When Tomorrow Comes Page 10

  She knew he did not have to ask why.

  “What would you prefer to do?”

  “Prefer? I’d prefer to go back home. Up north.”

  “You still feel that way?” Henry sounded surprised.

  “I do.”

  “But there’s nobody there now.”

  “All our friends are still there.”

  “Things have changed by now, Chrissy. It wouldn’t be the same.”

  “It’s still the North. That will never change.”

  Christine thought again of the constant cry of the North. There would be no emotional struggles to sort out would-be suitors. No disturbing war news. How she longed for its sense of peace. Of sameness.

  Danny’s head fell over against her shoulder. He had fallen asleep. She turned to rearrange him and pull him closer.

  “Poor little guy. He’s tuckered out.”

  “We really appreciate your looking after him. He’s grown very fond of his auntie Christine.”

  “I’ve grown fond of him too. I just wish—”

  “Yes?”

  “That we were closer. Who knows when I’ll see him again?”

  “Work in Calgary. Then you can come down every now and then.”

  “Then you’ll go and get transferred to who knows where.”

  Henry chuckled. Any Mountie recognized that constant possibility.

  “Did you know Amber is putting the shop up for sale?”

  “No. When?”

  “Soon. We have no idea how long it might take to sell, but we do want it all settled before that next transfer comes— whenever it is.”

  “I guess that’s wise,” Christine agreed.

  For several minutes they rode in silence. Christine found her thoughts going back to Laray. How would he feel if Henry got transferred out? Of course it could be Laray who was transferred first. Who knew? She wished she could talk to her big brother about Laray, but she had no idea what she would say. For that matter, she had no idea how she really felt. It was all one confusing big lump in her chest.

  She said good-bye to Aunt Mary and Uncle Jon and left for home the next day. The train ride was not nearly as enjoyable with no one to share it. She noted Lacombe, thinking about the fact that, except to visit family, her mother had never returned to the town. But then, maybe there was nothing in Lacombe to draw one back—not like the North, where she had grown up.

  She had to spend a night in Edmonton before catching her ride to Athabasca. There was nothing to do and nowhere to go, so time dragged. She was glad when it was a reasonable hour to go to bed. But even then she could not sleep.

  Henry had asked what she would do if she had the choice, and she had answered honestly. She would go north again. Without a moment’s hesitation she would go back to the area of her birth. She belonged there. Had never fit well in the city or even the small town. Yet it was unreasonable to think that she could go alone. What could she do to earn her way? There certainly was no need for secretaries or stenos in the North, at least not that she was aware of.

  She thought again about Laray. He had said he’d like to try the North. He had also said that all she had to do was write a note. Just a note.

  But Christine pushed the idea from her thoughts. That would not be fair. It would not be right. To take advantage of his interest in her just because he could fulfill her dream. She would never be able to live with herself were she to do such a thing.

  But she would pray. God knew the desire of her heart. Perhaps God could work out a way to get her back to the part of the country that she loved.

  It was into the morning hours before Christine finally managed to quiet her thoughts enough to sleep.

  She had to be up early. Mr. Carson, the same truck driver whom she had ridden with before, would transport her back home. He hauled goods back and forth between Edmonton and Athabasca.

  Big and burly and unshaven, Mr. Carson was friendly enough. “How was yer trip?” His voice was deep and gruff. Christine might have been a bit afraid of him had she not known that her father trusted him.

  “It was fine,” she answered.

  “Thought you might stay out.”

  “No. No, I intended to come home when I left.”

  “Yeah—but lotsa folks change their minds once they git out to civilization.”

  “I didn’t see anything too civilized,” she responded. “There was lots of war talk.”

  “Yeah. We’re gitting it too. Wisht someone would jest sit on thet there Hitler. Whittle him down to size.”

  Christine wished it too.

  “Another one of the hometown boys has left. S’pect there won’t be any left around by the time this here thing is over and done with.”

  “Who?” asked Christine.

  “Clem Carlson.”

  “Clem? I thought his name was Eric.”

  “Clem’s the younger one.”

  “Clem? I didn’t think they were taking them that young.”

  “He’s a big kid fer his age. I think he lied some.”

  Someone should have stopped him. Told the truth about his age. I’m sure he’s barely seventeen. Much too young to be shipped off to war.

  “Guess there’s lot of ’em doin’ it. Lyin’ about their age so they can go.”

  Christine was shocked. It was bad enough that those of age were going.

  So even at home she was not to escape the war. Perhaps there was no place on earth where one was not touched by it.

  But Henry is not going. Henry is needed at home. That fact brought her some consolation.

  “’Spectin’ another storm later tonight, so’s I aim to push it some,” the driver told her. And push it he did. Christine was glad she had been warned.

  At one point she was sure they were going in the ditch. They were coming down an incline much too fast when the truck hit a patch of ice. Whirling, spinning, swaying from one side to the other, the big man fought the wheel, this way, then that, then back again. Snow flew, making it difficult to see. Tires squealed and the load shifted.

  When the truck finally stopped with its nose still pointed in the right direction, Christine slowly let out her breath. The big man seemed totally unruffled. “ ’Bout used up all the road on thet one,” was his only comment.

  Christine opened her eyes and gradually unclenched her fists. She looked down at her knuckles and watched as the color slowly seeped back into them. It was taking even longer to get the air back in her lungs.

  They pulled into town just as the sun was setting, and true to the man’s prediction, a wind had come up and it was beginning to snow. “Gonna be real nasty in no time,” the driver said. “Made it jest in time.”

  Christine nodded, thankful to be home in one piece. Thankful they weren’t back in the ditch, helplessly and hopelessly stuck in the storm.

  As soon as the truck pulled up in front of the house, she saw her mother brush back the kitchen curtain and look out into the semidarkness. By the time Christine had retrieved her suitcase, the door was open and her mother was waiting for her.

  “How were the roads?” were her first words before Christine was halfway up the path.

  “They were quite passable.”

  “Oh, I’m so thankful you are here. They are forecasting another bad storm.”

  Christine gave her mother a one-armed hug to avoid putting her suitcase down in the snow. “So I was told,” she said wryly.

  “Well—you’re here now, so no need to worry. Your father will be home any minute. He’ll be relieved too.”

  As Christine moved through the door she was greeted by Teeko. His long tail whipped back and forth, nearly knocking the plant from the small hall table.

  “Settle down, Teeko,” she scolded gently as she set her suitcase down and took the dog’s face in her hands. “Were you lonesome? Did you miss everyone when we were gone?”

  “You should have seen him when he saw your father,” laughed Elizabeth. “He very nearly turned himself inside out, he was so excited.”


  “He doesn’t look like he has suffered any.” Christine rubbed a hand along the dog’s back.

  “I’m sure the boys from the office took good care of him. But he does miss your father when he is gone.”

  Christine moved on to her bedroom, suitcase in hand.

  “So how did you and young Danny manage?” Elizabeth called after her.

  “Good. He’s a sweetheart.”

  “And all went well for Henry and Amber?”

  Christine was at her door. “I didn’t hear any complaints,” she called back over her shoulder.

  She took her time unpacking and putting away her things. In the kitchen she could hear her mother stirring about, putting the finishing touches on the evening meal. Teeko came to her door once and whined for some attention. When she did not respond he left again, probably to sit by the door and wait for Wynn.

  Christine knew the moment her father was walking up the path. Even from her bedroom, she heard Teeko’s excited yip and the thrumming of the massive tail. Wynn would soon be in.

  “Heard from Christine?” were his first words.

  “She’s here.”

  “Already. I thought they’d be another hour at least. It’s getting pretty bad out there. The wind has shifted and is blowing strong. It’ll be a nightmare out in the open.”

  “Well, thank God, she’s already here. Safe and sound.”

  Christine heard water being poured. Her father was washing for supper.

  Just as she turned to leave her room and go join her parents, she heard it. The wind was reaching a fever pitch, already moaning and crying as it swept around the house and pulled at the troughs under the eaves. Something flapped, then quieted. Then flapped again. She hoped it was of little consequence, whatever it was, and would not be ripped away in the storm.

  She entered the kitchen just in time to hear her mother say, “This is the first bad weather we’ve had since before Christmas. That must be some kind of record.”

  Wynn straightened, wiping his hands on the thick cotton towel. “Has been an unusually good winter so far. Not often we get so many storm-free days in a row.”

  He turned to look at Christine. “Hi, Peanut. Glad you’re home.” He smiled and hung up the towel. “How did your time with the new nephew go?” He crossed the room to give her a hug.

  CHAPTER

  Ten

  It was time for Christine to get serious about looking for work once again. Her mother was reluctant about it at first, but she finally accepted the fact. Christine decided to try Edmonton. This time she would be totally on her own. She was beginning to look forward to the challenge, but at the same time she felt just a bit nervous. What if she couldn’t find a job? What if there were no proper rooms to rent? She calculated that she had enough funds to pay for a week in a hotel before she would need less-expensive housing. Would a week be enough to get settled?

  Wynn arranged for her ride into Edmonton with their friend the truck driver. Christine wondered if her father would do so with such confidence if he had ridden with them on the last trip home. Well, there was really little choice. If one wished to get to the city, Big Sam Carson and his cartage truck was about the only possible way.

  Christine packed up her clothes and the few belongings she wished to have with her and tidied her small room for the last time.

  Teeko seemed to sense something unusual was taking place. He paced the hallway, his eyes alert, his normally waving tail still and carried low. Occasionally a whine, more like a moan, escaped his throat. He looked as if he was already grieving the loss of a family member.

  Wynn arrived home shortly before ten o’clock, the scheduled time for Christine to be picked up. He eyed the stacked boxes and suitcase set out by the door and asked, “You’re sure you have enough money?”

  Christine nodded. She wasn’t really sure, but she did want to manage on her own now.

  “If you need anything—”

  “I know. Call home.” Christine smiled.

  Wynn nodded.

  They had prayer together, seated in a circle, fingers interlaced. Christine knew this would not be the last prayer her parents would utter on her behalf. It was a comforting thought.

  Wynn had just pronounced “Amen” when they heard the roar of the truck.

  “The roads should be fine,” her father told her, probably as much for Elizabeth’s sake as her own. “Sam said they have cleared them out since the last storm. The weather’s supposed to be good for the next few days at least.”

  Elizabeth began her recital of “don’t forgets” and “be sure to’s,” as Christine listened and nodded. She had heard them all before, but she loved her mother for her concern.

  “Phone as soon as you have news” was Elizabeth’s concluding instruction.

  The men loaded the things in quick order, and then there was the final round of hugs and promises. Christine climbed up into the truck with the help of her father’s hand, waved one last time, and they were off.

  Her last glimpse of her home was of her uniformed father standing with one arm about the waist of her mother, the other lifted in a final wave. Elizabeth did not lift a hand. Hers were both busy wiping her eyes with a white hankie. Teeko stood beside them, tail drooping, head held high as though he was straining forward. Christine could imagine the mournful whine coming from his throat. It was all she could do to keep her composure. Had not Big Sam spoken she might have succumbed to tears.

  “Better roads this time and no storm in the works. All the same, I hope to make good time.”

  Christine braced herself for another unnerving ride.

  The first thing Christine did in Edmonton was get a hotel room. The King Edward would have depleted her limited resources in only a few nights, so she found a small hotel in the downtown area. It seemed central to the businesses and would make most places within walking distance. Once she settled in her room, she went to the lobby, purchased a paper, and spread it out before her on the table where she was having a bit of supper.

  There wasn’t much in the help-wanted ads that looked promising. She circled two and told herself she would make contact first thing the next morning.

  In the meantime, she decided to make inquiries from anyone who might be available. The first prospect was the waiter. As he set her soup before her, she mustered up her courage and asked timidly, “I’m looking for work. Do you happen to know of anything—?”

  “They did have a sign up for the afternoon shift—for a dishwasher.” He didn’t even look at her as he answered. Just set her soup down—a bit sloppily—and turned to go. Christine studied the soup stain on the tablecloth and shook her head. Dishwashing was not really what she had in mind, but it might well be what she would need to do.

  She ate her soup—what was still left in the bowl—along with a slice or two of less-than-fresh bread, drank her tea, and counted out the cash for the meal. She had to be careful until she was sure of employment.

  At the lobby desk she stopped long enough to inquire of the bald gentleman with the round-rimmed spectacles, “Would you happen to have heard of any position openings? I’m looking for work.”

  He did not grace her with an answer. Just shook his head and went back to the newspaper he was reading.

  She shrugged her shoulders and went on up to her room. If she was to find work, she was on her own. There didn’t appear to be much help coming from elsewhere.

  Christine was not sure if it was the evening soup or her own butterflies that made her stomach feel queasy, but she had a hard time getting to sleep. She was half tempted to dress and go down to the lobby and make a call home. Just hearing the voices of her mother and father would have a calming effect. But the thought of the long-distance charges kept her in bed.

  For some strange reason she thought of Laray. Just drop a note. It seemed such an easy thing to do. He would even be willing to go north, he’d said. And he was a nice young man. And, more importantly, he shared her faith. So why was she hesitant?

 
; She knew the answer. She was only interested in him because of what he might be able to give her. She would be using him. That wasn’t the right premise for beginning a relationship that one hoped would lead to a solid marriage. She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t. If she were to marry a man just to get her own way, she would always have feelings of guilt. What kind of relationship could be built on that? She had come so close to making one dreadful mistake. She wouldn’t allow herself to make another.

  He deserves much better than that, she lectured herself. She could never do that to him.

  Then her thoughts turned to Henry, the big brother she had always loved and admired. Henry had been patient and allowed God to lead. And look now. Henry was so happy with his Amber and with his new son, Danny. Sure, there would undoubtedly be trials ahead, but they were committed to working them out together. That was what marriage was meant to be. An equal partnership. An attitude of love and respect, of coming together to give, not to get.

  Christine tossed and turned, struggling with many thoughts and doubts. At last she climbed out of bed and knelt on the faded carpet. The room was chilly, but she paid it little mind. There was only one place to go with all of her turmoil. Only One who could bring any right direction to her in her confusion. Christine began, “Father, I need your help. . . .”

  It was even colder in the room when she arose the next morning. She hadn’t slept long enough, but once she had gotten there she had slept well. For that she was thankful.

  She had her heart set on a good hot bath to help take the chill from her limbs and get her day started, but a trip to the bathroom down the hall left her disappointed.

  The tub was chipped and stained and totally uninviting. She knew she must use it, but she would not be lingering there. No long soaks like her mother had enjoyed on their recent trip together.

  Christine leaned over to turn on the tap. The water drizzled out. No matter how long she ran it, the temperature did not increase. She would be having a tepid bath, if indeed she could get the water even that warm.