July and August moved by in a blur of activity. Annie was kept busy with weeding the large garden, canning vegetables as they became ripe, and collecting berries and fruit and jam making. If she never saw another strawberry it would be too soon. August brought more heat and humidity and no chance to sneak away for a quick dip in the river. If it wasn’t Hetty, it was Mother with their eagle eye on her. It seemed every time Annie thought to slip away someone suddenly found a chore that needed doing right this minute.
The wheat and oats were ripening, the long stems rippling in the hot breeze while the heat waves shimmered over the fields. The brilliant greens of early summer merged into the gold and yellow of late August. Father still employed the Richardson brothers to help with the harvest, but Annie was forbidden to even take water or food out to the fields where she was not allowed to go no matter how much her help might be needed. She often caught glimpses of them as she worked in the garden and wished for the opportunity to speak with them. If only to apologize for getting them into hot water. Given the chance Annie would have traded all the enjoyment of the day for the opportunity to have let the boys go off on their own without her. The biggest furor seemed to be because she’d gone off unchaperoned with two males her own age, the boys wouldn’t have gotten in nearly as much trouble if she hadn’t tagged along.
* * *
Annie shifted the bucket to her other hand and shoved deeper into the brush behind the house. At last she was finally allowed out of sight of the house or the watchful eyes of one of her family. Harvest was over and the chance of her running into either of the Richardsons was negligible. She sang one of her favourite songs to keep herself company and to hopefully scare off any bears that were after the same raspberries and choke cherries Annie was planning to collect. She faltered over some of the words but compensated by humming at the top of her lungs. Reaching the thicket of raspberries she set about collecting the juicy red fruit, popping only a few into her mouth. It was cooler under the trees, but her shirtwaist still stuck to her back and sweat trickled down between her breasts. Her pail was half full when she stopped to rest. Plunking herself down on a fallen tree near the berry patch, she pushed the bonnet off her head and let it hang by its straps down her back.
She couldn’t rest for too long, there was still the mail to fetch from town. Maybe there would be a letter from one of her brothers at the front in Europe. Both men went against their father’s wishes and enlisted in the Army soon after Dominion Day. The government had approved conscription which was to come into effect on August 31, 1917. Steve and Evan figured it was better to go on their own than wait to be ordered to enlist. Annie only got to read the censored missive after everyone else except Ivan had seen it. It was hard to decipher the words at times on the often mud streaked paper, and what with the huge blacked out sections which contained information the censors deemed too sensitive, the reading was more an exercise in guesswork than actually reading. Please let Steve and Evan be well, she prayed looking up at the golden streams of sunlight filtering through the green leaves above her.
The war effort had stolen most of the young men and not a few of the young women from the district. The ones who were left were mostly infirm for some reason or another, or deemed too essential to the production of food on the farms at home. Although, to her eyes there were a good number of malingerers as well. Annie sighed and got to her feet, shaking her skirts out and turning back to the berry patch. One good thing had come of it though, Father quit shoving ‘suitable young men’ at her. She shuddered at the memory of the oldest Munroe boy. No girl with a brain in her head would consider a union with Jack Munroe, he was a large and loutish as his father and his opinion on ‘wifely duties’ was well known in the community.
Granted, Father had tried to get some of the more respectable candidates to court her, but Annie rebuffed them and to be honest, the young men weren’t all that keen on the idea either. Jack Munroe had been Father’s last ditch effort to get her married off. Next June she would be eighteen. An old maid to be sure. The idea didn’t faze Annie in the least. Better to be an old maid and have at least a little say in her destiny than be the property of a bounder the likes of Jack.
Her fingers plucked the remaining fruit with an economy of motion while her thoughts wandered. It had been weeks since she’d glimpsed either of the Richardson boys. Hetty and Mother had been talking about them, she was sure, but they shut up like a steel trap the minute they realized she was within hearing distance. Still, Annie was certain Hetty mentioned Peter and looked disapproving while doing so. Heavens what could he have done that Hetty would be concerned with? Annie supposed she’d find out eventually, perhaps Mrs. Williams at the Post Office would be willing to share a little gossip? Last time she’d seen Peter was from a distance but he’d looked very thin and if she wasn’t mistaken he’d been limping. Surely, old man Munroe couldn’t still be angry over what happened on Dominion Day.
A branch snapped sharply on the other side of the wide thicket of brambles. Annie’s head shot up and she held her breath, lower lip caught in her teeth. Clutching the bucket in both hands she turned toward the sound as quietly as possible. Nothing out of the ordinary met her gaze. Above her the leaves whispered in the light breeze which blew away from her, bird song and the chuck-chuck of squirrels continued uninterrupted. Convinced she must have been imagining things Annie let out the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding and bent to her task again.
“Oh for heaven’s sake!” The sharp thorns of the brambles snagged in her sleeve and skirts when she leaned further into the thicket to reach a bunch of elusive raspberries. Yanking herself free she looked up straight into the eyes of a black bear on the other side of the bramble patch. Okay, so not imagining things. Her lips were numb and the pail rattled in her grasp. Back away, back away. Moving with infinite care, Annie extracted herself from the arching canes and backed away. The bear seemed more interested in cleaning the patch of its bounty than it was in the fact a human was present. Her heart rate kicked up a notch at the appearance of two half-grown cubs waddling out to join the feast. The pulse beating in her ears was so loud Annie was sure the bear could hear it. She swallowed past her dry throat and continued backing away. Once she deemed a safe distance was gained she turned and hurried as fast as her shaking legs would carry her, throwing constant glances over her shoulder.
She burst from the bush onto the grassy verge of Mother’s flower garden and paused to catch her breath. At least the pail of berries was intact, she hadn’t managed to spill them in her haste, so at least she wouldn’t have to hear the lecture about the need to put preserves up for the coming winter months. Already, the still warm air had the intoxicating edge to it that heralded the beginning of autumn. Annie turned her face to the sunlit sky and let the anxiety flow out of her. It only lasted a moment before she returned to the task at hand. Opening the garden gate she followed the sandy path toward the back door. Nodding heads of blessed thistle and fireweed reminded her of the need to get spade and basket and take care of weeding. Another chore Mother pressed on her in punishment for her foolhardy actions in July. Wasn’t foolhardy at all. It was one of the best days of my life. Annie frowned at the heavy headed roses that Mother favoured, the woman insisted on coddling them along even though they thrived much better in the Ireland of her youth than they did in the back woods of Ontario. And it’s my fingers the thorns prick, not hers, she thought bitterly.
Reaching the house, Annie pulled open the screen door and entered the kitchen. Bread was rising on the counter, the yeasty scent tantalizing her nose and making her mouth water. Placing the pail of berries on the table she found the canning pot and went to the pump to fill it with water. She set it beside the pail and began the tedious job of cleaning the fruit prior to starting the jam making. Glancing into her pail she wondered if there were enough to indulge in the luxury of a raspberry pie, or maybe some tarts. She sighed in resignation, that would be Mother’s decision, not hers at any rate.
“There you are finally,” Hetty observed from the door of the hall. “Father wants you to go and fetch the mail. Leave that til later.” She waved a hand at the berries.
Annie shrugged and got to her feet. “I need to wash and change my clothes before I go to town.”
“See that you don’t take all day. Ivan is harnessing Molly and you know how she fusses if she has to stand.” Hetty dismissed her sister with haughty flip of her hand.
Annie moved past her and took the stairs to her room two at a time, skirts bundled above her knees. She reached the landing and settled her skirts just as her mother emerged from the front bedroom. “I’m just getting respectable before I go into town for the mail.” Annie forestalled the criticism that was on the tip of the woman’s tongue. Instead Ella Baldwin clicked her tongue in despair at the state of her youngest daughter’s clothes. “How you ever expect to find a suitable arrangement…” she began and then shook her head before continuing past her and down the stairs.
“What if I don’t want a ‘suitable arrangement’,” Annie muttered shoving her door open. It took only a few minutes to tidy herself before she hurried back out. “I coming,” she called to Ivan. Pulling the door shut behind her, she crossed the porch and in a most unladylike manner took the three steps in one leap. “Move over,” she commanded her little brother who was sitting square in the middle of the buggy seat with the lines clutched in his hands.
“I want to drive.” His lip stuck out in rebellion.
“You know Father said you have to wait until you’re twelve before you can drive Molly off the farm.” Annie moved him over by simply clambering onto the seat and shoving him over, wresting the lines from his hands.
Ivan huffed and crossed his arms over his chest, shoulders hunched in anger. Annie glanced at him out of the corner of her eye, a pang of sympathy rearing its head. The boy was painfully conscientious when it came to his chores, and now that Steve and Evan were overseas fighting the Huns poor Ivan tried valiantly to fill his older brothers’ shoes.
“Git up.” Annie clucked to the mare and slapped the lines lightly on her rump. The mare snorted and shook her head, making the harness jangle. She expertly turned the horse and buggy and set off down the lane toward the main road. Turning onto the dirt track, she urged the horse into a jog. Any faster and she feared she’d bounce right off the seat. Father’s buggy was better than some but the suspension still left a lot to be desired. Ivan clung to the iron rail on his side and giggled.
Annie had another reason other than speed to keep a brisk pace, the flies were vicious and even Molly was quite happy to hurry as the road ran through the thick bush on either side.
“Can’t I drive, please?” Ivan looked at her with the expression that always melted her heart. “Please?”
She hesitated and heaved a sigh. Without slowing the pace, she fixed him a stern glare. “If, and mind I’m saying if, I give you the lines you have to promise not to mention a word of it to anyone. You understand? It’ll be me who catches the rough side of Father’s tongue and then Mother will have a go at me as well.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die.” Ivan matched action to word while letting hope enter his expression. “I promise on my life not to say anything to anyone.”
“Just until we get in sight of town, okay? I don’t need one of those busy bodies putting a bee in Mother’s bonnet. Keep her steady and don’t get too close to the side or the wheel will get caught in the soft ground.” She handed the lines to him, but stayed poised to take them back in an instant if she thought she needed to.
“Thanks, Annie.” The smile Ivan turned on her was brilliant.
“Watch the road,” she muttered, hiding a smile.
They rattled past Miller’s lane and Annie spared a thought for George. She hadn’t seen since they’d passed each other in Eganville, he on one side of the store and she on the other. Annie sighed. Why did the only boy she found even slightly interesting have to be so unsuitable in the eyes of her family? Didn’t Father preach it was what a person did with their life that was more important than what station in life they were born to? Of course, that didn’t apply to anything or anyone who threatened his exalted position in the community. Fine rhetoric though. Why couldn’t people see through the fire and brimstone to the hypocrisy underlying it? Things weren’t likely to change any time soon though. Hetty’s wedding was coming up soon and surely the Richardson boys would be at the party afterward. Coming as it did at the end of harvest the celebration served a double purpose. The war in Europe was more than beginning to make itself felt even in rural Eastern Ontario. The absence of her older brothers was something Annie felt keenly. She loved them even though the difference in ages meant they never spent much time together.
“Here, give me the lines, Ivan.” Annie reached over and reclaimed the leather reins from her little brother. “We’re too close to town now.”
Ivan relinquished them reluctantly, but without an argument. He waited with the buggy while Annie collected the mail from the General Store and rejoined him. They were home just as the sun dipped into the bushy heads of the maple bush on the hill behind the house. Giving Ivan the mail to deliver to Father, Annie unharnessed Molly, rubbed her down and stored tack and buggy properly before following him into the house.