by Kit Pearson
He looked up and shook Emily’s hand, but his expression was sulky.
“You’re the boy who took my hat!” cried Emily.
“What hat?”
“At church. We were waiting outside and you caught my hat and threw it into a tree!”
“That was naughty of you, Jack,” said Kitty.
Jack scowled. “It was only a game.”
He and Emily glared at each other. He doesn’t like me being here, thought Emily. She resented Jack, as well; she’d forgotten that she and Kitty wouldn’t be alone anymore.
Jack became friendlier as he asked, “Would you girls like to play a game of croquet? You can be one team and I’ll be the other. I’ll beat you both!”
“Not now,” said Kitty. “Emily and I are going out in the rowboat.”
“We are?” said Emily.
“You are?” said Jack. “But you’re not allowed to take the boat out on your own!”
“Papa says I can now. I asked him in my last letter and Mama just got a reply back giving his permission. The sea is calm. I’ll ask Song to put the boat in the water for me.”
Immediately Jack asked, “May I come?”
“Not this time. Emily is going home tomorrow—this is the last time we have together.”
“That’s not fair!”
Kitty ignored him. She told Emily to wait on the wharf and went to find Song.
Emily was still clutching her grimy pinafore. On the way down to the water she scrunched it into a ball then pushed it under a bush. There—gone for good!
Sitting on the wharf, she stroked the smooth wood of the rowboat. The last time she had been on the water was for the May 24 Regatta. Mr. and Mrs. Bales had invited Father and Emily and Alice to go in their boat to watch the races in the inlet. The sea had been crowded with many kinds of crafts, while bands played from the shore. The Indian canoes had been the fastest, as ten men in each one paddled in perfect harmony.
We rowed right by this wharf! Emily realized. It seemed so odd that she hadn’t known Kitty then.
After Song had set the boat in the water, Kitty told Emily to get in first and sit in the stern.
“Do you really know how to row?” Emily asked her. “Can you teach me?”
“I’m an excellent rower—Papa taught me. I’ll let you try once we’re on our way.” Kitty lowered herself into the middle seat, untied the painter, and pushed off the boat.
Emily leaned back with satisfaction. The day was special again. Mother was better, and she and Kitty were back to being friends.
FOURTEEN
Kitty had always loved this first moment afloat. And now, for the first time, she was controlling the boat on her own. It was so kind of dear Papa to grant her request.
Several boats were heading up the inlet before the tide turned. They were laden with picnic baskets and laughing people who waved as they passed. Someone was playing “Skip to My Lou” on a mouth organ. Kitty pulled on the oars evenly with barely a splash. The fresh-smelling air calmed her.
Once again she had clashed with Mama. “I’m sorry, Puss, but I don’t think it’s suitable to have the Carr girls stay for dinner,” Mama had told her. “Their father is in trade.”
Kitty had bristled. “But, Mama, he owns eight acres and they have a lovely house—I saw it!”
“Nevertheless, they are not of our class.”
What a snob Mama was! Kitty had stiffly reminded her that Papa wouldn’t care about what Mr. Carr did for a living. Then Mama had reluctantly given in.
I hope Mama will be welcoming, thought Kitty. At least Kitty had Emily back. As soon as she’d appeared at the door, Kitty had been filled with shame. It wasn’t Emily’s fault that she had discovered Mrs. Tolliver’s trick.
She watched Emily’s glee as she scooped up a leaf that floated by. The younger girl did everything with such passion and attention. Her rosy face shone with bliss.
Emily felt like a real friend now. But she wasn’t Pop. Pop had gone for good.
They changed places carefully and Kitty tried to teach Emily how to row, but Emily splashed so much that she soon gave up. She went back to the stern and trailed one hand in the water as Kitty carried on steadily.
“Look!” cried Emily. An otter was swimming beside them, half submerged. Then it sank.
Kitty wondered if it was the one she had seen this morning. “I’m very fond of otters,” she told Emily. “Sometimes I think I’d like to be one.” She had never told anyone this—not even Pop.
“I would be a raven,” said Emily. “Or maybe a swallow. Some kind of bird, anyhow. Then I could fly!” A nearby gull cackled as if it were mocking this conceit.
Forward, pull, forward, pull . . . The oars’ rhythm soothed Kitty. “Mama found out about us going to see Mrs. Tolliver,” she said.
Emily gasped. “She did?”
Kitty nodded. “My aunt spotted us in town and told her.”
“Was she angry with you?”
“Yes. She was even angrier at Mrs. Tolliver for tricking us.”
Emily looked ashamed. “I’m sorry I told you about that. I’m sorry I ruined it all. I have a bad temper. Often I get angry when I don’t mean to.”
“I’m glad you told me,” said Kitty. “Yes, it was ruined . . . but it wasn’t true! Mama is going to see Mrs. Tolliver tomorrow to get my money back.”
“Good!”
“Mrs. Tolliver ended up being kind to me, though,” said Kitty, “and it’s sad that she won’t get any money when she so obviously needs it.”
“She doesn’t deserve it,” said Emily. “It was wicked how she and her sister tricked you. Oh!”
“What?”
“Kitty, that means she must have tricked Tallie, as well! Maybe Mr. Nicholles isn’t the right man for her after all . . . but they’re getting married next year!”
“I’m sure it will be all right, Emily. They must love each other if they are betrothed.”
“I don’t love him,” said Emily. “He treats me like a little child. Oh, well. There’s no point in saying anything. They wouldn’t listen to me.” Her frown turned to delight as she cried, “Look at the goose family all in a line! One, two . . . eleven of them!”
After they’d passed the geese, Kitty said, “What’s strange is how sure I was. I was absolutely convinced that it was Pop’s voice—it sounded completely real. I’m ashamed that I was so easy to fool.”
“Don’t feel ashamed,” said Emily. “You couldn’t help believing it was your sister. It’s because you miss her so much.”
“Yes,” Kitty whispered. Steering close to shore to avoid a large boat, she passed under a low-branched tree. The early-evening sun turned it into a dazzling green canopy. Kitty felt so detached from its beauty that she almost pinched her hand to make sure she was real.
“Do you still think that your sister is here?” asked Emily.
Kitty shook her head. “That was a kind of trick, too—a trick I played on myself. I made up Pop. I imagined that she was with me to comfort myself. But now I miss her more than ever because now she’s really gone.”
Emily was listening so intently that Kitty wanted to spill out all of her confusion to her. They had only known each other for one day, but it felt as though they had been friends forever.
Kitty stopped rowing and let the slow current carry them along. “Oh, Emily . . . where is Pop? Mama says she’s in heaven with God, but is there really a heaven? Is there really a God?”
Emily looked indignant. “Of course there is!”
I shouldn’t be asking her such things, thought Kitty. She’s too young.
Emily leaned forward. “Would you like to know what I think about God?”
“Of course I would.” Kitty smiled, prepared to hear a Sunday-school version.
“I absolutely believe in God, but I don’t think he’s the God that Father and Dede and Lizzie believe in. He’s not stern and he isn’t just in heaven. He’s right here!” Emily waved her hands in the air. “God is the sky and the trees
and the water. And the raven and the otter and—and what happens when you paint a beautiful picture. And when people or animals die, they become part of God, so they become part of all of his creation—so they’re with us all the time. That’s what I think.”
Kitty was astounded. “How can you know this?” she asked. “You’re only nine!”
“I don’t know how—I always have,” said Emily calmly.
“I wish I could believe that,” Kitty said enviously. “It’s what I heard Pop tell me at Mrs. Tolliver’s, that she was with me all the time. But of course she didn’t really say that,” she added bitterly.
“No . . . but couldn’t you believe it anyway?”
“I can’t! Pop just feels . . . gone. I’ve lost her, and I’ll never get her back. And next March I’m going to lose my home, as well!”
“You mean when you go to school in England?”
Kitty nodded, trying not to cry.
“I wouldn’t want to go to England, either,” said Emily. “My parents are from there and they talk about it a lot, but it sounds dreary. Still, I do want to travel one day. Do you know where I’d like to go to the most?”
“Where?”
“To the northern part of the island. Father went there once, on a cruise with some other businessmen. They were allowed to bring their families, so he took Lizzie and Alice. They said I was too young to go, but I wasn’t! I would have been fine. They saw so many amazing things—bears and whales and bald eagles and white owls. And Indian villages and trees so tall and thick that they could hardly be cut. I really, really want to see that one day.”
Emily’s eyes were as bright as the water. Kitty smiled. “If you want to go there so much, I’m sure you will.” She sighed. “But I don’t ever want to leave Victoria. I love our house and garden and living on the water. I’ve begged and begged not to go, but Mama and Papa insist we’ll get a better education in England.”
They were silent. Kitty picked up the oars and manoeuvred the boat around some rocks. A heron was perched on one, peering at the water. He flapped away with an angry squawk.
“Can I tell you something?” asked Emily.
“Of course.”
“Even though Mother is better, I’m worried that she’ll get sick again. She has something called toober . . . toober—”
“Tuberculosis,” said Kitty softly. “Oh, poor Emily!’
“Yes, that’s it. I’m not supposed to know, but I heard Father and Dr. Helmcken talking about it. It keeps getting worse. Even on her best days Mother spends a lot of time resting, and sometimes she can hardly catch her breath. I think she almost d-died this time. Before we left, I heard Lizzie whisper to Tallie that God was waiting for her. What if the next time she’s ill, she does die? How could I bear it? How could I not have a mother?”
Kitty shuddered. No matter how trying Mama was, she was Kitty’s anchor.
She reached forward and patted Emily’s knee. “I’m so sorry, Emily. I suppose you just have to trust. You have to trust that your mother will be spared.” She paused. “And because she’s so fragile, you have to appreciate the time you have with her.” Kitty hated her own words. They sounded so false, but she didn’t know what else to say.
Emily wiped her eyes. “I suppose so. It’s so hard, though, to carry on and not think about what might happen. I try not to, but I can’t help it.”
“It must be hard. I’m sorry you have that burden.” Once again, Kitty was grateful that she hadn’t known Pop was going to die.
Poor little Emily. If she lost her mother, she would know the darkness that Kitty did. Kitty hoped it would be a long, long time before that happened.
She took up the oars again. “We’d better go back before the tide turns.”
Being out on the water was such a tonic, but now Kitty was rowing back to a different life—one without Pop.
And yet a beautiful summer evening waited for her. Her new friend was here for dinner—and who knew when Kitty would see her again? With each stroke Kitty resolved to be a cheerful friend, daughter, and sister. It would all just be an act . . . but that was now her life.
FIFTEEN
Emily was grateful to be ashore. All this talk about God and death was too serious for such a bright evening. And Kitty herself was so gloomy, like a weary adult. It was as if she had grown much older in the short time they had been apart.
The trees’ shadows stretched far across the lawn. The sun was low, but its intense light sharpened every leaf and petal and blade. Despite her hat, Emily had to shade her face against its glare.
Jack was waiting for them on the lawn. He thrust a box at Emily. When she opened it, a little snake reared its head.
“The poor creature!” said Emily. “You shouldn’t keep it in a box with no food or water.” She picked up the snake and stroked its dry, mottled skin. Then she walked to the bushes and gently laid it on the ground.
“No!” Jack rushed over, but the snake had slithered away. Jack thrashed through the leaves for a few minutes then came back and faced Emily, his face ruddy. “How dare you let my snake go! It was mine! I’m going to tell Mama.”
“Then I’ll tell her you didn’t release it when she asked you to,” said Kitty.
Jack looked from one to the other. He was a handsome boy, with fair hair and bright blue eyes, taller than Emily even though he was younger. He seemed much younger, however, kicking the ground with his eyes full of tears. What a baby! thought Emily. Even little Dick wouldn’t act like this.
“Come, Emily, let’s wash our hands before dinner.” Kitty led her away.
After she had used the basin in Kitty’s room, Emily sneaked a look at her painting again. It was even more beautiful than she remembered. She could hardly wait to show it to Alice.
Emily coughed on her first mouthful of dinner. It was lamb in a rich sauce, so hot and spicy that it sent fumes up Emily’s nose.
“Oh, dear . . . I should have warned you!” laughed Mrs. O’Reilly. “I like to use lots of spices in my cooking. I’m always in the kitchen adding them to Chin’s dishes. There’s coriander and curry powder in the sauce. Have a drink of water and give it another try.”
Emily took a sip of water and then had a much smaller mouthful. She swirled the lamb around her mouth and got used to the new tastes. After swallowing, she looked up. “I like it,” she said shyly.
“Good,” said Mrs. O’Reilly. “You’re a brave eater.”
“Tell Emily why you like to cook with spices, Mama,” said Kitty.
“I lived in India for a while,” explained Mrs. O’Reilly. “I was visiting my sister in Madras and that’s where I learnt Indian cooking.”
Her voice was as rich and spicy as the food. Emily kept stealing glances at her. Mrs. O’Reilly was so elegant! She was much younger than Emily’s mother. Heavy dark hair swept down like wings on each side of her face and was pinned lightly at the back. Her deep-set eyes were the same grey as Kitty’s. Her flounced lavender dress was fancy for a summer dinner with her family. She had looked Emily over haughtily when they were introduced, but her voice had warmed when she said she was glad that Emily’s mother was better.
Along with the savoury lamb, Emily was served asparagus, baby carrots glazed with butter, and tiny new potatoes sprinkled with chives. She carefully managed her heavy knife and fork—Dede would be proud of her. She made herself take ladylike bites, even though she longed to gobble the tasty meal as fast as she could.
Jack was teasing his mother about how fast she had run away from a wasp at the picnic.
“Why, Mama, I’ve never seen you run before,” said Kitty. “Perhaps you should enter the Dominion Day race!”
Emily couldn’t believe how freely they talked to their mother. At home they never had such easy conversations at the table. Father and Dede did all the talking and the rest of the family just listened.
“There was a new rat in my trap, Mama,” said Jack. “So you owe me a penny.”
“Good for you, my little man! What would
we do without you? I’m sure the garden would be overrun with rats if you weren’t catching them every day.”
Emily frowned. What a cruel boy Jack was! He seemed to think that innocent animals existed for capturing in boxes and traps.
Jack looked proud. “I figure that if I catch a rat every day this summer, I’ll have earned about sixty cents by September. Then I could buy a pocket knife. I know you don’t want me to have one, Mama, but if I was paying for it with my own money, couldn’t I? Please? Joe has one.”
“We’ll see,” said his mother. “Now, stop chattering and eat up your vegetables.”
“Can I have some more lamb first? The only way I can stomach all these vegetables is to put lots of sauce on them.”
“May I . . . very well.” Mrs. O’Reilly took his plate and gave him more lamb. “Emily, would you like some more, as well?”
“Yes, please,” said Emily. The curry was a magic potion, bringing out the earthy taste of the meat. She wished she could have some spices to take home, but Father wouldn’t approve. He liked what he called “good plain food.”
Beside her, Jack was eating his lamb and smothering his vegetables in the sauce but leaving them untouched. He shifted restlessly in his chair, waving his knife around and swinging his legs. He completely ignored Emily, as if she weren’t there. “After dinner, do you want to play croquet?” he asked Kitty.
“Only if Emily wants to,” said Kitty.
“We will all play,” said Mrs. O’Reilly. “It’s such a beautiful, warm evening we should spend it outside. Jack, please stop wriggling and listen to me. I had a letter from Papa, which I’ve already read to Kitty. He says the mosquitoes in Yale have been dreadful. He sends his best love to you. And he misses us all very much.”
“Oh, how I miss him!” said Kitty.
“I miss him, too,” whined Jack.
The way he said it made it sound like a competition, not as if he really missed his father. Emily could already tell, in this short time with them, that Kitty was closer to her father and Jack to his mother.
To whom was she closest? She adored gentle Mother, but she had much more in common with Father. He usually indulged her, except when he was having one of his gout attacks. Then the whole household tried to stay away from his rage.
