No Small Victory (12 page)

Then Mum and Dad walked into the room—Mum in her housecoat and Dad in his pyjamas still. Mum lit a match, tipped up the shade on the coal-oil lamp, and lighting the wick, turned it up. The tree was more visible now; the light cast a glow on the silver tinsel and red bows she and Mum had put all over it.

But were there no presents? They must be hidden underneath!

But the old brown stocking she'd draped on the couch last night had something in it! A great big McIntosh apple was plugging the top. She pulled it out and dumped the rest on the couch.

“Be careful!” said Dad. “You don't want to break anything.”

Bonnie sorted through her stocking gifts quickly. Three apples—saved, no doubt, from their Massassaga crop—and a few hard horehound candies. Two of the apples were partly shrivelled. Next, Bonnie found two new pencils and a brand-new box of crayons. She opened the lid and sniffed in the fresh smell.

“Look!” said Dad. “There's a parcel sitting right between the branches!”

Bonnie grabbed the small parcel. It had her name on it, but it was too soft to be a book. She pulled off the paper. It was a new scarf and a pair of mitts in striped shades of yellow, blue, and green.

“I used up all my leftover pieces,” said Mum proudly. “You won't get those mixed up with anyone else's at school.”

“That's for sure,” said Bonnie. She smiled bravely, trying hard to look thrilled. No one would know that Mum hadn't worked all these colours into them on purpose. The mitts matched exactly. “Great colours, Mum. I wish I could knit like you.”

“You'll learn—one of these days,” said Mum with a grin.

Then Bonnie picked a weird looking package from between thick branches near the bottom of the tree. “
To Amy
from Thomas
,” Bonnie read, and she passed the gift to Mum.

“Thomas, you shouldn't have,” Mum protested. “You know I have no money to buy you anything.”

“I know,” said Dad. “Don't worry about it. I don't need anything.”

Mum laughed a little as she looked at Dad's wrapping paper. It was old, yellowed newspaper tied together with binder twine. But Bonnie could tell she was pleased. Finally, the store box appeared and Mum opened it and drew out a pair of shiny brown leather shoes. She pulled them out and put her hand down inside one of them.

Mum sighed. “They're beautiful, Thomas.” Then she took off her knitted slippers and, sure enough, the shoes fit perfectly.

“You've needed those for a long time,” said Dad. “You shouldn't have had to put up with those shoes with holes in them. I used a bit of the cream money to get them. I just wish I could have gotten you a pair of stockings to go with them—those sheer ones with the seams down the back.”

Bonnie wished now that she'd kept back some of that quarter to buy Christmas presents, but she'd spent five cents on one more trip to the store at noon hour. The rest she'd spent on two four-cent stamps, as well as two scribblers and one new pencil. The idea of writing her own book had really taken hold of her imagination, and she'd needed the supplies to get started.

“Well, I do have one surprise for you,” said Mum. “I've been saving sugar. I'm going to make some cocoa fudge!”

“Maybe I could learn how to make fudge,” said Bonnie. “Do you have a recipe?”

“Somewhere. But mostly, I just make it by guess and by golly! No, I'll make it, Bonnie. We don't have any sugar to waste.”

Well, that would sweeten up the day a little! Mum's fudge was the best.

It was rare to see both her parents look happy. Bonnie was determined not to spoil it by complaining because she hadn't received even one book. But the house was so quiet—compared to all the other Christmases at the Browns'. She knew they'd all be laughing and joking and waiting for the turkey that would be roasting in the big oven.

She could almost smell it.

Late that afternoon, Bonnie said, “Guess I'll take Boots to play in the field.”

“Keep near the barn buildings in the sheltered areas,” said her mother. “That snow is not done blowing yet. You don't want to get lost.”

“I can't get lost in sight of house,” said Bonnie. “Just leave a light in the window.”

“Don't be crazy, child. You aren't staying out till dark.”

Bonnie laughed as she and Boots ploughed into the deep snow and tracked out tunnel-like pathways in the big field in front of their house. Then a gust of wind would come up and nearly close them in. Still it was fun.

Finally, though, she sat down in a sheltered tunnel and hugged Boots around his golden collar.

“You're a great friend, Boots,” Bonnie said aloud, “but now we must go back before Mum gets worrying.”

Bonnie led the way through the sheltered barnyard but Boots whimpered uneasily and ran ahead as they came near the white picket fence around the house. When Bonnie reached the gate, she stopped in her tracks.

There were drops of blood on the snow! She looked back and saw a whole trail of blood leading from the barn toward the house.

Then Bonnie looked ahead. The blood-spattered trail went along through the open gate. That was strange. No one ever left that gate open. Dad was very strict about that. He didn't want farm animals getting into the dooryard.

As she pulled the gate shut, she saw more blood spots, leading right up to the front door. Dad must have caught something at last! And he'd killed it for supper. Maybe it was a wild turkey! They'd have a turkey, after all, for Christmas. Wasn't Dad the smartest! And he'd kept it all a secret.

She ran to the house. Instead of going in through the back shed, she followed the trail of blood right to the front door. If the butchered hen or rabbit could go in this way, so would she. Now, what would she find cooking? What would the surprise supper be?

Smiling, she flung back the door and stepped into the dining room—then stopped and stared.

Her father was lying on the floor, groaning. Blood oozed out of his overalls near the top of his left leg. The horrible smell of barn manure and human blood filled the room.

Mum was in the corner, turning the bell ringer round and round in an effort to make the phone work.

But just yesterday the phone had been dead.

Her father moaned again and Bonnie stared down. Like her father, she could not stand the sight of blood. She drew in her breath and looked over at her mother.

At last, her mother said, “Operator, this is an emergency! Please connect me to Dr. Wright!”

Bonnie sighed with relief. Mum had gotten through to the operator, but would she get the doctor? And who would get through the snowbanks to help?

Finally, Mum said, “It's an emergency, Doctor. My husband's been bitten by a sow. I can't get the bleeding to stop.” Then she paused. “No, it's not excessive, but it's still flowing.”

Bonnie slipped off her boots and rushed to the couch. She grabbed a cushion and, holding up her father's head, slid it under. Mum was still talking but Bonnie wasn't listening. She could only hear her father's low moans.

“Thanks…,” Dad mumbled. Bonnie knelt beside him now. She forced herself to look down at the towel under his leg. The red spot was spreading out. Bonnie shivered.

Then Mum knelt beside them. “Dr. Wright's on his way. A farmer's bringing him.”

“I doubt…if a sleigh can…” said Dad.

“Yes, he will get through. We'll trust God to answer our prayers,” said Mum.

Mum got another clean towel and held it tightly over the wound. “Bonnie! Fill the big pan with water. Put it on the front of the stove. And the teakettle, too.”

Bonnie hurried to follow her mother's orders.

“Now, Bonnie, take the oilcloth off the table. Can you get the extra table leaves to make the table long?”

Bonnie had to struggle to pull the table apart in order to set the leaves in place. She tried to be quick, but the leaves were heavy and awkward. At last, she got the final leaf in place and pushed against one end of the table. “They're all together,” she panted. “But I can't get them to fit tight.”

“That's all right. Later, we'll push them fast together. Now, I want you to fill the sink with hot water from the reservoir and pour some Lysol into it. Then, wash down the table with the Lysol water. Make sure you cover every inch. And wash your hands.”

“Uggghhh,” Dad was groaning more now. “I'd like to lie on the couch.”

“No,” said Mum. “Dr. Wright said you are to stay where you are. You must stay still. He told me to keep this cloth firmly on the wound to stop the bleeding.”

“Is it working?” asked Bonnie as she pushed the Lysol-drenched cloth across the table.

“Look, it's easing up.” But Bonnie couldn't stand to look at her father anymore.

When Bonnie had finished with the table, her mother said, “Take off your dad's boots, but do it gently—start with his good leg.”

“Bonnie…be careful,” Dad groaned.

“Oh, Dad, I will. I promise. I'll be so careful.” Bonnie's heart was beating very fast. She could hardly stand the smell of the blood. Her father's face was very pale now, and he groaned when Bonnie pulled the boot and sock off his bad leg.

Now all they could do was wait.

Bonnie got up and went to the window. How much longer would it take before the doctor showed? It was taking forever. Even the clock was moving slowly.

It was now five o'clock—suppertime in the winter. It had grown almost dark. Only the fire from the kitchen stove illuminated the room faintly.

“We're going to need stronger light when the doctor comes,” said her mother. “Light two of the coal-oil lamps. Make sure the glass shade is clean and the wick trimmed straight across so that it'll give a good light. Be careful and don't hurry. Put one on top of the buffet and one by the pantry window.” Bonnie lit a candle first to light her way to the shelf of lamps.

She had just finished when Boots started to bark.

“Let them in,” said Mum.

Bonnie hurried out onto the verandah, and there was Dr. Wright climbing off the sleigh with his black bag. A tall, thick-set man whom she'd not seen before was tying his horses to the gate post.

The doctor rushed past her and into the house. Bonnie waited for the driver and followed him inside.

Dr. Wright had knelt beside her father and was examining his leg. “Clancy,” he said, “we'll have to put him on the table. Nasty cuts—all three of them. He needs quite a few stitches. You did well, Mrs. Brown. You stopped the bleeding and got the table ready. Lots of boiled water, too, I trust.”

“Uhhh,” said Dad, when the doctor and his friend lifted him up and onto the table. “UHHHHH! Hurtin' terrible, Doc.”

The doctor took a pair of scissors from his bag and cut the pant leg back. “Might just as well cut the pant leg clean around,” said Mum. “I can sew it back on again.”

Dad was still moaning.

“I'll soon stop your pain,” said the doctor. “I've brought a little anaesthesia. Here, Mrs. Brown, I'm going to let you help me. But first we must both wash our hands in this disinfectant. Bring me a pan of water.” Mum hurried back with the water and the doctor poured a little liquid from another bottle from his bag. “A little carbolic acid does the trick.”

“Do you need me, Doc?” asked the farmer. Bonnie stared at the big man and saw he was looking as sickly as she felt.

“Not till I'm ready to go home.”

“I can look in on the cows,” he said.

“The two…on the west end…aren't milked yet,” said Dad.

“I'll see to it,” said the man, and he was gone.

“Now, Thomas,” said Dr. Wright, who pulled out another bottle and a piece of fresh cloth, “just a whiff of this will put you to sleep and you won't feel a thing till I've got you all sewed up. Then I'll leave some pills to take away the pain when you wake up.”

Crouched on the bottom step of the back stairs, Bonnie stared in silence, as the doctor gave Mum a face mask and put on one himself. He tipped a few drops from the bottle onto the cloth, which he'd laid over Dad's nose.

“You may need to do this for me before I finish,” he said. Mum nodded.

Then a sickening smell filled the room. Bonnie gagged and backed up the stairs. She had to get away, but she left the door open in case Mum called her.

Bonnie sat shivering on the stool by her bed. After what seemed like a very long time, she heard the farmer's voice downstairs.

Then she heard the doctor's voice at the bottom of the stairs. “His bed's the place for him for the next few days. Glad you're here to help me, Clancy.”

Bonnie darted into Mum and Dad's room and pulled back the sheets so that they could lay Dad down. “Good girl,” said Mum, looking at the ready bed before ushering the men in.

The men came out quickly and headed down the stairs again with Mum behind, saying, “I feel awful to have brought you out on Christmas Day. And will you please start an account for us? I'm so sorry, but we don't have the money right now to pay you.”