The Summer House

The Summer House

By Rebecca Wilkinson & Edna Wilkinson

Inspired by Edna Wilkinson’s “Keepsakes of the Heart”, and a notebook in which Edna scribbled out the bones of this story, the title, and some of its characters. She ran out of time before she could finish it. This is for you, Mom.

When his father passed away, Jack Farley inherited cows, corn and wheat fields, not to mention vegetable gardens and apple trees in the yards surrounding the family’s tidy grey farmhouse.

 Jack and Marie Farley were active members of their community.  Jack was an elder at Sillsville Church, which they attended every Sunday. They hosted card parties at their home each month, and Marie was President of the local Women’s Institute. Grandma Farley still lived with them, along with Jack and Marie’s only daughter Francie, who worked alongside her mother in the kitchen – though Francie admittedly didn’t enjoy having to help outside with the “men’s chores”, as she called them.

Sara’s biological father Tom Thornton and his wife Georgie were lured to Canada by the promise of a fresh start after the end of the First World War. It couldn’t have been easy moving four young children across the ocean from England to an entirely new way of life, but thanks to the Overseas Settlement Program, Tom quickly found year-round work on the Farley farm. He and his family settled into the red brick house that was situated on the Farley property just across the road from Jack and Marie’s home, while three other single men hired for the summer bedded down in a small bunkhouse across the creek.

To hear Grandma Farley tell the story, Sara was born not long after the Thornton’s had settled in, and she was still just a baby when her frequent visits to the Farley home began. Francie, then ten years old, would wander up the lane to the farmhand’s house every Friday and collect little Sara up into her arms, bouncing her gently to soothe her before delivering her to the Farley home. Francie would ease the child down into the white iron crib in her bedroom, and, unquestioning, Sara would settle onto the soft, down pillow and quickly fall asleep to the reassuring sound of footsteps softly echoing in the house around her.  

As she grew, Sara’s visits with the Farley’s became more frequent. Some days she wondered why her older siblings never accompanied her to the big house across the way, but she knew better than to ask. Grandma Farley reminded her on many occasions that little girls should be seen and not heard, and Sara always accepted this sage advice with an obedient nod. Yet it remained a mystery to her why she felt more at home with the Farleys than she did with her own family.

She especially loved spending time with Grandma Farley. They whittled away many an afternoon together listening to records on the Edison gramophone in the parlour. Sara would position a disc on the turntable and then wind the hand crank before carefully placing the needle at the start of the record and turning on the switch. Grandma would smile and tap her foot along to songs by Bring Crosby or Tommy Dorsey and his Orchestra.

In time, Sara began to feel that there was no need to ever be anywhere else but on the Farley farm – the only exception being school days, when she attended the one-room schoolhouse in Sillsville. She loved the reading assignments most of all, thanks to a love of books that Jack Farley had instilled in her from a very young age. He owned a personal collection of reading material that would have put the Napanee Library to shame.

In good weather, Sara would walk to school, and Mrs. Farley always made sure she had decent shoes and clothes. Most were hand-me-downs from Francie, but Sara thought they were all better than fine. Still, it didn’t help that she was built differently than Francie was, and she winced at the sound of her classmates’ laughter when the teacher would request that she walk to the front of the small classroom to read aloud. There were often whispers of “fatty” as she walked back to her desk. She was sure that her own siblings took part in the teasing, and this hurt Sara deeply, but only until she arrived home, when she would run to see Grandma Farley in the parlour.

“Pay them no mind!” she’d tell Sara, pulling her into her arms. “You just keep reading those books and saying your prayers every night, and you’ll be alright. This is just a blink in time – just a blink! One day you’ll look back and you’ll know it was true!”

“I already know it’s true, Grandma Farley!” Sara would reply, and before she knew it, she would be feeling herself again. That was how she knew the Farley home was where she belonged; and not having ever met her real grandmothers, Sara quickly adopted Grandma Farley as her own.

When Sara was eight years old, Marie gave birth to twins Corey and Ella, and it was the talk of the town. Francie was a teenager by then, and though the age difference between the siblings was notable to some, Grandma Farley quickly stopped tongues from wagging when a small group of women visited for tea one Sunday afternoon following church.

“I can’t imagine how she’d manage without Francie’s help,” Mrs. Harrington piped up after Marie hurried out of the room to tend to the babies when they awoke, crying, upstairs.

“True,” another woman agreed, “Though Marie’s luck may soon run out. Francie is plain enough to look at, but we have more bachelors than spinsters in Sillsville, so she’ll no doubt catch the eye of one of them soon enough and be gone!”

“Francie has the strength and determination of her mother,” Grandma Farley spoke up, raising a finger in the air, “And is as book smart as her father. No Farley woman is overly concerned with catching the eye of any man!  It’s Francie who’ll decide if and who she’ll marry, and no one else!”

Mrs. Harrington sucked in a surprised breath and glanced around the parlour at the other ladies assembled there.

“And as for Marie, she’s already raised two strong girls,” Grandma Farley continued, pointing over to Sara who sat quietly in the corner. Then she turned her head and stared directly at Mrs. Harrington. “How is your son doing, Margaret? I hear his wife and children are having a terrible time ever since he ran off to Toronto with that floozy of his!”

“Well!” Mrs. Harrington huffed, leaning forward and planting her teacup firmly down into the saucer on the small table in front of her, “I do believe it’s time we should be going!”

“Couldn’t be soon enough for me!” Grandma Farley declared, waving a dismissive hand in the air, and the remainder of the ladies awkwardly gathered themselves together and followed Mrs. Harrington outside through the parlour door reserved for Sunday visits.

“Where has everyone gone?” Marie wondered, arriving back downstairs as Sara jumped up to transfer the ladies’ cups and saucers to a nearby tea tray.

“With friends like that, who needs enemies?” Grandma Farley commented, and, noticing that Marie did not look pleased, Sara tightly gripped the tray and made a hasty exit to the kitchen.

She may not have been an experienced babysitter, but Sara was always eager to learn and to help the Farleys in any way she could in return for their kindness. This must have been much appreciated all the more by Marie after Grandma Farley took a frightening fall when she was halfway down the stairs one morning. Her extra care fell mainly to Francie, while Sara was tasked with tending to the children.

Grandma’s fall left her unable to move her right arm, and a droopiness appeared on the right side of her face. The doctor gave it a strange name – apoplexy, but Sara understood it better when Mr. Farley told her it was an accident that happened in Grandma’s brain and caused her to take a fit, leading to the fall.

Though her words were slower and slurred, Grandma never lost her ability to offer kind yet firm guidance when she felt it was needed.

By now, the Great Depression had been underway for many years, yet Sara only heard inklings of it when she’d carry lunch or water out to the farmhands in the fields. Some travelled far to work for the Farleys, with jobs being scarce and not all farm operations prospering as well as Mr. Farley’s did. Drought and dust storms had besieged the Canadian prairies, and in some places, farms were being infested with grasshoppers and cutworms. Still, even Sillsville wasn’t safe from the intense heat that sometimes gripped the land during the summer, and Sara recalled Mr. Farley expressing his concern over the crops drying up on more than one occasion.

Hearing about the struggles that other families were experiencing helped Sara remain mindful as to how fortunate she was to live on the Farley farm, where it seemed like there was nothing to want.

Food was plentiful, and there was always enough to go around. Marie fed the workers their supper in the back kitchen or outside if it was a nice day. However every Sunday, and on special occasions like Dominion Day or Thanksgiving, they were invited to join the Farley’s at their family table, and Sara always enjoyed the good-natured jokes and spirited conversation that ensued.

In fact, she loved everything about the farm, and all its varied seasons. In spring, the creek behind the house began to flow, as red winged blackbird chirped shrill refrains, perched atop the bulrushes in the marsh. School holidays began in the summer, but there was still much to be done, with berries to pick, and cows to be brought in from the fields for milking. Flowers bloomed, and fruits and vegetables ripened, and people came from far afield to fish for muskie in Hay Bay. In the fall, Sara even loved the earthy smell of the fallen leaves collecting in the garden, wet with rain.

The school fair was always held in September, but Sara’s favourite part of autumn was when Jack would say, “Let’s go across the creek today. It’s time to fill the apple barrels.” Sara would tag alongside, and Jack always let her eat as many as she wanted. Snow apples were her favourite – small and bright red on the outside, they were as white as new-fallen snow on the inside. Together she and Jack would load up the two apple barrels in the cellar to get the family through the months ahead. Some days they’d gather hickory nuts, and while some of the nutmeats made their way into Marie’s cakes, the remainder served as delicious snacks on a winter’s evening.

On the odd winter day, Jack would take Sara and her siblings to school in the cutter, with the snow sometimes drifting as high as the horse’s stomachs. On those days, Sara would glance around at her older brothers and sisters and wonder what their life was like every day up the lane at the red brick house. She couldn’t imagine any other life but the one she was living, and yet, it seemed so strange to think that her brothers and sisters were just across the way, almost strangers to her.  She felt proud to be able to sit snuggled close to Jack in the cutter, to show them how comfortable she was with him. To show them that she was loved.

She’d stare up at Jack sometimes when he wasn’t looking. Sara knew that it was silly to think such things, but she couldn’t help but admire how handsome he looked. His neatly-trimmed dark hair was always shiny and slicked back. She’d had to fetch the tin of styling wax from his dresser one evening when he and Marie were getting ready to visit a neighbour’s house to play cards, and she’d watched him rub a little of the wax between his hands and smooth it through his hair. It smelled good, and so did he. Jack was tall and strong, with a soft, friendly smile and brown eyes that twinkled when he laughed. He always seemed to look swell, whether he was out in the fields, his shirt sleeves rolled up as he brought in the hay; or dressed to the nines for an evening out.

Marie had a natural beauty, with her long, chestnut-coloured hair swept elegantly back, most likely to keep it out of the way as she worked – though to Sara, it highlighted the woman’s fine, oval face and hazel eyes. She wasn’t tall, like Jack, but rather petite and slender, and Sara thought they made a fine match. Sara giggled when Jack would creep up behind Marie while she was busy at the kitchen counter and wrap his arms around her. Marie always laughed and playfully tried to push him away, but he’d usually linger for a moment to kiss her cheek before turning and winking at Sara as he left the house to do his chores.

The year the twins turned five, Francie married and moved with her new husband to his farm, located almost two hours away by motorcar. Though Sara would miss her, Francie’s departure meant that Marie needed more help than ever before, and it was decided that it was time to move Grandma Farley down to the small bedroom off the parlour, where Sara usually slept. It was becoming more difficult to help Grandma up and down the stairs, and since the parlour was her favourite room, moving her nearer to it would be for the best. In turn, Sara was excited that she would finally be able to move upstairs, where the adults slept, and even more excited when Marie told her that she could have Grandma Farley’s room if she wanted it. Grandma’s huge feather bed was so comfortable. When Sara was small, she would sometimes tiptoe up to Grandma’s room on a cold winter’s night when the old house was groaning and creaking in the wind, or during summer thunderstorms, which frightened her most of all. Grandma always seemed to know that Sara needed her, for she’d be lying there awake. She’d smile and pull down the corner of the quilt. “Come, child,” she’d say, “Get in.” Sara loved that quilt. Marie had fashioned it with patches from many old dresses, and crawling beneath it, Sara liked to imagine that generations of Farley women were keeping her safe through the night.

Not long after this shifting around in the Farley house, winter set in, and Tom Thornton announced that he had found work in Kingston and he would be moving his family there. Sara wasn’t sure how she felt when Marie told her the news.

“Do I have to go?” she asked. They were sitting in the kitchen. The twins were playing nearby on the floor, and Grandma Farley was resting in her room.

Marie hesitated. “Well, Sara,” she began, “How would you feel about staying on with us? You’re one of the family now, and your mother has agreed that you can stay, though–” she paused before adding, “Georgie says when you’re old enough to find a job, she wants you back.”

“To work and give her my wages, you mean?” Sara quickly figured it all out.

“That won’t be for some time,” Marie assured her, nodding and reaching out to squeeze Sara’s hands, “And until then, this is your home.” She paused again before finishing, “If you want it. If you want us.”

“I do!” Sara exclaimed, sliding down from her chair and throwing her arms around Marie as a lump formed in her throat, “I do, Mrs. Farley!” she beamed. She squeezed her eyes shut and hoped her tears wouldn’t show when she pulled away. Sara wasn’t sure why it felt silly to cry, but Marie didn’t seem to think anything of it. She simply smiled and pulled a hanky out of the pocket of her apron, handing it to the girl.

“Now, Mr. Farley has agreed to pay you a small weekly wage in return for your help–”

“But I don’t need–” Sara began to protest.

“I’ll not hear it!” Marie cut her off, “You’ve been indispensable around here and it’s high time you’re rewarded for it!” She took a deep breath and added quietly, “And there’ll be no need for your parents to know. As far as they’re concerned, you’re here to help us until such a time as they need you, and you’re getting room and board in return. You save those pennies every week, and when the time comes, you’ll be able to make your own decisions, you understand?”

Sara nodded and finished wiping her eyes with the hanky, then proceeded to hand it back to Marie, noting the delicate embroidered blue and yellow flowers swirled around an elegant “F” for Farley. 

“You keep that,” Marie urged softly, “All the Farley girls have one.”

Sara grinned again and proudly tucked the handkerchief into the pocket of her dress.

As late spring set in and the days grew milder, word spread that Jack Farley was hiring farm workers, and with the Thorntons gone, the red brick house across the way stood vacant again.

“Filled the rooms in no time,” Jack relayed one evening at supper, “I even hired a girl this time–”

“A girl?” Marie exclaimed, surprised.

“Never mind it, Marie,” Jake calmly reassured his wife, “She won’t be staying with the men.” He paused and picked up his fork, adding, “Her name’s Molly. I thought we could put her in Francie’s old room. She can help out around the house.”

“Well, Jack, I don’t know about this,” Marie admitted, wringing her hands together in her lap. Sara knew that Mr. Farley was suggesting a big change, bringing a stranger into the house. “Sara’s help is more than enough.”

Sara felt a sense of pride when she heard Marie say that, but she continued to focus on her meal, pretending not to hear.

“We can always use an extra pair of hands around here, whether it’s to help with the children or with Mother,” Jack countered, turning his attention to his plate and digging into his mashed potatoes. “Besides,” he paused between bites, “I didn’t have a choice. The girl is engaged to marry one of the workers, Charlie Ford. So either she stays here, or we put her over there with the men.” He glanced sideways at Marie, and Sara knew there were adult words unspoken between them. “Unless you want both her and Charlie sleeping in the same bed over there all summer.”

Marie let out a frustrated sigh and resigned herself to her husband’s decision. “I suppose we can find some chores for her, can’t we Sara?”

Sara looked up from her plate, still feigning oblivion, innocently locking eyes with Mrs. Farley and responding with an agreeable nod.

Marie glanced back at her husband, “I hope she’s not expecting anything fancy. Francie used to say there was a dip in the middle of that old mattress and she couldn’t stop herself from rolling right into it every night.” She turned back to Sara again. “That mattress was Mr. Farley’s, you know, Sara, when he was a young lad growing up on this farm, so it’s been slept in a long time–”

“I’m sure the room will be fine, Marie,” Jack interjected, “Now let’s eat.”

Molly Blair came knocking the next day, and Sara was literally nearly bowled over as she opened the door to allow the exuberant young woman to enter.

“Hello!” Molly smiled, setting down two small travel cases, “How charming to meet you! You must be Sara!” she gushed, “I’ve heard all about you!” Her short blonde hair was parted neatly in the middle and fell in soft curls just below her ears. Sara took a tentative step back and smiled politely, admiring Molly’s pink dress, with puffy sleeves and an elegant V-neck that gathered tightly at her slim, belted waist. From there, the frock dropped down past Molly’s knees and swung loosely as the woman moved. She looked like she’d just stepped through the movie screen at the Granada Theatre in Napanee.

“Welcome, Molly,” Mrs. Farley offered, entering the front room from the kitchen. Sara noted that Marie wasn’t smiling, her usual warmth replaced with a reserved standoffishness that Sara was not accustomed to. The twins immediately scurried in and pulled at their mother’s skirt for attention as she reached down, touching the tops of each of their heads to quiet them. “Sara will show you to your room,” Marie continued. “Come back down once you’re settled, and I’ll get you started on some chores.” She turned, then glanced over her shoulder, “You’ll want to wear something a little more practical,” she suggested, before proceeding to herd the children back out into the hall toward the kitchen.

Molly glanced at Sara. “I’m sure that you and I will be fast friends!” she grinned.

“Grandma Farley is sleeping in the parlour,” Sara cautioned, “We have to go past there to get upstairs, so we’ll need to be quiet.”

“Oh,” Molly replied, leaning down to pick up her bags, “Maybe I’ll take a short nap as well. I was up awfully early this morning.  I came all the way to Napanee by train from Toronto, and then Jack picked me up at the station and drove me here from town.”

“You mean, Mr. Farley?” Sara asked as she led Molly out into the hallway, though she realized it may have sounded more like a statement than a question.

“What?” Molly replied, and then with realization, giggled and added, “Oh! Mr. Farley, yes.”

Sara turned and put a finger to her lips to remind Molly to keep her voice down as they entered the hallway, pausing to peer into the parlour, where Grandma sat in her rocker, her head back, mouth wide open. Her snores carried out into the hall.

“Catching flies!” Molly whispered with a chuckle, and Sara grabbed one of the bags so that she could take the woman’s hand and quickly lead her away toward the staircase. She hoped Mrs. Farley hadn’t heard the comment in the kitchen.

“Does she sleep all day?” Molly whispered as they crept up the stairs and made their way into Francie’s room.

“No,” Sara shook her head, quietly closing the bedroom door behind them and breathing a sigh of relief that she finally had Molly out of earshot of any of the family downstairs. “We spend most afternoons together in the parlour. She just needs to rest a spell and then she’s right as rain again.”

Molly glanced around the sparsely-furnished room and then set her things down on the bed. “Whose room is this?”

“It was Francie’s – she’s Mr. and Mrs. Farley’s daughter.”

“Where’s Francie now?” Molly asked.

“Married.” Sara replied, turning back toward the door.

“They have a married daughter and two little ones as well?” Molly exclaimed, surprised.

Sara nodded. “By the time the twins came along, Francie was nearly old enough to have children of her own.”

“I am going to have lots and lots of children with my fiancé once we’re married!” Molly squealed, excited.

Sara wasn’t sure how to respond, so she merely smiled and asked, “When is the wedding?”

“Well, before the end of the summer, of course!” Molly exclaimed, and she ran to the window and looked out behind the house, “Here!” she added, then turned back to Sara, “In the back yard!”

“Well,” Sara stuttered, “I don’t know if Mr. and Mrs. Farley will–”

“It will be perfect!” Molly insisted, throwing her hands out to the sides as if she’d just thought of the best idea, “We’ll be married this summer, here, at my summer house!”

Sara began to feel that she was being pulled into something that might not be looked favourably upon by the Farley family, so she moved quickly toward the door to make her exit. “I need to go check on Grandma Farley–”

“Oh, and you’ll be my bridesmaid!” Molly clapped her hands, excited.

Sara stopped and turned back to her. “But I…I don’t know about such things–”

“Say you will, Sara! I don’t have anyone else here who can stand up for me!” Molly begged.

“Surely you’d first need to ask permission from Mr. and Mrs. Farley if you want to be married here, and besides, I’ve never been a bridesmaid!” Sara admitted.

“There’s nothing to it at all, really!” Molly assured her.

“I’d have nothing to wear,” Sara shrugged.  

“Oh, never mind about that! Charlie will take us into town to find something,” Molly waved a dismissive hand in the air, “My dress is already on order, and it will be absolutely perfect! Just look!”

She turned and hurried to the smaller of her two travel cases, opening it and reaching in to retrieve a piece of paper. She swung around and held it up for Sara to see.

It was a page torn out of the Eaton’s catalogue, and the periwinkle blue garment that Molly pointed to was as lovely a dress as Sara had ever seen. It had a pleated neckline and a lace-covered bodice that tapered down the centre of the skirt, allowing soft, sheer pleats to fall gently from the hip on either side.

“It is very lovely,” Sara nodded.

“And I’ll find a white hat in Napanee,” Molly nodded, “Oh, and we must go to the flower shop and arrange for my bouquet. I told Charlie that I want blue gladiolus and white cinerarias!”

Sara smiled, feeling surprised by this sudden turn of events, but quite flattered, as well. No one had ever asked her to do something quite as important as be a bridesmaid! It made her feel very grown up, but she wondered if the Farley’s would agree to host Molly’s wedding.

She tiptoed back downstairs and made her way into the parlour, where a stiff breeze was blowing the lace curtains wildly about. Sara ran to the window and quickly lowered it, the resulting “thud” rousing Grandma Farley from her afternoon slumber. She let forth a few absent snorts as she awoke and slowly opened her eyes. 

“I’ll get you some water,” Sara offered.

“No need,” Grandma replied sleepily, “That pump’s a good walk away, and right now I’d rather you read to me from that book you were into the other day.”

“Uncle Tom’s Cabin?” Sara asked in anticipation.

“The one Jack gave you on your birthday, yes,” Grandma Farley confirmed, nodding and beginning to rock back and forth, “I quite enjoyed that.”

Sara retrieved the book from the tea table near the window and had just settled into the comfortable wingback chair beside Grandma Farley, when Marie poked her head into the parlour.

“Is she not coming down?” Mrs. Farley asked, glancing in Sara’s direction.

Sara jumped up and shook her head, “I don’t know, Mrs. Farley. I think she might have mentioned something about a nap.”

Grandma Farley stopped rocking. “Who needs a nap at this time of day?” she snapped, and Sara exchanged an amused glance with Marie.

“The new girl Jack hired,” Marie answered, stepping into the room, “I’ve been waiting on her to help me in the kitchen.”

“I can help!” Sara offered, dropping the book on the chair.

“You’ll do no such thing!” Marie scolded, “Someone needs to stay here with Grandma.” She turned and started out of the room, “I’ll call up to her.”

Just then the sound of footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs, and Marie stopped, folded her arms in front of her, and waited until Molly stepped into the parlour.

She’d changed into a simpler frock, though with Molly’s figure, she’d look like a vision no matter what she wore, Sara thought to herself.

Noticing that all eyes were upon her, Molly smiled and did a bit of a curtsy, the skirt of her cotton dress flaring softly as she dipped. Sara took in the striking scarlet red fabric, with a large gold flower embroidered on either side of her bodice, a flattering high waistline and ruffled sleeves.

Marie self-consciously touched a hand to the front of her well-worn beige house dress, shoved her hands into her pockets, and proudly straightened up. “I have some potatoes that need peeling, Molly!” she announced, then made her way back out to the hallway toward the kitchen.

Molly offered Sara a quick wink before following Marie, her black velvet heels clicking loudly on the wooden floor as she went.

Grandma Farley said not a word until the young woman was gone.

“Well doesn’t she think she’s a proper bit of frock?” she finally spoke up, and Sara instinctively covered her mouth with her hand to suppress a giggle. Grandma blurted things out even more than usual since her brain accident, but then, she had always been a no-nonsense lady, one who didn’t suffer fools.

As summer wore on, Sara kept busy during the day at the Farley house, caring for the twins, cooking and cleaning, and tending to Grandma as needed.

Though she’d never admit it to any of the Farley’s, it was the nighttime that she dreaded more than anything. The adults would think she was silly to be afraid of the dark, so it helped to know that Molly was nearby in Francie’s room, just next to hers, while Jack and Marie slept in the big bedroom across the hall. The twins were in a small room just beside theirs.

Once she’d helped Grandma prepare for bed each evening, Sara would go “up the wooden hill” as Jack called it, climbing the stairs to her room, and crawling into the big feather bed. The bed was at the opposite side of the room to the big window that looked out over the back yard, with the Farley’s wheat fields stretching out in the distance.

Long, brown curtains were strung across the window from ceiling to floor, and once drawn, the room became too dark for Sara to see much of anything, even when she strained her eyes. Sometimes when she was awakened by a noise – a mouse skittering in the wall, or a mosquito buzzing around her head, she would open her eyes and lie frozen, staring into the blackness. It seemed that as she lay there, her heart pounding in her chest, she’d see movement in the darkness, shapes forming near the foot of her bed, or in the air above her. Afraid the shapes might turn into a solid form, Sara would close her eyes again and take deep breaths, praying that sleep would come. Sometimes the wooden floor would creak, and she’d sink down even further into her bed, pulling the Farley women’s quilt up around her head for protection.

Even more frightening than the darkness was the onset of a thunderstorm creeping in across the bay at night. The rolling crashes were tough competition for the big grandfather clock downstairs in the front room, which struck loudly at the top of every hour, resonating throughout the house. Sara imagined every strike was the footstep of a hulking soldier on the stairs, marching upward toward her bedroom to steal her away from her family in the night. 

In the morning she’d open her eyes with relief, the sun just barely slipping in along the edges of the dark curtains, and she’d hear the first joyful sounds of the day as Mr. and Mrs. Farley chatted quietly over coffee in the kitchen.

Sara thrived as part of the Farley family, and she never imagined that anything could shake her happiness as long as she was with them.

However, one day as she was winding the gramophone for Grandma Farley, she realized that there could be some trouble brewing.

 “Steer clear of that one!” Grandma Farley pointed toward the largest of the parlour windows, watching Molly pass by as she watered Marie’s flowers.

Sara cringed. The windows were open, and Grandma wasn’t known for worrying who might hear her opinions. However, watching Molly, it became clear that she was oblivious to their stares, as she disappeared around the corner of the house, then reappeared outside the window that looked out across the back yard.

She turned away, watering can in hand, when Mr. Farley approached, and the two began to engage in conversation, though it was too muffled for Sara to hear what they were saying.

Sara was old enough to know the yearnings girls could have for boys, and she’d seen Molly make sheep eyes at Mr. Farley enough to know that she was smitten with him, though she thought it was innocent enough. After all, Molly was in love with Charlie, and besides that, Mr. Farley loved Marie.  

“That son of mine knows better!” Grandma Farley exclaimed, watching the two. “If his father were here, he’d set him straight!”

 “Why has the music stopped?” Marie called out, stepping into the room, and Sara jumped a little, then glanced back to the window, but Molly and Mr. Farley had moved away and were now out of sight.

“Uh, just have to choose something else,” Sara blurted out, reaching down to take another disc from the shelf below the gramophone. She felt guilty somehow, as if she were keeping something from Mrs. Farley, who turned and hurried back toward the kitchen when one of the children cried out for her attention.

“Didn’t you say that young woman is engaged to be married?” Grandma pressed.

“To Charlie Ford,” Sara nodded, “He works for Mr. Farley.”

“Huh!” Grandma chuckled, but not in an amused way. It sounded more as if she’d figured something out. “Then she’s askin’ for trouble!”

Sara couldn’t help but think that maybe Mr. Farley was asking for trouble, as well, though she would never say that to Grandma.

“Jack is just a man, after all,” Grandma continued, beginning to rock in her chair again.

“What do you mean?” Sara asked, curious.

Grandma huffed. “Well, everyone knows he used to take a basket of eggs up to your mother some afternoons when your father was out in the fields!”

Sara furrowed her brow, preparing to slide a phonograph disc out of its paper sleeve. She stopped, curious, “Well, I wonder why Francie wouldn’t deliver the eggs?” she asked, half to herself, half to Grandma.

Then, just as quickly as she’d let the cat out of the bag, Grandma slipped back into her old self. “Have you got Don’t Bring Lulu there, young lady?”

Sara nodded, still trying to understand what she had just heard. She bent down and returned the disc she’d been holding to its proper place on the shelf as she searched for the record Grandma had requested. Once located, she placed “Don’t Bring Lulu” on the turntable, turned the hand crank, and started the song. Grandma seemed content rocking, tapping her foot and humming along to the music, so Sara ambled over to the wingback chair and sunk down into it to try to make sense of what her grandmother had said.

Some days when Sara took Corey and Ella outside to play, Molly would follow, and though Grandma had cautioned against it, Sara couldn’t resist having someone to confide in now that Francie was gone.

“Have you ever known anyone who’s afraid of the dark?” Sara asked as they walked along behind the twins, who were taking turns riding their tricycle in the driveway.

Molly smiled and replied, “There’s nothing to be afraid of, Sara. Why do you ask?”

“I don’t know,” Sara answered, “Just a feeling, I guess. I love my big room in the daylight, but at night, I imagine that all sorts of things could be hiding behind those big, dark curtains. I would never tell Mr. and Mrs. Farley because I know they’d think I’m being silly.”

“Well,” Molly replied kindly, “I can look in on you before I go to bed at night, Sara. Would that make you feel better?”

“Oh, yes Molly!” Sara responded gratefully.

So, true to her word, Molly stopped by Sara’s room that night and stayed with her a while, chatting quietly by the light of the small brass bedside table lamp until the younger girl felt calm and ready for sleep.

“I’ll be right back,” Molly whispered, jumping up out of the bed and quickly returning from her room.

“Here,” she offered, handing Sara a beautiful crystal perfume bottle.

Sara sat up in bed. “It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed, trying to keep her voice down.

The bottle was shaped into a perfect lotus flower with alternating pink and white petals that bloomed all the way to the top, where the crystal stopper was fashioned into the shape of a glittering diamond.

Sara removed the stopper and the sweet scent of roses, violets and lavender filled her nose. 

“It’s for you!” Molly smiled.

“Oh, but I couldn’t–” Sara began, replacing the stopper.

“Of course you can!” Molly insisted, “Charlie doesn’t like me having it anyway. He knows it was a gift from another man before him.” She paused, then added, “You know how jealous men can be!”

Sara didn’t really know about such things, but she nodded anyway, then leaned forward and gave Molly a grateful hug. “Thank you!” she whispered.

A few hours after Molly had retired to her own room, Sara was awakened – though at first, she wasn’t sure why. She could still smell the flowery fragrance wafting around her, and she glanced over at her nightstand, where she could just make out the shape of the beautiful perfume bottle.  

It was then that she began to have the eerie feeling that she could hear whispering coming from somewhere around her – behind the walls, perhaps? Too nervous to move, she lay there until the whispering faded away, and she promised herself that she would investigate in the morning.

Early the next day, she rose and scurried over to the curtains, pulling them open to allow the rising sun to flood the room. She turned around full circle and glanced at the walls, then up to the ceiling, looking for any signs of holes or cracks through which someone’s voice might carry. She was convinced she had heard voices in the night, but who could it have been? Being farmers, Jack and Marie always retired almost as early as she did; and Molly was the only other person besides the twins who slept upstairs. Sara had definitely heard adult voices.

Still in her night gown, Sara left her room, glancing across the hallway to ensure that the Farleys had already gone downstairs. Turning to glance at Molly’s closed door, she was startled when Molly threw it open and almost collided with her. 

“My goodness, you gave me a fright!” Molly exclaimed, stepping back, “Good morning!”

“Good morning,” Sara smiled, then asked, “Did you hear voices in the night, Molly?”

“Don’t be such a silly goose!” Molly teased, “Voices in the night? Honestly, Sara, that imagination of yours!”

“It’s just…I was sure I heard someone.”

Molly put her hands on either of Sara’s shoulders and gave a reassuring squeeze. “There is nothing to be afraid of, except being the last to the privy!” she giggled, and with that, she turned and hurried down the stairs and out the back door to the outhouse.

Sara sighed and glanced toward Molly’s room, then down the stairs. Confident that Molly was outside, she took a step into her bedroom and glanced around for signs that there may have been a visitor in the night, though she wasn’t sure exactly what those signs might be. The bed was neatly made up. Molly kept it tidy, and there wasn’t anything at all that seemed out of place.

Sara stepped over to the window and pulled back the curtain a little. She glanced outside and let out a deep breath. Perhaps Molly was right. Maybe it had been her imagination.

As she turned to leave, she glanced down at the floor and spied a paper chewing gum wrapper. It caught her attention mainly because Sara recognized it as the same brand that Mr. Farley liked to chew. Wrigley’s Spearmint with the white, red and black wrapper.

Curious, she bent down to pick it up, and just then heard the squeak of the screen door at the back of the house signaling Molly’s return. Closing her hand tightly around the wrapper, she hurried back into her own room to get dressed.

Sara was dismayed by her discovery and could scarcely keep her mind on her work all day. She spent the hours watching and listening, but nothing unusual happened among the adults. She felt a responsibility to be very careful not to let anyone know what she had found until she knew what it meant. After all, it made no sense to cause undue speculation. Yet she knew it would be difficult to bite her tongue for too much longer, especially if it became clear that there might be something happening that could hurt someone she loved.        

Several nights later, Sara was awakened by angry voices coming from the back yard. Hesitant as she was to creep across her bedroom in the darkness, her curiosity outweighed her fears, and she slid from her bed, hurrying over to the window.

Carefully pushing aside the edge of one curtain so that she could peer out, Sara focused her vision and spotted three figures in the yard, instantly recognizing one of them as Molly. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Sara realized that the other two people were Charlie Ford and Jack Farley, both of whom appeared to be involved in a nasty argument.

Sara instinctively raised a hand to her chest in alarm when Charlie lashed out and struck Mr. Farley across his cheek, and suddenly, the two were trading punches.

Sara gasped, feeling helpless as she watched Molly move toward the men, waving her arms and raising her voice in an attempt to halt their disagreement. At one point, she managed to wedge herself between them, and at that moment, Charlie jabbed at Jack, unintentionally hitting Molly. Her head snapped to the side as she fell, motionless, to the ground.

Sara held her breath and pressed her nose against the window screen as both men, distracted from their differences, fell to their knees on either side of Molly, attempting to rouse her.

When she offered no response, Jack didn’t protest when Charlie gingerly took his fiancé up into his arms and quickly disappeared around the corner of the house.

Jack dropped his head momentarily as Sara continued to watch, worried for Molly, and curious to see a grown man in such despair.

When Jack unexpectedly raised his eyes to where she was watching from, Sara immediately stepped back from the window in a panic. She felt the heavy curtain tangling around her arms and legs as she attempted to pull herself free of it, but her weight pulled the rod out of the plaster wall as she tumbled backward onto the floor, curtain and all. Sara lay there for a moment, breathing hard, waiting to see if anyone might have heard the chaos and would perhaps come rushing to her room. When the house remained quiet, she jumped up and carefully peered out the window once again. The yard was empty. Jack was gone.

The next morning Sara woke at first light and quietly pulled the chair from the corner over to the window. She managed to reattach the curtain rod to the wall. The bracket seemed loose, yet the curtain didn’t fall when she took her hands away, and so she was content that it was fixed, at least for now.

At the breakfast table, she glanced timidly in Mr. Farley’s direction, but he remained focused on his food, his head down. Marie offered little in the way of conversation, and even Grandma seemed more quiet than usual.

Finally, Sara worked up enough nerve to ask, “Is Molly coming to breakfast?”

When no one was quick to answer, Marie reached over and placed her hand on Sara’s. “Molly left in the night, Sara,” she said firmly.

“And that’s all you need to know, young lady,” Grandma nodded sternly.

Sara dropped her head, nervously kicking the legs of her chair until Marie reached down and touched her left knee, willing the girl to stop moving.

As the day progressed, Sara became increasingly concerned for Molly’s welfare. No one spoke of her, and when Sara peeked into her room after breakfast and saw that all of Molly’s things were gone, she wondered if she would ever see her again.

In the parlour that afternoon, Grandma Farley seemed agitated. “It’s too hot!” she shouted, and Sara sprang to the table where the electric fan was sitting and flicked it on, aiming it a little more toward Grandma’s rocking chair.

“It’s done now!” Grandma barked.

“What’s done, Grandma Farley?” Sara asked, confused.

“The cake!” Grandma Farley exclaimed. Her blank stare frightened Sara, though Mrs. Farley told her that these spells might get worse as time went on.

“No self-respecting man will raise another man’s child!” Grandma shouted again, “We’ll have to take her, Jack, or what will become of her?”

A bale of hay could have fallen from the sky and landed on Sara right there in the parlour and it wouldn’t have hit her as hard as Grandma’s revelation did.

“Grandma!” Marie shouted, entering the room, “What is all the commotion about?”

She glanced at Sara. “What’s wrong?” she asked, concern in her voice, “Sara, what’s wrong?”

Sara couldn’t respond. She didn’t know how to respond.

Marie took her hand and led her out of the parlour.

“Grandma–” Sara began to turn back, “Grandma Farley–”

“She’ll be fine for a few minutes,” Marie reassured her, “Come, Sara.”

They sat at the kitchen table, where Mrs. Farley poured each of them a glass of lemonade, which was reserved for special moments, visitors mostly, so Sara knew an important talk was to come.

“Mr. Thornton isn’t my father,” she shook her head and looked at Marie, “Is he?”

Marie folded her hands calmly in front of her and took a deep breath. “That’s not for me to say, Sara,” she replied, “Mainly because I don’t rightly know the answer.”

“It explains why they didn’t want me,” Sara nodded. “Grandma Farley said no man will raise another man’s child. But why would you and Mr. Farley want to raise me, then?”

“Well, Sara,” Marie began, “We just…” she paused, wringing her hands together now, swallowing hard, “We just wanted to make sure you had a home. A loving home, and I hope that’s what you feel we’ve given you.”

“Oh yes!” Sara exclaimed, tears filling her eyes, “Of course I do, Mrs. Farley! You’ve given me everything!”

Marie’s eyes filled with tears too, and she nodded, wiping them away.

“Good then,” she said, tapping her hands on the table, “I’m glad. And if you have questions beyond that, you’ll need to ask your parents.”

“You mean Mr. and Mrs. Thornton,” Sara sniffed.

“That’s right,” Marie managed a smile. “Though I can tell you that it was indeed Georgie Thornton who brought you home from the hospital all swaddled up in her arms. One thing you can’t mistake is a mother’s love.”

“So it was Mr. Thornton who wouldn’t let her keep me?” Sara asked.

Marie shook her head. “I’ve said too much already, Sara. You’d best get back to the parlour and see to Grandma.”

Sara stood up, wiping her nose with her sleeve. “Mrs. Farley?” she asked.

Marie let out a bit of an impatient breath. “What is it, Sara?”

“Is Molly alright?”

Marie paused, looked out the window toward the barn, and then back to Sara. “She’s fine, yes.”

“I saw Charlie Ford hit her,” Sara admitted.

“Oh my,” Marie gasped, “Well, these are adult matters, but since you know that much I might as well tell you that Charlie took Molly to the hospital in Kingston that night and she recovered just fine, but Mr. Farley and I thought it best that they not come back here.”

“Oh,” Sara breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Now run along, Sara,” Marie urged again, wiping her hands on her apron as she turned back to her tasks in the kitchen.

Sara did as she was told, and though she felt better now that she had spoken with Mrs. Farley, she wondered if she would ever feel ready to ask Georgie Thornton for the truth about her father.

One night, as another vicious storm roared in across the bay, Sara awoke to a huge crash of thunder and howling winds. Bolting up in bed, she instinctively threw back the covers and hurried to the door of her room. Peeking out into the dark upstairs hallway, she looked across to Jack and Marie’s bedroom. The door was open, as it was every night, but it, too, was in darkness, as was Francie’s old room, which the children now shared.

Sara huddled there, listening to the rain pounding down on the tin roof. Then, glancing down the stairs, she saw a dim light shining out into the main hallway, so she quietly tiptoed down, stopping halfway to the bottom to peer through the railings into the kitchen.

Mr. Farley was sitting at the big table, reading by the light of the coal oil lamp that was burning beside him. He was dressed in his rainwear – an old hat and rubber boots, and Sara knew that he was keeping watch over the house and surrounding yard in the event that a tree should fall or a roof lift away from one of the buildings.

“Might as well come down,” he suggested, without looking up from his book, and Sara happily obliged.

She made her way downstairs and into the kitchen and took her place on the chair at the opposite end of the table to where he was sitting, draping her long nightgown over her legs as she pulled them up in front of her.

Neither of them spoke a word, though Sara strained her eyes to see what he was reading. Gone With the Wind. Sara smiled, and there the two of them sat, Sara listening to the storm, and Mr. Farley being swept away by Scarlett O’Hara.

Sara closed her eyes and let her mind wander back to the Saturday prior, when Mr. Farley drove into Napanee for supplies and returned with a treat for her – a Lowney’s chocolate cherry blossom in a bright yellow box.  It was the sweetest, richest thing she had ever tasted. He’d also stocked up on his favourite chewing gum. Wrigley’s Spearmint with the white, red and black wrapper.

“I suppose you’re not the only one who chews that kind of gum, Mr. Farley,” Sara ventured, feeling a bit like Nancy Drew or Miss Marple as she’d watched him tuck away his supply in the pantry.

“Suppose not,” Mr. Farley drawled, “All the boys chew it in the fields. That’s a lot of gum to buy!” he chuckled.

Sara thought again about the whispering voices she’d heard that night from her room. It could have been anyone’s gum wrapper that she’d found in Molly’s bedroom the next day. Maybe it was Charlie who had made a late-night visit to see his fiancé. Molly probably waited until everyone in the house was asleep before secretly letting Charlie inside and leading him upstairs. Mr. Farley most likely discovered the indiscretion and confronted them about it, which led to the unfortunate events that transpired in the back yard. Suddenly, it all made sense to Sara, and she needed it all to make sense.

As the thunderstorm began to move away, she yawned and rose from her chair to return to her bed, leaving Jack Farley still reading by the light of the lantern.

Summer passed. Sara never heard or saw a glimpse of Molly or Charlie again, but every time she entered Francie’s old room to tend to the twins, she glanced around, remembering how she would sometimes sit on the bed and watch Molly swing open the doors of the walnut wardrobe to show off her collection of lacy dresses. Molly would tell her all about the fashions in Toronto and what the girls were wearing. Sara felt sad about the wedding. She had been looking forward to the day when Charlie would drive them into town so that they could find a bridesmaid’s dress.

“It doesn’t need to be fancy,” Molly would say, twirling around, “It’s not the dress. It’s how you wear the dress!”

With the onset of fall came news that war was declared in Europe, and many local boys were eager to enlist. Women, too, were quick to join the effort, and amid all the activity as families prepared to see their loved ones off to war, Sara received word from Kingston that her mother was finally calling her home.

“Factories are hiring,” Sara told Jack and Marie as they sat on the front porch, “My two brothers have enlisted, and my sisters are going to work at the woolen mill near my parents’ house.” She paused, and then corrected herself, “Near my mother’s house.”

Jack glanced at Marie and then looked off into the distance toward the cow pasture. “Well,” he slowly drawled, “I suppose this is how it starts again.”

Sara watched as he reached into his pocket and produced a stick of Wrigley’s Spearmint chewing gum.

“Seems like just yesterday the war ended, and now another one is upon us,” Marie shook her head.

“Mother will miss you, Sara,” Jack nodded, chewing the gum as he continued to stare off across the fields, “And so will we.”

“I’ll come back!” Sara piped up, “For visits! Of course I will!”

“Of course you will,” Marie smiled, turning to look at the young woman she had helped to raise as if she were her own daughter. “Of course you will, Sara.”

Sara could see the sadness in Marie’s eyes.  

“You’ll always know where to find us,” Jack assured her, and slowly rising from his chair, he quietly retreated inside the house.

Sara began packing her few possessions in preparation for leaving, and as she filled her bag with what few dresses and other items she owned, she reached up to the top of her bureau and produced the bottle of perfume that Molly had given her. Clutching it to her chest, Sara closed her eyes and pictured Molly, wondering if she and Charlie were married by now.  

She was surprised when it was Mrs. Farley who pulled the car around to pick her up at the front door.

Sara silently climbed in, plunking her small travel case on her lap. She turned to smile at the twins in the back seat, but something was weighing heavy on her heart.  

“Jack couldn’t bring himself to say goodbye,” Marie acknowledged, glancing over at the barn, and then she turned to Sara, holding out a small coin purse that contained the girl’s final wages. “There’s a little extra in there for you,” she nodded, “And that’s between us. No one needs to know. Do you understand, Sara?”

Sara looked into Marie’s eyes as they misted over with tears. The girl nodded, and Marie slid the coin purse into her hand.

“Good,” Marie nodded, composing herself as she turned back to the steering wheel.

As the car left the driveway, Sara glanced back at the big farmhouse, and as her eyes scanned the yard and finally, the barn, she saw Mr. Farley step out to watch them drive away.

Several weeks later, Sara stopped on the way home from the woolen mill to pick up a copy of the Friday newspaper as requested by Mrs. Thornton. She couldn’t bring herself to call the woman “mother”, and Georgie didn’t seem to mind either way, so until Sara was ready to ask the questions that were haunting her, Mrs. Thornton it was.

Dropping the newspaper on the kitchen table in the small, cramped apartment she now called home, a flash of words on the back page caught Sara’s attention.

Unfolding the paper, she read the article. “FORD – BLAIR: A wedding took place quietly at Cataraqui United Church on Saturday, October 21^st at 11 a.m. when Miss Molly Elizabeth Blair, the only daughter of the late Mr. and Mrs. John Joseph Blair of Toronto was married to Mr. Charles Everett Ford of Cobourg. The bride, who wore a periwinkle blue gown with a matching hat, carried blue gladiolus, and was given in marriage by Mr. Douglas Major, an elder of the church. The bride chose not to have a bridesmaid. Mr. Austen Ford of Cobourg, brother of the groom, was the groomsman. After the ceremony, the bride and groom departed for Toronto, where they remained a few days before proceeding by train to Saskatchewan, where Mr. Ford has found work as a farmhand.”

Sara let out a surprised breath and sat down, holding the newspaper and thinking back on the summer. Just then, Georgie Thornton walked in and joined her at the table.

“Anything in the paper?” Georgie asked.

“Not much,” Sara answered, shaking her head. She set down the newspaper and turned to her mother, “But before anyone else gets home, I have a few questions to ask you.”