by Hewitt, Kate
“You are an artist,” Clara said. “That is what we are looking for.”
“Yes, but…” Ellen shook her head.
“What are you afraid of, Ellen?” Elvira interjected. “If Miss Spence is confident in your capabilities, then so should you be.”
Was she afraid? Was that what this was about? She thought of Lucas, who would have told her something similar. He’d want her to grab such an opportunity with both hands… wouldn’t he? Why did that thought make her feel so unsettled?
“I must think on it,” she said, and both Clara and Elvira hastened to reassure her that was indeed a wise course of action.
“You’re very quiet, Ellen,” Elvira remarked as they headed back across the city to the Frampton mansion.
“I am feeling a bit overwhelmed by this sudden opportunity,” Ellen admitted. “I never dreamed such a thing could happen.”
“Isn’t it thrilling?”
Elvira looked so pleased that Ellen felt a flash of guilt that she was not tripping over herself with gratitude. “Thank you, Elvira,” she said, laying her hand on the older woman’s arm. “You’ve been so very kind, in so many ways. I really cannot thank you enough.”
“Thank me by taking the position,” Elvira said lightly, and Ellen merely smiled. She was not ready to make any commitments just yet.
As they came into the house, Elvira glanced through the post and then slit open an envelope with a silver letter knife.
“Look, Ellen,” she exclaimed, waving the single sheet in excitement. “Your sketches are going to be exhibited at the gallery in October.”
“Oh my goodness…” Ellen had not really expected the possibility of an exhibition to become reality. “I don’t know what to say…”
“It’s all happening, isn’t it?” Elvira said happily as she showed Ellen the letter. “A position as a teacher… an exhibition at a gallery… isn’t it obvious, Ellen? Your life is here now.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
“A penny for your thoughts.”
Ellen turned to smile at Will, although she could tell from the look on his face that he wasn’t convinced by her attempt at good humor.
“How about a nickel, then?” he asked lightly as they strolled through Central Park. The heat had broken and the day was bright and clear, with an autumnal crispness to it. “Or, I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you a whole dollar.” He pulled a crisp one-dollar bill from his wallet and Ellen laughed and shook her head.
“I’ll give them to you for free, Will. The truth is, I need to make an important decision and I feel very conflicted about it.” Just confessing that much had her stomach clenching with anxiety.
It had been three days since Elvira Frampton and Clara Spence had shocked her with the unexpected proposal that she become Mistress of Art at the school, a permanent full-time post, and live in New York City. With the promise of an exhibition as well, it seemed as if her life in New York was lining up perfectly. So why did she feel so torn?
Ellen had thought of little else since the proposal had been put to her, and yet three days on she felt no nearer a decision than she had been in Clara Spence’s study.
“I think I can guess what this important decision is,” Will said. They were strolling through Central Park, along the terrace by the Fountain of the Angel of Bethesda, one of the first pieces of artwork created by a woman in the park. It was a splendid sight, with a wide terrace in front of the imposing statue with her beatific face and outstretched wings in the middle of the fountain, and a stone staircase leading up to the street above, where motorcars trundled by.
“Can you?” Ellen looked at him in surprise. “Who has been telling tales about me now, then?”
“New York can seem like a very small place sometimes. I heard from a friend of a friend of my mother’s that Miss Spence is looking for a new teacher of art. I imagine that might be you?” A teasing smile curved his lips as he eyed her speculatively.
“It really is a small place.” Ellen shook her head as she gave a wry laugh. “I can’t have any secrets, can I?”
“Do you want to have them from me?” A serious note crept into his voice that had Ellen looking away. She and Will had only been friends for a few weeks, but it had sprung up with surprising intensity, perhaps based on their shared experiences of the war. More recently, she had begun to wonder if his feelings ran deeper—and, in truth, she wasn’t sure whether she wanted them to or not. She’d assumed at the beginning that she held no romantic affection for him, but now, as the shimmering possibility of a life in New York stretched before her, she wondered if her feelings for Will could change—and grow.
There was so much she wasn’t sure of, so many torturous what-ifs in her mind, about living one sort of life or a very different one. How could she possibly decide?
“Since it seems I don’t, I might as well tell you all of it,” Ellen said, sidestepping his rather intimate question. “Miss Spence has indeed offered me the position, and my friend Mrs. Frampton has offered me lodgings at her house, or if I prefer, she can help me to find my own apartment.” Ellen shook her head, torn between exasperation and a flickering excitement—her own apartment in New York! She pictured herself teaching pupils, going to art exhibitions or the theater, living the life of a young cosmopolitan woman. A flapper, even! It seemed absurd, and yet also exciting. “She’s also arranged for an exhibition of my sketches here in the city, in October.”
“Ellen, that’s wonderful!” Smiling with buoyant, boyish enthusiasm, Will briefly caught her hands in his. “Aren’t you thrilled?”
“I should be, shouldn’t I?” Ellen stared at him rather despairingly as she slipped her hands from his. On the one hand, it felt as if she were being given everything she’d ever wanted on a shining silver platter… and on the other, she felt like Eve, about to take that first, juicy bite of the destructive apple. How could she turn her back on the McCaffertys, the Lymans, her beloved island, all of it, and pursue her own life here in the city? It felt wrong at the most fundamental level of her being, and yet she knew she was tempted, and Will saw it in her face.
“To be honest, Ellen, I don’t really see the conflict.” He thrust his hands into his pockets and gave her a smile touched by wry whimsy. “Why would you turn down such a superlative offer? A full-time position, a place to live, and opportunities to showcase your artwork. Not to mention the city’s most eligible bachelor to escort you to whatever function you chose.” He grinned to show he was joking, although Ellen wasn’t entirely sure he was. “What’s really holding you back?” he asked more seriously.
“Amherst Island is my home,” Ellen answered, a throb of emotion pulsing in her voice. “I moved there when I was thirteen years old, nearly an orphan, and the McCaffertys welcomed me like one of their own. It’s the only place I’ve ever felt completely accepted and safe.” And yet she hadn’t felt either of those more recently… but that was her own doubt and insecurity, not because she wasn’t. Still, it made her wonder.
“Does living in New York change any of that?” Will asked with a shrug.
“No, I suppose it doesn’t,” Ellen answered slowly, “but I don’t want to simply abandon them.”
“Fair enough, but what would really keep you on the island?” He cocked his head, his gaze sweeping over her with slow and thorough assessment. “You said yourself there is little work, and the McCaffertys are struggling on their farm as it is. Can you really see yourself there in the long term, Ellen, past the next few months or years, struggling to make ends meet and offering painting holidays to bored housewives?”
Ellen looked away, not wanting to answer his question. She didn’t even want to think about the answer, and yet it was already written on her heart. She’d returned to the island, emotionally battered after the war, and the comfort and familiarity, the love and affection of the McCaffertys, had soothed and restored her.
But she’d known all along, if she’d only been willing to face it, that it wasn’t a permanent solution, just a
s the art holidays they’d been offering weren’t. The holidays could tide them over for a while, but Ellen had a sure and leaden feeling that they wouldn’t be able to make Jasper Lane a going concern in the long run. She sighed heavily.
“Ellen.” Gently, Will took her by the shoulders. “What is it you’re afraid of, really?”
She resisted the urge to either wrench away from him or melt in his embrace. “I’m not afraid.”
“Then what is keeping you on that island? If it’s not work and it’s not a house or home, then it must be a person.” A light came into his eyes, followed by a shadow. “Is it a man?”
“There’s no one like that, Will.” Ellen stepped back from him and he dropped his hands. “There hasn’t been for a long time.”
“Are you sure about that?”
Was she? In her mind’s eye, she first pictured Jed, his face so often cast in sullen lines. He was married to Louisa, even if they were estranged. No matter what feelings still remained on her part, she knew Jed couldn’t ever be for her. She kept telling herself that, and yet she remembered the way he’d smiled at her in the kitchen, and every emotion inside her became impossibly tangled.
Did she still love Jed, or did she just yearn for the attention and admiration from him that she hadn’t received, all those years ago? She really didn’t know.
“Your silence tells me everything I need to know,” Will said quietly. “Whether you’ve admitted it to yourself or not.”
“There’s nothing to admit, Will—” Yet for some reason then, she found herself thinking not of Jed, but Lucas. Lucas, with his kind eyes and wry smile, his gentleness and his constancy. Lucas…
“There is someone,” Will stated flatly. “I wonder if even you know who it is.”
Will’s words reverberated through Ellen for several days as she continued to wrestle with the question of whether to stay or to go. I wonder if even you know who it is. Her mind kept skirting around the remark, skating nearer and then darting away. She realized she didn’t want to think too closely as to what—or whom—he could have meant, and she didn’t even know why. What was she afraid of, for surely it was something?
And then it came to her as she stood on the edge of another ballroom, doing her best to be invisible. The city’s social season was starting in earnest after an empty August, and Elvira had insisted Ellen attend.
“You know, you really aren’t a wallflower, as much as you try to be,” Will remarked as he came to stand next to her, by a potted palm.
“I don’t want to be a wallflower,” Ellen protested. “I just don’t belong here.”
“You seem to believe you don’t belong anywhere,” Will replied. “All things considered.”
Ever the orphan. It was the remark Lucas had made, and the truth of it shook Ellen to her core. Was that what she was afraid of—the thing she most longed for? Belonging. Somewhere. Anywhere.
“Dance with me?” Will asked, and Ellen nodded, grateful for the distraction. As they took to the floor, he gave her a wry yet serious look. “You’ve decided, haven’t you?”
“I… have,” Ellen said slowly, because she hadn’t until that moment, and yet she realized she’d known all along, and the realization was a relief.
Will gave a small, sorrowful smile. “I’m not surprised, but I am sorry. We could have had such a fabulous time, Ellen.”
“You’ll always be a good friend, Will—”
“I think you know I was toying with the idea of more than that,” he said lightly, and Ellen smiled, even though her heart was aching.
“You need a proper society wife.”
“I think that’s exactly what I don’t need. But don’t worry, my heart isn’t broken, at least not all the way through. The truth is, if you decided not to stay, and I was pretty sure you would, I told myself I’d move on as well.”
“What?” Ellen stared at him in shock. “Where will you go?”
“I’ve been offered the chance to finish my studies at Stanford University, out in California. I know I’m a bit old now to be an undergraduate, but I’ve always fancied living in the land of eternal sunshine, and I reckon I ought to turn my hand to something worthwhile.”
“Oh, Will,” Ellen exclaimed with genuine pleasure, “I’m so glad for you.”
He shrugged. “A man has to do something with his time. But enough about me.” He gave her a frank, serious look. “When do you leave?”
“As soon as I can book the train fare.” As she said the words, she realized how much she meant them. “I need to go home. But how did you know?”
“I think I always knew,” Will answered. “I just didn’t want to.” He spun her around as he added lightly, “I really could have fallen in love with you, you know.”
“But you didn’t,” Ellen returned unsteadily.
“No, but it was a close-run thing.” The music ended and Will returned her to the side of the ballroom, a wry smile touching his lips. “A very close-run thing, my little wallflower,” he said softly, and kissed her cheek. “Now we’ll both be having adventures, and my own is in more than a small part thanks to you. You’ve helped me, Ellen. You’ve made me want to live again, or at least to try. I hope you’re a good letter writer.”
“I am,” Ellen assured him, her voice clogged with tears. She would miss Will terribly, she realized.
“Well, I’ll be honest with you,” Will said. “I’m not. But I’ll try, Ellen.” He paused, his warm gaze resting on her face. “I’ll try,” he said again, and she knew he meant more than writing letters, just as she knew this was farewell, and as poignantly bittersweet as that felt, a new determination had taken hold of her. She was going home, where she belonged.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Three days later, Ellen was packing her bags to return to Amherst Island. Elvira Frampton had begged her to stay on even just a few more weeks, but Ellen was resolute.
“I need to go home, Elvira. As much as I’ve loved it here, I need to go back to the island. That’s where I belong. It always has been.”
“But you haven’t turned down Miss Spence’s offer?” Elvira exclaimed with unaccustomed desperation. “I do think it would be such a perfect fit for you, Ellen.”
“I haven’t turned it down,” Ellen answered with a small smile. Clara Spence hadn’t let her. She’d encouraged Ellen to return to the island for a week or two, and then tell her.
“The term doesn’t begin for another few weeks, and I have yet to find any suitable candidates for the position.” Clara had given her a smile full of understanding when Ellen had stopped by the school to give her decision in person. “Sometimes you need to return home to realize what you really want.”
Ellen could only hope that was true. At the moment, with her bags packed and her heart twisting within her, her feelings remained in a positive ferment. She still had no true idea of what she wanted… what—or whom—she dared to want. She just hoped she would realize it when she returned to the island.
“You will come back,” Elvira said fiercely, sniffing as she pulled Ellen into a tight embrace. “I’ve so enjoyed having you here, and you must know how much is waiting for you here.” She pulled back to give Ellen a look full of meaning. “I am not the only one who will miss you.”
Ellen knew Elvira was referring, none too subtly, to Will, and the memory of his farewell brought a lump to her throat. She hoped he found all he was looking for in California, and she rather thought he would.
That lump was still lodged firmly there as she said her goodbyes to the Framptons and climbed into the back seat of the Pierce-Arrow that would take her to Grand Central Station. She’d become so used to the sights and sounds and even the smells of the city, the whole lively, chaotic blur of it, and as much as she ached for the island’s peaceful quiet, she knew she’d miss New York’s energized, frenetic life. Yet she was ready to return, and see if the island truly was the home she believed it to be.
The hours slipped by on the train, and it was late afternoon when Ellen st
epped onto the platform at Ogdensburg, and nearly dusk by the time she reached the ferry landing for the island. The sight of the familiar blue-green waters of Lake Ontario lapping against the rocky shore, the island a green smudge in the distance, nearly brought tears to her eyes. The air smelled fresh and sun-warmed, touched with the sharp tang of cedar, so different from the city’s smog-choked fumes. The fading sunlight poured syrup over everything, soaking the world in golden light.
Relief filled her heart, as well as excitement to finally be returning to the place—and maybe even the person—where she belonged.
“Ellen?”
Ellen stiffened at the sound of the strangely familiar voice, and then slowly she turned, her heart turning over in shock. On the dock, waiting for the ferry as she was, stood her friend from former years, decked out in the latest fashionable frippery, a jaunty hat perched on her still burnished, chestnut curls, her dropped-waist ankle-skimming dress the very latest in style.
“Louisa?” Ellen said faintly. She could hardly believe her old friend—Jed’s wife—was standing there. “What are you doing here?”
Louisa bristled, her thin shoulders stiffening. “Why shouldn’t I be here?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it like that.” Ellen’s mind was a jumble of mixed emotions; she was afraid to untangle them and realize what they were. “It’s only, I didn’t expect you. I thought…” But she realized she didn’t want to say what she had thought.
“What are you doing here?” Louisa challenged. “The last I heard, you were living in Glasgow.”
Somehow that stung, even though Ellen knew it shouldn’t. Had no one on the island told Louisa of her whereabouts, or had she not been in communication with anyone? Or was it that Louisa was simply being spiteful, pretending not to know where she’d been all these years, that no one had cared enough to tell her? Ellen knew from childhood experience how temperamental Louisa could be… but surely they’d both grown beyond that now. They were nearing thirty, for heaven’s sake. It was high time to put such childish notions aside.
