by Kit Pearson
Kitty was too stunned to listen. Maybe Emily was right. Maybe the bright streak in the sky was a sign from God—and from Pop. A sign of hope. Kitty could give in to the darkness. Or she could be like the comet and blaze through it.
She would always miss Pop, but now she had to release her. To heaven and God? To the beautiful earth? To both?
Kitty almost laughed out loud. She didn’t know, and she wasn’t meant to! Wherever Pop was, it was a mystery. So were God and heaven and the comet. Why should Kitty, who was only a human girl, have to figure it all out? It was much larger than she was, which was strangely comforting.
“Oh, Mama, do you think Papa can see it?” she said, wiping her eyes. “And Frank?”
“I hope so. Isn’t that a pleasant thought—that we are all looking at the comet at the same time!”
“I hope Alice is watching it,” said Emily. “And the rest of my family.”
“Well, if she isn’t, she can see it another night,” Mama told her. “Mr. Pemberton read in the paper that it was going to be around for a while.”
“Let’s look for it tomorrow!” said Kitty.
“Not every night, Puss. You’d be far too sleepy the next day.”
Kitty wondered when Mama would say that it was time for bed. They lingered in their chairs as the magical sky and the comet arched over them. Kitty was limp with peace. She would always miss Pop. She would always be sad, but the sadness was manageable—a weight that she could bear.
She gazed at Jack, curled up on the grass. When he was asleep, he looked so sweet and innocent. Kitty saw two things clearly: Mama indulged Jack to make up for not having Pop; and Kitty resented him because he wasn’t her sister.
But it wasn’t Jack’s fault that Pop had died. Jack was aggravating, but Kitty could try to be more loving. Soon she and Jack would be separated at their different English schools. This summer and fall would be the last time they had together.
“Now, Kitty . . .” Mama stood up. “I’ll carry this little man in to his bed, then you and I can walk Emily home.”
“Oh, Mama, mayn’t we go by ourselves? We could take a lantern.”
Mama hesitated but then said, “Very well. It’s right next door, after all. But don’t be long, Puss. Make sure Emily gets in, then hurry home. If you aren’t back soon, I’ll come looking for you.”
She held out her hand to Emily. “Good night, my dear. It’s been very nice to meet you and I’m glad we could share such a special event.”
Emily shook Mama’s hand and thanked her. “I have to get my painting and my feather,” she told Kitty. After they had fetched both, Kitty lit a lantern and they started towards the gate.
SEVENTEEN
Emily had struggled against sleep while they were waiting for the sky to darken. Whatever a comet was, she wanted to be the first one to spot it. And, despite dozing off, she had! It was as if something had nudged her to wake up and there it was, that remarkable bright slash in the sky. Since then she had felt electrified, as if the comet were a lightning bolt.
The comet was something that “passeth all understanding,” as Bishop Cridge said in Mother’s church. It was a secret, like the hidden secret in the forest; a whisper of the beauty around Emily that made her ache with longing.
They walked to the Cranes’ with the comet hung in the sky in front of them. Emily couldn’t keep her eyes off it. “Isn’t it wonderful?” she asked Kitty.
“Yes,” said Kitty simply. For the first time all day her voice sounded calm.
“If you hold my feather and painting, may I hold the lantern?” Emily asked. “I’m just a little afraid of the dark,” she confessed.
“I don’t mind the dark,” said Kitty.
Emily swung the lantern high, making the shadows dance.
“Be careful, or it will go out,” warned Kitty.
They walked more and more slowly, the glorious comet leading the way. Only once had Emily been up this late, a long time ago when she was out with Father. It had felt safe with him and it felt safe with Kitty.
When they reached the Cranes’ gate, they lingered there to prolong their last few moments together. “Kitty, I just remembered!” said Emily. “What about our fortunes?”
“Our fortunes?”
“You know, when Mrs. Tolliver read our palms! Do you think they’ll come true?” Then she remembered that Mrs. Tolliver was a cheat. “Probably not. She probably made them up, too.”
“What did she say? I was so nervous about hearing Pop I didn’t pay much attention.”
Emily tried to remember Mrs. Tolliver’s exact words. “She said you are a water person and I am an earth person. You’re going to have a long and happy life and I’m going to be famous. And neither of us is going to get married.”
“Oh!” cried Kitty, making Emily start.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just thought of something. If that’s true—if I never get married—then I can always live in my house!”
“I suppose you could,” said Emily.
“Oh, I hope my fortune comes true!”
Emily grinned. “Just make it come true. Just decide never to get married.”
“But everyone expects me to,” said Kitty. “Mama and Papa hope I’ll meet someone while we’re in England. I’ve heard them talk about it. They’ll introduce me to a suitable man and expect me to marry him.”
“Well, don’t!” said Emily.
“That won’t be easy,” said Kitty. “But after all, they can’t force me. They love me too much for that. I would like to have children, though. Oh, dear, it’s all so complicated. What about you, Emily? Do you want to get married?”
“I may or I may not,” said Emily loftily. “If I met a nice farmer who had a lot of animals, I’d marry him. I’ll just wait and see.” She paused. “Even if Mrs. Tolliver made it all up, I hope she’s right about me being famous.”
Kitty laughed, but in an affectionate way. “What would you be famous for?”
“Being a painter, of course! Even if I’m not famous, I’ll still be one. Will you?”
“Me?” Kitty sounded surprised. “Oh, no. Painting is a pleasant hobby, but it will never be a career.”
Emily tried not to sound superior. “Well, it will be for me.”
“I hope it will.” Kitty paused. “I’ve never seen anyone paint the way you do. I don’t understand your picture, but it has so much freshness and power. And you’re an excellent drawer. I think you will be famous!”
So Kitty liked Emily’s picture after all! Emily grinned at her in the dim light from the lantern. Kitty smiled back.
Then Kitty pointed out a light bobbing along the road. “There’s Mama, coming to meet me. Good night, Emily. I’ve really enjoyed spending this day with you.”
“So have I!” Emily hugged Kitty so strongly that Kitty laughed in protest. She pulled herself away and kissed Emily gently on the cheek.
“Goodbye!” she called over her shoulder, as she hurried down the road.
All the upstairs lights were out, but the drawing room was glowing; Mr. and Mrs. Crane must still be awake. The front door was unlocked. Emily pushed it open and crept into the hallway, hoping she could sneak up to her bedroom unobserved.
“At last!” Mrs. Crane came into the hall. “How very late you are, Millie! Mr. Crane was just about to go and fetch you. And you should have come and asked me if you could go to the O’Reillys’ for dinner, instead of having Alice inform me you were staying.”
“Sorry,” mumbled Emily, hanging her head. She was back to being Millie, the bad child who could do nothing right. It would be the same at home. Father would frown when she couldn’t repeat the Sunday sermon to him. Dede would scold her at every opportunity. Lizzie would set an impossibly good example, and even Alice would act superior. Only Mother would accept Emily just as she was.
But I won’t always be a child! she thought. When I’m grown up, I’ll do exactly what I want.
She made herself meet Mrs. Crane’s eyes. “We
were watching the comet! Did you see it?”
“No. We glanced outside a few times, but it was too light to see anything.”
Emily didn’t tell her it was now visible. Mrs. Crane didn’t deserve to see the comet!
“Off to bed with you, Millie,” said Mrs. Crane. “Be sure not to wake Alice.” She kissed Emily’s cheek before Emily could duck. Then she handed her a candle to guide her way upstairs.
When Emily reached their bedroom, she placed the candle by Alice’s bed and made as much noise as she could.
“Is that you, Millie?” asked Alice sleepily, as Emily dropped her shoe.
“Of course it’s me! Who else would it be? Oh, Alice, I saw the comet! It’s amazing! Come to the window and you can see it, too.”
“I’m too sleepy,” mumbled Alice.
Emily looked out. “I can’t find it from here. We’ll have to sneak outside.”
“I don’t want to,” said Alice, sitting up and yawning. “It’s far too late and someone might hear us.”
Emily gave up. “You don’t know what you’re missing! Oh, well. Mrs. O’Reilly’s friend said it would be here again. We’ll ask Father if we can watch for it. He’s sure to be interested.”
“Mmm” came from the bed.
“Look at my painting!” Emily took it over to her.
Alice examined it. “It’s really messy. Why didn’t you mop up those drips?”
Emily snatched it away before Alice could criticize it further. She placed it, and Raven’s feather, carefully beside the carpet bag then got into her nightdress.
“Did you remember to bring back your pinafore?” Alice asked.
“My pinafore!”
“Don’t shout—you’ll wake the girls.”
“I don’t care! Pinafores aren’t important!”
Alice smiled. “What’s important, then?”
Emily did knee jumps on the bed, making Alice giggle. Each word was one jump. “The comet! The sky, the stars, the moon, the sun! Trees and chickens and dogs and painting. That’s what’s important! Not pinafores!”
“All right, all right . . . I only asked. But pinafores are important, too—they keep children’s frocks clean. Little everyday things are just as important as big things like comets.”
Emily stopped jumping and gazed at Alice. Her hair was a rosy tangle around her neat, stubborn face.
She leapt upon Alice and started to tickle her. “You are important!” she said.
“Stop, stop!” When Emily finally did, Alice said fondly, “Oh, Millie, you’re such a goose. Come to bed now.”
“I will in a while. I’m just going to look at the stars.”
They kissed each other good-night; then Alice turned over and was instantly asleep.
EIGHTEEN
Kitty held Mama’s arm as they walked slowly along the road. Every few moments they stopped and took another look at the glowing streak behind them.
“I’ve never known a night so beautiful,” murmured Mama. “You will always remember it, Puss, because of the comet.”
And because of Emily, thought Kitty. She yawned. Sleepiness was overcoming her, but sleep would mean the end of this special day. Tomorrow would be ordinary again. Tomorrow she would have to begin her new life without Pop, and tomorrow would be one day closer to when she would have to leave her home.
“May we sit on the veranda for a few minutes?” she asked when they reached the house.
“Oh, Puss, it’s so late!” But Mama hung the lanterns from the railing and sat down on the swinging wicker chair. “Just for a few moments, then.”
Kitty couldn’t see the comet from here, but it was comforting to know that it was still in the sky. She squished in beside Mama and they swung gently. An owl called who who-who whooo? and a light wind made the candles flicker.
“Mama, why do we have to go to England?” Kitty asked.
Mama sighed. “Oh, Puss, we’ve been over this so many times. You know why—so you and Jack can get a better education.”
Kitty’s voice cracked. “But I don’t want to leave home! I love it here!”
Mama put her arm around Kitty. “I’m so glad, my darling, that you love this home that Papa and I have made for you. I love it, too. But England is a fine country. Its music and art and theater are far superior to Canada’s, and the countryside is beautiful. Think of how brave Papa is when he travels to the wilderness. You can be just as brave—I know you can.”
“But I’ll have to go to a strange new school,” said Kitty. “I won’t know anyone.”
“You are such good company, Puss, that you’ll quickly make friends. Lady Murray’s is an excellent school and you’ll meet many pleasant and interesting girls there.”
Kitty gave up. Mama would never change her mind. Kitty would have to leave her home; but at least now she wasn’t leaving Pop behind. She would carry Pop in her heart.
Kitty squeezed her mother’s hand. “It’s all right, Mama. I know I have to go away. But do you promise I’ll come back?” She had never asked this before.
Mama’s answer was guarded. “We . . . we can’t know what the future holds, can we, Puss? I hope that one day you will meet someone you love as much as I love your dear papa. If his home is in England, you will live there—but of course you will come and visit us often.” Her voice was teary. “How I will miss you if that happens! But we needn’t worry about it yet. Remember that while you’re at boarding school in London, I’ll be living there, too, at first. And Papa will visit as often as he can.”
She stroked Kitty’s hair. “I was afraid, as well, the first time I left home. At your age everything is confusing and frightening, and your life has been especially difficult with Pop’s death. But I promise you that things will get better. Think of how I was enriched by travelling to India and then to Canada! Life is an adventure, my darling. You don’t know what wonderful things may happen!”
A flame of excitement flickered within Kitty. Perhaps Mama was right. Life in England might be better than she expected.
But she would come back! Her decision was as distinct as her first sight of the comet. She would never marry and she would always live in this house. It was full of sad memories, but happy ones, too—like this day with Emily, and like all the loving times she had enjoyed with Pop and the rest of her family. Nothing in England could be as beautiful as lying in her comfortable room at night and listening to the lap of the water on the shore.
When Kitty returned to Victoria, she would be almost an adult. She could enjoy her friends, and all the interesting people her parents entertained, and participate in the culture of this growing young city. She would create a happy life for herself—here, in her beloved home. She would make it all come true . . . just as Emily had said.
Kitty got up and pulled her mother out of the swing. “Let’s go to bed now.” She picked up her lantern and led the way into the house.
NINETEEN
Emily blew out the candle and sat on the window seat. Tucking her cold feet under her nightdress, she stared at the dark sky. Stars were spilled across it like a myriad brilliant jewels. A breeze had come up, and the tips of the trees swayed. Across the water were a few faint lights from Indian bonfires. Even though she couldn’t see it, the comet was still out there.
An owl called who who-who whooo?
“Who cooks for you?” whispered Emily. That was what Mother had once told her the owl was asking.
Emily’s mind buzzed with all the events of the day. What a lot had happened! Mother had got better. Emily had tried watercolours. She had saved a bird’s life. She had had her palm read. She had decided to stop wearing pinafores. She had also decided she would be called Emily instead of Millie, but that would have to wait until she was grown up.
She had seen a comet! Most important, she had decided that she would be an artist. That was as certain as the brightness of the comet. One day she would discover the beautiful secret that always tantalized her. She would find it through painting.
How dif
ferent her painting was from Kitty’s! As different as they were from each other. Kitty and her art were tame and controlled. She, Emily, was—as Dede so often told her—like a wild animal. So was the wild painting she had done today.
The wildness—Emily’s demon—that was the despair of her family and teachers and adults like Mrs. Crane often got Emily into trouble. Everyone was always telling her she had to control it, to rein in both her anger and her enthusiasm.
But how could she do that and remain herself? The wildness was an essential part of her, the part that revelled in trees and animals and the amazing beauty she encountered every day. It was what came out through her fingers when she drew and painted.
Kitty had liked her painting, and Kitty liked Emily. Kitty was part of the proper world. Perhaps that meant that one day other people would like Emily’s art, as well.
Today Emily had made a new friend. Would Kitty remain a friend? She had said nothing about them meeting again. They probably wouldn’t. Kitty was too much older, their families didn’t meet socially and, anyway, she was going away.
She had been a friend for a day. A very special day that had ended with a mysterious visitor illuminating the night. A day of signs and wonders.
AFTERWORD
Emily Carr and Kathleen O’Reilly actually existed. Here is what happened to them in real life after the end of the events in this novel.
Emily’s mother died in 1886, when Emily was fourteen. Her father died two years later and Dede became the head of the household. Emily escaped her oldest sister’s strict rule by attending art school in San Francisco. She later studied art in England and France, as well. The training of her teachers at first made Emily’s art as conventional as that of Kathleen’s. Gradually she found a truer style, when she began to make trips to the northern part of Vancouver Island to sketch the First Nations villages she found there. In her youth she fell passionately in love with a man whose identity is unknown. Her love was not returned. Later she refused several proposals. Emily struggled with money throughout most of her life. She barely painted during the many years she ran a boarding house to support herself. Only when she was in her mid-fifties, after she was introduced to and encouraged by the Group of Seven, did she paint the stunning and mystical landscapes for which she became most famous. At this time she also began to write her semi-autobiographical stories. She received a Governor General’s Award for her first book, Klee Wyck. Emily lived in Victoria for most of her life. She raised dogs and kept birds and was devoted to her monkey, Woo. She remained close to her sister, Alice, who became a teacher. They shared a house in their old age. Emily died in 1945 at age seventy-four. She is regarded as Canada’s most famous female artist. You can read more about her in the two biographies by Maria Tippett and Paula Blanchard, and in Emily’s own books, especially The Book of Small; Growing Pains: An Autobiography; and Hundreds and Thousands: The Journals of an Artist.
