Godfrey: Trouble From Toronto, Page 4

  Isaac lowered his newspaper and folded it over his knee. “I'll make myself scarce.”

  Antonia placed her hands on her hips and stared at her husband. “Isaac...it's a horse. You can get another one...”

  “How can you say that!?” Isaac was red-faced. “You realize Rouge carried me to the clinic that time my appendix nearly burst? That animal saved my life...” He was more hurt than angry and Antonia wished it was the other way around because she couldn't stand to see him in pain. “And some bloody rodent ruined him. Broke his leg. And I had to shoot him.”

  “Isaac...please...just - ”

  “- Antonia! He was my horse and I had to...end his life. You don't know what that's like.”

  Antonia ran her hands through her hair, arching her neck, wracking her brain for something to say that wouldn't set him off.

  “And now he's gone...” Isaac continued, “and that's it...I'll never get him back.”

  “Isaac...I know it's hard...but we've got to move on. We've got a farm to run...a family to have...and right now Isaac...me and you...this stuff is just pushing us apart.”

  Isaac sighed heavily and lowered his eyes to the floor.

  “I'm sorry, Isaac. I am. Really. But...we can't just throw our hands up and get pissed off and fight all day. At the end of a day, I'd like to think our relationship is more important than a horse.”

  Isaac raised his head and looked at his wife. “It...it is more important...”

  Antonia looked at him.

  “I mean...our relationship is more important,” he continued. “I just...I just need some time.” He sighed.

  “Ohhhhh, Isaac.” Antonia went to him and took his head in her arms, cradling it and planting a kiss on his forehead. “I'll give you all the time you need. Just...don't shut me out, alright? I'm here for you. You know that.”

  Isaac nodded and looked at his wife as she shifted to sit on the armrest, her legs draped over his. “I know.”

  GODFREY

  Wednesday evening. Wainwright Hotel. Godfrey is having supper in the restaurant.

  “I'll have the steak please.”

  The waiter nodded, his white and black uniform crisp and freshly ironed. “And would you like potatoes or a salad with that?”

  Godfrey had to think for a second. How hungry was he?

  “I'll get the potatoes.”

  The waiter smiled. “Excellent.” He took Godfrey's menu. “It won't be long.”

  Godfrey nodded and the waiter left.

  The dining room at the Wainwright Hotel was quiet for a change, with only a handful of supper hour patrons occupying its many white table clothed tables. There was more choice in town now when it came to dining out – with the Tang's Chinese restaurant and Pete's Diner having opened up the month before. Not that many folks in town were adventurous enough to eat at a Chinese restaurant...though he'd spoken to a few who'd had something called dim sum after Mass. What this town needed was a classy joint – like the kind they had in Montreal. A place with good food and musicians every night...but farmers weren't city folk – as Hector had clearly established this morning – and Albertans weren't Montrealers.

  As he pondered further, the differences between Albertans and Montrealers, and questioned whether in fact he now considered himself an Albertan – Leo plopped down in the chair opposite.

  “I thought you might have decided to stay in.”

  Leo looked at his younger brother. “Hmph. And eat what? I've got nothing but a few cans of beans.” He opened his menu and scanned the contents.

  “That's been good enough for me before. My first year out here...when I lived in the grain elevator.” Godfrey shook his head in disbelief as he recalled his first year in Wainwright.

  Leo grunted as he studied his menu.

  “I ordered the steak. And potatoes.”

  “I had steak last time,” Leo grumbled.

  Godfrey played with his fork. “Their chicken's good.”

  Leo nodded. “That's what I'll get.” He set the menu – a single sheet of beige card stock – on the table and poured himself a cup of tea. “You get that slough drained yet?”

  Godfrey shook his head. “No...I figure I'll wait another week...let it evaporate on its own - ”

  “ - that slough ain't gonna evaporate on its own.”

  Godfrey ignored him. “We're supposed to be up to fifteen degrees starting about now...at least that's what the Almanac says.”

  “You can't always trust the Almanac.” Leo stirred cream and sugar into his tea. “We've had some unpredictable weather the past few years. Like last winter. Warmest winter I've seen since I've been out here.”

  Godfrey nodded, his fingers still toying with his fork. “Well, we'll see. Like I said, I'll a wait another week and then I guess I'll have to drain it.”

  “You should drain it now – that slough'll damage the soil underneath it – you won't be able to grow anything.”

  “I'll throw some manure on it.”

  “It's already seeding time, Godfrey.”

  Godfrey pursed his lips and stared off into space. “I know.”

  “So drain that damned slough already.”

  ANTONIA

  Wednesday evening. Catholic Women's League meeting. Antonia's house.

  “Okay, ladies! Please, we've got lots to discuss tonight so let's get this meeting underway,” said Antonia, smiling sweetly.

  The nine well-dressed women – all members of the Wainwright chapter of the Catholic Women's League and milling about in Antonia's living room – quieted quickly, setting their plates and cups aside and taking their seats.

  “As per usual, I'll be our chair for this evening and Paulette will be in charge of minutes.”

  “Are we going to vote for our treasurer?” asked Elizabeth, looking concerned.

  Antonia glanced around the living room at the other ladies. Judging by their expressions, they seemed to be as keen as Elizabeth. “Yes...at some point tonight...we'll hold another vote for our treasurer.” Angelique hadn't come...and without her the vote would likely go to Marie...

  “I say we vote now,” Elizabeth continued, “and get it out of the way first thing.”

  “The problem with that, Elizabeth,” said Antonia, trying her best to maintain her composure despite the circumstances, “is that we have the same women here this week as last week. And last week the vote ended in a draw. So I would rather give other ladies a bit more time to arrive – and then we can vote.

  “What other ladies are we expecting?”

  Antonia didn't want to say because if Angelique didn't come tonight, and Elizabeth knew she was close to coming, she would surely speak to Angelique about voting for Marie.

  “I don't quite recall...” Antonia answered with a tight smile. “But we'll give them a bit of time – whoever they are.”

  Marie cleared her throat as though announcing she had something to say.

  Antonia looked at her. “Yes, Marie?”

  “I'd like to know if our quilt sale is on the agenda.”

  Antonia glanced at her clipboard. “No, it's not. And frankly, since our quilt sale isn't until June, I don't see a point in discussing it for another few weeks.”

  “Well, I think we should figure out who's doing what. I mean, last year remember how Mrs. Iverson's quilt was almost identical to Mrs. King's? It was quite embarrassing.” Marie looked around the room for confirmation of this 'fact' but was met largely with raised eyebrows and quizzical expressions.

  Antonia smiled. “I really don't think matching quilts are a travesty, Marie. The fact we actually have ladies still willing to enter quilts is something to be grateful for as I know many of us struggle to find the time to complete one.”

  Marie nodded, though her expression still suggested she disagreed with Antonia.

  “Anyway,” said Antonia, looking around the room at the other ladies, “how about we get started? Our first item on the agenda for this evening is Sunday School.”

  Several of the wom
en emitted muted murmurings.

  “Miss Lafrance is still asking for more space given the number of children recently added to our congregation,” Antonia continued. “I propose we have an extension built onto the space they're currently using. I don't imagine this would cost too much – we'll get some men to volunteer their time for the labour and we'll hold bake sale or two to raise money for supplies.”

  “Why is it that every time Miss Lafrance asks for something, everyone jumps to get it for her?” asked Christine, looking somewhat annoyed.

  Antonia looked at her. “I don't think that's fair, Christine.”

  “Why not? Just last month she was asking for a new wagon to take her to and from church! She only lives a few miles away! When Betty was our Sunday School teacher,” Christine glanced at Elizabeth seated at the opposite end of the room, “she never asked for so much as a package of paper.”

  “Does everyone else feel the same way?” asked Antonia, her eyes switching from one woman to the next.

  There were some who simply shrugged, others who mustered a murmur, and still others who clearly had an opinion on the matter. “Well, yes, to be quite blunt,” said Thérèse, “Miss Lafrance is asking for too much. The church was only built a few years ago. It took us years to get that money together. And then the building itself – my Byron spent two months working day and night to help get it done – and I know many of your husbands and relatives helped as well,” she added, looking at the others. “Let's leave the Sunday School space as it is for now. Maybe in a few more years when we've all the appetite for more fundraising and more building we can look at the matter again.”

  “But...can't we get money from the diocese?” asked Marie, sitting up straight.

  Antonia looked at the young woman. Perhaps she wasn't so brainless after all...

  “I don't see why we couldn't,” said Elizabeth, smiling at the young woman.

  “They've got loads of money,” said Huguette.

  “Yes, but do we want to be pestering them for money for an addition to our Sunday School?” asked Christine. “Couldn't that money be better spent elsewhere? We do need a new organ...”

  “We don't need a new organ,” snapped Huguette. “The one we've got is just fine.”

  Christine looked at her. “Um, have you ever been at the back? You can hardly hear it.”

  “That's not a problem with the organ...that's the acoustics,” Huguette argued.

  “What's an acoustic?” asked Marie with child-like curiousity.

  Antonia sighed. “Please, ladies, we are considerably off topic - ”

  A sudden knocking at the door interrupted Antonia mid-sentence.

  Antonia smiled. That was surely Angelique. She smiled at the ladies as she rose from her chair and set down her clipboard. “I'll go and see who that is.”

  The women continued their arguing – albeit in softer tones – as Antonia went to greet whoever was at the front door.

  “Henri..” she said, crestfallen, when she finally opened it. “How can I help you? Isaac's not home right now...”

  “Yeah, he said he probably wouldn't be. We were talking yesterday and he said I could come by and borrow one of his extra harnesses. See, my colt's just outgrown his over the winter and it's going to be awhile until I can get to Edmonton and - ”

  Antonia waved a hand as though to shush him. “Yes, it's not a problem. Did he say he would leave it somewhere?”

  Henri could tell she was put off by something. “Yeah, he said he'd leave it just inside the barn door...is something the matter, Antonia?”

  She shook her head automatically. “No.”

  He looked at her with his handsome rugged face. “Are you sure? Isaac loves you, you know. He told me yesterday he felt bad for the way he's been behaving.”

  Antonia shook her head; as pleased as she was to hear Isaac was finally coming around, Angelique was still not at the meeting. “I was expecting Diana's sister to come to our meeting tonight.”

  “Who? Angelique?”

  Antonia nodded. “Yes. She was supposed to,” she lowered her voice, “vote for Huguette for treasurer so that I wouldn't be stuck with Marie.”

  “And she's not here?”

  “No,” said Antonia, clearly disappointed.

  “Well, I don't know. She's not at ours if that's what you're wondering – though I know Diana is planning to visit her tomorrow. Did you want me to pass along a message?”

  Antonia sighed. “No...”

  “It's no trouble,” said Henri.

  “No...it's alright. We'll just...have to make do.” She looked at Henri and offered a meek smile.

  “Well, if you're sure.”

  Antonia nodded. “I'm sure.” She added a proper smile for good measure. “Go on and get that harness.” She started to close the door.

  “I will, thanks. Have a good evening.”

  “Thanks, you too, Henri.”

  He tipped his hat and disappeared down the walk. Antonia closed the door and leaned against it for a minute, taking time to put her thoughts in order. The vote would have to go ahead...unless she suddenly pretended to be ill...and then the vote could be next week...

  “Antonia...you don't look so good...” said Marie as Antonia re-entered the living room.

  Several heads turned to look at her.

  “No, you don't. Here, quickly, have a seat.”

  “Do you have a damp cloth? Thérèse, go and find a damp cloth for her forehead.”

  “Here, Antonia. Sit down now...there's a girl...Marie, hand me that cushion please...let's get her propped up nice and comfortable, yeah.”

  “Goodness, there isn't something going around is there?”

  “Who was at the door, anyway?”

  “Henri,” she answered, finally managing to get a word in. “Henri was at the door.”

  “Henri Lapalme?”

  “What did he want?”

  “He's borrowing an extra harness of Isaac's.”

  “Oh.”

  “Thérèse – have you got that damp cloth ready yet? Antonia's looking rather parched.”

  “Really, I'm quite alright, ladies. Just...let me sit awhile...”

  “Nonsense,” said Huguette. “I think we should adjourn the meeting.”

  “Adjourn the meeting?” asked Elizabeth in a tone that suggested Huguette had just said something blasphemous.

  “Yes. Our hostess is sick and I say we leave her be. There's nothing tonight that we can't take care of next meeting.”

  A silence hung over the room as the women shuffled about, picking nervously at their buttons and ribbons and fiddling with their purses. It was Christine who finally broke the silence. “Come on, ladies. Let's go.”

  “But Stephen won't be here until eight to pick me up.”

  “We can give you a ride, Betty.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “It would be no trouble.”

  “We can take you too Betty, if you need,” Marie offered.

  Antonia drowned them out and lay back on the sofa, suddenly feeling a headache coming on.

  Serves me right for pretending...

  “Okay. Let's go.”

  “Yes, let's.”

  “Antonia – do feel better.”

  “Yes, Antonia, I'm sorry you're feeling off all of a sudden. I hope it's not a bug.”

  “Byron was sick with something last week. Spent all weekend on the toilet.”

  “Too much information, Thérèse!”

  There was some laughter, followed by more chatter, and then a final round of goodbyes as the last of the ladies headed outside and the door shut behind them.

  Once they were gone, Antonia waited for a while. She wanted to be sure when she stood up to close the curtains and tidy up the living room, that none of the ladies were watching.

  She counted to sixty. And then sixty again. And then sixty once more for good measure. After this, she knew it to be safe and she rose from the couch. The window looking out onto the front lawn showed
her that all her guests had left. All that remained was a dash of the setting sun – its dying rays lighting the new shoots of grass and budding trees.

  Phew...

  She had one more week to conjure a winning vote for Huguette. And this time she wouldn't rely on the whims of Angelique.

  GODFREY

  Thursday. Godfrey's helping Isaac load bags of seed onto his wagon outside Irving's Supply.

  “You're making that up,” said Isaac, his tone incredulous.

  Godfrey looked at his older brother. “I wish I were. You should have seen the way he looked at her.”

  Isaac exhaled as he shifted a third bag of seed onto the wagon so that it lay flat alongside the others. “Well, it's not like he'll be around for long – he's only here for a visit, ain't he?”

  “I don't know,” said Godfrey, grunting as he lifted one of the fifty pound bags up onto his shoulder and then onto the wagon. “I hope so...the less he's around, the better. His own dad doesn't even want him around.”

  “Who's his dad?”

  “Hector. The guy who owns the Tenth Street Cafe.”

  Isaac's face donned a look of sudden comprehension. “And...what makes you think he doesn't want Eddie around?”

  “I was in the cafe the other morning and they had this big argument.”

  Isaac hoisted another sack of seed onto the wagon. “What did they argue about?”

  “Something about Eddie being a 'big city' boy now and not appreciating his farmer roots...no longer making a living the honest way, but off the backs of others...since he's in the banking business or something...that kind of thing...”

  “Sounds like he won't be around for long,” said Isaac, adding another bag of seed to the wagon. “I wouldn't worry about it.”

  Godfrey nodded, wiping the sweat from his brow, the sun hot overhead. “As far as I'm concerned, so long as he's around, I'll be keeping an eye on him.”

  ANTONIA

  Thursday afternoon. In the kitchen at Antonia's. Antonia, Diana, and Antoinette are preparing supper for that evening.

  “Gosh darn it!” Antonia threw her hands in the air as Diana and Antoinette looked on. “I can't make a pie crust to save my life! How do you two do it? I mean...look at Annie's...it's perfect.”