The Fight

Jane gazed into the bright orange setting sun, dreaming. It was evenings like these that get one’s dreams flowing. The warm breeze tousling her sagging curls, and caressing her cooling skin. The caress much like his. The memories flooding her with warmth, the warmth caused by his sweet gentle touch upon her cheek, as he knelt on one knee. 

“Will you marry me, my sweet Jane? I promise to love always. Please Jane, make me a happy man.”

“I am already married to you in my heart,” Jane whispered into the breeze, like she had done so long ago. As the brightness faded from the sky so did her warm and happy thoughts.

Time was taking its’ toll. Not receiving a letter from him in nearly nine months, nor one from Arthur in six months, was causing her great concern. Her heart’s desire and brother were deep within enemy territory. Letters were far and few in the best of times, but now those troops were fighting front line, many were never coming home.

Daily Jane checked the list posted of the soldiers dead and missing. Praying several times a day to never see Arthur McGuire or Stanly Hughes on that paper. Walking home from her shift at the launders, she passed the board that held the tone to the end of her day. The great relief she felt when her loved ones were not listed, she could continue home, dreaming.

Each evening as she entered through the front door Momma would ask how her day had went, as always there was a double meaning to the question. Would her son be seeing a new day tomorrow?

Sitting on the porch steps each evening they would speak of the days to come with the promise to make each hold mention of their loved ones and the future they would share with them. Tears were shared; dreams expressed with hope. With Stanly and Arthur away they shared their sorrows.

Having lost her father a few years before, Jane and her mother had no one else  close to express their thoughts to. He had been killed in a logging accident when the team of horses spooked and drug the logs over him. Now they kept his memory alive with stories which they often shared. Momma still grieved Poppa. 

As night’s blanket covers her, the fears start to creep in. The thoughts of loosing Stanly swarming in her mind, sleep was hard to come over her. Many a time she would lay completely exhausted, unable to sleep then return to work, scrubbing until her hands were raw. There had been warnings or lye bars flung at her to keep her motivated. The boss was firm, but not unfair. She found the hard laundry bars to be tough on her head and usually left with a bruise at the whistle signalling the day’s end.

Days, weeks and months had passed all the same; all in a blur. Time stood still and passed in a blink of an eye. The war raged on, many losses on both sides. A follow worker had a radio in her home and passed on any news when the boss was not present. The news was never good. 

Stanly and Arthur were out there somewhere fighting. Both being on the frontlines. There was one way to deal with this was work hard. The harder she scrubbed the more she sweated, the easier she went to sleep.

The days wore on. Jane visited her grandparents farm once a month on her day off. They were giving the farm over to her and Stanley on their wedding day. Handing over the work sounded like a big helping hand. Now it was another pressure. Leaving them after the hugs and farewells she cried. Begging the dear Lord to bring her love, her help mate, her life home safe and sound. Returning to work the next day only got worse.

The worries weighing her down more than ever, distracting her. Thus gaining the attention of the boss. Giving her the last warning minutes after she received a whack from a soap bar that brought tears to her eyes. From then on she had to outperform herself, with not one slip-up into exhaustion or she was to be given her walking papers.

“Darling, you bring me such joy. I am dreaming of our future together. We will have a good life. The future promises happiness, healthy children and a farm that’s ready made. Oh, I love you.” Bringing his gentle lips to hers deeply while slipping strong arms around her and cradling her close. His love filled her to soar through the days that followed, the joy is so full and complete. Her love grew and blossomed to greater levels. Knowing in that moment her life was complete, with Stanly as her husband the future was bright and beautiful.

The memory so strong embracing Jane. This moment felt less gloomy with the whisper of his lips warming hers. Shaking her head to focus on the way home she felt as he were near. The caress of his lips fresh upon hers keeping the promise of their future. She knew she must stay positive and believe firmly they would share their lives very soon. Walking on Jane lived within the memories.

Nearing the post office a wailing moan pierced her thoughts. Stopping she watched as a lady was helped to stumble away from the list of lost soldiers by her daughter. Mrs. Stromy cried openly, her children surrounding her tears slipping down their pale cheeks. Then Jane knew. They had lost their father.

Dread filled her as she ran the short distance to the board posted on the front of the mail office. Frantically reading the names, it wasn't her brothers she was searching for. Her gaze rested on the names on the missing in action list. There plainly written was Stanley Hughes. Gasping, she reread the name again. It did not seem real. This was a mistake this was not his name. But she knew in the back of her mind she knew it was his name. Stanley was missing.

Knees weak, head dizzy, Jane turned away. Trying to calm her raging pain she gasped for breath. The shaking in her limbs overwhelming her. She viewed her hands in a daze. There is something wrong with those hands she thought. Frowning she looked down her body as it jerked in place. What was happening?

She felt cold. Very, very cold. That must be why she was shaking. A slow crying sound  slipped past her frozen lips. Realizing she must have imagined his name she returned to look again to confirm she was mistaken.

Stepping up to the board she reread the list once more. Confirming her brother was not listed. A sliver of relief warmed her a tiny bit. Skipping her eyes over the names she confirmed there was no Arthur McGuire. The only name that caught in her attention was listed under ‘Missing in Action’.

Her beloved was lost with dozens of others, presumed dead. Flashes of his name on a tombstone flicked in her mind. Other images were of him lying in a muddy ditch covered in blood slowly dying. As if the life draining from his body was draining hers as well the coldness overwhelmed her weak muscles. On tired trembling knees, Jane stumbled in the direction of home. She needed her mother. She needed her mother's warm hug. She would never feel Stanly’s warm touch or hear his voice ever again. Swaying to and fro struggling to maintain maintain her footing on the path home. Jane’s chest tightened. Blackness stole the last of her strength.