“I miss my family too,” Edie said. “But working for your family is a good opportunity.”
Maud had a hard time imagining working for Mrs. Montgomery as an opportunity, but she also knew that for some women it was the only option.
“My mother works as a maid for the wife of a North West Mounted Police officer,” Edie went on. “That’s how I got this position.”
She had overheard Mamma talking to Mrs. McTaggart about how grateful she was that the “half-breed” had decided to come with them so that she didn’t have to train someone else. Maud paused. Was it Edie they were talking about? Perhaps that was why she was so quiet?
One of the women across the river laughed.
If it was Edie they had been speaking about, perhaps she would know more about the women across the river. “Do you know what language those Indian women are speaking across the river?” Maud asked.
“They’re speaking Cree. In their language they call themselves Nehiyawak, meaning ‘the People.’?” She moved over a bit and picked from another bush.
“It is quite beautiful.”
“Yes.” She picked up another hazelnut and stared at it for a long time. “My mother speaks Cree with the local women when they bring items to trade.”
“Do you speak it?” Maud said. “I always thought it would be wonderful to speak another language. We learned Latin in school, but I think French would be wonderful. I heard some men speaking it in Montreal and I wished to know what they were saying.”
Edie put the hazelnut in her basket and sat down sideways in the grass, her skirt covering her knees and ankles. “Actually…I speak a language that blends Cree and French, called Michif.”
“How very exotic,” Maud said, placing her basket down and getting comfortable.
Edie laughed. “I don’t know if it is exotic, but it is the language of the Métis.”
Maud returned her gaze to the river and listened to the sound of the wind through the poplar trees. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine herself back on the island. “I love this,” she said after they had picked more hazelnuts. “The river. The trees. Maybe I’ll write a poem about it and send it home to Pensie.”
“It is beautiful,” Edie said. “Do you know that this river, the Saskatchewan, has a name that is Cree in origin? Perhaps you can use it in your poem.”
Maud smiled. She knew there was a reason she liked Edie. “I adore hearing about the history of a place. Please tell me its spirit.”
Edie smiled. “The Cree call this river Kisiskatchewani Sipi, which loosely translates to ‘swift-flowing river.’?”
Maud gazed out over the river. “I wonder…my teacher, Miss Gordon, told us one day while we were studying the history of Prince Edward Island that the Indians who live there, the Mi’kmaq, called it Abegweit, which means ‘cradle on the waves.’ Do you think it is connected somehow? Isn’t that wonderful to imagine?”
“Yes.” Edie smiled.
Maud smiled back. They picked hazelnuts silently for a while. It was nice being with someone who had such a pleasant disposition, unlike her stepmother. “Edie, may I ask…why do you think working for my stepmother is a good opportunity?” She didn’t add anything about putting up with her sour nature. No opportunity could be worth that.
“One of the reasons I agreed to come to Prince Albert is because the high school allows Métis to attend. My sister only made it to sixth grade, but I want to be a teacher.”
“Me too,” Maud said.
“Do you!” Edie’s brown eyes brightened. “There are convent schools out East that are willing to take Métis women. Being a teacher is one of the few professions, besides being a maid, that is acceptable.”
It seemed she and Edie had more in common than Maud realized.
“Besides, with Mrs. Montgomery expecting, she’ll need my help and possibly give a good recommendation to the convent school about how good I am with children.”
Maud felt a creepy-crawly tickle down the back of her neck. “What do you mean ‘expecting’?”
“Oh no!” Edie dropped her pail, hazelnuts scattering across the grass. “I didn’t realize that Mrs. Montgomery hadn’t told you. I know that it is a delicate matter, but I thought…” She bit her bottom lip. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Please, don’t tell her I told you.”
Mrs. Montgomery. Pregnant.
“Why wouldn’t Father tell me?” Maud leaned her head against a tree. “I know it isn’t proper to discuss such things, but if I am going to have another brother or sister, I should know.”
Edie stepped timidly toward her. “I only know because I help Mrs. Montgomery with her maternity corset. She started wearing it this week. But, if she finds out I told you, she might send me back to Battleford.”
“Why didn’t she want me to know?” Maud said. “It doesn’t make sense. I am thrilled!” And Maud realized that despite how she’d found out, she was excited to have the opportunity to be a big sister again.
“I don’t know,” Edie said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Montgomery had plans for you.”
Plans? What kind of plans? Didn’t they know that she had plans of her own?
Maud closed her eyes. People talk of stillness, but for Maud the wind, the grass, the river, the trees were in motion.
After a while, Maud opened her eyes and promised Edie she would keep this to herself. Across the river, the Cree women and children still diligently worked. Maud would not let on that she knew Mrs. Montgomery’s secret. In time her stepmother would confide in her. She would work with Mrs. Montgomery, show her she was dependable, a daughter who would help her family with whatever they needed no matter the sacrifice.
—
The following day, when Maud entered the dining room, Grandpa, Father, her stepmother, and Katie had already started eating breakfast. Maud tried to not think about Grandpa leaving at the end of the week. She had become quite fond of having him around; he was often a shield between her and her stepmother. This was never more apparent than that morning.
“Good morning,” she smiled at everyone.
“Is it?” Mamma—no, Mrs. Montgomery—said as Maud sat down, trying to see if the corset betrayed her stepmother’s secret. It didn’t. “Practically afternoon, I think.”
Maud toyed with her ring and checked the grandfather clock at the far end of the parlor. It was not yet 8 a.m.
“Maud is probably still tired from our travels, Mary Ann,” Grandpa said, wiping his mouth. “We don’t want her to be ill because she’s so worn out. Remember how Agnes McKenzie traveled from Halifax, caught a chill, and died?”
Father laughed. “I don’t see that happening with Maudie—Maud. She has a strong constitution.”
“She’s been here over a week,” Mrs. Montgomery said.