Russia, as Austria’s ally, mobilized its army to assist Austria and called for France, its ally, to enter the war. As a consequence, Germany declared war on Russia and France. As German troops poured into Belgium, Sir Edward Grey, Britain’s foreign secretary, sent an ultimatum ordering Germany to withdraw her troops. Germany refused and Britain declared war on them, drawing Canada into the fray as well.

By the end of August, thousands of Russians had died in the Battle of Tannenberg and 125,000 had been taken prisoner. Great Britain’s ally, Japan, declared war on Germany. The Germans went after the Russians at Masurian Lakes, taking another 45,000 prisoners. The Ottoman Empire entered the war to help Germany, as they continued their advance through Belgium.

Marta grieved. “The world has gone mad.”

A letter arrived from Rosie.

The whole of Europe is involved in this gathering storm. It is like an argument that starts between two boys, and then others join in to help one side or the other, and soon it becomes a mob. Oh, Marta, I fear thousands will die if this goes the course my father and brothers say it will. I thank God I am enclosed in the mountains of Switzerland and our men will not be involved in the fighting…

You know how much I love you. You are my dearest friend. And so I feel I have the right to ask you: Why are you waiting? What does a house matter if the man you love no longer lives there? You have written enough about dear Niclas for me to know he is not like your father. Go to him. You will never be happy otherwise.

Marta crumpled the letter in her hand and wept. It would have been better if she had never fallen in love. She ached to be with Niclas. Her life had become misery without him. But she couldn’t just go. She had to think of the baby, too. Niclas’s baby.

She ran her hand over her swelling belly. She remembered Solange’s screams as her flesh tore. She remembered the blood. Would there be a midwife in the middle of the plains, miles from town? What if something went wrong?

Carleen came in with the mail. She shook her head, and Marta knew there was no letter from Niclas. Everyone in the house seemed to be waiting for word from him.

Dear Niclas,

Please forgive me for not seeing you off at the train station or wishing you well. You must despise me for being such a stubborn wife.

I’m afraid to come to Manitoba now. I helped deliver a baby in Montreux. I know what it entails. It is another three months before our baby will arrive, and then I will need time to heal.

I don’t want to sell the boardinghouse yet. It took years to save up for it, and I will lose what I have invested in repairs and paint and furnishings. It is not simply about the money. After one season on the plains, you may change your mind about farming. What if locusts come and there is nothing left, or blight? We have a house here in Montreal. We have a way to make a living.

Promises flow easily from the lips of the rich, Niclas. Other than Boaz, I have never heard of a man so generous to his workers as Herr Madson. If you didn’t get it in writing, you may find his hands full after the harvest, and your own, callused and empty.

She received his reply two weeks later.

My dearest wife,

I thank God. I have prayed constantly that your heart would soften toward me.

A man is only as good as his word. My yes is yes. God tells us not to worry. Look to the birds of the air and the lilies of the field, and see how He feeds and clothes them. God will take care of us, too. Wait until you see the beauty of this land, the waves of wheat that ripple like waves on a sea. You are never alone. God is with you, Marta, and I would be with you, too.

But I understand your fear. You are God’s gift to me, my ever-practical wife. As much as I miss you, I think you are right in remaining in Montreal until after our baby comes. As soon as you are well enough and you both can travel, come to me. Let me know well in advance when you will arrive so I will be in Winnipeg to meet you.

Marta read between the lines and knew Niclas had signed a contract guaranteeing he would work the land, but had received no written promises from the landowner. She flattened the letter on her table and rubbed her aching temples. The baby kicked strongly and she leaned back, resting her hands over her abdomen.

Sighing, she closed her eyes, weary of the battle. God, I give up. What do I do? In that moment of stillness and quiet, she knew. Feeling a lightness inside her, she pushed her chair back, folded the letter, and stuffed it into her apron pocket. She found Carleen in the laundry room. “I’m going to Manitoba as soon as the baby is born and I can travel.”

Her face fell. “So you’ll be selling the house.”

“No. I’m going to train you to run it.”

“Me? Oh no! I couldn’t be doing that!”

“Nonsense.” She grabbed hold of a sheet Carleen was cranking through the wringer, shaking it out as it came through. “You’re five years older than I, and you finished high school. If I can do it, of course you can.” She laughed. “The most important thing is to keep the lions well fed.”

13

1915


Joy filled Marta when she saw Niclas waiting for her. He looked tan and lean, his face intent as he looked from car to car. When he saw her, he smiled broadly. Laughing, she lifted their son, swaddled in a blanket Carleen had given her, so Niclas could see him through the train window.

Gone was the anger that had consumed her during the hours of her travail, when she had felt deserted by Niclas. Still, the anger had helped her press through the pain. She had cried out only once, when her body forced Bernhard into the world and he screamed in protest. Carleen washed and swaddled him in blankets and handed him over to Marta. A bubble of joy came and she laughed. She had never thought she would ever have a husband, let alone a child, and now God had given her both. A brief cloud darkened the moment as she thought of Elise and her child dying in the cold. But she pressed it away and drank in the sight of her newborn son nursing, his small hand pressed against her flesh.

Niclas ran and caught up with the passenger car, then strode alongside until it came to a full halt. Paying a porter to gather her things and collect her trunk, she headed for the door.

“Marta.” Niclas waited for her at the bottom of the steps, his blue eyes moist. He steadied her with a firm hand beneath her elbow. “I thought you’d never come.” Giving her a quick kiss on the cheek, he drew the blanket down so he could get a better look at his son.

“He’s beautiful, isn’t he?” Her voice quavered.

He raised eyes. “Ja. Wunderschön.” He slipped his arm around her. “Come. Let’s get your things loaded into the wagon. We’re staying overnight at a hotel before heading out to the farm tomorrow morning.”

She looked up at him. “English, Niclas, or have you forgotten already?”

He laughed. “Let me have him.” She deposited the baby carefully into his waiting arms. Niclas held him close against his heart, gazing down at him in wonder. The baby awakened. “Bernhard Niclas Waltert, I am your papa. Mein Sohn.” Tears slipped down Niclas’s bronzed cheeks as he kissed him. “Mein Sohn.”

Marta felt an odd twisting inside her. “And if he’d been a daughter, would you have loved him as much?” Niclas raised his head, gaze questioning. She didn’t repeat the question.

When they reached the hotel room, Niclas took Bernhard from the basket where Marta had settled him. “I want to see him.” He laid the baby on the bed and unwrapped the blanket. Marta protested.

“He fussed half the night. I hardly slept.”

“I’ll hold him if he fusses.”

“And will you nurse him, too?”

Niclas looked at her. “So sharp, Marta.” He returned his attention to their son, who awakened and began to kick his legs and cry. Niclas lifted him. “I have not seen you in nearly a year, and this is the first day I have laid eyes on my son. Do you begrudge my being eager to hold him?”

His reprimand stung. They could have been together all this time. She could have come into Winnipeg that last week or two and had the services of a midwife. She was his wife and belonged at his side. She watched him pace the room with Bernhard in his arms. Turning away, she unpacked the diapers, baby clothing, and blankets she would need for that night, afraid she would cry. Bernhard cried instead, and Marta felt her milk let down. Pressing her arms against her breasts, she tried to stop the moisture from seeping. Bernhard cried harder.

“What’s wrong with him?” Niclas sounded distressed.

She turned and held out her arms. “He’s hungry.”

Niclas returned the child to her arms and stood watching as she sat on the far side of the bed facing a wall. Head down, back to her husband, she opened her shirtwaist. She jerked slightly as Bernhard took hold and suckled. When Niclas came and sat down beside her, she blushed and raised the blanket over her shoulder. Niclas drew it down again. “Don’t hide from me.” His expression filled with wonder.

She stood and moved away as she shifted Bernhard to the other side. Niclas watched her. When Bernhard made a loud noise, he laughed. Marta laughed, too. “In one end and out the other.” When she finished nursing Bernhard, she flipped out a blanket on the bed and changed his diaper.

Niclas stood over him. “He’s perfect. God has given us a great gift.” When he brushed the tiny, star-shaped hand with his finger, Bernhard grasped hold. “Strong, too. Unser kleiner Bärenjunge.”

“Yes, and our little bear cub will probably keep us awake all through the night.”