Farmerettes by Gisela Sherman

attack again.”
    Helene patted Peggy’s arm.
    When the lunch bell rang, Jean headed for the farmhouse, Dickens close behind. The girls finished their rows and hurried to the shaded tables in the barnyard. Even there it was hot, so they splashed water from the pump over their hair and blouses.
    As they sat down, Stella bragged, “My dad helped blow up a Nazi submarine last week.”
    Helene watched Isabel weave unsteadily across the grass and collapse onto the bench across from her. The other girls were rosy with sunburn, but the flush on Isabel’s face looked different. Drops of perspiration beaded her forehead as she absently unpacked her lunch.
    â€œWhat does your father do in the war?” Stella asked Kate at a volume meant for everyone.
    â€œArmy. He took part in both battles of El Alamein,” Kate answered proudly.
    â€œAnd you?” Stella nodded at the next girl.
    Lucy shrugged. “He’s too old to serve, but he volunteered for the home guard. He does his duty.”
    Helene chewed nervously hoping Stella would ignore her, as usual.
    â€œHow about your family, Isabel?” Stella asked.
    Isabel looked dazed. “Um. My Billy is training in England. Ummm. Dad’s a dentist,” she murmured.
    Helene wondered why no one seemed to notice how vague Isabel sounded.
    â€œSo your dad’s making a profit from the war,” Stella shot at her.
    Isabel looked confused. “He repairs teeth so men can enlist.”
    Helene wanted to make sure Isabel was all right, but she couldn’t risk drawing attention to herself. She was glad when Peggy moved toward Isabel and spoke quietly. Stella quickly singled Peggy out. “Your dad isn’t away fighting.”
    Peggy looked Stella up and down. “No. He works for the ministry of war—to keep all of your fathers supplied with food and weapons.”
    Helene admired her friend. No one could tell from her light tone how much tension that had caused in her home.
    Isabel got up, staggered from the table to the cool grass under the tree, and lay down. Something was wrong. Helene hurried to her side and felt her forehead. Clammy.
    â€œNo sneaking away, Helene. What about your family?” Stella’s machine-gun voice zeroed in on her.
    Helene’s mouth opened like a goldfish, but nothing came out. Answers raced around her brain, tripping over each other. How could she admit she didn’t know where her father was? That he had abandoned his family?
    An icy voice rescued her. Binxie. “I hardly think we honor our families and their sacrifices by bragging like this.”
    Shamed into silence, Stella concentrated on her dessert, while Binxie brought a cup of cold water to Isabel. “Drink this,” she said gently.
    Helene helped Isabel sit up to take a few slow sips. “You shouldn’t work this afternoon,” she ventured.
    â€œDefinitely not,” Binxie agreed.
    Isabel took another sip. “Let me rest a minute. I’ll be fine.”
    Binxie and Helene gazed at each other doubtfully, but Isabel lay down again and turned her back to them. They stayed beside her, even when some girls got up to toss a ball around. Peggy brought their lunches over and joined them.
    Too soon, Jean returned. The girls quickly used the bathroom, washed up at the pump, and trooped back to work.
    The midafternoon sun blazed. Helene wished she was as strong as Peggy, leading the girls in a merry medley of songs. But she loved the green fields, the heady smell of earth and leaves, the bright blue sky above. Was there any place on earth this wonderful?
    She hoped it wasn’t this hot at home. Maybe a breeze from Lake Ontario was cooling Hamilton down a bit. Her brothers wouldn’t care, swimming in the bay, playing cowboys or army with their shirts off. But her mother worked in the factory, then cooked, and did other people’s laundry. Helene worked faster, trying to hoe away the guilt.
    â€œIsabel!”