Authors: Noelle Carle
Sam approached him
now. “Chap?”
Tom Hudson lifted his
eyes and Sam read in them genuine interest. He was a compact and energetic
man, with a balding head and wide shoulders. He usually wore a beard, he told
them. He’d had it from the age of fifteen and only shaved it off when the army
made him. His wife had never seen him without it and almost turned him away at
the door when he went home on leave. “I gave her such a fright,” he’d said,
laughing at his joke, his green eyes crinkling at the corners. The rest of his
body was covered with a thick carpet of hair, which he claimed was like wearing
armor. Setting aside a letter he was writing, he patted the cot beside him.
“You should be
getting some rest, Eliot,” he admonished. “Too excited after seeing your
friend?”
“I guess so,” Sam
answered. “That sure was a surprise. He worked with my dad and me; said he
came from Bath and told us he was seventeen. I didn’t think he could have
been.”
Tom was quiet and
Sam’s voice died away. Finally he said, “Can you pray about something for me?”
“Sure.”
“I’m worried about
Alison. I haven’t heard from her for a long time. And,” he shrugged and
finished lamely, “I’m worried.”
“But didn’t you ask
your friend? You said he was from there.”
Sam squinted.
“That was odd too. He acted like he couldn’t remember who she was even, and I
know he was not confused about her. I used to worry that he’d try to make her
forget me. I’d see him watching her sometimes.”
“You still writing
to her?”
“Whenever I can. I
just feel like something’s wrong. Like she doesn’t want to write me
anymore…maybe,” he finished slowly. “And I used to get a couple of letters a
week from her. I still get letters from home, and Tim gets stuff from his
mother all the time. And…and my family hasn’t mentioned her in their letters
much for ages. It’s like she’s disappeared!”
Tom studied Sam for a
moment then he nodded. “I’d be happy to pray.” And he clapped his hand on
Sam’s shoulder and began, surprising Sam who quickly closed his eyes. “Father
in heaven, I ask thee to comfort your boy Sam Eliot here. We know that your
eyes are on his girlfriend right now, just as you are watching over us. I ask
thee to send word from her soon, so he will know the assurance of her love.
And we thank Thee, amen.
Sam opened his eyes,
feeling more encouraged than he had in days.
The Old Unhappy Days
By December Alison
knew she was carrying a child. It was confirmed for her when for the second
month in a row she missed her monthly flow. She had been spared any sickness,
but she felt miserably tired, unusually irritable and unbearably sad.
One morning the week
before Christmas, both the freezing temperature in the room and the dark
morning enticed Alison to stay in the cocoon of warm blankets. But Aunt Pearl
was already up downstairs. She knew it was time to get ready for school. She
quickly dressed in the darkness, shivering the whole time as she pulled on
woolen stockings, a warm flannel chemise and slip, followed by a blouse, a
woolen jumper and a sweater.
The kitchen was warm
and glowing in the yellow lamplight this dim morning. Everyone seemed drowsy.
The conversation was minimal as the doctor perused the paper and Aunt Pearl
began the week’s baking. Remick ate with enthusiasm, but Davey picked at his
oatmeal; no doubt, Alison thought, missing the sugar he usually sprinkled
liberally on top of it. Owen sat with his chin in one hand, reading the back
of his father’s paper and stirring the cream into his mug of coffee. As he
stirred, his spoon clinked against the mug, over and over.
Alison felt a wave of
despair wash over her. This family would be changed forever. No matter what
the truth was, her reputation would be ruined. In such a close and insular
town, everyone would know sooner or later that she was with child. And people
liked to believe the worst about others, even if they were told the truth. Her
future was bleak and she felt like crying. She snapped at Owen instead. “Will
you stop that noise?”
Everyone turned to
stare at her in surprise. “Daughter?” questioned her father. “What noise?”
Alison burst into
tears, muttering, “I’m sorry,” as she pounded back up the stairs to her icy
bedroom, scaring the cat who stalked indignantly behind the stove.
Pearl wiped her hands
on her apron, exchanging a blank look with her brother. Alison was rarely
churlish and even more rarely cried. “I’ll see what’s wrong.”
Owen asked tensely,
“Was I making a noise?”
“Vapors,” Remick
muttered, grinning at Davey’s open mouth and curious look.
Owen snorted and
looked relieved and Davey laughed aloud. Then he questioned his father,
“What’s vapors?”
Upstairs, Alison
clung to her aunt, unable to speak coherently for several minutes. Pearl
smoothed her black curls and rocked her back and forth, murmuring to her like
she used to when Alison was younger, missing her mother.
As the swell of
emotions subsided somewhat Alison drew away, wiping at her wet cheeks.
“Whatever can it be,
darling, that’s got you so upset?” Pearl implored, her arm still around her
niece’s shaking shoulders.
Alison was still, her
eyes closed, as she gathered her courage. Her lips trembled and tears continued
to stream down her cheeks. When she opened her eyes to finally look at her
aunt, they held such a depth of grief that Pearl drew a breath and held it.
“I’m going to have a
baby.”
The words hung in the
air as Pearl absorbed the shock. Her shoulders slumped and the breath escaped
her in a gasp.
Alison continued,
speaking almost incoherently through her sobbing. “The day that he left,
Aubrey Newell took me up by the fort to show me a…a sculpture that he did.”
Pearl’s arm tightened around her shoulder and her face lost its color as Alison
continued. “It looked like Sam, like his face, and I told Aubrey how beautiful
it was. I hugged him, to thank him, then…” Her voice faded to a whisper.
“Then he was kissing me and saying he loved me. I kissed him back, Aunt Pearl,
but then, I didn’t want anything else to happen, but he was so strong! I
couldn’t stop him!”
Pearl blinked
rapidly, her breath coming in angry puffs now. She grasped Alison’s
shoulders. “Where did he go? Do you know?”
Alison shook her
head. “He was going to join the military. I don’t know where he went. Why?
Why does it matter now?”
“He must be held
responsible! What he did was wrong!” Pearl replied vehemently.
“No, no, no!” Alison
cried. “No one must know! I would die if people knew what happened. I want
to die anyway.” She collapsed sideways on her pillow, fresh sobs surging
through her.
Pearl slipped to her
knees, pressing her arm around Alison. “Oh, Alison, no! You mustn’t think
that way, darling!”
Alison moaned,
covering her eyes with her hands. “My life is ruined. What’ll I do, Aunt
Pearl?”
“First of all, we
must find out if it’s true. Your father must examine you.”
“No,” Alison wailed.
“I don’t want him to know!”
“Alison, listen to
me. Your father must know.” Pearl pried Alison’s fingers away from her face
and gazed at her intently. “You cannot keep this a secret from him.”
Her breathing
stilled. Her cheeks were flushed despite the cold and her hair lay in masses
of curls framing her face. Pearl thought she never looked more beautiful or so
fragile. In a thin bleak voice she asked, “How can I tell my father such a
thing?”
Pearl stroked her
face. “I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
Alison stayed home
from school that day. Aunt Pearl sent notice via Owen that Alison was not
feeling well. When her father heard her say this, he wiped his mouth with his
napkin and rose. “I’d better see what’s wrong.”
Pearl stopped him
with her hand on his arm. “No, Brother.”
He looked startled at
her refusal. “Why ever not?” he laughed.
Pearl’s brow drew
together as she thought. “It’s…it’s of a womanly nature.”
Daniel Granger gazed
at his sister a moment, as if decided whether to believe her. “I see. She’s
never had any difficulties before.” After a long pause he added, with a brief
smile, “I expect it’s nothing you don’t know how to fix. And I’ve got to go
see to the pastor’s wife. She’s still not able to hold down much food. Not
that I can help too much, I guess. Did you make up some more of that ginger
tea?”
Pearl nodded and
said, “It’s in the medicine cupboard.”
He pulled his
suspender straps up over his shoulders, slid his jacket on and went on his way.
As soon as all the
boys were gone, Pearl hurried back upstairs. Alison was still curled on her
bed, still crying, but quietly now, as if the sorrow was seeping out of her.
“Come down to your father’s office,” Pearl beckoned. “It’s warm there. I’ll
examine you.”
Pearl closed and
locked the door of the examining room as Alison took off everything but her
under garments. Where she’d been chilled to the bone up in her room, she now
felt a dreadful heat. She lay down on the soft leather of the exam table,
praying she was wrong.
“How many cycles have
you missed?”
“Two,” Alison replied.
“I should have had my second last week.”
Pearl lit the lamp
that hung on the wall, then she went to the other side of the table. “I need
to…” she stopped and sighed quickly. “I need to look at your chest and I’ll
need to feel your abdomen.”
“I know. It’s all
right.” Alison unbuttoned her chemise.
Aunt Pearl studied
her chest for a moment. “Are you sore?”
Alison nodded. “Just
like right before my cycle, only all the time.”
Pearl’s gaze traveled
downwards. “Have you felt sick at all, especially when you wake up?”
Shaking her head,
Alison said nothing.
Pearl examined in the
smooth flat belly between the thin hipbones. She noted with the dismay the
darkened line that extended from her belly button on down. It was a phenomenon
she’d seen in most expectant mothers, although she had no idea why it
happened. Finally she placed her hands on Alison and felt deeply around the
womb. Alison grunted but said nothing. Pearl knew the signs; she’d helped her
brother with so many expectant mothers. She should barely be able to feel the
womb at all from the outside. But Alison was already swelling with the
presence of a child.
Alison knew as Pearl
slowly drew up her pantaloons and tied them that her fears were confirmed.
Pearl was so gentle and quiet, holding herself carefully. As Alison sat up,
buttoning her chemise, then hopping down to pull on the remainder of her
clothing, she asked, “I was right, wasn’t I?”
Pearl nodded, and
then she burst into tears, covering her careworn face with her thin hands.
Alison pulled her close, numb now that she knew the truth. “What’ll I do?” she
asked.
Pearl gave no answer.
After school Mrs.
Reid walked out to the Granger’s house with Davey and Owen. “She’ll be wanting
to know what she missed,” she told Davey. “I know how she hates to get behind
in her work.”
The teacher was
flushed with the cold when Doctor Granger opened the front door for her. “I
think it feels like snow, don’t you, Doctor? My head is telling me something’s
on the way.”
“Your head, Mrs.
Reid?”
“Oh, aye. It always
feels like it’s stuffed with wool before we get precipitation. I am my own
barometer.” And she laughed a quick chuckle.
Davey and Owen
slipped past her, heading for the kitchen and the bread they smelled.
Mary stood in the
doorway. “I wonder if I might see Alison. I understand she is unwell.”
Dan nodded. “She’s
upstairs in her room. I don’t believe she’s got anything contagious.”
“Oh, I’m not
worried. I can show myself up, thank you, Doctor.”
He offered, “Let me
take your coat, Mrs. Reid. She’s in the room at the top of the stairs.”
She just smiled and
thanked him as she moved across the large front room to the stairway. When she
tapped on the door Alison’s voice questioned, “Who is it?”
“It’s Mrs. Reid, dear. May I come in?”
There was no answer, but Mary heard movement within. After a moment
the door opened slightly. Mary could see one swollen and bloodshot eye.
“Dear, please let me come in. I must speak with you,” she urged.