankly. “How do you manage it all, this house, the baby, and all the washing and cleaning and feeding?”
“My sisters and Marm help some. But sometimes . . . it’s lonely.” Mauve looked around the kitchen and then at Lily, “Even with Pearl here. We weren’t meant to be living here alone.”
The laughter and light spirit defining their time together suddenly left. Sadness took its place. Lily met Mauve’s eyes, but she didn’t smile.
I’m glad she understands. Mauve helped Lily finish feeding Pearl.
“I should nurse her a little now.” Mauve wiped Pearl’s face with a washcloth and picked her up.
“While you do that, I’ll clean up the tea things and the kitchen.”
“Thanks.”
Mauve walked back to the sitting room and settled herself on the couch with a pillow propped under her arm to help support Pearl’s weight. Silvy hopped up next to her mistress. While her daughter nursed, Mauve stroked her soft cheek and spoke quietly to her.
“Let me tell you about your daddy. He’s handsome, strong, a bit wild, but quiet. He likes animals and nature. He loves you very much and can’t wait to get home to see you. He wanted me to tell you this story . . .”
Silver Moon Page 18
