Chapter 15 - One Last Spring

Gwen’s fingers were numb with cold, and she could barely keep the candle upright as she hurried up the stairs to her bedroom. Placing the candle on the chest of drawers, she moved closer to the fireplace. The glowing embers were only strong enough to take the edge off the chill in the room, but Gwen prodded them with the poker, and a few small flames rose to lick the last of the coal. She held her hands out to warm them and stared at the package on the floor beside her. What would Lewis want to give her?

She took a blanket off her bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then, kneeling down in front of the small fire, she started pulling at the string around the parcel. Her hands had gone from numb to shaking, but she persevered, and within a few moments she had it untied. She opened the brown paper and gasped. Sitting on her knee was a perfect wild rose made entirely of iron. The stem was about ten inches long and a quarter-inch wide. Four leaves and multiple thorns had been formed along the stem, culminating with an exquisite rose blossom at the top.

Gwen searched the brown paper for a note, but there was none. Carefully she lifted the rose and turned it between her fingers, examining it from every angle. It was beautiful. The attention to detail took her breath away. There were lines in the leaves and ripples in the petals. The fact that the stem was not perfectly straight made it all the more realistic. She’d never seen anything like it, and she could only imagine how long it had taken to make something so intricate.

Why would Lewis give her a gift like this when he’d only sent her one letter in the five months she’d been gone? It made no sense. She placed her hand on her stomach. The warm feeling she’d experienced walking home with Lewis after the St. John’s Day dance had returned. Confused, she searched the packaging again, but there was no accompanying note. Without Ed the Post’s account and the fact that only a skilled blacksmith could create something so beautiful, she would not even have known who had sent it.

Slowly she got to her feet and placed the metal rose on her chest of drawers, where she’d be able to see it from her bed. Then she changed into her nightgown and blew out the candle. In her nightly prayer, she expressed particular gratitude for Ed the Post’s return, for the safety of her family and friends in Llanwddyn, and for Lewis’s gift. Then she crawled into bed with a smile on her face; perhaps she hadn’t been completely forgotten after all.

Gwen wrote Lewis another letter, thanking him for his gift. But he never replied. Even when the pass opened two weeks later and Ed the Post was able to make more regular trips to and from the village, she heard nothing. She didn’t understand, and there were times when she actually wondered if the postman had delivered the rose to the wrong person by mistake. Occasionally, however, when she held his gift and studied the intricate work, she could imagine Lewis working on it at the smithy, and on those days, he seemed closer.

As the new school term progressed, Gwen’s teachers began demanding more of their students. With completing homework and studying for examinations always in the forefront of Gwen’s mind, there didn’t seem to be much time for anything else. She’d improved enough in field hockey to play on the school team with Alice, and Rosamond had persuaded her to enter a choral recitation competition with her. Practice sessions for the upcoming school eisteddfod were time-consuming and made her already busy schedule even more challenging.

February brought a warm spell, and much of the snow melted, leaving a sloppy wet mess on the roads. Gwen kept hoping Aunty Jane would send word that Dai was coming to town so she could travel home with him, even if she was only able to stay for a day or two. But the only time she saw the farmer from Llanwddyn was on a Wednesday morning toward the end of February when he’d been on his way to market. With disappointment, Gwen had waved as he’d driven by and had continued on to school, knowing there would be no trip home for her that weekend.

For that reason, she was completely unprepared to find Dai waiting for her at the headmaster’s office only six days later. She’d been summoned there from her geometry class. Her teacher had read the note another student had handed to him and had promptly excused Gwen from class, telling her to take all her books with her. And now, as she stood in the headmaster’s office, carrying her satchel, she felt almost as nervous as Dai looked.

“Please take a seat, Gwen,” the headmaster said.

Gwen dropped into the closest chair but did not relax.

“I assume you know Dai Williams,” the headmaster continued, taking his own seat behind the large desk as Dai sat near Gwen.

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m afraid he’s come bearing some bad news.” The headmaster looked over at Dai. “Would you be good enough to give Gwen the details, Mr. Williams?”

Dai fiddled with the brim of the hat he was holding. “I’m afraid it’s your aunty Jane,” he said.

For a split second, the room seemed to tilt. As it straightened again, Gwen clenched her hands together to stop them from trembling and focused on keeping her breathing even.

When he realized everyone was expecting him to continue, Dai cleared his throat. “She had a fall sometime last night, but no one knew it until Ed the Post showed up at the post office to find no one there. He and Owen checked the house and found her in the kitchen.” Dai looked down as though he couldn’t quite bring himself to meet Gwen’s eyes. “Owen thinks it’s a case of apoplexy.”

“Is she . . . ?” The words wouldn’t come.

Dai shook his head. “She’s still with us, bach, but she hasn’t come ’round yet. Owen had his wife, Mair, come over, and between them, they managed to make your aunt comfortable in her own bed. Ed the Post left straightaway to get the doctor from Llanfyllin, then Owen sent his boy Rowland over to the farm to ask if I’d come into town for you.”

Gwen immediately stood, and the men followed. “I’ll come with you now,” she said.

The headmaster came around from the other side of the desk and put his hand on Gwen’s shoulder. “I’m very sorry, Gwen. We will do all we can to help you with your schooling, but as you may be gone for some time, make sure you gather all your belongings.”

Gwen nodded numbly.

He gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze before releasing it. “Be assured that everyone here at Llanfyllin school will be praying that your aunt makes a full recovery very soon.”

“Thank you, sir,” Gwen managed.

The headmaster turned to Dai. “I’ll let you be on your way,” he said. “Thank you for coming for Gwen as quickly as you did.”

The men shook hands, and then, as if in a fog, Gwen was walking through the school hall, gathering her coat and hat, and following Dai out to his waiting cart.

They didn’t speak until Dai pulled up outside Mrs. Pritchard’s house. “I’ll come explain to your landlady what’s happened while you collect your things,” he said.

“Thank you,” Gwen said, scrambling down from the cart before Dai reached her. “It won’t take me long.”

She entered the house and ran up the stairs without seeing Mrs. Pritchard. Pulling her trunk out from its position at the end of her bed, she opened the lid and started dumping things into it. Her clothes, her books, her hairbrush—there was no folding or organizing. Gwen simply emptied everything from the drawers and the wardrobe. Finally, when she was sure she hadn’t missed anything else, she took Lewis’s rose and placed it carefully on the top of her clothes and closed the lid.

Dai carried the trunk down the stairs and loaded it into the cart. Mrs. Pritchard, who had obviously been updated on Aunty Jane’s condition, stopped Gwen in the hall. “Your room will be here waiting for you whenever you’re ready,” she said, surprising Gwen by giving her a big hug.

“Thank you, Mrs. Pritchard,” Gwen said. “You’ve been very kind.”

“Pshh. It was nothing,” the older lady said. “You take care of yourself now.”

Gwen nodded.

“Are we ready?” Dai asked from the door.

“Yes.” Gwen hurried to the cart and let Dai help her up. He handed her a blanket before climbing up beside her. With a final wave to Mrs. Pritchard, Gwen braced herself against the seat, and the cart jolted forward.

Gwen’s thoughts went around and around with the cart’s wheels. What would she find when she returned home? Surely her aunt was strong enough to recover. But how would apoplexy affect her aunt’s future? She prayed the doctor would reach Aunty Jane in time and would know how to help her. If not . . . what would she do if Aunty Jane died? She had no idea where Robert was, and she had no other family.

Gwen took a steadying breath. She would not think that way. She couldn’t. She would go home and do all in her power to help her aunt heal completely. And that included prayer. Bowing her head and closing her eyes, Gwen shut out the bumpy road, the brilliant white landscape, and the man sitting tensely beside her, and she prayed.

She lost track of time. It was hard to identify the usual landmarks along the way, as most of them were still buried in snow. Only the lowering of the sun and the lengthening of the horse’s and cart’s shadows on the snowdrifts indicated how long they’d been traveling. Dai pulled another blanket out from under the wooden seat.

“It’s going to get much colder once the sun sets,” he said, handing it to her.

Numbly, Gwen unfolded the blanket and stretched it out so it covered both her legs and Dai’s. He gave her a small smile of appreciation.

“How much longer, do you think?” she asked.

He pointed to a farmhouse on the hillside. “That’s Huw Fawr’s farm,” he said. “We’re getting close.”

Gwen turned to look. From this distance, the stone structure was barely recognizable. She could see only half the slate roof beneath a huge snowdrift. The chimneys were noticeably absent of smoke, and the windows were shuttered. The nearby barns were simply enormous mounds of snow, and there was no sign of tracks in the farmyard or the lane leading up to it.

“It doesn’t look like anyone’s there,” Gwen said. “D’you think Huw and his mam are all right?”

“As well as can be expected, I imagine,” Dai said, his expression grave. “They moved away a week before the storm hit. To somewhere near Welshpool, I think.”

“They moved?” Gwen’s voice reflected her shock. Huw Fawr had been born and brought up in that farmhouse—as had his father and grandfather before him. He’d never married but had managed the house and the farm quite well with the help of his widowed mother.

“That’s right,” Dai continued. “Apparently Huw’s cousin has a farm down there and was looking for a new foreman. His cousin heard what was happening here with the dam going up, so he offered the position to Huw. We all know how hard it’s going to be to find work once they start flooding the valley, so Huw decided to take the job while it was available.” Dai shook his head. “Had to have been a bitter thing though. Going from farming your own land to working for your cousin.”

Gwen’s chest ached for Huw Fawr’s loss. “It must have been hard for his mother too.”

Dai nodded. “She didn’t let on how difficult it was, but you can’t uproot after so many years without it hurting.”

Beneath the blanket, Gwen chaffed her hands together, thinking of the many people whose lives would be forever changed by the construction of the dam.

“What will you do when the time comes to leave, Mr. Williams?” she asked.

For a few moments, the only sounds were the jingle of the harness, the creak of the wheels against the hardpacked snow, and the panting of the horse as it started up another incline. But when Dai finally spoke, his voice was filled with sadness, and his weatherworn face looked unexpectedly vulnerable. “I don’t know, bach,” he said with a sigh. “Like too many others, I’ve been putting off the decision. But the village has lost four or five families in the last six months, and it’s only going to get worse.”

Gwen didn’t want to ask which other families had left. In a community as small as Llanwddyn, she would know every single one of them, and their departure would leave a hole impossible to fill.

“I’m glad your aunt will still have work at the post office, even if it’s in a new spot down the valley,” Dai said.

“Yes,” Gwen said, the word sounding hollow even to her own ears.

They both knew there was a very real possibility that Aunty Jane may never be well enough to work again or may not survive the apoplexy at all. Anxiety gnawed at Gwen, making her stomach churn. Was she strong enough to face what lay ahead, no matter what the future held?

“Oh, please, please, let her be all right,” Gwen whispered a little while later as they finally rolled into the village.

Dai gave her a sympathetic look and clicked his tongue at the horse, urging the tired animal to move just a little faster. They crossed Pont Cedig. It was late enough that the shops and the smithy were closed. Even the houses looked closed, with little or no light escaping the tightly drawn curtains. They passed the post office and saw another horse and cart standing outside Aunty Jane’s house.

“I daresay that’s the doctor now,” Dai said, pulling on the reins and bringing his horse to a stop right behind the other cart.

“Thank you, Mr. Williams,” Gwen said, tearing the blankets off her legs and scrambling down as quickly as she could. “Really. I can’t thank you enough.” Then she ran for the house, pausing only long enough to unlatch the back door before rushing up the stairs to her aunt’s bedroom.