Jeanne Hunter, a freelance writer who lives in Corning, Sask., has created this story using the names of Saskatchewan towns.
This is part two. In part one, Young Madge Lake and the Love of her life, Admiral Herbert Creighton, were living blissfully in the Frontier.
Meanwhile, other tales of adventure were unfolding in this Choiceland.
Our new heroine is Alice Beach, who happened to be a cousin of Crystal Lake a distant relative of Young Madge Lake of an earlier tale.
Alice Beach, her sisters Constance, Corinne and Caron, lived a Lone Rock’s throw from the North Shore of the Brownlee, which was named not because of a lack of rain but because the original settlers could not see Clair enough to appreciate the Clear Springs in the area.
Read Also
Invigor Gold variety viewed as threat to condiment mustard
Invigor Gold, the canola-quality mustard developed by BASF, is on a collision course with Canada’s condiment mustard industry. It’s difficult to see how the two can co-exist.
The family of Alice Beach had a Fairholme, high on a Central Butte, a
yard boasting an orchard of Box Alder, a Rose Valley and the scent of Jasmin in the air.
Over the years her parents, Ruthilda and Denare Beach, had acquired West Bend appliances, a Sylvania television and a few sets of golf clubs, Spalding, of course.
It was a good life. Alice Beach was a generous young woman. Whenever anyone asked her to do something, she eagerly replied, “Cando.”
She was such a gem, her parents wished they could Cloan her. There were some who honestly thought she could Wakaw water.
One day a traveller arrived in the area, a man who spoke strangely due to health problems.
“I Kenosee so well,” he said.
In truth, he was recently home from Dewar. He had served near Kandahar, where he had been injured. He often had to rest.
“For Lafleche is weak,” he lamented.
Alice Beach befriended the man whose name was Leslie Frobisher. She brought him Carmel pudding, delicious Pinkham baked in Corning wear dishes, a cake made with Blackstrap molasses and some Silton cheese.
Sometimes she would Carry the Kettle of tea to his home. When he was alone, he usually just tossed a Swanson dinner in the microwave. He appreciated her attention, but Alice Beach only said, “It’s the Leask I can do for a war hero. What I’m doing is only a Handsworth compared to all he’s done.”
They were shopping in town one day when Mervin Hepburn, a loathsome fellow, stumbled out of the bar.
“Hoosier friend?” he asked her.
Mervin did not have a very good Outlook about many things, and was not very Poplar. He took great delight in trying to Bateman and cause trouble. His wife, Nora, had left him for Sanctuary in Sleepy Hollow.
Alice Beach ignored him, and she and Leslie Frobisher slipped into the theatre to see an old Hitchcock movie. When it was over they agreed it was a good story.
“Bienfait” they agreed, like all of Hitch-cock’s movies.
They didn’t see Mervin anywhere, so they stopped at the café to Drinkwater before ordering their meal.
“Where’s your car?” Alice Beach asked.
Leslie replied: “Debuc? It’s parked on Demaine street. I got some Peebles in my windshield. We Neidpath of paved road around here.”
Alice Beach loved his sense of humour. She enjoyed the Limericks he wrote, the Mozart he found on the radio.
“Ituna the right station for good music,” he said.
The only thing that Loomis over their happiness was her fear of water.
“But it’s Goodwater,” he said. “I love the Ocean, Man,” she said, “but only when my feet are firmly on the Stony Beach.”
He sighed. Sometimes he had pain,
sharp like a Porcupine. “Let’s Govan,”
he said. “I need to rest.”
For a man who had been a Ranger, who had studied Plato in Birmingham, dined at Stornaway and had American friends buried at Arlington, these were dark moments.
“My sister, Mildred, may be able to help you,” suggested Alice Beach.
“She is a Superb doctor and has a Clearview of many injuries. She learned some techniques when she was in Ceylon. She uses a small Cut Knife, waves an Amulet around, sometimes pricks the affected area with a Yellow Quill, and if she has a Shamrock, she puts it on each Lashburn. We’ll go to her clinic on Greenstreet. It’s just a few blocks away in Pleasantdale. She’s a real Leader in her field.”
Leslie Frobisher nodded.
“I’ve Dundurn near everything else except hide in some Burrows or gnaw on an Antler.”
The treatment was a great Success. They ignored all the Smuts remarks of those who ridiculed them.
They were married a few months later, built a home with a Highgate to keep out the naysayers.
“Welwyn in the end,” Leslie said. “I just Vonda be with you.”
Their wedding was front page news in the Tribune. They even received a Carlton card from Mervin who, by then, had spent Weekes in jail.
One day he yelled from his cell, “Hawarden, I have a Good Spirit now and want to be a good Primate.”
He received permission to send greetings, which meant that everyone finally had Plenty of happiness.
