Those Left Behind: Wwi Trilogy, #2 413a4g

Those Left Behind

WWI Trilogy, Volume 2

Melina Druga

Published by Sun Up Press, 2021.

Copyright 2020 Melina Druga/Sun Up Press Melina Druga www.melinadruga.com ASIN: B08H3G55WK

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All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, scanning, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Editor: John Druga Cover art: Victoria Cooper

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Preface

The Dress Fitting Aftermath

Happiest Day of Her Life, but Not His

For King, Country, Freedom and Self Worth

The Worthless Husband

Only Able to Say the Wrong Things

Freddie Makes a Decision

Lucretia’s Brother: The Parliamentarian?

Too Young to Marry

‘Tis the Season for Difficulties

His True Love

The Happy Announcement That Turned Sour

Make a Decision

End of an Era

Victor’s Homecoming

Another Grandchild Enters the World

A Crybaby for Christmas

Solving One Problem Causes Another

Hettie’s Lover

The Pre-Wedding Tea

Rose’s Second Son

Blown Away

Alice’s Beau

Adelaide’s Next Step

A War of a Different Sort

Alice’s Wedding Expectations

Relief, At Last

O, Brave New World

A Sneak Peek of Adjustment Year

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Preface

“T hose of us who are left behind are the ones who suffer,” Freddie Steward tells his sister Hettie in Angel of Mercy , the first book in this trilogy. Freddie was referring to those left behind when a member of the Canadian Corps dies, but the letters Hettie receives from her mother and sisters during the war hint at a different kind of suffering – that caused by worry, fear and missing loved ones. This is a collection of slice-of-life pieces that collectively tell the story of what happened in Canada while the events in Angel of Mercy were occurring. They are based on Hettie’s letters, which also appear in this book.

1914

The Dress Fitting Aftermath

“Y our sister is incorrigible ,” Lucretia Steward said to her second daughter, Mabel, as they tramped down the sidewalk. “I don’t understand Hettie at all.” Mabel resisted the urge to sigh. “Well, Mother, it seems to me she simply enjoys what she does.” “I enjoyed teaching, but I gladly gave it up to marry your father. You should talk to her, Mabel. Put some sense into her head.” “What?” Mabel turned her neck so quickly her massive hat bobbled. “Why me?” “Don’t sound so surprised. I know you still share secrets. She’d listen to you if you told her about the merits of marriage.” The merits of marriage? This wasn’t a subject Mabel was certain she knew anything about. She swallowed. “I’m sure she knows, Mother, or she wouldn’t be getting married.” “I hope Miss Fletcher wasn’t too embarrassed,” Lucretia said, referring to the dressmaker who had witnessed the family squabble scant minutes before. “I plan on talking to your father about all of this as soon as I return home.” “I’m sure Miss Fletcher deals with families all the time. Ours can’t be the only one with a strong-willed daughter.” Lucretia waved her hand in front of her face. “You will talk to Hettie, Mabel.” “Yes, Mother.” Mabel shrugged, wishing this conversation was over. “When is your dress fitting?” “Thursday.” Mabel dreaded the idea of owning a dress she would wear only once. Her bridesmaid dress was a beautiful, light lilac, but it was not to her taste, and she

knew it would linger for eternity in her closet. The dress was bold, like Hettie, whereas Mabel was more retiring. Perhaps the fabric could be repurposed into nice curtains for the little window above the kitchen sink. “Do you want to stop at the tea shop and see if anyone is there?” Lucretia said. The teashop was one of Lucretia’s favorite places. She often ran into her sisters and sisters-in-law there, and they could gossip for hours. Unlike her mother, Mabel was unable to quickly turn off her negative emotions, and social interaction at the moment sounded as appealing as enduring quarantine. “No, Mother, not today. I don’t feel well.” “You had best not feel ill for any wedding events lest you spoil them.” It didn’t escape Mabel’s attention that Lucretia didn’t ask about her symptoms or even about how long she had been ill. She was well aware that a Steward marrying a Bartlette was a momentous occasion that could not be interfered with for any reason – the families were as close as blood, and Hettie and Geoffrey’s marriage would permanently unite them – but she couldn’t help it if she felt ill. “No, Mother,” she said, shaking her head and opting not to argue. Mother and daughter kissed each other on the cheek and parted ways with the promise that they would see one another tomorrow. Mabel exhaled slowly, allowing the breath to through her parched lips with coolness, and savored this short period of tranquility between dealing with her mother and her husband’s arrival home from work.

MABEL AND GARDNER HILL had been married for a year and in that time they rarely disagreed. Of course, they rarely agreed either. They merely coexisted, speaking only when circumstances necessitated it. Wasn’t this something that was supposed to happen to couples who had been married for decades, who found they no longer had anything in common Mabel wondered? It wasn’t expected in a couple whom many still considered newlyweds. When they were courting, Gardner was sweet. He brought her flowers, quoted love poetry and took her on long walks. Mabel enjoyed his company and looked forward to seeing him. Those days were gone. Now she dreaded hearing the front door open. Every workday, it was the same routine. Gardner came home, replaced his shoes with slippers, petted the dog and gave his wife a kiss. If it could be labeled a kiss. There was nothing remotely romantic about it. It was more like a peck one might give a close family member. Some days it wasn’t even a peck but more of a lip grazing. This lack of spousal affection was followed by the short walk to the dining room as Gardner inquired about the menu for that night’s dinner. Once in the room, he took his place at the head of the table and looked about, overly pleased with himself as if he had done something worthy of her praise. “How was your day, darling?” Mabel said, standing with her hands firmly clasping the back of one of the chairs. “I’ll tell you once dinner is served.” “Very well.” Mabel turned on her heels. Gardner did thank her when she returned from the kitchen with the dishes, but his sincerity seemed faked, and she accepted it without a smile. It was like this every evening. It didn’t matter what she cooked, if he liked it or not, if something exciting had happened that day. Food was more important than conversation. Mabel slowly cut her meat and placed a dainty, overcooked piece into her mouth. Gardner, meanwhile, unceremoniously shoveled mashed potatoes into his own orifice while relating with some pride the tale of a bridge and his role in its construction. She merely nodded before they fell back into silence.

Gardner finished his potatoes, and Mabel perceived his eyes upon her. She tried to focus on her carrots, which she had no appetite for, when she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “The thing with Hettie and your mother was this morning?” Mabel set down her fork, and it clanged against her china plate. “The thing? Do you mean the dress fitting? Yes, that was this morning. Hettie despises the dress Mother picked and wants to continue working after she gets married. Mother is livid. She wants me to talk to her, to talk sense into her. Me?!” Gardner said nothing, and Mabel laughed nervously before continuing. “Hettie studied hard, was itted into a prestigious nursing school and graduated with honors. Why shouldn’t she be permitted to put her education to use? Isn’t that what Father always wanted us to do, educate ourselves for the betterment of society? Whereas, I, on the other hand, I never was ambitious. I only completed grade 12 because it was expected of me. It was a struggle, I tell you. I had difficulty living up to our parents and teachers’ expectations. But not Hettie. She handled the pressure with ease. Never mind it made me feel inferior because she is two years younger.” A venomous smile spread across his face. “Are you quite finished? What difference does any of that make? All I asked was whether the appointment was today.” She blinked. Far be it from her actually to attempt to confide in her husband. “Yes, the wedding party’s attire is underway.” “Good. Has Geoffrey found them a place to live yet?” “He’s in the process, I believe. It’ll probably be a rental somewhere in or around H-block since his family —” “A rental? I don’t know why Hettie wants to —” “Because she loves him,” Mabel said, not wishing to hear his full sentence. “Well, we’ll see how much she loves him when she’s living in poverty,” he said, the smile still on his face.

Mabel’s cheeks grew hot. Gardner couldn’t be as happy for Hettie as Mabel was, she knew, but he could at least pretend to be pleased and keep his opinions to himself. Hettie would not be living in poverty, not as people live in poverty in big cities like Toronto or Ottawa anyway. Barrie had less than 7,000 people. Hettie would be just fine. She – A wave of nausea suddenly overcame Mabel. Startled, she placed her elbow on the table and held her forehead in her hand. “Now don’t cry,” Gardner said. “It’s not that bad. For us anyway. Let’s take the carriage out after dinner and see if there’s a motion picture playing tonight.” “I’m not crying. I feel quite ill.” The nausea grew worse, and Mabel covered her mouth, running as quickly as she could from the room. Her narrow skirt prevented much speed, however, and knowing she would never make it to the bathroom, she headed for the kitchen where she vomited in a cooking pot that had been left on the stove. When she finished, she leaned gasping against the counter, her fingers gripping the edge of the butcher block as if that could somehow calm her down. Footsteps scraped behind her on the tile floor, and she gripped the counter tighter, her knuckles growing white. “I didn’t think dinner was that bad,” Gardner said from the threshold. “I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s the matter.” Why am I apologizing to him? she thought and wrinkled her nose. What? For ruining his dinner? Gardner put his hand on her back. “Perhaps you had best get to bed in case you are contagious. I’ll have Mrs. Watson clean up,” he said, referencing the housekeeper, “when she gets back.” Mabel nodded, feeling small and vulnerable but heeded his advice. Perhaps, something she ate earlier in the day disagreed with her and that was all, and she would feel better in the morning. After all, Mabel told herself, Mother will have my hide if I ruin Hettie’s wedding plans.

WHEN LUCRETIA RETURNED to the Stewards’ Gothic Revival after the dress fitting, she was not expecting to see her husband, Benjamin, sitting in the breakfast room thumbing through the mail and waiting for the housekeeper to serve his soup and bread. He, meanwhile, didn’t even notice her presence, not bothering to so much as look up when she silently took her seat across the table. She glared at him, waiting for the moment he would pay attention to something that genuinely mattered. Why was it taking him so long? “Did you see Mabel this morning?” he said finally. “Yes, she was there. Hettie, on the other hand, is very confusing.” Benjamin furrowed his brow and at last made eye . “Confusing how?” “She wants to continue working after she marries.” Lucretia sat forward. “She sees nothing wrong with it.” He chuckled. “She wants to put to use the education we paid for. How selfish of her.” “The education you paid for. Your name was on the check.” “We paid for it. Our inheritances tly pay to educate our children.” Lucretia groaned unable to appreciate her husband’s incessant need to instill in their daughters a sense of independence and self-awareness. These were not attributes society permitted women to aspire to yet alone possess, and they caused young women needless frustration when they felt they were entitled to do as they pleased, same as men. Hettie actually wanted to continue working after she married. The ridiculousness, the gall. If it weren’t for Benjamin, she wouldn’t have such notions. Lucretia felt gooseflesh form on her arms as she acknowledged that, in addition to her husband, she also didn’t understand her own child. “Nevertheless. It is selfish of her. She should think of poor Geoffrey.”

Benjamin again chuckled. “Hettie is a strong-minded female.” “You’re being very flippant.” Lucretia put her palms on the table and stretched out her arms. “It’s not funny.” “There is nothing wrong with Hettie loving what she does. But she will quit to stay at home just like every other married woman because that is what society demands. It’s not right, but that’s what society demands.” “Well, then why teach our daughters to be independent-minded if society won’t permit them to be truly independent?” He narrowed his brow and looked down his nose at her. “It’s the principle of the thing.” “It’s maddening.” Lucretia stabbed the butter with the knife, but Benjamin did not flinch. He instead picked up a week-old issue of the Ottawa Citizen and was mentally transported to the city he lived in before he met Lucretia. At least there, no one was harping about women’s status in society.

Happiest Day of Her Life, but Not His

“K eep an eye on the time, please,” Benjamin said to anyone who would listen as he repeatedly checked his pocket watch, snapping the lid shut each time with a forceful click. “The bride cannot be late for her own wedding.” Lucretia and Benjamin’s middle son, Frederick, descended the main staircase, slouching with both jacket and waistcoat unbuttoned. He plodded past his father, his elder brother Walter and his brothers-in-law, Gardner and James, without so much as a nod of acknowledgement before parking himself on one of the sittingroom chairs. He refused to make eye and instead gazed out the window at the canopy of leaves created by the property’s maple trees. Freddie was followed down the stairs by the youngest Steward son, Thomas, who was adjusting his tie. Tommy was barely 18 but acknowledged everyone with the air of an older man. His commencement from high school along with a recent job in a local architect’s office had given him a boost of not only confidence, but hubris. With a bounce in his step, he bounded over to the sofa and sat next to his younger sister, Adelaide. Adelaide was four years younger than Tommy and had no interest in fashion, hairstyles or cosmetics. As a consequence, while all the other women in the house were upstairs getting Hettie groomed and primped, she already was dressed and ing her time reading a well-worn copy of her favorite book, Wuthering Heights. She barely looked up when Tommy sat beside her. “I can’t wait to see Maeve,” Tommy said in reference to Maeve Bartlette, the groom’s only sister. “She’ll look so lovely in her dress. I can’t wait until the reception so I can talk to her. At school the other day, she agreed to read my poetry. I’m so nervous what she’ll think.” Adelaide rolled her eyes at her brother but said nothing. “Not that Maeve is a literary expert or anything, but I will be crushed if she doesn’t like it. She enjoys when I recite Byron.” “I’m trying to read,” Adelaide said. “You’re always reading. How often do I get to see Maeve fresh and glowing?”

“‘Fresh and glowing’?” She rolled her eyes again. “You see Maeve at school all the time.” Disgusted, Freddie bolted to his feet and exited the room, slamming the door behind himself. The slam shook the wall and briefly jarred everyone in the room from their conversations. Benjamin shook his head and followed his son. “She’s the most beautiful girl in the world,” Tommy said, not skipping a beat.

ADELAIDE THREW HER book down on the sofa. “Walter, make him stop.” Walter, who was standing in the corner with Gardner and James discussing the Mexican Revolution, crossed his arms. “Tommy,” he said in a tone reminiscent of Benjamin, “leave Adelaide alone. If you love Maeve so much, you should marry her. Today is Hettie’s day.” Tommy’s face flushed. Love was a word not to be used lightly. It was best saved for Valentine cards and couples like Hettie and Geoffrey. Tommy became quiet, and Adelaide smirked before picking up her book and resuming her reading.

WHEN BENJAMIN LEFT the sitting room, he did not follow his son, but instead went upstairs in search of his wife, his concern over the family’s tardiness overriding his interest in Freddie’s temper tantrum. He cracked open the master bedroom door. “Lucretia, it’s getting late. Are the girls getting ready?” Lucretia was sitting on the bed, handkerchief crumpled in her fist. “Yes. Can’t you hear them?” The muffled sounds of gossip and giggling could be overheard from the adjacent room. Benjamin crinkled his nose. “The fact they’re noisy doesn’t mean they’re getting ready,” he said. “I’ll go check on them shortly.” Lucretia wiped her eyes. “I’m feeling sentimental.” He entered the room and came closer, stopping when he saw their wedding photo on her lap. As he glanced at his younger self – a dark-haired, broad shouldered fellow of 33 – he yearned for a moment to be young again. No, he told himself, I can’t fall into my wife’s sentimentality. “Are you going to do this every time a daughter marries?” he said. “It brings back good memories.” “It does. I know.” He sat on the bed and took her hand. “But right now we are running behind schedule, and Freddie is in a prickly mood that must be rectified before we leave. Can I count on you to move things forward?” She again wiped her eyes. “Yes, I’ll be ready in a moment.” “Good.” He patted her hand and stood. “I need to go take care of Freddie.” Lucretia also rose, clenching the picture frame to her chest. Today would be the happiest day of Hettie’s life. In her early 20s, dissatisfied with the courtships and marriages she witnessed, Lucretia declared she never would get married.

Despite this declaration, she never once regretted her decision to marry Benjamin; he counter balanced her personality and reminded her she was valued. She ran her finger over the glass covering the photograph, as if the bride in the photo were not herself but some long-lost relative, before returning the frame to the dresser.

DOWNSTAIRS, FREDDIE took a bite of an oatmeal cookie, crumbs raining down his chin, and examined the pattern in the kitchen’s tin ceiling. He had never really paid attention to the pattern in the ceiling before – it was simply always there, taken for granted – but now he wondered how the tiles were manufactured and how much time they took to install. He was so engrossed in this contemplation that he did not notice when his father came through the door. “Frederick, I need to speak with you in my study now, please,” Benjamin said. The statement sounded like a request, but Freddie knew it was a demand. He turned his head, but remained expressionless. “Yes, Father.” Like a child being taken to the principal’s office, Freddie followed his father into the study. The small room was tucked into a quiet nook at the back of the house. With the exception of a large picture window overlooking the garden, the walls were covered floor to ceiling with bookcases. The shelves contained so many books they were arranged in stacks, and some were even beginning to encroach on the floor and the top of the radiator. Benjamin’s round, custommade desk was in the centre. He sat on its edge. Freddie shoved his hands into his pockets. “What is bothering you today, Freddie?” “Not a thing.” Benjamin narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t imagine you would tell me. It doesn’t matter. I already know. Everyone knows you and Hettie are close. It’s been that way your entire lives. Your mother and I are to blame for that. You shared a crib and a pram together. In hindsight, perhaps we shouldn’t have done that. In any case, you are adults now, and marrying Geoffrey is what must happen for your sister’s happiness.” “Her happiness means more than mine,” Freddie said, avoiding eye and focusing on a stack of books whose jumbled pattern of colored covers seemed too perfect to be random. “That’s being a bit dramatic, don’t you think? You mustn’t say that because your happiness is equally important. But today is Hettie’s day. Someday you will

have a bride, and you’ll want her day unspoiled.” Freddie nodded. “I understand, Father.” “Change is difficult, I know. The world is constantly changing, Freddie, and we must adapt to it.” Benjamin stood and began making his way to the door before stopping. “Get your hands out of your pockets and button your jacket and waistcoat. You look lazy.”

HETTIE SQUIRMED IN her seat, the image of Ida Morris, her eldest sister, in the mirror behind her. Ida had the power to make the bride dazzle or to cause a disaster, as she held in her hand what, on a day like today, could be considered a weapon – the curling iron. “I should have brought an extra curling iron,” Ida said, touching the iron’s barrel with her finger, “and there’s no time to run down to the kitchen and reheat this one.” Hettie felt the hair on the back of her neck stand on end. “You’re not going to leave me with one of those God awful hairstyles with the ringlets down the side like they had when Grandmother was a girl, are you?” “No,” Ida said, giving her sibling a swat on the shoulder. “I have more common sense than that. I’ll fix it.” Ida took hairpins out of a small cardboard box sitting on the vanity and, sticking several in her mouth, continued styling. While Ida continued her handiwork, Mabel and Walter’s wife, Dorothea, began discussing their own wedding days. The discussion began with talk of dresses and hairstyles but quickly descended into a conversation about something a bit personal. “And then you’re nervous about the wedding night,” Ida said, removing the last pin from between her teeth. “Did Mother have the talk with you, Hettie?” Hettie resisted the urge to nod. “Yes, and it was horribly awkward.” “A talk about what?” Alice said from the corner of the room, so eager from curiosity she was rocking back and forth on her heels. The women, having forgotten she was there, fell into silence before turning to face her. “It’s not your concern,” Hettie said, loose strands of hair falling around her face and mimicking the 1840s hairstyle she dreaded.

A smirk formed on Alice’s lips. “Of course, it’s my concern. I’m your sister, aren’t I?” “I’m not going to discuss these things with you,” Hettie said, pulling her housecoat tightly around her shoulders and turning back to the vanity mirror. Mabel hung her head, Dorothea focused at the wall, and Ida shook her finger before picking up yet another hairpin. “What things? Why is everyone being so mysterious?” Alice said, placing herself between Hettie and the vanity mirror. “Do I look all right? It took forever to get my hair this way. I’m not sure if lilac flatters me, though. Why didn’t you pick another color for your bridesmaids’ dresses, Hettie?” Ida pointed to the door. “You keep it up, I’ll make you leave. You’re too young to be in here anyhow.” “I’m nearly 16,” Alice said, the smirk growing bigger. “And I need to finish Hettie’s hair for her wedding.” “Geoffrey’s not going to care what her hair looks like.” “Well, he’s certainly not going to care about yours.” Alice pursed her lips and was about to respond when Lucretia entered the girls’ bedroom. There were five beds in the room, one for each daughter, each with its own floral bedspread. Ida and Mabel’s had been vacant since their weddings, and tonight Hettie’s bed also would go unused. Lucretia was smiling but her eyes were bloodshot, and the sight of all her daughters together, aside from the youngest, made her tears well up again. She cleared her throat and focused on the alarm clock on the nightstand between Alice and Adelaide’s beds until the moment ed. “All right, come along,” Lucretia said, recovering her composure. “We’re going to be late if we don’t hurry. Goodness, Ida, you aren’t finished yet? We need to help Hettie into her dress.” “I’m nearly finished styling,” Ida said.

Lucretia glanced at the bride’s dress hanging on a peg on the wall, and the disagreement she had with Hettie at the seamstress’s last month no longer seemed significant. If anything, it was silly and inconsequential. What really mattered was that a Steward was marrying a Bartlette. “Are you ready to marry the man of your dreams, dear?” Lucretia said. “She’s been ready all her life, Mother,” Ida said with a laugh. Hettie fell in love with Geoffrey Bartlette when they were children, and their courtship lasted eight years, unshaken even by her three years in nursing school, their class difference, and their radically different upbringings. “I’m finished,” Ida said. “It’s time for the final touch.” Hettie stood and removed her housecoat, hanging it over the back of the vanity chair. As she did, her cheeks flushed pink as if she recently had applied rouge. It was a vulnerable moment, standing there in nothing but her undergarments, stockings and white patent leather pumps. She raised her arms, and Ida and Lucretia lifted the wedding dress over her head. The women tugged on the sleeves, buttoned several fasteners and smoothed the skirt before standing back and allowing the others to lavish the bride with compliments. Everyone, that is, except Alice who wrinkled her nose. “I can see why you don’t like this dress, Hettie,” Alice said. “It’s not the most stylish thing in the world, is it?” Lucretia furrowed her brow. The last thing she needed was for the argument with Hettie to begin anew. “Alice! I should fetch the ruler and rap your knuckles for flapping your lips.” Hettie laughed. She was so happy even this dress, that she still thought was horrendous, wasn’t going to ruin her mood – and neither would Alice. “It’s all right, Mother. We all know I’d prefer cap sleeves, a lower neckline and a skirt that’s form fitting like on an opera dress.” “You’re not going to the opera, Henrietta,” Lucretia said. “It’s a wedding and you must look respectable.”

Hettie sighed. What was wrong with wearing a party dress to a wedding? It was a celebration, after all, wasn’t it?

THIS ROOM HELD MANY memories, Hettie contemplated as she absorbed every detail of Benjamin’s study. He had forced her and her siblings to read at least one book weekly as part of their education, and when they were young, they hated it. Eventually, they grew to enjoy perusing the shelves for the next adventure or bit of factual information. In addition, this also was the room where the lecturing took place, and there had been plenty of lectures, especially for her and Freddie. Finally, she focused her attention on her father. There would be no lectures today. Benjamin’s eyes were sparkling. “You look beautiful. The beauty in your soul is shining through.” “Father, you’re going to make me cry,” she said, glancing downward. “It’s true. You have an inner beauty that matches your outer beauty.” Benjamin did not give out compliments often, and she beamed. “Thank you, Father.” “Are you nervous?” “No. It is Geoffrey, after all. I’m where I should be.” “It doesn’t become easier for me, especially with my daughters,” he said, twisting his hands in front of himself. “You’re my fourth child to marry, but it’s still difficult. This is your last morning in our house. I’ll soon be giving you away.” “Geoffrey is a good man,” she said, hoping to sooth her father’s concerns. “Yes, he is. Otherwise, we wouldn’t be standing here now.” The grandfather clock in the parlor struck the hour, and they both knew it was time to leave for the church. As they exited the study, it became clear that the rest of the family had already left. Hettie took Benjamin’s arm, and they walked to the car.

Life was about to change and change for the better, she was certain of it.

For King, Country, Freedom and Self Worth

On this particular Sunday, slightly more than two months after Hettie’s wedding, every window in the Steward house was open, letting in a cross breeze, the filtered hubbub of the neighborhood and birdsongs. Canada was at war! The news dominated all the newspapers and was the talk of the town, but the Stewards had yet to gather and discuss it formally. Those assemblies were reserved for Sundays when the extended Steward family gathered for a meal and debate. There was one exception – a lone, abbreviated, unsatisfactory conversation between Hettie and Walter the day the war declaration was announced. Walter had treated Hettie as if she did not have a mind of her own, as if she were her husband’s property. This was not behavior expected from one of Benjamin Steward’s sons, and not only didn’t she understand her brother, she hadn’t quite forgiven him. She moved her chair closer to Geoffrey’s and smiled as Freddie’s bulldog, Flossie, wandered into the dining room. The family’s pets generally weren’t allowed inside the house, so this was an unexpected surprise. The pooch had no doubt entered after the housekeeper, Mrs. Norris, left the kitchen door open to cool the room. Flossie sniffed the perimeter of the room before finding her master. Freddie slipped her a piece of chicken from his plate, and the dog left, tail wagging. The atmosphere was calm and relaxed while everyone was engaged in their meal. Hettie’s heart sped up, however, when Geoffrey took her hand. Now was the time. The family’s serenity was about to be shattered. “We have an announcement to make,” he said, his voice firm and confident. Once they heard the announcement, she would be unable to face them, Freddie most of all. Hettie smiled shyly then averted her eyes in an effort to avoid everyone’s gaze but her husband’s, and clenched Geoffrey’s hand until her fingers grew white. “I’ve decided to enlist and do my bit,” he said. “I’m going to Toronto in the morning to make it official.”

“And I’m going to the nursing service and go with him,” Hettie said, somehow finding the courage to lift her head and make eye with her family. The announcement was met with silence, a quiet so hushed any sudden noise would have made everyone in the room flinch. At the very least, Hettie knew, the family was expecting an announcement about a new job or even a pregnancy, so news about enlistment had to be jarring, perhaps downright shocking. The silence lasted mere seconds, broken by the one person Hettie knew would have the most to say – her mother. Lucretia, seated at the foot of the table, appeared calm, but Hettie knew she was a kettle on the verge of whistling. The steam was building behind the unperturbed exterior. “Why would you do this?” Lucretia said. Geoffrey opened his mouth, but she cut him off, shaking her head. “I don’t believe it. I honestly don’t believe it.” Lucretia was the first to speak, but her opinion invited others to contribute theirs in rapid succession. Tommy leaned forward. “Don’t we have the free will to do what we want?” “Not if it puts one’s life in danger,” Ida said. “And especially not if it puts my sister’s life in danger.” “Our sister, or have you forgotten? I don’t want Hettie in danger any more than you do. I don’t like the decision; I am merely ing her right to make the decision.” Alice stood, and twisted back and forth slightly, her hands on her shoulders. “If we have the right to do anything we want, then I’m going to become queen of England because the world revolves around me. Isn’t that right, Hettie? Doesn’t the world revolve around you?” “Well, I—” Hettie was trembling, hand still firmly grasping Geoffrey’s. “There’s a greater good here. A means to—”

Mabel locked eyes with her closest sister. “There is no greater good when you’re abandoning us,” she said, bursting into tears. “Abandoning? No!” Gardner laughed, a mischievous look on his face. As the debate raged, voices grew increasingly louder. Lucretia was crying. Benjamin’s face was beet red. The siblings were pointing, gesturing and talking over one another. Watching all of this, Hettie felt increasingly hot and wondered if she might faint. Instead, she dug her heels into the floral pastel carpet and forced herself to listen to everything they had to say. Adelaide, who had been in the breakfast room with Ida’s daughters, ran into the dining room. “What happened?” she said, her voice barely audible above the din as she entered the fray. No one responded. Benjamin stood, knocking over his chair in the process. Adelaide gasped and took a step backward. Hettie flinched, feeling like a child about to get her knuckles rapped, and hung her head. Everyone stopped speaking, frozen in place. Even Mabel and Lucretia stopped crying. “This is insane,” Benjamin said, voice booming. “This is a European man’s war!” He didn’t wait to hear what Hettie or Geoffrey had to say in their own defense and turned, his cane clomping on the carpet as he attempted to make a hasty escape. Walter blinked with each clomp. Finally, he turned to his sister. “I’m sorry for what I said, Hettie. I was wrong. I’m sorry.” She lifted her head to respond, but Benjamin intervened, quickly hobbling back to the table.

“What did you say?” Benjamin pounded his fist on the table. “What did you say?!” Despite being a 26-year-old man, Walter’s eyes were as wide as a young boy’s, and Hettie felt as if they had been transported back to childhood while remaining in their adult bodies. “She came to me to ask my opinion about the war starting” Walter said, his voice unsteady, “and I told her to seek Geoffrey’s instead.” “Why would you tell her that?” “Because I was at work, and I didn’t want my subordinates knowing I discuss politics with women, so I implied that she shouldn’t have an opinion of her own. I’m sorry. I let foolish male pride get in the way. I—” Benjamin pointed at his son. “Jesus! I raised you better than that. And you, too,” he said, directing his accusing finger at Hettie. She swallowed and focused on her hands that were fidgeting in her lap, any lingering resentment over her squabble with Walter evaporated. Benjamin made his exit, somehow managing to leave in haste. “You just ruined my sixteenth,” Alice said, referring to her birthday, before storming out of the room through the opposite doorway. Gardner pointed to Geoffrey although he was squinting at Hettie. “He can go if he wants. Let him go. But why does she need to go? Women shouldn’t be on the battlefield.” “It’s dangerous,” Freddie said, his voice soft and barely audible in contrast to the others’ bellowing tones. Hettie shifted her gaze to her precious brother. His face was ashen, and his eyes moist. For the first time since making her decision to the nursing service, she felt a pang of guilt and could not bring herself to respond to him. “The war will be over soon,” Geoffrey said, more to Hettie than anyone else.

“Then why go?” Freddie said, his voice stronger than a moment ago. “We’ll have the honeymoon we couldn’t have when it’s over. It’ll be over soon, I’m sure of it. There’s the possibility it’ll end before we even leave for the front.” “If it’s a honeymoon you desire, I’ll lend you the money,” Ida’s husband James said, and she nodded in agreement. “All I want to do is help people,” Hettie said, “and I’m good at it.” It took every ounce of self-control to hold back the deluge of tears that was about to come. Unwilling to let her family see any emotion, Hettie stood, and ran from the room, exiting through a third doorway. She sprinted through the kitchen, startling Mrs. Norris, and out into the backyard. When Hettie heard heavy breathing, she stopped. It was Flossie’s panting. The dog was laying immersed in shadow just outside the door on the brick patio, and Hettie sat beside her, the coolness of the bricks seeping through her cotton dress. She began stroking Flossie behind the ears and was rewarded with an eager wag of the tail. “I can see why Freddie loves you so much. You are a dear. I can’t face your master. I have disappointed him, perhaps beyond repair.” A minute or two later, Mabel stepped out into the garden and shielded her eyes from the sun with her arm. “Hettie, are you all right?” Her sister didn’t look up. “Gardner doesn’t like Geoffrey, does he?” Mabel bit her lip, wondering if now would be a good time to lie. She sighed, opting against it. “No, I’m afraid. He sees a working class, uneducated man and nothing else.” “He hasn’t bothered to get to know him. Not really. He only sees what he wants to see.” Mabel sighed again and lowered herself to the ground. “He won’t be able to get to know him now if you go away.” Hettie changed her focus from Flossie to Mabel. “There’s work to be done.”

“Work? I don’t understand,” she said, before ing the disagreement at Hettie’s dress fitting. Work meant the nursing service. Hettie straightened her back. “Haven’t you ever wanted something so badly you weren’t going to let anyone or anything stop you?” “No. But I know you have.” Suddenly, the entire situation was clear to Mabel. Hettie wanted to work so badly she would do anything for the opportunity. Perhaps this furlough from reality was what Hettie needed to give her a sense of fulfillment. Mabel also yearned for freedom, but it was a liberation of another sort. She longed for the right to do things and go places without asking Gardner’s permission, and she envied that Geoffrey wanted Hettie in Europe with him. “No one in there is going to give you their blessing,” Mabel said, taking Hettie’s hand, “but I will if you make me a promise.” Hettie’s eyes brightened. “Anything.” “Promise me you’ll be back before I give birth. I can’t do this without you.” “We have five more months. Everyone says the war will be over before Christmas.” “Good.” Mabel said, smiling. “I’ll be big as a whale by the time you get home. You won’t even recognize me.” “I will not be gone for such a length of time that I will be unable to recognize my closest sister.” “I’m still your closest then? You haven’t replaced me with Alice?” “You’re just being silly. Her birthday isn’t ruined. Geoffrey and I will still be Canada then. I already bought her gift. It’s wrapped and everything. I—” “Hettie, you’re babbling. Now, go make peace with Mother and Father. The rest of the family will follow.” Hettie tilted her head. “It would be a lost cause.”

“We’re family, whether we like it or not. You need to make amends. You can’t leave Barrie cross.” Hettie titled her head in the opposite direction and felt the sun on her skin. “Yes, of course, but they won’t understand.” “Then make them understand, Hettie. Only you can explain how ionate you are about saving others.”

HETTIE ATTEMPTED NOT to wring her hands as she sat in the sitting room across from her parents. Benjamin was leaning, elbow on the sofa back and head resting on his hand, but despite his casual posture, his eyes were glaring. Lucretia wore an expression that said she demanded answers. Hettie swallowed hard, prepared for a verbal assault. “What kind of husband allows his wife to accompany him to a war zone?” Lucretia said. “Not a very good one, that’s what kind. If we knew this, we would have forbad you to marry him.” Hettie grimaced. What a horrible thing to say about Geoffrey, her everything. Hettie wanted to fight back, to scream at her mother that Geoffrey was the best husband she could ask for when she ed what Mabel’s words: Then make them understand, Hettie. Only you can explain how ionate you are about saving others. “No, quite the contrary,” Hettie said, her head high. “He’s giving me a gift.” “A gift?” Benjamin sat forward, his glare even more piercing. “How is enlistment a gift? I should have you both committed.” “Because he knows how much I miss my job. He’s giving me this opportunity, no matter how short, to work again.” Lucretia slammed her fist into the sofa cushion, narrowly missing Benjamin’s thigh. “Oh, not this again.” “I enjoy being a nursing sister, Mother. It brings me fulfillment.” “Marriage should bring you fulfillment.” Benjamin held up his hand to discourage Lucretia from continuing. “So all of this is about being able to continue working?” Who knew Father would be won over so easily? Hettie suppressed a smile. “Well, my part in it is. Geoffrey’s motivations are different.”

For several minutes, Benjamin said nothing, his face going through a carousel of various expressions as he pondered what his daughter said. The women anxiously awaited his response. Lucretia’s hands were still clenched in fists, and Hettie dared not take a deep breath. “You must arrive home safely,” he said when he finally broke the silence. Lucretia snapped her head toward her husband so quickly it was painful to witness. “That’s it? You were so infuriated with Walter for saying the wrong things, but Hettie wants to go a warfront and it’s fine?” “I have nothing more to say.” “I know you have more to say.” “It’s a waste of breath, Lucretia. There’s nothing we can do.” “There’s always something we can do. She is our child.” “She is married now. She is an adult.” Lucretia left the room, having never once released her fists. Hettie watched her leave, all hopes of reconciliation dashed. How could anything be resolved when family were constantly leaving the room instead of facing the situation? Hettie interlaced her fingers and pressed her thumbnails together. “I’m sorry, Father, that I’m a disappointment.” “Your mother and I must learn to accept that most of our children are grown and, from time to time, will do things we don’t like. You’ll find out for yourself someday.” “Father, I—” “You had best return to your husband before he thinks we’ve abducted you.” Hettie wanted to say more, to really make Father understand and not simply to empathize with her, but now that she had been dismissed, any further discussion would be impossible. She stood, thanked him and, eyes focused on her feet,

made the trip back to the dining room where Geoffrey was waiting for her. “Let’s go home,” she said, eager to put this entire afternoon behind her and begin the next phase of their lives.

1915

The Worthless Husband

Lucretia slipped her arm out of the quilt she was wearing as a shawl and took Mabel’s hand as her daughter was stricken with another contraction. “Would you like to hear the story of your birth?” she said. When the pain subsided, Mabel squeezed her mother’s hand. “If it would please you to tell me.” “It would please me very much. I the births of all my children; each was slightly different. It’s not true that you’ll forget the pain. You’ll it, but it serves a purpose. Without the pain I would not have you, my child. “You were born on a day completely opposite this one, a warm June morning. We were living at our old house. You don’t it much; we moved when you were little. Your father was at work. Ida and Walter were too young for school, so they were staying with Aunt Sadie. It was such a pleasant day. I wanted to sit outside, but Grandmother said the neighbors might see me and gossip. “Since we had both a boy and a girl at that point, it was difficult to predict what you might be. I said you would be a girl and, of course, I was right. My sweet baby girl, I was so happy when you arrived. “You were such a well-behaved baby, too, nothing like those hellions that followed you.” Mabel smirked. It was unlike Lucretia to be so tender and sentimental. Why didn’t she show this side of herself more often? Another contraction came, and the smirk faded as Mabel clenched the bedsheets. “What happens if the midwife doesn’t come in time, Mother?” “We’ll deal with it if it happens. Ida will be here soon even if the midwife isn’t.” “I’m frightened.” “That’s normal. Hettie should be here, not in Europe. She promised us all a quick return, but yet she remains there.”

“You know that’s not her fault.” “How is it not her fault?” Tears filled Mabel’s eyes and began streaming down her cheeks as she was gripped with another contraction. The physical torment was intense, but there was a pain that burned deep inside her that hurt even more. More than anything she wanted Hettie there, not only because Hettie was her sister and her best friend, but also because she the only one in the family with the medical knowledge. Hettie was not like Mabel; her sister didn’t panic under pressure and always seemed to know what to do no matter the situation. The word “why” escaped Mabel’s mouth before she could stifle it. “It’s your body doing its job, child,” Lucretia said. That wasn’t the question Mabel had been asking, but she didn’t bother correcting her mother. What she really wanted to know was why the war had not ended, and why Hettie could not come home. Why had Hettie not come home? She had promised she would return in time. She gave her solemn vow. Mabel’s breath quickened to the point she was hyperventilating. She wanted to complain, wanted to express her rage in the only way possible, by screaming at the top of her lungs, but she was unable to speak and barely unable to breathe. Lucretia was saying something about staying calm for the sake of the baby, but Mabel couldn’t comprehend. She was going to die, she just knew it, without Hettie there. The doorbell rang. Mabel’s hyperventilating eased when, for an instant, she thought it was Hettie at the door. What a foolish, childish daydream. Hettie was not home. Hettie would not come home for a very long time. Hettie may never come home.

EXHAUSTED AND COVERED in sweat, Mabel closed her eyes and sank into her pillow. This agony at least was over, concluded with the wails of a newborn son. Hettie, of course, was still away, and that pain would linger well beyond when Mabel’s body healed. “Finally, a grandson after three girls,” Lucretia said. “Yes, Mother,” Ida said. “, there was once a time when you had three girls and a boy.” Ida sounded irritated. After all, she was the one who had given birth to those three granddaughters. Moreover, she and James wanted no more children, and Ida was aware it was a decision Lucretia did not understand. Lucretia, however, didn’t sense her daughter’s irk and said, “But then Freddie came sooner than expected.” “Freddie wasn’t born early,” Ida said, still sounding annoyed. “He was conceived sooner than we wanted. Haven’t you ever wondered why he and Hettie were born so close together compared to the rest of you?” “No, I haven’t,” Ida said, scrunching her nose. “Ever.” Mabel opened her eyes. “Mother is nothing but honest.” The midwife, who had managed to arrive just in time, placed the cleaned and swaddled baby in Mabel’s arms. “I’ll leave you with a list of instructions, ma’am. Make sure your husband allows you time to heal.” “That’ll be the day,” Lucretia said to Ida. “Go ring James and make sure he stops Gardner before he leaves for church.” Ida nodded before following the midwife down the stairs to the kitchen.

IDA STRESSED IN HER phone call to James that the baby had been born and that Gardner should come immediately to meet his son. She repeated the message multiple times, yet, despite the three block difference between the Morris and the Hill houses, it took Gardner three hours to return home. When he finally made an appearance, he was sloppy and disinterested, not once holding the baby or even touching him. “I’m going ice fishing,” Gardner said, his attention on something outside the window. “You don’t need me anyway. Your mother and sister are still around here somewhere.” “You’re going fishing on a Sunday?” Mabel tried to sit and felt twinge in her abdominal muscles. “On the Sunday your son is born? Your only child.” “Like I said, you have help.” Her jaw tightened. “We haven’t even named him yet.” “How long does that take?” She bit her lip, drawing blood. How long does it take? Naming a child was not a five-minute decision. It was a decision that necessitated consideration and much thought because the child was stuck with the name for life. When her parents were having their children, they spent weeks deciding on each name. They considered the names of family , historical figures, celebrities and literary characters before deciding. They asked friends’ opinions and made lists of pros and cons. Then they decided. There was no point explaining any of this to Gardner. He would have some flippant response, so she gave the shortest response possible. “It takes a while, Gardner.” He sighed. Or was it more like a groan of displeasure? “You pick a name, and I won’t object unless it’s awfully ugly like Ebenezer or Jeddah or something.” “One of my great-great-grandfathers was named Ebenezer.” “Only your family would remotely know or even care about a long dead

ancestor. I said no to the name. Rejected it. Dickens ruined the name with his Christmas story, although it was ugly long before that. Pick something nice.” Mabel could have enlightened him on how Ebenezer was actually a popular name more than a century ago but, once again, there was no point. She did not respond and instead pondered appropriate names. While he waited, Gardner leaned back against the headboard and closed his eyes. “Charles Phillip,” she finally said. “I’ve always liked Charles and Phillip after your father.” Gardner opened his eyes and popped off the bed. “Well, that’s resolved.” “Where are you going?” “Did I or did I not say I was going fishing?” He threw his wife a kiss before fleeing the room, closing the door with enough force the baby began to fuss. Mabel threw her head back and exhaled. “That’s your father, Charles. He is often like this. Best get used to it now.”

-ENTRY IN LUCRETIA’S journalJanuary 10, 1915 Three sons-in-law and only one can be counted on: James. Geoffrey would be reliable if he was here, and you know my opinion on that. Gardner is useless. When the baby was coming, Gardner rang for me to come immediately. However, he didn’t offer to come drive me, and I was forced to walk. I know this means he didn’t really want me there. It was Mabel who requested my presence. When I arrived at the Hill household, I was covered in snow, and my digits were numb. I asked him to make me a pot of tea and a hot water bottle. He balked until I told him even an idiot can turn on a gas stove and boil water. In the end, I got my way, but I was grateful when he left for the Morris house. The baby, of course, definitely is a Steward, doing whatever it likes. This morning was one of the coldest nights of the year. Benjamin said, “It’s January, Lucretia. It’s always one of the coldest nights of the year. Perhaps the child should have a gestation like a whale or an elephant, and Mabel can give birth when the weather is more favorable. But by then it might interfere with Victoria Day or Dominion Day.” I told him to stop being funny. How he could make light of such a thing, I’ll never know. Then again, Benjamin has been making light of many things as of late. I’m concerned about him.

-ENTRY IN MABEL’S DIARY-

January 15, 1915 THIS IS THE FIRST DAY I’ve been permitted to touch you, dear journal. Gardner told me writing would be too taxing on my mind. I think it actually is more taxing on his poor fingers to retrieve you from the drawer. On the morning the baby, whom I have named Charles Phillip, was born I awoke in pain. I jostled Gardner awake and asked him to ring the midwife. He seemed reluctant to get out of bed, but he did ring her. She was occupied elsewhere and couldn’t make it until later in the day. I was fearful she would not make it, but she did arrive in time. In any case, I also asked him to ring Mother. He didn’t want to do so at three in the morning, but I insisted, saying I both wanted and needed her here with me. He had the gall to tell me it was Hettie, not Mother, who should be here because Hettie made a promise. Of course, I wish Hettie were here; her absence causes a pang in my heart. She would have come without question. She would have waited with me and held my hand, and she wouldn’t complain like Gardner. But I refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing I’m disappointed she is still in Europe. I told him it was not her fault the war had not ended, which it isn’t, even if I miss her more each day. He continued to insist that calling Mother would do no good and then said to me, “At least Hettie listens to her husband.” Gardner was very upset he had to give up his bed simply so I could give birth. He seemed insulted to know he would have make three phone calls, because he also had to ring James and Ida. I increasingly believe I have not one child now but two. One is a newborn, and one is 25 years old.

DEAREST SISTER, I am hoping this letter finds you well. I think of you often, and sometimes I forget that you are not home. For instance, just the other day, I finished reading a book I was convinced you would enjoy. I had it set in my mind that I would bring this book with me to Sunday dinner and ask you if you wanted to borrow it. I even put it on the table in the foyer and set my gloves on it so I would not forget. It wasn’t until sometime later that the realization struck me. You would not be at Sunday dinner. I sadly removed the book from the foyer and put it on a shelf in the study for safekeeping. This is not the first time something like this has occurred. How goes your work? Are there many wounded in your hospital? Have you seen Geoffrey? I’m interested to know what your days are like. It appears letters between us will take at least a fortnight. That is the fastest any of your correspondence has arrived, so please, dearest sister, respond the day you receive my letters and I shall do the same. This way we will keep the “conversation” going. I write you today with news you have no doubt been eagerly waiting for and with another piece of news that will come as a complete surprise. First, I will start with the news you are eagerly waiting. Mabel has given birth to her child. It is a boy. He was born the third of January and has been named Charles Phillip Hill. I know you had promised her you’d return in time for the birth. Do not let this bother you. I do not think she is cross with you. She understands. But Mother .... On one hand, Mother is happy with the birth of her fourth grandchild, her first grandson (after all I could only give her girls), but, on the other hand, she also is frantic. The family is not complete. You are not home, and this is something beyond her control. I have told her that you are simply obeying your husband’s wishes and doing your duty in service of our country, but my words have had no effect. Be prepared for her next letters to you to be unjustifiably cruel as we all know she is not skilled at keeping her opinions to herself Meanwhile, I’m certain you have not heard of this yet. Victor has enlisted. He

did so less than two days ago. No one is exactly certain why. Perhaps it is because he has always idolized Geoffrey and wants to do whatever his brother does, but one would think he’d be too old for such childish behaviours. Perhaps it is from a sense of duty. Or perhaps, like you, he suffers from wanderlust. Do not be surprised to see him, if you should, and warn Geoffrey as well of the possibility. Mrs. Bartlette is upset, of course. She didn’t want him to go, begged him not to, but he wouldn’t listen. She told him he had a good job; why was he leaving it? Since when has working for a grocer unloading crates and cleaning up horse manure been a good job? Makes me shake my head. I’m glad Father taught us to hope for better. That is all from here for now. James, the girls and I are all well. I await your next letter. Your sister, Ida Morris

DEAR IDA, Thank you for your letter. I have written Mabel, and I hope to hear from her soon. I am sorry I didn’t make it home in time for baby Charles’ birth. Mabel may not be cross with me, but I am cross with myself. I do not make promises I have no intention of keeping. I was initially shocked when I read your letter, but I should not be surprised to hear Victor enlisted. He always did ire Geoffrey and wanted to be like him. I never did see another child worship his older brother liked that. Yes, I am enjoying my work. Being a nursing sister brings me a great deal of fulfillment. I am indebted to Geoffrey, since he suggested it. Geoffrey and I are all right. We were able to spend 10 days together at Christmas. The Canadian Expeditionary Force will be moving to the Continent soon. We are excited finally to be doing our part. I will be writing you again soon. Your sister. Hettie Bartlette

SWEETEST MABEL, My sincere and humble apologies for breaking my promise to you. I can’t think of another time in our entire lives when I did not keep my word. I had wanted to be there for the birth, to share in your joy and to help you, and I feel very remorseful for having missed it. You know me well enough to know that I do not say things I don’t mean. I am not a person of hollow words. Ida tells me she does not believe you are cross with me. But if you are, even deep inside where you lock away your inner thoughts, please find it in your heart to forgive me, as you know I would do the same for you. Circumstances beyond my control keep me here. Congratulations on the birth of your son. Did the midwife treat you well? Are you strong and rested? Is Charles sleeping through the night? Please tell me everything and do not leave out any detail. Let him know his dear Auntie loves him and hopes to meet him soon. Again, my apologies. With regrets, Hettie Bartlette

DEAR HETTIE, My apologizes for the lateness of my response. I had been put on the customary one week bed rest and, after that, well, there are things that happen to the human body after childbirth that I never knew. Ida has told me all about them, but, of course, when they are happening there is little time to prepare. You will find out for yourself some day. Once I was able to move about, I quickly discovered Gardner is useless when it comes to parenting. He does nothing. Of course, I know men don’t change diapers, but this goes beyond that. He won’t so much as pick up Charles or even speak to him. I am frustrated beyond imagination. I am not cross with you. At times, I think I am the only one who isn’t cross with you. I understand this war is beyond your control and that it is dragging out longer than expected. Everyone else seems to think you can come and go as you please as if you have made no commitments. I know better, and I wish you well. I hope you can return home soon. Your loving sister, Mabel Hill

Only Able to Say the Wrong Things

Geoffrey’s mother, Amelia Bartlette, and Lucretia had been friends since they were six years old, having met at school. After Amelia ended her education to go to work, the friends established a routine of meeting regularly for tea and commiseration. This routine was seldom broken over the course of the last 30 or so years. Lucretia took the teacups Mrs. Norris had filled off their silver tray and placed them on the table. “I’ve been waiting for our meeting for days,” Amelia said, her teacup rattling against its saucer as she raised it to her worn lips. Lucretia dropped two sugar cubes in her cup. “And why is that? I saw you at church after Charles arrived. That was only two days ago.” “Oh, it’s my Victor,” Amelia said and let out a large gasp. “I don’t know what’s on his mind sometimes.” “I don’t know what’s on half of my children’s minds all the time.” The teacup clanged against the saucer so hard it no doubt chipped. “He’s enlisted, and they’re sending him overseas.” Lucretia flinched at the sound of her tea set being damaged, but maintained a blank expression. “Is he escaping some sort of trouble?” Victor was influenced easily by others and spent the bulk of his free time in taverns. “No, no, I certainly hope not. Has he said anything to Freddie?” Lucretia shook her head. Amelia knew just as well as everyone else that Victor and Freddie hadn’t been good friends for years despite being close as children. Freddie was a member of the Barrie Police Service, and it only took arresting Victor once for public drunkenness to put a crimp in the friendship. “I think he did it because he wants to emulate Geoffrey,” Amelia said.

“There are other ways to emulate Geoffrey. He could marry a nice girl, for example.” “I told him he was foolish to leave a good job. The store said they would not hold the position. At least Geoffrey’s employer is keeping his position open until he returns home.” Lucretia didn’t bother to correct Amelia about the large difference between the positions the brothers held. Geoffrey was a clerk in a solicitor’s office while Victor worked for a grocer unloading deliveries and cleaning up horse manure. “Some employers are doing that,” Lucretia said, trying to sound upbeat. “Yes, I suppose if they are feeling generous.” “Generous? It is my boys who are generous.” Generous toward whom? The government? Lucretia thought before handing Amelia a tray of tarts and urging her to take one. “Do you hear from Geoffrey often?” “Yes, but sometimes he says awful things.” “What, for instance?” Tears wetted Amelia’s eyes, and she turned her head. “I don’t want to talk about it, but the words cannot possibly be his.” Bursting into tears for no clear reason was typical Amelia behavior and something Lucretia had grown accustomed to, although she didn’t understand it. There once were reasons. In those days, Lucretia could comfort Amelia, but that was no longer. How could Lucretia help Amelia if she wasn’t specific about her problems? Changing the subject might help. Lucretia scrutinized the room for something that might be a conversation starter and spotted one of Benjamin’s books on the sidebar. Of course, Tommy and Maeve’s graduation. “You must be proud of Maeve’s matriculation,” Lucretia said, believing the approaching ceremony was a happy occasion.

“What she is going to do with all that education, I’d like to know.” Lucretia sighed. This was turning out to be one of those days when everything she said was the wrong thing. “Well, sophisticated men value women of fine breeding. Walter and Dorothea are a fine match, and I know Tommy cares for Maeve very much. As for Freddie,” Lucretia rolled her eyes, “he ended his courtship with Posie Walker. He said she was silly and immature although why it took him three years to find this out I’ll never know.” Beautiful Posie did not have an intellectual bone her body, and her father worked at the flourmill, but the Stewards liked her. In this instance, Lucretia felt personality could overcome upbringing. Apparently, Freddie did not. “I am pleased your Hettie married my Geoffrey,” Amelia said, putting her hand on Lucretia’s. “And I’m pleased my Teddy married his Caroline. Gilbert, God bless him, will never attract a woman. He walked to Allandale today to visit the train station. I think he’s as troubled as I am about this situation with Victor. And Victor seems not to know what kind of girls he prefers.” Before Lucretia could answer, Alice and Adelaide burst through the front door, and it was obvious from the volume of their voices that they were arguing once again. Amelia had known the girls since birth and was as intimately familiar with their personalities as their mother and seemed not to notice the girls’ bickering. Lucretia, however, felt her cheeks burn. Why must everything between those two be a dramatic production? She excused herself and found her daughters had barely left the reception room, schoolbooks sitting on the bottom step of the staircase. “What is wrong with you?” Lucretia said, keeping her rage at a whisper. “You’re embarrassing me.” Alice explained she was invited to a classmate’s birthday party but had no desire to go because of the girl’s “odd peculiarities” which she neither liked nor appreciated, and Adelaide thought Alice was being rude. “My dear child, you fail to realize how privileged you are,” Lucretia said to

Alice. “Most girls your age have much more to worry about than frivolous parties. They have jobs, some are getting married, and they have real problems like hunger and poverty, and housekeeping. You, on the other hand, have the privilege of education and remaining young just a bit longer. Your only burdens are your studies and your social obligations. You will go to the party, and you will be gracious.” Alice pursed her lips, nostrils flaring, and ran up the stairs. Adelaide snickered and followed. These girls of mine. Between those two and Hettie, I shall be committed to the madhouse in no time. Crisis adverted, Lucretia shook her head and returned to the dining room with the intention of apologizing to Amelia, but her friend was crying. She sighed. “What is the matter now, Amelia?” “I overheard what you told the girls. It brought Geoffrey to mind and how he so wanted to continue his education and better his station in life but couldn’t.” Lucretia sat and took a sip of tea. “Geoffrey could not help his father’s death came when it did.” “Gordon’s death wasn’t the problem. He never wanted Geoffrey to continue his schooling and complained about it constantly. He made Geoffrey feel terrible about himself for being ill and staying in school. When Gordon was dying, dying horribly from meningitis – how much pain he was in – he called Geoffrey to his bedside and told him it was time he become a man and quit school because he’d never amount to anything anyway.” “What did Geoffrey say?” Lucretia said, a pins-and-needles feeling overcoming her. “He said nothing other than to agree. I think that’s why he’s in Europe now. He’s proving he is a man who can amount to something.” “That’s horrible. I never knew Gordon was so callus.” But, of course, she did know. When Gordon was alive, Lucretia suspected he showed a different face to his family than he did everyone else, but she never

had any direct proof. There had been signs. Lucretia saw bruises on Amelia’s arms one summer, and Mabel took a photo of the Bartlette house when she was testing her new Brownie that appeared to show Gordon in the background taking a switch to Teddy. “Yes.” Amelia wiped her eyes. “His end befit him well. It was horrible like him.” Lucretia thought of Benjamin and how this revelation would make him angry. Good thing Gordon is gone, she thought, or else there would be hell to pay.

-ENTRY IN BENJAMIN’S journalJanuary 12, 1915 Lucretia had one of those infernal teas with Amelia today. I’m not certain how she bears them. Amelia is not the same person Lucretia knew in their maidenhood. She is much changed, and I blame that dead husband of hers. I fear he has negatively altered the children as well. Both Geoffrey and Maeve stayed in school beyond the compulsory grade six because they had been too sickly for steady employment. When Gordon died in 1906, Geoffrey left school to work, whether his constitution or will allowed it. Maeve was only ten, so her mother allowed her to stay enrolled, and now she is about to become the first person in her family to graduate from high school. This much we have known for years, but I thought Geoffrey exited school of his own volition. Had I known he exited because of something Gordon said to him, I would have tutored him myself. No one knew, however. Lucretia doesn’t think even Hettie knows, but feels there is no reason to tell her. So long as Geoffrey is in Europe, Hettie will be there also. If the situation wasn’t so serious, I probably would chuckle. The specter of Gordon is to blame – for everything. If it were not for him, Geoffrey would have completed his education and probably would have not involved himself in this war nonsense, and if Geoffrey hadn’t involved himself, then Hettie would be home. If Gordon thought going to school wasn’t something a man does, then what did he think of Walter, Freddie or Tommy? Or me? I let this man into my house. And then there is news about Victor. He has enlisted. Yet another young person who has lost his mind. I don’t know what’s wrong with the Bartlettes. I don’t understand how the government could be sending Victor to Europe. I thought the army had a surplus of overzealous volunteers. And the CEF has been over there for months, waiting. They might as well send them home. A lot of good it does for them to be there.

That aside, the rest of the events Lucretia related to me were bemusing. Per usual, it is always some crisis with Amelia, and Alice believes the world revolves around her. Someday, she will learn. Someday.

Freddie Makes a Decision

The Stewards excelled at speculation. After all, speculation was a mere extension of curiosity, an exercise in possibilities. Some days, however, speculation was excruciating and succeeded in accomplishing nothing other than making a stressful situation worse. Benjamin and Lucretia were conspicuously missing from church that morning. On the rare occasion, one parent or the other missed services, but never both. What was behind their mysterious absence? As Freddie sat with his siblings in the sitting room, he knew damn well that the telegram that arrived yesterday did not bring good news. How could it have? Good news never came via telegram. Not anymore. This was wartime. Nevertheless, he kept quiet and listened to the verbal exchange happening around him. “Does Father have rheumatic fever again?” Walter said. “No, Father is healthy,” Alice said. “I saw him myself this morning.” “Is Mother ill then?” “No one is sick,” Alice said. “It’s probably bad news. Mrs. Bartlette was here last night, and with that big battle last week—” “It takes a fortnight for a letter to get here,” Mabel said. “It’s too early to have news from the front.” “Mrs. Bartlette was here with a piece of paper. A telegram—” Alice fidgeted in her seat, and could no longer speak. Freddie knew she shared his suspicions. “A telegram takes minutes,” he said, finishing her sentence. “Mrs. Bartlette is here all the time,” Ida said. “Let’s not make assumptions based on a piece of paper. One of us must know something.” Everyone turned to face Freddie as if, by mere virtue of being the eldest child still living at home, he was privy to information. He could have responded,

shared in the speculation, reinforced Alice’s statement, but instead he tried to seem noncommittal. “I’m a constable,” he said and shrugged. “I always expect the worst.” “What does that mean?” Adelaide said. “It means you won’t like what he has to say,” Tommy said. “But in this instance, Freddie, you might be wrong. We don’t know it’s bad news. As Ida says, you’re basing your entire suspicions on a frequent visitor and a piece of paper.” “But I feel it, too,” Alice said, tapping her chest with her palm. Just as Tommy was about to counter her, Benjamin and Lucretia entered the room, and the children fell silent. Lucretia looked ill with dark circles under her eyes. She sat in the seat nearest the doorway while Benjamin, hunched over, stood with his hand clenching the back of her chair. Judging from their appearance, something was terribly wrong. Damn. Freddie hated being right – at least in this instance. Benjamin said, “I know you’re wondering what is going on today and why things are a bit ... out of sorts. I’ll enlighten you. Mrs. Bartlette was here last night. She had with her a telegram from the war office.” He cleared his throat. “It said Geoffrey was killed April 24 during the Second Battle of Ypres in Belgium. Those are the only details we have.” Lucretia began crying into her handkerchief. The others sat motionless for a moment while the news penetrated their minds. Wasn’t it not that long ago that Hettie and Geoffrey announced they were leaving for Europe? How could Geoffrey be dead? Slowly, other sobs ed in chorus with Lucretia’s until the entire room was filled with mournful strains. Alice threw herself into Freddie’s arms, and he clung to her, his thoughts not on her, however, but on Hettie. Gardner, who couldn’t be bothered to console his upset wife, said, “Serves him right for going over there to begin with.” Mabel scowled. “How could you say that?” Freddie curled his lip then gently pushed away Alice before jumping to his feet. “He was like a brother to me, and he’s my sister’s husband. Take back what you

said.” Gardner laughed, rising casually. “Why should I? He went there on his own. He volunteered; no one forced him. We told him not to go.” “No, you told Hettie not to go. You were perfectly happy to see Geoffrey go.” “You were, Gardner,” Mabel said. “And now you’re being unnecessarily cruel.” Gardner appeared surprised to hear Mabel contradict him. “Whose side are you on?” “The side that’s right,” she said, also standing. Freddie, Gardner and Mabel looked as if they were about to do battle, eyes scrutinizing each other and postures stiff. Benjamin held up his hand. “Children, it doesn’t matter what your personal feelings are or who is right and who is wrong. Geoffrey was a member of this family, and we are in mourning.” It took a few moments for the word “mourning” to sink in. Today would not be a typical Sunday, despite it starting out that way. Eggs benedict were of no consequence when a member of the family was dead. Freddie didn’t want to back down – he wanted to fight Gardner more than anything at that moment – but he forced himself to sit and put his arm back around Alice. Mabel hung her head, and Gardner temporarily erased the smug expression that generally crossed his face. “Is Hettie coming home?” Freddie said. “Please, tell me she is coming home.” “We don’t know,” Benjamin said. “We don’t know if she’s permitted to leave.” With the exception of Lucretia’s persistent sobbing, the room descended into silence. Slowly, family began to disperse, retreating to various parts of the house. When everyone reconvened in the dining room sometime later for the usual Sunday dinner, the drapes were partially drawn and all flowers had been removed. The family living in the house had changed into their black mourning

attire. Upon seeing this sea of pitch, Mabel burst into tears. Gardner rolled his eyes. “Oh, Mabel, sweetie,” Ida said, hugging her sister and rubbing her back. “We all feel as you do.” “Our dear sister is hurting. Mourning alone ... for a week,” Mabel said before sobbing so hard she could not continue. “I have thought of that also. But Hettie has friends.” “It’s not the same. We, we, we, can’t do anything to comfort her. And, and, poor Geoffrey, to, to, to, to die violently so far from home.” Mrs. Norris placed the pot roast on the table. As she did, her black armband was clearly visible. Upon sight of it, Adelaide sniffed into her handkerchief, and Alice hung her head. No one touched the roast or the side dishes with the exception of Gardner who took a piece of meat, a large one at that, and plopped it down on his plate. Freddie exhaled, a furrow in his brow beginning to develop. “Mabel, why did you marry this man?” “She married me because she loves me,” Gardner said. “I didn’t ask you. I asked Mabel. My sister is capable of answering for herself. You don’t care about anyone but yourself. You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met.” “Oh, look who is holier than thou. It’s always my sister this, my sister that. Women don’t have minds that venture very far from babies and dresses. Stop trying to give them credit for anything. As for Geoffrey that manipulative, little —” Benjamin pounded his fist on the table, causing cutlery to spring off of the tablecloth and liquid in glasses to swirl like a maelstrom. “Boys, enough.” He pointed at Gardner. “You, you will not say such vile things about the women in this family. In addition, I know you were not friends with Geoffrey but he was killed serving Canada, and you will show him respect.”

Benjamin repositioned his accusing finger at Freddie. “And you. I know you will always come to Hettie’s defense, but you must channel your feelings elsewhere.” Freddie exhaled, grateful Benjamin didn’t force him to apologize. “Father,” Walter said, his voice slow and steady. “Did you change your mind about the war or merely about Geoffrey’s participation in it?” “Neither. There has been a death in the family, and we now must let bygones be bygones. I’m going to talk to the deacon tomorrow to see what can be done in this situation. We cannot have a funeral.” “Why not?” Alice said. “Geoffrey’s been buried overseas, child. In a military plot.” This reality made Alice cry. Tommy took her hand, and silence once more overcame the family. All that could be heard was weeping and the smack of Gardner’s lips as he, and he alone, enjoyed Mrs. Norris’ carefully prepared dinner.

SWEETEST SISTER, Mother and Father told us of the sad news regarding Geoffrey. I feel so sorry that this has happened to you. I cannot....

SITTING AT THE ROLLER top desk in the boys’ room, Freddie’s hand shook slightly. Confusingly, the words for this letter weren’t coming. He had never had difficulty writing Hettie before. They wrote daily while she attended Toronto General Hospital’s School of Nursing, and when Hettie left for Europe, their daily correspondence began anew.

...SEEM TO EXPRESS MY thoughts correctly. I defended you and yours today against Gardner. The son of a. He saw fit to run his mouth at a time when he should have been respectful. I wish Mabel hadn’t married him. He is not one of us. He belongs to a race of selfish ogres...

FREDDIE FOCUSED ON the sheet, one scant paragraph completed, and sighed. Tommy, who was studying on his bed, set down his textbook. “I’m fearful Maeve won’t be able to finish school now that she’s in mourning.” “She’ll finish. Mother and Father will see to it.” “I don’t understand why Father wouldn’t let me go see her. He says the Bartlettes are in mourning and need time to themselves. Well, we’re also in mourning. If something like this had happened while Father was courting Mother, wouldn’t he have wanted to see her?” Freddie turned to face his brother, drops of ink failing off his pen’s nib and onto the desk. “Have some comion for your flesh and blood. Your sister lost her husband before they even celebrated their first anniversary.” “And my girlfriend lost her brother.” “Don’t you feel badly that the person representing our family in this war is a woman?” Tommy leaned forward and furrowed his brow. “Why does anyone have to represent our family?” Freddie felt uneasy under his brother’s critical glare. “No one must, you’re right, but it’s too late for that.” Tommy relaxed, leaning against the headboard. “I should at least try to see Maeve.” “Oh, goddammit, why don’t you sneak out of the house and go see her. I’m tired of hearing about it.” Freddie turned back to his letter, hoping it would discourage Tommy from arguing.

... EVERYTHING IS CHAOS here. Everyone has his or her own agendas and opinions. We all held Geoffrey in high regard – save Gardner – but this regard is manifesting itself in different ways. For some, it is thoughts of Geoffrey himself and the life lost. For others, it is thoughts of you and how you are far from us during this difficult time. Others are being selfish. Tommy thinks of nothing but Maeve. He is head over heels for the girl. It clouds his judgement. This letter is short because I know anything I say will be wholly inadequate to soothe the pain you feel. You will always be my priority. I will do whatever is necessary to ensure your happiness. You must know that.

Your loving brother, Freddie

The door closed softly, and Tommy was gone. Freddie set down his pen and rested his head in his hands. Like Benjamin, he did not believe Canada had any business in a European man’s war, but until today, the war itself had been little more than a bothersome distraction. Hettie going overseas, however, was a different matter. Her absence hung over the family like a fog. She was always conspicuously missing, and their parents spoke of her often. He spoke of her often. They had been constant companions as children and young adults, and her absence left a hole in his heart. In the span of a few hours, the war had transformed from a distraction into a monster intent on consuming them all. Hettie was alone in Europe now, men they knew were dying, and newspapers printed casualty notices by the dozens. Something needed to be done, but what? What could he possibly do that wasn’t being done already?

A MONTH ED, AND Freddie felt as if he was no closer to an answer to the question of what could be done than the day the Stewards learned of Geoffrey’s death. Maybe it was a lost cause, one no longer worth pondering. Playing fetch with Flossie in the garden was one of the few amusements Freddie had during the six-month period of mourning for Geoffrey. The old girl played as long as she could, but eventually let out a growl to indicate she was finished. “When did you get so grumpy?” he said to her, sleeves pushed up to his elbows and dog slobber splattered on his hands. “I liked you better when you were young and spry and nipping at my heels.” He threw the ball one final time but was forced to fetch it himself. “Fine, Flossie, but no scraps off my plate tonight.” Freddie entered the house through the kitchen door, hoping to find Mrs. Norris baking something delicious, but instead found Tommy on the telephone yammering with Maeve. He sighed, reminded of his ex-girlfriend, Posie, and her mindless conversations, and walked through the room without acknowledging his brother. When he reached the hall, he heard Benjamin. “Frederick!” Now what? I have to be at work soon, he thought as he made his way to the sitting room where he found Benjamin standing behind Lucretia. She was sitting, a letter on the table beside her, face flushed. “Do you need something, Father?” “No. We received a letter from Hettie. She is not coming home. She will be staying for the duration to continue her nursing duties. We wanted you to know.” “Oh. Thank you.” Freddie glanced at his feet, disappointment overwhelming him and making him unable to say anything else. From the corner of his eye, Freddie spotted the family’s chess set. As young adults, he and Hettie often played chess. When she was in nursing school and now again with her in Europe, they continued their game via letter, one move per

correspondence. Hettie had moved her pawn by deciding to stay in Europe. It was up to him to make the next move, but what would that move be? Whatever it was, he knew he needed to make it quickly.

FREDDIE BIT HIS LIP, looked into the bathroom mirror and took a deep breath. “You can do this,” he said, making eye with himself. “You must do this. If you do not, Father will get the best of you. This war will get the best of you. You must do what is right. Don’t let him intimidate you. Ready? Ready? Yes, ready. Ready!” He exited the bathroom and practically ran down the stairs to the parlor. Benjamin flinched and turned toward Freddie as he barged into the room, the door slamming against the wall. There was minimal time to make his argument. Freddie did not wait for pleasantries and began speaking loudly and quickly while gesturing. “Father, I simply cannot stand by and let Hettie be alone in Europe. I once promised her I would be there for her whenever she needed me. That’s why I have decided to the medical corps. This war is not ending anytime soon, and this seems like the best way I can contribute to it without violating my principles. I—” Freddie tilted his head. Benjamin, who was heaster at the local Armstrong Academy, was expecting a student’s parents in fifteen minutes. He was supposed to be alone, yet there was Mabel. What was she doing here, and why was she sitting next to Mother? “I—” Freddie forget every word of his carefully rehearsed speech. The pause gave Benjamin time to react. “Are you out of your mind? You’re going to the medical corps because of your sister. What do you think? They’re just going to let you stay at the clearing station with her?” “No,” Freddie said, again finding his voice and defiantly looking daggers at his father. “I don’t expect that, but I’d be a lot closer to her than here in Barrie. I have to do my bit.” “No, you don’t have to do your bit.” Benjamin’s face was red. He stood, shaking his cane as if he might strike his son with it. “I will not stand for two of my children involved in a conflict which began because of people and events thousands of miles away.”

“It doesn’t matter the distance. Canada already is involved. You should be proud your children are in the medical corps saving lives not taking them.” “It’s dangerous either way. I forbid you to go. I’ll invalid you myself if I have to.” Benjamin brandished his cane. “You’re not going to injure anyone. It isn’t in your nature. What’s done is done.” “What do you mean ‘what’s done is done?’” Mabel gasped and glanced at Lucretia, who sat as if in a trance. “This morning,” Freddie said. “I did it this morning. I spoke to the police chief, and he let me take the day off to go to Toronto.” “Toronto?” Benjamin’s voice was weak, and he collapsed onto the sofa. “I’ve enlisted. It’s done, Father. No going back.” The doorbell rang and before anything more could be said, Freddie made a hasty retreat, returning back the way he had come and locking himself in the boys’ bedroom. “What’s done is done, Frederick,” he said to himself. “No one but you knows the real reason. No one but you.”

DEAR HETTIE, Oh, oh, oh, where do I begin? I literally just returned from Mother and Father’s house. I haven’t even fed the baby or removed my hat. This news is too urgent to wait. Had I pen and paper during my walk home, I would have written you then. Can you tell I’m eager to share with you what I learned, although it’s news you will not like? Brace yourself, please. Freddie has decided to enlist. In fact, he’s already done it. He’s requested to be a medic, to protect you, he says. It was but mere coincidence I was there to witness this announcement. He didn’t expect me to be there. In fact, at first, he didn’t even know I was there. He burst into the parlour, walked past me, and began his spiel. He was speaking loudly, gesturing as he went. I think, perhaps, he had his speech memorized and wanted to get it over with quickly before Father could say anything. By the time Freddie saw me, which caused him to pause, Father was so upset he began to yell. They had the largest quarrel I’ve ever seen. It was not an exercise in debate. No, they were going at it like a pair of drunken men who had no control of their senses. Father said he would not stand for two of his children being involved in this conflict that began because of people and places thousands of miles away. Freddie said it didn’t matter how far away these things occurred; our nation was already involved and Father should be proud his children are in the medical corps, saving lives not taking them. Father said it didn’t matter; it was still dangerous. Freddie told him what was done was done, then angrily left the room. In the meanwhile, while they were having their row, I sat there nervously awaiting the moment I could tell you. Mother was in the room as well, and I fully expected her to blow like a kettle, but she sat there and said nothing, her face ashen gray. I’m not certain why she said nothing. It was a role reversal worthy of fiction. Before I left, I wanted to speak to Freddie, but he had retreated upstairs to the boys’ room and, seeing as I don’t live there anymore, I felt uncomfortable going into the private section of the home. Perhaps I can speak to him later or tomorrow. I may go so far as to go to the police station and see if I can catch

him at work. Surely, he’s already given his notice, so I’ll need to be quick about it. I’ll send you another letter then. Yours, Mabel Hill

DARLING FREDDIE, I received an urgent and shocking letter from Mabel today. She related to me the details of a row she had witnessed between you and Father. She said you have decided to enlist as a medic to protect me. I’m unsure how you being here would protect me. I’m very confused as to why you would think so. Can you explain your rationale to me? I miss you, dear brother, but please, for the love of God, do not come here. Father was right to stop you. As a medic you will be closer to the front line than I am. You will be in danger of enemy fire. You will see things you would never wish your worst enemy to see. You cannot unsee these things once you have seen them. They stay with you forever. Men are horrible to each other, but you don’t realize the extent until you come to a place like this and see bodies in pieces. This is no time for foolhardy heroics. Do not get yourself involved in this. You don’t belong here. None of us belong here. I did not fully recognize this before I came, but now that I am here I must fulfill my obligations. But you have no obligations. Why make yourself obligated? Please. Freddie, I implore you. If we were in the same room, together, you would see in my eyes my sincerity, my fear. My heart is already broken. Please don’t make it break any further apart. Your sister, Hettie

DEAREST SISTER, I am hoping this letter finds you well. I would ask you if you’ve heard the latest familial news, but I know Mabel has already written you about Freddie. In a manner of speaking, you found out about it before I did. I did not find out about it for a full two days. Two days! Can you believe it? Freddie said nothing personally to me nor did anyone else. I saw no of the family and no one rang. I would have thought this was news worth sharing, but in any case ... Mother showed up at our door one morning. James had recently left for work, and the girls were in the breakfast room. Mother came in the foyer and immediately began complaining about Father. She was claiming Father gave us girls too much freedom during our childhood and that this was the consequence. I had no idea what she was referring and that was when she told me about Freddie. Mother blames you for everything. If it weren’t for you, Freddie would be staying home. She spoke as if you were to blame for the war itself. She also was saying something about Uncle Steven running for Parliament and how he never had any desire to leave Barrie before; she was speaking so quickly. The federal election is at least a year away, so I didn’t even bother to ask for clarification. I’ll find out at some point and when I do, I’ll let you know. It was the least of my concerns at that particular point in time. I was first in shock over Freddie’s news then I was trying to comprehend what Mother was saying, all the while worried the girls would hear her and begin asking questions about things I didn’t want to address. Be forewarned of Mother’s foul mood should she accost you long distance. I shall write you again soon. It seems something is always happening here for good or bad. Yours, Ida

DEAR IDA, Your letter has caused me much distress. How am I to be blamed for this insanity? I didn’t start this war nor did I make it the worst one anyone has ever seen. I don’t understand why Mother sees fit to blame me for everything. It was never this way before I came here. For some reason she cannot differentiate distain for my decision from distain for me. For the first time in my life, I am free to make my own decisions. Before my marriage, I was forced to have our parents’ approval before I could do what I wanted. They had to approve my courtship with Geoffrey. They had to approve my going to nursing school. After marriage, I couldn’t do as I pleased without thinking of how it would affect my husband’s image. Now, I am able to do as I wish without thought of anyone but myself. Please do not misconstrue my words. I am heartbroken Geoffrey is not here. He was my everything. But I value my freedom as well. I must answer to no one but my superiors. I cannot stop Freddie, although I can state my case as persuasively as possible, because Freddie is an adult and a man. He is going to do what he is going to do. Nonetheless, I don’t want him coming here. He has no idea what he is getting himself into and that frightens me. I hope my letter to him reached him in time. Have you heard anything more about Uncle Steven? Why would he run for Parliament? Whatever Mother’s worries, I’m pretty certain he wouldn’t be qualified anyway from only two as town councilor. Sometimes Mother treats her youngest sibling as if he were her eldest child. I feel sorry for him. But he is 39 years old. He’ll be fine with or without her “help.” I must end this letter although I really wish to continue this conversation with you. I am still quite upset, but I am due to report for work at any moment. Yours, Hettie

Lucretia’s Brother: The Parliamentarian?

“I don’t have an opinion .” Lucretia narrowed her eyes as she scrutinized her younger brother by 14 years, Steven Goodwin, from across his dining room table and shook her head. “That can’t be true. Other than Benjamin, you’re the most opinionated person I know.” He set his teacup in its saucer and placed both on the table. “I don’t really Rebecca,” he said, “And I’m barely older than her daughters.” “That doesn’t mean you have no opinion.” Lucretia could not believe he cared so little for the children of their long dead sister who finally, after decades, were in Canada. “Fine. They have lived in Barbados. Of course, they are a bit on the odd side. But can you blame them? Life here is so much different than what they had on the island.” Steven’s wife, Bertha, handed her a tray of biscuits. “I wonder what type of upbringing they had.” Lucretia shrugged. “Seeing as it was with Rebecca’s husband, it was pious and narrow minded, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.” Steven smiled slightly, his eyes shining, but Lucretia continued speaking, and his smile faded. “Why are you contemplating a run for Parliament?” she said, her brow furrowing. “Because I feel I could make a difference.” “But you have no experience. Shouldn’t you try something more suitable to your station?” “What do you mean?” Steven said, the twinkle also gone. “No one outside Simcoe County knows you.”

“They’ll get to know me.” “Not likely. It’s a horrible idea.” Steven shrugged. “It’s too early to be thinking about the federal election now anyway.” “Nevertheless,” Lucretia said, “I’m trying to protect you and your reputation.” “Duly noted.” Steven nodded. “Have you heard from Hettie and Freddie?” “Not recently,” Lucretia said careful not to let her voice waver. “It takes time for mail to cross the Atlantic.” It was, at best, she knew, a white lie. There were other circumstances dictating when the children wrote and why. Hettie had not written since insisting she was staying overseas, still furious that Lucretia had demanded her return home, and Freddie had not written at all since sailing for Europe. Hettie, at least, was still in communication with her sisters, but no one had heard from Freddie, and if Hettie knew where he was or how he was doing, she wasn’t sharing. “It must be difficult for them,” Bertha said, her eyes soft and sympathetic. Lucretia knew Bertha was trying to be nice, but she was still aggravated. “It was their decision.” “Still,” Steven said, “this war is not measuring up to expectation. Surely there must be a peaceful solution.” “Make that part of your campaign speech.” Steven’s eyes narrowed. “Are we back to that subject again?” “It’s not going to go away so long as you are intent on leaving Barrie.” He exhaled. “That’s not a motivating factor.” “What then?” “We’ve been through this, Lucretia. Do you think Hettie and Freddie did what they did to get out of Barrie? No, they had larger, more fundamental reasons

such as—” Before Steven could continue, two of his six children ran like a whirlwind into the parlor. “Alan cut Tillie’s hair with Mother’s sewing shears,” Matilda said, as Tillie was too overcome to speak for herself. “He doesn’t mind me.” Tillie’s hair hung in uneven tresses where her pigtail once had been, and she cradled her severed braid as if it were the most precious thing in existence. He doesn’t mind anyone, Lucretia thought. If she didn’t know better, she’d think Alan was raised by degenerates. Something clearly was wrong with the child. Traditional discipline and punishments did not work, and his parents had even been forced to pull him out of school and hire a tutor. As dreadful as the experience was for Tillie, Lucretia was grateful for the distraction and the fact she wouldn’t be forced to continue conversing about Hettie and Freddie. She didn’t want anyone to know they were angry. That was a private shame.

UPON RETURNING HOME, Lucretia examined her reflection in the reception room mirror and sighed. Where did youth go? Each wrinkle told a story, as did the overwhelming amount of gray in her auburn hair. Most of these signs of aging were new, the consequence of wartime worry and her children’s choices. She set her hat on the parlor stand and was so caught up in her own appearance that she nearly knocked over a vase when Benjamin’s voice echoed from one of the downstairs rooms. “This matter should not be as important to you as it is,” he said. “But, Father, if we wait they might not carry it anymore,” Alice’s voice responded. Lucretia shook her head. Alice had been pestering them for days about a dress she saw in one of Ida’s catalogues. “What catalogue is it in?” he said. “Eaton’s.” “It’s probably expensive. There will be other dresses.” “But Father—” Lucretia followed the voices to the sitting room. Benjamin sat nonchalantly on the sofa while Alice leaned over him, bending at the waist slightly as if speaking to a child. She stopped when she became aware of Lucretia’s presence and looked at her fixedly. “Steven’s well?” Benjamin said. “He’s still considering a run for Parliament for whatever reason.” “That’s nice,” Alice said and returned her attention back to her father. “Now, about the dress.” “I wasn’t finished talking about your uncle,” Lucretia said. “I don’t understand

why he would want to leave Barrie, but it might be a moot point. Who would ever elect him for federal office? No one outside the county knows who he is.” “Well, that’s a defeatist attitude,” Benjamin said. “I told him exactly what I thought, too.” “I’m sure you did. Let him do what he wants. He’s a grown man.” “My baby brother will never be a grown man in my eyes.” “Well, then that’s a problem.” Alice waited, lips pursed, for an opportunity to speak. “The dress, Father.” Fatigued of the dress conversation, which began anew, Lucretia went in search of today’s mail. The rest of the household had already retrieved their letters and only Lucretia’s remained. The amount of correspondence had doubled since the family went into mourning, and she went through the letters thrice. Condolences, condolences, condolences and more condolences! Nothing from either Hettie or Freddie. She went through the letters a fourth time, this time slowly and reading each postmark. When she still did not find what she was looking for, hot tears silently rolled down her cheeks. Why, why would they not write? Tommy was in the kitchen telling Mrs. Norris he was going out and to let the family know he’d return shortly. Lucretia inhaled deeply when she heard him and hurriedly dried her eyes. After the front door closed, she went to talk to Benjamin. He was no longer in the sitting room but was now in his study reading Paradise Lost. She stood in the threshold for a moment before speaking. “Hettie is angry with me, and Freddie refuses to write. They—” Lucretia rubbed her temple and wanted to say she was heartbroken, that she missed her children and wanted to hold them in her arms, but she couldn’t bring herself to it this aloud. Instead she said, “They were a challenge from the start.” Benjamin looked up from his book. “They wanted us to pat them on the head

and agree with everything they did.” “Yes, exactly. As children, the jokes they played on each other and the tales they told and how they laughed behind our backs when we couldn’t tell what was real and what was make believe.” “Yes, very true, but I didn’t mean that mischief. They both received good marks in school and were clean, God fearing children.” Lucretia nodded. “But you shouldn’t have indulged Hettie with nursing school when she was engaged and wouldn’t be able to use her education.” He folded his arms. “She’s using it now.” Lucretia wrinkled her nose. She wouldn’t be using it now if it weren’t for you indulging her. “And Freddie, courting a girl for four years and then getting tired of her. This after I’m sure he brought shame on her house.” He held up a finger, his face darkening. “Frederick has never brought shame to any household.” By “shame” she meant the deflowering of Posie Walker although she would never say that aloud either. She didn’t want to believe her son was a scoundrel, but when a man so much as kisses a woman, he was obligated to marry her. Benjamin knew this just as well as anyone else, but obviously he made exceptions for his own flesh and blood. “About the mail,” she said. “The way I see it, they need to make amends with us, not the other way around. But,” he paused before continuing, “you also try too hard to get them to make amends. They never will if you pressure them. They can be more stubborn than you.” Benjamin returned to his book. So that was it then? Lucretia would just have to wait? She turned to leave, her lips pursed in the same fashion as Alice. I just want them to come home.

–ENTRY IN LUCRETIA’S diary– August 21, 1915 Per usual, Benjamin refuses to hear a negative word about Hettie and Freddie. It’s not as if I want to speak negatively about them either. Lord knows, Mother didn’t teach me to be a gossip, but there are consequences to actions, and years of leniency with those two have come back to haunt us. Why Benjamin was so lenient, I will never know. Ida, Walter and Mabel never had such a coddling, but in fairness never gave us a moment of trouble. Adelaide. Also never a moment. Tommy is only problematic when it comes to his love for Maeve, but that will subside once he marries her, although they are much too young. Alice. Benjamin gives not an inch to, but Hettie and Freddie have gone overseas – violating everything Benjamin holds dear politically and philosophically – and he doesn’t so much as anger. They are fine. They are well within their right. And Freddie can have his way with every woman in town, doesn’t matter. I feel like laughing or crying or screaming, or doing all three at once. I simply want my children home. Does no one understand this? Does no one care or think their absence is consequential? Am I the only one to whom they matter? I only hope tomorrow will bring a letter. I’d even be satisfied with a note from my dear children.

Too Young to Marry

Tommy rummaged through the accessories and the grooming implements in the dressing table’s top drawer – shaving powder, scissors, tweezers and the like. Most of the items were Freddie’s, and he pushed them aside with a gesture that said, “This is my room now.” Finally, he found the cufflinks he wanted and slammed shut the drawer. He attached the cufflinks to that day’s jacket before adjusting his gray tie. Gray was only a smidgen of color, but the six-month mourning period for a sibling was nearly over and any color was welcome at this point. His outfit finally complete, he smiled at a photo of Maeve before going in search of his father. Benjamin was in his study, and Tommy entered slowly, prepared as best he could for this conversation. “Father, may I have a moment of your time?” Benjamin glanced up from his ledger and indicated that Tommy should sit. “Maeve’s pleurisy is acting up,” Tommy said. “It’s terrible. James only recently obtained her the position at the bank. I don’t like the fact she needs to work when her health is delicate. When she’s feeling better, I’d like to propose marriage.” “So you wish to rescue her from the working world?” “No. Not quite. I love her very much.” “I was hoping you’d be further along in your career before marriage.” Tommy sat forward. “I want to remain in architecture. I’m certain of that.” “Yes, but how far are you going to go without a degree? You’ll never be able to open your own firm. Are you making enough money? I was 33 when I married. Walter was 24. Freddie is not yet married but, God willing, will live long enough to do so. You are only 19 and barely 19 at that.” What exactly was Benjamin saying? How could Tommy be too young to get married when men his age were dying in the trenches? “Father, will I be forced to wait until I am older to marry the love of my life?

Past generations of this family married before they reached 20.” “Past generations were poor and uneducated, so don’t envy them.” Benjamin realized the harshness of tone, and his face softened. “I’m merely asking you to consider everything first.” Tommy was silent, unable to think of another argument for marriage other than love. But did there really need to be another argument? Shouldn’t love be enough to sustain them and make the marriage work? When Tommy did not answer, Benjamin said, “Have you been to see Ida and your nieces since the quarantine was lifted?” The girls had been quarantined for measles, and although Maeve visited multiple times to bring soup and keep Ida from falling into despair, Tommy hadn’t so much as stopped by to wave hello through the window. Tommy shook his head “no,” and felt melancholy, well aware he was about to be reprimanded. “Please do so before you forget you’re a member of this family.” Tommy swallowed. He had been spending most of his free time with the Bartlettes because of Maeve, but this was not meant to be an insult to his blood relatives. He meant no disrespect. Certainly, they knew that, didn’t they? “So, Father, does that mean I don’t have your blessing?” Benjamin made eye with his youngest son, but his expression betrayed nothing. “I didn’t say that, but I had hoped you would wait.” Tommy nodded, all optimism gone. “I will call on Ida tomorrow, and I will call on Mabel and Walter as well to see how they are doing.” “That’s good to hear,” Benjamin said, returning to his ledger. “Where’s Mother?” Benjamin waved his hand toward the threshold but did not answer. Today was the 15th of October, meaning Hettie had been away from Canada exactly one year. Tommy had forgotten this fact until he found his mother

crocheting and instantly knew she was trying to burn nervous energy, as the only time she crocheted was when she needed to occupy her mind. Perhaps now was not the time to talk to her. “Benjamin?” Lucretia said over her shoulder. “No, Mother, it’s me.” Lucretia set down her work and turned her head. “Tommy, what is it?” “It can wait, Mother.” “No, no, no. This project means nothing. How can I help you?” He narrowed his eyes. Why was Lucretia being so nice? It was unlike her to speak softly and have an unbiased interest in her children’s lives. Tommy sat across from her. “I’m going to propose to Maeve, and I was wondering if there is a family ring I can give her.” Lucretia gasped. “Maeve has such small fingers.” Tommy shook his head. There was the Lucretia he knew. “Is that a no?” “You’re a bit young, don’t you think?” Oh, not this again. “Maeve is six months older than I. She’ll always be older, and I’ll always be too young.” “But you’re only 19.” “I want to spend the rest of my life with Maeve, and that won’t change with age.” Lucretia saw determination in her son’s eyes. It was the same determination she witnessed in her older children when they were in love with an idea, only Tommy was in love with a person who was equally ionate about him. Did this put it in a different category of resoluteness? “Who else knows about this?”

“Just Father, Mrs. Bartlette and Mabel.” “Mabel?” “Yes, I needed a young woman’s opinion on something.” Lucretia tilted her head thoughtfully. “Grandmother has the majority of the family jewelry, but I may have something.” She left the room and disappeared for several minutes. They were running out of time. If Lucretia was gone too long, it would be breakfast and afterward he must leave straightaway for work. He began tapping his foot. Finally, Lucretia returned with a white stone set in a small gold band. “This is moonstone. This ring belonged to your great-grandmother Claire Winthrop Appleton. It is small. It should fit Maeve’s hand. It doesn’t fit mine.” She handed Tommy the ring before snatching it back. “Your great-grandmother was born in 1810. This was hers in her youth. It survived the trip from New Brunswick to Upper Canada. It stays in the family no matter what happens. No matter what.” Tommy nodded. “I understand, Mother.” Tommy took the ring and examined it. This would be Maeve’s engagement ring, and someday they would the heirloom to one of their daughters. He put it in his pocket for safekeeping and went to breakfast, his mind filled with thoughts of Maeve.

DEAR FREDDIE, Hello, Big Brother. How are you? I hope this letter finds you safe and well. I’m writing you today because I want to share with you some news. I plan on proposing to Maeve. Before you left, I know you were annoyed with how often I spoke of her. Now there will be no need for daydreaming and yearning. I will be able to spend my days with her. Mother gave me a ring that belonged to Great-Grandmother to use. Longevity runs in those branches of the family tree. Grandmother is 76, and her mother lived to be nearly 82. She died the week Hettie was born, and I never realized until now that that is why Hettie’s middle name is Claire. I am hoping this ring will bring Maeve longevity as well. Also, I thought you should know that I acknowledge that you’ve always been better at everything than I. School bored you, yet you excelled. You were better at hockey, always team captain. ( that time Cousin Jim taunted you and you knocked out his front teeth? It’s the only time I you getting into a fight. Mother was furious.) Moreover, you’re better at interacting with girls. It was always easy for you to attract and woo them. You know more about their nature and how to please them. I have only wanted Maeve, and I am inexperienced. I need your advice. I know a gentleman doesn’t kiss and tell, but how do I make Maeve satisfied?

Your brother, Tommy

‘Tis the Season for Difficulties

Lucretia had been visiting the drab Bartlette house in H Block once a week without fail for decades, and in that time, it never once bothered her. Today, however, she realized that the house matched Amelia’s disposition. It was long and narrow, simple, showing signs of disrepair and containing furnishings stuck in the 1880s. The house was in stark contrast to the Steward’s neat, modern and clean Gothic Revival on St. Vincent Street with its protruding nooks and crannies, gingerbread trim and a tower. If Lucretia thought hard enough and long enough, she could a time when Amelia’s personality was lighter. That was a long time ago now, when the furniture was still in style. “Christmas has always been my favorite holiday,” Amelia said as she poured tea, tears streaming down her cheeks, “but not this year. Not that last year was wonderful, mind you. Thirteen was the final year we were all together.” “That was the last Christmas before the world went mad,” Lucretia said and took stock of the bleak December landscape outside the dining room window and the equally bleak house next door. The snowy exterior reminded her of the Christmas of ’13, and she was overcome with shame. That year, Hettie and Freddie were having a snowball fight in the front yard, and she chastised them. She had been more concerned about what the neighbors would say, seeing two adults playing, than her children’s happiness. If only she knew at the time that their innocence was slipping through the sands of time as the start of the war was rushing closer and closer. “I’m having trouble sleeping,” Amelia said, bringing Lucretia’s attention back into the present. Lucretia shook her head as if doing so could cleanse her memory and focused on her hostess just in time to see Amelia move aside her mourning veil to wipe her cheeks. “Haven’t we all in the past year and a half?” Lucretia said and took a sip of tea. The flavor was not what Lucretia expected, and she wanted to spit it out but forced herself to swallow. How long had Amelia soaked the tealeaves? No,

Lucretia determined, they weren’t tealeaves. They were bay leaves. “I suppose,” Amelia said, not noticing, “but I’m awake for hours thinking about Geoffrey.” “Think of something happier like Maeve and Tommy getting married next year.” “What if he changes his mind? Or she says ‘no’.” “That’s not very likely.” “And what about Gilbert?” Lucretia set down her cup. “What about Gilbert?” “He’s going to be self-conscious walking Maeve down the aisle.” “Maybe Teddy will do it.” “And I can’t really afford a wedding.” “Thomas would gladly elope.” “What would the presbyters or the minister of the word say? Your grandchildren attend Sunday school. They’ll be shamed.” Lucretia opened her mouth to answer when Amelia announced she had forgotten the biscuits and briefly left the room. When the tray was set before Lucretia, the cookies appeared normal, but were they? Had Amelia added salt instead of sugar or, worst, arsenic instead of sugar? “What was I saying?” Amelia said. Lucretia didn’t immediately respond. She nibbled cautiously and slowly. If Amelia had accidently used rat poison instead of sugar, she only would eat enough to result in illness, not death. Finally, she said, “We were discussing Christmas. You’ll be ing us this year, of course. Mother has insisted I invite Rebecca’s girls. You’ll get some amusement out of them.”

Amelia shook her head. “Not this year. I’ll go church, but that’s all. Gilbert, Teddy and Maeve are free to do whatever they please so long as they don’t go caroling.” “No one is going caroling this year. I believe that tradition is over for the duration, but we need to keep things as normal as possible for the grandchildren.” “At least you have grandchildren. Teddy seems incapable of producing any.” Lucretia stopped nibbling on the potential death biscuit and washed it down with the bay leaf tea. Her stomach began to ache. Oh, good Lord, she’ll kill me yet. “Tommy asked me for a family ring to use when he proposes to Maeve,” Lucretia said. “It’s an antique. You’ll need to look at it.” “How wonderful that you have family antiques. My family has nothing to down.” Lucretia inhaled sharply. Her family had been just as poor as Amelia’s for generations, but industrialization had made successes out of some families while exaggerating, for others, their status as paupers. It was surprising Lucretia’s grandmother had such a nice ring – or any ring at all – but it was not something she was pampered with; it was a thank-you gift from an employer. “Grandmother would be proud to know Maeve is wearing her ring. She could barely read while Maeve can do calculus, recite Shakespeare and knows the name of every nation on Earth.” Lucretia knew her friend thought such knowledge was useless, but her grandmother had not. She wanted the family to prosper and better its station in life. Amelia nodded. “My grandmother would simply be proud I didn’t die in childbirth.” Lucretia sighed. Amelia was becoming impossible. Amelia continued, “Hettie says she must wear her uniform all the time. It’s a shame she cannot mourn properly.”

“It was her decision,” Lucretia said, then added, “to stay. She must follow the medical corps’ rules.” “They should allow her to do what’s right.” “She does what’s needed.” “Hum.” Lucretia felt her temperature rise. Was she actually defending Hettie, the very person whom she claimed not to understand? No, this could not be, yet that was exactly what was happening. She could feel a quarrel with Amelia coming and decided to change the subject. “Do you think 14 years is too great of an age difference when a woman is 17?” Lucretia said. “Does Alice have a suitor?” “Yes. She met a man, a solicitor, who is a chum of one of her friends’ brothers. They were both guests at the house for dinner. His name is Cedric Viens.” Amelia’s face turned even paler than usual. “Mr. Viens was Geoffrey’s boss.” Oh, my, Lucretia thought, I can’t say anything right today. “Is he a good man?” “I think so. Of course, I thought Gordon was a good man, too.” Lucretia’s head jerked to the side. Was Amelia about to tell her the truth about what went on behind closed doors? But instead of a detailed confession, Amelia burst into tears and revealed nothing. Lucretia handed her a handkerchief. “It was horrible,” Amelia finally said, “the day I learned Geoffrey died.” “Why do you let yourself dwell on it? Better days are coming.” “That’s easy for you to say. Your Frederick is alive and well. And how can you say better days are coming? I don’t see this war ending anytime soon. Do you, because I most certainly don’t.” Easy for me to say because my Frederick is alive and well? Does she wish him

dead? “You are like a sister to me. Moreover, you are in pain, so I will forgive your comments, but I will be taking my leave. I’ll ring later to make certain you’re all right.” Lucretia stood and left the room, leaving behind a stunned Amelia.

WHEN LUCRETIA RETURNED home, she felt as if she had been awake for two days. It was still the middle of the day, meaning the house was eerily quiet. This is what it will be like when all the children leave home and Benjamin is gone. She didn’t want to be like Amelia and let thoughts of death permeate her mind, but Benjamin was 10 years her senior, did not possess her good genes and was not in the best of health. I wonder how many Christmases together we have left, she thought then shook her head. She entered the kitchen still wearing her hat and coat. Mrs. Norris exited the butler’s pantry, and her eyes widened when she saw her employer. “Ma’am, are you all right?” “Yes, I just wanted to ask you before I forget. Will you please help me bring the Christmas decorations down from the attic?” Mrs. Norris nodded, and a few minutes later, the women carried down the tree stand, a box of linens and a box of ornaments. Lucretia immediately opened the ornament box and began gingerly rummaging through it, allowing the memory of each ornament’s purchase to flood her mind. The first object in the box was a star tree topper. Her brother Oscar had carved it for her the year she and Benjamin married. There were three glass boys and five glass girls, each purchased the year of a child’s birth. There also were 28 glass ornaments, representing years of marriage, although no glass ornament was added last year and none would be added this year either. The precious ornaments had been imported from England and , but in wartime they were a needless extravagance. The latest ornaments were carved wood. Last year’s was a St. Nicholas while this year’s was an angel. An angel. Geoffrey was now their angel. Neither Lucretia nor Benjamin found the motivation to purchase the ornament. It was Alice and Adelaide who did, and this was the first time Lucretia was seeing it. She ran her fingers along the detailed carving. Did the girls actually put some careful thought into their selection? This seemed unlikely from two sisters who bicker constantly, but the girls were maturing.

When Geoffrey awoke that terrible day in April, he had no way of knowing it would be his final sunrise. And Hettie, poor Hettie, would have the love of her life – the man who even as a dewy-eyed child she knew she would marry – snatched from her before marriage really started. Lucretia exhaled through her mouth and, carefully setting the ornament down, went to the writing desk.

DEAR SADIE, I know you haven’t seen David and his family in quite some time, but if ever there was a year you shouldn’t have spent the holidays in Port Arthur, this is it. There are already indications that this is going to be a difficult Christmas. Sometimes I don’t know what I am supposed to do. My dearest friend, Mrs. Bartlette, is beside herself with grief; no matter what I say or do it is never the appropriate thing. I somehow always make it worse. I am constantly coming away from our meetings exhausted and defeated. There is a veil of gloom over our household as well. Hettie and Freddie are away, and Geoffrey is dead. Nothing will change that. None of us feel like celebrating, but we will do it for Ida and Mabel’s children. We do so in the hopes there will be peace on Earth. You’re lucky your two boys are ineligible for military service. I know you were probably never before thankful for David’s poor eyesight – nor he either – and Jim has never been thankful for his and Freddie’s hockey fight, but that fight might very well have saved his life. My sons are all eligible, and Freddie has already heard the call. I fear for Walter and Tommy. I fear for Mrs. Bartlette’s sons as well. Three of hers are eligible, although two have already enlisted, including our dear Geoffrey. This too shall , but I am tired and aching for the world we once knew. Let’s stop at the teashop when you return to Barrie. Have a safe journey. Your loving sister, Lucretia

1916

His True Love

To reach one’s first birthday was an important milestone, and Mabel was determined to make Charles’s first birthday extra special. She had everything planned: In the afternoon, they would be photographed. She didn’t want the harshness of pure black forever to shroud her son’s keepsake so, for the first time since Geoffrey’s death, she was wearing a brightly colored dress. After dinner, Charles would have his first taste of cake, with frosting striped to mimic a circus tent, and open his gift. Mabel spent a great deal of time selecting just the right wrapping paper and bow, even though she knew he’d probably have more fun with the packaging than the gift itself. When Mabel sat down to breakfast, she was smiling. The smile quickly faded, however, when Gardner entered the room and began buttering his toast, the knife scratching the bread like sandpaper on wood. “I’ve been thinking of ing the royal engineers,” he said, grinning. A strange feeling overcame her. Had she just heard him say he wanted to enlist? “What? A year and a half ago you said anyone who ed the military was foolish. You called Geoffrey and my sister terrible names.” “Yes, but think of the bridges I might be able to build.” Gardner had a far off expression, and Mabel knew that in his imagination he was already building bridges and had forgotten all about Charles’ birthday. “Is that all you think about – bloody bridges?” She slammed her napkin on the table and stood. “This family has sacrificed enough. Let it be someone else’s turn.” “It would be an excellent opportunity.” “Geoffrey is dead, buried in a foreign field we’ll never be able to visit. Hettie left. Freddie left. Victor left. We don’t know if we’ll ever see them again. We have sacrificed enough. You’re staying home.” Gardner looked jubilant. “But, Mabel, think of the beautiful bridges.”

“You’re the most selfish person I’ve ever met. Go to hell.” Mabel pushed her chair into the table and stomped away. “Did I say something wrong?” Gardner said as she crossed the threshold. He laughed to himself before shoving the piece of toast into his mouth.

“THAT’S FINE FOR HIM to completely change his mind, isn’t it?” Lucretia said, after listening to Mabel’s recollection of the previous day’s breakfast. “If someone else does it, he is foolish. If Gardner wants to do it, it’s a grand idea.” “He is a hypocrite. I am learning so much that I wish I knew three or four years ago,” Mabel said, her jaw tense and fists clenched in her lap. “What if he actually goes?” “He won’t once he finds out how little the royal engineers pay.” “Pay is important to him?” “Of course. Gardner is useless, absolutely useless, for anything other than bringing home his wages.” Lucretia patted her daughter’s knee. “Then he’s not useless, dear. He serves one purpose.” “Oh, Mother, it was horrible. All day I was the proper hostess, so I forced a smile every time a guest arrived. I tried pushing Gardner out of my thoughts. It was Charles’ day, after all. I ate dinner with Mrs. Watson in the kitchen, and we served Charles his birthday cake. Gardner was nowhere to be found. I’m just grateful Charles is too young to question why.” Mabel buried her face in the arm of the high back chair. “I often daydream about divorcing him.” Lucretia went instantly pale, thoughts of a young Amelia Bartlette popping into her mind. “Does he ever lay hands on you?” “No. The majority of the time he’s indifferent to me.” “Are you telling me the truth? You’re not just saying ‘no’ to cover up for him or to avoid shame or because you believe it’s your lot in life?” Mabel lifted her head and shook it. “No. I would not lie for him. That would mean I love him more than I do. He is quite indifferent to me.” Lucretia breathed a sigh of relief. “Well, then, you have no option but to stay.

Divorce would ruin you. Think of the scandal. Life would become difficult for both you and Charles. You have no means of ing yourself. What would you do? Share a home with Hettie and have her you?” Mabel squirmed in her seat. She knew her mother was right. Even if she had the means to earn a living, divorces were difficult to obtain. At the same time, the courts did grant some divorces, so perhaps there was a way; she just didn’t know what it was yet. She was about to answer when Mrs. Norris entered the sitting room and curtseyed slightly. “Pardon the intrusion, madams, but something is wrong with Master Freddie’s dog.” Lucretia sat forward, pallor again returning to her face. “What is wrong with it?” “I can’t rouse it.” “Show me.” Mrs. Norris led them to the kitchen and pointed at Flossie who was laying on the floor near the icebox. She was oddly motionless, and something about her fur didn’t seem quite right. Lucretia put her hand on the dog’s nose and shook her head. The old dog was not breathing. Mabel started to cry, sobbing so hard you’d think it was Freddie who had died. “Get ahold of yourself,” Lucretia said. “We need to do something with the body.” Mrs. Norris said, “We must bury it.” “But Mr. Steward won’t be home for hours yet.” “The bigger problem is the ground is frozen.” “Well, we can’t leave it in the kitchen. It’s unsanitary.” “I know just the thing.” Mrs. Norris retrieved a potato sack for the pantry. “We

can move the dog to the barn until the thaw.” Mabel stood, seemingly unable to function, as the older women maneuvered the corpse into the sack. After a few minutes, she regained control of her emotions and held up her hand. “Wait.” “What is it?” Lucretia said. Mabel knelt beside old the bulldog and patted its head. “You were a faithful companion, and your master was proud.” The sad task completed, the women carried the sack to the barn. The building was several yards behind the house and contained Benjamin’s car, a sleigh, a wagon, and the family’s horses. One of the horses whinnied as if curious what was happening. Mabel took note of the structure, momentarily forgetting why they were there, and suppressed a smile at the thought that Lucretia was unaware of all the mischief that occurred in the loft. Something rubbed against Mabel’s boot, and she scooped up her favorite barn cat, nuzzling it against her. “Hello, Mary Lou. Did you miss me, girl?” Mabel had a special bond with Mary Lou that went back to the pet’s days as a kitten. Snuggling should have filled her with warm feelings, but she ed Gardner and scowled. A very specific memory from nearly four years ago entered her mind. That day, Mabel had been in the barn brushing one of the horses, Mary Lou at her heels, when she heard a voice. “Hello, Sugar,” Gardner had said from the access door on the far end of the barn. As Gardner approached, Mary Lou pushed herself protectively against Mabel’s legs. Animals are very intuitive, and Mary Lou was trying to warn her, but Mabel had failed to get the hint. “What a pleasant surprise,” Mabel had said to him, blushing, “What are you doing here?” “Do I need an excuse to see my beautiful fiancée? I couldn’t wait until this evening. I have a surprise.” Gardner pulled a small bouquet from behind his

back. “I picked them myself.” “How sweet,” she said and took the flowers, smiling as she drank in their lovely scent. The memory made Mabel grimace as if she just tasted something bitter. Why had I been so blind and foolish? Gardner had been on his best behavior during their courtship; his true nature didn’t come out until later. He wanted her because he loved the chase, and he needed a wife for no other than reason than that’s what people do. Why had he chosen her to be his token wife? In hindsight, there were indications Gardner was not affectionate. When they spent time with Hettie and Geoffrey, each couple chaperoning the other, Hettie and Geoffrey were always smiling, holding hands, walking arm in arm, while Gardner kept a respectable distance as if their elders were watching. “Come along, Mabel,” Lucretia said, snapping her daughter out of her introspection. The sack tucked safely into a corner of the barn, the women walked across the yard back to the house. Lucretia said, “Someone needs to write Freddie.” “I’ll do it,” Mabel said. “I’ll do it delicately.” “Very well. Stress Flossie’s age in the letter. It’s important Freddie believes she died quickly. Even if she didn’t. We’ll never know for sure.” “Mother, the things I told you earlier, please do not share them with anyone. You’re the only person I’ve ever told. I haven’t even told Hettie. She mustn’t think any of us are anything but happy. It’ll cause her worry.” “We’re all unhappy. We simply go about our lives pretending everything is like before and that the life we knew before the war isn’t over, but it will never return.”

DEAR FREDDIE, How are you dear brother? I hope you are well. Mother complains we don’t hear from you nearly as often as we should. I will say that, while I miss you, I will never lecture you for doing what you must. I am not personally strong enough to deflect Mother’s unsolicited advice. I am writing you today for a very specific reason. It is a profoundly sad reason. I hope you are alone and sitting down, so you can comprehend what I am about to say. Poor darling Flossie has ed on. She died in a place she loved well – the kitchen. I when Flossie followed you home one day and refused to leave. That was 10 years ago. Mother didn’t like it at first, but eventually she allowed Flossie into the house on occasion. Flossie was accepted into the household, but was always your dog. You made quite a tidy profit from the sale of her countless puppies. I’m proud of your enterprising spirit. In recent years, Flossie was overweight, arthritic and possibly going blind, and I wonder if she really was ancient. After she ed, I told her she was a faithful companion and that her master was proud. I felt I should do this on your behalf. I’m very sorry, Freddie. She shall be missed. Your sister, Mabel Hill

The Happy Announcement That Turned Sour

–E ntry in Lucretia’s diary– June 11, 1916 A wonderful thing happened today at Sunday dinner. Walter announced he and Dorothea are going to be parents in a few months. When he said he had an announcement to make, I felt fear. I thought another son had succumbed to this madness. My relief! He then burst into laughter as if releasing pent up pressure after he said it. Dorothea beamed, amid a chorus of congratulations. Dorothea and Walter have been married for four years and until now it seemed as if they might never have children. My second thought was that I couldn’t wait to tell my sisters, but then I ed Amelia, and my newfound smile faded. Teddy and Caroline have been married for seven years and are childless. All Amelia wants is grandchildren. She obsesses over it, harasses Teddy about it. How will she receive this news? It will not go well, not well at all. At one point, Tommy asked me if something was the matter. “How will I tell Mrs. Bartlette?” I told him. “It’s not like I can hide a grandchild.” That is the question. How will I tell her?

–ENTRY IN TOMMY’S JOURNAL– June 11, 1916 Walter had an announcement this evening. He is to become Mother and Father’s first son to have a child. I will no doubt be next. I can imagine Maeve and me making the same announcement in a year or two, and it brings a smile to my face. It is something to which to look forward. After the announcement, I strolled to the breakfast room and asked Adelaide if she had heard she was going to be an aunt again. Instead of Adelaide, Agnes looked at me and said, “Uncle Tommy, where do babies come from?” I had been thinking about Maeve at that moment, and I felt my face flush hot. I told her that was a question for her mother. We’ll see how Ida handles that. Oh, and Mother is all flustered about how she will tell Mrs. Bartlette. What kind of friendship is it when one must be concerned to share such news?

FOR THE FIRST TIME in months, the drapes in the Bartlette house were partially open, letting in a few rays of sunshine and giving Lucretia a glimmer of hope that perhaps Amelia was feeling better. Sitting beside her in the Bartlettes’ front room was Alice. Alice had fond memories of all the Bartlette siblings save Gilbert, who sat across the room from her. Gilbert was born the same year as Ida and once was ambitious, but a boiler fire during his time with the Ontario Simcoe and Huron Railway scarred his hands and dashed all hopes and all means of earning a living. Alice was just under seven years old when the accident happened and barely ed the old Gilbert. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Gilbert was about to go walking,” Amelia said as a ray of light glinted off the mantel mirror. Gilbert walked often, sometimes all the way to the train station in Allendale. Whether he went there to reminisce fondly or to dwell on the past, none of the Stewards knew. “Alice can go along,” Lucretia said. Alice scrunched her nose as hard as she could. Why would she want to go anywhere with him? “But, Mother, I don’t want to go.” “It’s all right,” Lucretia said, pretending she was unaware of why Alice was protesting. “There will be plenty of tea waiting when you return.” “Mother, I simply do not want to go.” “It would be polite if you did.” “Mother, please, my toe hurts.” Lucretia leaned close to her daughter and lowered her voice. “I know fair well that your foot is fine. I need you to leave so I can discuss something with Mrs. Bartlette privately. It requires some sensitivity.” Alice acquiesced, slightly bowing her head. She understood her mother’s

reference and did not envy the situation, but she still did not want to go. She had never told anyone, but Gilbert somewhat frightened her. He represented vulnerability and failure, and when he removed his gloves to reveal his horribly scarred and disfigured hands, it turned her stomach. She stood. “Come along, Gilbert. We know where we’re not wanted.” Why did Alice need to make a theatrical production out of everything? Lucretia shot Alice a stern glance then turned to Amelia and smiled. “The exercise will be good for them.” “Gilbert takes a lot of exercise. It’s good for the constitution.” Lucretia eyed Gilbert and imagined him as teenager. She ed him sitting in the exact same place he was now, playing a secondhand flute he had learned to play by ear. His fingers were so nimble, and the music so sweet. Geoffrey and Victor were sitting nearby, playing checkers on a board they made themselves. All were blissfully unaware life would change and not for the better.

So what if Dorothea was expecting? Why were Mrs. Bartlette’s feelings so easily hurt that she had to be told privately? Alice pondered as she kept what she felt was a safe distance from Gilbert. He kicked a rock, and it skipped down the road. She watched it before deciding they had been out long enough and she needed to establish boundaries. “I think you had best know I have a boyfriend, so don’t get any ideas. No one would court you anyway with those God awful hands.” “These hands inspired Hettie to become a nurse.” “Well, you can see where that got her... And Freddie.” “And my two brothers.” “What about your two brothers? Their decision had nothing to do with your hands.” “Your boyfriend was Geoffrey’s employer. That’s disrespectful, don’t you think?” “Don’t think I didn’t notice you changed the subject. And, no, not at all. I never heard Geoffrey or Hettie complain about him, which tells me he is kind and just.” “My brother was not one to complain.” “Hettie would not stand for your brother being mistreated.” “So Hettie is the end all and know all?” Alice squinted in displeasure. Beads of perspiration were forming on her forehead. She fanned herself with her hand and imagined herself sitting in the garden back home, drinking a lemonade. “Why do you enjoy doing this?” she said. “It’s awfully hot.” “Don’t you ever do something for the sheer joy of doing it?” “Hump. I don’t have loads of unscheduled time like some people.”

He shrugged. “Believe me, I’d rather be busy.” Alice considered this for a moment but said nothing. Her mind had wandered again. What were Benjamin, Tommy and Adelaide doing right now? Surely, something more enjoyable than this. When she said nothing else, he said, “What does your mother have to discuss with mine?” She glanced at him before focusing on the horizon and swallowed, not knowing what Mother would want her to say. “She has news to share is all.” “What kind of news?” “I told you. Family news.” “You never said ‘family’ news.” Alice shook her head. “You’re very suspicious of people.” “And you’re not?” “Hettie always said you were prickly.” Gilbert put his gloved hands behind his back and hunched forward slightly. “There we are back to Hettie again.” “Hettie is an independent-minded woman. I hope to be like her one day.” “You won’t. You’ll marry and never pursue higher education Miss ‘I have a boyfriend’.” “I can drive a car. Walter taught me. Can you?” Gilbert squinted but did not respond. Alice tilted her head upward and smiled. She had won.

When Alice and Gilbert returned to the Bartlette house, Lucretia was waiting outside on the stoop with her chatelaine dangling off her forearm by the chain. “What’s happening?” Alice said. Lucretia smiled at Gilbert whose mouth was agape. “Mrs. Bartlette felt a bit faint from the heat. She went upstairs to lie down.” “Does she need anything?” Gilbert said. “No, nothing, child. We left the tea in the front room for you.” Lucretia stepped off the stoop and gently took Alice by the elbow. Once they were out of earshot, Alice said, “Did you tell her?” “Yes.” “Well, what happened?” “She congratulated me then started to cry and said she needed to be alone. I was outside nearly the entire time.” Alice sighed. That entire walk with Gilbert had been for nothing. What a waste – just like Gilbert.

Make a Decision

29 June 1916 ̶ Town councilor Mr. Steven Goodwin, a Liberal, has again made it publicly known that he is against Canadian involvement in the Great War. Mr. Goodwin stated a speedy and peaceful resolution to the war must be found in order to ensure there are no more needless Canadian deaths.

“This nation,” he said, “has sacrificed enough, and more, equally costly sacrifices, are ahead if the war is not brought to an end.”

Mr. Goodwin has not gone into specifics about how the war could be peacefully concluded without the Allies making uncomfortable concessions.

Mr. Goodwin is still considering a run for Parliament. Whether public opinion will be on his side is another matter.

“SO WHEN ARE YOU GOING to make a decision?” “Stop bothering me about making a decision. Every time I see you it’s ‘make a decision’.” “It’s in the newspapers now!” Lucretia said as she tossed the Barrie Examiner across the table at her brother. Steven ignored the pages as they landed in front of him with a plop. “I’ve been in the newspapers before for saying nearly the same thing. The federal election’s date isn’t even set yet.” “So you’re going to wait until the last minute?” “No, not at all. I’m going to hear what people have to say.” Lucretia fidgeted and rolled her eyes. “Going to hear what people have to say.” Steven said nothing and tapped the shaft of his pen against his tea saucer in a series of rhythmic clinks, flicking small drops of ink on the Examiner. He avoided eye with Lucretia, focusing his gaze on the biscuit that sat on his saucer. Finally, after several minutes, he said, “I should think you of all people would have more important things to worry about.” Lucretia inhaled sharply, the air whistling as it ed through her nose, and her face growing red. “You’re using my children’s names in your statements.” “Without them, Lucretia, I have nothing to back up my arguments. There would be no urgency in my message.” Lucretia opened her mouth to respond when Bertha entered the sitting room. “I’m sorry I’m late,” Bertha said while removing her hat and gloves. “I would have been back sooner but I happened to see your sister Sadie. She said Jane had her baby – a boy named Sylvester. She’s going over later on to help, so I promised I’d go, too. Did I miss anything while I was gone?”

Steven said, “No. Not a thing. Lucretia and I were discussing current events.” Bertha smiled as she set her accessories on the table. Alan revealed himself and slapped the back of the sofa, where he had been hiding, with both hands as if he were a chimpanzee. “You did miss something. They were discussing the war. People are always discussing the war, and Dad was lying. Did you hear me? Dad lied.” “Lower your voice,” Bertha said, a scowl forming. “I’d take a switch to him,” Steven said to her, “if it’d do any good.” Lucretia nodded as if the words had been spoken to her. I wonder if it’s time to have Alan committed and let professionals handle it. But that would tarnish Steven’s reputation and put his name in the papers even more. His reputation and the family’s must be preserved lest we all fall into disgrace.

Alan stood on the sofa, making animal noises, before jumping off the back of it and running from the room. “What are we going to do with that boy?” Bertha said. “When he’s older, he’ll be much taller and stronger.” “We’ll worry about it when it comes,” Steven said. Lucretia wanted to assert her opinion that Alan was never going to be a normal, agreeable child when Bertha abruptly changed the subject. “Come with us to Jane’s this evening,” Bertha said. “Oh,” Lucretia said, not feeling particularly sociable and pausing to allow herself time to make up an excuse. “I’m expected at Ida and James’ tonight. Cordelia is practicing for her first end-of-the-school-year recitation and needs a teacher’s guiding hand.” “Ah, that’s too bad, but her school marks are important.”

“More important than life itself if you ask my husband.” Steven shifted his gaze from his wife to his sister. His mouth was opened as if he were about to speak when they heard Matilda’s voice echoing from the reception room. “I told you not to take that, Alan. Bring it back this instant.” “I will not.” Alan was holding an open bottle of ink. “Stop!” Matilda said, unaware the adults were now behind them, observing everything. “I’m tired of hearing about the war. And the Germans. The bloody Germans. Mom and Dad bought this rug in , and I’m going to destroy it.” Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Alan tipped the bottle and poured the ink in a pattern on the expensive rug. Her beloved wedding gift ruined, Bertha gasped, and Lucretia saw tears forming in her sister-in-law’s eyes. “This is why I can’t make a decision,” Steven said, his voice increasingly rising. “Too many bloody distractions. I’m 40 goddamn years old, and my sister treats me like a child, and my son will be the death of me yet. And thanks to prohibition I can’t even get a drink right now.” He grabbed Alan by the arm. “Come with me.” “I must meet Sadie.” Bertha hid her tears and hurriedly left the room. Lucretia found herself alone with her niece and the ruined rug. “Aunt Lucretia, what are we to do?” “We are to do nothing. This is for your parents to do. Tell them good-bye for me.” Every time I come here it’s one problem after another.

–ENTRY IN LUCRETIA’S diary– June 28, 1916 Oh, what a day. First, I had a row with Steven. No, not a row. He simply won’t listen to reason and drop this Parliament nonsense. Then, that spawn of Satan Steven and Bertha call a son made a ruckus. He makes life for his poor parents and siblings nearly impossible. I wish they would do something about him before it’s too late. That may be a terrible thing to say, but I think it is entirely possible he could harm himself or someone else in the future. Finally, even though I told Bertha I would not, I accompanied her and Sadie to Jane’s. Sadie is overprotective of Jane and hovers over her as if she were deadly ill. Jane is feeling fine if not a bit irritated with Sadie’s insistent need to take her temperature to monitor for childbed fever. Sadie has reason to be paranoid, I suppose, seeing as only three of her five children survived to adulthood, and Jane is not only the only daughter but the only child still living in Barrie. David is not coming back from Port Arthur or Jim from Sudbury any time soon. While we were there, we discussed Steven. Bertha confessed she does not want to live in Ottawa. I told her it doesn’t really matter. Steven would never win anyway – he’s a pacifist – and he knows it. That is the delay in his decision making.

End of an Era

The summer breeze fanning his face, Benjamin shifted in his seat and felt his ts ache. Sitting on his lap was a quarter ream of paper, the newspapers he had developed the habit of reading religiously when he was a teenager keenly interested in Confederation. There were several – all of Barrie’s, two from Toronto and one from Ottawa – but what once made him feel informed and connected to the rest of the country, now disgusted him. “Tommy, come here, please,” he said after catching his son’s shadow with the corner of his eye. “You wanted something, Father?” Tommy said from the threshold. “I was on my way to the Bartlettes’. Mabel is going there for tea.” “The women will be just fine without you chaperoning them.” Benjamin dropped the stack of newspapers on the floor with a thud. “You’ve heard of the Somme?” “Hasn’t everyone? The question now is when the Canadian Corps will enter.” “I shudder to think about it. Your brother and sister are noncombatants, but they are not safe. You know they are not safe? You know and acknowledge this?” “Yes, Father, I am well aware. I scour the death and casualty lists for people I know and sometimes—” Tommy stopped himself and glanced briefly at the wall. “Sometimes what?” “Sometimes someone will be from a medical unit. But not often. I shouldn’t have mentioned it at all. I don’t want you to worry.” “Too late. I am already worried. Especially after what happened to the Newfoundlanders on Dominion Day, of all days.” “Newfoundland is a crown colony and doesn’t celebrate Dominion Day, Father, but yes, it was a terrible waste of men.”

Benjamin shifted once more and tried not to let Tommy see he was in pain. The preceding two years had aged him significantly, but he refused to blame Hettie and Freddie. Lucretia would do that for him. No, he never would blame them for his failing health. “Yes, of course, I would find the timing horrible whereas they would not,” he said. “I think the Newfoundlanders would find it horrible regardless of what day it happened.” “Yes, perhaps. You may leave for the Bartlettes’. You mother should be home from Aunt Sadie’s soon.” Tommy nodded. “Of course, Father. I’ll see you for dinner.” Tommy left and, as predicted, Lucretia arrived home just as the grandfather clock in the reception room chimed the hour. Benjamin called her, and when she entered the study, he spoke before she had the opportunity. “Sit down. I have something important to discuss with you.” He could tell from her expression that she assumed bad news and quickly added, “Lucretia, I’ve been thinking about this for a while. I need to retire.” She stared at him blankly. “I’m sorry. What?” “I need to retire. My rheumatism is getting worse. For years, I only felt it during the colder months. Now I feel it year around. It makes working all day difficult.” “But finances. We’ll starve.” “We are far from starving. There is still plenty of our inheritances left, and the rest of the children will be out of the house soon. I can tutor. I can make a living doing that, and that would allow me the opportunity to determine my own hours.” “But I don’t understand why you must retire.” “Lucretia, I’m 64 years old. I have had rheumatic fever twice. My ts ache

almost constantly, and I’m tired.” She fell silent, but her expression did not change. “It will seem quite strange with you home. You’ve worked the entire time I’ve known you. I met you at work. I—” Lucretia trailed off then rose from her chair and left the room. That went better than I expected, Benjamin thought and grimaced in pain as he bent down to retrieve his newspapers. Why did I throw these on the floor? Stupid me. The memory of the day nearly five years ago when former Prime Minister Wilfrid Laurier was campaigning through Barrie ed through his mind. Walter was the only other member of the immediate family who was eligible to vote at the time, but Benjamin also took his younger sons, his wife and all his daughters to the rally, even Ida who had to lie to James about where she was going because he would disapprove. Afterward, they had gathered and discussed the merits and demerits of reciprocity. Five years ago, the politicians made everything seem like a matter of life and death. Little did they know in the near future there would be real matters of life and death.

AT THE SAME TIME BENJAMIN was announcing his retirement to Lucretia, Mabel was having tea with Mrs. Bartlette and Gilbert. Maeve, who was feeling guilty her impending marriage would leave Amelia with no one other than a disabled son at home, had created a social calendar for her mother. There was to be at least one visitor per day, and today was Mabel’s day. Mabel had agreed with the understanding that Maeve would be there but, much to Mabel’s chagrin, Maeve left with Tommy the moment he arrived. Mabel had known Amelia her entire life but, surrounded by melancholy, felt increasingly uncomfortable in Mrs. Bartlette’s presence in recent years and didn’t want to be alone with her, preferring the accompaniment of Lucretia or Hettie. Today, Mother had plans with Aunt Sadie, and Hettie, well, she was otherwise engaged into the perceivable future. Gilbert, meanwhile, did not seem any happier. As a member of his mother’s household, he was forced to attend these ladies teas, and Mabel realized they must be incredibly boring for him. “It seems as if this war will never end,” Amelia said. “No,” Mabel said, nodding. “It is quite a tragedy.” “You know my late husband, God rest his soul, was a Conservative.” “Oh?” Mabel sat forward, although she wasn’t quite surprised. “Oh, yes. Well, he was very Empire-centric. He believed we all should stand in service to the Mother Country. He probably would favor conscription in situations like this.” “Conscription?” “Yes. The government requiring young men to for compulsory military service.” Mabel was well aware of the definition and clenched her jaw. How could Amelia, of all people, be discussing conscription? Or were these her late husband’s views?

“Do you truly think conscription is necessary?” Mabel said. “Oh, of course, the army will soon run out of volunteers.” Mabel could not imagine Amelia willingly sacrificing Teddy, her last remaining able-bodied son, for the cause. I, for one, am not willing to sacrifice my brothers, cousins or uncles, but Gardner, he, he can go. “I’d rather not discuss this,” Mabel said, taking a sip of tea. Gilbert said nothing. Why would he care about conscription anyway? He wasn’t eligible for military service, and Mabel wasn’t even certain he voted. Amelia also took a sip. “Very well. Is Dorothea prepared for the baby?” “Oh, yes. She and Walter have been discussing plans for the nursery.” “It would be a shame if the baby died.” Mabel, who recently found herself again pregnant, felt a pins-and-needles feeling overcome her. She glanced at Gilbert for help, and he had leaned forward in his chair as if he might say something but didn’t. “Don’t look so shocked, dear,” Amelia said. “It’s a very real possibility.” “But it’s not something people plan for.” “Well, they should. A new child is to be feared, not looked upon with anticipation.” Amelia did outlive many a child, but why must she say these things about Walter’s only child? Mabel’s hand started shaking slightly. And what about her own baby; was it going to die? Amelia went on. “Your mother doesn’t know what it’s like because somehow all her children lived.” It was true. All of Lucretia’s children did live, but so did many other people’s. Not all, mind, Mabel acknowledged, but enough that many families were intact. Infant mortality had dropped since industrialization. That was a fact. Surely

Amelia knew that, didn’t she? Not that it probably mattered to a woman who was perpetually grieving, always viewing the world through the mourning veil. “I said something you know is true,” Amelia said. “Do you know how difficult it was for me to watch all my dearest friend’s children thrive while mine withered away? I never itted jealousy – your mother never knew – but it was there. Still is.” “Mama,” Gilbert said, “why must you bring up these things? The past is over.” “It might be over for you, but it isn’t for me. It will never be over.” “Can you try for the sake of others?” “No, this is my lot in life.” Mabel squirmed in her seat. “Oh, look at the time, I had best leave. Mr. Hill will be cross if he returns home and I am not there.” This seemed to placate Amelia, as she understood the role of the subservient wife. “Oh, of course, you mustn’t anger your husband. I don’t want to be responsible for that.” Amelia stood. “I’ll walk you out.” “No, it is all right. I know the way. We needn’t stand on formality here.” Mabel, too, rose to her feet and retrieved her belongings from the sideboard. “It was a pleasure. We will need to do it again in the future.” Mabel forced herself to smile, and then retreated from the room as quickly as possible.

–ENTRY IN MABEL’S DIARY– July 15, 1916 ... After the disastrous tea, I ran, literally ran to the surprise and amusement of pedestrians, to Mother and Father’s house where I burst into tears immediately upon telling Mother about how Mrs. Bartlette was cursing unborn children. I asked Mother how Mrs. Bartlette could say such awful things, and she said I must consider the source. She said Mrs. Bartlette is accustomed to grief and expects it. I do not understand how Mother could be friends with such a woman. They are such vastly different people. Father entered the room then and inquired what was the matter. He said Mrs. Bartlette is only happy when she’s miserable. I told them how Mrs. Bartlette believes in instituting conscription, which shocked them both. Then Father had shocking news of his own. He plans to retire. I didn’t immediately respond, and Mother seemed displeased he shared this with me. My parents continued speaking, but I was no longer paying attention to what they were saying. How could Father retire? He is a natural educator. However, as I eyed Father, I noticed he was in pain. He has been ill one time too many and deserves a rest. I told him, “Father, I think that it’s a good thing. You deserve a life of leisure.” He seemed to appreciate it. As far as my excuse to Mrs. Bartlette, I wish it were only an excuse, but Gardner does not like coming home to an empty house, even if Mrs. Watson is handling dinner.

Victor’s Homecoming

Maeve squeezed Tommy’s hand as the pair sat together in the Stewards’ back garden taking in the late summer sun. “I’m happy I’m ing your family. It’s always peaceful here.” Tommy wrinkled his brow and nearly laughed. How was that possible? In the old days, there were 10 people in the household. It was never quiet, and even now the house was always full of debates and bickering. No topic seemed to escape scrutiny and interpretation. “The Steward house peaceful?” he said, trying not to dismiss her opinion as he squeezed back her hand. “Compared to my house, yes. There’s always someone crying, and our neighbors are so close, we often hear noises from them.” “I hope you’re not the one crying.” “No.” Maeve laughed. “You know my mother. She cries.” Tommy heard voices coming from inside the house. A prime example of that nice peace and quiet, Maeve was talking about. He sighed but, despite himself, was curious what was happening. “It’s getting chilly. We should go in.” The couple left the patio and found the source of the voices. Lucretia and the girls were in the reception room sorting through the mail. The Canadians entered the Battle of the Somme in September, and ever since Hettie wrote nothing but notes, blaming the brevity on being busy. Freddie, meanwhile, who even under normal circumstances never wrote often, had stopped corresponding entirely. “Anything?” Tommy said. Lucretia shook her head. “No, nothing. This battle has reached insanely ridiculous proportions.” Benjamin exited his study to the conversation. “The French have been at Verdun longer.”

“Thank you,” Lucretia said, irritation creeping into her voice. “I didn’t realize there was a scorecard.” “No scorecard. We must be accurate.” Lucretia sorted the mail before ing each stack to its intended recipient then finally acknowledged Maeve as if only now noticing her. “How is your brother, Maeve? Has anyone heard from Victor?” “Mama received word this morning that he’s being demobilized for medical reasons. That’s all we know.” “It could be any number of reasons,” Alice said, speaking for the first time since Tommy and Maeve entered the room and bouncing on her heels. “Anything from a blighty to dismemberment.” “Alice,” Benjamin said, shaking his head “no.” She raised her arms then brought them back down to her sides with a slap. “For the sake of accuracy, Father, we must consider all possibilities.” Maeve slipped her arm in Tommy’s as if doing so would protect her from negative thoughts. “All I know is Mama is upset. She already has Gilbert to take care of. How can she care for two maimed sons?” “It’s premature to say ‘maimed’,” Benjamin said. “Mama is fearful. What would you think in her place?” “I’d calculate the odds,” Adelaide said, “to see what was most likely.” “You’d calculate the odds?” Alice said. “About Victor? Mrs. Bartlette probably doesn’t know what probability is yet alone how to calculate it.” “I think we are all missing the point,” Tommy said, feeling uncomfortable his family was debating Victor’s fate as if Maeve wasn’t there. “What’s important is Victor is coming home.” “Yes,” Lucretia said, “that is what’s most important. That’ll be one less person

to worry about. Maeve, tell your mother I will visit when Victor is home. I am anxious to see him.” “Don’t you mean ‘eager’?” Maeve said. “No, I mean ‘anxious’.” Lucretia smiled at Maeve and Tommy then started up the staircase. Tommy glanced at Maeve and hoped his eyes didn’t betray his true feelings. He wanted to put her at ease, but his mother’s behavior was making that difficult. How could he set her at ease when pessimism was beginning to rule both households?

DEAR MOTHER, I am writing you with urgent news in mind. I’m certain, by the time you read this, you’ll know all about Victor. He will be returned home tomorrow and no doubt will precede this message. Please know I would have warned you of this in advance if I could, but I didn’t have any notice myself. I can only imagine what going home will be like for Victor. I’m certain he’ll be happy to be home, but how will everyone treat him? Most of the doctors here acknowledge shell shock is a real condition; it is the cause that is in dispute. No one knows, but most think it is cowardice or a slip from reality. Victor claims he is suffering from neither of these. I do not know what to think. In my heart, I want to believe him, but I know nothing firsthand of his military service. Please try to assure Mrs. Bartlette that this is not her fault. She raised her children well. I’m sure she will be questioning herself and her abilities. Make certain she doesn’t grieve too much. I will be writing you again soon. Hopefully, with more information if I can get one of the doctors to speak to me about Victor’s condition. I am very confused and saddened by the entire situation. I’m just happy Geoffrey isn’t here to see this. Lord knows he would blame himself, and I could not stand that. I hope you and Father are well. I think of you often. I see Freddie from time to time. I know he doesn’t write as often as you would like, but his work is very important. He is many men’s hero because he saves their lives. You should be proud. Your daughter, Hettie

A FEW DAYS LATER, NEWS of Victor’s homecoming reached Lucretia, and she quickly made her way to H Block. For some reason, the front yard of the Bartlette house seemed more unkempt than usual, and she shook her head at the sight of it. What did Gilbert do all day? His hands were permanently scarred, yes, but they weren’t useless. Surely, he could push a lawn mower or buy a goat. Amelia molly coddles that boy as if he still were literally a boy. Maeve answered the door wearing a yellow dress that was as sunny as she was and blushed as if it were Tommy who walked through the door. “Why, Mrs. Steward, what a pleasure. I didn’t know Mama was expecting you today.” “She isn’t,” Lucretia said, entering the house before Maeve gave permission to do so. “I came to call on Victor.” “Oh.” Maeve hung her head, mood suddenly changed. “He’s not here.” “Will he be back shortly? I would very much like to see him.” Lucretia kept her voice upbeat but sensed something was amiss. Maeve cleared her throat. “It’s not very likely. Mama had him committed.” Lucretia’s temperature rose, and she shook her head slightly. What did Maeve just say? “Come again?” “Yes. She said it was for the best.” Lucretia inhaled sharply and held her chatelaine close to her body as she pulled her shoulders back. “Where is your mother?” Maeve refused to make eye . “Upstairs.” “I’ll wait.” Trying not to let her impatience get the better of her, Lucretia sat on the sofa. Maeve sat as well, taking a seat on the opposite side of the front room, and twiddled her thumbs. They sat uncomfortably in silence until a clamor could be

heard upstairs followed by the squeak of the staircase. Amelia appeared not long after and took a step backward when she saw Lucretia. “Oh, Lucretia, did I forget about a tea? Do I have my days confused?” No longer able to contain her emotions, Lucretia stood, her face beginning to turn crimson. “What in the name of God did you do to Victor? Where is he?” “He’s at an institution.” “What sort of institution?” Amelia did not respond. “Answer my question, Amelia.” “In a home for the insane.” “The insane? How is Victor insane?” Amelia held her arms in front of herself as if trying to keep Lucretia at a distance. “They say he has shell shock. That’s poppycock. It’s military speak for someone who’s lost his mind.” Lucretia stomped across the room, slowly twisting her body for dramatic effect. “You’re the one who lost her mind.” Maeve’s eyes grew wide, as did Amelia’s. The friends rarely quarreled, and they never called one another degrading names. Lucretia continued, “That boy has been in Europe for a year, seen untold horrors, and the army, in its infinite wisdom, decides to send him home where he is safe, where he is surrounded by friendly faces and can live his life in peace, and you decide to commit him?” Just as Lucretia turned to leave, Gilbert entered the house through the front door, blocking her escape. She stopped mid-motion and exhaled sharply in disapproval. Gilbert said nothing but did not move. Lucretia was stuck, and her skin started to itch. The only other way out of the

house was to exit via the back door. That would mean coming within feet of Amelia and ing through the entirety of the dining room and kitchen. Maybe she could just push Gilbert out of the way? It would be faster and potentially easier. Amelia began to cry, and Lucretia again exhaled sharply. Why did Amelia always burst into tears? “You don’t know how difficult it is,” Amelia said between sobs, “to find yourself in this situation. Your children are perfect.” Lucretia’s anger subsided somewhat upon hearing the ridiculousness of her friend’s statement. “Have you met my children?” “Your children are perfect, and you don’t even know it. You quibble over their character flaws and question their decisions, but you fail to see you have eight, healthy, able-bodied children. Eight! What do I have? I have two healthy, ablebodied children. Two! Another is maimed. Now one is insane. Yet another is dead. And I have all of these.” Amelia swept her arm out in front of the mantle, which displayed her other children’s death photos. Lucretia scrutinized the tiny, lifeless faces. There were 11 bookending a larger photograph of Geoffrey in uniform, a black ribbon in the corner of the frame. “If Gordon hadn’t—” Lucretia started to say, but stopped when she ed Maeve was in the room. Maeve was only ten when her father died and had no idea of his true character. Biting her lip, Lucretia continued, “We cannot change the past, Amelia. You cannot go back in time and make your children heathier or ensure you carry to term, but you can take care of the children you do have. Victor needs your help.” “I am giving him help as best I can.” “Amelia!” “She won’t change her mind,” Gilbert said, stepping aside from the door. “I’ve already tried. At this point, I’m simply grateful I wasn’t committed.”

“Fine. There’s no talking sense into her sometimes. Good-bye, Maeve and Gilbert, I shall see you at church on Sunday.” Lucretia left the Bartlette house questioning, for the first time in her life, why she was continuing this fractured friendship with Amelia.

Another Grandchild Enters the World

Dorothea’s hair was stuck to her sweaty, flushed face as her in-laws entered the bedroom followed by Walter. It had been an easy delivery, thankfully, and the baby was in her arms. “And there he is, our little Oliver,” he said. Lucretia gasped when she saw the newborn swaddled in a familiar blue blanket. The infant had ruddy cheeks and a head of hair as dark as Walter’s, and she loved him immediately. “You used the blanket Aunt Lucy made for you for your wedding?” Lucretia’s tone was flat, and Walter couldn’t tell whether it was a statement of fact or whether he was being criticized. He answered in the same manner. “Yes, Mother.” “Did you ring Grandmother?” “Yes. She said she’d have to write Oliver’s name down to it.” Lucretia’s mother, Rose, was not joking when she said she needed to write Oliver’s name down, but she wasn’t losing her memory to old age. There were so many descendants that, even having outlived some of them, she had no better method of keeping track of her 65 grandchildren and 60 great-grandchildren. Lucretia took Oliver in her arms without first asking for permission and gazed into his eyes. Benjamin placed his finger in the baby’s hand and felt a squeeze. “Father, may I speak with you?” Walter said. The men left the bedroom and retreated to the quiet of the downstairs sitting room. Walter poured two glasses of whiskey and handed Benjamin his before they sat in chairs on opposite sides of the room. A second later, they saluted with their glasses and drank. “I haven’t touched that bottle since prohibition went into effect,” Walter said.

“It’s a celebratory day,” Benjamin said. “If you have any reason to open it, it’s now.” They drank in silence for several minutes. Finally, Walter said, “Father, when Ida was born, were you prepared for fatherhood?” The memory of his eldest child’s birth should have been engrained in Benjamin’s mind, but it wasn’t. Though he tried, he could not that March day 30 years ago and his first sight of her, although he did Ida as an infant. “I don’t think anyone is prepared,” he said, not wanting to it precious memories were lost. “You learn as you go.” Walter nodded. “I hope I can be as good a father as you have been to all of us.” Benjamin smiled. “A parent’s job is to educate and mold his children into upstanding of society. If a man has done his job correctly, there will be a sense of accomplishment and pride.” Walter bit his lip. “Do you have a sense of pride and accomplishment?” He leaned forward, wondering how Benjamin would answer. After all, he was against the war to the point that mere mention of it infuriated him. He had vehemently disagreed with Hettie and Freddie’s decision to the medical corps. Their actions could be a considered a failure of upbringing. “I do,” Benjamin said. “With all your children?” “Yes, with all of them,” Benjamin said without hesitation. Walter inhaled in an attempt to conceal his surprise. So Benjamin was as proud of Hettie and Freddie as he was his other children? This marked the second time Walter was aware of that Benjamin had not objected to his children’s actions. This piqued Walter’s curiosity. If Benjamin found the war most objectionable, why didn’t he find Hettie and Freddie’s decisions equally objectionable? What was going on in his mind? What thought processes were at work?

Walter easily could have pursued the topic, sought clarification, but today was not a day for debate. It was a day for celebration, and there were so few things to celebrate in recent years. “I hope my brothers can feel the joy I’m experiencing now some day,” he said instead. “I’m sure Tommy will.” That was all Benjamin said, and Walter refilled their glasses.

–ENTRY IN LUCRETIA’S diary– November 2, 1916 The anxiety-ridden process has begun. Mrs. Norris announced her retirement to me a few days before Halloween. What a terrible time to do it. Every holiday has memories that, in this war, are bittersweet. When Steven was younger, he loved playing tricks on my young children on Halloween. Freddie learned Steven’s techniques and took over from his uncle. When Mrs. Norris told me her plans, we were having a conversation about continuing traditions, and I was overcome with emotion. The war begins. Hettie and Freddie leave. Geoffrey dies. Victor is demobilized for shell shock, but I can’t see him because his mother has him committed. Now Mrs. Norris is retiring. Yet another person in my life is leaving. More unwanted changes. I also am stuck with the dilemma of hiring someone for the first time in 30 years. Many qualified women are doing war work, although Benjamin reminds me there are no munitions factories in Barrie, so it shouldn’t be as difficult as I anticipate. I don’t know what to ask in interviews. I conducted the first one today, and thankfully it was interrupted by news of a grandchild’s arrival, providing me with a means of escape. How was I supposed to finish an interview when there was a new grandchild to see? Walter is finally a father after years of hoping and praying. Benjamin and I thought this day would never come. Oliver Benjamin Steward is our fifth grandchild and our second grandson. Surely, there will be more to come, starting with Mabel and then, in due time, Tommy. Hettie, Freddie, Alice and Adelaide, I pray, will be blessed with spouses with whom they can raise a family. Everything right now is so murky, however; it is difficult seeing past tomorrow, although we must try. It is maddening focusing on the present. I do so miss the past.

A Crybaby for Christmas

Ida carefully arranged a delicate spray of evergreens on her parlor mantle before inserting red candles into the display. The tree was waiting to be decorated on Christmas Eve, and she watered it using the can from her herb garden. Christmas was Ida’s favorite time of year, and there were so many wonderful memories associated with the holiday: caroling, sled rides, parties, making fudge for the extended family, snowball fights, decorating the tree. The war had put a damper on so many things, but Ida was determined to share as many traditions as possible with the girls and to make this a bright spot in an otherwise dismal year. She glanced at the clock. It wouldn’t be long before the girls were home, and James would follow not long after. She wanted the home to be perfect and, smiling, moved to the dining room where she arranged four brass bells on the sideboard and tied red velvet bows on each. The door creaked open, and the girls came bounding in, cheeks red and snow peppering their coats. “Agnes, Beatrice, Cordelia, did you have a wonderful day?” The girls began talking at once. Ida smiled then held up her hand to silence them. “One at a time. Tell me what you learned today.” She listened to each girl’s answer then said, “Wonderful. Before you begin your lessons I have something to show you.” The girls’ eyes grew wide when they saw Ida’s work in the parlor. “Mummy,” Agnes said, “it’s perfect. I can’t wait until Christmas.”

IDA RETURNED TO THE sitting room after tucking the girls in bed. James was waiting and, taking her hand, sat on the sofa beside her. His expression was serious, and she gasped. Oh, no, his position at the bank has been made redundant. What will we do?

“Ida, I’d like to request something of you.” “What?” She furrowed her brow, confused by what was about to follow. “Request something of me?” James leaned forward and placed his hands on his knees. “Yes, I’d like to celebrate Christmas with my family this year, and you can see yours on Boxing Day.” This holiday is our only respite from the war. He’s going to ruin this for me. All my plans. The girls. The traditions. “Christmas is only four days away. You’re changing plans now?” “Nothing says we must spend every Christmas with your family,” he said, irritation creeping into his voice. Ida twisted her hands in her lap nervously. The Morrises were Anglican and very religious, not that this should bother her, but it did greatly. “You gave me your word when we married that you never would make me convert.” “It’s one day, Ida. No one is making you convert.” “All your family does is pray.” “And Presbyterians don’t pray?” Ida stood. “Don’t twist my words, James. Christmas is supposed to be a day of fun.” “No. It’s a holy day.”

He wanted to say more, she could tell, but the words never came. Instead, he cried out in pain and clenched his jaw. “I wish you’d see a dentist,” she said. “I don’t need a dentist.” “You’ve been hurting for six weeks. If it’s abscessed, it’ll kill you.” Ida sat and, in an attempt to comfort him, put an arm around his shoulder. He brushed her away. “I’m perfectly fine,” he said, waving his arms in the air to prevent her from touching him again. “I’m going to lie down. Think about what I’ve said.” Her chest tightening, Ida watched James leave the room. Stubborn man. Why wouldn’t he listen to reason?

IDA’S PARTY DRESS WOULD be woefully out of place while attending Christmas Eve services at Trinity Church with the Morrises, forcing her to wear Sunday’s best. She looked at herself in the bureau mirror and sighed. She wore this same dress to every church service during the colder months. It would have been nice to wear something more fashionable and fun, but instead the party dress would hang in the closet for a future occasion. If it didn’t go out of fashion first. James claimed only one day would be different, but Christmas Eve also was invariably changed. Her look complete, Ida moved into the girls’ room to brush their hair and help them into their shoes. “What’s wrong with Daddy?” Beatrice said. You mean because he doesn’t want to celebrate Christmas the normal way this year? Ida thought, but then she heard James moan. “He has a toothache, darling. Let this be a lesson to always brush your teeth.” Ida followed the sound of the moaning to the bathroom. James was leaning over the lavatory, his face white and drool rolling down his chin. “I wish you would go to the dentist. That tooth needs to come out.” James glanced over his shoulder then back to the sink. “It’s staying where it is.” Ida sighed. “What color is the tooth? Never mind. I know without you telling me. It’s brown, perhaps even black. Your breath is atrocious, and I know you haven’t been sucking on those peppermint drops simply because it’s Christmas. Your body can’t heal a cavity and if it’s abscessed, you’ll become very ill.” There was no immediate response, and perhaps something she said had made a difference, but when he made eye , he said, “We’re going to be late for church.” Ida turned on her heel, shoes clicking on the floor as she left the bathroom as quickly as possible. She ushered the girls downstairs to put on their coats and

outerwear and waited for her husband. James always was impatient, but this seemed extreme. Why was he being this way? In the early days of their marriage, a decade ago, James worked six days, and Ida was often home alone, but they were young, blessed with time and energy, and life was free and exciting. They would discuss the future and how they were going to be different from the previous generation, but now they were both past 30, and instead of being different they had become the previous generation, following a pattern of routine, duty and complacency, and grumbling about the state of the world but doing nothing about it. It was depressing to know they had accomplished nothing. James probably already was middle age, but if Ida was lucky, she had inherited her grandmother’s longevity gene and could reasonably expect to live into the 1960s or ’70s, barring accident or serious illness. And if the Great War ended. It increasingly felt as if the war was going to burn forever and engulf them all. “All right. I’m ready. Let’s go,” James said as he entered the reception room. “I took two aspirin. I’ll be fine.” Ida smiled. “Those are German, you know. You might turn into a Kaiser lover.” “That’s not going to happen. I was born an imperialist, and I’ll die an imperialist. Come along, girls. It’s time to leave.” Ida frowned. Didn’t he understand she was joking? She twisted her lip. Now was not a good time to start an argument, but she knew she was right. She was always right. She shook her head. Her mother was coming out in her, but in this case, it was true. James needed a dentist, and he needed one back in November. What do you do when a grown man behaves like a child? Try to reason with him like one.

DEAR HETTIE, I would wish you a Happy Christmas and a wonderful New Year but things are not wonderful. If they were, I’d be wishing you good tidings in person instead of in this letter. Christmas was spent with James family this past year. His family is more strict and traditional than ours. We spent a lot of our time in silent reflection and in church. I missed Mother and Father terribly and they were only half way across town. We saw them for Boxing Day, and the girls were pleased to see their jovial grandparents. Yes, I know, jovial is a strange way to describe Mother and Father but compared to James’ family they are. Holidays are not the same without you and Freddie here. Things will never be the same, will they? Walter, Mabel and I are all married and you’re widowed, and Alice has a beau. It will never be like the old days and, Lord knows, Mother and Father aren’t getting any younger. Father is using his cane almost every day now and Mother looks haggard. Has anyone let you know about Mrs. Bartlette? She is a wreck of a woman with one son maimed, another dead and now one insane. Ever since Victor arrived home she has been inconsolable. Poor Teddy can do nothing to comfort her. She angers at him for not being able to provide her with grandchildren, knowing all the while he suffered from mumps as a child. I felt I should inform you about this even though I know there is nothing you can do about it. There are times I wonder why she and Mother are such good friends. They are so radically different. Mother wants to control everything and Mrs. Bartlette thinks nothing can be controlled, that we are all helpless and doomed. Can you imagine living like that? Well, this is all for now. I know you don’t have a lot of time to spare so I won’t keep you longer. I hope to hear from you soon. Your sister, Ida

1917

Solving One Problem Causes Another

Dear Ida, A Happy New Year to you because for you it is truly happy. You have your husband and children and you’re safe in Barrie near the rest of the family. Christmas here is as it has been for the last two years – finding things to occupy our time and enjoying care packages. I was unaware of Mrs. Bartlette’s condition and quite frankly it angers me. Why does she see fit to place blame on others? Her children cannot be blamed for what occurred to them. It is not Teddy’s fault he was ill as a child. It is not Gilbert’s fault the boiler exploded. It is not Geoffrey’s fault the Germans launched a gas attack. It is not Victor’s fault he is in emotional unbalance. It is not their fault. And they should not be put in the situation of defending what happened to them. Nor should she anger at things beyond her control, things she cannot change, things no one can change. I, too, wonder about the friendship between Mother and Mrs. Bartlette. Perhaps they were different as girls and young women. What must it have been like? They were born and raised during the birth of our nation, and how Canada has grown! Despite all the despicable things happening here, I truly believe we are doing our nation proud and that we will one day make Father proud. I hope that all is well back home and that 1917 shall be a better year than the one which ed. Yours, Hettie

IDA WAS RELIEVED JAMES recognized his toothache would not go away without medical intervention and that he needed her to come with him to the dentist’s office. It wasn’t so much a demand, or even a request, as an ission that he needed her there for moral . He would never have the courage to go without her. As she sat with him in the waiting room, her heart was racing as if she was the one about to undergo a medical procedure. One thought kept entering her mind: What if James reconsidered at the last moment? He was intently watching ersby and traffic on the road outside the office. She could sense he was planning an escape. She needed a pleasant distraction from her stubborn, whiny husband, and people watching provided exactly that. There were only two other patients in the waiting room. A boy around the age of nine was clenching his mother’s coat with one hand and his cheek with the other. He was whimpering, just like James, and his mother was whispering soothing words in his ear. Well, I’m not doing that for James, Ida thought. He doesn’t deserve soothing words after all the grief he gave me.

The other patient was an old man, leaning on the lady-in-attendance’s desk for . “My dentures are ill fitting,” he said. “I should have a proper fitting pair.” “You need to wait your turn,” the lady-in-attendance said. “They are ill fitting. I need to see the doctor.” “Yes, sir, I understand, but you must wait your turn.” “Huh? What are you saying?” the old man said, raising an ear trump to his left side. “Repeat yourself, lassie.” She stood and projected her voice like an actress on stage. “We’ll take you back when it’s your turn, sir.”

The office’s telephone rang, and Ida noticed how the lady-in-attendance answered the call with a smile just as she would if she were greeting a patient in person. A woman emerged from the back room followed by the dentist. “Thank you, doctor,” she said before leaving, the bell above the door tinkling as she exited the waiting room. James was next. Ida followed her husband to the exam room, clenching her gloves tightly with both hands, and stood off to the side while he sat in the dentist chair. His face was white, and she could not a time when she had ever seen him so pale or nervous. The dentist examined the tooth with an expression of curiosity. “Yes, that tooth needs to come out, Mr. Morris. You have a pretty severe infection there. I’ll try to suction out the puss as best I can.” Ida suppressed a smile. Every fiber of her being wanted to point accusatively at James and scream, “See I was right, but it took you weeks to listen.” She suppressed the urge, however, as James broke out into a cold sweat, and she knew the timing was bad for berating him. She simply would this next time he didn’t want to do what was not in his best interest. Tears formed in James’ eyes when he saw the Novocain needle, and she almost felt sorry for him. Almost. With morbid fascination, Ida watched as the dentist inserted what looked like pliers into James’ mouth and extracted the tooth, depositing it in a small, metal bowl. The tooth was black, completely rotten down to the root, and Ida wondered how James survived for as long as he did. James moaned, and Ida furrowed her brow, knowing the local anesthesia could not possibly have worn off. “I will give you a prescription for medication,” the dentist said. “I also will provide you with full instructions, but one thing is critically important: You must only use a small amount. This pain medication is habit forming if misused. Do you understand?” James nodded, and the dentist left to retrieve the prescription.

“You should feel relief,” Ida said “Not in the least. It was horrible, excruciating.” Ida sighed. Try having three children and then tell me about pain. The dentist returned with a bottle and print instructions. “,” he said as he handed James the bottle, “only use a small amount.”

WHEN THEY RETURNED home, Ida was grateful no one else was there to witness the pathetic creature that was James Morris. The girls should never see their father in such a state, and what would the housekeeper think of her employer acting like a baby? James was not the type of person to do things to draw attention to himself or illicit pity, yet here he was lying on the sofa, whining and moaning. She expected such behavior from sniveling Gardner but not James. James was sensible and dependable. She shook her head. “What are you shaking your head at?” James said. “All this abominable noise making.” “I’m in pain, Ida.” “Oh, I know. But it should have begun to lessen by now.” “Well, it hasn’t.” “Then something is wrong. You should feel better.” James wiggled his hands on either side of his head. “Will you please stop speaking?” “Fine.” Ida stood. “I’ll go fill an ice bag.” Ida ed the little boy in the dentist’s waiting room. He’s probably handling his dental procedure better than the grown man on my sitting room sofa. “No, wait,” James said, his hands now beckoning for Ida, “there’s my medication. Go get it. I left it upstairs.” “Very well.” Ida climbed the stairs to the bathroom and opened the medicine cabinet with no idea where he left his medication. She hunted through toothbrushes and tooth

powder, ointments, cough syrup, shampoo paste, eye water, medicated soaps and a rubber syringe before finally finding the prescription bottle. Why in the world did he hide it behind everything else? The label read COCAINE. She pursed her lips. The dentist said the drug was habit forming if misused. He urged James to use a small amount – she clearly ed him saying it twice – but nowhere on the label did it explain how small a “small amount” needed to be. When she returned downstairs, she handed James the bottle and a cosmetic brush. “What am I supposed to do with this?” he said, his tone accusatory. “You’re supposed to apply the powder to your gum.” James took the brush and contorted his lip. “I’m supposed to put this in my mouth?” “Yes, in the hole in your gum where the tooth had been.” “But it’s horsehair.” “And it will be covered in the powder.” Ida inhaled sharply. “James, please. I’d expect this behavior from Gardner Hill but not from you.” He briefly sat motionless before lunging forward and grabbing the bottle and brush from her. He then bounded over to the mantle. Using the mirror as his guide, he medicated his gum and calmed almost immediately. Ida smiled. Soon James would be back to normal.

THE SOUND OF CRYING startled Ida from a deep sleep. At first, it felt like a dream, but then she heard it again. Mothers’ intuition told her it was one of the girls, but when she rolled over to get out of bed, she realized it was James. “What is it?” she said. He shuttered. “What do you think is wrong?” “The tooth again?” “Yes, the tooth. What else could I be upset about? The queen’s manicure?” “I swear lately you’ve been practicing for a dramatic stage role. You’re overacting a bit too much, don’t you think?” James slammed his fist into the mattress. “I shouldn’t have listened to you. I was better off before.” “Better off with an infected, rotted tooth that would destroy your health? Not that it matters. According to you, you’re in pain either way.” During the night, James had pulled the blankets onto his side of the bed, and she pulled them back to her side. “I wish I were dead,” he said. “I’m getting so tired of these dramatics. I begged you for weeks to see the dentist. Had it been pulled earlier, you’d feel better by now. Instead you’re fighting an infection.” “You have no pity.” Ida’s cheeks were burning. “I have no pity? I have no pity? You have too much self pity.” “You have a lot of nerve, woman.” “Right now, I’m the only one in this room with any sense.”

James stood. “I’m going to take my medication.” “Good for you. Should I applaud you?” He made a noise in his throat before leaving the room. Ida breathed a sigh of relief and sunk into her pillow. Before I was married, I was told there would challenges. But I never imagined this. Ida rolled onto her side and held up her hand. She could vaguely see her wedding ring in the moonlight that drifted in through the curtains. I did make a vow for “for better or worse, in sickness and health.” Maybe I was simply spoiled with happiness before this.

A CURIOUS PATTERN BEGAN to form that did not escape Ida’s attention. James’ medication would relieve his pain, but the pain always mysteriously returned accompanied by irritability and fidgeting. Weeks of recovery had ed, and his fever was long gone. She doubted the pain could linger this long, but kept her opinion to herself. James held his spoon between his fore and middle fingers and clanged it against his cereal bowl. Clink, clink, clink.

Ida, who sat on the other side of the breakfast table, purposefully ignored him and kept her attention on the girls as they practiced their spelling words. Thankfully, they also ignored him, an unfortunate sign that they had grown accustomed to their father’s antics. James briefly paused before resuming. Clink, clink, clink. Cordelia, the youngest, went first. “Content. C-O-N-T-E-N-T.” Ida nodded in approval. “Do you know the definition?” “Yes, Mummy. It means very happy.” Beatrice went next. “Saskatchewan. S-A-S-K-A-T-C-H-E-W-A-N.” “And can you find Saskatchewan on a map?” “Of course. Saskatchewan is bordered to the east by Manitoba and to the west by Alberta, to the North by the Northwest Territories and to the south by Montana and North Dakota in the United States. It’s capital is Regina. Saskatchewan is a prairie province. Its chief product is grain.” Ida beamed. “Very good.” Agnes said, “Detriment. D-E-T-R-I-M-E-N-T.” Ida gave her approval. “Do you know the definition?”

“Something that causes damage or loss.” James threw his spoon across the table. “Must we do this every morning? Not every moment of every day must be devoted to education. And all before I take my medicine.” Ida raised an eyebrow. “How often are you taking your medication now?” “I’m trying to limit it to twice a day, when the pain is the worst.” “Indeed. Oh, goodness me, I just thought of something I must add to a letter I’m writing Hettie before it goes to post. If you excuse me, I’ll be back momentarily.” Ida exited the breakfast room and ed through the two adjacent rooms at a relaxed pace. Once she reached the corridor, however, she ran up the stairs and into the bathroom, throwing open the medicine cabinet. The cocaine bottle was gone. Her heart thumbed against her chest wall. Where had James put it? Their bedroom? Yes, there were plenty of hiding places there! With nimble yet quick fingers, she searched the dressing table followed by the dresser, uncovering the bottle tucked inside one of James’ socks. She opened it, expecting to find it at least half full, if not more, but only about a quarter remained. Returning to the bathroom, she flushed the bottle’s contents down the toilet. “The toilet is an odd place to keep a letter,” James said, appearing in the threshold. She placed the bottle between her body and her skirt’s waistband and hoped he wouldn’t notice. “Don’t think for a moment I don’t know what you’re actually doing. But you forget. My brother is a druggist. I can always get more.” “I’ve been thinking, James, perhaps you should go back to the dentist. Something must be wrong if you are still in pain. He could help.” “Didn’t you hear me? My brother is a druggist. I have an unlimited supply. It

doesn’t matter what the dentist says or what you say. I will have my medication.” He bounded across the room in two steps and took the bottle from her waist. “Don’t mess with me, Ida. You will not like the consequences.” He exited, leaving Ida motionless other than her rapid blinking.

–ENTRY IN IDA’S DIARY– February 20, 1917 Is there such a thing as beyond embarrassment? If so, I am beyond embarrassed. James has become a cocaine fiend, and I cannot tell anyone for fear of judgement. It happened so quickly. I have heard of this happening to some people who drink, that they are more likely to form the habit than others. In every case, it is attributed to some defect in that person’s character that makes them susceptible to it. I have known James for more than a decade. Until this year, I have seen nothing to indicate he has a defective character, yet I cannot find a reasonable explanation either. I fear I will be forced to live with the shame for the foreseeable future. Eventually, it will harm James’ performance at work and he will be sacked. Eventually, he will become more erratic, perhaps violent. At that point, the authorities will not help because we are James’ wife and children, and there is nothing that legally can be done. Then I stay and take it or flee to my parents’ and cause them shame by association. The best hope is that he recognizes he needs help and seeks it from a doctor. If not, the second best scenario is that he dies in a ditch somewhere far from here.

Hettie’s Lover

Dear Mother, I hope this letter finds you well. Mother, I have a confession, of sorts, to make. I have been procrastinating about this for a variety of reasons. It is not that I do not want to be honest with you. It is simply that, at times, it is difficult to be honest. So I will come out and say it. For the past year, I have been corresponding with a colonel whom I met during a dinner at battalion headquarters. Actually, that is a lie. I met him twice prior, both times when he was at the casualty clearing station. Not as a patient, mind you, but as an able-bodied officer. In any case, he did not begin writing me until after the dinner. He initiated it, and I did not encourage it. I did make it perfectly clear I am a widow and in mourning. He said he understood and wanted nothing more than a pen friend. His name is Alfred Taylor, and he is from Niagara-on-the-Lake. He is older than I, but that does not seem to matter. The extraordinary circumstances we are under have caused feelings to develop. We did not expect them or encourage them, but they surfaced nonetheless. So there it is. You know everything that is fit to tell. Your daughter. Hettie

THE DOORBELL RANG MULTIPLE times in succession, and Mabel ran down the corridor to the nursery, a headache forming behind her temple. The bell had awakened newborn William whose screams, in turn, roused a now shrieking Charles. As Mabel tried in vain to comfort her boys, her housekeeper entered, composure completely unfazed by the commotion. “Ma’am, your mother is downstairs waiting.” Mother? What was she doing here? Lucretia was always punctual with her appointments. Did they set up a time to meet and Mabel forgot? Seeing as she was surviving on very little sleep nowadays, it was entirely possible. She glanced from her children to the doorway and back again, not knowing which blood relation should have her attention. “I’ll calm the children, ma’am. You go calm your mother.” “Thank you, Mrs. Watson.” Calm my mother? Why do I need to calm my mother? Mabel descended the stairs, wondering if someone in the family had died. Surely she wouldn’t find out this way, would she? Lucretia was pacing in the sitting room, face flushed and still wearing her coat. The moment she saw Mabel, she waved a piece of paper in the air. “What do you know about this?” Mabel went cold. “About what?” “Your sister in a long term correspondence with a strange man.” “Oh.” Mabel sighed, grateful no one had died. “Yes, I have heard.” “What do you know about him?” “I know his name and his hometown. He’s 47 and has been in the permanent force since the South African War.”

“Oh, Lord, help us. Your father will have a coronary yet, and no family there to provide Hettie with moral guidance except Freddie. Freddie!” Mabel’s eyes grew wide. “What’s wrong with that? He is the younger sibling, but I’m certain none of the other nurses even have relatives in Europe.” “Age is not the problem. Your sister’s moral character is at stake.” “I don’t understand.” “Freddie. Freddie!” Lucretia threw her arms up in the air. “Oh, never mind. I can see you are ignorant to your brother’s exploits. I—” “Mother, please take off your coat. You seem dreadfully overheated.” After much persuading, Lucretia removed her hat, coat and muff. Mabel urged her to sit then fetched a glass of water. She waited until Lucretia’s face returned to its natural shade before sitting beside her and taking her hand. “Now. What has my brother done?” “What hasn’t your brother done? You really have no idea?” Mabel shook her head. “Well,” Lucretia said, “let’s just say he’s been less than honorable, and that’s all I’m going to say about that.” Less than honorable? Language like that made Mabel feel as if she was in a Jane Austen novel. “Oh.” “But it is your sister I am worried about. Women’s reputations are not so easily repaired and their indiscretions not so easily forgiven.” “I have no reason to believe there has been any indiscretion, Mother. She and the colonel have laid eyes on each other three, maybe four, times.” “Then this correspondence doesn’t makes any sense. No sense. Has your sister taken leave of her senses?” “Yes, Mother, no sense. I don’t understand it either. I could never have a

strange man as a pen friend.” “I have no doubt, my child. I can’t picture you ever doing anything disappointing.” Mabel swallowed, unsure if that was an insult or a compliment. “What am I going to do with your sister, Mabel? She’s going to give your father a coronary.” “I think you’re going to give yourself a coronary, Mother. Why do you allow Hettie and Freddie to bother you so?” Lucretia fell back in her chair and inhaled. “I don’t know. I worry about their futures and what will become of them.” Mabel squeezed her mother’s hand. “Right now, we just need to get them both home alive. Does it matter how they make their lives more bearable?” “It does matter because reputations can be harmed even beyond death.” Mabel pinched her nose and suppressed her exasperation. “Mother, what do you aim to do?” Lucretia pulled her hand from Mabel’s, jumped up and began gathering her things. “I will write a strongly worded letter. What else can I do?” Mabel stood as well. “Mother, no. Strongly worded letters do no good with Hettie. She disregards them. She stops writing entirely for days, even weeks. Please.” “And what would you suggest I do? What would you do?” “Take a diplomatic approach, a carefully worded letter.” Lucretia buttoned her coat. “That is something I am not skilled in.” “Mother.” Lucretia walked toward the doorway. “Give the boys a kiss from me. I have a letter to write.”

DEAR HETTIE, Your recent letter distresses me. While I value your honesty, I must ask if you have gone mad. You followed Geoffrey to Europe, manipulated the rules to get there, and things have not turned out in the manner you planned. I, by no means, expect you to stay a widow forever. You are too young to devote yourself to such a state. But you simply cannot do as you wish whenever you wish. You disgrace Geoffrey’s memory with your carrying on. You do not know this man. There was no proper introduction. You know nothing about his family’s character or his for that matter. He might be nothing like he represents. Why waste your time and precious energy on a man you have no future with? What will you achieve? Nothing but hurt feelings and a disgraced late husband. Take heed of what I have said. Think carefully and clearly with your head, not other organs (and I know you know what I am referring), and do what is wise, sensible and puts Geoffrey’s memory first. And what do you mean “everything that’s fit to tell”? Your mother

The Pre-Wedding Tea

“T hat dish is out of place. Move it, please. The dish is out of place. Alice, move the dish!” Alice glowered at Lucretia. “Maeve has been here before, Mother. She won’t care in the slightest if a plate is a little more to the left than it should be.” Lucretia’s nostrils flared. Alice had completely misunderstood her ire, not grasping it was because she disobeyed when asked to perform a simple task. “Move the dish, Alice. This is not an ordinary tea.” Adelaide, meanwhile, was very obedient, arranging objects without question on the sideboard per her mother’s instruction. “I don’t have to put flowers in my hair, do I?” “It would be an improvement, dear.” Adelaide turned, her expression resembling that of someone who had recently tasted something sour. “I’m not a flower sort of girl.” “Are you even a girl?” Alice tossed back her head. “You have no sense of fashion. Maeve dresses better than you do and she hasn’t a dime to her name. I’ve seen chimpanzees at the circus who—” Lucretia cleared her throat. “Alice, I don’t want any talk like that when Maeve is here.” Mrs. Baxter, the Steward’s new housekeeper, entered the breakfast room and curtsied. “Your eldest daughters have arrived, marm. They are waiting in the parlor.” Moments later, Ida and Mabel ambled in dressed much finer than they normally would be on a Saturday afternoon. Alice shot Adelaide a look that seemed to say, “See, they put an effort into their appearance.” Mabel set her Brownie on the sideboard, moving aside the objects Adelaide had so carefully arranged in the process. “My, the table looks lovely. Where have Tommy and Father gone?”

“Walter drove them to Toronto to go to the art gallery or something such thing,” Lucretia said. “Adelaide, go change your dress and do your hair.” Adelaide did not move, preferring to listen to the conversation. “That’s a long drive. They’ll be gone all day. I hope they don’t encounter any mud. Is Dorothea coming?” “She intends to but not for long. Oliver has an ear infection.” Mabel and Ida nodded knowingly. Unable to contain her glee, Alice smirked. “Hettie has a boyfriend.” “Hettie has a boyfriend?” Ida said, confusion filling her face. Adelaide stepped forward, about to add something to the conversation, when Lucretia intervened. “Adelaide, go get ready!” Adelaide scowled at her mother and stomped out of the room. Unfazed, Ida said, “What do you mean Hettie has a boyfriend?” Lucretia sighed, not wanting to discuss the topic and deferring to Mabel who explained the entire situation with more calmness than a thousand versions of Lucretia ever could. “Isn’t it juicy?” Alice said. “We have a wayward sister.” Ida shook her head. “Our sister isn’t wayward. Is she?” “No,” Mabel said, also shaking her head. “Oh, no. A bit bored, perhaps, with nothing but the casualty clearing station to occupy her time, but no. Alice, why would you say ‘wayward’?” “Well, it isn’t a normal courtship, now is it? Who knows what she could be up to without supervision? Mother’s supervision in particular.” Lucretia cleared her throat. “We’ve had more than enough of this conversation. Maeve will be here at any moment, and I don’t want to hear any more talk of this. Do you understand? No more.”

The women took their places at the table and fell silent.

“I’M VERY GRATEFUL TO all of you for doing this for me,” Maeve said, cheeks flushed with color and with a smile that never faded. “I’m so looking forward to having sisters. When I was a child, I always dreamed of having sisters.” Lucretia smiled, but her chest tightened. Among the infants Amelia lost were several girls. Apparently, Maeve was unaware she was the strongest of the lot. “There is no reason to thank us, child,” Lucretia said. “We’re happy to do it.” “I only wish Hettie could be here.” A smirk crossed Alice’s face. “Curious thing about Henrietta—” “Our nation is at war.” Lucretia said, interrupting. “That doesn’t mean this family needs to be.” Maeve looked at Alice. “What’s curious?” Alice squirmed. More than anything, she wanted to tell Maeve about Hettie’s lover, partially out of amusement so it would start another debate, and partially because the news would not stay secret for long. Maeve and Mrs. Bartlette would be the people hurt most when the news became public. Why not get it out in the open and deal with it now? Lucretia was clear, however, that this topic was off-limits. “She – if she were here, that is – would have to pry herself away from her duties to us.” “Yes, Hettie does enjoy her work,” Maeve said. Amazing, Alice listened to me for once, Lucretia thought and steered the conversation toward the wedding, which was the following week, and one by one they discussed each item on her checklist. Temporarily at least, all the girls’ thoughts would be focused on a unified goal.

“Mama will spend the entire day embarrassed, I’m afraid,” Maeve said, after the final details were solidified. “Teddy paid for everything.” “I don’t suppose anyone will notice yet alone care,” Mabel said. “Oh, people notice and do care,” Alice said, eyes mischievous. “Alice!” Lucretia said. “We had a conversation about behavior this afternoon.” Maeve smiled. “It’s all right, Mrs. Steward. Mama doesn’t want anyone to think I’m marrying for money, only for love.” Everyone knew women were judged based on the men they married. Tommy will not be judged harshly for his choice. In fact, he probably never would be judged at all. Hettie, meanwhile, had married down. Everyone was keenly aware of this, although no one said it aloud, if for no other reason than she had married Amelia Bartlette’s son. The sisters said nothing, but Lucretia was brave enough to respond. “No one thinks you’re marrying for money. That much is clear. You will be a welcome member of this family. Just as Hettie was welcome in yours.” “We’ve always been family,” Maeve said, beaming. “The marriages simply made it official.” “Yes, that is quite true.” Lucretia took a sip of water. Hettie and Geoffrey were doomed from the start, poor things. I pray a much better future awaits Tommy and Maeve.

THE MORNING OF THE wedding, Tommy sprang out of bed before the alarm clock sounded, dressed quickly and went downstairs for breakfast. In every mirror he ed, he ired himself and tried to imagine Maeve getting ready in front of her bedroom vanity. This will be my last breakfast in my parents’ house, he thought with a smile. He had completed the purchase of a small cottage house off Cordington Street only a few days ago, saving him and Maeve the discomfort of having to live with relatives after the wedding. The cottage was a short drive from his parents’ home, a quick stroll from the bay, and was humble by the Stewards’ standards but was perfect for a couple starting their life together. Moreover, its large windows, breezy yard, coal furnace and gingerbread trim would make it a palace in Maeve’s eyes. She’ll be so pleased to see it. After the meal, the girls and Lucretia went upstairs to get ready, and Tommy was left alone with Benjamin. “We have only a few hours left together,” Benjamin said. “I want to speak to you.” “We discussed all this last night, Father,” Tommy said, fidgeting from excitement for the day ahead and from the memory of their awkward birds and bees talk. “No, a different matter entirely. Are you certain you want to get married?” Tommy straightened his back, all elation gone. “Of course, Father.” “Be certain you have the truest intentions and that this has nothing to do with the opportunity to share a home with Maeve.” “That’s ridiculous.” Benjamin fixed his gaze on Tommy. “Well, considering the circumstances.” “What circumstances?” “You’re only 20. Your feelings may not be mature.”

“I’ll be 21 in a few months. There have been of this family who were younger when they married.” “Of course. But their circumstances were different. I know you wish to rescue Maeve from her mother and that house on H Block.” “I do wish to save Maeve from her surroundings, but I also genuinely love her, and I see no reason to postpone marriage for what others feel is a more convenient time.” Benjamin broke his gaze and waved his hand. “You may go.” Tommy stood to leave, but it was now or never if he was going to ask the question that had been nagging his mind for months. “Father, why do you disapprove of my marriage to Maeve so much?” Benjamin folded his arms. “Not disapproval so much as caution. Between Hettie and Geoffrey—” “Between Hettie and Geoffrey there was nothing but love.” “Then you do not know your sister as well as you think. Love only s for so much in a marriage. Hettie loved being a nurse just as much as she loved Geoffrey, probably more. It overcame her ability to be a dutiful wife. It made her run to Uncle Steven to break the rules.” “What do you mean?” “Married women are not permitted in the nursing service, Thomas.” “Well, then—” “Must I paint you a picture? Hettie went to your uncle to request a favor, and he found some people in Ottawa who were willing to break the rules. She made a point to do this. She knew she didn’t qualify for the nursing service when Geoffrey asked her to , but she did not care. Being able to go back to work meant more than being lawful.” Tommy was motionless. “History will not be repeating itself. I don’t love anything more than Maeve, and that includes my job.”

He stalked away, determined not to let anything or anyone ruin the most important day of his life.

BY NOON IT WAS ALL over. The bride and groom’s families and friends gathered at the church hall for what was being referred to as a wedding luncheon but in reality was nothing more than cake, punch and some finger sandwiches. While this was a reflection of the Bartlette family’s budget more than anything else, it was disguised as wartime thrift. The Bartlette side of the hall had only three tables. Lucretia examined the occupants, disregarding Benjamin’s opinion. He believed Tommy was marrying Maeve to rescue her, having said so multiple times since the engagement, but Lucretia didn’t care. Maeve needed rescued from that dour lot. Amelia was sitting next to her brother, a stoic man who always looked as if today was the worst day of his life. Walter, the best man, stood and clanged his spoon against his glass. When he had everyone’s attention, he raised his glass and smiled. “I when Tommy was born. Father took Freddie and me to see our first automobile. When we returned, Tommy was there. The girls were oohing and aahing over him. I was eight. I was simply grateful for another brother.” The crowd chuckled, and Tommy flushed red. Walter continued, “Now Maeve, she was always such a pleasant child. And she is a most pleasant adult. I can see why Tommy loves her. She’ll be a welcome addition to our family. The couple, my kid brother and his ray of sunshine, deserves all the happiness in the world.” Walter raised his glass higher, and everyone else made a toast. Teddy gave the bride away instead of Gilbert, and he stood next. Gilbert apparently had turned down the honor, although neither Maeve nor Amelia was able to provide Lucretia with an adequate explanation. “I’m Theodore Bartlette, the bride’s brother. She is my only sister. And while I couldn’t give her much, I wanted to make her wedding day as special as possible. ...” Lucretia ed Maeve saying Amelia did not want anyone to know Teddy paid for the wedding, and as Teddy continued his speech, she glanced repeatedly

at Amelia. Not four sentences into the speech, Amelia covered her mouth as if she were ill. Lucretia blamed it on dramatics at first but, on second thought, perhaps Amelia actually was ill at the implication she couldn’t provide for her own daughter. Teddy moved on to another topic; no one probably noticed or cared about the reference. No one, that is, except Amelia. As Lucretia continued to observe the bride’s side of the hall, she noticed the majority of the bride’s guests – the Grays, Amelia’s relatives – looked annoyed. Yes, annoyed, Lucretia decided, was the best word to describe them. That was exactly how they looked. Lucretia leaned forward for a better view. As she did, Amelia rose, the eyes of her family upon her. Amelia stomped past her son, and Teddy stumbled briefly over his words before recovering and finishing his toast. Lucretia waited until Teddy sat and the guests’ cheers subsided before searching for her friend. She found Amelia outside the hall, her face buried in her hands. “Amelia, what on earth is the matter?” Lucretia said as if she had no idea. “Are you ill?” Amelia was silent for a moment. “No. I am not ill.” “Then what is wrong?” Amelia lifted her head, cheeks stained with tears. “My children will be the death of me yet.” “Oh, Amelia, no one expected you could pay for any of this.” “I’m the bride’s mother.” Amelia began to sob. “You’re a widow with numerous problems. Teddy is a carpenter,” Lucretia paused, “like Jesus.” “Stop speaking, Lucretia. You make things worse with your sarcasm and your perceived wit.” “And you let everyone else’s expectations cloud your judgement.”

Amelia glared at Lucretia through a pool of tears but did not retort. “You know I’m right,” Lucretia said. “Don’t let your own feelings overshadow Maeve on her day. I’ll be inside.” When Lucretia returned to Benjamin’s side, he knew exactly where she had been. “What is Amelia up to now?” “The world is coming to an end, per usual. Why even discuss it? She owes Teddy an apology, that is certain.” “Amelia has never apologized to anyone for anything. She is the wounded, the bereaved, the misguided.” Lucretia snorted. “She is my bosom friend, and I cannot say why anymore, aside from our long past.”

DEAREST HETTIE, How have you been? I have not heard from you since your last letter. I hope that the situation with Mother was able to come to a satisfactory conclusion and that it is no longer troubling you. I know it is easier said than done to ignore Mother’s comments but being away from her I should think it would make it easier for you. Just that whatever it is, she’ll no longer be angry by the time you come home. Oh, Hettie, no matter how much time has ed since the war began, I still think of you often. I wonder what you’re doing and where you are. I have no way of knowing and it pains my heart. You have missed so much, and again you missed something important. This past weekend Tommy and Maeve were married. Compared to our weddings it was very simple. This was partially because of the war and partially because of the lack of funds. Mrs. Bartlette could only afford the dress. Teddy says he paid for everything else, and Mrs. Bartlette is upset he shared this information. Mother did host a bridal shower in which she invited all of Maeve’s friends and all us Steward sisters. Some of Mrs. Bartlette’s nieces were there as well. The ceremony was late morning. I had seen both Maeve and Tommy the night before, separately, and they were both over the moon with excitement. They reminded me of you and Geoffrey, having been in love since childhood; there never having been anyone else. Maeve was blushing, giving her face a lovely glow. Tommy, meanwhile, I saw while at our parents’. He was pleased to be starting his life with Maeve. And can you believe this will make Mother and Father’s sixth child to leave home? Maeve’s dress, like the wedding, was simple but fit her well and was nonetheless beautiful. The bride most certainly made the dress, not the other way around. Tommy was all smiles. He looked so handsome waiting for her at the altar. The reception was nothing more than cake and punch and finger sandwiches. I took a few photographs of the day with my Brownie, and I promise to send you one when they are back from the developer. I sent for them to be developed straightaway, and I shudder to think what Gardner will say when he learns I

spent $3 for developing and that doesn’t even include the finishing fee, but I wanted to take as many snapshots as possible so I could send some to you and put the rest in an album. It was an enjoyable day. I am so happy Maeve is officially our sister – although she had been yours for years – but I’m sorry you had to miss it. As always I miss you, With love, Mabel

Rose’s Second Son

“W here have you been ?” Benjamin said, not once taking his eyes off his newspaper, as his wife stepped out onto the patio. “I’ve been visiting Mother,” Lucretia said, slowly removing her gloves. “A curious thing has happened. Oscar’s had an accident.” “What sort of accident?” “I don’t know. Apparently, he cut his hand while at the farm.” Benjamin glanced up. “Your brother needs another hobby. Why does he enjoy manual labor so much?” “It was our grandparents’ farm, so there’s some sentimentality there, I suppose.” “He’s nearly my age. He needs to slow down.” Three years older than Lucretia, Oscar was Rose’s second child. He lived on the outskirts of Barrie away from, as he called it, the corrupting influences of modern technology. He enjoyed a simpler life, or perhaps it was a romanticized view of the past. Rose had never described her life on the farm as simple or glorious. She had been happy to leave it. Her parents, however, had lived off the land until they became too old to do so, the village encroaching closer and closer to their property. Lucretia shook her head. “Mother says he’s stubborn.” “Like every Goodwin I’ve ever met.” “Oh, my, yes, you are funny.” Benjamin continued to read, and Lucretia went back indoors.

SIXTEEN DAYS LATER, Lucretia had forgotten all about Oscar’s injury when she asked Ida to her on a social call. When they arrived at the cottage, Oscar’s wife Matilda answered the door with a pensive expression. “I’m sorry but you cannot go inside,” she said in a hushed tone as she ushered them to the wicker porch furniture. “Oscar is under the weather, and I don’t know if he’s contagious.”

“Oh,” Lucretia said, glancing at Ida, “how horrible to be ill when the weather is as nice as it is.” “Yes.” Ida shook her head and thought of Hettie. “Has Uncle Oscar been vaccinated?” Matilda went pale. “Why would he be vaccinated?” “Because it helps stop the spread of diseases. Hettie says that if it weren’t for the typhoid vaccination, there would be many more deaths among the Canada Corps.” Lucretia held up her hand, sensing vaccines were too modern a concept for Oscar and his family. “How long has he been ill?” “A week or so.” “What symptoms does he have?” Matilda’s hands shook slightly in her lap. “He has a fever, and he’s sweating profusely. I suppose the sweating could be the weather, but nothing will bring down the fever. And he’s in the worst mood.” Just as Matilda uttered the word “mood,” a bell inside the house rang. There was no telephone in the house or any servants to call, so the source of the sound was mysterious. Matilda, however, immediately excused herself. Ida leaned toward Lucretia. “Uncle Oscar needs a doctor.” “A diagnosis does not mean there is a treatment. If he has a fever, his body is doing what it needs to do.” “Mother, a fever should not last a week.” “The decision to call a doctor is up to Uncle Oscar and Aunt Matilda.” “Hettie would talk sense into them.”

“Enough.” Footsteps could be heard inside the house and, a moment later, Matilda opened the front door a crack. “I’m sorry,” she said. “As I said, Oscar is ill. Perhaps come back again next week.” Matilda shut the door before they could respond. “Mother, something seriously wrong is happening,” Ida said as she and Lucretia began their journey home. “I can feel it. He needs a doctor.” “I’ve told you, Ida. That decision is theirs.” “Hettie would talk some sense into them.” Lucretia’s nostrils flared. “I’ve heard enough. Your sister is not here. Moreover, she is not here because of a decision she made. Let your aunt and uncle make theirs.” Ida sighed. Why must the older generation be so stubborn?

–ENTRY IN IDA’S DIARY– August 11, 1917 Uncle Oscar has had a number of bizarre symptoms and a fever for two weeks. Finally, Aunt Matilda called the doctor, and Oscar was diagnosed with tetanus, acquired as a result of his cut hand. Mother shared this information with us at Sunday dinner. I asked if he was going to be given the antitoxin, but Mother said the doctor had informed Matilda that it was too late for that. I was the only one giving Mother my full attention. Gardner and Alice had ceased paying attention altogether while James looked impatient. Tommy and Maeve were whispering, and everyone kept looking back and forth at one another. Mother told me she wished Hettie were here to share her medical knowledge, and I agreed that she would have recognized the symptoms early enough to get Uncle Oscar the antitoxin. When Father questioned her on what she said, she tried to change the subject to how he was going to talk with the boys about the conscription crisis. I asked if Uncle Oscar is contagious and if he can receive visitors, but Adelaide asked the best question of all. She said, “Why is it called lockjaw?” Mother said it is because his jaw will cease to work and when it becomes inoperable, and he will no longer be able to eat. The room fell into silence, and when Mrs. Baxter brought in the dessert, no one wanted it.

IN THE ADJACENT SITTING room, voices discussing Oscar and lockjaw drifted through the thin walls. Only Benjamin, Walter and Tommy remained in the dining room. Benjamin was pacing, uncertain if, considering his brother-inlaw’s recent diagnosis, he should say what he had planned. But if not now when? The war did not wait for family emergencies. Finally, he stopped and stood over his sons. “I know you’re worried about your Uncle Oscar, but the Military Service Act becomes law this month, and we need to discuss it.” Walter and Tommy glanced at each other. James and Gardner had been sent with the women and children out of the room after dinner. Apparently Benjamin did not think this conversation concerned them. Benjamin continued, “The act allows for exceptions. I want you both to become exempt. I do not want another son involved in this war.” Again, the brothers glanced at one another. Tommy said nothing; he already was considering an exemption, although he was aware pacifists often were mocked. Walter, meanwhile, was in less danger of conscription because Gregsen’s Motorcars, Trucks and Trolleys would close without him. Surely an exemption would be an easy thing to do to please Benjamin. Walter swallowed and briefly bit his lip. “I would gladly do so, Father, but so long as Freddie is serving I cannot exempt myself. It wouldn’t be fair to him to save myself while he didn’t think twice about putting himself in danger.” Benjamin narrowed his eyes. “You make him sound so selfless. He did it for Hettie. They’re as attached as twins. There was no love of country involved in it.” “Freddie loves this country, I’m certain of it.” “Freddie is a conscientious objector,” Tommy said. “He’s serving in the medical corps for that reason. It has nothing to do with Hettie.” Benjamin felt faint and sat. “How do you know that?”

Tommy shrugged. “I thought everyone knew that.” Walter nodded. “I knew almost immediately when he told me he had enlisted.” Benjamin blinked, unable to comprehend. After a moment, he and Walter turned their attention to Tommy. The moment of truth had arrived, and Walter’s glare seemed more piercing than Benjamin’s. Tommy felt hot. “I won’t accept an exemption either ... for the same reason,” Tommy said, hearing the words coming out of his mouth as if they were coming from someone else’s. Walter sat back as if he had been pushed. “I didn’t expect that out of you, little brother. You were gallant.” I didn’t expect it either, Tommy thought. “We both know you’re the better man. You and Freddie.” “I wouldn’t say that,” Walter said, although his expression betrayed his pleasure. Benjamin cleared his throat. “I cannot believe my sons are agreeing with conscription.” “We do not agree, Father,” Walter said. “We care for Freddie more—” “Than obedience to your father?” “Than petty political squabbles. Clearly, if we wanted to serve in the army, we would already be doing so. I am not a coward nor am I a fool. I will not be led like livestock to slaughter.” “At least on that much we are agreed.” The three men sat in silence unsure how to proceed. In the sitting room, the voices continued their conversation, and someone was crying. “We will discuss this at a later time,” Benjamin said. “This discussion is not finished, but your uncle might very well be.”

OSCAR AND MATILDA’S six children and multiple grandchildren were crowded into the tiny country home. Oscar was upstairs, drooling, unable to open his jaw more than an inch, and barely recognizable. The muscles in his body spasmed, especially those in his face. As if that wasn’t horrendous enough, he had lost all control of his bowels and bladder, and the sickroom reeked of feces and urine. Lucretia’s hand was gently resting on her sister-in-law’s wrist as she sat beside Matilda, her concern not for her brother but for Rose. Under no circumstances must Mother see Oscar, Lucretia thought as she pulled herself away and went to the window. A doctor was expected at any moment to do his daily health check, but instead of the doctor coming up the walkway, it was Rose escorted by Frank, her eldest child. “Mother is here,” Lucretia said, her heart racing. “Were you expecting her?” “Yes,” Matilda said. “I thought she should be here.” Doesn’t Matilda have enough brains in her head to know Mother will expect to see her son? “Excuse me.” Lucretia took off for the front door, cursing for the first time in her life that women couldn’t wear tros, and nearly tripped when she forgot there was a step down to the front porch. “Goodness, Lucretia, what is the rush?” Rose said. “Mother,” Lucretia forced a smile, “a pleasure to see you. I’m seeking Frank at the moment.” Lucretia pulled her sibling aside and was relieved when Matilda appeared on the porch a moment later to greet Rose. “Frank, you mustn’t let Mother upstairs.” He shook his head. “What are you going on about, Lucretia? That is our only

reason for coming here. Mother wants to visit Oscar.” “You cannot let her see him if you want her to live to see tomorrow morning. The shock of it will kill her.” “Kill her?” He laughed. “I am not exaggerating. The state he is in you would not wish on your worst enemy. Satan himself couldn’t punish people as harshly.” “Lucretia, Mother will do as she wishes.” “Frank, I’m begging you.” From the corner of her eye, Lucretia saw the doctor striding toward the house. She sighed. At least he will keep Mother downstairs for a while.

PEOPLE MOVED NERVOUSLY about the house. So many people were crowded in, they couldn’t all be contained in the parlor. Matilda was attempting to knit while Lucretia was sandwiched between Frank and their mother. Rose kept complaining she wanted to see her son and didn’t appear for one moment to believe any of her children’s excuses. Lucretia felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as the staircase creaked and the physician descended. When he appeared in the parlor, everyone fell silent. Matilda stood. “How is he, doctor?” “Mrs. Goodwin.” The doctor paused, shaking his head. “I believe it is time for you and your family to say your goodbyes.” Rose bolted for the stairs, surprisingly quick for a woman of 78, followed by Frank and Lucretia who tried in vain to persuade her to stop. Rose opened the door to Oscar’s room and was met with the pungent odor. “Oh dear Lord!” she said. Lucretia and Frank, both at her heels, were too late to catch Rose as she fainted.

–LUCRETIA’S DIARY ENTRY– August 29, 1917 Mother has outlived another one of her children. I don’t know what else to say. Mother wanted to see her son, but at her age the shock could kill her. I warned Frank. I told him she must not see Oscar under any circumstances, but he didn’t take me seriously until it was too late. She saw Oscar and fainted immediately. Thankfully, we were able to revive Mother. She will live yet, but will be haunted by the image for the rest of her days, I am certain of it. When I arrived home, I notified Benjamin and the girls and went upstairs straightway. I am exhausted, and not at all prepared or willing to enter another period of mourning, but tomorrow the cycle begins anew.

DEAR HETTIE, I wish someone would have listened to me. I warned and warned and warned until I was out of breath. My intuition told me something was wrong. Had someone listened, Uncle Oscar may well have been saved. You would have known what to do. You would have been more persuasive. You would have known the antitoxin needed istered during a certain timeframe. You would have known what to say. No one listens to me. No one cares. It is too late now. Too late to make a difference. I can only pray that Oscar’s soul is now at rest. I wish you were home. Your sister Ida

Blown Away

Uncle Oscar’s death and conscription were five months in the past and far from the minds of Ida, Mabel and Adelaide as they gathered in the Morris’ sitting room to sew felt Christmas ornaments. “Why didn’t Alice us?” Ida said. “She’s spending time with Mr. Viens.” Adelaide sighed. “And she’s jealous of you for getting to vote in a couple weeks.” Mabel laughed. “That’s ridiculous. If she wanted to be able to vote, she should have been born two years earlier.” Ida and Adelaide chuckled. The Wartime Election Act granted the right to vote in federal elections to women who were at least 21 years old and who had a son, father or brother in the military or who were in service themselves. Alice had made it no secret that she was the only one – never mind that Adelaide and Dorothea were exempt as well ‒ who would not be voting that December. Adelaide said, “Does that mean Tommy would have been born two years later?” “Yes, they would have to switch places,” Ida said. “Father, would really think Tommy’s too young to be married then.” The sisters giggled and didn’t hear the front door open and James enter the house. When he appeared in the sitting room, he was twitching slightly and glaring at them. Ida swallowed. No, James, please don’t embarrass me. Please, don’t. I’ve kept your secret. Please don’t. “Doesn’t Hettie have a friend who lives in Halifax?” James said. Ida nodded. “One of the nurses, yes.” “Well, Halifax doesn’t exist anymore.” “What are you talking about?”

“It’s all right here.” He held up The Examiner and on the front page was a photograph of Halifax reduced to a black cloud of smoke. The sisters’ eyes grew wide. Ida took the newspaper from him but was reading so quickly she didn’t understand anything. Before she could finish, Mabel grabbed the paper and began reading aloud. “‘The explosion occurred at 9:04 a.m., the consequence of a collision between the French vessel Mont-Blanc and the Norwegian vessel Imo. A fire started not long after. At the time, there was little cause for concern.’” Mabel dropped paper to her side and exhaled. “Why did you stop?” Adelaide said. “I can’t believe what I’m reading.” “Continue.” Unable to contain her impatience, Adelaide jumped. “Please continue.” Mabel inhaled. “‘The city’s populous had been distracted from their day’s activities and began to gather near the harbor. When the explosion burst, it let out enough power to level buildings in the entire Richmond District. In other areas, glass was broken and buildings sustained damage. There have been reports of numerous injuries. The death toll is unknown.’ “‘In addition, the explosion caused a wave which damaged parts of Dartmouth across the harbor.’ “‘Aid was sent to the city, and will be forthcoming.’” Mabel set the paper on the table, unable to force herself to read further. Adelaide took it and leafed through, looking for additional information. James said, “There is no doubt in my mind that it will be found out that German spies were responsible.” Ida eyed him, wondering if he was experiencing drug induced paranoia. “How would that have worked?”

“It’s pretty simple to me. The ship captains weren’t ship captains.” “Spies made the ships collide to destroy the city? Why wouldn’t they destroy a more important city like Toronto or Ottawa or Montreal? Destroying Halifax does nothing unless you ruin the harbor.” “How do you know they didn’t ruin it?” Ida sighed. “Because the article would say so.” “All newspapers are highly censored.” “Fine. I just want to prepare for Christmas. How about it, girls?” Ida picked up the star she was stitching before James interfered and silently began stuffing it with batting. Christmas would go on as planned. He would not ruin another holiday for the children. “You can’t pretend it didn’t happen, Ida,” James said. “I’m not trying to pretend. I’m trying not to let it ruin my day.” “It certainly ruined the Haligonians day. They would give anything to be able to spend their time doing idol fluff as opposed to being dead.” “Not everyone in the city is dead.” “I bet most are.” “Please, James, my sisters and I were spending time together. We’d like to finish our projects before it gets late.” James threw his arms up. “Fine. I know when I’m not wanted.” He left the room. Mabel turned to Adelaide. “Perhaps your care packages for your grade 12 project will have a change of purpose now. Just think of all the homeless people, and it’s almost winter.” It already had snowed and if the train tracks were damaged, how would supplies

get to the city? Where would the extra food come from to feed everyone? Adelaide picked up her sewing, and the needle felt as heavy and sharp as a dagger. The excitement she felt earlier in the day now seemed ridiculous and childlike. Did it really matter if she won accolades for her school project or if father was proud of her initiative? Was a laugh at Alice’s expense fair or appropriate? No, none of those things matter anymore. War had reached home shores.

THAT EVENING, JAMES took out his Bible and appeared to be reading. Ida found this strange, considering none of James’ problems were addressed in the good book, but maybe, just maybe, he would find some guidance for addiction amongst the scriptures. She sat beside him and tried to see what age he was reading. “Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I fear no evil,” he said. “Did you pick that psalm on purpose?” “A very astute observation. Someone must pray for those lost souls.” Ida stood. But who will save your lost soul, James?

He seized hold of her wrist. “Aren’t you going to pray with me?” “All, all right, James. I will.” She returned to her place beside him, and he took her hand, properly this time, and intertwined their fingers. Ida resisted the urge to pull her hand away in surprise. It had been months since he held her hand. No, she corrected herself, not months, more than a year. The last time was before the tooth abbess started. James began the Lord’s Prayer. Ida closed her eyes, set aside her own feelings and prayed for the dead, the dying and the homeless in a city not that far away.

(NOTE TUCKED INSIDE a New Year’s card.) Dear Hettie, I am sorry to hear about the Halifax Explosion, because I know it greatly affects a dear friend of yours. Give her our condolences, even though she has never met us. I have been following the story in the newspapers. The city has received charity from a variety of places, some as far away as the United States. It is a terrible thing that has happened, but the city will rebuild, and it will return to its former glory, unlike those poor villages in Europe. I hear all that’s left of Ypres is the walls of the cathedral. What did Geoffrey die to defend? Rubble. You will read this after the New Year has begun. Let 1918 be the final year of this terrible war. I know you agree. I hope you will be home soon. You won’t even recognize me, I will guess. I have gray streaks in my hair now, most of them from the last year or so. Ida

1918

Alice’s Beau

Even though Cedric Viens had courted Alice for nearly two years, Lucretia wasn’t sure what she thought of him. There was the 14 year age difference. That, in-and-of-itself, was not an issue – after all, a decade separated her and Benjamin – but Alice was still a teenager. Lucretia had been in her 20s when she married as were Alice’s older sisters. No, the issue that kept Lucretia up at night was the fact Cedric was Geoffrey’s old boss. It felt like a loyalty test, that it was a choice between Alice and Hettie. There also was her best friend to consider. Geoffrey was Amelia’s deceased son, and Lucretia had known Amelia for 50 years. On the other hand, Cedric had a positive effect on Alice. She was calmer when he was around and not worried about the extended family embarrassing her and, more importantly, not plotting to embarrass anyone else. It was the Stewards’ responsibility to supervise the courtship, a task Lucretia found tiresome and frequently delegated to others. Tonight it was unavoidable. Cedric was coming to dinner, and Alice had spent the better part of the evening priming and primping while Lucretia, Adelaide and Mrs. Baxter prepared the dining room table. The good china, normally used only for Sunday dinners and holidays, was set and a cascade of silk roses decorated the centre of the table. The voluminous bouquet would block Lucretia’s view of Benjamin, but it was too lovely to place anywhere else. “Do we need to do this every time he’s here?” Adelaide said, not even trying to hide the irritation from her voice. “Yes, he’s our special guest,” Lucretia said. “Don’t you when James, Gardner and Geoffrey used to come courting?” “Not really. I don’t like the formality. This dress is itchy.” “You’re a woman now, so it’s about time you start dressing like one. You’ll quickly grow accustomed to discomfort.” Adelaide made a face, which Lucretia ignored.

“We women must sacrifice more than men,” Lucretia said. “We wear corsets and dresses that hinder our freedom of motion. We give up our jobs when we marry. We give up friendships when we have children. In many cases we give up our entire families when we’re ‘given away’.” “Then I don’t want to be given away.” “We all say that until our time comes and the right man enters our lives.” Adelaide rolled her eyes and tried to scratch her elbows, but Lucretia gave her a critical glare. The sound of Alice running down the stairs was quickly followed by Alice herself who showed off her primping efforts by twirling. “Very lovely,” Lucretia said. “Mr. Viens will be here at any moment. Where’s your father.” “In his study.” “Go get him.” The girls left the room, and Lucretia sighed. Let’s get this over with, she thought, glancing at the clock. This headache won’t go away on its own.

CEDRIC, FORMAL AND polite at every visit, sat beside Alice at dinner and across from Adelaide. Lucretia narrowed her eyes. Was Cedric a bit too formal and polite? Gardner had been the same way before he married Mabel and then his obnoxiousness came out. What if Cedric was the same way? “I have faith the war will end soon. We’ve lost two employees already.” Cedric paused and cleared this throat. “Oh, I’m sorry. My sympathies. I must learn to think before I speak.” Alice smiled. “It’s all right. The family understands.” I’m not so sure I do, Lucretia thought but said nothing. Adelaide opened her mouth to defend Geoffrey when Benjamin interrupted. “I’m hoping this weather clears soon,” he said. “Yes, the weather.” Cedric appeared a bit flustered. Lucretia smiled weakly as Mrs. Baxter served the next course. “Tell us, Mr. Viens,” she said, “did you vote in the election last month?” “Of course, Mrs. Steward. I couldn’t let the slackers and Kaiser sympathizers win, now could I?” Alice put her hand on Cedric’s. “Mother’s brother, the town councilor, is a Liberal.” “Oh, I see. I’ve slipped up again. I’m sorry.” Cedric cleared his throat and, face crimson, looked at Benjamin who waved his hand dismissively. unable to gage his wife’s reaction because the floral arrangement blocked his view. Alice, who normally would be mortified, smiled. “Oh, dear, how were you to know?” “There, there, it’ll be all right,” Adelaide said, mimicking Alice’s sarcastic tone.

There was a moment of awkward silence. “My sister likes to joke,” Alice said. “Oh.” Cedric laughed slightly. “I see. I’m not saying anything until after dinner. I’m afraid I’ll make another mistake.” “I think that would be wise,” Benjamin said. The dinner proceeded in uncomfortable silence.

AFTER DINNER, CEDRIC took Alice’s hand. “Let’s go in the sitting room.” Alice surveyed the room to see who would be their chaperone. She found it curious no one seemed to notice they were leaving the dining room, yet alone volunteered to go with them. Cedric tugged on her hand. “Come along.” As they proceeded to the sitting room, Alice occasionally looked behind them, wondering when they’d be stopped or someone would follow, but they reached the sitting room uninterrupted. Cedric sat on the sofa and patted the cushion beside him. She took the invitation, still convinced they were going to be interrupted at any moment. “We’ve been courting for two years now, Alice. You make me quite happy, and I believe I do the same for you. You know two years is longer than most couples. I’d like to—” Cedric pulled something out of his pocket but dropped it on the floor. He fell to his knees and searched under the sofa. When he came up, he was holding a ring. “Alice, I’d like to ask you to marry me.” Alice squealed and jumped to her feet, hands over her mouth and lip quivering. “What do you say, Alice?” “Yes, yes, of course.” Cedric fumbled with the ring but managed to place it on her finger. As if on cue, the rest of the family ed them to shower them with congratulations. Lucretia appeared ill, but Alice was so overcome with emotion, she didn’t notice. Benjamin shook Cedric’s hand, and Adelaide elbowed closer for a better look at the ring. “Well, you know what they say,” Cedric said. “Long courtship, short

engagement.” Alice’s eyes lit up. “Oh, yes, we must marry before next winter.”

“WELL, I’M GLAD THAT’S over,” Lucretia said, taking a sip of coffee. “I don’t know why you gave him permission to marry Alice.” Benjamin looked up from his cup. “One of us had to. It was taking you forever to decide.” “He comes across sometimes as a blithering idiot.” “You know he’s not that. He’s been good for Alice.” “Yes, but how long will it last?” “Until she’s married, I hope.” Benjamin leaned back. “Although I have to it, Alice hasn’t been too bad considering. She has a habit of speaking her mind without paying any heed to how harsh it sounds, but the only time I was furious with her was when she skipped school to buy a hat.” Lucretia went white. “What? When was this?” “Three years ago probably. I had left my post at the academy for some business or another downtown, and I caught her. She was as surprised to see me as I was to see her. When I onished her, she said to me, ‘I’m sorry I’m not perfect like Hettie and Freddie.’ I responded, ‘Child, those two are far from perfect.’” “What did she mean by that?” “I think she felt all our attention was on Hettie and Freddie, and she wanted attention on her.” “Alice does love attention. Doesn’t sound like she realized negative attention is not what she was seeking. When have we ever claimed Hettie and Freddie are perfect? Far from it.” “No, we never claimed it. But you must it, Hettie and Freddie have dominated the topic of many conversations. Alice will get the attention she craves in the coming months.” “Enough to last a lifetime, because she’ll never be the centre of attention again.”

Benjamin laughed. “Don’t tell her that. She won’t want to have children.” “She won’t have much choice.” Lucretia finished her coffee and stood. “I simply hope for the best. For all my children, simply the best. You know what I mean, correct?” “Of course. I feel the same way.” She narrowed her eyes and didn’t immediately answer. “I hope that is indeed the case.” Benjamin’s eyes were wide. “Why would it not be?” “We have, as of late, been at odds over Hettie and Freddie. I don’t know what you believe sometimes anymore.” He took a long sip from his mug before setting it down and making eye . “They amuse me.” “They amuse you? Our children are not some sort of science experiment. Their decisions could get them killed. Do you not understand that?” “I understand it more than anyone! Leave me alone about it. Go talk to Alice and plan some wedding things. Go.” “Fine. I see where I stand.” Lucretia left the room, her skirts swishing as she made a hurried exit.

DEAR HETTIE, I hope this letter finds you well. I know it must be dreadfully boring there at times and frightening at others. Do you see Freddie often? I have exciting news to share with you, dear sister. I’m proud to announce my engagement to Cedric Vines. We plan on marrying later this year, probably midautumn, after the leaves have fallen but before the snow flies. I just can’t see having a summer wedding because it is so terribly hot during those months, and I don’t want to perspire in the fanciest dress I will ever wear. Cedric came and asked Father’s permission at Christmas but did not ask me properly until yesterday. Looking back, he had perhaps hinted at it, asking me questions about home furnishings and what I had stashed away in my hope chest, but I didn’t understand the hints. For his proposal, Cedric took me into the sitting room after dinner. I thought it was a bit odd no one cared we had slipped away alone. He told me how much he loved me then got down on bent knee and proposed. I think I shrieked like a child when I said yes, and I don’t much else. I have always dreamed of a large wedding, but Mother says it’s inappropriate in wartime. I understand this, I suppose, but it is my wedding and I will only get one. Why can’t I have as elaborate a wedding as Ida did? It’s all quite aggravating to have Mother be so controlling. Was she like that with you? Oh, my. I’m late for tea and must dash off. It seems I am forever running late for something. I’ll probably be late for my own wedding. I’ll keep you informed of my wedding plans. Your sister, Alice

DEAR ALICE, No, I don’t see Freddie as often as I would like, but I am grateful to see him at all. Thank you for telling me about your engagement. Congratulations. I know you must be quite happy. I will look forward to hearing more about your plans. Yes, Mother, will assert her opinions many times, so be prepared for it. Were you aware, dear sister, that Mr. Viens is Geoffrey’s old boss? This is a source of some awkwardness for me, given the situation. I am not trying to dissuade you, mind, from your decision, only make you informed, so you are not blind to reality. I will write again in the near future. Your sister. Hettie

Adelaide’s Next Step

Adelaide’s only company on the walk home from school was her imagination, piqued by the sound of the snow crunching beneath her boots. Last school year, she had felt independent walking to and from school alone, but now it seemed strange not to have the company of Alice and their older siblings. As she climbed the porch steps, Adelaide loosened the scarf from around her mouth and nose, cold air burning her nostrils. She rushed into the house and nearly slipped on the mail lying on the floor under the mail slot. Normally, Lucretia sorted the mail and placed it on the reception room’s parlor stand before Adelaide came home. Included in the correspondence was a letter from Toronto Normal School. Adelaide slipped it into her coat pocket before depositing the rest of the envelopes on the stand. Oh, I shouldn’t have done that, she thought. It’ll seem very suspicious if I wear my coat upstairs. She touched the letter through her pocket before removing it and putting it in her school bag instead. As Adelaide snapped her bag shut, Alice said, “What are you doing?” Adelaide flinched. “You startled me.” Alice was standing a short distance away, her hand on the crown molding that outlined the doorway leading out of the parlor. “What are you doing? I saw you put a letter in your bag.” “Not a letter. A list. From school.” “Uh, huh,” Alice came closer. “You’re up to something.” “Nonsense. Simply because you like to play games doesn’t mean everyone does.” “Hum. We’ll see.” Alice picked up her pile of letters, but watched Adelaide from the corner of her eye as she hung up her coat and hurried upstairs with the bag.

“I have my eye on you,” Alice said. “It’ll all come out in the end.”

ADELAIDE REMOVED HER textbooks and composition book from her bag. This was the same routine she had every afternoon, and even though it was now no longer an ordinary afternoon, she was afraid something might look out of place should Alice come in and inspect. The letter from the normal school was still cold, and Adelaide wondered if that was a bad omen. No, she decided, she couldn’t open it in a location where anyone could walk in. The bathroom was safer. If she locked the door there, no one would think anything of it. Adelaide hurried to the small room down the hall and after successfully locking herself inside, sat on the edge of the claw foot tub clenching the letter to her chest. After a moment, she examined her name and address typewritten on the envelope before placing the envelope under her nose. It smelled of ink, and she envisioned the office it was typed in. She inhaled deeply. I need to get this over with. Opening the letter, she read:

Dear Miss Steward,

We are pleased to inform you your application to Toronto Normal School has been accepted.

Accepted! She was accepted. Adelaide began jumping but stopped when she realized someone downstairs might wonder what was happening and come investigate. How would she explain her glee? Adelaide reread the letter to be sure she hadn’t misunderstood, but it really did say, “accepted.” That meant ... going away to school. She again sat on the edge of the tub. Toronto was a large city, a very large city, a scary city. Suddenly, she was unable to move. She didn’t want to live in a big city. She could decline ission and stay home. She didn’t really want to do that either. What was she supposed to do?

ADELAIDE WAS NOT SOMEONE who was accustomed to keeping secrets. Of course, she rarely had a secret to keep. That was her sisters’ prerogative but never hers. Until this evening. Secrets in the family rarely stayed secrets for long. She swallowed, all appetite lost, as the main entrée was served. When the rest of family was busy chewing, she spoke. “I received a letter today.” The family did not react. Receiving a letter was not noteworthy, she knew, so she added, “I’ve been accepted to Toronto Normal School for next term.” Alice coughed. “I knew you were up to something. Why didn’t you tell me?” “Well, it’s not as if we’re confidants. Why would I tell you?” “You still should have told her if she asked you directly,” Lucretia said. “But, moreover, you should have told us before you intended to apply.” Adelaide hung her head and focused on her hands that were folded in her lap. Mother was right, of course. “Yes, I should have.” “Why didn’t you?” “Because if I wasn’t accepted, then no one would know of my disappointment.” Benjamin leaned forward. “I have always taught my children to have goals and to strive for them.” “I know, Father, but I, I, didn’t know how you would react. I thought since Hettie went away because of her profession that you might not want me to have one.” “I would not stop you from achieving your goals based on your sibling’s actions.” Lucretia shot Benjamin a stern look but said nothing.

Adelaide lifted her head and smiled. “Thank you, Father. But—” “But?” Benjamin waved his hand over the table. “Toronto frightens me.” Alice choked once more, this time for real on a piece of carrot, forcing Lucretia to pat her on the back. As Alice hacked, Benjamin focused on Adelaide. “If Mother and Hettie were able to do it, so can you.” Adelaide nodded. “Of course, Father.” “Fear is merely an obstacle to overcome. that, Adelaide. Fear has a way of stopping people from doing what they most want to do.”

DEAR HETTIE, How are you? I think of you often and hope you are well. A while back you asked me to keep you informed of my progress at school. You should be pleased to know I have been accepted to Toronto Normal School, the same teaching college Mother attended. The letter arrived this morning. I opened it in the privacy of the bathroom. I was fearful I had been rejected and if I had, I didn’t want anyone to see my tears. Instead, I opened it and was overjoyed. So I will be going to Toronto in the autumn. I’m excited and frightened all at once. The city is so large, and I won’t know anyone. Father says I shouldn’t worry about that; I’m there to get an education and nothing else. Mother did it, he says, and you went to nursing school, so it is obvious I can do it, too. But when Mother went to the college, the city was much smaller, and there was no such thing as motorcar traffic, and it wasn’t wartime. Can you tell I’m feeling overwhelmed and I don’t know what to do, yet I want to go so badly? Some words of wisdom would ease my mind. How did you feel when you went away? Were you homesick? Did you complete your studies with thoughts of when you would come home? I wish I could speak to you in person. I have a million questions. I miss you, dear sister. I’m not a little girl anymore and as I age I have more and more questions for my sisters, and Alice is no help. I will be writing you more often as it gets closer for advice. Your sister, Adelaide Dear Adelaide, Congratulations to your acceptance to the normal school. It is very understandable to feel anxious, going somewhere new and doing something new. It will be uncomfortable, awkward perhaps is a better word, at first, and you will be homesick, but it will be worth it. Eventually, that will wear

off, and you will begin a new routine and you will embark on the rest of your life. You are welcome to write me whenever you wish and ask as many questions as you wish. We will talk again in person someday. We must simply be patient, and know the war will not continue forever. It cannot. I will write again soon. Your proud sister, Hettie

A War of a Different Sort

“I ’m very glad we came , although I’m incredibly happy to be heading home,” Maeve said, a large smile on her flushed face as she rubbed her stomach. “I’m so glad we didn’t listen to everyone who said we should wait because women in my condition shouldn’t travel. If we waited until after the baby came, we’d never go.” Tommy shared his wife’s relief at returning to Ontario and could barely contain his excitement. He returned the smile. “That’s true. We’ll cross the border soon. But before we do, we should open the window. You look a bit peaked.” Maeve turned her head to face the landscape ing them in a blur. “Thank you. I do feel a bit tired.” “You should try to sleep. I’m sure you need it.” Tommy opened the train car’s window, and Maeve sat next to it, her eyes closed and the corners of her lips upturned, as the sun bathed her face. “Benita’s fiancé is a soldier, you know,” she said without opening her eyes. “They’re sending him to the front. Poor thing. I have a feeling he’s going to die soon.” Benita, Maeve’s pen friend for 14 years, was the reason for their visit to Boston. It was the first time the long distance friends had to meet in person, and when Benita saw the Stewards off at the train station, the women promised that it would not be the last. Tommy put a hand on his wife’s knee. “Please, don’t talk about death. The baby can hear you.” It was a husband’s duty to worry, Tommy asserted, but he had become somewhat superstitious ever since Maeve told him in April she was expecting. He hadn’t become overprotective like Gardner, who forbad Mabel from leaving the house when pregnant, but lately he believed in omens. Maeve placed a hand on her stomach. “I can’t help it. Look what happened to Geoffrey, and Victor lost his senses.”

They soon would be back on Canadian soil. New England had been a nice trip, but it brought to mind his ancestors who were forced to flee in terror after the American Revolution. What would his great-great-great-grandparents think to know a Loyalist once again could walk around Massachusetts without being accosted? The trip, perhaps, had been too much for Maeve. She had been exhausted all day and, mere minutes after closing her eyes, fell asleep. Tommy inhaled deeply, all lightness in his mood gone. It could all be normal. I don’t when Alice and Adelaide came along, and Ida and Mabel would never share such information with me. Sleep is all Maeve needs.

TOMMY THOUGHT ALL MAEVE needed was a good night’s sleep and she’d be right as rain, but the next morning Maeve awoke with body aches and a fever. He encouraged her to rest and brought her porridge and toast for breakfast. She only managed to eat a few bites before collapsing back into her pillow. At lunch, Tommy brought soup and fed it to Maeve a sip at a time, persuading her to eat for the sake of the baby and her own recovery. He was now convinced that the naysayers had been right, and Maeve should not have traveled. Had they stayed home, she would be well now. Thinking Maeve had a cold, Tommy brought her cold compresses for her fever, rags for her runny nose, cup after cup of tea and helped her to the toilet when necessary. Despite his efforts, hours had ed, and there was no improvement. “My head is pounding,” Maeve said in the late afternoon before dozing off. That was when Tommy decided he needed expert advice and made two phone calls. The first was to his mother, the second to the doctor. Lucretia arrived first, and waited impatiently with Tommy for the physician to arrive and conduct his examination. When the diagnosis came, Tommy was shocked so speechless, Lucretia spoke for him. “Influenza? In August?” she said. “Influenza can strike any time of year. It’s simply more common in the winter. I prescribe fluids and plenty of rest. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.” Lucretia sat on the bed and took Maeve’s hand. She waited until the doctor took his bag of instruments and left before saying to Tommy, “Your brother and sister both had grippe in the spring. They were ill for three days, so I’m sure there’s nothing to worry about.” “Three days? I doubt that very much, Mother. Not if they were as ill as Maeve.” “I don’t know. I wasn’t there. But the letters I received claimed as much.”

To avoid eye , Tommy fiddled with his pocket watch. The second hand, it seemed to him, was advancing in slow motion. “I’m going to sleep for a while. Can you watch her?” Lucretia nodded. “Hettie and Freddie,” he said as if they were one person, “three days, you say?” Lucretia bobbed her head. “Yes. They call it three-day-something-or-another. I’m certain Maeve will be fine. She’s young and strong.”

TOMMY DIDN’T REALIZE how exhausted he was until he collapsed on the sofa and fell into a deep sleep. He awoke, gasping for air, after dreaming he was powerless to save Maeve from drowning in ebony water. The room was dark, and it took him several minutes to realize he was in the parlor and that the sun had set. How long had he been napping? He heard voices in the hallway and investigated. Ida and Mabel were in the middle of a conversation. Odd. Maybe he was still dreaming. “What are you doing here?” Tommy said, rubbing his eyes. “We came to help you and Mother.” Mabel said. “How is Maeve?” “She’s sleeping. But—” “But what?” “She’s struggling a bit.” Tommy pushed Mabel aside and ran past Ida, without bothering to acknowledge her, and up the stairs. His sisters followed. Maeve was in the same place she had been when he last saw her. Her sweaty hair was sprawled on the pillow, and she was breathing through cracked lips, eyelids fluttering. He could hear her breathe with each rise and fall of her chest. Lucretia sat beside the bed, a book in her hand and half a cup of tea on the nightstand. “Mother,” Tommy said, “what’s happened? How long was I asleep?” “The fever has risen, Dear. Maeve’s breathing is labored at times.” “We need to call back the doctor,” Ida said. “This is Uncle Oscar all over again.” Tommy open his mouth to speak, but it was as if he was incapable of it, so once

more Lucretia answered for him. “It’s not like Uncle Oscar. There is no antitoxin for flu. We need to wait it out until the doctor returns in the morning. There are things we can do to make her comfortable in the meanwhile.” “Things we can do to make her more comfortable?” Tommy said, eyes wild as he once again found his voice. “How about we try to heal her.” “Only her body can do that. We will be her nurses. Now get me some ice for an ice bag.” Tommy obeyed and glanced at the clock as he stood in the kitchen chipping away at the icebox’s block. They had about a nine hour wait for the doctor’s arrival. Nine hours wasn’t bad, he told himself; that was a workday. Some people worked 12 hour days, or 14. No, he could wait. He would need to wait. He swallowed. But could Maeve wait?

WHY WAS THIS TAKING so long? For the third time, the physician took Maeve’s vitals before feeling the lymph nodes in her neck. Tommy, who stood surrounded by his sisters and mother as if they were holding him back from assaulting the doctor, bit his thumbnail. “Oh, for Christ sake, tell us something.” When the doctor finally left Maeve’s bedside, his face was expressionless. “Mr. Steward, may I speak with you privately?” “No. No, whatever you have to say you will say in front of the extended family.” “Very well. Mrs. Steward is very ill. This is an aggressive form of influenza. It’s like nothing I’ve seen.” “Then maybe it’s not influenza.” “I’m confident in my diagnosis. It is very aggressive. I firmly believe Mrs. Steward is not long for this world.” What? Had the doctor just said Maeve was going to die? Surely he was wrong; only three days ago, Maeve was so full of energy and life, and her future seemed boundless. Lucretia was the first Steward to snap out of their collective daze. “Mabel, as quick as you can, go ring Mrs. Bartlette. Mabel! Go now!” Mabel bolted, and her footsteps could be heard clomping down the stairs. “You must be able to do something,” Tommy said, his voice unsteady. The doctor shook his head and picked up his bag. “I’m sorry. You will want to gather the rest of the family to say your goodbyes. I recommend wearing gauze masks. I don’t know how contagious this strain is.” Maeve let out several gasps, and Tommy extended his arms to block the exit to the room. “There has to be something you can do. She sounds asthmatic,

pneumatic, her breathing.” “It is not easy to it a patient is lost, but her lungs are filled with fluid, her lymph nodes are swollen like walnuts, and her fever is 106.” “You must do something. I can’t live without her. I cannot live without her!” Maeve gasped, and Tommy relaxed his arms and moved closer to her. “The baby. What happens to it when Maeve, when Maeve—” “It will die, too, Mr. Steward, if it hasn’t already.” “No. No. No. I can’t lose them both. Take the baby. Take it.” Tommy’s heart was beating so hard, he heard it thumping in his ear. He ripped the covers off Maeve and sunk to his knees. Ida clasped her hands over her mouth. Lucretia stepped forward, but said nothing, her face pale. The doctor appeared unfazed and didn’t so much as flinch. “Take the baby,” Tommy said, gesturing. “Take it!” “Mr. Steward, a fetus at this stage of gestation would not survive outside the womb.” “Try! I don’t care about the mess. Do it here. Cut it out! Save our child. Save our only child. Please. Please, take it.” The doctor shook his head. “I can’t do it, Mr. Steward. That is unethical. No good would come of it. The fetus would not survive, your wife would be put in distress for nothing, and I would lose my medical license.” “Please, please. I can’t lose them both.” The physician’s expression remained hard. “I am very sorry. Now, pardon me. I have other patients waiting.” Ida suppressed a lump in her throat as tears began to build and put her hand on Tommy’s shoulder, hoping to comfort him, or at the very least show her . He brushed her hand away with some force, struggled to his feet and ran to the

bathroom down the hall. She followed and jiggled the doorknob, but it was locked. She knocked. “Tommy, let me in.” “Leave me be,” his voice responded after several seconds. “You shouldn’t be alone.” “Leave me be, I said.” At that moment, Mabel returned upstairs and ed Ida in the hallway outside the bathroom. “What’s happened?” Ida held a finger up to her lips. “Shush. Listen.” The sisters pressed their ears to the door and heard the muffled sound of crying. “Come on out, Tommy,” Mabel said. “You should be with family.” “Tommy, don’t make us worry about you, too.” Ida jiggled the doorknob. “Thomas, open up this instant. Thomas!” “Have you taken leave of your senses?” Lucretia said from the bedroom. “Girls, you need to allow your brother time to understand what’s happening and deal with his emotions. Trying times are ahead.”

WELL-WISHERS ARRIVED to say their goodbyes while Tommy was still locked the bathroom, and the parade of friends and family felt as if it went on for hours. Tears welled in the eyes of nearly every visitor, and Amelia was quietly sobbing into her handkerchief. Unable to sit still, Tommy often paced the room before returning to his place beside Maeve and trying to comfort her. The only time he left the room was when Benjamin and Walter visited, and he felt he should exhibit a stiff upper lip. Maeve had stopped responding when spoken to, and her breathing was barely audible, so much so that on more than one occasion the family believed she had ed, but the silence was occasionally pierced by a sharp gasp that would startle everyone. “You need to let her go,” Lucretia said after the parade of well-wishers ended. “Tommy, she is holding on for you.” “I can’t let her go,” he said, clenching Maeve’s hand. “You must. She is suffering. Let her know it’s okay to go.” “But it’s not okay to go.” “Thomas. You’re being selfish.” Amelia left her weeping corner, remaining speechless until she reached the bed. Everyone expected she would counter Lucretia, putting an end to the conversation by taking Tommy’s side. “Tommy, dear, we must think of Maeve. No matter how much we love her, she is— She is dying.” Amelia kneeled beside the bed and turned to her daughter. “Maeve, Sweetheart, go see Geoffrey. Go see your brother and send him our love. And when you see your siblings that died as infants, hug them and tell them they were wanted.” Unable to conceal her tears, Lucretia hid her face with her arm. Overcome,

Mabel left the room followed close behind by Ida, her lip quivering. Tommy didn’t move. “But I can’t let her go. I can’t let our child go. Our hopes and dreams.” Amelia wiped her eyes. “You must. She’s not going to go unless you give her permission.” He swallowed. “Maeve, my love, can you hear me? If you can, it, it, it’s all right to let go if it comes to it. I will miss you terribly, but I understand.” Unable to say anything more, he buried his face in the pillow beside her sweatcovered head. A few hours later, as the clock was about strike midnight, Maeve took her final breath, and the family’s sunshine was gone.

A SEA OF BLACK CROWDED into Tommy’s cramped cottage as the StewardGoodwin-Bartlette clan was plunged into mourning for the third time since the war began. Tommy wandered through the crowd in a daze. He hadn’t eaten or slept since Maeve’s death, deep lines and dark bags had formed under his eyes, and he looked as if he might collapse at any moment. Whenever someone spoke, he would mumble a response and move on. “I don’t know why Maeve died,” Lucretia said mid-conversation to her sister Sadie. “Hettie had the flu in the spring and she’s just fine.” “I that,” Sadie said. “And Freddie as well?” “Yes, they both did. The doctor swears Maeve had the same thing, but it killed her with swiftness. It must have been something else.” Tommy heard only this portion of the conversation, and he scowled. Before his mother and aunt noticed his presence, he turned and headed for the staircase. “Perhaps, but at this stage, it’s a moot point,” Sadie said. “We all warned her not to travel in her delicate condition.” “So true. But she seemed so pleased to go meet her friend. She never had the opportunity before, considering the distance and finances.” Sadie nodded. “Maeve was always so cheerful. I never saw her upset once, even with that mother of hers.” “Yes, she was lovely. I’m glad Tommy married her.” Sadie nodded and patted her sister’s arm. “It is such a shame how it all ended. You and Amelia have been friends for longer than I . Two of your children marry two of her children, and both of her children die. If I believed in signs, I’d think some higher power does not want our families united.” “I’m beginning to believe that a higher power doesn’t want our families associating at all. If only you knew how Amelia has been behaving since the

war began....”

TOMMY LOCKED HIS BEDROOM door and sat on the floor, his mind consumed by a singular thought: Hettie had survived the flu and Maeve had not. His temperature rose. Hettie had survived the flu, and Maeve had not! A bird sitting on a tree beside the house squawked, and Tommy turned just in time to see it fly away. It was symbolic, he thought, of his hopes and dreams flying away. His gaze then fell on the bed. So much had happened in that bed over the past year. He and Maeve had spent their first night together in it, conceived their child in it, she died in it, and now it was no longer their bed; it was simply his bedframe with a new mattress. He stood and opened Maeve’s jewelry box on the dresser to pull out his greatgrandmother’s ring. He knew he should give it back to Lucretia, after all it was a family heirloom, but it also had been Maeve’s engagement ring, and he wasn’t prepared to give it up. The tears came. Why his Maeve? Why? He threw the ring back into the box and slammed shut the lid. Why couldn’t the flu have taken him? His life was worthless. Hers, hers protected the most important thing of all, their child. But, no, he would live on. He would live on miserable and broken, tortured for the remainder of his days.

LUCRETIA TOOK A BRIEF respite from the mourners, sitting under a tree in the backyard that she realized too late was growing below Tommy and Maeve’s bedroom. It was stifling in the cottage, and circulating air brought much needed relief. She closed her eyes as a breeze puffed in her face. A moment later, she heard the rustling of skirts, and opened her eyes to see Caroline, Amelia’s daughter-in-law, approaching, eyes brimming with unspilled tears. “I’m sorry,” Lucretia said. “You must be missing Maeve and need some time to yourself. I’ll go back inside.” “No, no, Mrs. Steward. I am not upset about Maeve. Which is to say, I do miss her, but I am upset at the moment because of my mother-in-law.” Lucretia folded her hands at her waist. “What has Amelia done now?” “She embarrassed us in front of everyone. She told Teddy, ‘At least Maeve was able to produce grandchildren. Unlike you.’ Then she poked him in the chest, and he took a step backward. In shock, surely. Her next words were ‘You have failed as a son, completely failed.’ She then pointed her finger at me and said, ‘And you failed as well.’ It was so humiliating.” “I would think after nine years of marriage you’d be used to her.” Carolina sniffed. “Oh, she says things here and there that make one want to roll one’s eyes, but this was in front of everyone. I couldn’t stay in that house a moment longer.” “Grief makes people do strange things, and Mrs. Bartlette has had her fair share of grief. No, I shouldn’t say ‘fair share.’ It has been an unfair share. It has been dumped upon her.” Caroline looked confused, defiant even. “So does that pardon her to say anything that comes to mind?” Lucretia shook her head. “No. It simply explains it. I’m certain she’s probably already forgotten she’s said it. That’s how her mind works. She upsets everyone around her, but the thought is gone the moment it leaves her withered lips.”

“Well, what am I to do?” Caroline said, swaying somewhat and moving her arms about. “How can I face everyone?” “You will face everyone the same way we all do. Mrs. Bartlette says these things because she believes they are true. She believes everyone else thinks they are true as well, but they aren’t, and we all know it. You will go back in there, as we all do, the better person. Do you understand?” Caroline nodded. “Good. Sit with me and compose yourself. I’m certain Amelia isn’t finished yet. How could she be? The afternoon is young.”

AMELIA HAD NOT CANCELED their scheduled tea, although Lucretia had expected as much, had hoped and prayed for as much. She could have cancelled the tea herself, but with Amelia’s behavior being unpredictable from one minute to the next, Lucretia felt it best to leave the matter up to the bereaved mother. She was unable to face her friend alone and brought Ida and Mabel along for . The front door to the Bartlette home, which was adorned in black crepe, was slightly ajar, allowing the women entry without ringing the doorbell and disturbing the delicate sensibilities of the mourner. The heavy drapes were partially drawn throughout the entire house, and the women’s mourning dress matched the dwelling’s mood. At least, Ida and Mabel would be out of mourning in six months, Lucretia would be out of mourning in a year, but Amelia would stay in mourning forever. Lucretia sighed. “Good afternoon, Gilbert,” Lucretia said as he met them in the front room. “Is your mother out of bed?” It was a ridiculous question on the surface, but Amelia had a habit of staying in bed for days when she was grieving, and if she did rise, she would sit in one place for hours. “She rose an hour ago. She should be ready.” Lucretia nodded. That’s something at least. “I made the tea and set out the sandwiches and biscuits.” Gilbert was able to boil water but lacked the dexterity necessary to pour it safely into a teapot, so Lucretia completed the task for him. A moment later, Amelia appeared at the bottom of the stairs, handkerchief in hand, and took her place at the dining room table without saying a word. She stared at Lucretia with hollow eyes as if she were looking through her. “Good day, Amelia,” Lucretia said, trying to keep her tone neutral and even.

“One hundred and thirty-six hours,” Amelia said, her words slurring slightly. Lucretia blinked. “Pardon?” “That’s how long Maeve has been gone.” Tears streamed down Amelia’s face. “And the child along with her.” “Amelia, we all are in mourning.” She leaned back in her chair, arms limp at her sides. “I know that. Don’t you think I know that?!” “Sometimes I wonder. We feel the pain of loss as much as you, Amelia, but you carry on as if you are the only one affected.” Lucretia poured tea, and all four women drank in unison. “Excuse me,” Amelia said, setting her cup down with such haste its contents sloshed over the side, “there’s something I must do.” The Stewards exchanged glances. What was so important Amelia had to do it mere minutes after sitting down? “She’s ringing Teddy,” Gilbert said from the threshold as if he read their thoughts. Lucretia stood when she heard Amelia’s voice in the kitchen. “Now you listen here to what I’m trying to tell you, Theodore,” Amelia said. “You failed.” Lucretia turned to Gilbert. “When your mother becomes obsessed, someone needs to stop her.” “She will not listen to me. Perhaps, as a peer, you could—” Amelia’s voice again bellowed from the kitchen. “Failed. You can’t produce one grandchild. Not one! At least Maeve was able to do that much, and then the sickness took her. It took her instead of you. Yes, it should have spared her and taken you. You’re worthless as a son. Worthless!”

Lucretia stormed out of the dining room, pushing the kitchen door open with enough force it banged against the butcher-block counter. Ida and Mabel exchanged glances and, cheeks burning, avoided eye with Gilbert. As the door flew open, Amelia didn’t so much as flinch and continued her tirade. Lucretia snatched the receiver and slammed it down before grabbing Amelia by the wrists and wrestling her to the floor. Amelia fought her but, being so frail, was easily overtaken. “What is wrong with you?” Lucretia said when they were both on the floor. “You can’t speak to him that way.” “Teddy is my son, and I’ll speak to him however I like.” Amelia’s expression was reminiscent of a rabid dog. “He failed. He failed.” “Teddy has not failed, Amelia.” “Yes, he has. And so has Gilbert and Victor, and so did Geoffrey. The bloodline is over. It’s dead.” “Your bloodline is not dead. You have plenty of nieces and nephews.” “No, not the Grays. The Bartlettes. Did you forget Gordon was adopted? He has no living family other than those children.” Amelia burst into tears as she struggled to release herself from Lucretia’s grip. “Amelia, get ahold of yourself. Why is continuing the Bartlette line so important?” “Because we live on through our children and grandchildren.” “Oh, Amelia.” Lucretia shook her head. “No amount of tears or name-calling or anything else can change things no matter how much one might want them to change.” Lucretia released Amelia’s wrists and sat beside her. “Listen to me. I won’t say this again. But any more of this behavior, and I will make certain it is you who is in the asylum, not Victor. Are you comprehending what I am implying?” Amelia’s eyes were wide. Her head slowly shook. “I need to control my

temper.” “You need to control many things, but your temper would be a good start. I want you to go speak to the minister of the word tomorrow. Ask him what you can do to help unburden your mind and soul. His son attended the academy, and Benjamin has a familiarity with him. I will inquire with the son to learn whether you have completed this task or not.” “Yes. I will pray more.” “You will go and ask, Amelia. Perhaps we should find you a Catholic priest as well. I’m sure there is one in Toronto. If you feel your family is cursed, he can exorcise the house. And you need some sunlight before you wither away. You’re pale as a vampire.” Amelia nodded again. “Exorcise the house and take a walk. Yes.” “Yes. Now you are understanding. Come have your tea before it gets cold. There is nothing worse than cold tea, except perhaps being committed to an insane asylum against your will. I have several character witnesses who will corroborate anything I say, including people in this very house.” Amelia nodded yet again. “Good.” Lucretia stood and left the room. Amelia followed.

DEAREST MABEL, Your most recent letter saddens me. Maeve was like a sister to us, both by marriage and by association. I will always her as the pesky little girl who would rather follow us about than play with Alice and Adelaide. Our little sisters were somehow not good enough for Maeve; she wanted to be a Steward. It was almost with the same zeal that I wanted to be a Bartlette. Tommy was not as brave as Geoffrey, however, , and it took him a bit longer to declare his intentions. He danced so nervously with Maeve at my wedding. My heart bleeds for Tommy. He will forever be my baby brother, the one reading flowery romantic prose while Walter and Freddie were reading mechanics and science books. He is a gentle soul, and I will need to take some time to craft him a letter. I cannot believe how painful it must be to lose a spouse and an unborn child all in one instant. I feel horrible for Teddy as well. He had the mumps as a child. Mrs. Bartlette knows this yet she tries to make him feel guilty ̶ I have never quite understood this ̶ but to do it publicly is shameful. From what Geoffrey once told me, their childhood was anything but happy, at least at home, so perhaps Teddy expects it. I don’t know. But why doesn’t he put her in her place? Some people say the war will be ending soon. I don’t know what to believe but I hope it is true. The war has gone on long enough and claimed too many lives. With love, Hettie

Alice’s Wedding Expectations

For months, Alice made notes and lists for her October 5 wedding, but today everything would be finalized. Assembled with her in the sitting room were Ida, Mabel, Dorothea, Aunt Lucy and Aunt Bertha. She had invited her mother, but she and Aunt Sadie were upstairs helping Adelaide pack for the normal school. Notebook open in her lap and pen in hand, Alice discussed each item on the checklist before marking it off. “My dress is complete. It’s upstairs. But I have an idea,” Alice said, a far off expression on her face. “I was thinking of adding a pink sash to the dress as a belt.” “A pink sash?” Ida said. “Mother will think you’ve lost your mind. the row she had with Hettie over her dress?” “I wasn’t there, so no. You weren’t either, as I recall. What is the crime in making the dress fashionable?” “Hettie wanted a fashionable dress.” “It’s autumn,” Dorothea said, “if you add a sash, it should be orange or brown.” “There isn’t going to be a sash,” Ida said. “Mother will nix the idea.” Lucy cleared her throat. “As your mother’s sister, I can confirm that she will not approve. It’s not worth the breach in wedding etiquette. Or the scandal. People will assume you are with child and attempting to hide it. You aren’t, Alice, dear, are you?” “No!” Alice felt warm from the implication. “I enjoy fashion. You all know that.” “Well, that’s a relief. What would be next? Pink shoes?” Bertha smiled and, as only a politician’s wife can, adeptly changed the subject. “What is your something old, something new, something borrowed and something blue?”

“My dress, veil, gloves and shoes are new.” And my undergarments, she thought, again feeling warm. “My something borrowed and something old are the same thing. One of Grandmother’s necklaces, the first she ever owned. I also borrowed Ida’s aquamarine earrings for my something blue. All I needed is a silver sixpence in my shoe. Father said he’ll polish up a nickel and a penny.” This seemed to placate the others, and Alice marked wardrobe off her list. Wardrobe was followed by food and flowers. No one commented on the food, but the subject of flowers again caused a stir among the guests. Alice was importing her flowers from Barbados instead of using an Ontario hot house. The flower grower had come highly recommended by Alice’s cousins, but such an extravagance during war, simply would not do. As some debated the merits of going foreign instead of domestic, Lucy began asking questions about the flowers and their type and care. Ida listened to the horticulture lesson and sighed. When she could not bear to hear one more word of this conversation, she said, “I am getting very tired of weddings.” Alice grimaced. “Pardon?” “I just don’t think it’s appropriate. The war’s been going on four years, Maeve’s dead, and we’re sitting here wearing surgical masks because we could infect and kill one another.” “Well, if you feel that way, why did you come?” Alice said, her grip tightening on her pen. “We’re here because we love you, but circumstances are not what they once were.” “And how are circumstances?” “I just told you. Were you not listening?” “So you and every other woman in this family can have a dream wedding but me, is that it?” “Not at all. But the circumstances.”

Alice threw up her arms, which sent her pen flying. It dripped ink from its nib as it did somersaults through the air and landed somewhere behind her. “The circumstances. The circumstances!” “Oh, Alice, don’t you ever think of anyone but yourself?” “This is my wedding!” Bertha stood. “There may not be a wedding if the epidemic continues. Public gatherings could be banned. It has happened in numerous places throughout the country.” “Banned?” “Yes, for fear of contagion.” Alice felt numb. “Contagion?” “Yes, the wedding might consist of only you, Mr. Viens, your witnesses and the minister of the word. A five minute ceremony with no reception.” “No reception?” Alice’s eyes grew wide, tears began flowing, and she jumped from her chair. Her notebook fell to the floor with a thud, and she fled upstairs. Her first instinct was to retreat to the girls’ bedroom, but Lucretia and Sadie were there with Adelaide. She stumbled to a halt in the corridor, but it was too late. The women had seen her, and they paused mid-task. Lucretia said, “It appears your meeting has fallen into disarray.” Alice entered the room, convinced she now would be forced to share her story. “Ida and I got into a row. Oh, but that’s not the worst of it. Aunt Bertha says if the flu gets any worse, public gatherings will be banned which means a minuscule wedding and no reception.” “Well, if anyone would know what the government might do, it’s Bertha.” Alice threw herself onto her bed, her arm landing in Adelaide’s suitcase. Adelaide pulled the suitcase away but remained silent.

“Dear, you have to realize,” Sadie said, “that some things are beyond your control. Masks have become a fashion accessory for many people now.” Alice looked up, knowing it was a polite lie. “I don’t want people wearing masks in my wedding photographs. I’ll only get married once.” “Unless you’re your sister Henrietta and you become a widow. So which is more important to you, Alice? A few hours of your life or a husband who lives a long life?” Alice was silent. “Do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?” Sadie said. Alice still said nothing. “She doesn’t understand,” Adelaide said, tossing a dress into her suitcase. “Typical Alice. She is the only thing important in this world.” The women returned to their task. Alice laid there, motionless. She bit her lip. “Y, y, yes,” she said, “I understand.” “Well, good,” Lucretia said. “Now get downstairs and finish what you were doing.” “But, Mother, the row with Ida.” “The row with Ida doesn’t matter much in the grand scheme of things either. We are family, and Lord knows, we’ve had our fair share of disputes.” “Yes, Mother.” Alice wiped away her tears, and a short while later, returned downstairs. After retrieving her notebook and pen, she took her seat as if nothing had happened. “So, as I was saying,” Alice said, “the photographer will arrive shortly after the ceremony to take a formal portrait.” “The guest list is complete?” Lucy said. “Are the Bartlettes coming?”

Alice glanced at her sisters. “They were invited but, because of recent events, they will no longer be attending. It’s all right. I’d probably do the same if the, um, circumstances were different.” Someone cleared her throat, and Alice called an end to her meeting, no longer excited about wedding planning and perhaps no longer excited about the wedding itself. As the group began to disperse, Adelaide descended the stairs carrying her suitcase. Lucretia and Sadie lugging a steamer trunk followed. The women set the luggage by the front door. “Walter will be by in the morning,” Lucretia said, “and he and Father will take you to the train station, then Father will accompany you to school.” “Well, I’ll see everyone again soon for Alice’s wedding,” Adelaide said. “Unless public gatherings are banned, in which case I’ll be home sooner because classes also will have been cancelled.” Alice treaded to her sister. “Don’t talk like that. Everything is going to be fine.” Adelaide focused on her with questioning eyes. “How do you know?” “I don’t know, but I’m trying to be optimistic.” She smirked. “If you excuse me.” Alice made her way up the stairs and to her bed, her tears returning.

–ENTRY IN ALICE’S DIARY– September 6, 1918 My wedding is a month away. I should be happy about it, but I am not. All surely will be ruined. I’m not concerned about my family or the weather. It’s this terrible illness. It threatens to ruin everything. My mother, aunt and sisters believe that I think of no one but myself, but that is not true. I fully understand that people are dying. I fully understand that a portion of my guests will arrive in mourning dress. I am not naïve and stupid. I understand the lesson Aunt Sadie was trying to teach me. I do not want to be a widow like Hettie. That is a terrible thing. I cannot imagine loving someone so deeply only to lose them much too soon. So I understand that long life is better than an afternoon. But I still want that afternoon. I still want to be able to walk down the aisle on Father’s arm and say my vows in front of friends and family. I still want to be able to celebrate the marriage with a reception. All I want to do is cry. We have endured nothing but four years of misery. Is it too much to ask for a respite? Is it too much to ask for the killing and dying to stop? Is it too much to ask that the sun may come out, and we can be happy again?

Relief, At Last

It was November 11 . Freddie’s 25 th birthday. Lucretia had thought of little else since rising that morning. “Lucretia, do you hear something peculiar?” Benjamin said, slowly setting down both his teacup and newspaper. Benjamin seemed far away, as if in a fantasy instead of across the table from her. She did not immediately answer. “No,” she said, her eyes on the tabletop, transfixed with thoughts of Freddie. “I hear something. I’m sure of it.” Benjamin opened the window, letting in a gust of crisp air that blew the curtain into the room with a flap. Bells were ringing in the distance. They didn’t sound like funeral peals, and it wasn’t the tolling of the hour. It was as if every bell in the city was ringing, clanging joyously as if in celebration. Celebration? He scratched his head. “Lucretia, I think the war ended.” The war ended? What a preposterous idea. How could the war end? It was never going to end. It was going to continue to torture them and destroy them. “What makes you say that?” Lucretia said, not shifting her gaze. Benjamin shook her shoulders. “Listen, Lucretia. Listen!” She finally forced herself to lift her head, and then she heard them. “I’ll go ring Steven. If anyone would know, he would.”

Lucretia stood in the kitchen, her hand so numb she could barely feel the phone’s receiver. “This morning,” Steven was saying, “five o’clock Paris time, an armistice was signed. It went into effect at 11 a.m. their time. Did you look at the clock, Lucretia, to see when the bells began here?” “Yes, it’s—” She squinted at the clock hanging beside the pantry. “It’s a quarter after 11 presently. It’s over. It’s finally over.” “Over?” Her voice was barely audible. “Yes, the war is finally over.” The numbness overcame her entire body, and she could barely speak. “Hettie and Freddie will be coming home?” “Yes, eventually. The government will have to make preparations for evacuation.” “Thank you, Steven,” Shaking, Lucretia hung up the receiver and burst into tears. Mrs. Baxter, who was at the counter near the sink peeling potatoes for that night’s dinner, said, “Mrs. Steward, whatever is the matter?” “Don’t you hear the bells?” “Yes, I hear them.” “They’re coming home.” The housekeeper squinted. “The bells?” Mrs. Baxter had never met Hettie or Freddie and had no idea what the fuss was about, but there was no time to explain. The tears were coming more urgently now. Lucretia wiped her eyes on her sleeve.

“I must tell Benjamin.” When Lucretia returned to the breakfast room, Benjamin was taking a sip of lukewarm tea. She bounded over to him and threw her arms around his neck. “You were right,” she said, scarcely believing the words as they left her lips. “It’s over. It’s truly over. Hettie and Freddie are coming home.” “Yes, yes, they are. They are!” Benjamin stroked Lucretia’s hair, hoping he wouldn’t wake up to discover it was a dream.

IN THE MORRIS HOUSE, the phone rang repeatedly. The housekeeper rushed into the kitchen, finally answering on the fourteenth ring, and ed the receiver to Ida. “Did you hear? Did you hear? Did you hear?” Mabel said on the other end of the line without bothering to say hello. Mabel’s tone and urgency reminded Ida of girlhood when there were secrets to be shared. Ida smiled. “Yes, I heard.” “Can you believe it?” Ida shook her head. “Not at all.” “Happy birthday to Freddie.” “Happy birthday, Freddie.” “What a wonderful birthday gift.” “An excellent gift.” The women laughed and then fell briefly into silence. “Hettie’s coming home,” Mabel said, her tone suddenly hushed and serious. “At last,” Ida said, releasing her grip on the receiver as she realized she was clenching it so tight her knuckles were white. “I’m sure Mother won’t let her forget she decided to stay.” “Surely, she won’t. Mother doesn’t let any of us forget anything.” Ida shook her head. “Have you spoken to anyone else yet?” “No. I will. I want to talk to everyone I know before Gardner gets home and complains I’m wasting time. I wanted to ring you first.” “Let’s go out and celebrate later,” Ida said, smiling as she relaxed against the wall, her head leaning against a cabinet door.

“Of course. Ring me after the girls get home.” Before Ida could answer, Mabel hung up the phone.

“ALICE. ALICE.” CEDRIC Viens entered his house carrying a bottle and calling for his new bride. “Alice, where are you?” A moment later, Alice descended the stairs wearing her most expensive dress. She stopped on one of the steps and threw back her head, holding it there as if she were posing for a portrait. “Darling, why are you wearing red?” he said. “Don’t look so shocked. Maeve will forgive me for not wearing black for a few hours. We must celebrate.” “You’ve heard then? I wanted to be the first to tell you.” Alice reached the bottom of the stairs and twirled. “It’s not like it’s a well-kept secret. For the first time in my life I’m envious of Adelaide. She says in Toronto there is parading in the streets.” Left hand still clenching the bottle, Cedric grabbed Alice, and they began dancing. “And in Barrie, there is dancing in the front hall,” he said. He spun her, and she eyed the bottle. “What is that?” “Wine, my dear. We’re going to make a toast.” She giggled at the prospect of having alcohol during prohibition and took off for the kitchen. Cedric ran after her and when they reached the room, popped the cork. Liquid sprayed out, and they laughed as she took two glasses out of the cupboard. She didn’t bother to ask where he had acquired wine, but it didn’t really matter. It was a time for glee not for scrutinizing others’ actions. Cedric raised his glass. “To the end of the war.” “To the end of the war.” They clinked glasses and drank.

AWOOGA. Awooga. Walter’s car blew as he drove down Cordington Street. When he reached his brother’s cottage, he pulled over to the curb, horn still blaring, and turned off the engine. Walter ran to the porch, face flushed, and pounded on the front door. Tommy answered, circles under his bloodshot eyes. He stood aside to allow Walter ittance but said nothing. “The war is over, Tommy,” Walter said before his expression turned serious. “Where is it?” “In my desk.” Walter entered the sitting room where he promptly began rummaging through the writing desk, throwing aside random papers and correspondence, until he came across an envelope addressed to Thomas Henry Steward. Was this it? Walter pulled out the letter and read, “You are required to report Nov. 18.” Yes, this was it. Walter vividly ed how Tommy had arrived unannounced at his door, nearly in tears, and with this letter in his hand. “I’ve been conscripted,” Tommy had said, voice wavering. “I can’t go to war, Walter. I’m still in mourning. I can barely concentrate for 10 minutes. I’ll get myself killed. I should have exempted myself when I had the opportunity. I can’t go to war, Walter.” “There must be a way around this,” Walter had answered, his own head swimming with possibilities, each more terrible than the previous. “Dorothea’s father knows plenty of people in the auto industry in Detroit. Let me make some phone calls and see what I can do. In the meanwhile, do not speak of this to anyone, especially Mother and Father.” “You want me to flee the country?” “Only for the duration of the war. It’ll be a moot point after that. Be prepared to leave at a moment’s notice. Not a word to Mother and Father. You’ll worry them excessively. I’ll handle it after you leave.”

Floorboards creaked behind him, and Walter snapped out of his reverie, once again in his brother’s study, the memory of their conversation fading. Tommy was standing in the threshold, his twitchy hands shoved in his pockets. “We’re going to do with this what it deserves,” Walter said, stuffing the letter back into its envelope and throwing it into the fireplace. “No one besides you and I will ever know about this letter, Little Brother.” They watched the letter burn, not once looking away as if shifting their gaze would prevent it from turning to ashes. “I can unpack my luggage now?” Tommy said once the letter was consumed. “Yes. I’ll ring my father-in-law and let him know there is no longer a need for you to cross the Detroit River.” “Thank God for that.” Tommy paused. “I truly appreciate everything you’ve done.” “It’s my job to protect you, Little Brother.” Tommy shrugged. “What about Freddie?” “What about him?” Walter said, the wrinkle in his brow deepening. “Did you do everything you could to protect him?” “Freddie doesn’t need protected. Besides if I protect him, then I need to protect Hettie.” The twinkle in Walter’s eyes returned. “And I only have so much free time.” “Hettie and Freddie are coming home.” “Yes, they are. Maybe we can start to rebuild our family again. Lord knows we need to heal and start anew.” “Thank God for that also,” Tommy said as he began to weep. Unlike the tears he had shed over the past several months, however, these were cathartic tears, tears of relief that finally, at last, the family’s and the nation’s

long struggle was at an end.

1919

O, Brave New World

“F or she's a jolly good fellow, for she's a jolly good fellow. For she's a jolly good fellow,” the crowd paused, “and so say all of us!” Applause erupted in the church hall, and Lucretia, not quite believing her mother was 80, watched from afar as Rose blew out her birthday candles. “Mother looks radiant,” she said to Sadie who stood beside her, a cup of punch in her hand. “Yes. She’s lived a full life.” Sadie smiled and took a sip. “Will Hettie be here?” “No. She’s in Halifax waiting for that mysterious new husband of hers, Mr. Alfred Taylor, to be demobed.” “Why is she waiting there? A woman in her condition should be with her family.” “She’s with one of the other nursing sisters from the clearing station. Apparently an orphan without any living relation, and Hettie feels obligated, out of friendship, to stay with her.” Sadie nodded. “And Freddie?” “Still in Europe.” Sadie started talking about what a shame it was the children would miss the party, but Lucretia was no longer listening. Her eyes were on the crowd, but her mind was focused on a different birthday celebration – the last one she had before the war. Benjamin had taken her to the bay for a picnic. Not long after they arrived, she scanned their surroundings and was pleasantly surprised to see their children approaching. They were walking elbow-to-elbow, eldest to youngest. Alice and Adelaide were still in short skirts with long hair while Hettie, the newlywed, was wearing a crown of flowers and carrying a nosegay of primroses. Freddie was teasing her, and they were laughing. Behind them came Lucretia’s children-inlaw. Dorothea was carrying a box that contained a chocolate birthday cake.

Little did they know it would be the final summer of innocence, the final summer of unspoiled youth, and that their lives would be forever marred by worry, war, hardship, disease and death. “Do you my friend Madelaine?” Sadie said. “Hum?” Lucretia said, her mind still focused on that July day in 1914. “Mrs. Madelaine Porter. Her son, Jack, has just gotten home, so I think more of the troops will be home soon.” “I imagine.” “I’m surprised your friend, Mrs. Bartlette, isn’t here. Didn’t you invite her?” “I didn’t want to overwhelm Mother. I felt there would be enough family here,” Lucretia said, unable to reveal the real reason was because she didn’t want Amelia there and that the friendship was in tatters, perhaps beyond repair. “Mother wouldn’t have minded. Rose Goodwin can handle anything.” The past four years were an outlier, Lucretia knew. Her life was easy and always had been easy, much easier than her ancestors’ or Amelia’s lives ever had been. Was it too much to ask that her children’s lives would be easy as well? Their lives had started out that way. They had everything Benjamin and she could afford to give them – a comfortable home, nice clothing, education, the opportunity to pursue hobbies, leisure time – and yet that wasn’t enough to save them from the cruel world. It had not been enough! Sadie nudged her sister’s shoulder. “Lucretia, are you listening?” “No, my mind is elsewhere. I apologize.” Lucretia walked away. She wanted to run to her mother’s side like a child, crying and seeking comfort. She wanted to confide how much she wished Hettie, Freddie, Geoffrey and Victor had never left for Europe, how she wished Maeve were still alive so Tommy needn’t suffer. Four children would never be the same. Two would never walk the earth again. And for what?

She narrowly missed bumping into Mabel and her Brownie. “Mother, I’d like to get a photograph of Grandmother with her children.” Now was not a time for photography. Couldn’t Mabel see her mother was on the verge of a breakdown? Mabel was now nearly 29, not much older than Lucretia had been when Mabel was born, and her hair was styled in ringlets that must have taken hours to do. Lucretia marveled at how confident and self-assured her daughter looked. Mabel ushered Lucretia to the head table, where Rose was enjoying a slice of cake, and lined her aunts, uncles and mother up behind her grandmother. Three siblings were missing, Lucretia thought with a sigh, Oscar being the most recent departure. Rebecca had been dead for more than 30 years, and Jeremy much longer. Rose had outlived three children; Rose’s mother, Claire, had outlived seven. Most died of diseases that now were prevented through sanitation or vaccination or treated using medication. Oscar could have been saved with antitoxin if only they had listened to Ida. When he announced his enlistment, Freddie had said they were saving lives not taking them. This was why Hettie and Freddie found the medical corps so appealing. There was pride and honor in saving lives, and how brave they were to have done it. Mabel snapped the photo, and Lucretia resumed mingling with the crowd of Rose’s descendants, nieces, nephews and remaining siblings. Collectively, they had seen much, experienced much and suffered much, but they were stronger for it. Outside the window, the Union Jack was fluttering in the breeze. It was not only Great Britain’s flag but also Canada’s, although the Canada Hettie and Freddie left would not be the same one to which they would return. There had been conscription riots and political discord. It was riddled with unemployment and crippling national debt. But there were positive changes as well. The nation had a sense of purpose, and it had earned its place on the world stage through hard work, sweat, tears and blood. “‘O wonder!” Lucretia said to herself, quoting The Tempest. “‘How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous mankind is! O brave new

world that has such people in’t.’” The future was unknown, but they would weather it together, and they would succeed. Lucretia was certain of it.

THANK YOU FOR READING Those Left Behind! I truly appreciate you taking the time. If you enjoyed reading it or discovered it valuable in any way, why not let the world know? Other readers use reviews to find books that match their interests. In addition, I would appreciate it. I read each review and incorporate the to improve my writing. Thanks again, and I look forward to reading your review. Sincerely, Melina Druga P.S. If you’re interested in ing my review team, please visit www.melinadruga.com .

A Sneak Peek of Adjustment Year

Available April 2021

Chapter 1 February 1919 The old world was dead , never to return. That much was certain. Nevertheless, it was difficult to comprehend that the war was over, truly over, and life would resume again. Yet how was that possible? The Great War ravaged for four and a half years. Sixteen million lives were snuffed out by battles, bombardments, starvation, genocide, disease and drowning. Cities were destroyed, empires crumbled, and monarchs disposed. Ethnic groups asserted their independence, and Canadian women gained the right to vote. Henrietta “Hettie” Taylor was keenly aware of all of this as she dressed for the final time on European soil. Today, she was a nursing sister in the Canadian Army Medical Corps. In 12 days, she would be a civilian for the first time since August 1914. What did being a civilian mean postwar? It opened up a world of possibilities, simultaneously comforting and frightening. Turning sideways, she rubbed her hands over her abdomen and was pleased to see her pregnancy, now in its fourth month, was barely visible in the mirror. Very few people knew she was expecting, but this pregnancy was her ticket home, an almost immediate demobilization. “Are you ready? We need to leave shortly,” a voice said from the threshold. When Hettie was demobilized, medical corps officials said she could not be sent home alone. She required a chaperone, and it must be a woman, which ruled out the obvious choices – her husband or her brother. Everyone expected her to select her dear friend Charlotte Gates or the casualty clearing station’s matron, but instead Hettie chose Elizabeth Barrow. Charlotte was Hettie’s confidant, but Bessie deserved going home more. “Yes,” Hettie said, “but I must nibble on something or I’m afraid I’ll get seasickness.”

Bessie’s face was bright and optimistic, the complete opposite of Hettie’s. “I’ll make certain we have plenty of cabin biscuits to curb any nausea.” Hettie smiled and quickly threw her remaining unpacked items into her steamer trunk. She then fixed her eyes on the English sky, the only part of her mother’s ancestral homeland she could see for this vantage point, and attempted to commit it to memory. Soon this view would be replaced by an expanse of cobalt ocean. That should be a relief, but instead it produced the opposite emotion. How could she leave the killing fields and go home to be a wife and mother as if nothing ever happened? Hettie did not acknowledge the two hotel employees who carried her truck out of the room. Her attention still on the English sky, she was startled by Bessie’s coins rattling in her chatelaine. “It’s time to go, Hettie,” Bessie said while she tipped the men. Hettie pried her eyes from the view and briefly felt faint. How could she leave Europe after everything she’d seen and experienced? “Our work is finished here,” Bessie said as if she read Hettie’s thoughts.

THE SUN OCCASIONALLY peaked through the clouds, brightening the sky, but the wind whipped with late winter intensity, piercing their clothing as if they weren’t wearing any. Hettie pulled on the front of her coat in a manner that implied tightening the garment could make her warmer. “You could call them both Fred,” Bessie said after they exited the car at the wharf. “No, I couldn’t, and don’t you either.” Alfred was not a Fred, and neither was Frederick. Neither had the personality for that moniker. Not that it mattered. Both men were in the crowd somewhere, waiting. But where? Nearly everyone busying about the wharf was in uniform, and the scene was reminiscent of when the Canadian Expeditionary Force arrived in October 1914, naively optimistic the war would be over by Christmas. The keen difference was that now all optimists were long gone, replaced by mentally scarred individuals haunted by the years they’d never get back. Hettie swallowed the lump in her throat. Their entire time in Europe had been characterized by long separations punctuated by reunions, and no one ever knew when would be the final reunion. Today’s reunion would be followed by yet another separation of unknown duration. Bessie grabbed Hettie’s hand. “Come along. We need to find our berth.” Hettie said nothing, her chest growing increasingly tighter as they jostled their way through the soldiers and dockworkers. After several minutes, they spotted a woman waving a handkerchief. It was Charlotte, Hettie’s brother and husband standing beside her. Bessie waved back. Hettie merely blinked. Charlotte elbowed her way through the crowd, her cheeks red from the wind, and squeezed the women. “My dear friends, what an exciting day. I think I’m as excited as you that you’re going home.”

Home? Hettie thought. Is it still home? The last time Hettie set eyes on Barrie, she and her first husband, Geoffrey Bartlette, were at the train station. Geoffrey will never return to Barrie, and everything back home seems different and strange. Her siblings Mabel and Walter were now parents, Alice married, Tommy a widower, and Adelaide was away attending Toronto Normal School. Father retired. Uncle Steven lost re-election for town councilor when antiLiberal sentiments took over the country in 1917, and he was again practicing law. Only Mother and Ida seemed unchanged. Meanwhile, poor Freddie unfairly would be stuck in Europe while she was set free.

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Also by Melina Druga

A Tale of Two Nations 1914 1915 1916 1917 (Coming Soon) 1918 (Coming Soon) A Tale of Two Nations: Canada, U.S. and WWI (Coming Soon)

Enterprising Women Enterprising Women: Practical Advice for First Time Entrepreneurs Enterprising Women: A Practical Guide to Starting Your First Business

WWI Trilogy Angel of Mercy (Coming Soon) Those Left Behind (Coming Soon)

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Watch for more at Melina Druga’s site.

About the Author

Creating fictional people since 1989. Most kids have an active imagination. My imagination has stayed strong into adulthood, and I’ve funneled that creativity into a successful writing career. I write history, both fiction and nonfiction, because although your school history classes may have been boring, the past is not. My goal is to bring the past to life in all its myriad of colors. I write with the assistance of a furry writing buddy – AKA the family cat who often sits with me while I work. When not researching, writing or editing, I’m wife to a wonderful man who also is my copy editor and mother to a budding baker/guitarist/architect. The portion of my brain that isn’t filled with fictional people is filled with song lyrics. I listen to hard rock daily and find entertainment, inspiration and comfort in it. Namaste. I practice yoga daily for a balanced body and mind. But, no, I can’t do a headstand. Another way I express my creativity is through the camera lens. I especially enjoy nature and architecture photography. I cook most meals from scratch. I’m a healthy cooking advocate, much to my husband’s chagrin. Read more at Melina Druga’s site.

About the Publisher

Sun Up Press publishes both fiction and nonfiction titles.