On Renfrew Street (Amherst Island Trilogy Book 2)

by Kate Hewitt

  “Ellen, my girl. I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

  “I’m glad to be back, Uncle Hamish.”

  Hamish popped a humbug into his mouth and sucked it vigorously. “Back for good, then?”

  “I don’t know. I’m going up to Amherst Island and then I’ll see.”

  “You’ve done well for yourself back in Scotland.”

  Ellen smiled and shrugged. “I’ve been happy there. For the most part.”

  “It’s hard to get over war,” Hamish said sagely. “But you will, Ellen. In time.”

  Ellen nodded. She had no external injuries, no scars or missing limbs to learn to accept, simply the emptiness of a life she no longer knew what to do with. But perhaps Hamish was right, and in time she’d be able to move on.

  “But you’re well, Uncle Hamish?” she asked.

  “As well as I can be. I’m not getting any younger.” His face creased into a smile. “But I’m happy enough. I still miss Ruth.”

  “Yes, I’m sure you do,” Ellen answered. “I do, too.” Her Aunt Ruth had been a hard woman, but Ellen had known, at least at the end, that she’d loved her.

  “Ah, Ellen.” Hamish covered her hand with his own. “I hope you find what you’re looking for.”

  Tears rose unexpectedly in her eyes and she smiled and blinked them back. “So do I, Uncle Hamish. So do I.”

  Ellen spent the night at her Uncle Hamish’s, and in the morning she made her way to the impressive house on Water Street where Louisa’s parents lived. She hesitated before knocking on the door, for she didn’t know if Louisa was still in Seaton, or if her old friend would want to see her.

  As it happened, she didn’t get a chance to knock. The door opened and Louisa’s mother, Mrs. Hopper, stood there, scowling at Ellen so she nearly took a step back.

  “If you’re looking for Louisa, she’s not here.”

  “Oh, is she—is she back on the island?” Ellen stammered. “I only wanted to say hello, Mrs. Hopper—“

  “She’s not back on that wretched island,” Mrs. Hopper snapped. “She’s gone to New York, to stay with some friends. After everything she’d been through, her father and I thought she deserved a rest.” Mrs. Hopper lifted her chin and glared at Ellen as if daring her to challenge that statement.

  “Of course, of course,” Ellen murmured. “If I’d known, perhaps I could have seen her in New York. But maybe I’ll see her back on Amherst—“

  “She won’t be going back to that island of yours if I have any say about it,” Mrs. Hopper cut across her. “After what that man put her through, making her scrub and clean like a common drudge! And if she’d had better care, she never would have lost…” Mrs. Hopper stopped, choking back a sob, and then shook her head vehemently. “I wish Louisa had never met you, and never got it into her contrary head to visit that island of yours. None of this would have happened if it wasn’t for you, Ellen Copley.” And with that unjust statement, Mrs. Hopper closed the door in Ellen’s face.

  Ellen went down the stairs slowly and stood on the pavement, her mind reeling from all Mrs. Hopper had said. Did she really blame her for everything that had happened? Did Louisa? And surely she didn’t mean that Louisa would never go back to Amherst Island… to Jed…

  No, surely in time Louisa would see sense. She was married, after all. She’d spoken vows. And Jed needed a loving wife by his side now more than ever.

  Slowly, her heart weighed down by all those worries, Ellen walked down the pavement, away from the Hoppers’ house.

  She took the train to Ogdensburg and then walked to the ferry landing that would take her to Amherst Island. It was a warm spring day, a brisk breeze rippling the blue-green waters of Lake Ontario as she stood on the wooden platform and waited for the little boat to make its way across the lake.

  Soon she saw it, a distant smudge on the horizon, and as it came closer she grinned for to her amazement she recognized the boat’s captain.

  “Captain Jonah! I don’t know if you remember me—“

  “Remember you?” Captain Jonah, white-haired and his face a mass of wrinkles, spat neatly into the water. “I remember every passenger who ever stepped foot on this boat, missy! It’s Ellen Copley, of course, back from Glasgow and France.”

  “Yes.” Quite suddenly Ellen felt overwhelmed by emotion—not sorrow, which she’d felt for far too long, but joy. A wild, inexpressible joy. “Yes, Captain Jonah, it’s me.”

  “Well come aboard then!” Captain Jonah exclaimed. “Sharpish now, missy. Night’s falling, you know, and it gets mighty cold when the sun sets.”

  Twilight was indeed falling by the time they reached the island. Ellen had sat in the stern, her face lifted to catch the lake’s chilly breeze, the spray from the wake the boat made stinging her face.

  “Is someone coming for you?” Captain Jonah asked dubiously, for the little ferry office was shut up tight, and the island’s one main street was empty and dark.

  Ellen laughed softly, remembering how long ago she’d sat outside the ferry office, a shy, uncertain girl of thirteen, and waited for someone to fetch her. Jed Lyman had come, ungraciously at that, and taken her back to the McCaffertys’ farmhouse in his old wagon.

  “No,” she told Captain Jonah now. “No one’s coming for me. No one knows I’m here. But don’t worry, Captain Jonah, I know the way.”

  “If you’re sure…”

  “I’m sure,” Ellen said firmly. Darkness had settled on the rolling fields of the island, and a whippoorwill called in the distance. Smiling, Ellen lifted her skirts and stepped off the boat. Then with her head held high she started walking towards home.

  THE END