“Job gone, then?” Jenay wrinkled her forehead with concern.
“Tha’s right,” Rowena slowly said, with obvious pain. Her fingers picked at the knitted stitches resting in her lap. “He was angry when the army wouldn’t take ‘im as a soldier ta fight . . ..” Rowena left her words hang. “Guess they think he’s good nuff to dig or shore a buildin’ up. Not good nuff to tote a gun.” Rowena raised her head a little higher.
“Job’s good enough for anything. We all think so highly of him . . . of you both here.” Jenay touched Rowena’s slim, dark fingers.
Lily agreed. Job was a gem and a gentle giant of a man, willing to do anything for anybody.
“Yas.” Rowena looked up with the faintest of smiles on her full lips.
“Do you know what he’ll be doing exactly?” Jenay asked.
“He’ll be in a colored group. Called it the No. 2 Conscription Battalion. He’ll be doing construction. It’s what he’s good at.” She sniffed. “He won’t be fightin’, but he wanted to. He told me they’d be trainin’ in Nova Scotia afore headin’ out.”
“Well, he’ll be missed all the same. If you and the children need anything . . .” Jenay smiled and squeezed Rowena’s hand before letting go. “Let’s go get something to eat, shall we? I’ll tell you which pot has my favorite tea.”
“Yas, let’s,” Rowena agreed with a beautiful, toothy grin.
Lily spoke up. “I was just about to come and wrangle you two up to the table.”
She shared a smile with Jenay.
“Right you are, Lily. Off we go.”
Lily sensed all their hearts had lightened just being together. Life should be like that—the act of being together making life a little easier, a bit less burdened.
She smiled and walked forward with Jenay and Rowena.
April 6th, 1917
Late evening
Near Vimy Ridge
Luis was in his dugout, dreaming of drowning . . .
“I dare you!” Lily yelled. She stood atop the cliff by the harbor with her hands on her hips, eyeing her brother in her usual competitive spirit.
He and Lily were children once again.
Luis wouldn’t let his sister triumph over him. So, he walked past her, gulped a deep breath, took her dare, and dove into Superior off the rocky cliff by the harbor.
The terror he felt on the way down was nothing compared to the terror surrounding him in the water. He entered the lake with a gush, but the submerged edge of a rock caught him alongside the head, and he blacked out.
He panicked and flailed in his blindness. Luis resisted the urge to suck in a breath. Seconds seemed like an eternity as he tried to surface and dog paddle, but his body couldn’t make sense of which way was up.
He could feel his constricted chest trying to scream . . .
“Lieutenant! Lieutenant! Gunther!” Rooster stood over Luis and shook his shoulders. “Wake up.”
Luis’s heart raced, and it felt like he couldn’t breathe. His chest hurt. His ears heard Rooster’s cries.
“What? What’re you doing?” Luis demanded, his eyes wide. His pupils tried to function in the lantern light Rooster shone on him. Thoughts of his foolish dive floated away.
“They know I’ve been the one leaking news. I overheard Ostermann give Colonel Bauer instructions to find me and try me as a traitor. I . . . my wife . . . my little son . . . Oh, God!” Rooster’s voice was strained; he ended in a low wail.
Luis sat up and swung his legs over the bed.
“You have to get out.” Luis leaned over the side of his framed bed and tore off a piece of paper from a pad on a stand next to him. He grabbed a pencil and started to draw a quick map. “You have to go through the trenches till you reach the farthest point north. You’ll run into a boarded-up exit in the tunnel. You must get in this portion of the tunnel. It will lead to Allied territory. Remove your German uniform and carry a white flag. Ask to be taken to General Lefebvre. Tell him Lt. Wilson sent you. Do you understand?”
Luis pounded out his instructions.
“Ja, ja . . . I think.” Rooster held his hand to his head as if in pain “This Lefebvre, he will not take me prisoner?” His voice cracked with emotion.
“No. He knows about you. He’ll protect you. Nothing will happen to you.”
Luis stood, crushed the map into Rooster’s hand, grabbed him by the shoulders, and told him to go. Rooster turned to go, trusting Luis without hesitation.
“Wait! Did you . . . did they mention me? Do they know about me?”
“I don’t know for sure,” Rooster said over his shoulder. “They will probably guess that I worked with someone else. I didn’t hear your name, but that might not mean anything.”
“Well, you go. Go on ahead. I’ll be behind you.”
“Ja.” Rooster gave Luis a last, tense look before he slipped through the dugout opening.
Please let him make it, Luis found himself praying. Rooster was a decent man, a husband and a father. He didn’t want to see him shot.
Luis set himself into action. He pulled his clothes and boots on, strapped his Luger to his side, and left. Before following Rooster, he needed to leave some misinformation. He walked past where the night guards were posted and left a tip about a deserter. He pointed them in the opposite direction of Rooster.
He made it back to where his squadron of men nestled in their burrows in the trenches.
He prodded one man awake. “Kline. Kline.”
“Huh?” The man rubbed his eyes and jumped to attention. “Lieut . . .”
Luis didn’t let him finish. “Kline, if anyone asks, I am going to the medical tent. I have bad pain in my stomach. Ohh.” Luis doubled over, feigning some gastronomical obstruction. “It’s bad. Arrg . . .” Luis’s face twisted into a grimace.
“Ja, Lieutenantoberst Von Wolff.” Kline gave a quick salute. “Do you need assistance getting there?”
“Nein. Stay. You are in charge in my absence . . . oof.”
“Sir.”
Luis turned and hobbled away from his sergeant, grunting and groaning as he went. When out of sight, he started for the trail of abandoned trenches. It seemed like miles, and it was slow-going. He figured the tunnel should be up ahead. Suddenly, Luis heard the barking of a German Shepherd.
Not a good sign.
He kept going as fast as he could. The trenches were lower in this spot. His feet dredged through muck, which slowed him down. Now, he heard raised voices and more barking.
The trench declined; it took Luis off guard. He stumbled, rolled, and splashed into the freezing cold water at the bottom. The cold rain of the last couple days had accumulated in spots, flooding certain areas. He stood up, wet and shivering with cold and fear.
They are getting close. Do I forge through? No, the sound of the water will lead them right to me, he decided.
What do I do?! he screamed at himself.
With clarity, the Biblical story of Moses and his watery refuge as a babe popped into his head.
Luis quietly and carefully lowered himself into the hip-high water. He pulled out a copper tube he happened to have in his pocket. He’d confiscated it after it had fallen off a makeshift still some of the boys had cobbled together for recreational purposes.
He swallowed, took a deep breath, stuck the tube in his mouth, and submerged himself in the murky water. He was able to lie down on the ground with the tube just sticking above the surface. He held onto a root to keep from floating and prayed for release, either by death or by some other means. He didn’t want to get caught. He’d rather die.
My dreams have become real. The thought shocked him.
He lay there taking quick, short breaths for so long he could no longer feel his limbs. A tiredness overcame him.
I’m tired of holding on. Tired of the fight . . . tired of the whole mess. He opened his eyes.
The watery, silver moon shone in the heavens above him. It called to him. He felt ready to answer. The lure of floating away into space seemed
comforting.
But a face appeared, and a hand grabbed his army coat. Luis braced himself to face his captors. He sputtered and blew out the pipe.
A familiar voice unclogged his ears.
“Luis?”
April 14th, 1917
The most bizarre thing happened. Lenny and I were sent on a mission to find someone. Here’s how it started . . .
A turned German soldier showed up, waving a white flag, and begging to talk to Lefebvre, which he did. Lefebvre came to us and directed Lenny and I to follow the German’s instructions to find the Allied officer.
We obeyed, of course, and found ourselves on the very outskirts of the trench line. We searched through the burrows abandoned since we’d been beaten back by the enemy. I thought for sure we’d be goners. After crawling around in the dark for a good half hour, we heard the Germans searching for something or someone. Most likely the same man we sought. We hid until, finally, they retreated.
Our turncoat’s directions led us to a series of flooded trenches. We avoided the water and crawled along the top, as low as we could, until I saw something . . . a coppery gleam. I leaned far over into the trench. I knew something was in there. I told Lenny to wait while I took a look. I lowered myself into the grunge. A pale image shone back at me in the moonlight. At first, I thought it a dead body, but I felt it move. Before I could think, I reached down, grabbed a hold of whatever or whoever it was, and yanked.
And there he was, the man I had hoped to see for years—Luis. He said he’d been a prisoner but had escaped. I didn’t question him at the time, but, thinking about it now, it sure seems odd. I mean, why would they hold prisoners so close to the front?
Well, we made our way back. The initiative was to start at dawn the next morning—Easter morning—so we needed to get some rest. I didn’t have much time to talk with Luis. He seemed . . . cagey. He didn’t really answer any of my questions but redirected them until he became the one asking. I wonder what has made him so . . . controlled. He seemed distant, not the man I know. He’s wasn’t telling me something, but I didn’t know what. Now, it’s too late.
Luis was told to rest and not engage in the fight, but he did. The fool almost got himself blown up when a potato masher exploded in front of him. I saw the whole thing. I pulled him off to the side, where I got the attention of a medic, who carted him away.
I pray to God the crazy fool survives. His head looked pretty cut up, and his eyes looked like scorched sockets.
I found him just to lose him again the next day. What weird twists life takes us on.
I’m so exhausted. We gained the ridge but lost lots of lives doing it. I wonder how many thousands? But now the Allies have the advantage of sight, control of the railway, and we are at the starting gate to taking back Ypres.
Must go. The light fades. I’ll end with a prayer . . .
God, in Your grace, let Luis recover. Care for my wife and baby. If my life has some purpose on this globe yet, I ask You to spare me. I want to be a husband and a father, which I have been in name only. I only had one day . . . now I plead for more.
. . . Everything on the earth has a purpose,
Every disease an herb to cure it,
And every person a mission.
This is the Indian theory of existence.
Christal Quintasket, Salish
Chapter Sixteen
Late November 1917
Webaashi Bay
I try again, determined to get this right. I attempt to orientate myself to my surroundings without the aid of my sight, such as it is. I hold the cane Michael made for me and tap along as I go.
Five steps to the fireplace from the couch.
Twenty from the fireplace to exit the room.
Turn left then thirty to the front door.
I worked part of yesterday memorizing the area from the sitting room to the dining room to the kitchen. I can see some, and, more and more, I am finding it easier to navigate in a world without the blurry images. I often feel dizzy, and my head aches when I am trying so hard to see clearly. It is almost easier if I don’t. I challenge myself to see how I would do entirely blind, and I find the answer to be—not bad. Not bad at all.
May 1917
Webaashi Bay
“Who’s my big girl?”
“Ha, ha . . .” One-year-old Pearl shied away from Mauve’s tickling.
“Oh, no you don’t. Come here.”
Pearl made a beeline, on her newly found legs, away from her mother, but Mauve wrangled her daughter up in her arms.
“Momma . . . Momma.” Pearl patted Mauve’s cheek and then kissed her.
A sad place in Mauve’s heart ached.
She has not learned to say “Dada” yet. And probably wouldn’t for a while.
“She sure is makin’ good use o’ those legs. You weren’t takin’ to yer pegs good till ye was a year and a half.” Billy grinned at his daughter, leaned in, and petted Pearl’s crown of red locks. “Where’s a smile fer yer granddaddy, now?”
Billy waited and Pearl obliged with a wide grin, showing a few sharp, white teeth.
“Boy ‘ose look as sharp as razors.” Billy observed.
“Yes, ya don’t want to stick your finger in there. Trust me,” Mauve told him.
Jenay made her way over to the little group in the shade of a towering pine tree. “Time for cake, you think? Ellie and I finished up the dishes. Thought we’d just do them right away so they don’t get encrusted with dried food, not that there would be any waste. That roast was delicious.”
“Thank you, Jenay. Yes, I think it is time for the main event.” Mauve turned to her daughter. “Want some cake? Some treat?”
Pearl tilted her head sideways like she tried to figure out what her mother said.
“She’ll be happy enough when she realizes what cake is, I’m sure.”
“Here, I can carry ‘er.” Billy reached out for Pearl, who almost fell into his waiting arms with a squeal.
“Someone likes her granddaddy,” Mauve said to her father. Billy just grinned and hugged the little girl tighter, which made her giggle.
“Come, girls,” Jenay called to Celeste and Lizzy, who had been peeling bark from a birch tree. “Cake.”
The sisters dropped what they were doing and dashed forward, ready and willing to partake of the birthday treat.
“Alex. Patrice. Barby!” Jenay shouted to the Murray children playing croquet on the lawn.
“We’ll just finish this round,” Alex hollered back. He waved an arm in the air.
“No, I want cake,” Patrice complained with a frown on her face.
“Don’t wait too long. We’ll eat it up,” kidded their father.
Jenay shrugged. She and Mauve walked into the house together.
In the dining room of Oshki and Mauve’s home, Angelica carefully sliced up the layer cake on the sideboard and transferred the slices to Lennox dessert plates. The plates were part of a set that she, Jenay, Jacque, Frances, and Maang-ikwe had gotten them for their wedding gift. The cream-colored plates displayed gray-blue flourishes and red, yellow, and blue flowers, amidst intertwined vines.
Angelica had told Mauve she wanted to make a special cake for her great niece’s birthday. She’d baked the cherry cake early that morning and frosted it with pink, fluffy frosting flavored with sweetened, canned, cherry juice. Mauve thought it was a miracle Angelica had saved up enough sugar for the treat, but she supposed a first birthday deserved real cake made with real sugar, not some wartime hodgepodge.
Mauve set out napkins at each place at the dining table. Natalie poked her head around from the kitchen.
“Should I make coffee or tea?”
Angelica spoke up. “Sounds like a good idea. Tea, I think.”
“Ever drink chaga?” Maang-ikwe asked.
After Angelica plated the cake, Maang-ikwe placed a dessert fork by each serving.
“What in God’s creation is that?” Angelica turned up her nose a mite.
“I’ve hea
rd of it. It tastes kind of like coffee, right?” Natalie asked. She met Mauve’s eyes, and Mauve mouthed, “I don’t know.”
“Yes, but what is it?” Angelica paused with her knife stuck half in the cake and half out.
“It of the birch tree . . . a fungus. We dry and roast it, grind to powder, and steep in hot water. It good for you.”
“Huh . . . no, thank you.” Angelica went back to slicing.
“I’d like to try it sometime,” Natalie said. “Do you have some, Maang-ikwe?”
“Yes. Happy to share. You come by sometime. I make for you.” Maang-ikwe smiled. One tooth less showed in her smile.
“I’ll do that.” Natalie smiled back then turned to set out the coffee things.
“Here they come.” Lily waited to open the door for the little troupe bringing the birthday girl in for her treat. “I’ve got the highchair ready with a bib,” she told Mauve.
“Good idea. I don’t want her to ruin the dress Marm made for her.” Mauve looked around. “Where’s Marm?”
Lily’s face couldn’t hide her concern. “She went to lie down on your bed for a bit. She was feeling tired.”
“That’s unusual. Here.” Mauve passed off Pearl. “Would you mind getting everyone seated at the table? I’ll only be a minute. I would like to check on her.”
“Of course.” Lily took Pearl and smoothed down her dress. “Come with Auntie Lil, my little sugar plum.” Pearl leaned her head down against Lily’s chest. “I think someone else might need a rest soon too.”
“She’ll probably perk up after she’s had some cake. Be back in a minute.”
“Take as much time as you need. We’re fine.” Lily confidently took charge of the group.
Mauve made her way to the bedroom. The door was open a crack, so she went in. “Marm?”
Eleanor Murray slowly turned over to face her daughter. “Oh, Mauve. I’m sorry. I was just so tired after I ‘elped Jenay. Figured ye wouldn’t mind me havin’ a bit of a lie down.”
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