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them in soap and water and set the table with them. She had stoked
up the fire in the range to prepare a casserole of scalloped potatoes
and warm up the pork shoulder Mrs. Thompson had cooked during
the week.
Yesterday, with the intention of making a pie, the two women
had gone out to the bushes north of the farm to pick Saskatoon
berries. But when they came to make the pastry they could not find
any lard in the house, so there would be fresh berries with sugar
and thick cream for dessert.
When Ben came in he looked surprised to see no meal laid out
on the kitchen table. But he did not wear his usual scowl when
something upset him. Taking this as a good sign – and in a moment
of coquettishness – Sarah took him by the hand and led him to the
front room. He did not withdraw from this first gesture of intimacy
they had shared. A faint smile crossed his face when he saw what
she had done with the table.
“Long time since we had a tablecloth and nice dishes in this
house,” he said.
She hoped he would change back into the suit he had worn for
the wedding but he sat down at the table in his overalls. Because she
promised herself she would not start off their married life by nagging,
she let it go. But she still wore her white dress. Removing her
apron, she tossed it over a chair and sat down across from him.
He appeared to enjoy the meal but he ate in silence, as usual. Sarah
longed to talk about the wedding ceremony, but fear of invoking
his anger towards the townspeople in general, and Mr. Andrews in
particular, made her hold her tongue. Ben had been less than complimentary
about the station agent as they drove away from the
church, saying in a loud voice, “Interfering old bastard.” Sarah had
quickly rolled up the truck window.
She tried to think of a safe topic of conversation, and finally decided
to ask about his family. “You told me your mother died three
years ago, Ben, but what about your father? When did you lose
him?”
“He died when I was seven years old. Killed in the first war.”
“Oh, how terrible for you.”
“Didn’t bother me none. I hardly knew him. All I remember is
that he was tall and skinny. He left when I was four…
Manolis Aligizakis 