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SASKATCHEWAN, SEPTEMBER 1938
Charlotte closed the lid of the trunk, barely aware of the late afternoon sunlight filtering through the window of the attic.
Eloping! The thought took her breath away. There were times she didn’t believe it; didn’t believe that within a few days she’d be far away from here, in the arms of Harm, the man she’d fallen in love with.
She closed her eyes and conjured up his face. The face she’d come to love over the summer months.
They’d met at the dance hall in town. It was his first visit; hers too... and when their eyes met, the attraction had been instant. The thought of something as corny as falling in love across a dance floor made her laugh now, but that was precisely how it had started. That first night, the fluttering in her chest was an unfamiliar sensation, but it became one she welcomed in the weeks that followed. They’d met every chance they could get, which wasn’t nearly enough for either of them. The desire to be together was so strong she’d been having trouble sleeping at night. She ached for him; longed to be held by him, kissed by him, loved by him.
She hated the fact that he’d gone away this weekend. Every time she thought about what he was doing, fingers of unease crept down her spine. He’d gone to compete in a rodeo in a neighbouring town. She hadn’t wanted him to go, but he’d convinced her that they could use the few extra dollars he would earn. Still, she’d been on edge since he left.
She hadn’t dared to tell anyone of their plans. Besides, who could she tell? Her only close friend had moved away a few years ago and was living on the outskirts of Regina with her new husband. She ran her fingers over the spines of the books on the makeshift bookshelf. Growing up, this attic had been her refuge, her sanctuary. She supposed that her parents loved her, but they had never showed affection. Maybe they didn’t know how, but Charlotte was determined that when she and Harm had children, she’d tell them every day how special they were; how much she loved them.
“Charlotte! Would you get down here!” Her mother’s voice cut into her reverie.
“Coming, Mother.” She checked the attic quickly, making sure there was no sign of her imminent departure. Not that anyone else ever came up here, but she wasn’t taking any chances. There would be a full moon on the weekend, and that was when she and Harm planned to elope. Her parents were off to the Agricultural Fair in Regina this weekend and by the time they came home and found that she’d left, she and Harm would be far away, starting their new life together.
Charlotte stopped at the bottom of the narrow attic stairway and smoothed the skirts of her dress. No sense drawing attention to the fact that she’d been in the attic.
“Really, Charlotte. You know you promised to get the potatoes ready.” Several neighbours were helping her father with the harvest today, and she and her mother were providing the evening meal. She filled the big pot with water and hauled it over to the stove. She had plenty of time to peel and cook the potatoes before supper. Her mother always got a bit nervous when it was her turn to feed the men.
She peeled the potatoes with quick, efficient movements, put them in the pot and covered it with the lid. She hadn’t been paying much attention to the conversation between her mother and the other women, but as she started to clear the table, a sudden change in their tone caught her attention.
“Yes, it was a terrible accident. Killed instantly, he was.” Ruby Bowker pursed her lips. “Frank said it was a blessing that he didn’t suffer.”
Charlotte stared at her. “Who?” she asked, her voice barely audible. She clutched a small flowered teapot in both hands.
“That nice young ranch hand who was working the Cavanaugh spread. Harm something. He was thrown from a horse at a rodeo yesterday and broke his neck.”
Charlotte’s vision started to blur and her hands began to shake. The teapot lid fell to the floor and shattered, but she scarcely noticed. “Harm? Are you sure?”
“Why yes.” Ruby gave her a curious look. “Did you know him?”
Charlotte looked around wildly. “Excuse me,” she mumbled, and ran from the room.
“What’s the matter with her?” Ruby looked at Charlotte’s mother.
“I don’t know.” Jean Freeman’s eyes narrowed as she looked after her daughter. “She’s been acting odd recently.”
* * *
STILL CLUTCHING THE teapot, Charlotte ran up the stairs to the attic and flung herself into the chair at the end of the room. She couldn’t catch her breath, and it had nothing to do with racing up the stairs. She set down the teapot and tugged on the chain she wore around her neck, pulling it out from beneath her dress. A gold ring hung on the chain and she raised it to her mouth, running the smooth metal back and forth across her lips.
“No!” she moaned aloud. “No.”
But she knew it was true. She’d known it the moment Mrs. Bowker opened her mouth. She lowered her head and wept.
