CONSIDER THE SUNFLOWERS
Copyright © by Elma Schemenauer
Chapter 1
Municipality of
Coyote, Saskatchewan, March 1940
Tina felt like
liverwurst in a sandwich, trapped in the stalled truck between her dad and the
man he wanted her to marry. Rich, boring Roland Fast.
From the looks of things, she might not survive to marry anyone.
Freezing to death seemed more likely. All she saw through the windshield was
blowing snow. Occasionally she glimpsed the fence beside the ditch they were
stuck in. Beyond the fence, only a wilderness of white glittering in the
afternoon light: no Saskatchewan prairie, no horizon, not even a telephone pole.
She stamped her boots, trying to warm her icy feet. She should never
have agreed to come along and sketch Roland's horses. She liked horses, but
getting stranded in a blizzard wasn't supposed to be part of the deal.
To be fair, she couldn't blame Roland and her dad. They weren't
expecting this storm. It had howled in from the northeast with hardly a whimper
of warning.
Her nostrils tingled with cold and the green-banana stench of Roland's
hair oil. She pulled the collar of her jacket higher, nudging him with her
elbow. "How about trying the ignition again?" If they got the truck
going, they'd at least have some heat.
Roland slumped over the steering wheel, his apple-cheeked profile
making him look younger than his twenty-eight years. "It's no use. This stupid
truck isn't going to start."
"Don't blame the truck, Roland," Tina's dad said.
"There's probably snow in the engine."
Roland's sigh puffed out white in the frigid air.
Tina almost felt sorry for him. According to Roland, his 1940 Ford was
the most modern half-ton on the road. No other new model had such a powerful
engine. But all that horsepower under the hood was useless without a spark to
get it going.
Something like her and Roland. There wasn't any spark between them.
Her dad shifted on the seat, jostling her onto Roland's wide shoulder.
She edged away. "Could we brush the snow out of the engine?"
she asked, sounding more hopeful than she felt.
Roland gave her a bleak smile, his face too close to hers. "I
doubt it in these conditions."
"Okay, I just thought I'd ask." She didn't know how Roland
felt about her. Not knowing made her nervous. He was awkward with women, but
she sometimes caught him watching her with a certain softness in his eyes.
Whether he was interested or not, she should quit letting her parents
throw them together every time she came home from Vancouver. She should simply
tell her folks, "Look, I don't want you interfering in my life. I'm a
grown woman; I've got a job in the city. Anyway I'm in love with someone else."
She shuddered to think of the avalanche of questions her parents would
ask. She wasn't ready to answer them, not yet.
The wind whooped around the truck, rattling the windows.
Roland reached behind the seat, grabbed his hat, and plunked it over
his blond curls. "I think we should walk to Frank's house. It's the
closest."
Tina's heart jumped at the mention of the man she loved, but she kept
her expression blank. She didn't want her dad or Roland guessing how she felt
about Frank. They'd be shocked. Her dad would scold and rage. He wanted her to
marry a church-going Mennonite, preferably the owner of this impotent truck.
She jerked her chin toward the bottle of pills in Roland's pocket.
"What about your mare? I thought she needed that medicine."
"We'll get it to her as soon as we can, but we'll want someplace
to get warm along the way." His voice reminded her of a radio announcer
booming out news of Hitler's war.
Her dad rummaged under the seat, crowding her against Roland.
She moved away.
Her dad sat up, his head bobbing. "Roland, do you have any
blankets? I think we should stay here till the storm lets up. It's too
dangerous to walk in weather like this."
Roland shot him a narrow-eyed look. "Obrom, we've got no heat in
here. We could freeze to death, even with blankets. This storm could last for
days."
"We could freeze outside, too." Tina's dad pulled his
handkerchief out of his pocket and gave his nose a honk. "The snow's
blowing too thick. We might get lost and wander around like drunkards."
"Not if we follow the pasture fence," Roland said.
"It'll lead us right to Frank's." He raised his eyebrows at Tina.
"What do you think?"
She peered out into the arctic blankness. If they stayed here, they'd
probably freeze unless someone came along and helped them—not likely. If they
braved the blizzard, they'd either reach shelter or die trying. "We can't
be far from Frank's," she said. She remembered passing his neighbour's
granaries before the storm hit.
"It's about a quarter-mile," Roland said.
Tina sucked in a chilly breath. "We can make it." It was
better to face danger head-on than wait around to see what would happen, wasn't
it? She reached into her pocket for her fuzzy woollen cap and tugged it down
over her ears.
Her dad's brow puckered like it did when he was deep in thought. With
all her heart Tina hoped she and Roland were making the right decision.
Her father sighed, then glanced from her to Roland as if they were a
couple. "I guess you young people are right." He put on his cap and
lowered the earflaps. Tina helped him tie his scarf over his nose and mouth.
Then he opened the passenger door and she plunged out after him.
The wind hit her hard, whistling through her cap and making her ears
smart. She pulled her scarf from under her jacket. Fighting the wind, she tied
it over her cap.
Her dad motioned for her to follow Roland, who was ploughing through
the ditch toward the fence. She struggled along in his footsteps with her
father close behind. Snow spilled into her boots, shocking her with coldness.
The drifts were shallower on the pasture side of the ditch. Strands of
barbed wire appeared and disappeared between blasts of snow. God willing, that
elusive fence would lead the three of them to her boyfriend's house. Tina dared
to smile. The good Lord must have a sense of humour.
"We'll walk in the pasture, away from the ditch," Roland
bellowed above the yowling wind. He set one boot on the lower wire of the
fence, held it down, and lifted the upper one, creating a gap for Tina to climb
through. She scrambled between the wires, careful not to catch her jacket on
the barbs, then stepped aside as her dad and Roland ducked through.
"Come on," Roland called, heading along the fence.
"Single file. Stay together."
Tina followed, admiring Roland's boldness in spite of herself. She knew
why her parents wanted her to marry him. He was strong, worked hard, and came from
a family who had owned an estate in the old country. Roland's ancestors had the
same Dutch-German-Mennonite background as hers. According to her folks, that
shared heritage would make a solid foundation for marriage and children.
But Roland was as boring as turnips compared with Frank. Her Frank was
hot peppers, red cabbage, and wild mushrooms. He was adventure, music, and
laughter. Some people said he didn't have the gumption to buckle down to
farming, but they didn't know him like Tina did. He just needed a good woman to
settle him down.
Her hands ached with cold, even in the coyote-skin mittens Frank had
given her. She clenched and unclenched her fists, trying to get her circulation
going, then peered over her shoulder to see how her dad was doing. His tall
figure loomed through a whirling smoke of snow. The scarf over his nose and
mouth was white with frost from his breath clouding into the air. She motioned
for him to shift the icy patch away from his face and turned to follow Roland
again.
She didn't see him. Where was Roland? She took a few steps forward,
feeling like a ship without a rudder, and almost bumped into a lumpy
snow-covered mound. It seemed big, wider than an outhouse though not as high.
"Tina!" Roland's shout came from ahead and to her right.
"This way."
A bolt of relief shot through her as she spied Roland chugging along
beyond the obstacle. She checked to make sure her father was still behind her,
then followed Roland, grateful for the partial shelter offered by the mound of
whatever it was.
A rock pile. Of course. Frank's father had picked tons of rocks off his
land when he farmed here. This must be one of the places where he'd chosen to
dump them. She fought the wind to the far side of the rocks. Once she was clear
of them, she caught sight of the fence again and turned to wave to her dad.
He wasn't there.
Tina's heart fluttered like a bird caught in a fox's jaws. She drew a
breath to call to Roland, then saw something long and dark slumped beside the
rocks. "Roland," she shrieked, "something's wrong with
Dad." She stumbled toward her father, fell, picked herself up, and hurtled
forward.
______________________________________________________________
Robert L. Bacon
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