Lesia's Dream (10 page)

The words were Baba's. But where was she going? Puzzled, Lesia glanced up at Andrew. He was waiting, watching. She turned back to the letter.

Do not grieve for me. It is my time.

All of a sudden Lesia understood. She began to shiver uncontrollably. In spite of the warmth, she was viciously cold.”Baba?” she whispered. She shook her head from side to side. There was a terrible, vile taste in her mouth. “Not Baba.” It was all wrong. There was a mistake. She waved the letter at Andrew. “No!” Her voice rose sharply.” Baba's coming here. I'm saving for her passage. I need her here. She'll help me work the land. She'll help with the new baby. She'll
teach me to make her healing medicines. She will do the mending. Baba's coming!”

The letter slipped out of Lesia's fingers and fell to the ground. She stared at the creek, where the water was down to a trickle because of the summer heat. “Baba's coming,” she repeated thickly. “She's coming to see my creek. My garden.”

Andrew retrieved the letter. “Sit down.” He eased Lesia to the ground before sitting down beside her. “I'll read it to you.”

Lesia leaned forward and rested her head on her knees. She felt nauseated, faint. It was wrong, all wrong. “No,” she said weakly. “No, don't.”

But Andrew wouldn't listen. He started from the beginning.

Dear one, by the time you read this, I will be gone. Do not grieve for me. It is my time. I am glad you are safe and well fed in Canada. I am glad you have many animals. Your life begins as my life ends. Let it be a joyful life. A prosperous life. Hold tight to your faith and remember, when you hold the Bible close, you hold me close. Because we are one in heart, I send to you the carved wooden box my baba gave to me. It is special, like Geebo's Bible. Mama will tell you about it. I love you, dear one. Hold your head up always. You are Lesia Magus. A proud Ukrainian. The heart of my heart. We are one. Forever, Baba.

Great gulping sobs shook her entire body. Andrew
touched her hand in a gesture of comfort, but it made Lesia cry even harder. The only hand she wanted touching her now was Baba's. It could not be true. Bozhe, Bozhe! Baba was supposed to join them in Canada. She had two dollars set aside for her passage. They would all live together. What would she do now without dear Baba in her life?

Lesia wasn't sure how long she cried, but eventually her sobs lessened. Baba had died comforted by Lesia's lies. Was that good or bad? She didn't know.

Andrew spoke again. “There's another letter.”

Lesia nodded. Of all the hardships they had endured since leaving Shuparka, none compared to the hardship of losing Baba. “Would you read it?” She wiped her eyes. “Please?”

Andrew opened the second envelope and withdrew a single sheet of paper.

To the Magus family, formerly of Shuparka, Galicia, he began. I write on behalf of Nadia Chernetsky. She dictates this to me and will shortly dictate another letter to her beloved granddaughter, Lesia. Andrew cleared his throat. Dear ones, my cough worsens. I am old and it is time for my final journey. Do not mourn, for I will join our Heavenly Father and Geedo and Slavko. I will be a star to light your night sky. I have asked Master Stryk to send you a few rynskys for my land but the old man … Andrew stopped suddenly.

Lesia looked at him. Andrew was staring at the paper. His lips quivered as he fought back a grin.

… the old man sometimes has hemp for brains and I do not know if he will remember.

Lesia giggled softly through her tears. Trust Baba!

I have asked Mary to lay me out. My body will rest with Geedo and Slavko. Already I have seen the white cross. It is very beautiful. Remember me at provody. My love will remain with you always. Baba.

“That's all?”

Andrew folded the letter. “Did you expect more?”

Lesia shrugged. Sunlight splashed through the trees and caressed her arms. The birds warbled sweetly. Life did indeed go on. Her life anyway.

“I don't know. It's just … there must be more to say when a life ends.”

“No,” Andrew replied softly. “Surprisingly little.”

They exchanged glances. Lesia knew Andrew was thinking of his young wife. She knew he would understand when she said, “I loved her desperately”

His eyes were sad. “I know.” He reached for her hand, and this time Lesia allowed him to take it.

“With her I could be myself,” Lesia murmured. “I could be silly or sad or afraid. It didn't matter. She believed in me like no one else.” Who would take Baba's place? Who could? No one.

Grief, thick and heavy, settled on Lesia's heart. “I”ll
never forget her,” she told Andrew softly. “Never!” He squeezed her hand. “I'm sure you won't.” “Will you help me tell Mama and Sonia?” “Of course.” He pulled her to her feet and together they walked slowly back to the burdei.

“I remember when we were young she would bring it out on special occasions and tell us about her Geedo, who had spent years working on it.” It was evening now, and Mama spoke softly, in order not to wake Sonia. Her fingers caressed the delicately carved box before she handed it to Lesia.

The detail was exquisite. Even in the pale glow from the candlewick burning in oil, the gleaming wood was a rich nut brown. Lesia's fingers traced flowers and bees, which represented the sweetness of life, and a perfectly round sun, which represented Lada, the Ukrainian goddess of love and life. It was the most beautiful thing she had ever owned. But it would never take the place of Baba.

“Ooh!” Mama rubbed her stomach.

“Are you all right?” Lesia asked nervously.

“Just a twitch,” she said.

Mama had taken the news of Baba's death calmly, but her face had drained of colour instantly and she had remained pale all day. Now, with Sonia in bed for the night, she seemed more grief-stricken than ever.

“It's hard seeing this.” Hands trembling, Mama held up Baba's hairbrush. “And this.” She reached for Baba's treasured scissors. They'd been a gift after Baba had attended the difficult birth of a baby born to a rich woman who lived several villages away.

They were going through the larger wooden crate Andrew had pulled from his wagon before he'd left. Lesia, like Mama, was overcome with memories. There were a few cooking utensils and the heavy can Baba had used to carry water from the well. Lesia's eyes filled with tears. She could almost see Baba coming through the door complaining that it grew heavier every day. There were colourful skeins of wool and a half-finished woven belt. Baba's last project. She would finish it in her memory, Lesia vowed. And maybe make another one. There were more blankets. Another shawl. Baba's thick black skirt and the fancy sorochka she wore to church.

“They must have buried her in her summer clothes,” Lesia murmured absently. Her hands fastened around a large jar of honey. She smiled. That
wasn't Baba's. Someone in the village had included it as a gesture of hope and kindness.

“Oooooooh.” Mama clutched her stomach and bent forward.

“What is it, Mama?” Lesia demanded sharply.

“The baby.” Mama's voice was thick with pain. “I think it's time.”

“Now, Mama?” Fear swept down Lesia's back. The shock of Baba's death was bringing on the baby. It was only August 10; the baby wasn't due until sometime in September. “It's too early!”

Mama was overcome with another spasm. “Babies come when they want to, not when we think they should,” she finally gasped. “Besides, it's not that early. Three weeks. Maybe a month.”

“But… but… I…” Lesia trembled. She'd never delivered a baby before. Baba had always been the one.
Oh, Baba!
Lesia fought back tears and stared wildly around the tiny burdei. Where could she put Mama? How could she keep Sonia from waking? What if…what if it didn't go well? What if the baby wasn't healthy?

So many questions. And no answers.

“Mama, Andrew will be back tomorrow. Remember? After he takes the eggs to town, he'll be back with milk. Hold on till then!” She didn't know what Andrew could do, but his presence would be a comfort.

Mama's laugh turned into a garbled moan. “Lesia, it does me no good to hold on. This baby is coming.”

“I'll run and tie a white cloth to the fence. Someone is bound to stop.” No one on the prairie would ignore the universal cry for help.

“There's no time. We need to prepare.” Mama straightened, moved slowly to the corner, lowered herself to a blanket and started giving her instructions.

Lesia followed them quickly and carefully. She built up the outside fire, filled Baba's can with water and put it on to boil. She lined their clean wooden box with hay and a clean blanket. Mama asked for string but they had only thread. Near the thread went oil and flour and another blanket. She tucked Baba's scissors in her apron pocket. On impulse, Lesia added Baba's shawl to the pile.

“What are these things for, Mama?” Lesia asked.

But Mama couldn't answer. “OOOoooooooh,” she groaned.

“Mama?” Sonia sat up and groggily rubbed at her eyes. “Mama?”

“It's all right, litde one. Mama's baby will be coming soon. Sleep now,” Lesia urged reassuringly. “Sleep.”

“Outside,” Mama whispered. “I need to be outside so Sonia can sleep.”

“No, Mama!”Lesia was horrified at the suggestion. “We don't know what's out there. Coyotes, skunks. Besides, the ground is dirty. You can't have the baby outside.”

“I have to!”

Sonia sat up and began to cry. “Maaama!”

“Help me up, Lesia.” Mama's eyes were sharp with pain. “Now!”

Lesia did it. Mama tottered on her feet and clutched at Lesia's arm before moving to the door. “Don't worry … about … noise,” she whispered. “Always … noise.” She drew a ragged breath. “Ohhhh.” Mama doubled over and stuffed her fist into her mouth to smother another cry. She squeezed Lesia's arm so hard it made her wince.

“Mama!” Sonia jumped up. “Mama sick?” she asked uncertainly, coming to stand behind them.

“Hush, little one.” Lesia attempted a reassuring smile. “Mama will be fine. Go back to bed now.”

Lesia knew the pain had lessened when Mama eased her grip on her arm. She straightened and whispered again. “Tend Sonia. Wait until she's asleep. Then come down to the garden. Bring everything.” She let go of Lesia's arm and slowly waddled through the door, one hand bent backwards, rubbing at the base of her spine.

“Mama!” Sonia would have hurled herself out the door if Lesia hadn't stopped her.

“Everything is fine, darling.” Firmly she guided her sister back to bed, eased her down and tucked the blanket around her. “Soon you will have a new sister or brother.” Lesia stretched out beside Sonia and pulled her close. Only then did she shut her eyes for a quick, silent prayer.
God willing.

The words caught the child's attention. “The boy kind.” Her breath was soft and sweet on Lesia's chin.

She smiled. “That's a brother.”

“A brother.” Sonia yawned. “Night, Lessie.”

“Sleep well.” She planted a kiss on her sister's downy head.

Lesia wanted Sonia to go to sleep right away—and she wanted her to stay awake all night. She wanted to help Mama, and yet she didn't. What was it that Baba used to say? That birth and death are two sides of the same coin. The memory of Baba stabbed at Lesia's heart, and she could feel tears gathering behind her eyes. Furiously she blinked them away. Baba wouldn't want her to cry. Not now.

Soon Sonia's breathing slipped into a regular rhythm. Slowly Lesia eased her arm away and peered at her sister. She was sleeping peacefully Hopefully she would stay that way until morning.

Grabbing the makeshift cradle and supplies, Lesia stepped outside. The night was clear, the sky was full of stars. The fire crackled and burned, sending sparks into
the darkness. The water in Baba's carrying can hissed and bubbled. Could she carry it and the cradle too?

No. She would have to make two trips.

She moved swiftly towards the garden, quickly adjusting to the sounds of night. The low hoot of an owl. The snap of her feet on a twig as she followed the familiar path.

Then she heard another sound—a low moan that quickly turned into a wail.

“I'm coming, Mama!” She clutched her supplies and began to run.

The wail crested and dropped. Another low moan took its place. Lesia followed the sound and found Mama at the end of the garden, near the corn.

“I'm here now.” Lesia dropped to her knees and cradled Mama's face between her hands.

“Lesia.” Mama's eyes were shut but she smiled weakly. “So glad … the baby … is coming.”

Bozhe, not already! “Mama, I have to get the water. We need hot water, remember?”

Mama's eyes opened. She attempted a nod. “Go now.”

Lesia ran back to the fire, yanked off her apron, wrapped it around and around the handle of the old tin can and hurried back.

“Baba was right,” she panted, placing it on the ground nearby “This old can just gets heavier and heavier.”

But Mama didn't hear. Her eyes were shut; she was moaning, low and deep. Her hair was slick with sweat and plastered to her head. Her face glowed a sickly white in the darkness.

“I… must… push.” Mama struggled to sit up.

There was a lump the size of a plum in Lesia's throat. Bozhe! According to Baba, the pushing could go very fast or very slow. Either way, beloved Baba had always been so solemn when she talked about the pushing part. It was, she had said, the most dangerous part of all.

Lesia swallowed but the lump in her throat wouldn't go away. “Now, Mama?”

“Up.” Mama leaned on her elbow. “Stand up … to …push.”

In spite of her massive stomach, Mama was still thin. Lesia, on the other hand, was stronger and more muscular than she'd ever been. It was no trouble to cradle Mama as she squatted in the garden.