Authors: Lucy Lambert
I wanted to tell him that I had only slept about two hours the previous night, and that I really wanted some rest. But then some part of my mind actually thought about what he'd said. I imagined Jeff over there, his ears constantly assaulted by rough yells and bombshell bursts. What harm could it do to speak with the soldier for a few minutes?
So I opened my eyes, took a breath, and smiled at him. His eyes strayed down for a moment, and I pulled the shawl more tightly about my shoulders. Was it really a woman's
voice
that he wanted?
"Well, I suppose I can't deny you that small comfort," I said, offering my hand.
He took it, a wolfish grin splitting his lips. He had feral green eyes that glinted as he pulled my hand up to his face.
"Captain Lawrence Marsh, at your service.
But please, call me Larry," he said, right before leaving a moist kiss on my knuckles.
A blush crawled up my neck and cheeks. A man's mouth shouldn't feel that warm, and I didn't like that look in his eyes at all. It might have been wiser to yawn and profess how tired I felt, but he'd trapped me. I certainly couldn't just stand and leave; all the other seats were taken and the train sped along its tracks so quickly that the landscape was little more than a green and blue blur in the corner of my eye.
"Eleanor Winters. Pleased to meet you, Captain..."
"Larry," he interjected. I nodded, hoping that I'd managed to pull the muscles of my face into something resembling a smile.
"So, what regiment are you with?" he asked.
I laughed lightly, "Oh, sir, I'm not joining the army."
He tutted, then stroked at the ends of his mustache with his thumb and forefinger as he regarded me.
"A shame, truly. It would be such a boost to the morale of the boys to have you out there. Though, the trenches are no place for a lady. All that barbed wire would have your dress torn to ribbons in moments!"
"If you must know, Larry, I managed to get hold of a ticket out to Halifax to see my fiancé, Jeff, off. He's only just completed his training, and he's about to get shipped over."
He didn't need to know that Jeff wasn't yet my fiancé. But we may as well have been, with his promise of a ring. The fire glinting in the captain's eyes didn't seem to dim, and he smiled at me again. His teeth were large, square, and a brilliant white. A rich young man with a commission, used to getting what he wanted, I could tell.
"How very loyal and loving of you, Eleanor. My, I wish I had a girl like you waiting to see me off. Why, I think I'd smuggle you aboard ship as a laundry girl! Say, tell me about this Jeff so that I can justify my jealousy! He's short and chubby, right, with the baby fat still weighing on his cheeks?"
I did smile honestly at him then. "No, captain..."
"Larry."
"Yes... My Jeff is tall, and he doesn't have a spare bit of fat on him. I imagine even less, now that he's been through training."
Lawrence laid his arm across the rest, his fingers coming dangerously close to mine. His nails were clean and clipped, the fingers themselves elegantly long. My hand pulled back from his and he laughed.
"Truly a lucky man, your Jeff.
Do you know which ship he'll be on? I'll have to find him and promote him to corporal on the spot. If he's been so able to win you over completely, he deserves it! Oh, he'll have to leave on the Olympic if you're arriving on this train," he said, pulling a silver-backed pocket watch on a gold chain out of his jacket and looking at it.
I leaned towards him and he smiled at our closeness.
"Why is that?" I asked.
It felt like someone had mixed some bubbling fluid into my stomach that left a sick tingle in my body.
"Well, the Mauretania disembarks tonight. All the men on this train are berthed on the Olympic, which will leave Halifax harbor under cover of night tomorrow evening. Why, Jeff is on the Olympic, isn't he?"
I couldn't look at this pretty rake anymore. He made a sound of concern as I turned to the window and tried to fix my eyes on some trees in the distance across a field. The ground by the tracks moved so quickly that I knew even a glance at it would make me sick.
"Yes," I said, "He's on the Olympic... He has to be..." I said, whispering the last few words.
"Good to hear, good to hear! It would be such a shame if he'd already departed and you made such a long trip to see him," Lawrence said. Even though I wasn't looking at him, I could hear his smile. I could see him in my mind's eye, stroking at his mustache as he examined me.
Dread weighed in my stomach like a lead ball. Ushers came through the crowded aisle pushing carts laden with sandwiches while more men followed behind, topping up the soldiers' canteens from sweating pitchers of water.
Lawrence offered me a plate, which I waved away. He told me I could drink from his canteen if I grew thirsty, and I thanked him.
About two hours later, the train made a stop in Toronto, the station buzzing with activity as even more soldiers climbed into the cars. I considered getting out there. With the money Marie had given me, I could easily afford a taxi back to Kitchener. I'd give her the remainder, and pay her any amount I spent out of my wages.
I could go back and return to my job. I just kept thinking about what Lawrence had said. He wouldn't lie about when the ships left, would he? What advantage could that possibly lend him?
But suppose that Jeff had boarded the Mauretania. He'd be gone, out on the Atlantic, for hours by the time my train arrived in Halifax. I'd save myself a great deal of time, grief, and money by stepping off the train at that moment, in Toronto. Marie would understand.
Oh, why couldn't Jeff have sent a telegram with what ship he was boarding, and exactly when he was leaving? He was an impulsive man, something I both loved and hated about him. At that moment, the needle definitely edged over into "hated" territory.
But if I returned, I'd be a failure. My grand adventure would be cut short, and I'd probably never see anything beyond the borders of Ontario unless I could convince Jeff to take us somewhere nice for our honeymoon.
I gripped the armrests tightly as the men blew their whistles outside, calling for the final few stragglers to climb aboard. Then the train gave a great snort and we lurched forward.
"It's okay, Eleanor," Lawrence said, putting a big, warm hand over mine. I could see the reflection of his face next to mine. He still smiled.
"I'll make sure to get us some better seats when we change trains in Montreal. Have you ever been there? No?
Quel dommage
."
I didn't pull my hand out from his right away, and he curled his fingers around mine. In that moment, I felt so scared that I took comfort from whatever source I could. That lead ball in my stomach swelled in size, and the back of my throat burned as the train accelerated away from the station, taking me farther and farther from home with every beat of my heart.
For supper, the ushers served hot roast beef sandwiches. My stomach had been growling for hours, and my tongue felt so parched that I'd even considered asking Lawrence for a sip from his canteen. Saliva bathed my tongue as the smell of the hot beef wafted through the car. All the men quieted as well, and some of them openly smacked their lips.
Lawrence watched me eat. I tore great mouthfuls of the sandwich with each bite.
"I've never seen a lady more ravenous in my life. Are you sure you're all right, Eleanor? You can tell me if you're having any problems you know. Is there something going on that I should know about?" he said. He scratched idly at a bit of cloth that had peeled back from the armrest.
I wished desperately that there was someone nearby I actually felt comfortable speaking to. Why couldn't Marie have come? Had she known what it was going to be like on the train? She'd be able to commiserate with me about my worries, about Jeff being gone by the time I reached Halifax.
Lawrence nibbled at his sandwich, dabbing at his mustache with a kerchief white as virgin snow after every bite. It was his eyes that were truly ravenous, though. They watched me with that wolfish glint. If I turned away to glance out the window to see if the lake was still in view, I felt those eyes try to bore a hole through me.
He didn't talk to me as much when I ate, so I forced myself to slow down. I'd forgotten how sick I felt, and my stomach gave me a rude reminder. This pleased me, as it made taking dainty, nibbling bites of the sandwich much easier. I hadn't noticed how dry the meat was when they gave it to me.
"Would you like some?" Lawrence said, tossing his head back to take a long drag from his canteen. He made a satisfied noise as he brought the metal mouth away from his lips.
"No," I said, not wanting to owe this man any favors. The bread parched my mouth, leaving my tongue a dry, wriggling thing that thumped and curled behind my teeth as I forced myself to swallow each bite.
More men came by later to clear the dishes away. The sun had started its descent some time before. Its dying light left pink ribbons on the underbellies of the clouds, and the more distant farm houses and trees were little more than silhouettes. The train made as few stops as possible, only slowing to take on water and additional fuel.
With so many people in the compartment, the smell of sweat grew stronger until Lawrence bellowed out an order for the boys to open their windows. His sudden shout startled me, and his eyes twinkled as he apologized through a smile at my jerking reaction.
It was an exercise in discomfort, sitting in that car. The fresh evening air blew away the smell of sweat, and the lingering odor of roast beef. But it chilled me no matter how tightly I pulled my shawl about my shoulders.
Some strands of my hair pulled free of the bun I'd put them in and lashed me about the cheeks and neck, or tickled at the tip of my nose. The vibration of the train
started a dull ache in my thighs that wouldn't leave no matter how I stretched.
At some point later in the night, I remember staring up at the patchwork stars overhead as my eyelids grew heavy and finally dropped down in front of my vision. I don't know how I managed any sleep, cramped as I was.
But it was dreamless, and destined to be brief.
Sometime in the dead of night, the train pulled up to the station in Montreal. My body had become so used to the motion of the car on the tracks that its absence woke me. It was just as well, as Lawrence grabbed onto the overhead rack, pulled himself to his feet, and bellowed for all the men to get ready to switch trains.
"No, please..." I said, still groggy, "I can get those, there's no need..."
"Nonsense!
What kind of gentleman soldier would I be if I didn't take a lady's bags for her? Oh! Quite the heft to these. Packing for a long trip?" Lawrence said, my two suitcases both clutched in one of his hands, his other occupied grasping the straps of his duffel bag.
I had hoped to change trains and give him the slip, but I could think of no excuse for getting my bags back that would earn me more than a snort and another "Nonsense!" from my new admirer.
A young soldier wrestled his bag out onto the station deck and turned to help me down the two steps to the platform. My legs shook beneath me, my body still thinking that I hurtled down the tracks.
"Thank you," I said, smiling at him. He couldn't have been more than eighteen. He blushed in return.
"Yes, private, thank you. Now be off!" Lawrence said.
The bite in his voice sent the young soldier to stiff attention for a moment before throwing a salute and beating a hasty retreat with his duffel bag thrown over one shoulder.
Steam hissed from the train as though it breathed a great sigh of relief for a few moments rest. The moon projected a ghostly halo through the new cloud as it glared down at the proceedings.
The new train waited across the platform for us. Soldiers' conversations hummed indiscernibly. I suspect that many of them had received a rude awakening, and had dredged themselves only as far out of sleep as was required to walk across the platform, board their new car, and fall into another slumber.
I had felt tired myself when I first stepped off, but the coolness of the air left me wide awake and miserably cold.
"Wait a moment!" Lawrence said from behind me.
I turned to see him put the bags down on the platform. He removed his jacket and hung it over my shoulders. A protest stalled on my lips when I felt the warmth his body had left in the fabric.
"Thank you," I said, fully intending on returning it as soon as we took our seats in the new car.
A few of the taller buildings in Montreal were visible and lit by moonlight. How many in that city slept while these soldiers trekked towards the sea? How many French Canadian soldiers had we picked up at this place? I tried to focus my attention on the conversations of various groups of soldiers as we walked across the platform, and I thought I caught a few snatches of French.
French might as well have been Greek to me, for all my ability to speak or understand it at all. I resolved to make Jeff take me to Paris for our honeymoon, and I would do my best to learn enough of it to order myself something nice to eat there.
A few of the soldiers called to me or whistled. I was the only woman on the platform, it seemed. When I heard what a few of them said, I blushed.