The Heart's War (2 page)

But I knew this wasn't the end of it. I could tell from the way Jeff's eyes glinted, from the way his smile seemed a little forced, from how he kept glancing down at those feathers.

It was okay, though. I knew that so long as I had any say in the matter, he wouldn't be going. He'd stay here in Berlin...
Kitchener with me.

Chapter 2

The next day was a Friday. Jeff and I were to spend the evening with his mother for supper. He'd told me he wanted to take me to see a movie at the new theatre that had opened on King Street, just up from the Kaufman factory where they made boots and shoes. He wouldn't tell me what picture we were seeing yet. It was exciting. I'd only seen one movie so far in my whole life.

Jeff met me down at the Bauer building, which was technically in Waterloo, the adjacent city. I worked there as a seamstress six days every week, putting together many of the uniform pieces that Jeff and his coworkers made at Lang.

His mother lived in the end unit of a group of brown-brick townhouses up on Victoria Street, back in Kitchener. It was about a half hour walk in the cool spring air, and I didn't mind at all.

The trees planted along King Street, and in the lawns of the houses along the street, were pregnant with buds. I thought I could see little telltale spots of bright green where the baby leaves struggled to burst out into the sun. Spring was my
favourite season. Even in the midst of that war, I loved the feeling of all that new life just straining to burst out across the face of the city.

It was impossible to be sad or upset. We walked down the sidewalk hand-in-hand. Jeff was so handsome when he smiled. He had perfect, straight teeth that seemed to sparkle in the sun. His eyes smiled and sparkled as well.
Especially when they turned to look at me.

Again, I thought of that brief kiss we'd shared at the dance. It had been short and sweet, but it haunted me. I didn't know why. Perhaps it was because it had been stolen right from under the nose of Jeff's mother, who'd done her best to keep her eye on us.

Forbidden fruit was always the sweetest, I thought with a smile.

"What are you smiling at?" Jeff asked, his own smile growing so that it made dimples in his cheeks.

"Nothing," I said, feeling the heat of a blush rise up my body. I hoped he wouldn't be able to tell in the sunlight.

Jeff's mother was a kind woman, if a little old fashioned. She loved her son very much. I knew she was quite fond of me, too. Lately, she'd be constantly dropping little hints and questions, seemingly innocuous. But they all pointed to one ultimate query that I knew she desperately wanted to ask but couldn't, due to her propriety: When are you going to marry my son?

We got to the tall Kaufman building at the corner of King and Victoria. A police officer blew his whistle, the shrill noise breaking through the din of the traffic as he waved his arms to direct the cars and carriages. I could smell the rubber from the factory. It was an acrid odor, but I didn't mind. We crossed the street so we'd be on the correct side of the road and went left down Victoria. The road sloped gently upward.

We passed by the long, tall Lang building where Jeff worked, which had a much more distinctive
odour from the tanning process. There at the main gate, I could see the women. They had dresses on. Each one clutched a handful of feathers that they handed out to any man who was clearly not too old or too young to enlist.

"Come on," I said, trying to hurry us along. I felt sick to my stomach thinking of the way Jeff had looked at those feathers.

One of the women started to approach, a feather already gripped in her outstretched fist, ready to hand it to Jeff.

"Go away!" I said to her as she came close.

She sneered at me, and her face twisted in disgust like she was about to be sick when she looked at Jeff.

"Coward!
Leaving your countrymen to fight for King and Country without you!" she called after us.

Jeff's hand gripped mine tightly, and his walk became stiff as his shoulders hunched.

"It's okay," I whispered to him, returning his squeeze.

Thankfully, we passed by quickly. Jeff seemed to do his best to ignore the scene. He'd left the feathers on my mother's table when we'd finished supper. I had taken them out to the backyard and burned them.

Our pleasant walk ruined, I tried to hurry us along. Soon, we came to his mother's townhouse. The long series of connected buildings took up the entire block, and the dark brown brick was the color of rich earth. My mouth watered as I smelled the cooking. What had his mother made for us? I wondered.

The front door let out onto a small, covered porch. Jeff's mother kept a rocking chair there. She liked to watch the people walking by on busy days. She was considerably older than my mother, and came from a semi-wealthy background. She could probably easily afford sugar and other niceties in those awful times.

Jeff led me up the stairs and opened the door. The smell of the cooking grew, and saliva squirted into my mouth. I forgot all about the women and their feathers as we went in and Jeff took my spring jacket to hang beside the door.

The area doubled as foyer and coatroom, consisting of a short hallway that let onto the living room. It sounded like his mother was in the kitchen still. They kept a separate dining room here. The house felt warm and comforting as Jeff shut the door, muffling the noise from the street as tires and hooves went over the pavement.

"Jeff?" I heard his mother call.

"Yes, mum. I'm here with Eleanor!"

"That's nice, dear. I believe there's some mail for you in the living room. Eleanor, dear, please come and help me!"

"Of course, Marie," I called back.

Going up onto my tiptoes, I stole a quick kiss from Jeff before going into the kitchen. Marie was a teetotaler, neither smoking nor drinking. A crucifix hung over the doorway to the kitchen, and another one was nailed in over the entrance to the dining room. I could see the customary bottle of sparkling water resting on the middle of the table.

Where my mother was tall and severe, Marie was short and plump. Her hair had gone entirely grey. She always kept it in a tight bun at the back of her head, which was in turn always covered by a dark scarf which she tied under her chin.

At the moment, she wore a white apron over her dark dress.

That apron never had a spot on it. In fact, the whole house was kept spotless. I always joked privately with my mother that all anyone had to do to check in on Marie was to see if the porch steps had been swept or not.

Not that anyone needed to check on her. All that cleaning seemed to give her a wiry strength and vitality, though even in these lean times she maintained her plumpness.

"Hello, dear!"
Marie said, turning from the stove to take my hands with hers. She smiled, showing me where Jeff got his good teeth.

We exchanged pleasantries for a few moments.  I was going through the motions, giving most of the attention to the smell of cooking ham. My cheeks brightened when my stomach let out a little rumble of anticipation. I hoped supper would be served shortly. That walk had really worked up my appetite.

"I cannot believe those women at Lang's," Marie said, pulling plates down from the cupboard to the right of the sink. She handed them to me. "Giving my Jeff those feathers and telling him awful things. I can't wait for this dreadful war to end. Then he'll just have to think about you..."

I smiled as she put another plate onto my arms. She did it so gently that it hardly clattered at all. I knew there would be no disagreement from her on our marriage. Jeff once joked that he wondered if she would propose for him. I had told him that I would accept the offer from her. He'd gone red in embarrassment.

I looked into the dining room. Jeff wasn't there yet.

"Jeff? Why don't you come to the table?"

Marie stopped then as well, looking past me into the dining room as though I were playing a joke on her. It was odd. Jeff liked to sit and sip at a glass of the sparkling water.

I remembered Marie telling him about his mail. Marie, holding the final plate in one hand, squawked at me as I walked into the dining and set the dishes down onto the table. They clanked together, the sound loud and sharp.

My heart started racing again as I went through another crucifix-guarded doorway into the living room.

"Jeff?" I said.

I found him sitting on the couch. A torn envelope sat on the coffee table. He had a letter gripped in both hands on his lap. His eyes kept moving feverishly over the lines, and he didn't seem to notice that I had come in.

"What is it?" I asked.

The look on his face didn't help my galloping heart. The palms of my hands felt cool and clammy as I clasped my fingers together.

Had someone died? His face had pulled tight, his eyes opened wide and unblinking. The pink tip of his tongue poked out from between his lips for a moment. One heel bounced up and down off the floor, making his whole body shake.

"Jeff? Jeff!" I said, taking another step into the room.

He looked up at me then, and I stopped. I had to suppress the urge to take a step back. We locked eyes then, neither of us blinking. I wanted so badly to ask him what was the matter, but neither of us seemed able to talk.

Marie stepped in behind me. "Jeff? What is it?"

Jeff lifted the letter and turned it so that we could see. It was too far for me to read, but the Canadian coat of arms was apparent. Right then, it felt like cold fingers had wrapped themselves around my heart. Their grip tightened steadily.

"What does it say?" Marie asked. I still couldn't find my voice.

Before he spoke, I already knew what it was. I had seen several already. A few of the men had come to tell their wives and girls at the Bauer building when they'd received theirs.

"It's an order to report to the nearest Canadian Forces Base. I've been drafted," Jeff said.

"What?" Marie yelled. She rushed over and snatched the letter from Jeff's hand and read it herself.

She slumped down onto the couch beside him.

"You can't!" I said, finally.

Jeff sighed, "It's not up to me, Ellie. I've been drafted. I've no choice in the matter. It says I have to report by Monday or I will be declared Away Without Leave."

It was my turn to snatch the letter away. I took two quick steps and reached out, grabbing it from Marie.

It was as he said. He was to report for training by Monday, where after he would join the 118th Battalion in France to protect Europe from the imperial ambitions of Germany and the Austro-Hungarian Empire.

Holding the paper in my hand cinched it. Before that, I'd held some mad hope that this had been a joke.
That the paper had been a blank piece of paper and I'd look up from it to see Jeff and Marie having a good laugh at my expense.

I ripped the letter up, letting the shreds float through the air and land on Marie's spotless floor. She huffed at that, leaning over to catch them as they fell. Even at this moment, she couldn't keep herself from cleaning.

"That's not going to help," Jeff said.

No longer caring for propriety, I sat on the coffee table right in front of Jeff. I grabbed his hands and looked into his green eyes. This close, I could see the little flecks of blue in them. They seemed to scintillate in the light. His hands felt warm and dry against mine.

"Don't worry," I said, dredging my mind for any solutions. I thought of the paper, and what it had said about the Conscription Act. "There are ways out of this. It says in the paper that there are a few things you can do to avoid the draft..."

Jeff squeezed and rubbed my hands, trying to work some warmth back into them. It seemed as though all the blood in my body had retreated back towards my heart as the shock settled inside me.

"Yes! I remember reading that, too, dear," Marie said.

She was smiling again. We'd come up with a way to keep her son out of the war.

"No," Jeff said.

"No, what?"
I asked.

"No, there's no way to avoid it. And even if I could, I wouldn't," Jeff said.

I pulled my hands away from his. He held his palms up for a moment, then held his knees in a tight grip as he leaned back away from me.

"Jeff! You cannot be serious," I said, "It sounds like you want to go!"

I knew in my heart that that was the truth. Jeff had always wanted to go, no matter how hard Marie and I fought to keep him from enlisting. Well, the Government of Canada had finally stepped in and made the choice without consulting us first. And my poor, foolish Jeff wasn't going to fight it because it was what he'd always wanted.

He squared his shoulders and shook his head as though limbering up for a fight. Those strands of hair fell across his forehead again.

"Jeffrey, dear, we've already discussed this," Marie said, "You decided that you weren't going. Listen to Eleanor. We can make sure the draft board rejects you. She's right, there are ways..."

"No! I didn't decide. You two decided for me. I want to make something of myself, I want to see the world and serve my country. I can't do that at the factory."