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Dominion Day dawned hazy and hot. The mist was still dancing on the lake when Harriet opened her curtains on the narrow window. Even at six-thirty in the morning the heat was rising from the swampy earth by the water’s edge and the sun struck hot through the single pane glass. She considered going back to bed for a lie in, but decided against it as the heat and humidity would soon make such an endeavour uncomfortable.
Instead, Harriet tipped the tepid water from the ceramic pitcher into the basin on the dresser and gave herself a quick wash. With any luck there would be time for a swim later on. In fact, she promised herself she’d make sure there was time. Pulling on a light cambric men’s shirt and her canvas trousers, she considered going barefoot but pulled on socks and stamped her feet into her boots. She could always shuck the boots and socks once she was out on the water.
Paintbox in hand and paddle over her shoulder, she locked her door and headed toward the welcome scent of coffee wafting up the stairs. Setting her belongings at a vacant table, she sauntered over to the coffee urn. From the corner of her vision, she noticed Winnie and Tom sitting by the window, heads close together. She caught Winnie’s eye and gave a quick wave, but didn’t intrude on the couple. Sitting down, she drank the coffee slowly, while contemplating putting together a bit of a lunch from the meagre breakfast offerings to take with her out on the lake. A quick glance told her neither of the Frasers were present at the moment. Pulling her kerchief from her pocket, Harriet went to the sideboard and gathered up some biscuits, cheese, onions, and pickles. There was a few stringy bits of bacon lying forlornly on a greasy plate which she passed on. She stuffed the laden kerchief into the front of her shirt, gathered up her things and escaped before either Fraser could demand payment for her lunch.
The bright sunlight caused her to pause on the top step to allow her eyes to adjust. Then, with a light step, she hopped down the stairs and headed for her canoe and the solitude of the lake. It would be just about perfect if the Blechers didn’t come nosing around in their little motor craft, disturbing the peace, and setting the jays and other birds into an uproar. Martin Jr. gave her the willies with the way he looked at her and Martin Sr. wasn’t much better in her opinion. Even quiet, sallow Betsy was a strange bird, always keeping to herself and within close range of her family. It was actually a blessing that the younger Blecher had gone into hiding. No doubt he’d show up tonight, not being one to miss out on the booze.
Harriet shrugged and pushed the thought away as she slid the canoe into the shallows until it was deep enough for her to step in. Settling the folded canvas to cushion her knees from the ribs of the cedarstrip and stowing the paintbox safely under the bow seat Harriet paddled away from the dock. The sweet scent of the white lilies she disturbed with her efforts rose in the humid air to envelop her. She smiled, now if only someone could bottle that and sell it as perfume...it would be like capturing summer to release in a mist in the midst of winter.
“How anyone could do that is beyond my ken,” she said out loud, borrowing the Scottish word from her mother. The lake was fairly smooth, but an east wind was blowing as she came out from behind the Wapomeo islands. Perhaps Tea Lake Dam was a bit ambitious for how she was feeling. Instead, she moved closer to the shoreline with an eye out for a likely place to beach the canoe and have a wander in the bush. With the July sun working its way to the zenith, the play of golden light and shadow through the pale green leaves would pick out the browns, russets and reds of last year’s leaves carpeting the ground under the trees and if she was very lucky she would find some lady’s slippers and hopefully a riot of trilliums gathered around the trunks. Time would tell. She grinned and hummed as she paddled.
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The sun was hovering just over the treeline by the time Harriet beached her canoe and made her way toward the lodge. She hummed as she walked, paintbox swinging in her hand and paddle shipped on her shoulder. The day had been glorious, three new paintings were safely stowed in her box, the solitude and beauty of the time spent in communication with the lake and bush were a source of joy and contentment in her heart.
Nearing the lodge, she took in the scene of chaos. Trestle tables were set out and a large area cleared for the bonfire. Annie was bustling about, her shrill voice shouting orders and abuse to the men attempting to do her bidding. Harriet slipped by the area and entered the building. She sorely needed to change her clothes and take a quick sponge bath to rid herself of the sweat of the day. Not to mention getting the pigments off her fingers and from under her nails.
“Harriet! There you are. I was afraid you’d decided to go to Sprucedale for the festivities after all.” Winnie met her on the way up the stairs.
“Not at all. I was just enjoying a day in the bush.” She held up her paintbox. “A very productive day.”
“Well, hurry and put your things away. Annie’s after commandeering everyone to help with things.” Winnie skipped down the stairs, then turned. “Oh, I almost forgot. Annie was looking for you earlier. Said there was a letter or a telegram for you.”
Harriet frowned. “That’s odd. I can’t imagine who would be contacting me. There wouldn’t have been mail delivery to the station today, anyway.”
Winnie shrugged. “You know how it goes. Might have come yesterday when Shannon went down to Canoe station...”
“Oh, I’ve been warned, never fear. I’m well aware of the Frasers’ penchant for reading other people’s mail. I’ll ask her about it later.” Harriet’s gaze followed Winnie’s passage down the stairs, a frown creasing her forehead. No point worrying about it right now, she reasoned. If it was something worrisome she’d find out soon enough.
Twenty minutes later, Harriet bounded down the stairs, hair freshly washed and tied back from her face, the clean clothes rustling pleasantly as she moved. The thought of good food and festivities around the fire put a spring in her step. She enjoyed the informal gatherings at Mowat to the more formal and regimented goings on her father would preside over at home. Spying Winnie, she joined her in moving some benches over by the firepit.
“Where’s Tom today?”
“Around here somewhere.” Winnie glanced over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “He’s planning to ask Shannon for the money he’s owed today. He told me he’s made arrangements for a honeymoon cottage at Billy Bear Lodge.”
“That’s good news, then. You must be happy about that.”
“I am, yes. But I’m also concerned. He heard about that American coming to look for Blecher Jr, and he’s got his blood up about that. It was all I could do this morning to stop him for storming over to their cottage and calling the man out for avoiding the conscription.”
“I suppose I can understand that. From things Tom’s let drop in conversation I know he’s upset about getting refused for military duty.”
Winnie nodded. “He feels guilty for being here at home and safe while so many young men are overseas risking their lives. The list of missing and dead in the papers just eats at his soul.”
“It’s not like he hasn’t tried to enlist twice. He really has nothing to feel guilty about, but then I’m not a man, so maybe I just don’t understand the need to go become a target.”
“Honestly, I’m relieved he isn’t being sent overseas. Especially now”. Winnie smoothed her skirts over a still flat belly.
“You still haven’t got your monthlies, then?” Harriet rolled a flat topped stump into the ring of seats by the fire pit.
“No. I’m pretty sure I’m with child.”
“Have you told Tom yet?”
“Tonight. I figure to once he’s spoken with Shan and made arrangements to get his money. Then I’ll tell him. I know he’ll be thrilled.”
“I’m sure he will,” Harriet assured her, even though she herself wasn’t so sure.
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Sunlight poured in streams of golden-honey light across Canoe Lake touching everything in its path with a sense of magic. At least that was Harriet’s thought as she climbed the steps of the lodge. Everything was arranged and it was time to clean up and change into something not wet with sweat. The approaching July evening promised to be as hot and humid as the day had been. With any luck a breeze would come in from the west and provide a bit of cooling. The seductive scent of the roast pig followed her into the lodge. The hog had been roasting since the morning and the smell of the fat dripping into the pit and sizzling almost drove Harriet mad. With thoughts of the festivities to come, she hurried toward the stairs.
“Harriet!” Annie Fraser’s summons stopped her with one foot on the bottom riser.
With a sigh, she turned and crossed the hall to the office door. “Did you need me for something?”
“No, no.” Annie held out a somewhat tattered envelope. “This came for you, and I thought you would want to see it as soon as possible.”
Harriet took the proffered envelope. “Thank you. I didn’t know Shan went into the station this morning.” Her fingers tested the seal of the envelope flap.
Annie met her gaze squarely, a smugness hiding in her expression, there and then gone so soon Harriet thought she might have imagined it if she hadn’t known better.
“He brought it back late last night when he came in with the hog. I expect you must have already gone to bed. Didn’t want to disturb you.” Annie busied herself straightening some papers on her desk, then got to her feet. “’Scuse me, I need to start setting out the rest of the food. People’ll be arriving before I know it.”
Harriet stepped back and let her pass, tucking the envelope in her pocket. Crossing the hall, she took the steps two at a time. Once in her room with the door securely locked, she pulled the letter out and examined it more closely. It was hard to tell but she was fairly sure the flap had been steamed and resealed. A valid assumption based on her knowledge of the inn keepers and the warnings she’d had from both Tom and Winnie. No matter, she decided, it couldn’t be anything too important as the copperplate handwriting was her father’s. She sat on the edge of the bed and slit the envelope open.
Monday June 25, 1917
Dear Daughter,
I write to you with happy news. As you will no doubt recall our conversation before you left for the bush country, you will also recall that I broached the issue of your as yet unmarried state. A woman of your age is considered a spinster in polite society, and your mother and I despair for you. With that in mind, I have taken the necessary steps to remedy the situation.”
Harriet blinked and read the first paragraph again, her jaw tense and a hard knot in her stomach. “How dare he?” she hissed. “How dare he? Does he think he can sell me to the highest bidder like a prize broodmare?” Taking a deep breath, she read on.
I realize you have sequestered yourself at that rundown lodge operated by those odious people and I have no chance of persuading you to come home to Sprucedale. With that in mind, I have taken the liberty of interviewing prospective husbands for you, and I am pleased to say I have, with consultation with your mother, chosen a man who I believe will be able to keep your wayward tendencies in line.
As aforementioned, I acknowledge your stubbornness and female hysteria in insisting on spending so much time away from polite society, so I, accompanied by your fiancé intend to arrive at Canoe Lake train station on the afternoon of July 4, 1917. You do not need to worry about arranging transportation for us from the station to your lodge as I have contacted the Thomases who operate the train station and they have informed me they are invited to the Dominion Day festivities at Mowat Lodge and will gladly give us transport.
I trust this finds with your approval and I look forward to introducing you to your future husband.
Your father,
Baldwin Ivan St. George
Sprucedale, Ontario
“Damn, damn, damn.” Harriet lurched to her feet, crumpling the letter in her hand. What in the name of God was she supposed to do now? “There is now way in hell I’m agreeing to marry some man I’ve never even met, no matter what Father has promised him.” She took a deep, steadying breath. “I’ll just refuse to go along with this insanity. I am of legal age and I have a secure income which he cannot touch, and I’ll be damned if some man Father has handpicked to take me off his hands will ever see a penny of it. Thank God Aunt Lois put all those provisions in her bequest.” She paced around the room, pausing to toss the cursed letter onto her dresser. “I will just refuse, he can’t make me do anything. He’s just going to have to see that and then he can explain it to whoever this man is.” She nodded firmly. “Yes, that’s how it will happen. Father will have to see reason.”
Still fuming, she washed quickly and changed into clean clothes. Stepping into the hall, she met Winnie coming from her room.
“All set?” Winnie beamed at her. “Tom is back from Tea Lake Dam, and he’s promised to ask Shan for the money.”
“That’s nice,” Harriet muttered, nervous thoughts still circling in her mind.
“What’s the matter?” Winnie took her arm. “Did something happen? Was it that letter Annie was on about?”
“Oh, yes. Definitely the letter. It’s from my father, and he’s planning on showing up here today.”
“Whatever for?” Winnie frowned. “Is there trouble at home he’s come to tell you about? Some sickness perhaps?”
“Oh, there’s trouble all right, but not at home. Father,” she bit the word off, “has decided that I need to be married and he’s on his way here with his chosen candidate for my hand.”
“Oh, my! No wonder Annie looked so smug when she told me there was a letter for you. What are you going to do? Surely you don’t intend to marry this man?” Winnie grasped her hand. “Is there anything I can do to help you? You’re welcome to hide out at the cottage...”
“Thank you, but that shouldn’t be necessary. I will just explain to Father that there is no way I will agree to whatever arrangements he has made. And that should be that.”
“How can you be so sure? For him to make the journey up here, and on a holiday at that, he must be certain of his success. Wouldn’t it be better if you just weren’t around when he gets here?”
Harriet shook her head. “I’m not afraid of him and I refuse to run away like a wayward child. I’m a grown woman, quite capable of surviving on my own without a man to guide me. Come, let’s go down and join the crowd.” She led the way down the stairs and out into the clearing by the fire.
Winnie followed her, biting her lip. Fathers could be so unpredictable and troublesome at times. While her father might have heard about Winnie’s attachment to Tom Thomson, she hadn’t had the courage to broach the subject of her engagement with him yet. Let alone that she feared she was with child. She shuddered; she could only imagine what his reaction to that would be. Time enough to worry about that later. Tonight, she intended to have a good time and if need be run interference for Harriet with her father.
The two women stepped out into the gathering dusk and made their way toward the fire where the smoke chased away the clouds of mosquitoes and biting insects.