Return to the Island: An utterly gripping historical romance

by Hewitt, Kate

  Go to New York? Be wined and dined by the sounds of it, and meet prestigious people within the art world? It was like something out of a storybook, or a moving picture. A fairy tale, not real life. Not her life.

  “I’ve surprised you, I see,” Elvira said with a laugh. “I suppose it is a great deal to take in. But do think on it, Ellen. I shudder to think of you wasting all your days away here! There are so many people you could meet, so many people who would be delighted to meet you, and encourage you in your ambitions.”

  “That’s very kind of you to offer,” Ellen began, her mind still whirling. “But I have obligations here, important ones, and I could not possibly leave the McCaffertys for an entire month.” She was thinking of Rose as well as Peter, and, she realized, she was also thinking of Jed. Did he need her? No, of course he didn’t. And yet she knew she would miss his friendship, if she were to leave the island.

  “I understand, but please don’t refuse just yet,” Elvira entreated. “Not until you’ve thought about it properly. I know you have duties here, Ellen, and it is quite plain to see how everyone relies on you. But you are a talented young woman and I think you would enjoy seeing more of the world. I know you nursed in the war,” she clarified with a quick, conciliatory smile. “And you’ve had your years in Glasgow, as well. But New York hasn’t had the pleasure of your presence, and I think the city would offer you so much. Come to New York, Ellen,” Elvira urged, clasping her hands in hers. “Come to New York, and have an adventure.”

  Ellen barely had time to think of Elvira’s surprising and beguiling invitation; the next morning, the Framptons left in a flurry of grateful goodbyes, with Elvira pressing her hand and urging her to send a telegram as soon as she’d made up her mind about visiting her in the city.

  “It would be such fun,” she insisted. “And such an honor, truly.”

  An honor? Ellen almost wanted to laugh. Elvira Frampton acted as if she were someone special, a famous artist, when she knew she was nothing of the kind. And yet it felt so very nice to be so flattered, to imagine a life apart, meeting important people and doing exciting things. As much as she loved island life, the daily round of chores, the pressing cares, had wearied her, and the thought of going somewhere else—being wined and dined and the rest of it—held a shameful appeal.

  She couldn’t go, of course. Ellen had known that as soon as Elvira had made the invitation. She couldn’t possibly leave Rose and the others, not with Caro still nursing Iris Wilson and her poor children, and the holiday business barely up and running, and Peter’s situation so uncertain.

  It was impossible. And yet it didn’t stop her from daydreaming, just a little, about what a trip to New York would be like. She hadn’t spent any time there, not properly. She’d sailed in to the city’s harbor as a wide-eyed twelve-year-old, but that felt like a lifetime ago. Two lifetimes, when she thought of her time at the Glasgow School of Art, and then nursing in France during the war.

  Of course, she’d also done a bit of shopping there before sailing for Scotland eight years ago now, but it had been a fleeting trip, nothing more, two nights in a hotel and a trip to the Ladies’ Mile. She still recalled the bustling energy of the enormous city, and how it had invigorated her. To stay in someone’s home, tour all the wonderful sights, meet interesting and influential people, for an entire month…

  “No, Ellen,” she muttered as she swiped a strand of hair from her eyes and scrubbed a scorched pan in the sink with even more vigor. “Don’t even think of it.”

  “Think of what?” Rose asked cheerfully as she came into the kitchen with a basket of washing to hang on the line.

  “Nothing,” Ellen said quickly. “Let me hang that for you, Aunt Rose.”

  “I can do it, Ellen—”

  “But I want to.” Ellen left the pan to soak and then took the basket from her aunt. “It’s a beautiful day and I’d like to get some air. You sit down and rest for a minute. Have a cup of tea.” She put the basket of washing down to fill the kettle and hauled it onto the stove.

  “Well, I suppose a cup of tea would be nice.”

  “Good.” Ellen couldn’t keep from noticing how tired and careworn her aunt looked. She was only a little over fifty, but the lines on her face and gray in her hair made her look older and frailer. War, loss, worry… it had all aged her, along with everyone else. The thought of losing her aunt, after having lost so many people already, made fear clutch at her heart in a way that Rose must have seen for she smiled at her.

  “Why are you looking so worried, dear Ellen? Things are going well, aren’t they?” A letter had come that morning from Toronto with a request for another booking in August.

  “Yes.” Ellen gave her aunt a watery smile in return. She was being rather ridiculously emotional for some reason. Elvira’s invitation had stirred up all sorts of feelings inside her, along with talking to Jed the other day. And she was so very tired. But Lucas was due to arrive tomorrow. Ellen looked forward to seeing him with both enthusiasm and some dread, for what he might say about Peter’s condition and the likelihood of him going into hospital. “Yes, things are going well.”

  Outside, the day was fresh, the sun warm, light glinting off Lake Ontario, making the ruffled waves sparkle as if strewn with diamonds. Ellen started to peg the laundry on the line, willing her heart to lift at this simple pleasure. Caro was still with the Wilsons, and Jed was to ask Lucas about a hospital for Peter, and the farm’s future still felt precarious, but… the sun was shining, the day was warm, and she wanted to be happy.

  “Ellen.”

  Ellen looked up in surprise to see Lucas striding across the front yard, dressed in his business clothes, his hat in his hand, a smile on his handsome face.

  “Lucas…” She shook her head dumbly. “What are you doing here? You weren’t meant to come until tomorrow evening.”

  “I decided to come today. I thought the matter was pressing, and should be dealt with directly. And I was able to get the time off work.”

  “You didn’t…”

  “Ellen, this is about Peter.” Lucas stood in front of her, his expression both serious and smiling, blue eyes crinkled at the corners, everything about him so wonderfully familiar and dear. “Of course I came. I’ve known Peter since he was born. He’s like a brother to me, and…” He paused, and cleared his throat.

  Ellen stared at him in confusion. “And?”

  “And I’d do anything to help him,” Lucas said simply, although Ellen had a feeling he’d been about to say something else, although she had no idea what. “I’ve already spoken to the hospital in Toronto, and they’re willing to see him as soon as Monday, if need be. We can all go together, if you like, on the train.”

  “Monday!” That was only in four days. Ellen had never expected things to happen so quickly, and with a holiday booking next week…

  “Why not? The sooner he gets the treatment, the better, surely?”

  “Yes, I suppose.” She struggled to articulate her hesitation, even to herself. “Perhaps he’s not as bad as all that…”

  “Ellen.” Lucas put his hand on her shoulder, warm and comforting, as he looked somberly into his face. “I know we both want that to be the case, and heaven knows everyone else does as well. But what we want and what is true are two separate things, aren’t they?”

  “You haven’t even seen Peter yet,” Ellen pointed out, the words squeezed out through her suddenly too-tight throat.

  “No, but then I’m not a doctor. This is just for an initial assessment, you know. No decisions would have to be made. Nothing would be final.”

  “That’s good.” Ellen managed to nod, although in truth the reality of a hospital appointment in just a few days was completely overwhelming. Just like Caro, she realized, she’d been trying to convince herself that Peter might be all right. He’d had his good days, after all, and there had not been, as far as she knew, another episode of confusion since that dreadful evening with the fireworks.

  Lucas put both hands
on her shoulders and bent down to peer into her face. “Are you coping?” he asked quietly, his compassionate gaze sweeping over her. “You look done in, Ellen.”

  “I’m fine…” Ellen knew she sounded feeble. When had she become so weak? Coming over all emotional with Jed a few days ago, and now with Lucas. She wasn’t working any harder than Caro or Rose, or even Gracie or Sarah, who had taken over all the garden and kitchen work while their guests were in residence. She really needed to regain her composure, her resilience. “Just a bit tired, that’s all, but no more than anyone else.”

  “Come walk with me,” Lucas suggested. “You can spare half an hour, can’t you?”

  “I shouldn’t…”

  “Twenty minutes, then.”

  Ellen glanced back at the house, looking peaceful enough in the sunlight, and then nodded. “All right. We don’t have anyone coming until next week. But let me finish pegging this washing out first.”

  “I’ll help you.”

  She couldn’t help but laugh at the incongruity of that. “You, in your fancy suit, hanging out the washing?”

  “Why not?” Lucas returned with a smile that held a touch of both whimsy and sorrow. “I’ve certainly done it before.” Mrs. Lyman had died when Jed and Lucas were little more than children; they’d taken over much of the housework after that.

  “I know you have,” Ellen answered softly. Although they had fathers living, she suspected that, in some ways, Lucas, like her, felt like an orphan. She had lost touch with her father long ago, and hadn’t had a letter from him in over a year, a realization that still brought her, after all this time, a pang of grief.

  It felt both strange and companionable to finish the simple chore with Lucas, shirts and sheets waving in the warm breeze. After they’d finished, Ellen hurried inside to tell Rose where she was going, and then fell into step with Lucas as they started down Jasper Lane, the oak and maple trees overhead shading them from the bright summer sun.

  They’d walked together so many times before, Ellen clutching her sketchbook, and Lucas with his notebook full of scribblings on all the animals and plants he saw and observed.

  “Where should we go?” Lucas asked with a mischievous smile as they walked along the ground dappled with sunlight, the air full of birdsong. “Down to the south shore, or out to Emerald? Or into Stella?”

  At one time or another, they’d walked all the roads and lanes of the island, exploring its meadowlands and forests, its sandy beaches nestled against the aquamarine waters.

  “I don’t mind,” Ellen said. “I’ll go anywhere.”

  Lucas’s gaze rested on hers for a lingering moment that made Ellen’s heart flip in her chest in a surprising, disconcerting way, and then he nodded towards the road that led to the brow of a hill.

  “How about to Kerr Bay?” he suggested. “I haven’t been out there in a long while.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Kerr Bay was one of the smaller inlets of the island off the north shore; Ellen hadn’t been there in a long while, either. They walked in silence for a few moments, arms swinging at their sides, enjoying the sunshine.

  “How long are you here for?” Ellen asked eventually. “Will you return to Toronto for good when we take Peter?”

  “Yes, I can only manage the weekend,” Lucas replied. “I offered to help Jed with the farm’s accounting. He does an admirable job, but he asked me to look it over. If it’s amenable to you, I thought we’d take the ferry over on Monday morning. I’ll accompany you to the hospital to introduce you to Dr. Stanton, and then I’ll return to work.”

  “I didn’t know you helped with the farm’s accounts,” Ellen said, and Lucas gave her a surprisingly sharp look.

  “Why do you sound so surprised by the notion?”

  “I just mean…” Ellen began, trying to frame her thoughts into words, and Lucas interjected shrewdly,

  “That Jed stayed to help and I didn’t?”

  She couldn’t quite gauge his tone, seemingly matter-of-fact but with an undercurrent of… bitterness? Sorrow? “It’s true, isn’t it?” she answered after a moment. “I don’t mean that unkindly, Lucas, but you aren’t here and Jed is, working the farm even though…”

  “He only has one arm.” Lucas sighed heavily. “No, I’m not here,” he agreed after a moment. “That is true.”

  “I feel I’ve offended you somehow.”

  “Not you.” Lucas sighed again and then sat down on a stretch of tufty grass, under the spreading branches of a maple tree. “I suppose it’s all a bit of a sore point with me.”

  “How so?” Ellen asked as she joined him under the tree.

  “The work I did in the war… well, it was important, but I stayed away from the Front, didn’t I?”

  Ellen gazed at him uncertainly. She’d sensed this kernel of bitterness in him before, but she’d never truly understood its source. “I’m not even sure what you did in the war, to tell you the truth.”

  “It’s still classified, so I’m afraid I can’t talk about it.” Lucas sighed and ran a hand through his rumpled hair. “But I know some people felt I was taking the easy way out, not fighting on the Front the way so many island boys did, just as I know there are plenty of people here who think I’m doing the same thing again, leaving Jed and my father to manage the farm as best as they can while I lark about in the city, having a grand old time.” Ellen stayed silent, not quite able to disagree, and Lucas turned to look at her searchingly. “Do you think that, Ellen?”

  Ellen’s heart turned over at the intent look in his eyes. “Lucas…”

  “Because it’s you that I care about most. As a friend,” he clarified with a wry smile, although Ellen hadn’t even been thinking about that. At least, not precisely. “You’ll always be one of my dearest friends.”

  “As you will be mine,” Ellen assured him, her voice slightly choked with emotion that always felt close to the surface these days. “I’ll always admire and be grateful to you, Lucas, truly. You’re the one who has saved the McCafferty farm—”

  “Now that is not true,” Lucas answered with a smile, clearly trying to lighten the moment. “I won’t take credit for something I most certainly did not do. You’ve saved it, along with the rest of the McCaffertys.”

  “I’m not actually a McCafferty, you know—”

  “Yes, you are, Ellen. You assuredly are.”

  She smiled at that, still far too near tears. Impatiently, she dabbed at her eyes. “That’s a very nice thing to say, Lucas.”

  “It’s true.” He was still looking at her intently and for some reason Ellen’s breath caught. A few days ago, Jed had touched her hand and made her heart turn over, and now here she was, feeling things she most certainly shouldn’t for his brother. Perhaps it was simply all the excess emotion she felt, the worry for the Wilsons and Peter and the McCafferty farm, everything in life both precious and precarious.

  “Let’s keep walking, or we’ll never get to Kerr Bay,” Lucas said after a moment, and he rose from his place on the grass.

  They walked in silence that was not quite as companionable as before, although neither was it unpleasant. Ellen was still wondering at her reaction to Lucas—Lucas!—when he nodded to the sandy path ahead of them that led down towards the bay.

  “Look, we’re almost here.”

  “So we are.”

  If there had been a moment between them, it had clearly passed on, and Ellen didn’t know whether she was glad or sorry. She picked her way among the rocks to stand with Lucas by the shore, staring out at the placid surface of the lake.

  Only that morning Elvira and Imogen had taken the ferry back to the mainland, and then the train from Ogdensburg all the way to New York. In the midst of all this tranquility, Ellen could barely imagine the tall buildings known as skyscrapers, the bustling city, and yet she was. She was picturing herself there, walking on its streets, visiting her own painting in the Metropolitan…

  “What is it?” Lucas asked quietly, his perceptive gaze resting
on her. “You’re thinking of something.”

  Ellen gave a little laugh as she shook her head. “How do you know?”

  “I know you,” Lucas replied, and for some reason that simple statement had the power to render Ellen speechless.

  Lucas did know her… in a way that no one else ever had, not Jed, not Henry, not Rose or Caro or Amy or Ruby, her friends from Glasgow. He’d always seemed to guess her thoughts before she’d realized them herself, and he’d encouraged and even pushed her when, out of fear, she would have stayed still.

  “I’ve had an invitation,” she admitted quietly. “And I don’t know what to do with it.”

  “An invitation?”

  “To stay in New York City for a few weeks. Elvira Frampton, who holidayed here, has invited me to stay for the month of September. She believes she can arrange an exhibit of some of my sketches—just little ones I’ve done, to give an example of perspective, or something like that. Nothing will come of it, I’m sure.” She wanted to tell Lucas about Starlit Sea being exhibited at the Metropolitan Museum of Art, but it sounded boastful and so she kept silent. In any case, Lucas was staring at her incredulously, and Ellen gave a small, self-conscious laugh. “What is it?”

  “Ellen, that’s marvelous, truly marvelous!” He reached for both her hands, taking them in his own. “I’m so pleased for you. Of course I’m not surprised. Not surprised one bit.”

  “I wasn’t planning on going,” Ellen told him, and he frowned.

  “Not go? But why?”