The welcome smile fell. “I forgot. I’ve known him as Spurr for years. A person shouldn’t go and change their name. It isn’t proper.”
“Nate can do what he wants,” Maud said. “He is his own man.”
“Maud,” Clemmie said, more calmly. “I came here this morning to tell you something about Nate.”
Maud felt the creepy-crawly feeling move down the back of her neck.
Nellie fussed with her sleeves. It was clear she was uncomfortable with this odd confession. Clemmie turned around and waved her away.
“Aren’t you going to tell me what this is about, Clemmie?” Nellie’s tone almost made Maud feel sorry for her.
“I promise, I will. But this needs to be between Maud and me,” Clemmie said.
Nellie dragged herself away but stood near the school steps.
“So what is it you wish to warn me about?” Maud said.
“I’ve missed you, Maudie. I truly have. We always had such fun together, you and I. All of those walks home, making fun of that old witch Miss Robinson.”
Maud remembered it rather differently. Maud, Mollie, and Pensie having a confidential chat and Clemmie appearing sympathetic. Until she wasn’t. “I recall you pushing your way in.”
“You girls were always laughing.” Clemmie paused at the soft chatter of their classmates as they came through the school woods. Maud could see Nate and Jack in the distance.
“You’re running out of time, Clemmie. Tell me what you want.”
“Well,” Clemmie reached out to take Maud’s arm, but Maud shook her arm away. “You know Nate and I go to the same church.”
Maud nodded.
“We have been friends since he came to Cavendish. We go to Sunday School and sing in the choir together. Mother thinks he would be a good match for me, and that I have the right temperament to be a minister’s wife.”
Maud watched as Nate and Jack stopped at the clearing to wait for Mollie, who was coming their way. When Mollie saw Clemmie, she started walking toward them, but Maud held up her hand. This was between them.
“His stepfather is a minister, but I don’t think Nate has similar aspirations,” Maud said.
Clemmie pressed her lips together. “These things could always be managed, if done in a particular fashion.”
“So what’s the warning? You want to turn him into a minister? Go ahead and try. As I said, Nate is his own man.”
Clemmie’s mask fell away. “If you and Nate continue with this courtship—”
“We aren’t courting, we are just friends!”
Clemmie breathed through her nose. “If you and Nate continue with this courtship, I will make tremendous trouble for you. He is Baptist; you are Presbyterian—God help you—and it isn’t right. He’s one of us, and we will make sure he isn’t led astray by your whims.”
Maud guffawed. “You’re overestimating my abilities.”
“Then how do you explain the name change?”
“I don’t know.” She truly didn’t. “I was as surprised as you when he told Miss Gordon. He had never said anything to me. I think he might want to connect to his father. But why would him changing his name have anything to do with me?”
“We—I—think it has something to do with his uncle the poet in Halifax.”
“Pastor Felix?”
“Yes. We—I—think it must have something to do with him.”
“While I admire his uncle’s poetry, I can’t fathom why Nate changing his name has anything to do with him—or me.”
“Don’t you see? He knows how much you enjoy all that poetry nonsense and wanted to impress you.”
Maud laughed again, but it was hollow. Would he do such a silly thing to impress her? No. She didn’t believe it.
“You are being ridiculous,” she said, and turned to go, but Clemmie grasped her arm. Maud stared at the fingers gripping her sleeve, then slowly lifted her head. It was clear from the sternness in Clemmie’s expression, she believed every word.
“You will listen to me. Be careful, Maud, or we’ll make trouble for both of you. You will not ruin this for me.”
Maud shook Clemmie’s hand off. She’d had enough of people telling her what she was supposed to do—and who she could be with. Clemmie could certainly try to get Nate, but Maud would be a dignified Presbyterian and leave this in the hands of Providence. If Clemmie and Nate were meant to be—and she highly doubted this—then God would make it so.
“Clemmie,” Maud said, “I will not allow you or anyone in your congregation to dictate who I can be friends with. As I’ve said to you three times now, Nate Lockhart is his own man and will do as he pleases, whether it be staying friends with me, or ending up with someone of your disposition.”
Clemmie scowled.
“Although, if he did end up with you, I would feel sorry for his predicament.” She turned and marched toward Mollie, took her hand, and then headed to where Nate and Jack stood in the clearing.
“What was that about?” Mollie said.
“Some nonsense,” Maud said. “I’ll tell you all the details later.”
Mollie frowned. “You promise?”
Maud nodded. “How’s your father?”
Mollie tucked her curly hair behind her ear. “He’s just tired, I think. Nothing that a little tea and sympathy won’t cure.” Then she grinned. “Come, let’s go meet our young men.”
“Yes, let’s!” And Maud made sure her laugh was loud enough that Clemmie could hear it.
CHAPTER NINE
That evening, Maud was sewing her quilt with her grandparents in the front parlor. Her grandmother was working on a piece of embroidery and her grandfather was reading the Charlottetown Patriot. Maud had to admit she enjoyed these quiet evenings with her grandparents; there was an ease in the silence of measured, productive work—particularly after the episode with Clemmie.
Since the journal incident, she and her grandparents hadn’t spoken very much, keeping their conversation to safe topics, such as the post office and household chores. It had been difficult working side by side when Maud knew how angry her grandmother was over what she had written. Nevertheless, Maud still felt betrayed.
But now, sitting in the front parlor after dinner with the quiet of their work and the fire’s light making her feel cozy and safe, she felt peaceful for the first time in a while. Maud looked down at her crazy quilt. She was working on the patch that Pensie’s mother had given her.
“Maud,” Grandma said. “There’s something we’d like to discuss with you.”
The stitches Maud had been sewing knotted. She sighed. They would have to be torn out and redone.
“We’ve been thinking that it is time you returned to your music lessons,” Grandma went on.
Maud nearly dropped her square in surprise. If Grandma was suggesting that she renew her lessons, she definitely wasn’t concerned about Maud’s friendship with Nate—she clearly hadn’t read the more recent entries about him in her journal. Maud concentrated on sewing to hide a smile. Despite the fact that her grandparents were still disappointed in her, she felt a heavy weight lift.
“I expect to hear you practice,” her grandfather said.
“Of course, Grandfather,” Maud said as she picked up her square and started removing the stitches. She couldn’t wait to write Nate and tell him.
—
The Spurrs’ gray brick house hid among a clump of trees on top of the hill, across the road from the Baptist Church and the Cavendish Hall.
The organ was proudly placed in the parlor where Mrs. Spurr conducted music lessons, adjacent to a sitting room where Nate would study. Maud’s first lesson didn’t happen until October, and when she arrived after school, Nate was already sitting in the next room, pretending to read Little Women. In her previous lessons, she had liked having him close, but now she was very conscious of his presence, and she lost all coordination.
“Maud, pay attention to your pedal and hand coordination,” Mrs. Spurr said. “Let’s take another look at
‘Abide with Me.’ It’s such a common hymn that you’ll need to know it if you are ever asked to play. You need”—she cleared her throat and looked over at her son, who was studiously keeping his eyes on the book—“to focus.”
“Sorry,” Maud mumbled. She realized how much she had forgotten. Between relearning how to read music, and having to remember how to coordinate her hands playing the keys and her feet pumping the pedals, she could already feel the strain in her neck. But, as she straightened her back to reposition herself on the bench, her eye caught the lyrics to the hymn and she smiled. “I love these words, Mrs. Spurr. ‘Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies.’ ”
“They are lovely, aren’t they?” Her organ teacher smiled. “But do what you can to ignore them for now, and focus on the music.”
Maud tried, but ignoring words was like ignoring the color of the sky on a summer’s day: impossible.
Nate wasn’t helping. She pumped; he flipped a page. She played; he tapped his foot.
“I think we are done today, Maud,” Mrs. Spurr said after half an hour of dreadful music. “Try to practice your coordination for next week.”
Mrs. Spurr led Maud to the door and wished her good night. As she turned the corner to walk down the hill toward the Haunted Woods, Nate whistled and appeared behind her.
“Shall I carry your sheet music?” he said.
“I’m perfectly capable of handling my music,” she said.
“Oh, you are perfectly capable of handling most things.” The way he said it made her wonder if she was capable of even looking him in the eye without giggling.
“But what would my mother or the local ladies say about my character if I allowed you to carry your own things?” he said.
Somehow Maud found her footing. “What would the local ladies say about my character if they saw us walking together?”
Nate paused at the top of the hill. “Why should we care?” he said. Maud thought about what Clemmie had said, and about how her grandparents were finally relaxing after the journal episode. And, yet, the way Nate was looking at her now—with a little smile—and their easy banter wore her down: she found herself handing him her sheet music.
It was one of those autumn afternoons when the warmth of the sun teased a person into thinking winter would never come. They walked in silence for a little while, the wind caressing the leaves, causing them to gently fall, one by one. They turned up the path past David Macneill’s farm.
“I’ve been very curious about your thoughts on Undine,” he said. “I was right, wasn’t I? It is a Maud book. Particularly because you still have it.”
Maud had kept the novel because she enjoyed it so much—and the notes he had left in the margins. It had helped her after she’d burned the journal. Certain books, including Little Women, saved her, giving her permission to forget her troubles. And with Nate borrowing her copy, she found Undine a welcome distraction. “I did find it quite delicious. Particularly the predicament Undine has put herself in. Keeping secrets to save yourself, and all for lo—” She stopped herself then and felt the heat of the late afternoon sun strong on her cheeks.
“I think we can all relate to that,” he said. His hand grazed hers. She reluctantly moved her hand away.
“I noticed you were reading Little Women,” Maud said. “Was I right? Not a ‘girl’s book.’ ”
Nate chuckled. “Well, there are certainly parts of it that I think only you women would understand, such as when Meg goes to Vanity Fair. But, I must admit I appreciated the Pickwick Portfolio. We should see if Miss Gordon would be up to having our own newspaper—”
“Or some kind of club where we write stories,” Maud interjected.
“Exactly,” he said, and for a little while Maud forgot her nervousness as the two of them talked about the stories they were working on for Miss Gordon and the Montreal Witness. She was going to write about the Marco Polo shipwreck that had happened when she was little.
When they reached the end of Lover’s Lane, Nate stopped and said, “Will you be going to the Reverend Mr. Carruthers’s talk?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Maud said, remembering how Pensie was now going with Quill.
“It’s sure to be quite an interesting evening,” he continued. They were standing under one of her favorite trees.
“Pensie and Mollie told me about it, but it depends if my grandparents will allow it.” Maybe Grandma would let her go. “I’ll try.”
Nate grinned. “Perhaps I’ll have the opportunity to escort you home?”
He certainly had such lovely freckles.
“Perhaps,” she said.
CHAPTER TEN
You must come and stay with me the night of the lecture, Mollie wrote on her slate the following day when Maud told her about the walk home with Nate. They were supposed to be reading about British history while Miss Gordon was attending to the second levels, but they were writing notes instead.
My grandparents might not let me go, Maud wrote.
But they must!
Would your parents mind? Maud didn’t want to say, but she wondered if Mollie’s father would be well by then. But Mollie didn’t have the same concerns.
Absolutely not! She grabbed Maud’s hand and whispered, “It will be as much fun as a moonlight dance on the shore. We’ll stay up and talk all night!”
“Maybe I can convince them.” But Maud wasn’t convinced herself.
Ask your grandparents tonight, Mollie wrote.
During dinner that evening, Maud waited for the right moment. Grandfather was in a good mood. The post office had been very busy, so he had caught up on all of the Island news and was regaling them with stories. Providence might be on her side.
While Grandma nodded along as Grandfather spoke, Maud could see that she was a bit distracted and had dark circles under her eyes. Maud had heard her pacing last night, and she had wondered whether her grandmother was trying to decide what to do with her—how to get rid of her. But it didn’t appear as if a decision had been made, so when Grandfather paused to eat, Maud took a deep breath. “Did you know that the Reverend Mr. Carruthers is giving a lecture at the Cavendish Hall this weekend?”
“Yes,” Grandma said. “Why do you ask?”
Gathering her courage, Maud spoke with as much force as she could. “May I go?”
Grandma and Grandfather exchanged a look.
“I don’t think so, Maud,” Grandma said. “We aren’t sure what kind of nonsense this reverend will advocate, and you are quite impressionable.”
The fine evening she and Mollie had planned was slipping away. Clemmie and her crowd would be there, since their parents would certainly allow them to attend. She had to find a way to convince her grandparents.
“Grandma, Grandfather,” Maud said, nodding at each of them. “Mo-Amanda will be there, and we had planned for me to stay with her.” She could hardly tolerate the whine in her own voice. “Pensie is going as well.” Maud wisely said nothing about Quill.
“You planned, did you,” Grandma said, her mouth creased. “Mrs. Macneill has enough to contend with without you two girls being all silly and under her skin.”
“Mollie told me her mother was fine with it.” This was mostly true.
“Isn’t the reverend one of those Baptists?” Grandfather asked, taking a bite of his chicken.
Maud swallowed the last of hers. She actually wasn’t sure. Religion was important to her grandparents—and to people like Clemmie and her family. She was proud to be Presbyterian, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t listen to other ministers.
“Many people from the congregation are also planning on attending,” she said instead. She had no idea if it was true, but she was sure at least it was mostly true.
“Well,” Grandfather said, “I agree with your grandmother. You are quite impressionable, Maud. Who knows what kind of ideas you’ll come home with.”
“I am not!” Maud practically shouted. Grandfather put down his fork and glared; he didn’t approve
of girls being loud.
Grandma sighed. “Let’s think this over. If Amanda and Pensie are allowed to attend, perhaps it is more educational than religious.”
Maud said no more about it, but the waiting was excruciating. She hardly slept all night. But the next morning, Grandma gave Maud the good news.
“Really!” Maud said, clasping her hands in an effort to stop herself from hugging her grandmother.
“There are rules, Maud,” Grandma said, wiping her hands with a dishrag. “You must stay on the main road and wait for the carriages to go before you start walking. It will be almost dark, and you don’t want to get run over.”
“Of course, Grandma,” Maud said, thinking of Nate’s offer to walk her home.
“And do not, under any circumstances, accept any inappropriate requests from boys,” she said.
Maud suppressed a grin. “Of course, Grandma.”
CHAPTER ELEVEN
It was a perfect evening at the Cavendish Hall. To impress the visiting reverend, the Cavendish ladies had baked up a spread of their finest treats and were serving fresh, tart hot apple cider. The hall was decorated with fine white bunting and fall flowers.
The Reverend Mr. Carruthers’s lecture was very inspiring. He directed his talk to the “many young people in the crowd,” saying that just because they were young didn’t mean they couldn’t do important things, be part of the community, be an example to others. He was definitely one of the most animated speakers Maud had ever heard. Usually when she listened to Reverend Archibald’s sermons on Sundays, she was bored, but Reverend Mr. Carruthers spoke with such great emotion that he made Maud want to ask more questions, think more deeply about what she believed.
Maud sat with Mollie, while Pensie sat with Mary on one side and Quill on the other and spent much of the evening laughing too loudly at his obnoxious jokes. After the lecture, Maud overheard Quill ask Pensie why she spent time with people “half her age,” with Mary mimicking his query. Pensie laughed too loudly again, but Maud was not amused.
What was amusing was watching Nate and Jack—well, Nate. They sat a few rows ahead, joking with one another, and a few times she thought she saw Nate turn to look at her. At one point, Nate was whispering commentary to Jack, which caused the reverend at one point to stop talking while “the young men finished.” While Nate didn’t seem to mind one bit, Maud felt embarrassed, as if she herself had been caught talking.
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