Maud

by Melanie Fishbane

  “Do you?” His ears perked up when he grinned.

  Maud reached into her satchel and pulled out her copy of Little Women. “It is only fair we exchange books.” She held onto it. To lend him her favorite book was almost too intimate. She had underlined moving passages. Perhaps it would reveal too much. But she knew by the way he was looking at her now and the book in her hands that she could trust him. “This is my favorite book,” she said out loud, as if to make it clear to both of them what she was doing. “And while you might think it is silly—”

  “I only said—”

  “I know what you said.” She paused. “But I would like to sway your opinion.”

  Their fingers brushed together as he took it. “I look forward to having it swayed,” he said.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  As Maud and Nate went inside, she was relieved to find that not much had changed in the new schoolhouse: five rows of desks neatly lined across the room, which smelled like sunshine, polish, and chalk. The younger children sat in the front row, while the older ones sat toward the back.

  Mollie waved them over. Maud gladly took the seat beside her, and Nate took his seat beside Jack, behind them. Clemmie’s group—Annie, Mamie, and Nellie—sat in front of Maud, while Lu was in the second row with the others in her level.

  Maud couldn’t believe she had been so bold, lending Nate her favorite book. Would Nate get any silly ideas? Perhaps see himself as her Laurie, the wealthy boy next door who came from away? She certainly couldn’t ask for it back now. There would be too many questions. She would put it out of her mind. But Nate joking with Jack behind her was rather distracting.

  Miss Gordon turned around and clapped her hands, bringing the class to order. She wore her hair stylishly in a tight bun on top of her head, and was dressed in a long brown skirt with a matching high-necked bodice. She had nothing of Miss Robinson’s sourness, and there was a wise mischievousness about her that Maud found immediately appealing. Yes, Miss Gordon was definitely her style.

  As she walked toward them, her skirt brushed the floor. “I’m looking forward to learning how to help you succeed in the future.” It felt as if her new teacher was looking directly at her.

  Deep down, Maud worried that if she didn’t get married, the responsibility of taking care of her grandparents would fall to her. And while it was expected she would marry, the idea wasn’t appealing. Not right now anyway. Her Aunt Emily had appeared so tired when Maud had visited her in Malpeque, tending to her children, her husband, and her home. Maud wanted to see things, do things, and write about those things. She wasn’t sure yet how, but if Louisa May Alcott, who had fewer opportunities than she did, could do it, maybe, just maybe, Maud could write too.

  “Lucy Maud Montgomery.”

  Maud cleared her throat. “Present.” She paused. “But everyone calls me Maud.”

  “Of course.” Miss Gordon penned something in her notebook and continued to call names. “Nathan Spurr.”

  Maud couldn’t help herself; she turned around when Nate’s name was called, though she tried to not look at her copy of Little Women on his desk.

  “Present.” His smile showed the completely charming space between his teeth. “But, Miss Gordon, could you please change your record to reflect a recent name change? I had hoped my mother would have spoken to you about it.”

  Maud and Mollie exchanged a look. Nate’s attention was on Miss Gordon, but Maud was certain his gaze was on her. “I’ve decided to change my last name back to my father’s surname, Lockhart.”

  Mollie grabbed Maud’s hand underneath the desk. When he was small, Nate had been adopted by Reverend Spurr when he married Nate’s mother. Nate’s father, Nathaniel Lockhart, was a ship captain who went missing when the now Mrs. Spurr was pregnant.

  Did you know about this? Maud scribbled on her slate, letting go of Mollie’s hand.

  He must have really kept it a secret. Mollie wrote back.

  For you not to know, definitely.

  Definitely. Mollie elbowed her.

  “Ladies, can I help you with something?”

  Both girls sat up straight.

  “Unless you wish to share your notes with the class?”

  Both girls mumbled an apology. Across the room, Lu shook her head, and Clemmie whispered something to Annie, who giggled.

  Miss Gordon finished the roll call, then paced the floor, making eye contact with each student. “Now, I want to discuss two exciting endeavors. The first is the annual essay writing competition for the Montreal Witness. From Miss Robinson’s notes, I know you participated, but no one from this class finished in the finals.” Miss Gordon’s eyes paused on Maud. “I also understand some of you enjoy writing, so I hope to see yours at the top of the list.”

  Maud had to stop herself from clapping. Because of what happened last year she had missed the competition. Maybe if she won, her family would take her seriously.

  “Those who are interested will have weekly writing assignments so you can practice, and then we’ll settle on our topics in a few months. To start, though, we can begin with something you might have already written, or you can think of an important event that interests you,” Miss Gordon said. “It could be as recent as the growth of the railroad, or something that happened long ago.”

  Maud was thrilled. She hadn’t had a teacher really interested in writing since Mr. Fraser, who had given her A Bad Boy’s Diry, by Little George, about a little boy who always got himself into trouble, when she was in the Fourth Level.

  It had to be something dramatic—maybe she could look again at her piece, “The Queen’s Betrayal.” She would return to it and make sure it was perfect, with lots of descriptions.

  “The second endeavor will be a Christmas concert in December, where we will also showcase our talents. Everyone must participate.”

  There was a collective groan from some, but Maud turned to Mollie and winked. They would do whatever was necessary to be the stars of this show, or any other, for they adored playacting.

  For the rest of the morning, Miss Gordon held firm control over the classroom (even Jack’s brother, Austin, didn’t dare put a frog in her desk like he had on Miss Robinson’s first day) and then dismissed them for the dinner hour. Maud, Mollie, Nate, and Jack went directly to the old birch tree; Clemmie and Nellie sat under a grove of trees on the other side of the yard in deep consultation with Annie and Mamie.

  “That looks like my sisters on sewing day,” Mollie said, placing her sandwich on the cloth napkin draped across her lap. “Trouble.”

  “Miss Robinson certainly spoiled them,” Nate said, biting into his sandwich. “I never thought she treated you fairly, Polly.” He flicked some crumbs off of his pants. “Is that why you left?”

  Maud had a hard time swallowing her sandwich. Why couldn’t people leave the past alone?

  On the other end of the yard, the four girls had stopped talking and were now staring. Annie whispered something to Mamie, and she giggled.

  “I don’t really wish to discuss it,” Maud said.

  “If that’s the way you feel about it.” Nate sulked.

  Maud was reminded again how Nate despised being left out of things, but the last thing she wanted was for him to be angry with her. She had just gotten him back.

  “I do trust you,” she began, “but there are certain things I prefer not to rehash, particularly when there are other ears about.” Maud pointed to the group of girls.

  “They’re far enough away they won’t hear,” he said.

  “I understand,” Jack said. “Some things need to be buried, or burned.”

  Maud gave Jack a grateful smile.

  “Fine!” Nate smiled, showing all was forgiven. “I’ll be good and not pressure you, but promise me one day I’ll hear the whole story.”

  “I promise,” Maud said.

  “I wonder what they’re on about,” Mollie said, wiping her hands and placing her napkin inside her lunch pail.

  “Who cares?” Maud said.
Truth be told, she did. Mollie would find out; it was one of the reasons why Maud adored her.

  “I hate not knowing what people are up to,” Mollie said.

  “But what concern is it of yours?” Jack asked.

  “It’s always hard to explain these matters to boys,” Mollie said. “They’re like children fidgeting in a pew on a Sunday.”

  “I believe it is wonderful how Miss Gordon is really preparing us for the Montreal Witness contest,” Maud said, in an effort to change the subject.

  “You would,” Mollie said. “Always with your pencil and paper in hand and poring over your journal.”

  “Do you ever share anything from your journal with other people?” Nate asked.

  “Only a select few,” Maud said.

  “How does one get into this select club?”

  “One has to be worthy,” she said.

  How was it whenever she and Nate got into a conversation, it immediately became about things she didn’t want to discuss?

  “I hope someday to have that opportunity.” He really shouldn’t grin that way.

  Maud needed to get away from Nate, his grin—and the fluttery feeling. She grabbed Mollie’s arm. “I want to talk with Miss Gordon about the writing assignments.”

  “Yes,” Mollie said as if she understood. “Me too.”

  “We’ll see you both later,” Nate said, tipping his cap and putting it back on backwards the way Maud liked.

  But instead of going inside where Miss Gordon was eating her lunch, Mollie pulled Maud along to where Clemmie, Nellie, Mamie, and Annie appeared to be arguing.

  “Mollie, I’ve had enough drama for one day,” Maud said, trying to pull her in another direction.

  “C’mon, Pollie,” Mollie said. “We need to know the goings-on. And this is quite the fight.”

  She let Mollie pull her. She was curious, and secretly hoped Annie would finally give Clemmie what was coming to her.

  Lu and a few of the younger girls were also curious, gathering on the other side.

  “You told Clara and Mamie they shouldn’t be friends with me because I lied about why I couldn’t meet up with them on Saturday,” Annie shouted and pointed dramatically at Clemmie. “You know I had to go home and take care of my little sister because Mamma was ill!”

  “I know no such thing,” Clemmie said. “You’re always using your mother as an excuse. How do we know she is really sick?”

  “You wouldn’t understand because you are a spoiled little imp,” Mamie said.

  “Perhaps things haven’t changed at all,” Maud said.

  “Mamie follows Annie as if she’s the queen bee. And Nellie is devoted to Clemmie,” Mollie said.

  “You’re the spoiled one, Mamie Simpson,” Nellie said. “Always showing off.”

  Just as Mamie was about to rebut, Miss Gordon rang the school bell and Clemmie and Nellie skirted past her and went inside.

  “I’m relieved for once we aren’t involved,” Maud said, as they went in.

  “But you both are,” Annie said, grazing past them and blocking the door. “You and Amanda saw the whole thing and can be called upon to defend me if necessary.”

  “And why would we even help you?” Mollie said.

  “Because,” Annie said, “Clemmie has said some pretty horrible things about Maud and Nate.” She turned to Mollie. “I know you’ll defend Maud. Isn’t that what the two of you vowed last spring?” Annie and Mamie had been there when Maud and Mollie had made their vows of friendship.

  “What did Clemmie say about Nate and me?” Maud asked.

  “Oh, you know what it’s about.” And she went inside.

  Maud leaned her head against Mollie’s shoulder. “That was uncalled for,” Mollie said, “bringing up our friendship vow.”

  “Do you know what she’s talking about?” Maud asked.

  “No.” Mollie smoothed Maud’s hair and kissed the top of her head. “But I suspect she’s just trying to cause trouble.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Maud lay on her stomach on her bed with Nate’s copy of Undine propped up in front of her, her feet against her pillow. Dinner had been fairly quiet—Maud had been relieved that her grandparents had only asked how her day went, and then went on to discuss who came by the post office that day, and the goings-on.

  Back in her room, she had changed into a more comfortable green skirt and white waist, enjoying the solitude. She was sure Nate was going to ask her about Undine tomorrow. Truth was, she wasn’t reading—she was thinking about how warm his fingers were when she had given him the book today. She had recorded the entire episode in her journal, which now lay open beside her.

  Maud traced the etching of the majestic merwoman on Undine’s front cover, her flowing hair caressing the seaweed, her strong arms above her head, ready to take command of her life. Maud loved how the paper caressed her fingers, the curve of the spine, and the musty smell of a well-read and well-loved book. There was also something delicious in sharing a book with Nate. She was enjoying the little breadcrumbs he left in the margins and noting the passages he underlined. It was as if they were having a secret conversation.

  As she read, she smiled at how Nate had underlined, “It was in sooth caused by a gallant knight, bravely apparelled, who issued forth from the shadow of the wood and came riding towards the cottage.”

  Does Nate think himself a true and noble knight?

  As she turned the page, a piece of paper slipped out of the book onto the bed. She opened it:

  Dear Polly,

  I’m looking forward to hearing your thoughts on this book.

  Perhaps we will find a moment to discuss it after organ lessons one afternoon?

  Sincerely,

  Snip

  Maud had started taking organ lessons with Nate’s mother, Mrs. Spurr, last spring. Those had obviously stopped when she went to her Aunt Emily and Uncle John Malcolm’s in Malpeque. She was hoping to start again, but she had to convince her grandparents she was a worthy investment.

  She would have to worry about it later, though, because just then, Pensie knocked on her bedroom door for their nightly walk to the shore, wearing her auburn hair down with a pretty bow to tie it back. Maud leaped up, dropping the book on the floor, and then quickly threw it on the bed beside her journal.

  About twenty minutes later, Pensie and Maud were standing on the beach in front of the Gulf of St. Lawrence near their favorite spot, the Hole in the Wall, a carved piece of sandstone that years of erosion had made into a large hole one could walk through. The way the tide was coming in tonight, it was dangerous—it was slippery and one could be carried into the Gulf—but when the tide was out, Maud would walk through it easily, imagining it was a portal to another world.

  Maud regaled Pensie with almost everything that had happened at school. A few times she considered telling her about the secret book exchange with Nate, but she wasn’t up to Pensie’s lectures on propriety between Baptists and Presbyterians, so she focused on the argument between Clemmie and Annie.

  Pensie gently squeezed Maud’s arm and leaned into her. “It all sounds rather silly.” She sighed. “I’m glad I’m through with school. Mother needs me.”

  “Aren’t you bored being home all day?”

  “No, I have Fauntleroy and Topsy to keep me entertained,” Pensie said, referring to her cats. “Plus, as I said, Mother needs my help around the house, now that my sisters are married.”

  “If those cats could talk,” Maud said, thinking about how only a year ago she and Pensie would play together in the old barn with the kittens sharing their darkest secrets.

  After a few moments, Pensie said, “What about Nate Spurr?”

  Maud pushed Pensie away and stared out to the Gulf. She didn’t want to talk about Nate.

  “Oh, come now, Maudie. You promised me you would tell me what was in that letter.”

  Maud forced a laugh. “Well.” She faced her friend. “He goes by ‘Lockhart’ now.”

  “Does he?” Pensie�
��s brown eyes widened. “What possessed him to take his father’s—may he rest in peace—name?”

  Maud shrugged. She honestly didn’t know. Maybe he wanted to be closer to him. She could understand that.

  The two friends were silent, watching the sun set against the Gulf.

  “What did the letter say?” Pensie said after a while.

  “He was welcoming me back to school.”

  “I don’t believe it was just that, Maudie.” Pensie took hold of both of Maud’s hands. “He wants to court you!”

  She didn’t like what Pensie was suggesting. She and Nate were just friends, so she said, “Like Quill Rolling wants to court you?”

  Pensie let go of Maud’s hands and turned away. “We aren’t talking about me.”

  Maud immediately regretted her words. She couldn’t bear it when Pensie was upset with her. Maud took one of Pensie’s hands and kissed it. “Forgive me. It-it is…ridiculous, that’s all.”

  Pensie grasped Maud’s hand and kissed it back. “My sister Lillie says I should start thinking about such things, and so should you. You must be careful about how you lead boys on because they want one thing.” Pensie paused. “Marriage. Men like Nate are looking for a wife.”

  “Nate is not looking for a wife.” Maud guffawed. “He’s only fourteen! And even if he were, it wouldn’t be me. As I said, he and I are good friends, nothing more. Besides, he’s the Baptist minister’s stepson. Grandfather wouldn’t allow it. Next to marrying a cousin, marrying a Baptist is like going to the devil.”

  “True,” Pensie said.

  It was time to change the subject. “When are you coming to sleep over? It’s your turn, you know. You haven’t been over since I’ve returned to Cavendish.”

  Pensie sniffed. “Your place is so dreary.”

  Maud chortled. She thought the same thing, but would have never dared to actually say it out loud.

  “Why don’t you ask about coming to stay with me? You know my mother won’t mind. She adores you.”

  “I’ll ask Grandma,” Maud said.

  An hour later, Maud returned to her grandparents’ homestead and was about to slip back upstairs to read Undine when Grandma called her into the kitchen. She found her grandparents sitting on opposite ends of the kitchen table with two half-finished cups of tea and what appeared to be a red leather book opened up in the middle of the table. It looked much like her journal, which was odd because her journal was locked in a drawer upstairs.