The snow had all but melted by the time Easter arrived. Chicks pecked about in the yard, and piglets trotted after their sow, hoping for a meal.
Lea and Napoleon had been invited to the Gilberts’ after church for the leg of ham that had been saved over the winter for the occasion. Lea looked forward to it, particularly since she and Madame Gilbert had become such good friends, enjoying each other’s company daily. Of course, Monsieur Gilbert never made the mistake of commenting on Lea’s beauty ever again.
“I’m going to milk the cows before church,” Napoleon said, throwing his arms around Lea’s shoulder and nuzzling her neck. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m making bread for tonight. A very special loaf like at the boulangerie in Chatlineau—the really expensive type.”
“Oh? What kind of bread will it be?”
A smile touched her lips as she imagined the work of art she’d create. “It’s going to be braided.”
Nap nodded in approval. “I’m sure it’ll be beautiful.” He drew her close and kissed her on the lips before slipping on his coat and boots and heading to the barn.
Lea watched him through the window as she did every morning and then set about her task. She measured out the flour and sifted it into the large bowl she used for baking. Glancing back, she checked the consistency of the yeast she’d prepared earlier that morning.
“Hmm,” she said. “Maybe I could make a sweet glaze to go on top.” She shook her head since Madame Gilbert had already claimed the privilege of making dessert and she didn’t want to ruffle any feathers. “I know. I’ll add some sugar so that it’ll taste a bit like a beigne. That’ll be really Belgian.”
She picked up her measuring cup and stirred the sugar into the flour. Then she mixed in the yeast and kneaded it into a ball. Covering the bowl with a damp cloth, she set it aside.
Wandering into the bedroom, she pulled out the same navy blue dress with embroidered flowers she’d worn for her wedding. Since it was the first time they’d be attending church in Ponteix, she wanted to look her best to meet the townsfolk. She placed her hand on her stomach and felt the bulge as the little life within her grew, glad she wasn’t showing too much yet.
When the automobile was ready, they drove the few miles to town. Lea marveled at the broad sky that touched the horizon far away. Only on the prairies, where the land was flat, could such a thing of beauty exist. A myriad of castles where angels dwell.
She gazed farther to the town where the green grain elevator rose in the distance. Bells rang from the church’s steeple announcing Easter mass. Buggies and horses surrounded the church, ladies and girls descending wearing white hats and dresses while men and boys followed in their best trousers and shirts.
When mass began, Père Royer welcomed Lea personally, as well as other war brides, and commented on what a long winter it had been and how grand it was that so many people could make the Easter Sunday mass. He also bowed his head in memory of sons who had been lost.
Lea enjoyed the sermon, grateful it was in French. It made her feel as though she were back in Belgium.
After mass, the congregation moved to the hall where ladies brought out cookies and cakes of every type. Children ran about sampling the fares before leaping away in games of tag while grownups sipped tea. After spending time with such a pleasant crowd, Lea was reluctant to go back home where solitude would once again greet her.
When they arrived at the farm, she opened the door to their cabin and went straight to the bowl to check her dough, but the bread had hardly risen.
“What on earth!” She kneaded it again just in case she hadn’t mixed the yeast in properly, then set it aside. A half-hour later, a hard lump of dough still sat on the bottom of the bowl.
She shook her head. “Maybe I didn’t put in enough yeast.” Preparing more rising agent, she added it to the existing dough along with more flour. But the result was much the same—flat bread.
“Ugh, what a flop! This isn’t good for anything.” Taking the entire mess outside, she threw the clump of wet dough on the ground, then slammed the door.
With a sigh, she took the hot water from the back of the stove and made herself a cup of tea. “When things aren’t going well, it’s time for a break,” she muttered to herself. She sat for a time sipping the hot drink. On her second cup, the solution came to her.
“It’s the sugar!” she exclaimed. “I’ve never put in that much before!”
Her morale renewed, she tied her apron on again and remixed the flour and yeast. An hour later, it had risen into the puffy dough expected. She grinned with satisfaction, then broke off small clumps that she rolled into strands and braided, laying them in pretty patterns on top of the loaf. Then she added wood to the fire until she deemed the temperature hot enough. Placing her creation inside a cast iron pot, she clapped the lid on and let it cook. When she lifted the cover later on, a perfect, round, golden loaf met her gaze.
She wiped her brow with relief. “Just in time for dinner.”
As she turned the pot over to release the bread, a burst of laughter from outside startled her. She dashed to the window where she saw Napoleon and Mr. Gilbert slapping their knees and guffawing. Lea swung the door open to see what was so funny. Several small chicks flapped about, their feet stuck in her discarded bread dough.
“Were you trying to catch a chick or two for the supper tonight?” asked Napoleon. “Madame Gilbert is cooking a ham, you know.”
“No…I…the dough…it wouldn’t rise. I had to throw it out...”
Her face burning, she grabbed a rag, then scrubbed all the chicks’ claws with slush while Nap and Mr. Gilbert shoveled up the remaining dough, tears still streaming from their eyes.
“Next time,” said Mr. Gilbert, “feed it to the pigs.”
“I know,” said Lea. “They’ll eat anything, right?”
At dinner time, Lea brought the second loaf and handed it over to Madame Gilbert with pride, though the odd snicker still escaped the men.
Madame Gilbert accepted the gift with a gracious bow as she welcomed them into the big house and led them to the kitchen. Lea grabbed an apron off the hook and tied it around her waist. When she turned, she noticed an extra guest—a young woman in her mid-twenties. She was an attractive girl with chestnut brown hair tied back in a ponytail, but her eyes were sad. Lea glanced at Madame Gilbert, questioning.
“Napoleon and Lea, I’d like to introduce you to my daughter, Cécile.”
Lea stepped forward, a welcoming smile on her lips. “I’m so pleased to meet you.”
The young woman eyed Lea resentfully for a moment before extending a reluctant hand. “Likewise.”
They exchanged polite pecks on each cheek before Cécile shook Nap’s hand.
“She came all the way from Regina to be with us today,” said Madame Gilbert, donning a fake smile.
“Yes, it was a wonderful surprise,” Mr. Gilbert said, his voice a little too exuberant like he was trying to be nice.
Cécile huffed without meeting their gaze and began setting the table as though they hadn’t spoken while the others exchanged uncomfortable glances.
Lea helped Madame Gilbert with the finishing touches of the dinner, cutting the braided bread into thick slices and placing them into a neat row in the basket while Mr. Gilbert carved the ham.
When all was ready, they sat down at the grand table as Lea and Madame Gilbert laid dish after dish before them.
“How ever did you make such a tender bread?” asked Madame Gilbert.
Napoleon turned his head, disguising a snicker as a cough.
“The secret is in the amount of sugar,” said Lea, throwing her husband a warning glance. “This ham is delicious too. What do you think, Cécile?”
“I haven’t had such excellent ham in a long time,” the young woman replied, taking her napkin and dabbing her mouth. Without warning, she burst into tears.
The room fell silent except for the sounds of her sobs.
“I’m sorry,” said Cécile. “I really miss them…It’s just not the same.”
Madame Gilbert was the first to speak. “I know. We all miss your brothers.” She picked up her napkin from her lap and wiped her eyes.
“And I hate the big city. There are too many people,” Cécile continued, her voice bitter.
“Then why don’t you come home?” Mr. Gilbert asked. “Planting season will start soon and we could use as much help as possible. We could pay you the same as we do the others.”
“I don’t know.” Cécile wiped her nose. “You see, there’s a man.”
“Oh?” Madame Gilbert’s eyebrows arched.
“It’s nothing, Maman. It’s been over for quite some time, but I...” She erupted into sobs again.
“You hope he’ll come back to you?” asked Lea.
Cécile nodded.
Lea regarded the young woman with tenderness. “You know, Cécile, I miss my family…and my country too, but the whole world has changed, and we have to change along with it. I met a girl on the ship coming over. She lost most of her family and saw things too horrible to describe, but even so, she and I made a pact that we’d move forward. There’s simply no other place to go. You could join our pact.”
Cécile’s eyes met Lea’s. “Well, maybe.”
“Not maybe,” Lea said. “Say yes.”
“Well, all right, then. Yes!”
“Then you’ll stay until at least after the harvest?” asked Mr. Gilbert.
Madame Gilbert shot Cécile a hopeful look.
“Okay. I could use a break from the city.” Cécile nodded.
“Then that calls for a celebration!” Madame Gilbert rose and retrieved an angel food cake iced with whipped cream she’d kept hidden in the cellar.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have,” said Lea.
“But it’s Easter. Why not?” Madame Gilbert smiled as she dished out generous portions.
Lea couldn’t get enough of the cake, devouring two pieces.
After the dishes were cleared and washed, Cécile made her way to the piano and tested it out with two fingers. “Needs to be tuned after such a cold winter.”
“I agree. We’ll send for the piano technician next month when he comes through Ponteix,” said Madame Gilbert.
Cécile sat down and began her own rendition of “Plaisir d’Amour.”
“That’s my favourite song!” said Lea, dropping her dishcloth and racing to Cécile’s side. Her heart was filled with loneliness for her family as she sang the words. She thought of her parents, Camille, François, Mathilde, and Palma and wondered what they were doing that very moment. The others joined in too, singing with passion.
When the song ended, Lea glanced at Cécile. It appeared the evening had tremendously lifted the young woman’s spirits.
***
At the end of April, the earth had warmed up enough that Napoleon and Mr. Gilbert hitched up the team of horses and attached the plow, spending days digging up the fields, then disking and harrowing them until only rich, brown soil showed itself in perfect rows. Then the seeding began.
The summer weighed on Lea in her expectant state, the heat smothering her. But far worse were the millions of tiny mosquitoes that filled the air in the evening.
“Look,” she said to Napoleon as she stared up in the sky. “They’re everywhere!”
“I know,” said Nap, scratching the welts on his legs. “All we can do is be careful not to let them in the house.”
But try as they might, they heard the high-pitched whine of the bloodsuckers hovering over their heads each night.
Lea couldn’t wait until the yellow wheat shot up, finally able to witness the golden fields Napoleon had described to her. But more than anything else, she couldn’t wait until their child was born. It kicked continuously, often waking her. She’d already arranged the baby clothes Madame Gilbert had given her into the top drawer of the dresser and awaited Nap’s promised crib.
“You seem mighty big for a woman who’s only been with child for five months,” commented Madame Gilbert, her lips turned up into a smile of amusement.
“It’s all the good food. We lived with so little for so long. But it’s not just my stomach that’s grown. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say I’ve gotten taller too.”
“I noticed that,” said Madame Gilbert.
Cécile’s forehead creased as she regarded her. “But that’s impossible. You’re nearly twenty. I stopped growing at fourteen.”
“That’s what I thought too until I noticed that Napoleon and I are closer to the same height. I used to be so much shorter than him. I’m wondering if maybe the lack of food during the war stunted my growth.”
Madame Gilbert’s eyebrows rose. “I’ve never heard of such a thing, but it could be.”
When the shafts of wheat were ripe and ready for harvest, Mr. Gilbert came back from town with a carload of young men whose raucous voices filled the yard. He unlocked the doors of the other cabins, assigning six men to a room. Lea was surprised to see that the other dwellings only contained a woodstove and bunks in sharp contrast to the love nest she and Napoleon had made for themselves.
With the men’s arrival came long days of cooking and cleaning as it was the women’s job to feed the hungry workers. Beginning with baking bread at sunrise, then making breakfast—frying three dozen eggs and three pounds of bacon—they then made a couple dozen sandwiches. After that, they prepared supper, making pies, cooking a large roast, and boiling fifteen potatoes each night. Of course, that didn’t include all the dishwashing. By the end of the day, Lea was completely spent.
It was on one such night, as she lay exhausted in bed, she heard Cécile giggling outside their cabin. A man’s voice mumbled. Lea sat up, unsure if what she was hearing was real. Sneaking to the window, she peeked out. The full moon lit up the night, casting long shadows from the nearby fruit trees. Lea strained her eyes in the direction of the voices. She spotted Cécile’s pink dress near one of the trees. Who was she with? A red ember glowed from a cigarette next to her. Lea just barely made out the outline of a man. He leaned in and kissed Cécile. Lea gasped and tiptoed back to her bed. Waking Napoleon, she whispered, “Cécile has a beau!”
“You mean you didn’t know?” A smile tinged his voice despite being heavy with sleep.
“No. She never said anything. Who is he?”
Napoleon rolled over. “His name’s Claude. He’s been talking about her for weeks.”
“Claude?” She curled her lip. Lea knew exactly who Nap was talking about. He was the most dashing of all the workers with a sweep of jet black hair, a crooked smile, and a brash sense of humour, but Lea had been shocked at his coarseness. She’d once overheard him using profanities while talking with the men, but at least he’d had the decency to clean up his language immediately when he’d noticed her presence.
“What’s he been saying about her?”
Nap paused before answering. “It’s just guy talk. You don’t want to know.”
Lea’s lips tightened. “What’s he like?”
“Well, he’s not the most upstanding guy, but he’s thinking of getting a homestead.”
“I suppose that’s a good sign,” Lea said despite her misgivings. She felt uneasy. Perhaps he wasn’t the sort of man she’d want, but who was she to judge? Maybe he was just what Cécile needed.
Indeed, Cécile’s mood had changed considerably. She seemed more animated, laughing easily at jokes, not minding the hard work, and making an extra effort to cook up special things she imagined the men would enjoy.
When September arrived, the men turned their attention to harvesting the apples and pears. The women were kept busy peeling, canning, and storing until jars of fruit lined the shelves of the basement. Then the workers began digging up potatoes, carrots, and beets, leaving bushels near the cellar door to be carried in. Lea had grown so large, she could no longer bend over to lift the baskets so that Madame Gilbert and Cécile had to take over.
The night before the men were scheduled to leave, Cécile accompanied Claude to town for dinner. When they returned, several hours later, they woke everyone up with boisterous shouts. Lea and Napoleon dressed and hurried to the house.
As Lea suspected, Cécile stretched out her hand, showing off a ring. “We’re married!” she squealed.
“Married?” Mr. Gilbert’s expression was the epitome of astonishment.
“Yes!” said Cécile. “We wanted to surprise everyone. We figured the less fuss, the better.”
Madame Gilbert stared at her blankly, then quickly added, “Well, congratulations!”
“Where will you live?” asked Mr. Gilbert. “Are you going back to Regina?”
“We were hoping we could stay on here in one of the cabins,” said Cécile.
“Oh, forget the cabins,” said Madame Gilbert. “You can stay in the main house. Claude can move in tomorrow.”
They broke open a bottle of wine to celebrate. Lea refused a glass, her pregnancy making the taste repulsive. Claude gladly took her share.
Later, as she lay in Napoleon’s arm, she asked, “Do you think they’ll be okay?”
Napoleon hesitated before answering. “I sure hope so.