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It was September 12th, the year 1944. I’ll never forget this day as long as I live.
I had sent the girls off to school and had hung the laundry out to dry. There was not a cloud in the sky and there was a gently fall like breeze in the air. I gave Moses his morning bathe and snuggled him in for a nap. He was such a good baby and I know he loved me.I decided to do some mending , and I made myself comfortable on Papa’s chair on the porch.
I thought I could hear crying and whimpering in the distance and my heart began to pound. I threw my mending on the porch floor and ran towards the cries.
I saw my sisters and Miss Simpson. They were hugging each other and it looked like Mary Lou and Lucille were trying to help Miss Simpson along, I didn’t understand, this was the middle of a school day.
“What’s going on?” I screamed. “What’s going on?”
It seemed like Miss Simpson was gasping for air. She tried to speak, but all I heard come from her were those mournful cries.
“Mary Lou! Lucille! Tell me what is happening!” I demanded.
“Let’s get back to the house, Haley and we will tell you the whole story, OK? Miss Simpson needs some water.” Lucille replied in a take charge kind of manner.
So the three of us supported Miss Simpson as we stumbled the couple hundred yards back to our house. Mary Lou rushed to get some gold water from the well and Lucille and I rested Miss Simpson on Papa’s rocking chair.
“The men came to school,” Lucille began to speak. “They came in their arm uniforms.”
For a split second I thought perhaps the army was coming to say Papa was killed in a battle, but then I remembered that his part in the war was fiction, all made up by me. I encouraged Lucille to continue.
“They said that Miss Simpson’s husband was missing in action in France. They told her he was a brave man and he died for his country and for freedom for all mankind.”
Miss Simpson collapsed to the floor, screaming his name and waving her arms in the air.
I thought it best that Miss Simpson stay with us for the next couple of days. She was in no shape to be on her own, and of course she had looked after us after Mama passed. Now it was Miss Simpson’s turn to have someone care for her.
I didn’t understand this whole war thing, and why such an innocent man was killed. I had never met Miss Simpson’s husband, but he must have been a kind soul cause he had volunteered to go to war.
There are times that I question God’s will. He took Mama. He took Miss Simpson’s husband. Probably two of the most caring people in the world. God must have had work for them to do in heaven.
I had wished there were more partridge left to give Miss Simpson, but we had finished that off on Saturday. She wasn’t eating or saying much of anything anyways. Most of the time she just sat in Papa’s rocker, drinking tea, and crying. I guess that’s what adults do when they grieve, so I just left Miss Simpson alone and made sure there was always fresh tea in the teapot.
Mary Lou and Lucille were happy that school was cancelled for a few days. When Miss Simpson finally spoke she said she had to go to Windsor to meet with some army people on Friday, and go to their house to clean things up. There would be no school on Monday.
Since her husband’s body had not been found, there would be no funeral. Miss Simpson said she wouldn’t be able to live in that house in the city, so she would be selling it. That meant she would be staying on as a teacher here in Kennetcook.
On Friday morning, Miss Simpson was up at dawn. I had her tea ready in her favorite bone china cup when she awoke.
“Oh Haley,” Miss Simpson cried, “You are such a doll. I don’t know what I would have done without you these past few days.”
I really didn’t need to be thanked. It’s just what people did, Mama used to say.
“When I get my business finished with the Army today, I’m going to the house to pick up my personal belongings. I’ll see you tomorrow OK? I’ll bring a basket full of goodies.
With that, Miss Simpson was out the door on a journey that must have been the worst she had ever taken.
Moses woke up with a fever. His little bum was red and he had a rash. I didn’t know what to do. I don’t remember Lucille or Mary Lou ever having a fever. So I tried to think of what Mama would do and I got cold cloths from the well and placed them on the baby’s forehead. It seemed to settle him for a bit. Then he started whaling at the top of his lungs, and the cold cloths stopped working. He had drool coming out of his mouth and I was sure he was taking a fit.
“Mary Lou! Lucille!” I screamed for the girls to come in from watering the horses to get me some fresh cold cloths. I could feel tears starting to well up in my eyes. This couldn’t be possible. I must stay strong and never cry.
Moses was crying so hard that I’m sure his little mouth stretched. Then I saw it. He was cutting his first tooth! His gums were red and raw but sure enough there was a little tooth breaking through. How could I have been so stupid. I should have known the signs of babies cutting teeth. Mama used to tell stories of Lucille being up all night crying and in the morning a tooth would appear. Those are the nights Papa would take off and not return for days.
Finally things got back to half way normal again. Miss Simpson came back from her trip to Windsor, and school would start again. I had to stack the wood that Papa had cut before Moses was born cause it would soon be time to make blazing big fires in the stove to keep us warm during those cold Maritime winters.
Just as she promised, Miss Simpson brought us a basket full of goodies. Plus she had bought us each a new dress and winter boots and Moses. I’m sure Miss Simpson thought we had never had anything new before. Well come to think of it, I’m not sure we ever did have anything new from the store. All of our clothes Mama made, out of flour bags or if we were lucky and Papa hadn’t spent all his pay on liquor, she would have made us girls dresses out of cotton.
After we paraded around the house in our latest fashion, Miss Simpson said she had something she needed to talk to me about. So I asked Lucille and Mary Lou to take Moses and go to the orchard to gather some apples for a pie.
Miss Simpson sat in Papa’s rocking chair as she had in the days past sipping her cup of tea. She looked to be at the peace now with everything that had happened.
“Haley,” she finally spoke “You know I love you and your family, don’t you?” I was taken aback by her statement.
“I never really thought about it much.” I replied, nearly at a loss for words.
“Well, I do love you and I care deeply about your welfare.” Miss Simpson took another sip of tea, and then continued. “I’ve been thinking a lot about our futures over these past few days, Haley, and I would like you to think about what I am going to say.”
With that, I thought for sure that Mr. MacPhee’s name was going to come up.
“I would like to move in here with you and the children Haley. I would teach you in the evening, so you could stay home with Moses during the day. I’m alone and you are alone, so it only makes sense.”
I was silent for a minute. I secretly dreamed of the day that Miss Simpson would want to look after us all the time, sleep in our house and sit in Papa’s rocking chair every evening. “But what about when Papa comes back from the war?” I asked.
Miss Simpson reached for my hand. “My dear sweet Haley. You and I both know your father didn’t go to war. I found your Mama’s journal. I know what happened at White’s Point, and I know that you put a cross on his grave.”
A sudden rush of emotion came over me. I held my head in my hands and I began to cry. For the first time since Mama died, I cried. I think it was more a sense of relief rather than fear, and I was finally able to release my tears.
“You need not worry about me telling anyone Haley, not even Mr. MacPhee. For years I watched your Mama get bruises over her face and arm
s that she just couldn’t explain. In her journal she wrote that your father came home drunk and insisted they go to White’s Point, that he had a porquipine to shoot. Of course she didn’t want to go, but he took her by the hair on her head and led her out of the house. He took the gun. When they finally reached the point, your Mama realized he had intended to shoot her. She struggled to get away from him and was able to get control of his gun. It went off, accidentally and your father fell to the ground. Your Mama was saving her own life and that of her family.”
“Where did you find her journal? Where is it now?” I asked, trying to make sense of all of this.
“She kept it under the mattress. I thought I could feel something strange when I was sleeping.” Miss Simpson took Mama’s journal from her school bag.
“I think we ought to get rid of these pages Haley.” Miss Simpson suggested. “Just to avoid any trouble in the future.”
I nodded in agreement, but first I need to read what Mama had written about that horrible day. How terrified Mama must have been. Miss Simpson and I chose the cherry tree, next to Mama’s grave, and I set fire to the four pages Mama had written about he journey to White’s Point.
We watched in wonder as the paper shriveled in to ashes and dust was all that remained. It signified a new beginning for the Clarke family. New growth. A new start.
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I hope you enjoyed reading Hayley's Journal. This is a fictional piece of writing and in no way reflects on reallife events.
Thank you,
Sonya
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