Village Squire, 1978-08, Page 15I love this old farm house, love my old kitchen, wooden ice box
that Cyril remade for me. That will go with the farm, not with the
other movables in the house. I go to the ice box, take out the
huge pails of lemonade one by one. Alice is here too, she looks at
at me sympathetically but I avoid her gaze, knowing that if our
eyes meet it is likely I'll break down. Joan goes on telling gossip
stories about the neighbours on the lawn. Arnold Hepman's girl
is getting thick around the waist, and a few weeks since that
French boy left town.
Cyril said, 'You have your children and you love them all. One
of them might love you in return with same heart that you have.'
We have five children. Daniel was the oldest, alway lively,
always chasing dreams, fun to have around but never a help
when it came time to work. He'd fall asleep in the grainery at
milking time. Then Joan, my daughter who needs to mother me.
Adrian died five years ago working in a mine in the Northwest
Territories. Cyril never said, but I think he placed his hopes for
the farm on Adrian. He was twenty one when he died. Then
Rachel, she married a chemist and moved to Texas. Rachel is
sympathetic and she calls long distance a lot. A baby is coming in
the winter. She wants me down for Christmas. Then my last
daughter. Mary Rose. Odd girl, just twenty three now, the only
one of our children who went to university. All in a dither about
what to do with her life. She's coming today from the city, moral
support she said. She was mad when she found out about how I'd
given in to Joan. No moral support at the right time. Cyril loved
that girl. Though I named the others, he was the one that called
her Mary Rose.
I feel a headache coming on, and I wish that this day would go
on forever so that I wouldn't have to walk past the busy kitchen
into the empty rooms. Wouldn't have to go away this evening
with Joan and her husband Alec to the place in McGee. Alice
takes the pails out to the picnic table and she gives Joan some
paper cups to carry, getting her out of the house, she knows I
need to be alone.
Oh it's a terrible day. I steeled myself for it, but it's worse than
I thought. Maybe Cyril is turning in his grave. Maybe there was
some message of his that I didn't get, that I didn't listen to. It's
not right this, I can feel it's not right, but it's too late to turn
back. I want for a moment to still the chatter of the people on my
grass, imagine myself a young woman baking bread like 1 did
when we first moved here, my husband coming into the quiet
kitchen, Cyril tired after being in the fields all day. Giving me a
kiss on the cheek, reticent about his dirty clothes and hands, I,
not caring, hugging him and setting a pot of tea. But I can't
capture it, desperate as I am, I can't call it back.
The screen door slams, I turn around and it's Mary Rose,
flushed it seems, and all out of breath. She's a fine looking girl
and I'm glad she's here.
"Mother", Mary Rose says abrubtly, "Mother, I told John
Bell to stop the sale. The furniture's almost gone, I'm sorry it
took me so long, the traffic was bad. But all the stock is left. I've
made up my mind to come home. We'll do a1i'ght here
together."
I try to be practical. to stop the clammering excitement from
jumping in my veins, try to be the mother, in control.
"But it's not what you went to school for Mary Rose, it's not
for you."
"Yes. I think it is Mother." She's calm now, after the first
rush to get it out. How like her father she is, calm, conviction and
few words, quiet eyes. Yes, I can see that it's right.
She says, "John Bell wants you to come and tell him yourself.
We'll have to pay him off anyway."
"All right," I say, moving toward the kitchen door. The world
has fallen back into place. I stand by the screen with Mary Rose
looking out at the people who will be disappointed, curious,
sympathetic. "Won't Joan be mad?" I say gleefully, looking
aside at my youngest daughter and our eyes meet. She puts I-, r
hand on my arm and we both laugh.
Cyril said, 'If the boy don't want it he don't. No use forcinf
him. Think about the others.'
1 should have listened. E
You are invited
to come to the factory
and see the quality
for yourself.
FACTORY OPEN FOR INSPECTION
WEEKDAYS 8:30-11:30 a.m., 1-3 p.m.
OR BY APPOINTMENT.
•
NORTHLANDER
•
A complete line of 12
and 14 wides now available.
Now also building
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An alternate form of
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�ihESt
—
Manufactured in Canada by
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165 Thames Rd. E.
Exeter, Ontario [Box 190]
(5191235-1530 Telex 064-5815.
VILLAGE SQUIRE/AUGUST 1978. PG. 13.