him.
The fear led to anger. He couldn’t leave now! Not when we’d just discovered being together in this way.
“How could you…?” I said, beating my fists against his chest while I struggled to disentangle myself from him.
“What? How could I what, Ellie?” Jeff said, grabbing my wrists. He was so strong. But was he strong enough to come back?
Finding my underwear, I hastily pulled them back on and tried to straighten myself out. It wouldn’t do to show up at home looking this way. Mother would suspect something.
“How could you show me how wonderful it is to be together, then leave me stranded?” I said, hurrying towards the door.
He couldn’t catch me before I made it out to the porch. The cold night air felt especially chilly against my sweat-slicked skin. Before I could make it down the stairs, Jeff grabbed me, spun me around, and hugged me close. I noticed how his shirttails hung out of his pants. I could smell his sweat, and heat seemed to radiate from his body. Despite my anger, it felt nice.
“I’m sorry, Ellie. But I’ll be back. Trust me.”
“You can’t know that.”
“But I do. I know it deep inside, in the same place I know that I love you.”
“You’d better be right,” I said, burying my face in his chest and hugging him tightly. He hugged back, and planted a kiss on my forehead.
“I am,” he said, “I love you.”
When I didn’t respond, he let go of me, looked at me for a few moments, and then went back inside.
So, with the warmth of Jeff's kiss on my brow lingering, I went down the steps and went back to my home on Weber street.
Chapter 6
The next day at work I pricked my finger on the sewing machine. I couldn't concentrate at all.
A thousand questions and concerns raced through my mind as I sat there, running the machine with one foot, feeding the cotton uniform pieces through. The entire floor of the Bauer building was filled with women working in long rows.
Some of them chatted to each other, their voices a low drone over the hum of the sewing machines. Fresh cotton left the room smelling almost nice. It nearly covered the sharp scent of sweat.
"Ouch!" I said, biting back a "Damn it!" Some of the older women would give me the eye if I swore, and I'd hear of nothing but that at church, or during lunch, about how uncouth I'd been.
I put my finger in my mouth, the blood metallic against my tongue. Luckily, I hadn't gotten any on the shirt I'd been putting together.
How far was Jeff? Had he reached Kingston yet? I hadn't thought to ask when his train would be arriving in Quebec. I'd have to remember to check later with Marie after supper. She'd also have to give me his address so that I could write him.
***
I had supper twice a week with Marie for the few weeks that Jeff was in training. Even though I'd initially dreaded seeing her, for fear of thinking so much about Jeff, I found it a relief to visit her comfortable townhouse. And she seemed to enjoy having me over, too.
Things had changed at home with mother. Ever since Jeff put his foot down, she'd completely changed her mind about this business in Europe. She spoke constantly of the evils of the Kaiser and of Germany's ill-fated imperialism.
She'd even taken out an old photo of my father, using a smaller frame and folding the image to hide a dark splotch in the upper corner. It was one he'd had taken over in Africa on his Boer campaign. She hung it beside the front door so that every time I came in, I had to see him in his uniform with his tall cap, holding his rifle as he stared forward without a smile on his sharp face. Mother said I had his features, but I didn't see it; his face had been pointed, aquiline almost. And his dark hair had gone high up his forehead.
I'd taken to coming in through the back to keep from looking at it. My memories of him consisted mostly of his drunken rants, and of his terrible screams that shocked me from my sleep in the middle of the night.
Just the thought of Jeff
The fear led to anger. He couldn’t leave now! Not when we’d just discovered being together in this way.
“How could you…?” I said, beating my fists against his chest while I struggled to disentangle myself from him.
“What? How could I what, Ellie?” Jeff said, grabbing my wrists. He was so strong. But was he strong enough to come back?
Finding my underwear, I hastily pulled them back on and tried to straighten myself out. It wouldn’t do to show up at home looking this way. Mother would suspect something.
“How could you show me how wonderful it is to be together, then leave me stranded?” I said, hurrying towards the door.
He couldn’t catch me before I made it out to the porch. The cold night air felt especially chilly against my sweat-slicked skin. Before I could make it down the stairs, Jeff grabbed me, spun me around, and hugged me close. I noticed how his shirttails hung out of his pants. I could smell his sweat, and heat seemed to radiate from his body. Despite my anger, it felt nice.
“I’m sorry, Ellie. But I’ll be back. Trust me.”
“You can’t know that.”
“But I do. I know it deep inside, in the same place I know that I love you.”
“You’d better be right,” I said, burying my face in his chest and hugging him tightly. He hugged back, and planted a kiss on my forehead.
“I am,” he said, “I love you.”
When I didn’t respond, he let go of me, looked at me for a few moments, and then went back inside.
So, with the warmth of Jeff's kiss on my brow lingering, I went down the steps and went back to my home on Weber street.
Chapter 6
The next day at work I pricked my finger on the sewing machine. I couldn't concentrate at all.
A thousand questions and concerns raced through my mind as I sat there, running the machine with one foot, feeding the cotton uniform pieces through. The entire floor of the Bauer building was filled with women working in long rows.
Some of them chatted to each other, their voices a low drone over the hum of the sewing machines. Fresh cotton left the room smelling almost nice. It nearly covered the sharp scent of sweat.
"Ouch!" I said, biting back a "Damn it!" Some of the older women would give me the eye if I swore, and I'd hear of nothing but that at church, or during lunch, about how uncouth I'd been.
I put my finger in my mouth, the blood metallic against my tongue. Luckily, I hadn't gotten any on the shirt I'd been putting together.
How far was Jeff? Had he reached Kingston yet? I hadn't thought to ask when his train would be arriving in Quebec. I'd have to remember to check later with Marie after supper. She'd also have to give me his address so that I could write him.
***
I had supper twice a week with Marie for the few weeks that Jeff was in training. Even though I'd initially dreaded seeing her, for fear of thinking so much about Jeff, I found it a relief to visit her comfortable townhouse. And she seemed to enjoy having me over, too.
Things had changed at home with mother. Ever since Jeff put his foot down, she'd completely changed her mind about this business in Europe. She spoke constantly of the evils of the Kaiser and of Germany's ill-fated imperialism.
She'd even taken out an old photo of my father, using a smaller frame and folding the image to hide a dark splotch in the upper corner. It was one he'd had taken over in Africa on his Boer campaign. She hung it beside the front door so that every time I came in, I had to see him in his uniform with his tall cap, holding his rifle as he stared forward without a smile on his sharp face. Mother said I had his features, but I didn't see it; his face had been pointed, aquiline almost. And his dark hair had gone high up his forehead.
I'd taken to coming in through the back to keep from looking at it. My memories of him consisted mostly of his drunken rants, and of his terrible screams that shocked me from my sleep in the middle of the night.
Just the thought of Jeff
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