excerpt
…and Sarah did not complain. The old house had no insulation,
and the wind found its way in through walls that, in other seasons,
appeared sturdy enough. It was not unusual for them to awaken in
the morning with the flannelette sheet and blankets, where their
breath had dampened the material, frozen against their chins. Each
night Sarah moved the house plants – geraniums and begonias
that Ben said his mother had lovingly tended – to the centre of the
kitchen table where she covered them with a light cloth. She did the
same with the pitchers of milk and cream, carrying them from the
pantry to the kitchen where the cookstove would provide enough
warmth until the early morning hours to keep them from freezing.
The weeks passed slowly. No one came to the house, and Sarah
was unable to ride Flicka or drive the old pickup truck to the Mc-
Neill farm. She spent the days sewing new curtains and knitting
socks and mitts from the wool she had bought on her last trip to
Nimkus in late October. She wrote endless letters to Margaret and
Elizabeth in Ontario, and waited impatiently for the mail that Ben
brought home from his infrequent trips to town with the team and
sleigh.
For the most part they lived by their own resources on the provisions
they had in the house. But Sarah looked forward to the vegetable
garden she planned to plant in the spring. She had searched
out Mrs. Fielding’s canning jars so that she could preserve everything
she could get her hands on through the summer months.
These plans and activities helped to pass the long days and the
even longer evenings. But she missed the companionship of others,
especially Penny. What would she give to be able to sit down to a
cup of tea in Penny’s cheerful kitchen? And how she longed to see
little David who, when she had last seen him, was beginning to take
a few faltering steps around the furniture. By now he would be running
all over the house.
She thought of David when she read Margaret’s latest letter. It
was four pages of the delights of motherhood, along with every
detail of her new daughter’s first two months of life. As she read,
Sarah felt a familiar ache deep inside her where she had been sure
that, by now, new life would be growing. Why wasn’t it? Could there
be something wrong with her? Ben never spoke of a family and,
although she had once casually mentioned that he needed a son to…
