by Kate Hewitt
And then the most poignant memory of all, when she’d thought, for a moment, that Jed might kiss her. Everything between them had felt suspended, transfixed in a moment of breathless yearning—
But he hadn’t kissed her, and the moment had broken, both of them acting as if it hadn’t happened at all. Later she’d found him kissing Louisa instead, and a few months after that they’d become engaged. She still didn’t know why Jed had pulled back from her, or, worse yet, if that moment had been all in her mind, no more than her wistful imaginings. She and Jed had never talked about it, although Jed had, with painful awkwardness, had attempted an apology of sorts after his engagement.
There are things that should have been said between us, Ellen…
She’d turned away from him then, unable to bear the thought of hearing them when it was too late, when it wouldn’t do any good, or worse, hearing some kind of justification or excuse about how he’d never felt that way about her. Better not to say. Better not to know.
Now she forced herself to focus on the ceremony, on the vows being said that would bind Jed and Louisa together forever, for better or worse, for richer or poorer. For their sake she hoped they found happiness together, and that Louisa was able to settle to island life, and Jed was able to see to his wife’s happiness. Together they would find their way… and surely that was all anyone could hope for?
“I now pronounce you man and wife!” To a smattering applause, Jed and Louisa turned towards the congregation, and Ellen took in their happy smiles, although she suspected Jed felt more relief than anything else in that moment. He’d always hated being in front of a crowd.
Hand in hand they walked up the aisle towards the doors of the church, and as Ellen watched them go she something in herself lighten and then let go. They were married. Jed was gone to her forever, at least in that way, and to her surprise she had a sense of peace in that moment. Finally that chapter of her life had been put to rest.
An hour later Ellen was standing on the side of the cleanly swept barnyard, tapping her foot in time to the merry tune the best of the island’s musicians were making with fiddle, banjo, and bass. Colorful skirts whirled around her as couples took to the floor; despite his self-proclaimed two left feet, Jed had taken Louisa to dance and was moving with careful, cumbersome steps. Louisa, as radiant as ever, didn’t seem to mind, her face tilted towards her husband’s and filled with joy.
“Care to dance, Ellen?”
Ellen turned to see Lucas smiling at her. They hadn’t spoken much since that uncomfortable interview last May, and she couldn’t keep from feeling awkward at seeing him now.
“I’m…“ she began, and Lucas smiled wryly.
“For old times’ sake, if nothing else?”
“Not just old times, Lucas,” Ellen answered. Regret rushed through her at the thought of how things had changed between them; before that party at Queen’s, they’d been such good friends. “I’m honored to dance with you.”
She took his hand and soon they were dancing amidst the other couples, the sawdust sprinkled over the yard flying up in little golden puffs.
“Are you looking forward to going back to Queen’s?” Ellen asked as they moved through the other couple in a country dance. “It’s not long now.”
“No. And I am looking forward to resuming my studies for my last year.” He smiled whimsically. “I’ll have to start buckling down, you know. Look for a proper job.”
“What are you thinking of?”
He shrugged. “Law seems practical.”
“Law!” Ellen stared at Lucas in surprise. “But history has always been your first love.”
“Yes, but reading dusty, fusty books isn’t much of a profession.”
“Still…”
“I think I could enjoy the law, if I put my mind to it. And I’ll like living in a city… Kingston or Ottawa, perhaps even Toronto. What about you, Ellen? Rose told me you’re not returning to your nurse’s training. Will you stay on the island? Return to Vermont?”
“Neither.” Ellen took a deep breath. She’d been intending to tell the McCaffertys first, but it made sense to speak to Lucas alone. He’d always been the one who had encouraged her love of drawing, and he’d even suggested she exhibit some of her sketches here on the island, and try to sell them to city day-trippers. She hadn’t possessed the courage to follow through with his suggestion, but she’d appreciated his enthusiasm. She hoped he’d be happy for her now.
“What, then?” Lucas asked. The dance had ended, and in the lull between numbers Ellen and Lucas were left standing there, hands still linked as Lucas gazed at her with narrowed eyes. “What are you hiding, Ellen? You look as if you’ve got a secret.”
“It’s not meant to be a secret, exactly. I just wanted to wait until Louisa and Jed’s wedding was over before I told anyone.”
“Wait.” Lucas led her across the yard to the back porch of the Lymans’ house, the first purple shadows of twilight settling over them.
The wooden boards creaked as Ellen bunched her skirts around her ankles and sat down on the old weathered steps, enjoying a brief moment of privacy.
Lucas sat next to her, and they were both silent as they gazed out at the darkening sky, the first stars glimmering distantly.
“So tell me,” he said finally. “What are you planning? Because you’re certainly planning something, and I’m very curious to know what it is.”
Ellen laughed softly. “You know me too well, Lucas.”
“I’d like to think I know you well,” Lucas replied, and even in the shadowy darkness Ellen could see the sincerity in his eyes, hear it in his voice. She was reminded, painfully, of how that same sincerity had throbbed in his voice and shone in his eyes when he’d told her that he loved her.
She swallowed and looked away. “Well, you’re right, as usual. I am planning something. I’ve applied and been accepted to art school.”
“Art school!” Lucas reached over and squeezed her hand. “I’m so pleased for you. Where are you going? Ottawa? Montreal?”
“Glasgow, actually.”
“Glasgow!” Lucas stared at her in astonishment. “But that’s in Scotland.”
“Indeed it is,” Ellen answered teasingly. “You know your geography, Lucas.”
“But… why so far away?”
“I met one of the trustees of the school on the train to Chicago,” Ellen explained. “I was working on some sketches, and he happened to see them. We got to talking and he gave me his card… it was all very proper, of course,” she added, and Lucas smiled faintly, although she still saw a frown between his eyebrows.
“Of course.”
“In any case, when I returned here I sent him some of my best drawings, and a few weeks ago I received a reply. I’ve been accepted to The Glasgow School of Art, on a bursary.” She smiled, feeling both the trepidation and excitement course within her. “I’ll begin my studies at the school in October.”
“So soon…” Lucas still looked shocked, and Ellen felt a rush of sympathy. She knew her news was unexpected, and she suspected Aunt Rose would have a similar reaction to Lucas, pleasure mixed with wariness.
“The school has quite a few lady artists studying there,” she said when Lucas had lapsed into a frowning silence. “Some are even teachers. The head, Francis Newbery, has been encouraging ladies to apply to their program.” She clutched her knees, trying to imagine this new life that had come her way so unexpectedly. It still felt so vague and hazy, impossible to truly envision. “I’ll be boarding with one of the teachers, the Head of Drawing, Miss Gray.”
“I see.” Lucas finally rallied with a smile. “Well, I’m pleased for you, of course. Very, very pleased. And surprised you’re going so far away.” He drew a deep breath, his smile turning wry, his eyes shadowed. “You know, of course, that I wanted things to be different for you… for us.”
Ellen’s cheeks warmed and she looked away, an ache she couldn’t properly identify washing through her. “I know,” she whispered.
“I’m sorry, Lucas…”
“I haven’t given up hope, you know,” Lucas continued quietly. “Maybe that’s foolish of me, but it’s the truth.”
“Oh, Lucas—“ Ellen turned to gaze at him helplessly. How many times had she wished she’d fallen in love with him instead of Jed? And yet… the spark simply wasn’t there.
“Never mind,” he told her quickly. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I won’t again, and I’ll never press you, Ellen, I promise. But… you’ll come back, won’t you? To the island?” He sounded so sad and uncertain, it made Ellen ache all over again although she tried to sound light.
“I can’t imagine not coming back. The island will always be my home.”
“I’m glad to hear that.” They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the faint, tinny strumming of the banjo, the merry fiddling. A burst of laughter sounded from the barnyard and Lucas rose from the porch steps.
“We’ve been gone long enough, I suppose,” he said. “Jed and Louisa will be saying their goodbyes soon. They’re spending the night in Ogdensburg before heading to Toronto. Captain Jonah is taking them across specially.”
Lucas stretched out his hand to help Ellen from the steps, and as she took it he pulled her close enough to kiss her cheek. She felt the rasp of faint stubble against her chin and his lips were surprisingly soft as he brushed them against her skin.
“I’ll say my goodbye now,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “Godspeed on your journey, Ellen. I know you’ll go far.” And then he stepped away, and they walked in silence back to the party.
The next morning, over breakfast, Ellen told all of the McCaffertys her plans.
Rose stared at her open-mouthed for a moment, porridge dripping from the wooden spoon she held aloft, before she hurriedly returned it to the pot and pulled Ellen into a tight embrace.
“All the way to Glasgow! Oh, Ellen, we’ll miss you so, but how terribly exciting!” She stepped back, her eyes sparkling with tears.
“Oh, Aunt Rose—“
She sniffed quickly and shook her head. “Never mind me. I’m always quick to cry, as Dyle will tell you. But we will miss you so. You’ll come back, won’t you? At the end of the course, at least?”
“Of course I’ll come back,” Ellen promised Rose, just as she’d promised Lucas. Truly, she could not imagine doing otherwise.
“When do you leave, then?” Rose asked, all determined briskness now. She dolloped far too much porridge in Ellen’s bowl, her hand trembling, and Ellen gave some to Ruthie before sprinkling it with maple sugar.
“In a fortnight. I’m going to travel down to New York and take the S.S. Furnessia to Glasgow.”
“Goodness.” Rose’s gaze widened. “You’ve arranged all this without saying a word?”
With a pang of guilt Ellen nodded, stirring her porridge. “Yes. It wasn’t much trouble, and I didn’t want to take away from Jed and Louisa’s wedding.”
Rose shook her head slowly. “I can’t even imagine. You’ve had such experiences, Ellen. First New Mexico and now across the ocean… you’re quite the lady adventuress!”
“Are you frightened, Ellen?” Sarah, still dreamy and bookish at fourteen years old, asked. “I would be, going so far away. Do you remember Glasgow?”
“Yes, I do, although not the part I’ll be living in.” Ellen’s memory of Glasgow was the cramped tenement she’d lived in with her father and bedridden mother, grimy with coal dust from the railyard. She remembered working all hours at only ten years old, washing and cooking and sweeping, and then sitting by her mother’s bedside while she faded away.
No, this would be much different—school and drawing, living in an elegant neighborhood, having a room of her own.
“And what about meeting all sorts of new people?” Sarah asked. “I’d be scared of that, as well.”
“Truth be told, Sarah, I am a bit,” Ellen admitted with a laugh.
“Well, I wouldn’t be,” Caro answered with a toss of her pretty head. Caro was just two years younger than Ellen’s nineteen, and was in her last year of high school at Glebe Collegiate in Kingston, hoping for a place at Queen’s. “I think it sounds amazing. Travelling on a steamer by yourself! I wish I could.”
Ellen smiled and nodded. She was, in a nervous sort of way, looking forward to the ship passage. Seven years ago she’d arrived on a steamer with her Da, travelling third class, a twelve-year-old waif with a thick brogue and tangled hair. Now she was splurging on second class, and travelling as a young lady of some means, with a future far more certain than she and Da had had when they’d sailed into New York’s harbor. She was coming full circle.
Later, when Ellen was alone in her room with a pile of mending, Rose came to find her, several aprons neatly ironed and folded in her arms. “I don’t suppose you’ll need these in Glasgow,” she said wryly as she placed them on top of the bureau.
“I might,” Ellen answered. “I’ll be trying my hand at pottery and painting as well as drawing. I think most of the students wear smocks.”
“Do they?” Rose perched on the edge of the bed. “Well, you ought to buy yourself some nice new dresses, at any rate. Or I could make some up for you. You should have some nice things to start.”
“I might do a bit of shopping in New York, before I leave,” Ellen said, and then gave a little self-conscious laugh. “That sounds so grand—I can hardly believe it.” Uncle Hamish had given her some money after Ruth’s death, enough to pay for her passage and some living expenses while she was in Glasgow. If she was careful, it should last all three years.
“I don’t like to think of you in New York all by yourself,” Rose said. “It’s not safe. Perhaps Dyle should take you. You could both go on the train…”
“Uncle Dyle can’t be away from the farm for that long, and if I’m going to travel all the away across the Atlantic, I expect I’ll be all right in New York City. I’ve already found a place to stay, a perfectly respectable boarding house for ladies in Gramercy Park.” Ellen smiled to soften the refusal. “Besides, I came all the way here from Seaton when I was but thirteen. I can manage, Aunt Rose. You know I can.”
“I suppose you can.” Rose shook her head with a sigh. “I know I’m fussing, but I can’t help it. You’re like another daughter to me, Ellen. I will miss you terribly.”
Ellen blinked hard and swallowed past the thickness in her throat. “And you’ve been as a mam to me, Aunt Rose.”
Rose smiled, and Ellen could see her aunt had more to say. “Ellen…” she began. “I just want to be sure… for my own peace of mind… this is what you want? There’s a difference between running to something and running away.”
It took a few seconds for her aunt’s meaning to be clear, and when it did Ellen felt her cheeks burn. She knew then that Rose had guessed something of her feelings for Jed. How obvious had she been? Or was lovely Aunt Rose just so astute?
“I think any journey is a bit of both,” she said as lightly as she could, as she picked up her mending once more, unable to look her aunt in the eye and see the compassion there. “But I’m excited about this opportunity, Aunt Rose. I’ve always loved drawing, and this is the best chance I have to make a go for it. This is the right decision for me, whether I’m running to or away.”
Rose sighed and nodded. “As long as you’re sure.”
“I’m sure.”
Yet as Rose left her little bedroom Ellen wondered just how sure she actually was.
Ever since she was a small child she’d wanted a home of her own, a place that would welcome her and never change. Yet her life, she acknowledged wryly, had been one of seemingly constant tumult: first moving from Springburn to Vermont, and then having her Aunt Ruth send her to Amherst Island. That had turned out to be a happy occasion, but for the next seven years Ellen had travelled between Seaton and the island, her loyalties divided between the home of her heart and the family—Uncle Hamish and Aunt Ruth—who had committed to raising her.
She knew Rose and Dyle would
always consider their farm her home; she’d have a place here as long as she wished. So why was she now so determined to leave? Was she running away, away from heartbreak and the pain of seeing Jed and Louisa day in and day out?
She hadn’t actually spoken to either of them since the wedding; she’d only seen Jed across the barnyard when he and Louisa had been about to drive off from the Lymans’. Their gazes had met across the crowded yard, and for a second Ellen had felt as if the heavy thud of her heart was weighing her down. She thought she saw a storm of emotions in Jed’s normally shuttered gaze, but then Louisa spoke to him and he turned away, and they left without Ellen having ever said goodbye, or anything at all. She wished she had; she wanted to recapture that settled sense of peace she’d felt in the church. She wanted to be sure.
“I’m not running away,” she said aloud now, her voice seeming both small and fierce in the emptiness of her own room. “I’m not. I’m running to.”
CHAPTER THREE
The day before Ellen was to leave for New York the McCaffertys had a going-away party for her. It was a small but merry affair, with just the McCaffertys and the Lymans and a few other close friends in attendance, all crowded into the front parlor for games and and music, accompanied by apple cider and Aunt Rose’s island-famous sugared donuts.
Ellen received the little sending-off gifts with both joy and barely held back tears, as once again she realised how far away she was going, and how unknown her future compared to the warm and easy familiarity of island life.
There were handkerchiefs embroidered with violets from Rose; a new sketchbook with fresh, crisp paper from Lucas; sachets filled with dried lavender from Caro; and a set of scented soaps bought in Toronto from Louisa and Jed.
