When Mass was over, Godfrey joined his brother and sister-in-law in the queue of people waiting to congratulate the happy couple.
"You really must join us for supper sometime," said a heavy-set woman as she held Diana's hand.
"Thank you, Mrs. Traynor," the young woman replied, her eyes flashing towards Godfrey who stood awkwardly between his brother and Antonia as they waited patiently for their turn.
"Be sure to tell Catherine I said hello," Diana added, returning her attention to the woman in front of her.
"I will," Mrs. Traynor said warmly, her face red and shining. "Ohhhhh," she gushed, patting Henry's chest and giving his cheek a gentle pinch. "You two make a fine pair!"
The young man's ears reddened and Godfrey resisted the urge to smile. He wasn't much older than him - if at all - and he wondered how he would react to Mrs. Traynor's motherly affections - if it were him standing there. To his credit, Henry Lapalme seemed to take it rather well and he recovered from his embarrassment enough to thank the woman and promise to go to dinner at theirs one evening.
Mrs. Traynor moved along after a drawn out goodbye and it was their turn to give their congratulations.
"Diana," said Antonia brightly, taking the young woman's hand in hers.
The two women, close in age, proceeded to chit-chat while Isaac shook hands with Henry.
"Let me introduce my brother," he said after a minute, stepping aside and making way for Godfrey to step forwards. "This is Godfrey. We convinced him to come out here last Fall."
Henry smiled and extended a hand. "Nice to meet you, Godfrey."
"Pleasure."
"How do you like it so far? Are you farming?"
Godfrey nodded. "Yes. I bought a quarter section at Greenshields."
"Just like your brothers, eh?" said the young man with a grin.
"Yeah."
"And...what do you think?"
"It's...alright. The same as back home in some ways. Different in others."
Antonia interrupted them then to introduce Godfrey to Diana. "...yes. Isaac's younger brother. Only by a few years, though," she added hastily, seeing the frown slowly forming on Godfrey's face.
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Godfrey."
Diana shook his hand.
"You as well," said Godfrey politely. "And congratulations, by the way."
"Awww. Thank you."
"Godfrey here is a far cry from his brothers when it comes to matters of etiquette," Antonia announced proudly.
"I can see that," said Diana. "And, I overheard Henry asking how you like it out here. How do you like it out here? Better than Québec? The same?"
"It's...different," he said slowly, finally, somewhat dismayed that he could think of nothing more intelligent to say.
Diana nodded as a school teacher would. "Yes, and? Different how? What I mean to say, I guess, is that all of us Quebecers have found it to be different out here...but what's struck you the most?"
Godfrey looked at his brother, unsure how to answer. Isaac simply shrugged.
"Uh...the language, obviously," he answered, returning his attention to Diana. "That's going to take some time. Maybe a few years."
The young woman's expression was sympathetic.
"And...the emptiness."
"Oh, we have a poet in our midst, ladies and gentlemen," said Antonia teasingly, clearly wishing to garner some of the attention being lavished on Godfrey.
Godfrey ignored his sister-in-law. "It's empty. There's no one around. You look outside and you don't see anybody. Especially in the winter. It's like...you're on a different planet or something."
Diana smiled. "It's hard, the first few years. Takes some getting used to. But just wait until you get properly settled. Soon you'll meet someone special. You'll start a family. And it'll all come together nicely."
Godfrey nodded, business-like, suddenly wondering whether he should begin actively seeking a wife.
It would make things a little easier...
"But don't force it," she added, seeming to read his thoughts. "Just let it happen. Things have a way of working out, here," she said, taking her husband's hand and setting her warm, smiling gaze upon his face.
"Right...thanks."
Godfrey didn't quite know what to say and he still hadn't found the words as they said their goodbyes a minute later.
"We'll come over one afternoon."
"That would be nice, Antonia."
"See you later, Godfrey."
"Bye. Nice to meet you. Congratulations, again."
"Thank you. Don't be a stranger. See you next Sunday."
April 6, 1921
Dear Godfrey,
Thank you for your letter. Mom, Charles and everyone are doing just fine. Josephine had a bad flu a few months ago and we thought we'd lost her. But she recovered and is back to her normal (and annoying) self.
I was sorry to hear you had such a hard time this winter. Hopefully the next one will be better. Do be sure to build yourself a house and live in something more comfortable.
Wishing you all the best,
Francine
"You don't talk much."
Godfrey glanced at the young woman seated beside him, already regretting he'd asked her to be his date for the Easter Feaster.
"I don't have much to say."
In truth, he had lots to say. Francine's letter had really bothered him; it had been so short and impersonal. Did she not love him anymore? Had she forgotten him? His mind was caught in a storm.
Fréderique Touchette sniffed and returned her attention to the dance floor where two dozen couples were swaying to the soft, melodic tunes being churned out by the six-member orchestra seated off the stage. He felt somewhat guilty for not paying her more attention. For not wanting to dance. Especially when everyone else seemed to be. But he couldn't take his mind off the letter. He couldn't stop himself from thinking about Francine and whether she still had feelings for him or, and this was almost too much to bear, whether she'd moved on.
Fréderique must have sensed his discontent because she asked if she could get him a drink from the bar. Touched by her apparent concern, he accepted and handed her a dollar bill, telling her to get a drink for herself as well.
She'd taken the money and disappeared, not returning with his drink until much later, and when she did, with a male acquaintance hanging on her arm. Her concern, if indeed she'd had any, had obviously not lasted long.
"This is Réal."
Godfrey exchanged a nod with the swarthy looking fellow. With piercing, almost black eyes and a crop of messy brown hair, the young man looked menacing.
"We're going to go and find my sisters."
"Sure," was all Godfrey managed to say, glancing at Réal who seemed to be goading him with his gaze.
"Come on, Réal," the girl said indignantly, pulling her new date towards the dance floor.
Godfrey watched them go, happy to be free of his date.
He'd loved Francine. She'd loved him. So what happened? He'd only been gone eight months. Maybe if he invited her out here? Though she probably wouldn't want to leave her mother to watch the kids on her own. What to do...
The music and the dancing continued for another hour, with Godfrey looking on in amusement as some adolescent couples snuck away to steal some unsupervised alone time together. Eventually the large clock in the hall chimed eleven times, bringing the nineteen twenty-one edition of the Easter Feaster to a close, and a bored Godfrey followed Isaac and Antonia out of the Elite Theatre and into the street where lines of wagons and motor cars were waiting to take the tired, happy, and well-fed attendees home.
Chapter Four
Godfrey unfurled the pages of the Wainwright Star and laid out page eight, pressing it flat on the table. His eyes scanned the pages, searching for an article to copy. When he found one, he sharpened his pencil and began writing.
New Swine Policy. National System of Grading Hogs for Marketing Instituted.
Swine. Hogs. How many words doe
s a language need for pig?
The Dominion Department of Agriculture is taking immediate action to give effect to the national swine policy outlined at the conference of producers, packers and agricultural officials, held at Ottawa last November, according to a statement issued by the department. All hogs marketed at public stock yards and abattoirs –
Abattoirs...that word must mean the same thing as in French.
- on and after June 1 next, will be sold according to official grades in which a minimum premium of ten percent -
Premium?
Just when he thought he was doing well, a word would come up an smack him cruelly in the face. Like a whip, punishing him for his ignorance. Would he ever become fluent in English? Sighing, he continued copying.
Spring began in earnest three weeks later and it was time to plow. With Leo's help and Isaac's tractor and breaking plow, Godfrey managed to get his quarter section plowed and ready for seeding in just three days.
There'd been a good amount of rain since April and Leo surmised the season would be a good one.
"April showers bring May flowers," he'd said gruffly.
With just two days until the Burkholder's would begin selling seed, Godfrey decided he would grow wheat this year and barley the next, alternating between the two crops every year thereafter to ensure good soil for years to come.
"Useless. Completely."
Godfrey looked quizzically at his brother. "He seems alright. How old is he anyway?"
Leo glanced begrudgingly at the straw-coloured plow horse tied to the hitching post.
"Only six, but he walks like he's twice that. Stupid animal."
Godfrey ignored his brother's remark and moved towards the creature, extending a hand in greeting. The horse turned towards him, working its nostrils over the young man's hand and finally bowing his head in quiet obedience.
"There's a good boy," said Godfrey gently, caressing the beast's firm snout. "You remind me of my Rodolphe and Rocket back home."
"Mom and dad still have those two old boys?" Leo asked, his tone incredulous.
Godfrey grinned. "Yep."
"Jesus."
The horse eventually grew tired of Godfrey's affections and pulled away.
"Tell you what," Leo began, removing his hat and wiping the beads of sweat from his forehead. "Give me twenty dollars and you can have him - I'll even give you until after harvest to pay."
"Don't you need him?" asked Godfrey, studying the horse.
Leo shook his head. "I'm buying one from the Rajotte's. They've got a nice Hackney they can't afford to keep anymore and it's just too good a deal to pass up."
Godfrey nodded and returned his attention to the animal in front of him.
"He got a name?"
"Cheval."
Godfrey couldn't help but laugh. "You called him horse?"
"That's what he is, ain't he?"
"I guess...though some would argue that a horse deserves a better name...something more original."
"You want him or not?" Leo asked hotly. "Or would you prefer to stand here and argue about stupid things all afternoon?"
Godfrey summoned a smile, enough to hide the anger rising up inside of him. He was growing tired of his brother's brutish attitude. That was one thing he'd not missed about him when Leo had been out here and he back in Québec. Now, living practically next door and spending so much time around him, Godfrey was painfully reminded of what he'd disliked about his older brother. "He looks healthy. How are his hooves?"
"Have a look and see for yourself. Best you pick one of the front ones though - he'll kick you if you try for anything else."
"Fair enough."
Godfrey bent down on one knee. "There's a good boy," he said soothingly, running his hand down the back of the animal's front leg and tapping two fingers against the fetlock.
The horse snorted softly and lifted the leg for Godfrey to inspect.
"There's some mud in here," he said slowly, examining the underside of Cheval's hoof. "Have you got a pick?"
Leo seemed annoyed by the question and muttered something under his breath. Nevertheless, he disappeared into the barn and returned a minute later with the implement.
"Thanks."
Bracing himself against the animal's bulk, Godfrey picked the mud from the creature's hoof, all the while issuing soft words of encouragement.
"Jesus, you've already made him yours," said Leo irritably as he looked on, his arms slung over the railing.
Godfrey grinned as he released the horse's leg and stood up straight. "All he needed was a bit of lovin'."
Leo rolled his eyes. "Animals are meant for workin'. Not lovin'."
"Doesn't hurt to be nice to 'em," Godfrey mused. "After all, they're what's earning your living."
"Yeah, yeah...so you want him or what?"
Godfrey nodded. "I'm interested...he's definitely healthy - "
"You can always turn around and sell him if he don't work out," Leo interrupted. "Heck, even the glue factory'd give ya five dollars for him."
Another crude remark. Though that was to be expected; Leo had always been tough on his animals - even back at home. Godfrey turned and set his gaze once more upon the massive creature standing before him as he reflected on the proposition.
The horse would be able to work for another four years. At least. Maybe more. And he did need a second - Chloe - the old Percheron he'd got at auction the second week of March wouldn't be good for work much longer. Not to mention, twenty dollars was a steal of a deal.
"I'll take him," said Godfrey firmly, his mind made up.
He turned towards his brother.
Leo looked pleased. "Good riddance."
Chapter Five
Godfrey stared greedily at his plot of land. It was June now and a million, tiny green shoots dotted the dark soil. There'd been just the right amount of rain - not too much and not too little. The skies, unlike back home, were open and cloudless giving the burgeoning plants ample opportunity to soak up the sun. The pests were minimal and Ozias, the cat Antonia Messier had gifted him shortly after Easter, took care of the few rodents that did happen to wander onto his field. Yep. He could expect to do well this year.
June 6, 1921
Dear Francine,
I'm glad to hear that you and your mother and Charles and Josephine are doing well. I miss you. I miss Montreal. Not everything - but some things. Mainly the hustle and bustle of downtown. The streetcars. The cinema.
Wainwright is nice enough. They've got most everything a person needs. Especially for the farmer. Hardware stores and liveries. Machine shops and lumber yards. A lot of general stores - which sell a bit of everything. But still, sometimes I miss all the excitement of the big city.
I guess it's worth mentioning though that there are some real swell people out here. Friendly. And there are lots of Quebecers too. Almost enough to make me think I'm at home sometimes. Especially after Mass when we all get together to trade news and the only language you hear for half an hour is French.
All in all, I'm happy I moved out here. There's much more opportunity. Alberta is booming. The one thing I don't have though...is you.
Would you ever consider joining me out here? You could easily find work - your mom too. They need seamstresses, launderers, nurses - everything. I know it's a long shot - and maybe I shouldn't even be asking because it was my decision to move out here and maybe if I'd stayed in Québec things could have been different between us. But I'm out here now and I have a farm and I don't really have a choice but to commit to this.
My imagination is running wild now and I can't help but picture it. Your mom and the kids living in town - your mom can work for one of the French families doing laundry or cooking or whatever. You and I here on the farm. You'll pick up English quick and can get a good paying job at the hospital doing laundry or as a nurse's assistant. We could make a good life here together.
Anyway, I hope I haven't scared you off with my rambling. I really miss you and I some
times think that maybe I'd be better off had I stayed in Québec. Maybe we'd still be together. It's hard not being able to see you. (And I used to think that waiting a week or two to see you sometimes, was tough...)
Anyway, I hope this letter finds you well. Be sure to give me some news from Montreal. I haven't heard much.
Love,
Godfrey
"And Juliette Croteau, will you have François Girard to be your wedded husband and to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Will you submit to him, serve him, love, honor, and obey him, in sickness and in health, and, forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, so long as you both shall live?"
Father McGrane paused and Godfrey watched the young bride closely as she nodded.
"I will."
The priest smiled and turned to face the groom. "What pledge do you give of the sincerity of your vows?"
"A ring," he answered stoically.
Father McGrane nodded and fixed his gaze on the bride. "Do you accept this ring as a pledge of the sincerity of François Girard's vows?"
"I do."
"Ohhhh, I do like a Spring wedding," gushed the young woman seated beside Godfrey, suddenly, dabbing at her eyes.
"They are lovely," agreed her attractive friend in a perfunctory tone.
Godfrey, completely distracted by their chatter, watched them from the corner of his eye. Somehow, reminded of their presence, he felt more uncomfortable than he had before. Perhaps because these were the types of girls Antonia had been referring to when she'd promised there'd be lots of "single, young women at the wedding." She'd said it with a smile. As though she envied his freedom. His freedom to pick and choose.
"And may these rings given," boomed Father McGrane's voice, recapturing Godfrey's attention, "be the outward and visible signs of an inward and spiritual bond which unites your two hearts in love that has no end. Forasmuch as Juliette Croteau and François Girard have consented in holy wedlock, and have thereto confirmed the same by giving and receiving each one a ring; by the authority bestowed upon me as a minister of the Church of our Lord Jesus Christ, I now declare you husband and wife according to the ordinance of God, and the laws of the Dominion, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."