Into the Blue by Andrea Curtis

Author:Andrea Curtis [Curtis, Andrea]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 978-0-307-36884-3
Publisher: Random House of Canada
Published: 2003-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

Sunday, November 25, 1906, 6 a.m., the Crawford house

Lillie stokes the kitchen stove and sits down at the table. The children are still asleep and the streets outside are deserted. Just the wind to keep her company. Like a living thing it’s so noisy. She can almost convince herself it’s a normal autumn Sunday. They’ll have a big breakfast of eggs and sausage, griddle cakes and tea, then she’ll bundle up the little ones and they’ll all head off to the 8 a.m. church service together.

But there has been nothing about the last two days that is ordinary. When she went out to the dry-goods store yesterday the girl at the counter, who she’s never said more than good day to, pressed her hand and whispered, “God bless” as she gave her her change. Lillie instinctively pulled her hand away. It embarrassed them both.

And the fiancée of one of Jim’s crew—the Sadler boy, the second engineer—stopped her on the way home, right near the house, and embraced her. Imagine. The girl looked so desperate, her face pale and puffy—though she’d gone to the effort of putting rouge on her cheeks. When she tried to speak, her voice went up an octave and her breath got short. Eventually, she managed to choke out that they were to be married at Christmas, that just that week Wesley, her fiancé, had ordered a black four-button suit from Eaton’s. Lillie had stepped back from her and nodded politely, her bad arm heavy as an anvil at her side.

Still, it wasn’t the girls that upset her. It was John Macaulay, looking so hollow and wan, his usually immaculate suit crushed and tired. He’s come by twice. He speaks in a matter-of-fact way, discounting the rumours that are passing through town. But everything about him—even his presence at the house—makes her wonder if his reassurances are meant as much for himself as for her.

Even little Eleanor and Dick seem to sense that something is not quite right. Eleanor has been clinging to her skirts, demanding to be held. And Dick has had two tantrums in two days. The older children have been trying to help out but yesterday afternoon she told them to leave, to go out and find their friends. She said that their father has been late before, God knows, and he’ll surely be late again. All four of them, Madge, Whitney, Tyson and Bert, seemed glad to get away.

Lillie rakes her fingers through her loose hair and rubs her temples. She touches the papery skin beneath her eyes with the tip of her index finger. She feels old. Too old for the demands of small children. Too old for this kind of worry. Too old to care for this brood all on her own. Jim had better send word about where he is soon, she thinks fiercely, as if the force of her anger will ensure his survival.

She gets up and walks through the warm kitchen into the parlour. The familiar creak of the pine boards beneath her feet is more solace than any words John Macaulay can offer.

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