Abigail Rogers grinned to herself as she splashed around in the salty seawater, rather obliviously sending water flying in every direction. She lifted her dress high up and spun around, dancing clumsily, with signs of toppling over every now and then. "It's a beautiful day!" she yelled to the sea, and grinned again when the waves around her replied: Yessssss……
It was indeed a beautiful day. The sun towered over with its usual friendly warmness, the trees swayed to the beat of the winds, touching each other's branches at times as if whispering among themselves, and the birds let out cheerful chirps from time to time. They too, seem to be exchanging gossips among each other.
Abigail would just love to know what they were talking about, and sometimes she even imagined that she did. But other times, her imagination rather failed her mercilessly, as it did on this very minute.
Never mind, thought Abigail absently. I will not let that spoil this rare moment. You can talk - or chirp all you want, darling birds. I'll just drink in the beauty surrounding me, trapping me inside their grasp.
She 'drank in the beauty', looking over the harbour with eyes as wide as only Abigail's eyes can be. The sea stretched for miles and miles, disappearing behind dusky backgrounds. Abigail wondered what could be beyond the dusk. What is hidden behind the unseen side of the world? What could possibly be waiting for her there?
"Abigail Rogers, you come here at once!" screeched Mr. Rogers. Abigail dropped her skirt into the knee-deep water and gaped at her father, who stood among the tall grasses. If it wasn't for his light brown coat, Abigail wouldn't have been able to differentiate between the two.
"Father!"
"Yes, your father," Mr. Rogers said, in a tone that screamed sarcasm. "Who else would I be? Now, you come here and go home!"
Abigail walked weakly towards him, her wet skirt dragging behind her. Now, why is Father so mad? She couldn't recall doing anything wrong, except for the time when she dragged a struggling chicken all over the backyard, out of temper more than anything else because the chicken had scratched her. But that was ages ago!, insisted Abigail stubbornly. And Father couldn't have possibly found out! She had kept it a sacred secret!
But Father didn't say anything.
And Abigail joyfully joined his steps and thanked the Lord above for sparing her, not noticing the troubled look on her father's face. It must be said that it is not expected out of Abigail to notice anything at all. She, like any other fifteen-year-olds, was naïve and almost as vain as a peacock, lost in their own bubble without a care to the outside world.
But it must also be said that Mr. Rogers was rather thankful for this. He had just received the bad news when he was in town in the morning. It had got him into a bad mood and he knew he wouldn't be able to cope with Abigail's questions or questioning glances if she had known, for Abigail was very good at pestering people.
Instead, he would talk this over with his eldest son, Patrick. He knew he could trust Patrick to keep it a secret from Mrs. Rogers and - no, Mrs. Rogers must be told. But Abigail must not know. And Patrick was sure to be able to take care of that.
Abigail, unconscious of the plans her father had in store for her, walked the rest of the way in her quick, soundless steps. She felt her way of walking was rather stylish, though no one had ever complimented her on it. But she had caught several people admiring her when she walked, hadn't she?
Vain, care-free Abigail….
How her heart would break when she discovers that the 'admiring people' were instead, struggling to control their laughter at her frog-like walk!
Early March morning saw an emotionally ruffled girl of brownish eyes and plain dark hair storming into White Shore barn, surprising all the other girls inside with her condition: frizzled hair and burning cheeks of shame and anger.
"Abigail," Georgia Hunberg, a girl of sixteen with patience and wisdom beyond her years, stood up. "What did you do now?" It was a rather reflex action. What else would anger poor, small Abigail if not that she were caught red-handed in another complicated scrapes of hers?
"I did not do anything!" Abigail replied hotly. How could Georgia? She had come all the way from Lunar Cottage to seek comfort, and this is the treatment that she gets? How dreadful! Inconsiderate brats, indeed!
"Don't look so, Abigail." Wendy Trent teased mercilessly. "You look rather awful!"
"I do not dress to impress!" screeched Abigail, who couldn't turn any redder if Wendy had said she was the ugliest creature alive. "And I do not care if I look awful or whatsoever!"
"Do not yell at us, Abigail." hushed sensible Derrane Frank, barely looking up from sheets of her own drawings, which were to be sent for a competition next week. She had hoped to win, for she had worked on the drawings all winter. Surely they are good enough, aren't they? "Our hearings are in good condition."
"Well, then I'm afraid your sensitivity isn't!"
"Now, sweetie pie," Georgia smiled sympathetically. "What on earth is wrong?" She cast her smile towards Abigail, only to be replied by a cold, icy stare. "Do not call me sweetie pie, Georgia," hissed 'sweetie pie' Abigail. "I am not a child anymore. And as for what on earth is wrong - everything! Father announced last night that I am to not walk out of Hoofburg until he says I could!"
"Oh, for Pete's sake, Abigail, is that all?" Wendy shook her head dubiously. "I thought the world had come to its end! Now, looking at me with a face like that will not solve anything, Abigail."
"Do you not see the consequences? I can no longer take walks, no longer see sunsets, no longer read books by Windy Lake! Oh, it's all so true! I thought it was all a bad dream when I woke up to-day, but Father reminded me at breakfast, and it spoiled my appetite! Oh, and do you have biscuits around here, Georgia? I'm rather hungry."
Georgia went to get cream puffs, smiling at Abigail's exaggerated story. Oh, if only Abigail would look at things calmly and not get everything to her head all at once!
"It won't be long before he changes his mind, darling." Derrane soothed absently still pre-occupied with her drawings. "He knows you cannot survive without going out with us every once in awhile." Derrane, like Abigail, was in favour for Italics.
"No, he won't." protested strong-headed Abigail. "It was in his tone. He said: Abigail, from now on, you are forbidden to go a-walking around, with or without your friends. Oh, how awful of Father! And even Mother and Patrick were against me! I expected Patrick to take up Father's side, of course. Patrick has always hated me, but Mother! I cannot believe Mother would agree with Father! Do they think I cannot look after myself? Do they think I am still a two-year-old?" Abigail stopped for breath. "Oh, how I wish Father weren't here to poke his nose in my business!"
"Abigail!" cried Derrane, finally pulled away from her drawings. "How could you say such a thing! Apologise to God now, or you will go to hell."
"I'm sorry." Abigail mumbled half-heartedly. She really wished Father was afar, where he won't be able to keep an eye on her. It is the 'onest truth! Why should she be sorry when she is speaking of the truth?
"Oh, not to worry." Georgia walked in with a plateful of white cream puffs, responding to Abigail's apology. "It wasn't much of a trouble getting them. They were just in the cupboard over at the kitchen."
Wendy and Derrane giggled, much to Georgia's confusion. "Did I say something wrong? And why, Abigail! I just saw your mother walking home from the Ladies' Aids Meeting. She looks paler than usual, doesn't she?"
"Is that so?" mused Abigail, recalling how her mother looked like. "I did not notice. But, oh, what should I do? How can I survive being locked up at home while you all go and have fun without me?"
"We'll save some crumbs for you," Wendy said nonchalantly. "Isn't that your mother, Georgia? I suppose she is back from Ladies' Aids Meeting as well? Ah, I thought so. Why, she looks worried. Georgia, maybe you should-"
"G' morning, girls." Mrs. Hunberg greeted them stiffly.
"Morning, Mother." Georgia smiled, handing a cream puff as she studied the small, shrunken grey face of her mother's. Was there anything different with mother to-day? wondered Georgia. Why, yes! She has gone to the meeting without her scarf! It is no wonder she is grey! It must've been a cold morning over the harbour.
"Good morning, Mrs. Hunberg." echoed the others gaily, even Abigail, who liked Mrs. Hunberg, and sometimes found herself wishing that Mrs. Hunberg was her father instead.
Mrs. Hunberg stared at Abigail in surprise, and Abigail stared back, surprised that Mrs. Hunberg was surprised. "Why, Abigail! Your mother told me you were told not to go wandering around very far!"
"White Shore is not far." replied Abigail. Then she realised she had been impertinent to Mrs. Hunberg and hung her head in shame. Oh, why couldn't she keep her sharp mouth shut? "Father said that I am not to go out of Hoofburg, that is all." - Abigail sighed a thousand suppressed sighs - "He might as well say that I am not to go out till I'm twenty. Oh, can you imagine the ultimate boredom that I will have to face, Mrs. Hunberg? I just can't bear to obey Father, but yet, I must, or the devil will eat me."
"Do you still believe in those horse's shit, Abigail?" Wendy asked, smiling challengingly. "Devils do not eat people, they just manipulate them, am I right, Mrs. Hunberg?"
"Why don't you ask the minister, dear? He knows far more about 'horse's shit' than I ever will. And Abigail, darling little girl," - Abigail winced, annoyed to be called 'little girl', but she dared not open her mouth lest something impertinent comes up again - "Please do not think so of your father. He is only protecting you."
"From what?" There! Being impertinent again! Oh, whatever would Mrs. Hunberg think of her now?
But Abigail had nothing to worry about, that poor child, for Mrs. Hunberg wouldn't have even noticed it if Abigail had screamed at her or howled like a dog. She looked at all the young, eager, confused - yes, confused - faces of the sweet little girls, having a clear picture in her mind of what might - could - be in their way in the next three months. Oh, isn't there anything she could do to protect these harmless, sensitive creatures? How things will change! How hearts would break! How tears will fall!
"You will know, my darlings. You will know."
How Abigail struggled to keep herself from being impertinent!
Two days passed since Mr. Rogers' news, which upset Abigail very much. The world had grown calm and dark and quiet, despite the signs of spring lurking around and despite the rage and fury Abigail still kept in her heart for her father, which had grown worse when Mr. Rogers announced that she is only allowed to go out with 'male surveillance' from that very minute.
Male surveillance! Does Father think she, Abigail Rogers, were unable to take care of herself? Oh, Father spoils everything! How will she ever survive through such torture? Male surveillance indeed! Why, Abigail could not think of a single boy who could take care of her any better!
"Oh, stop being such a pussy, Abigail," whined Wendy, whirling in front of the mirror attached to Georgia's cupboard, smiling satisfyingly at the girl she saw in there. The girls were in White Shore, about to go for a walk with 'male surveillance', which were to meet them at Windy Lake for a picnic. "It will be such fun to go there with the boys! There will be truckloads of things to do!"
"And truckloads of people to flirt with," added Derrane naughtily, watching with triumph as Wendy turned boot-red. "Like Robert Carlo, for example."
Wendy glared furiously. She had met Robert Carlo, a young man of seventeen, at Oliver Kirk's dance last year, and had talked of nothing else. That had rather annoyed both Derrane and Abigail, for they weren't allowed to go, as they weren't fifteen then. Poor jealous little darlings, Wendy would say to herself.
"Will you hurry up, Wendy?" Abigail's face showed what the waiting meant to her. "Don't bother with putting roses in your hair now, dearest. We are going for a picnic, not for a dance party." She said it with such 'sting' that Wendy felt hurt and pinned the roses to her hair stiffly. So little Abigail doesn't like the roses? Then she shall put them on! There now! That will show Abigail that Wendy Trent could not be manipulated by anyone!
Abigail, oblivious to the wound she had caused in Wendy's sensitive heart, looked around smugly. Oh, must the boys tag along? She didn't like walking with boys! They are such bores that she was sure she would fall asleep as soon as she stepped out of White Shore into their company! And to make things worse, Greg Water was going to be there too!
The girls hadn't much affection for Greg West, who was fourteen, and played all the tricks and pranks existing on unsuspecting people. Why, just last Saturday he had put a rubber snake in Mr. Johnson's cart, and had given him a heart attack! They learned that Mrs. West gave Greg a good spanking, which was said to be so hard that it was heard from miles away!
Whatever will he do at the picnic now?
But there was really nothing to worry about, for Mrs. West did give Greg a good and hard spanking. Greg felt he wouldn't be up to any tricks again in a hurry! Abigail kept a watchful eye on him as they arrived at Windy Lake with their picnic baskets - so watchful that Greg felt rather timid and self-conscious under her gaze.
Not until she and Derrane had settled near the water with apple pies each did she put her mind to rest, for Greg was nowhere to be seen. If that is a good or a bad sign, Abigail didn't know. But she forgot all about him as the beauty of the lake and the whirling wind wrapped her in their reverie.
Wendy had gone straight to Robert Carlo, and they sat on a broken log with their backs to the rest. Wendy felt herself blush every time Robert Carlo laid his eyes on her, and worried about her roses. Oh, suppose it falls out? How humiliating! Suppose Robert thought it was ugly! Suppose it did not compliment her rosy cheeks, as she had thought so back in Georgia's room! This made her quite distant, and if Robert had been annoyed, he showed no signs of it.
"When I grow up, Derrane," sighed Abigail softly, as she wrapped her arms around her knees and glanced at her chum, "I am going to have my house right here. At this very spot we're sitting on. I shall have loads of Chinese lanterns, … white ones of course. You know I hate red lanterns, Derrane. I always think that they were bleached with blood. I saw one in town ages ago, and it was bee-you-tee-ful! How it glowed in the dark! I asked Father for it, but he wouldn't let me have it because he says I will not have anywhere to put it. I do not see why that would be much of a problem. Why, our house is packed with vases and flowers that I can see nothing else, and Mother still buys more!"
"I do not understand what you see in Chinese lanterns, Abigail." Derrane shook her head. "Why, I would rather have candles all around my house. Just imagine the romantic atmosphere it'll produce! And Mrs. Hunberg said she saw a scented candle in town days ago, and I'm dying to have it! My birthday is coming up very soon, you know…"
Abigail, not noticing the meaningful glance that Derrane paid her, frowned. "But it will be so much work to lit all the candles up and blow them off again!"
"Well, at least it is cheaper than having to buy oil lamps for lanterns every week!"
"But lanterns spread far more light than candles ever can! At least I won't be the one falling over her own ankles in the dark!"
Derrane ignored her friend's retort and gazed around with narrowed eyes. "Why Abigail! Tell me if that is really Fillan West or not! Do you see him? Georgia is with him. … Why, whatever is wrong with your eyes, Abigail? How could you possibly not see Georgia's orange taffeta?"
"Why, I didn't even know Georgia had an orange taffeta!" asked Abigail. "Oh! I see them! My, my. It is Fillan West, isn't it? Patrick used to say he was just as naughty as Greg ever was. I wouldn't doubt that. I will never forget the day Fillan called me 'fatty'! Would you suppose it runs in the West's family? I did not know he was around at this time."
"Neither did I," said Derrane. "I heard he will be going to college soon. No wonder Georgia is brimming with pride! Imagine walking with a future BA!"
"Why, you're walking with a future BA yourself, Derrane, and you're not 'brimming with pride', I've noticed."
"A future BA? Why Abigail! You don't mean to tell me that you wish to go to college too! That is so unexpected!"
"Patrick refused to go and Father was disappointed with him," said the offended damsel in a hoarse whisper. "So I decided that I will be the one to go. Oh, don't look at me so, Derrane! I'm not that stupid!"
"I didn't mean it that way, dearest!" wailed frantic Derrane. "But oh, whatever shall I do when you go? You will go to big cities and forget all about me, and Georgia and Wendy! Why, I simply cannot bear that to happen!"
"Derrane," cried Abigail helplessly. She had expected Derrane to make fun of her, but this! Why, who would've thought Derrane would be so protesting? "You know I will never forget you, or Georgia, or Wendy either! And we both know that the time will come sooner or later when we will be set apart."
Derrane searched Abigail's soul in her eyes, and knew Abigail had set her mind on it. There was no use trying to avail her now. "I know… I know, but I never expected it to be so soon! Oh, do not tell me that it will be three more years before it'll happen, Abigail! It doesn't make a difference if it were to be three or ten more years when I know that you will go anyhow!"
"You can come with me."
"Oh, but I don't want to! You remember the vow I made long ago, don't you, Abigail? I vowed I will never leave dear Hoofburg, no matter what. Oh, let's not talk about this anymore, shall we?" Derrane said desperately. She felt the afternoon was rather spoiled now. Abigail might survive without her, but will she, Derrane Frank, survive? How lonesome it would be when her chum isn't around anymore! "Why, look! I think Fillan West is coming over here!"
"Is that so? But why would he?" asked Abigail with fake gaiety. She too, felt disturbed. Oh, why did she bring the subject up in the first place? "I do not think he even remembers us, with all the college glamour about him." Oh! That word again! Derrane would think she was doing it on purpose!
She glanced alarmingly at Derrane and thanked the heavens when she found Derrane too preoccupied with the prospect of Fillan West, future BA, 'coming over' to even realise what has been said.
Fillan, having dropped Georgia over to Alexander McAlester after the enjoyable chat they had shared, walked towards the two young girls with his quick, firm steps, like an important man with a mission. Now, maybe these two girls won't ask him about college, for he had had enough curious folks dropping by and cross-examining him about it that he felt like nailing a notice on his forehead, saying: "I am not going to college until my eighteenth birthday, so please keep your questions or comments to yourself, etc"! Why must people make such a fuss about it? Already he had had two proposals of marriage, from Mr. Wayne and Mr. Clint. How absurd!
My, how Derrane Frank has grown! And she must be pleased to see him, judging by the look on her face. Now, isn't that Patrick Rogers' sister? What was her name again? Abigail? Yes, Abigail. And why the sour expression?
"Hullo Miss Frank. How do you do, Miss Rogers?"
"Hullo." chirped Derrane. Ooh! Fillan West remembered her! And she had always thought he never took notice of little girls like her and Abigail!
"Very well, thank you." greeted Abigail, smiling half-heartedly, which is worse than her not smiling at all. Oh no. Likely Mr. West here will sit down and invade the conversation! Hadn't she said boys were such bores? Not only that, they are such spoilsports too!
"When did you come back from Queens?" asked Derrane.
"About a week ago," replied Fillan, crossing his legs as he sat down. "You didn't know about my coming? That is a surprise. I'll be taking a holiday until July, and then I'll fly off." He glanced at Abigail, who had given up talking and now sat staring at her own reflection in the water. Well, well, thought Fillan haughtily. I have only been gone for four months, and already the Rogers are turning their noses upon me! "What was it that you said, Derrane? … Oh. Why, of course! I would love to spend my holiday with you lovely girls. That is," He paused teasingly. "If Miss Rogers won't mind."
Abigail felt a thrill take over her at being called 'Miss Rogers', but nevertheless the sting still found its way to her heart. Is Mr. West indicating that she, Abigail Rogers, is a snob? Very well! Then a snob she shall be with him!
"I see that Miss Rogers refuses to answer me."
"Your presence or non-presence makes no difference to me."
Derrane's eyes grew wild. Has Abigail any idea to whom she is speaking to? Why, Abigail could've summoned more respect, as Fillan was ages older than they were! And a future BA at that too! Never had Derrane felt so mortified before. She looked at Fillan and sighed in relief at the amused expression on his face. Mercy he wasn't offended!
"I shall take that as a 'yes', Miss Rogers," replied Fillan. What spunk, laughed Fillan to himself. Surely she got it from Patrick Rogers no doubt! "Isn't Patrick going to college? I haven't seen him for a long time."
"No," Abigail replied. "He refuses to go, and Father says there's nothing to do, for Patrick has such a stubborn nature. He says he's happy at being in Hoofburg, and at being a farmer." She looked at Derrane and decided not to mention her plans of going in Patrick's place.
"I see." nodded Fillan, recalling all the adventures he and Patrick Rogers had had in their childhood. Would Patrick remember the time they found a cave and Patrick couldn't crawl in because he was too fat to fit in? "I must go and visit him."
At that moment, Greg came running madly and crashed over the picnic basket. He pulled himself up quickly and waved the newspaper in his hands. "Aye! Aye!" he cried, attracting everyone's attention, even Wendy's. "Germany has declared war upon Mother England!"
"Oh!" echoed the shocked cries.
Fillan stood up and snatched the paper from his brother. That rather shocked Greg, for Fillan never snatches anything! "It's true," confirmed the shaken seventeen-year-old. "It says so here."
"That doesn't concern us, does it?" asked Abigail anxiously. But no one answered her, for they were deep in their own thoughts. The picnic was announced over, and everyone went home with a black cloud over their minds. Abigail trotted home alone by the 'forbidden shortcut', which would have filled the soul of Mr. Rogers with horror if he had known.
"Father!" cried Abigail as she ran into Lunar Cottage. "Is it or is it not true that England is on war against Germany?"
Mr. Rogers looked at her gravely, gripping his cup of tea tightly lest it falls from his shaken hands. So, Abigail has known. "I'm afraid so, little one."
"Oh, but surely England doesn't expect anything from us, does she?" said Abigail, oblivious that Father had just called her 'little one'. "Surely it has nothing to do with us, has it? Oh, I shan't sleep tonight just worrying about this."
"There is nothing to worry about," Father's tone couldn't have been anymore stiffer than it is right now. "Everything will be all right. Now go to your room. I will make sure your mother sends you your tea."
Abigail went to her room with a broken heart. Oh, she had so wanted to know everything, but Father had shooed her away! Surely he thinks her opinions aren't worthy of listening to! How small she felt!
Then she heard Patrick's voice in the kitchen, along with Father and Mother's, and curiosity over-powered her. She crept out of her room quietly and sat at the stairs. Then, she listened.
"I met Fillan West at the bridge today," she heard Patrick say. Good heavens, she is eavesdropping! Oh, Father had said it was wrong to do so! But she wanted to know! She must know! "It was splendid to be seeing him again."
"He has grown into such a good-looking man, hasn't he?" said Mother. "Why, I wouldn't have recognised him if you hadn't screamed his name so loudly, Patrick. Oh dear! How clumsy of me to spill Abigail's tea! Oh, my hands haven't stopped shaking, dearest. It seems to me it will never stop until this war is over."
"My hands aren't shaking, but my heart is." said Patrick.
"We have been alerted days ago," said Father, unfeelingly. "You should've adapted to it by now."
Oh, thought Abigail. So Father had told everyone except her. How dare Father single her out! She had a right to know, hadn't she? How hurt she was! Didn't they love her enough to be truthful and frank to her? Did they think she was too much of a baby to know?
"They will be calling for volunteers tonight, Mother and Father. I am already eighteen, and I have decided to sign up."
Plates and cups crashed in the kitchen. Abigail almost screamed in shock, but she managed to keep composed. Patrick! Volunteering!
"Patrick, no!" she heard Mother scream. "No, no! Not you, darling!"
"Oh, hush Martha! Don't you see our boy is doing his duty? Do not look at me like that, Martha. Patrick will be all right, for I will be there with him."
Mother screamed again.
Abigail stood up and ran to her bedroom, cautious to be absolutely silent. She had heard enough. Father had lied. England did want something from them. She wanted their men, to fight alongside her and protect her. And to think Father had said everything will be all right!
How her world had turned upside down, thought Abigail bitterly. She had never been close to any of her family. Indeed, she felt it was always Father, Mother and Patrick against her. They hadn't any special affection for her, and she hadn't either. But to see them go and get themselves killed! No! That she couldn't bear!
She buried her head into her pillow and sobbed harshly. Even when Mrs. Rogers finally came in with the tea, Abigail didn't stop. Oh! She must stop, or Mother would know she had been eavesdropping! But the tears won't stop falling!
Mrs. Rogers looked at her only daughter and felt her insides crushing. Why, Abigail is crying! So she knows. She knows. Whatever should she, Martha Rogers, do? Abigail had never cried in front of her before. Abigail had never asked her for comfort, for advice, or guidance either. Mrs. Rogers hadn't any experience!
She set the tea down grimly, and said: "Abigail, stop crying and eat your tea before it gets cold." She felt she had been sensible, but oh, if she knew how her seemingly harsh and insensitive words stabbed Abigail's heart!
Oh, doesn't Mother care for her at all? Abigail cried miserably. Won't Mother comfort her? Oh, won't she even hug her? Abigail could not think of the last time Mother had wrapped her arms around her. It had been so long ago. How she had grown apart from her mother! "Let me cry, Mother. Just let me cry!"
Mrs. Rogers, highly exasperated, went out of the room. Why must all these happen? Why, her beloved husband and son were going to war, and her only daughter might as well have been a stranger! How Abigail has grown up to be so different! Why, Mrs. Rogers felt she knew nothing about her daughter!
Abigail sobbed harder. Oh, she was facing such a trauma and Mother had just walked out like that! She knew Father and Mother weren't affectionate people, but considering the circumstances, couldn't Mother have at least said something nice? 'Stop crying and eat your tea before it gets cold' indeed!
There weren't any solemner girls in Hoofburg than Abigail, Derrane, Wendy and Georgia. How today had stolen yesterday's laughter! How yesterday was bright and cheery! How today seemed so dark and lonely!
Mr. Rogers and Patrick Rogers had signed up a few nights ago, much to Mrs. Rogers' grief. Mr. Frank had signed up as well, and Derrane couldn't have been more bitter. She loved her father dearly. Oh, must he go? Mr. Trent wasn't fit, and Wendy was grateful to the Mighty Power. She prayed that her father would go on being unfit, much to the horror of the other girls. Mrs. Trent had died when Wendy was young, and she certainly couldn't afford to lose her father now. Mr. Hunberg was going too, despite his age. How glad Georgia was that James, the baby of the family, wasn't old enough to do so. She had stayed up all night wishing that James will never grow old enough to be pulled into the army. How sad Mother's eyes had been when Father announced his going! Georgia had always thought her mother the bravest of all mothers, but oh, hadn't she caught Mother crying this very morning? Poor Mother. If only she, Georgia, was a boy and eighteen! Surely she could've gone in Father's place, couldn't she?
It broke Mrs. Hunberg's heart to see the girls without their laughter, their smiles and their cheerfulness. This is all so sudden to them. How the golden days of the happy yesteryears had disappeared! How many more fragile heart will break, wondered Mrs. Hunberg sadly. How much more hurt will the war cause to the incurable wounds in their hearts?
One fine April evening, Abigail found Patrick waiting for her at the doorsteps.
"Why, hullo Patrick."
"Hullo dear Abigail." Oh! Patrick had called her 'dear Abigail'! What on earth has come over him? He had never called her dear anything before! She had always hated Patrick because he called her 'hippopotamus', and Patrick had always ignored her. "What would a walk to Windy Lake seem to you?" Now he's asking her to go for a walk! Dear brother Patrick! Why hadn't he treated her like this years ago, when she had needed affection the most? Why now, when things are going kaput?
"It would be lovely, Patrick."
They went, walking in total silence, both awkward and unknowing of what to say. Spring had finally arrived, apparently at the wrong time. Abigail's heart ached whenever she looked at the beauty around her. Oh, why must the world seem so beautiful when horrible things are happening on it? She was sure she wouldn't have minded it that much if it were winter, because winters are depressing and it would be just the right season for wars.
They settled themselves on the log which Wendy and Robert had previously sat on. The air was warm, and the lake was shimmering with glory, like diamonds floating on its surface. And for a few moments, Abigail actually felt happy. She glanced at Patrick, about to say something of the fine weather but stopped at the stony gaze he held on her. "Patrick?"
"Do you know I will be going to-morrow?"
Does she know?! How could she not know? It pursued and haunted her day and night! Patrick, seeing the disgruntled look on his 'little' sister's face, smiled bitterly. "Do not you grieve over it, Abigail. You know Father and I are doing the right thing."
"I know," cried Abigail passionately. "But why must you do it? There are so many other boys in the world, Patrick. Why must you go?"
"Why, you mean to say that you, who hated me so, want me to stay?"
"I am serious, Patrick. You may not be the best brother in the world, but that does not mean I want you to go give your life over to the Germans!" said Abigail hotly. Oh, so Patrick thinks this is funny?
"I do not mean it that way," argued Patrick. "Do you want me to stay here in Hoofburg and be a coward? Abigail, innocent people are dying out there. People! Sweet little girls like you. What would you feel if you were one of them, and one lad in Hoofburg had refused to help just because he was too much of a coward to go?"
"I do not care. They are not the ones sacrificing their beloved!"
"Yes, but they are the ones watching their beloved get shot down."
Abigail bit her lower lip in frustration. "Do not argue with me, Patrick!" she cried helplessly. "Let me believe what I want to believe! Do not suffocate me with facts!" Hot strung tears rolled down her cheeks. No! She mustn't cry in front of Patrick! Why, what would Patrick think of his 'hippopotamus' sister crying in front of him?
Patrick looked down at his muddy boots. He hadn't any notion to make Abigail cry, for he has done that so many times before with his pranks and tricks, but Abigail mustn't go on believing her childish perspective, through which she sees life as a candy factory, where everything is sweet and wonderful. She must face the hard truths of life. She must! "Come into my arms, Abigail."
Abigail accepted Patrick's first offer of affection eagerly. She felt Patrick squeeze her with a brotherly comrade and shivered at the delight of hugging which she had lost long ago. "The world is harsh on you, Abigail." murmured Patrick softly. "It shouldn't, but it is. And it will be harsher in the coming years. Don't you think it is time we prepare ourselves for it? … There is no use in shaking your head like that, dear sister, when you know deep in your heart that it is true. Well, I shall go to-morrow. I have asked Fillan West to look after you, and you need not worry about Father. I will take care of him, even though he keeps insisting it the other way round!"
"Aren't you scared, Patrick?" asked Abigail quietly, looking up with sad, small dark eyes.
"I am, Abigail. But that is nothing compared to the fear of people who are being attacked upon. Yes, I will be risking my life, but it will be worth it. It will be worth every drop of my blood that falls to the ground." Patrick paused and looked at Abigail. "You look so different with your sad eyes, Abigail, which used to shine so brightly, and your tense lips, which used to unleash such laughter."
"I don't think I am able to laugh again, Patrick."
"Don't say such things, Abigail. You do not know how much the world needs your laughter. How horrible the world would be if no single laughter ever escaped a person's lips! The war will come to an end, dearest, and it won't be long till then."
"True, but oh, all the horrible things that would happen in the meantime! I do not care what you say, Patrick, I still think it is heartless of Father and you to be leaving Mother and I!"
"It might have been worse, Abigail," said Patrick solemnly, like a minister reading his sermons. "You might have to push me to go."
Push Patrick to go fight the Germans! Why, Abigail couldn't imagine herself doing such a thing! But yet, she understood the message. Oh, Patrick! Dear brave Patrick! How the world craves for people like him!
"You make me so proud, Patrick."
"I know, hippopotamus. I know."
They were all at the train station. The Hunburgs, the Trents, the Franks, and the Rogers. Several other families were around with one and more young men in khaki's, some who stood stonily, staring at the empty railway and some who struggled to look brave, and yet had bitter tears rolling down their cheeks. Oh, how Abigail understood their feelings! How she wished she could join the club and wail like a baby! But she couldn't! She had made a vow, along with the other girls, that they would not - no matter what happens - let a droplet of water drop from their eyes for the world to see. No. They will be brave, and strong, and cheerful. They will not let their fathers and brothers think they were leaving such a sad and hopeless family behind.
They waited for the train anxiously, wishing at the same time that it wouldn't come. The atmosphere was bleak, and no laughter was ever heard. Even Patrick, who had preached about laughter to Abigail the previous day, found his attempted laughs rather flat and emotion-less.
There! The train is choo-chooing it's way here!
Abigail stood frozen as everything around here buzzed. Mrs. Hunberg stared at her husband with wistful eyes, and it was clear that Mr. Hunberg was just as heartbroken to leave his wife. Mr. Trent talked to Mr. Frank. Derrane was holding on to her father's hand as if her life depended on it, to which Derrane felt it did! Wendy and Georgia stood together, amidst the crowd and talked in hushed whispers and choked voices. Mrs. Rogers was hugging Mr. Rogers, and Abigail felt rather puzzled at the embarrassed look on his face. Mr. Frank didn't look so when Mrs. Frank kissed him, so why should Father?
"Aren't you going to say goodbye to me, Hippopotamus?"
Abigail turned around and smiled bitter-sweetly. She didn't know whether she should slap Patrick or kiss him. How on earth could he take everything so lightly? And it is he who is going! "Why?" she replied nonchalantly, fearing her shaky voice would reveal her. "I will be seeing you again, won't I?"
Patrick stared at her silently. Then he nodded. "Why, yes - of course." He smiled the loving smile shared among all the brothers in the world and bent his head as Abigail stood on her toes to give him a kiss. This was the first time Abigail had ever kissed him - and it could be the last.
The train gave it's final warning, and a grumpy fat man yelled: "All aboard!". Abigail glared at him, and found satisfaction in it although he hadn't seen it. Mr. Rogers and Patrick jumped aboard, and waved wildly as the train moved away. Abigail smiled as if she had never smiled before, and looked at her father and brother with all the love of daughters and sisters of the yesteryears and the future.
But as the train rounded the curve, her smile vanished.
"Goodbye, Patrick."
