Chapter 4: The Decision

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Setting: Saskatoon. It’s dawn, there’s light cloud in the sky.

Date: January 4, 1941 (Saturday)

Names: Rosemary/Hugh Johnston

First line: She suddenly realised she might be alone for the rest of her life.

She suddenly realized she might be alone for the rest of her life. Moments before, she had felt muzzy and sleepy—but that was before she heard the aeroplane overhead and was woken up very suddenly by the harsh slap of reality. She remembered what day it was. Her forehead was resting against Elsie’s soft, warm side as this startling realization washed over her. The cow snorted contentedly, her breath making steam in the frigid air of the barn. It was dawn, a chilly, overcast January dawn, and it seemed most of the world was still asleep, but Rosemary was out milking the cow. A farm starts when the sun gets up, her father had always said. He was always saying something about everything, and had a Bible verse or a rule to live by for any problem, it seemed, that came before him—but there was no way Dad knew how to fix this.

So wrapped up in her own thoughts, she was startled when someone cleared their throat behind her—she hadn’t even heard them come into the barn. Rosemary turned to see Hugh, her older brother, the whole root of this problem.

‘Good morning,’ she said, with a half-smile, the best she could manage. ‘And Happy Birthday, Hughey.’

His own smile was only half there, but it was affectionate as he gazed at his younger sister. ‘Thanks. Are you almost done with Elsie? Mum said she wants your help with something secret—’ he waved his hands dramatically ‘—and I’m pretending not to know that it’s about my birthday.’

‘Well, you are turning twenty-one,’ Rosemary said softly, without looking at him. She patted Elsie on the side and stood with bucket of milk. Side by side, they did look like siblings, with the same sandy-coloured hair and washed-out blue eyes. Hugh was taller though, by about a half foot, although everyone commented how his sister was tall for a girl. ‘Are you excited?’ she asked as they walked together toward the house.

‘Excited? No, I wouldn’t say that’s the right word,’ he said, trying for lightness and comedy in his tone.

Rosemary glanced over at Hugh briefly, unsmiling, and then looked away, her mouth hardening. ‘You’d look swell in a uniform,’ she said, with only a touch of bitterness.

Hugh’s expression soured. He stopped walking and grabbed her by the arm, not hard, but abruptly enough that some milk sloshed over the edge of the bucket onto his sister’s wool skirt. ‘Dammit, Rosemary, please don’t start that today. You know how patriotic our father is. He’s been in two wars already, and he would expect me, his only son, to serve for this country and do the honourable thing. Was it so wrong to tell him I’d at least think about it? I don’t want to go either; you know I don’t.’ His gaze was intense with hers.

His sister lowered her eyes, sighed, and looked contrite. ‘You’re right, Hugh, I’m sorry. It’s so selfish of me to try and spoil your birthday. I just can’t bear the thought of you going away and being scared and maybe you’d d-die... ‘

On the last word, her voice wobbled and a tear slid down her cheek, but she turned away from him, trying to compose her expression, and took a deep breath.

‘I just get scared for you,’ she finished softly.

‘I know,’ he murmured back. ‘I don’t want to leave you. Believe me. Come on ... why don’t we just pretend to be happy for one day? Pretend we’re not scared? It’ll feel almost like before the War, if we only try hard enough.’

‘All right,’ Rosemary agreed. No more tears shone in her eyes.

Sleep had mischievously evaded Rosemary more and more cunningly on the days that led up to her brother’s twenty-first birthday. The night he was born, however, she didn’t find any rest in sleep at all. She got up, wrapped herself in her dressing gown, and stood in the dark kitchen next to the smoored fire, gazing out the window into the moon-lit, snow-filled clearing behind their little house.

‘Rosemary?’

For the second time in the same day, he startled her.

‘Oh gosh Hugh, you made me jump. My heart’s hammering.’

‘Sorry. Is everything all right? It’s nearly one in the morning?’

‘It’s just the same old problems.’ She sighed, with a somewhat cynical smile. ‘No point getting into that--again. ‘

‘You’re going to have to sleep sometime,’ he pointed out.

‘Sleep is for the dead,’ his sister intoned darkly, turning away from him and wrapping her arms tightly around herself. ‘It’s cold.’

‘Go back to bed, then,’ he said, but she ignored him.

‘It’ll be strange to be an only child,’ she said. ‘You’re going to force me to make new friends, Hugh. I don’t even know if I can do that. You’ve been my only friend as long as I can remember. We’re so isolated up here ... it’s a week to Saskatoon. But Dad says we’re luckier than some to be on a farm. ‘

‘Are you planning for me to die if I go?’ Hugh asked, and it was such a conversational tone of voice that Rosemary couldn’t help but laugh. Good—that was what he’d wanted to do, anyway.

‘No. Just planning for your absence. The Great war ... it lasted years, Hugh. Years. ‘

‘I haven’t agreed to go, yet.’

‘Is Dad actually going to let you choose for yourself, though?’

He frowned at this, but didn’t reply; he knew what she meant and had had similar thoughts.

‘You’ve got to be happy,’ he entreated her, gazing down into her face. ‘If I go or if I don’t—whatever happens —you’ve got to promise me you’ll be happy, Rosemary.’

‘I can’t,’ she said stubbornly.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration, glaring at her back. ‘Fine. I won’t quarrel with you. But if you’re feeling sad and lonesome ... it’s a cold night. You can come share my bed tonight, if it might at least give you some peace of mind.’

Then, Hugh went to bed without looking back to see if she followed, or watched him go. If his sister was going to be so stubbornly miserable there was only so much he could do to make her feel better.

It was sometime later, and he was almost asleep, when he felt Rosemary slip in under the down quilt, behind him. She put an arm around his body, cuddling close, and put her face in his long-ish, sandy hair.

For the first time in at least a week, she slept that night.

It must’ve been hours they were asleep, but it felt like seconds when Hugh woke to hear his sister crying quietly. The light in the room told him it was before dawn, and a quick, near-sighted squint at his watch told him it was about four A.M.

‘Rosie, why are you crying?’ his voice was rough with sleep as he looked at her with concern.

‘I had a dream,’ she said tremulously. ‘You died, Hughey. We were all at the funeral, and... ‘

‘Shh,’ he said soothingly, smoothing back her unruly bangs. ‘It was dream. It’s not real. ‘ He wasn’t about to tell her it wasn’t possible or it couldn’t happen or that it wasn’t going to happen. If he went to war ... it was a possibility. It always was, and he knew it. But he focused on calming her down. When her breathing slowed, a little, he gently kissed away the tears on her cheeks—and despite not being in such a lather, she was still crying. So Hugh kissed and kissed her face, her forehead, her eyelids (which made her giggle) and her ears and chin and the tip of her nose. ‘You’ll be okay, Rosemary,’ he told her confidently—because he knew she would be. Her bitterness made her strong in a strange way and he knew if he died ... she’d go on. But in the meantime, Hugh should do all he could do let his younger sister know just how special she was to him. No matter what happened.

‘You’ll be okay,’ he repeated, finding her hand under the covers, where they lay facing each other, faces inches apart on the down pillows. ‘And never forget I love you, Rosie. You’re my most favourite sister.’

‘Heh.’ Her mouth twisted into a quirky grin. ‘I’m your only sister.’

‘That changes nothing,’ he said seriously, gazing at her. ‘I love you very much.’ He laughed suddenly, and gave her a little teasing poke in the middle with his finger. ‘I remember when we were little and you said I was the best brother ever, so you asked Mum if you could marry me. We didn’t really understand the concept of marriage, then. It was cute though.’

‘Well, you said yes,’ Rosemary teased, tickling him back just a little. They stopped, laughing, and she gazed at him with big eyes. ‘Too bad marriage isn’t like that. I wouldn’t really mind being married to you.’

‘Only ‘wouldn’t really mind, ‘ being married to me,’ Hugh scoffed, chucking her under the chin. ‘I’m practically flattered, you devious munchkin.’

‘Fine,’ she admitted with a shrug. ‘Maybe I’d like it a bit more than just not minding.’ Her eyes settled on his face, and suddenly Hugh felt like she could see right inside of him, right into his brain with that intense look; but it didn’t make him feel afraid. ‘If I was married to you, I guess I’d have to kiss you,’ she said, feigning nonchalance. ‘Isn’t that something married couples have to do?’