Lea’s heart skipped the day Nap came from Ponteix with a letter in his hand.
“It’s been forwarded from Wide View. It’s from your sister, Palma.”
“Palma?” With a bounce in her step, Lea took the letter from his hand and tore it open. She began reading.
Dear Lea,
I am so happy to hear you are expecting your first child. Do you hope for a boy or a girl?
Things have changed a great deal here in Chatlineau since the armistice. I’ve gotten a job at the boulangerie making bread. It’s difficult since I’m required to be there at four in the morning to start the dough. But I suppose it’s better than staying at home listening to Papa rant and rave.
He’s in such terrible humour these days. Maman says it’s because his back aches from working in the mine. He has insisted that Camille take over his job until he is well enough again. Camille has obliged, but spends far too much time in the tavern after work. In the meantime, Papa has gone back to repairing shoes, and he’s training François as well since a shoe is small enough for François to hold with his damaged hand while he sews with the other.
Lea, I’m terrified! Papa has threatened to arrange marriages for both Mathilde and me. He says we cost too much to keep and that he has no intention of supporting two old maids. He told me he has found an Italian man quite suitable for me, but I’ve seen him, and he’s old. Papa says I can’t be too choosy since the war has taken away so many of our sons. Oh, Lea, you must help me! I’m beside myself. I’m thinking of running away to Canada, but I haven’t saved up enough money with my new job yet. Would you and Napoleon have dollars to spare that you could send me? I’m desperate. I can’t bear to be married to such an old man.
Palma
Lea folded the letter.
“I can’t believe it,” she said to Napoleon. “Papa wants to arrange marriages for Palma and Mathilde.”
Napoleon’s eyes bulged at the news. “Arrange marriages?”
“Yes. Palma says he’s found an older man for her. Apparently, there aren’t many young men left since the war.”
“Well, we have plenty here. Perhaps she could immigrate to Canada.”
“But how? She says she has a job, but she can’t possibly raise that kind of money in that amount of time. Couldn’t we help her?”
Nap sighed. “But we have to save all we can for the homestead, and with the baby coming…and besides, there’s the paperwork.”
“Oh, poor Palma.” Lea wrung her hands. “How could Papa do this to her?”
“We wouldn’t have enough room for her anyway with that big tummy of yours always in the way.” His eyes twinkled. “She wouldn’t be able to get past you to go to her room.”
Lea laughed. It was true. Her stomach had grown the size of a pumpkin, just in time for Halloween and that new tradition in town where children disguised themselves in costumes, knocking on doors and demanding candy.
“Perhaps I should draw a jack-o-lantern face on my tummy. That would certainly make tongues wag.”
Nap let out a chuckle. “Yes, it would. By the way, Mr. Gilbert says we’re doing the butchering of the pig tomorrow.”
“Oh, no,” said Lea, feeling every aching bone in her pregnant body. She’d been dreading the day, but knew it was coming since the cellars were full, and the men had all left for the winter, save Claude. And that meant the harvest was over and it was time.
“Madame Gilbert wants your help making boudin.”
For a moment, Lea forgot her fatigue and licked her lips in anticipation. It had been a while since she’d tasted blood pudding.
“She says she’ll teach you how to make it.”
“Well, all right then. It’ll be fun to spend the day with Madame Gilbert and Cécile puttering about in the kitchen.”
When Lea arrived at the main house, the next morning, she was put to work chopping onions and bits of apple while Cécile mixed cloves, nutmeg, cinnamon, and salt in a large pot.
“So how’s our bride doing today?” asked Lea.
“Oh, fine.” Cécile sighed.
“I heard Claude come in late last night.”
“Yes, he does that sometime.”
“He was drunk.” Madame Gilbert flashed a sour look as she separated the cream from the milk.
“He wasn’t drunk, Maman. He was just a little tipsy. You have to give him a chance. After all, he’s been single all this time. He has to get used to being married.”
“Whatever you say.” Madame Gilbert shook her head. “How are those onions and apples coming along, Lea?”
“They’re ready.”
“And are you finished with the spices?” she asked Cécile.
“Yes.”
“Good, then. Let’s throw them all together.”
The three women poured their mixtures into a large pot and carried it out to the barn.
When they arrived, Mr. Gilbert tossed grain into the pig trough while Claude and Nap watched. “Come on, Charlie. This is your last supper.”
The pig grunted, his cloven hooves scuffling as he made his way to the food and poked his greedy nose in.
“I can’t stand to watch this.” Cécile covered her eyes with her hands. “It’s so cruel.”
Lea instinctively turned away.
A shot rang through the air, and Lea heard the pig drop.
“Quickly, now,” said Madame Gilbert.
When Lea looked down, she saw Mr. Gilbert make a gash in the pig’s throat. Madame Gilbert shoved the pot under the boar’s head where the blood flowed, stirring it in with the mixture of spices, salt, onions, apples, and cream.
“You have to keep it moving so it won’t coagulate. Here, you take a turn now.”
Lea grasped the wooden spoon and stirred until the pig’s blood had run dry. When Madame Gilbert deemed it to be the right consistency, they took the concoction back to the house and into the kitchen.
“And now, we put it into the casings,” said Madame Gilbert.
Lea eyed the long cow intestines that lay on the table, wondering how on earth they’d get the mixture inside them.
She soon found out when Madame Gilbert swished around the intestines in a vat of water until they were clean and turned them inside out. Then she twisted one end while attaching the other to the meat grinder, pushing it up as far as it would go. She spooned a portion of the mixture into the machine and turned the handle. The casing slowly filled.
Lea watched with fascination as the sausage took shape. When it was nearly full, Madame Gilbert detached it from the grinder, twisted the top, and coiled the sausage into a spiral.
“Voilà! Now you try, Lea.”
Lea attached the casing to the machine, took a spoonful of the boudin, and stuffed it in the main body, but when she rotated the handle, the pudding seeped out the other end of the intestine and onto the table.
Cécile broke into a fit of giggling. “You forgot to seal it.”
Lea reddened. “I’m sorry.”
“Here, start again.” Madame Gilbert squeezed out the pudding and rewashed the casing.
This time, it turned out near perfect. Lea admired her work, pleased she’d learned a new skill.
When all the sausages were ready, they cooked them slowly until they oozed juices when pricked. Lea marveled at the delicate flavor.
Stifling a yawn, she was about to excuse herself to take a nap when the door flew open and Mr. Gilbert trundled in, carrying a crock full of cut meat and another filled with lard. “Here you go. All ready for preserving.”
Lea took a giant breath, then pushed down her fatigue yet again.
“All right, now,” said Madame Gilbert. “You and Cécile are going to fry the meat while I melt the lard.”
Madame Gilbert placed the fat in a large pot and added more wood to the stove.
Lea watched as it melted, taking some of the lard and forking in as many chops as her pan could fit. The sizzle threw up flecks of fat as the aroma of pork chops filled the room making her stomach growl. When the meat was well-done, she turned to Madame Gilbert.
“Now watch what we do,” said Cécile. “This is the important part.” Ladling some of the melted lard into a crock, she waited until it hardened, then filled the space with chops. Adding another layer of lard, again she waited until it turned white, then placed more meat on top.
Lea and Cécile took turns cooking and preserving. A few hours later, they were done.
“That should last us through the winter,” said Madame Gilbert, brushing off her hands with satisfaction.
“But what about the rest of it?” Lea felt as though she couldn’t last another minute. “Where are the legs?”
“The men are smoking them in the barn,” said Cécile. “And they’re storing the rest of the pig in brine until we need it. Later, we can make headcheese and creton with the edible parts of the head and the feet.”
Lea wanted to ask how they prepared headcheese and creton, but was too tired to hear anymore. Excusing herself, she waddled back to the cabin where she slept until well after the sun had risen the next day.
***
Lea tossed and turned as images of injured soldiers ran through her head. Where was Napoleon? She called his name. Only a dying soldier’s moans answered her. A sharp pain stabbed her abdomen. She doubled over in agony, falling to her knees in the deep mud. Had she been shot? She pushed herself back up. It didn’t matter. She had to find her beau.
“Napoleon!” she screamed.
A German soldier loomed over her. “He’s dead!”
“No!” shrieked Lea. “You’re lying.”
“It was me who shot him…right through the eyes!”
“Noooo!”
She awoke with a start. Something wet trickled between her legs. An agonizing cramp gripped her stomach. Lea sat up.
“Napoleon,” she whispered. “The baby’s coming!”
Her husband groaned in his sleep.
“Napoleon!”
He rolled over and moaned.
“Quickly, get the doctor.”
As though her words suddenly registered, Nap leapt up. He threw on his clothes, lit the lantern, and left the house. A half hour later, he returned, followed by a young doctor.
“Lea, this is Dr. Lupien.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Lea eyed the man with curiosity. A handsome gentleman, he had the fine features of a nobleman. His brown hair was combed back, his eyes a pale blue. She’d heard stories about how he was the first doctor in these parts, summoned by Père Royer himself. He’d looked after the people of the town when the Spanish flu had stricken, going so far as to build them fires and cook their food. The nuns in the convent declared his heart was made of gold.
“How are you doing?” he asked her.
A spasm gripped her belly. “Not very well at the moment.”
“How far apart are the contractions?”
“I don’t know.” She let out a wail.
He turned to Nap. “Boil some water. And we’ll need clean rags—plenty of them.”
Napoleon left the house to fill the water pot. When he came back, he built the fire in the wood stove. Grabbing the bag full of clean rags Lea had prepared in advance, he handed them to Dr. Lupien before returning to the stove. “Darn, that snow’s taking so long to melt,” Lea heard him mutter.
As Lea’s contractions grew closer, they became more painful. She gritted her teeth.
“Hurry up, water!” she heard Napoleon say.
“Here, let me examine you,” said Dr. Lupien.
Lea complied.
After a few minutes, the doctor raised his head. “It shouldn’t take long now. You’re fully dilated.”
“What does that mean?” Lea asked, innocently.
“It means you’ve opened up enough to give birth. The next time you have a contraction, I want you to push.”
Lea waited for the gripping pain, then heaved with all her might. Sweat poured off her forehead, dampening the pillow beneath her. Then respite. A few moments later, it began again. Lea clutched the sides of the bed in agony and pushed for all she was worth.
An hour later, a tiny cry rang out in the room.
“It’s a girl!” said Dr. Lupien.
“A girl?” said Lea.
Napoleon rushed to Lea’s beside, his face twisting at the sight of all the blood. But his attention was drawn away by the tiny little baby with wet, brown hair.
Lea watched as Napoleon lifted the child in his arms, his eyes glowing. The baby girl returned his gaze.
“She looks like a little Emma,” he said. “We could name her after her grandmother.”
Lea smiled. “That’s a good idea.”
“Then Emma it is. And now that’s she’s been born, we can go to Wide View to meet the family.”
“That would be wonderful!” said Lea. Her face contorted as another contraction gripped her.
“Hmmm,” said Dr. Lupien. “I believe there’s another one on the way.”
“Another one?” Napoleon’s eyes magnified.
Lea pushed until the second child came into the world.
“Another little girl!” said Dr. Lupien.
“Two girls?” Tears of joy filled Lea’s eyes as the doctor cleaned the second baby, wrapping her in a blanket. “Oh, she’s beautiful too…and they’re identical!”
“What shall we name this one?” asked Nap.
Lea thought a moment, then said, “Let’s name her Palma after my sister.”
“Then Palma it is,” replied Napoleon.