interrupted as Jenny, led by the Fraser twins, burst into the shop. She was clutching the same issue of the Sentinel I had just read from.
“Oh, Ted, look. There are to be races and fireworks and a big celebration on Dominion Day, July 1. See, here’s a list of all the things that are going to happen. Wait, Andrew, I shall unleash you momentarily. Robert, you must stay still if you want me to untie you. Good afternoon, Mr. MacIntosh. What is Dominion Day?”
“July 1, 1867, is when the provinces united to form the Dominion of Canada, Jenny. So we celebrate that event.”
She frowned. “But British Columbia is nae a part of that dominion, is it?”
“Not yet,” my father said, “but many who live here came from Canada West, so they brought the celebration with them. Besides, soon we’ll join the Dominion. I feel sure of that.”
“I see,” she said, still looking confused.
“Last Dominion Day I entered the Merchant Race and won,” I said.
“Aye, the prize was ten dollars,” Pa said. He frowned. “Which my son was reluctant to share with me.”
I said nothing. My father and I had disagreed about the prize money. Since it was my legs and energy that had won the race, I felt I was entitled to all the prize money. Pa had pointed out that he was actually the “merchant,” the true owner of this shop, which allowed me to enter this particular race. He even deducted the dollar entry fee from my share of the winnings, maintaining that, as he had paid it in the first place, it should be returned to him. However, I was allowed to keep the small silver cup that was also part of the prize.
“Are you entering again, Ted?” Jenny asked.
“Not in the Merchant Race,” I said, still disgruntled over the division of the prize money.
“Then which race will you run in?” she asked. “Look, the newspaper says there will be a Sack Race, a Hill Race, a Three-Legged Race, many foot races, and even horse racing. A cannon will be fired down the main street to begin the celebrations, and there will be speeches and singing. It will be a grand day. Robert, no, that is nae to eat.”
She dropped the newspaper and rescued a small wood shaving that Robert was about to swallow. He opened his mouth to howl a protest, and Jenny recovered another piece from his mouth. “You’ll have a stomach ache if you eat those, as you know full well, you glaikit bairn,” she scolded. Then, without taking a breath, she added, “Don’t you be foolish like your brother, Andrew. Don’t put any in your mouth.” She had learned that what one twin did, the other often copied.
“Which races will I enter?” I wondered aloud. “I don’t know.” I had a vision of entering them all, winning them all, and presenting Jenny with an armful of silver cups and ten-dollar bills, while she smiled and once more kissed me on the cheek. Then I shook away the thought. I wasn’t a swift runner and had only won the Merchant Race the previous year because most of the other merchants were older than I. “I’ll think on it,” I finally said.
“Well, I’ll enter the Sack Race and the Hop, Skip, and Jump,” Jenny said. “I’m light on my feet and good at skipping. I’m sure I can win one of those events. Perhaps I’ll also take part in a foot race. After all, I’ve become a fast runner chasing the twins. Yes, I’ll try a foot race, as well.”
Pa and I exchanged glances.
“Best tell her, son,” he said, crouching on the floor and suddenly becoming very busy helping the twins stack their bits of wood.
“Tell me what?” Jenny asked.
“Pa, please?” I had hoped my father would do it, but he shook his head and kept his back turned. So I knew I had to be the one to give her the news.
“Urn, Jenny, you see...well, those races are only for men. Not for girls like you...I mean, women,” I added hastily.
Suddenly it grew quiet. Even the twins stopped what they were doing and peered up at Jenny. Pa had his back to her, but I knew he was listening intently, the way people do when they think they hear a thunderstorm approaching. It seemed to me that he bowed his head and hunched his shoulders, almost as if he were expecting rain, not words, to fall.
“Only for whom?” Jenny demanded in a quiet voice. “The races are only for whom?”
I gulped. “For men. Or boys who are nearly men.”
“I see. So women can come to this dreadful country, cook meals, wash clothes, tend to the bairns, and keep the fires going through the winter nights, but they are nae good enough to run in a silly race?”
“No, it isn’t like that—” I began.
“So, no woman at all can enter? Nae a single one?” She took a deep breath and began to speak. Five minutes later, the squirming twins tightly tucked under her arms, their forgotten leashes dangling from her waist, she swept from the store. Jenny had said a great deal in those five minutes, but what I remember most were her final words.
“Men! Why did God create such eejit creatures?”
Eight
It was almost a week before I saw Jenny again. I heard her and the twins as they dashed along the boardwalks—often they would run right outside the carpentry shop—but they didn’t come in.
Twice I left what I was working on and casually stepped to the door, opening it only to see her retreating back. Once Robert—or maybe it was Andrew—who was trying to travel in the opposite direction, caught a glimpse of me and yelled, “Huncle Ted! Want to play blocks with Huncle Ted, Jenny!” But she ignored him and continued her rapid progress down the street, dragging the protesting child behind her.
“So, do you think your Scottish lassie will return?” Pa asked me one day.
“Who? Oh, you mean Jenny. Why, I hadn’t noticed, but she hasn’t visited us lately, has she? We’ve been so busy I really haven’t had time to think about her.”
“Aye,” my father replied. “So you say, lad. So you say.” Yes, that was what I said, but it wasn’t what I meant, not at all. I missed her, and I was more than delighted when, a few days later, the thundering feet and laughter halted at the carpentry shop, the door opened, and Jenny and her charges came in.
“Good afternoon, Mr. MacIntosh,” she said brightly. “The boys were asking if they might have a wee visit, if you have time.”
“We shall always make time for you, lass,” Pa said, setting the box of wood scraps in the centre of the floor. “Ted, put the kettle on and we’ll have tea.”
“Why, Ted, I didn’t notice you,” Jenny said. “But, no, thank you. I nae have time for tea today.” She bent to untie the twins, then straightened, their leashes in her hand, watching them as they gleefully dug into their box of “toys.” “But it’s a good thing you’re here, Ted, for I have a request for you from a new friend of mine.”
“Of course, Jenny. I’ll be pleased to help any friend of yours. What’s her name?”
She smiled. “His name is Joseph.”
“Oh, I see.
