The Northwoods Read online

  Peter sighed and shuddered against her. Evelyn released him and went to gather the food for their meal. Peter slumped away to prepare the table. Evelyn took a loaf of bread she had baked the day before and carved thick slices. She moved the pot of stew to the table and began to ladle it into bowls. The silence in the room was palpable, and as everyone gathered around the table, a mood of dark grimness seemed to join them. Peter’s lips trembled.

  “When do you leave?” he finally asked.

  “I’m not sure,” Evelyn said. “Your uncle’s stopping by tonight so we can decide. He’ll be taking me up to the camp in his wagon. We’ll have to leave before the first snow.”

  Karl pushed his bowl away, only a few small nibbles gone, and started to cry. Helen gently rested a hand on his shoulder and tried to lighten the mood.

  “Your mother will have some grand tales to tell you when she returns home,” she said. “Paul Bunyan and his blue ox Babe—they’re always up to something.”

  Only Louise, who didn’t grasp the gravity of the situation in any way, giggled and merrily swung her legs back and forth beneath the table.

  Just as they finished their dinner, silent except for occasional sniffles from Peter and Karl, there was a knock on the door and Will entered. He resembled George in many ways, with his thick mop of brown hair and matching brown eyes, but he didn’t have George’s girth. Will was tall and lean, his arms dangling by his sides. As he stepped into the house, his eyes landed on Evelyn, and he turned pale. Evelyn had sent word of her plan to him by way of Helen. He shook his head.

  “You’re almost the spitting image of him with all that gear on,” he said. “If I didn’t know better…”

  “Think I’ll pass?” Evelyn asked.

  “As long as you can keep up with the work,” Will said. “I think so.”

  “George was a sawyer, and you know I’m no stranger to the ax. I reckon I can take down a tree as well as any man.”

  The boys sat silently while Louise played with a doll in a corner near the stove. Helen cleared the table and put things back in place.

  “When do we go?” Evelyn asked.

  “Weather’s taking a change,” Will said. “Cold’s setting in, and it’s already mid-November. First freeze was two nights ago, so the first snow’s not far behind. Can you be ready in three days’ time?”

  Evelyn looked at Helen, who nodded. She then looked at the children. Peter and Karl gazed at her with dread. She knew that leaving sooner would give her children less time to fret over what was to be.

  “I’ll be ready,” she said.

  “I’ll be by at the break of dawn,” Will said. “It’ll be a full day’s travel.”

  “Coffee, Will?” Helen offered. “Still have some warm on the stove.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He pulled a chair up near the stove, and the children gathered around him. He turned to Peter.

  “You going to help me keep this farm in good shape, son?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” Peter said glumly.

  Will placed a hand on Peter’s shoulder. He had the same kindness that George had harbored.

  “We’ll just make sure we keep things running smoothly so your mother doesn’t come home to any surprises,” he said.

  Helen handed him a cup of steaming coffee, and Will settled in his chair.

  “Who’s up for a story?” he asked the children.

  Louise and Karl clapped their hands in excitement, and even Peter smiled slightly. Evelyn sighed with relief, seeing him relax for the first time since she told him she would be leaving.

  “Did I tell you the one about the night I was driving the horse and wagon down a dark road and came upon a barn dance?”

  “No,” the children said in unison.

  “Well, one cold rainy night I was traveling down a road that didn’t seem to end,” Will said. “I drove and drove, and then suddenly, I saw a dimly lit barn off the side of the road, not too far away, in a field. I headed toward the barn and heard music. Ah, I said to myself, they must be having a dance. When I reached the barn and went inside, I came upon the strangest barn dance I’ve ever seen.”

  Evelyn sat beside Helen at the table and listened as Will’s voice blanketed the room, the wind outside rising to a shrill whistle. She looked about the home that she had lived in all her life—as a child, and now as a mother. The house was simple—two stories, with two bedrooms and a small fireplace in the upper loft. The kitchen, which housed the woodstove, a small baker, and a dining table, was downstairs, as was the sitting area, the rooms separated by a large brick fireplace. In the sitting area were a wide bench and two wooden chairs. A small hallway off the kitchen led first to the pantry and then out to the backyard and the outhouse. The root cellar was under the kitchen floor, accessible by a trapdoor, which opened to steep, slanting steps.

  Like most farm homes of the time, the structure was modest, but it had all the basic comforts and necessities, and Evelyn’s stomach churned when she thought about the conditions she would be living in that winter at the logging camp. She stood and went to look out the window near the woodstove. The trees had been stripped down to gaunt figures, bent and gnarled, and fallen leaves drifted back and forth in the winds, like the tide, ebbing and flowing. She felt the coldness of the wind on the other side of the window. The winter would be a frigid one.

  * * *

  After Will left and Evelyn settled the children into their beds, she went to her bedroom to get a pair of scissors. She examined herself in the mirror again. The next time she did so the hair that reached midway down her back would be gone. That was the last element of herself that she could change, physically. Mentally, she had no idea how to prepare for her venture. She was entering a grisly world, and the one thing she knew was that she could show no weaknesses, harbor no vulnerabilities. She turned from the mirror and went downstairs. Helen glanced at her and Evelyn handed her the scissors.

  “I need you to cut my hair,” she said.

  “Ah, the final step of your transformation,” Helen said.

  “Make it as short as you can,” Evelyn told her.

  They laid an old sheet on the floor, and Evelyn set a chair on it and sat. She released a jagged sigh as Helen gathered the thick tresses of hair in one hand and slowly began to cut. Chunks of hair fell to the floor. Neither of them spoke, almost as if that act signified a time of great change for both of them. Helen finally cleared her throat and broke the silence.

  “Have you thought about how different your life will be now, without George?” she asked.

  Evelyn glanced down at the hair gathering on the sheet below.

  “Beyond this?” she said. “Not really. Despite the obvious. All the responsibility is mine now—the children, the farm.”

  “Perhaps you’ll marry again at some point in the future,” Helen said.

  “Can’t imagine being with any man but George,” Evelyn said. “Even that marriage, as you know, was born more of circumstance. Until now I never wondered what I might have done if George hadn’t been waiting for me on the sidelines after Mother and Father passed away.”

  “Maybe you would have tried to manage the farm on your own,” Helen said. “Or you could have met another man.”

  “That doesn’t seem likely,” Evelyn said. “What about you? Have you never met a man who…?”

  She fell silent. She knew better.

  “I’m perfectly content with my life,” Helen said.

  “With Jess?” Evelyn asked.

  She had never broached the subject before.

  “Well, yes,” Helen said. “She is my best friend, my confidante.”

  “But what about…?”

  “Intimacy?” Helen asked. “Love?”

  Evelyn felt herself blushing. She nodded.

  “We share the same bed,” Helen said. “I’m sure you’ve figured that out by now. We share everything. I would be devastated without her.”

  “I have often wondered about the breadth of your relat
ionship,” Evelyn said. “Even after I walked in on you two that one day…I wasn’t sure. I didn’t know what to think. Why didn’t you ever tell me before?”

  “That day you saw me and Jess I thought you were embarrassed, uncomfortable,” Helen said. “I thought you might be against it.”

  “I was just caught a bit off guard,” Evelyn said. “I would never judge you. I just didn’t know what to say. We have taken such different paths. You never did consider staying on the farm, did you?”

  Having been born into a farm family with only daughters, Evelyn and Helen had helped their father with the bulk of the farm work. Helen did so begrudgingly, but Evelyn embraced it wholeheartedly. She loved the connection to the land—putting her hands in the soil, tending to the crops, reaping the fruits of the harvest. The rhythms of the different seasons drew her in and drove her.

  “Not really,” Helen said. “I didn’t dislike the farm, but you know I always took more of a liking to town, and to books. I wanted something different, and I realized in my teen years that my attraction was toward women. Do you remember Emma May?”

  “Of course,” Evelyn said. “Her folks had the apple orchard we always went to.”

  “She was my first crush,” Helen said. “We had a few occasions of exploration in the barn on the days when we would visit, but we never did see each other enough to pursue it.”

  “I never knew,” said Evelyn.

  “You know, you don’t have to be with a man again, marry,” Helen said. “This time the choice is yours. You can raise the children and run the farm on your own. Jess and I will always be here to help you.”

  That thought had never before entered Evelyn’s mind. No other words were said, but she found herself harboring an ache, deep down, as she wondered if she could ever have what Helen had—a relationship that was anchored by more than survival and necessity.

  When Helen finished cutting Evelyn’s hair, she held a hand mirror up before Evelyn so she could see. Evelyn studied her new self.

  Evelyn had been trying to put up a strong front since her decision to go to the camp, but alone with Helen, she spoke frankly.

  “I’m afraid of what I might encounter up in those woods,” she said. “My only reference to men, really, is George and our father.”

  “Both well-mannered men,” Helen said. “Father had such a good sense of humor.”

  “He did. I know the men I am about to be surrounded by will be nothing like him. I’m guessing they will be a rather brutal lot.”

  “I wish you didn’t have to go,” Helen said.

  “So do I,” Evelyn admitted. “I don’t know of any other way, though. I have to save this. This is all I have—my children, the farm.”

  “I know,” Helen said. “I know.”

  Evelyn gathered up the sheet from the floor and took it outside to release the hair to the winds. She returned inside to sweep up any leftover remnants. She looked at Helen.

  “I wish George had told me more about the camp, but I realize now he was probably sparing me his misery, which makes me worry even more. I have no idea what to expect.”

  “Then expect the unexpected,” Helen told her.

  “I will,” Evelyn said before turning away and heading up the stairs.

  “Good night, sister,” Helen said.

  “Sleep tight,” Evelyn replied.

  In her room, Evelyn stood before the mirror once again. If she didn’t know better, she could see herself as a man. She didn’t mind what she saw in the mirror, as she had never been one to home in on her femininity. She looked at herself and pondered her life. A husband and children had always seemed to be a given, only because there were no other apparent options. Unlike Helen, Evelyn had seen no path other than marriage. But now… Besides her trepidation, she felt a small burst of excitement travel through her. A part of her was thrilled to embark on the first real solo journey of her life, though she was also intrigued and overwhelmed by the thought that she would be making that journey disguised as a man. Either way, she was ready to take George’s place.

  * * *

  Evelyn’s last meal with her children and sister the night before she left for the logging camp was a somber one. Few words were spoken and the winds outside howled, reminding everyone of the long winter that was about to descend upon them. Evelyn sat with Louise in her lap and tried to console Karl and Peter. Helen sat silently with a solemn look on her face, and Evelyn knew she was worried.

  “You boys know I’ll return as soon as I make enough money to help us out here,” Evelyn said.

  “Before spring?” Peter asked.

  “I hope so,” Evelyn said. “I’ll definitely be back for planting time. You just stick to your chores and take care of your brother and sister, and winter will be over before you know it.”

  “I guess,” Peter said.

  “I’ll help,” Karl chimed in, slinging an arm around Peter.

  “I want you boys to go out to the shed now and get me your father’s ax,” Evelyn said as Louise shifted in her lap.

  Evelyn watched them as they pulled on coats and hats and headed outside. Helen rose to clean off the table, and Evelyn hummed to Louise as she rocked her back and forth. Louise’s eyelids slowly fluttered and closed. With Louise finally sleeping calmly in her lap, Evelyn bent over and lightly kissed her forehead as her own eyes filled with tears. The children didn’t know that she dreaded her journey as much as they did. Never before had she spent even a day away from them, and her heart sank as she thought of them being absent from her life for so long.

  She heard stomping outside the door, the boys cleaning off their boots before entering. When they walked in, Evelyn gestured for them to be quiet as she stood with Louise in her arms and took her upstairs to put her to bed. When she returned downstairs and joined the boys, Peter handed her the ax. Evelyn examined it. George had always taken meticulous care of his tools, and the ax was no exception. The bit was sharpened and the head was oiled and securely fastened to the handle. She checked the handle for any cracks or splits and smiled when she saw the initials that George had carved into the bottom of the handle—GB. She set the ax down. She pulled the boys close to her and hugged them tightly.

  “Don’t know how I’m going to make it without seeing you boys every day,” she said.

  Peter looked up as tears traced down her cheeks, and he tightly wrapped his arms around her waist.

  “It’ll be all right, Ma,” he said. “Me and Karl will do whatever Uncle Will and Aunt Helen say, and we’ll take good care of Louise.”

  “Yep,” Karl said.

  “I know that,” Evelyn said. “Your pa and I couldn’t have raised better boys. But I’m going to miss you every day. You head upstairs now and I’ll come tuck you in.”

  The boys hugged Helen good night and went upstairs. When Evelyn stood to join them, Helen handed her a tiny booklet tied together with string and a stub of a pencil.

  “I made you this so you can track the time,” she said.

  Evelyn fingered the hand-fashioned calendar and flipped through the pages.

  “You went all the way to May,” she said.

  “Well, we’ve had many an Easter snow,” Helen said.

  Evelyn grunted.

  “Let’s hope that’s not the case this season.”

  “I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Helen said. “Either way, when you return it will be a new year.”

  “I reckon just returning home will make 1853 one of my best years ever,” Evelyn said.

  They looked at each other steadily and then silently embraced.

  * * *

  That night as Evelyn lay in bed listening to the wailing of the winds outside, she ran a hand over the empty space in the bed beside her and thought of George. She knew he would think she was doing the right thing. She missed the sense of him, his partnership, the comfort of his presence, even his arms, sturdy around her. The prairie was a difficult place to stand alone. She felt an ache in the pit of her belly, a gnawing loneliness, a
nd she thought that, if nothing else, she would be too busy at the camp, too exhausted, to dwell on her loss and the newness of her life.

  Before turning off the kerosene lamp that dimly lit her room, Evelyn fingered the book lying on her nightstand—Charlotte Brontë’s Jane Eyre. Evelyn had borrowed the book from Helen, the source of all her reading materials. She had already read the book three times, marveling each time at the passion and turmoil between Jane and Mr. Rochester. She had had plenty of turmoil and hardship in her life, but she didn’t even know if she would be able to identify passion, which made her even more curious. She thought about her conversation with Helen. She had always known that relationships between two women or two men existed, and she had always assumed they entailed all the same facets as a relationship between a woman and a man, but she sensed that Helen and Jess’s relationship was more rooted in passion. Evelyn couldn’t even imagine a circumstance where that might occur for her. As soon as she returned home from the camp, she would be back to running the farm, and that would be a solitary existence, except for the children. She ran her hand over the cover of Jane Eyre, feeling as if she would probably never experience the romance within those pages.

  Chapter Two

  As the horse-drawn wagon traveled slowly over the dirt road, Sarah Bell sat solemnly beside Sam Hardy, the older brother of Abigail Hardy, Sarah’s lover for six years, the woman they had buried that day. Abigail had died of pneumonia at the early age of thirty. Sarah was numb and stunned, and she rode with Sam in a daze.

  Sarah had been orphaned at the age of eight, when her parents died of typhoid fever. She was raised in the orphanage outside a little town called Pine Creek, and at the age of seventeen, she was taken in by the local seamstress, Abigail Hardy, to help her with her business. Abigail, seven years her senior, gave Sarah a room to stay in and full rein of the house, and they soon became close friends, spending nearly all their waking hours together.

  Six months after settling into the Hardy house, Sarah realized that she was not only fond of Abigail, but she was also attracted to her. Abigail was a slender, pale woman with long blond hair and freckles that spread across the bridge of her nose and cheeks, and one could easily get caught in the sea of her moss green eyes. Neither her feelings for Abigail nor her attraction to her were foreign to Sarah, as she had harbored a secret crush on another girl at the orphanage, Molly, ever since she was thirteen. When they were caught kissing in the bathroom by a member of the staff, they were quickly separated, and their budding romance was squelched.