Farmerettes (30 page)

The boys had kept them busy dancing. Of course she said yes to any fellow who asked. She wanted so badly to be like the other girls. And she tried. But the eager smiles of the boys who held her, their sweaty palms, their breath in her ear, left her feeling uncomfortable.

Now, as she wearily entered the dorm, the first sight she saw was Isabel, sitting on the edge of her bed, her face streaked with tears. Then she noticed Helene, sobbing, hiccuping, and wiping her nose, and Peggy trying to comfort her.

“What happened?”

The farmerettes gasped in horror as they heard the awful story. Everyone knew how important that tractor was.

“I've hurt Jean and her family,” Helene sobbed. “How will I ever repay them?”

There was much sympathetic clucking. Even Stella hugged Helene.

“I have to get that tractor fixed,” was the last thing Helene said as they all crawled into their beds and lay in the dark.

Farewells and Futures

Monday, August 30, 1943

Helene

Helene woke up with a pounding headache and a queasy stomach. She got up quietly and tiptoed down the outside stairs. Maybe the tractor disaster had just been a nightmare. She crossed the yard and saw it still half-submerged in the pond. Oh God, it was true. Helene threw up.

She took a shower, wishing she could wash away last night. While she dried and dressed, she heard the rumble of a large machine entering the yard. Its engine groaned and men cursed as they struggled to pull the tractor to land. How badly was it damaged? She dreaded the answer.

“Coming to breakfast?” Peggy asked carefully.

“I can't eat.” Helene gathered her towel and toiletries and headed upstairs.

“I'll bring you something for later.” Peggy followed the other girls to the dining room. A minute later, she returned to say they were wanted in the office.

Helene dreaded this, but she was relieved Smokey hadn't interviewed them last night when she would have been able to smell their breath. She followed Peggy downstairs, where Isabel, then Binxie, joined them.

“You don't need to do this,” Helene told Binxie. “You were asleep.”

“We're together,” Binxie answered and led the way to the office.

Through the window Helene saw the muddy tractor, several large dents in the front, slime oozing from its fenders.

“We're all to blame,” Peggy told Smokey as they stood repentant in her office.

“Yes,” Smokey agreed, regarding them sternly. “Helene may have driven the tractor into the pond, but you two were out there with her. You could have stopped her. Perhaps you planned to drive it next.”

No one answered that. Nor did they mention the vodka. On the way over, Isabel had persuaded Helene it would only make matters worse. When Peggy had asked what happened to the rest of the bottle, Binxie eyed her steadily and asked, “What bottle?”

Now Smokey stood before them, her face crinkled with anger and disappointment, the mints unable to mask the tobacco odor. “Why would you, of all people, do such a stupid thing, Helene? This seems completely out of character.”

Helene shrugged miserably. Isabel fidgeted and Peggy stood silent, guilt written all over her face. She'd hurt her friends too.

Binxie looked Smokey in the eyes, and spoke in her most contrite tone. “We were celebrating, Miss Stoakley. Helene got good news and the girls were trying to cheer me up.”

“It seemed like harmless fun last night. We were feeling sad and silly that summer is almost over,” added Peggy.

Smokey stared at each of them, then at the wall, as if it would display a wise decision. “Well, I should send you home…but I won't. The farmers are desperate to harvest as much as possible before everyone leaves.” She shook her head. “And you girls are my best workers.”

Helene's tight shoulders dropped with relief. “Thank you,” she said. At least she could keep working.

“But you need to discuss this with the McDonnells first. See if they want you to stay, find out how much damage you've done.”

Helene shook inside.

After more apologies and copious thank yous, the girls left the office. Helene felt no joy. She still had to face Jean and her parents.

They paused in front of the kitchen door to the farmhouse. Finally Helene knocked and they were let in. The kitchen was warm and savory with the aroma of fresh bread and coffee, but their reception was chilly. Mr. McDonnell looked pale, Jean angry, and her mother discouraged. Nanny glowered at them from her chair. Even the dogs ignored them. Helene felt like a monster.

The tractor's front wheel shaft was bent, something broken. The engine, the fuel tank, the cylinders would have to be completely drained and dried before they could be refilled and used. Gus could do most of that, but it would take too long to find and replace the broken parts, and the wheel shaft repair would cost more than they had. If they couldn't harvest the fall hay crop in time, it would rot in the fields, leaving them without enough grain to get their livestock through the winter.

Helene had never felt so terrible in her life. “I'll pay for those repairs if it takes me ten years,” she vowed.

“We need the tractor a lot sooner than that,” snapped Jean.

“We'll all help pay,” said Peggy, ignoring Helene's startled look. “And we'll work after dinner every night this week, without pay.”

With a sigh, Mrs. McDonnell nodded. “The other farmers have arrived. You'd best get out to your wagons.”

As the girls left, Helene shivered with relief. They could stay. She turned to Peggy. “I can't let you pay for this. I drove that tractor.”

“But we—”

Helene cut her off. “It's my fault, my debt. I have to settle it.”

Binxie

Binxie smacked her ladder against the tree. The jolt vibrated through her arms to her body and set her headache throbbing again. In a way she welcomed it. It was the first time since the terrible news she'd felt anything.

She climbed the ladder and started picking. The act had become automatic. Even the insect bites and scratches were routine. She smashed a mosquito on her arm harder than she needed to, and realized she was feeling something else. Anger.

Life wasn't what she'd expected. Until two weeks ago, she thought she was in control. Any problem could be solved with determination, charm, hard work, and the right connections. Now she knew that death didn't give a hoot about those things. War leveled everyone.

She was angry at this war that destroyed so many lives. And she couldn't help it—right now she felt angry with Kathryn. Why did she have to fly for the ATA when she could have been useful here in Canada? Why did she have to be the noble and headstrong hero? She could have lived a long, safe, and productive life here, instead of causing this unbearable heartache.

Binxie glared across the row at Helene, red-eyed and somber, picking fruit at a frantic rate. She was angry with her and her stupid stunt too. And at Peggy working quietly—no songs or jokes from her today. Why wasn't she responsible last night? Isabel had barely raised her head as she served breakfast this morning. Yet she had cheerfully drunk that vodka last night. Binxie sighed. They all had.

Binxie was even more furious with herself. Could she have tried harder to keep Kathryn in Canada? Why didn't she stop the girls last night, instead of rolling over in bed, wallowing in sorrow. Those stupid boys and their bottle. Everyone was at fault; but Helene, who had never hurt anyone, was paying the price.

Was it always the good ones who paid?

Helene

As the other girls headed for the wagon back to Highberry Farm, Helene approached Mr. Belding. “Please, could I stay over dinner and keep working until dark?”

The old farmer gazed at her kindly. “Go home, Helene. You need to break for supper too. I could use you for the rest of September if you'd like to earn the money then.”

The news must have already spread across the county. When would it reach Dan? How disappointed he would be in her? Mr. Belding's offer was kind, but she couldn't stay. She had to find work to repay the McDonnells. Factories paid the most. She would leave this place in disgrace, forever remembered as the girl who destroyed the tractor. There would be no more school, no more learning—just a lifetime of drudgery—without Dan.

She was surprised to see him at the door after dinner. “Let's take a walk,” he said somberly.

“I can't. I promised to pick more peaches for the McDonnells.”

“I'll walk you to the orchard.”

Birds sang and wildflowers bloomed with extra beauty, as if to defy the misery Helene felt. Dan touched her arm. “What happened?”

Helene told him, finishing with her head bowed in shame. “I've never done anything so stupid in my life.” She braced herself for his disapproval.

“Then maybe it's time you did.”

“What?” Helene looked up at him.

He grinned. “Helene, this is bad, that tractor is crucial, especially at this time of year, but it's not the worst thing that ever happened. We'll all share our tractors with the McDonnells. Their crops won't go unharvested.” He paused to look at her. “You've been worried and overworked for so long something had to burst. So for once in your life you cut up a bit.”

“And see what happened when I did,” she said bitterly.

“Every farm kid sneaks a ride on a tractor. I did when I was eight. You had the bad luck to end up in the pond.”

“There's more to it,” she said so softly she wasn't sure he heard. “I think I was drunk.”

Dan looked at her in shock. “You?”

“It seemed like a bright idea at the time.”

“What did you have?”

“Vodka. It didn't even taste good. We took about six turns drinking it. I don't know what happened to the rest of the bottle.”

Dan laughed out loud—a jolly belly laugh.

“Six sips? That's not enough to get drunk—just silly.”

“More like stupid.”

“Okay, stupid—but not the end of the world. What will you do now?”

“Pay for the repairs, of course. The girls offered to help, but I don't take charity.” She told him her plan to work in a factory.

“School means so much to you. There's no other way?”

She shook her head. “Mama has put the house up for sale. She can't keep up with both the mortgage and the repairs. I'd be selfish to add to her worries, not to help out.”

His eyes darkened and his lips set into a scowl.

“I'm sorry,” she said and turned to leave.

“No.” Gently he reached for her arm. “I'm annoyed with myself, not you. That I don't have enough money to help you.”

“This was my wrongdoing. It's my debt. You're saving for a farm of your own, for university.”

“I want you to be able to finish school,” said Dan.

“Maybe in a few years. Right now I can't
.
”

“And I don't want you to leave.”

He looked so forlorn she tried to soften her answer. “We can write. You could visit if you're ever in the city. Maybe I'll be back next summer.” But she knew she wouldn't. Even if by some miracle she could, by then Dan would have forgotten her.

X

She stood in the doorway, watching Helene walk with Dan, defeat and guilt in every slow step. She had carried that feeling herself for four years. About herself, she felt hopeless, but an idea for Helene formed in her mind.

Peggy and Binxie waved at her on their way to their extra farmwork. Isabel had to finish her kitchen chores before she could join them.

“Wait,” she stopped them. “I know Helene insists on paying for the repairs.”

Peggy nodded glumly. “She doesn't have a penny to spare.”

“Then let's all pitch in and help.”

Peggy frowned. “She won't let us.”

“She wasn't alone out there last night.”

Peggy winced. “We should have stopped her.”

“Then remind Helene of that. Don't let her shoulder all the blame.” She looked at both girls. “Come upstairs with me.” She led them to her cot, reached under it, and pulled out a wooden box painted with flowers and birds in vivid colors.

“You did that? It's beautiful!” Peggy exclaimed.

She felt embarrassed and pleased at the same time. She pulled a two-dollar bill from her knapsack, and dropped it into the box. “This will be our treasury. Helene has been so kind to everyone. They'll pitch in.”

“It's a wonderful idea, but I doubt she'll take it,” said Peggy.

“She will,” said Binxie. She hurried to her cot and returned with a five-dollar bill, which she dropped into the box. “Let's spread the word.”

Peggy rifled through her things and pulled out a lone quarter. “I spent too much yesterday,” she apologized. “I'll have more Friday. Thanks for thinking of this.”

She smiled, happy to help Helene. Then she worried. How much did it actually cost to repair a tractor, and could they raise enough in the one week left?

Tuesday, August 31, 1943

Binxie

Binxie watched Helene pull her pictures off her wall and slide them into a notebook. Then she reached for her suitcase under the bed.

Binxie was surprised. “You're not leaving yet?”

“No. I'll finish my commitment.” Helene looked pale and determined. “But I need to be ready to go right away, get a job.”

Binxie felt badly for Helene—and annoyed. Why was she such a martyr? “For Pete's sake, stop being so noble. We all drank some vodka. Peggy and Isabel would have been on that tractor with you if they hadn't fallen off. We were together then, and we should be together now. Everyone wants to help.”

“They can't…”

“Stop,” said Binxie. “Come with me.” She led Helene to a cot farther down the row and slid a brightly colored box from under the bed. “You can't refuse—we've already begun.” She lifted the lid and showed Helene the bills and coins inside.

Helene gasped.

“There's more coming,” said Irene from the doorway. “You sewed my torn blouse in the washroom at Romeo's once, saved me from embarrassment. The Highberry farmerettes stick together.”

“Thank you, but I—”

“Thank you, Irene,” Binxie interrupted. She held out the box for Irene to drop in her money. Then she looked at Helene. “We're not doing this just for you. The McDonnells need their tractor, and this will make it happen.”

“Everyone's pitching in. Helene, your job is to find out how much we need.” With that, Binxie slapped the lid shut.

Meekly, Helene nodded.

Binxie put the box back and left the dorm. Watching her mother organize committees all these years hadn't been time wasted.

She headed downstairs to wash her face. Johnny would be here soon. As she brushed her hair, the mirror showed her the same brown curls and tanned face as Kathryn's, and she started to cry. In a few years she would look like Kathryn's last photo, then eventually like their mother. But Kathryn would never grow older. The pain felt too big to bear.