Maud

by Melanie Fishbane

  “It is getting rather cold,” Quill said. “I promised your parents I would have you home promptly after refreshments.”

  Of course he had, but it was enough to Maud that she had wanted to stay. “It’s all right, Pensie. Mollie’s here with me. I promise to tell you, but not tonight.”

  Pensie bundled herself deeper underneath her cape. “I shall hold you to that.” She said good night and she and Quill walked down the hill.

  “I’ll go and let Jack know we are leaving,” Mollie said. “Wait here.”

  Maud was grateful to be left alone. She was tired and cold and wished she could take a long walk through Lover’s Lane to clear her head. But it was getting dark, and with all of the snow, the lane was precarious.

  A few moments later, Mollie emerged with Jack and the three friends walked toward home. Maud tried to pretend that she was having fun, even though Mollie certainly knew the truth and covered for her, but she couldn’t stop thinking about what those women had said. How was she ever going to find out the truth when no one was willing to talk to her about Mother?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  For the next week, Nate was like the Island weather: cold one moment and warm the next. Some days he would come to school and she would get the friendly Nate, inviting her to go sledding and sending her silly notes, including a poem about the night of the lecture when he had walked her home for the first time. But when she still wouldn’t tell him why she had been so upset the night of the prayer meeting, he would pout.

  Whatever worries she had about Mrs. Simpson telling Grandma about their behavior at the prayer meeting were forgotten. Instead, she focused on figuring out the truth about what she and Mollie had started calling their “secret discovery.” She couldn’t come out and ask her grandparents if her parents had eloped; they would most likely deny it, or tell her it wasn’t her place to ask such questions. Worse, they might be too mortified to even respond. Her grandparents and Aunt Annie had never said anything, so why would they now? And Aunt Emily in Malpeque was so cold to Maud last time she was there, Maud was sure she couldn’t talk with her.

  One day after school, the older students went up to the Cavendish Hall to hear a lecture by the Reverend Archibald on a missionary effort under way in South America. Now that Maud had gone to a number of lectures without—as far as her grandparents knew—incident, they had been more lenient about letting her attend. Nate was in one of his better moods, and he joined Mollie, Maud, and Jack on the way up the hill. Clemmie, Nellie, and the others were right behind them.

  “Are you girls ready to tell me that secret yet?” Nate asked in a tone that Maud decided was much too loud.

  Mollie pulled Maud a step or two ahead and whispered, “Maybe you should tell him.” Mollie hated what was happening between Maud and Nate because it was causing tension between the Four Musketeers, as Jack always stood by Nate.

  “No,” she said. She couldn’t tell him. What might he think of her when he found out? She turned to face Nate. “Secrets are kept for a reason.”

  Not getting the answers he was looking for, Nate hung back and went home instead of going to the lecture.

  “I guess he’s in one of his moods,” Maud said, pretending it didn’t bother her.

  “You do make it difficult,” Mollie said.

  “It isn’t my fault he takes things so personally.”

  “You know he can’t think straight when he’s around you,” Jack said.

  Maud and Mollie stopped in surprise. “Jack Laird, you are always so quiet, but when you speak, sheer nonsense comes out,” Maud said, immediately regretting it.

  Jack’s ears went a bit pink and he shuffled off ahead.

  “Now you’ve done it,” Mollie said. “I was hoping he’d sit with us.”

  “I’m sorry,” Maud said. “This whole thing…”

  “I know.” She took Maud’s hand. “Jack doesn’t hold a grudge. I’m sure if we apologize, he will forgive us.”

  Maud had enough people displeased with her. They found Jack inside and sat beside him. Mollie was right: he forgave them instantly.

  But that night after the lecture, Maud couldn’t sleep. She desperately missed Nate. She felt heavier, grayer, as if she were trying to move after a dense dream. Sitting in the front parlor with her grandparents after supper, she had to redo the crazy quilt squares she was sewing three times because she kept making mistakes.

  It rained all weekend, adding to her desperate loneliness and melancholy. She went over to Mollie’s on Saturday, but her head ached and even her best friend couldn’t make her feel better, so she returned home. Grandma gave Maud a cold compress and told her to go to bed.

  But on Monday, Maud found a note slipped into a copy of Shakespeare’s Sonnets:

  Dear Polly,

  I have a great interest in who you shook hands with after counting nine stars for nine nights. As your good friend, I think it is important that I know whom your future husband is going to be. One has to be sure he is worthy of you.

  I will gladly tell you my person if you would be open to divulging yours. That way we’ll both be in the know.

  Your chum,

  Snip

  “This is why he was so upset with you?” Mollie asked, when Maud showed her Nate’s note during math class later that afternoon.

  “He thinks this is our secret?” Mollie laughed. “Boys really don’t know anything, do they?”

  “No.” Maud stared at the note for a long while. She remembered the night of the literary in November, the way they had held hands after she had counted to nine stars, the way he had kissed her hand. “I didn’t realize he was this serious.”

  “Of course he’s serious.” Mollie giggled. “He is like the proverbial cow, moo-ning over you.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Write him back. You’re both so much better at expressing your feelings on paper than you are in person.”

  Mollie was right; Maud and Nate had always found it easier to write letters. That night she read over Nate’s letter and then wrote:

  Dear Snip,

  I’ve considered your proposal, and while I don’t think it was fair, I will consider telling you, but you will need to tell me who yours is first.

  Yours,

  Pollie—with an “ie”

  (Since that is the only way to spell it.)

  The next day at lunch, Maud and Mollie sat down with Jack and Nate, who were in the corner playing cards. It was too cold outside, so Miss Gordon had allowed them to have recess indoors.

  Grandma would have been so proud of Maud’s composure, for even though her heart was pounding, she kept her feelings hidden. Mollie said later she looked as cool as lemonade on a summer’s afternoon.

  Nate picked up a card and placed it on the makeshift crate he and Jack were using as a table.

  “Maybe this will clear some things up?” Maud said, and handed Nate her note. He took it, read it, and cleared his throat. Without a word, he slipped the note into his pocket and said, “Maud, we need to concentrate on this excellent game of cards. Right, Jack, let’s not allow these girls to distract us.” Jack said nothing, as usual, but smiled slightly and placed his card down.

  Infuriated, Maud and Mollie went back to their desk and discussed the issue at great length. Then, after hours of excruciating waiting, and right before Miss Gordon called the end of day, Maud found a little piece of paper sticking out of her reader.

  Dear Polly—with a “y,”

  I’m glad to see that you’re willing. Your proposition is certainly interesting, and I am willing to take it under advisement—but with one caveat. You must do something else for me in return. I am the one taking all of the risk, telling you something before you tell me, and that carries more weight than whatever you might say.

  So here is my position: you must answer fair and square, without any further evasion, the truth of your nine stars. Of course, as I am a gentleman, you can ask me a question and I pledge I will answer it—only after you tell me y
ours.

  Your friend,

  Snip

  After school, Maud quickly made her excuses to Mollie and ran home, going straight to her room to think. What was Nate going to ask next? The only way to resolve the issue was to agree to his demands. Sitting down at her desk, Maud carefully crafted a response, and then slipped it to him on their way to school the next day.

  Before lunch, a note was tucked into the pocket of the sweater hanging on the back of her chair.

  Dear Polly—with a “y,”

  After much consideration and folly here it is: you were the person I shook hands with after counting nine stars in nine nights. It was the night of Reverend Mr. Carruthers’s lecture when Jack and I walked you and Mollie home and I took your hand for a moment—do you remember?

  Now to my question about your nine stars, and a followup: Which of your boyfriends do you like best? And is he your nine stars?

  Snip

  Maud almost tossed the note at Nate’s head. The nerve! She had never dreamed Nate would be so bold. What was she going to do? Of course she liked Nate best. He was the most intelligent boy in the school, but to tell him so—in a letter? In words? That was something she wasn’t sure she was prepared to do…or something she could do. She would ask him the same in return, and then he would let the whole thing drop.

  Dear Snip,

  I will tell you that while it has been difficult for me to get to the nine stars, it appears the fates have aligned and—yes—it was you. As for your question, I will only answer it if you answer the same one in reverse: Which of your girlfriends do you like best?

  Pollie

  Maud gave Nate the note before school. He went off to read it, but soon came back all sheepish and said, “I think this is getting kind of out of hand, Maud, don’t you think? Shall we let it all drop?”

  “I don’t know, Nate. You’ve certainly given me much to consider,” Maud said.

  Nate stuck his hands in his pockets and blew soft puffs of cool air. Maud wondered if she had taken it too far. “I only meant…” She stopped. She certainly wasn’t going to apologize; he was the one who had put her in this situation. But she also didn’t want him walking off either. She sighed. “All right, Nate. Yes, let’s drop the whole thing.”

  “Excellent,” he said. “Let’s go in?”

  It was a short reprieve. Later that afternoon, she found another letter in her history book, tucked between a passage about Sir Walter Raleigh and Queen Elizabeth.

  Dear Polly,

  I have thought out this matter thoroughly and have reconsidered my decision. I will answer your question, but you must answer mine. It isn’t fair for a body to back out of a bargain. It doesn’t show good comradeship, and aren’t we good comrades above all else?

  Snip

  Dear Snip,

  Fine, but only if I see your note first.

  Pollie

  Dear Polly,

  I’m not fond of this idea, but I shall cater to this one demand.

  Snip

  That evening, Maud—after much pacing and some dark looks from Pensie, who had come over for their nightly walk and was annoyed when Maud wouldn’t tell her what was wrong—sat down to write another note.

  Dear Nate,

  You have a little more brains than the other Cavendish boys, and I like brains—so I suppose I like you best—though I don’t see why after the trick you’ve played on me.

  Maud

  She would give it to him only when Nate had given her his note. And as she blew out her lamp, she thought: If he has another girl’s name, I’ll never forgive him.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Nate gave her his note first, right before reading period. Maud got permission from Miss Gordon to go to the outhouse, and then threw on her wrap and scarf and ran down to the grove of maple trees in the Haunted Woods. It was one of those warmer days in February where faeries made mischief by tricking you into thinking spring was coming early.

  Her hands shook as she read its contents. He had written it in red ink!

  Well, Polly, it must be done. I at first intended to write quite a lengthy epistle, setting forth my poor opinion of myself, my very inferior personal endowments, my happiness, or rather ecstasy if your note proved favorable to my wishes etc. etc. etc. But I have altered my plan of arrangement and resolved to give you hard, dry, plain, facts, for they may possibly appear as such to you, but they are nevertheless as true as gospel. Here goes:—Of all my feminine friends the one whom I most admire—no I’m growing reckless—the one whom I love (if the authorities allow that word to come under the school boy’s scholarship vocabulary) is L.M. Montgomery, the girl I shook hands with, the girl after my own heart.

  Yes, Polly, it is true. I always liked you better than any other girl and it has kept on increasing till it has obtained “prodigious” proportions. Oh, wouldn’t I like to see you reading this. But I must conclude or you will say it is very lengthy after all. Remember I am waiting for you to fulfill your part of the transaction with ever-increasing impatience.

  from

  Nate

  P.S. I suppose you’ll say I’m very sentimental. Well, perhaps rather. However, it’s not much difference. I was just laughing over the tenacity with which we cling to our diverse manner of spelling Polly! (Pollie). I’m going to cling to my manner ad finem, because it’s right. I expect you’ll prove stubborn, too.

  N.J.L.

  In the unseasonably warm sun, Maud almost wept with joy. It surprised her how happy she was to receive the letter after so much uneasiness. But then she wondered if it was a good idea to encourage this now. She couldn’t have such entanglements. It was too complicated. Even if Clemmie had calmed down, there were the rest of the Baptist and Presbyterian congregations to consider—not to mention her grandparents, who could never know about this. They would certainly be ashamed of her.

  In addition, once Maud handed Nate her note it would be done. He would know she liked him, liked him best.

  What was it Reverend Mr. Carruthers had said about being an example? How was this being an example? Pensie would tease her and say, “I told you so.” She had been right; Nate had wanted more from Maud all along.

  Icicles plunked against the snowbank.

  He loved her. No one had ever told her that before. And she admired him. But was it love? She had made him a promise and she was going to have to give him her answer. Maud returned to school and avoided Nate for the rest of the morning.

  At noon, Maud passed Nate the answer she had labored over the previous night in her French grammar book. The rest of the afternoon was one of the slowest Maud had ever experienced, even worse than when Nate hadn’t been speaking to her. Every once in a while, she was sure she heard him whistling quietly over his sums.

  Finally, the long afternoon was over and Maud scooped up her books and ran home. She was sorry for the whole sordid mess. And yet, there was something exquisite—triumphant—about having a boy fall in love with her. Maud had never believed anyone would think of her in that way. Now here it was—in red ink.

  Going over to her bureau, she unlocked it and copied the letter into her journal, carefully locking it back in the drawer when she was done.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  As the days passed, letters were found in schoolbooks and sheet music. Nate also carved her nickname in cipher above her school hook: Ïδλλυη.

  Maud found this letter after her organ lesson:

  Dear Polly,

  I hereby solemnly swear to you I would never show interest in any other girl than you. Don’t you know how I feel about you? Haven’t I shown you with my interest in your words and our conversation? It might be easier for everyone if we were of the same traditions, but as we’ve discussed in the past, our core feelings about Him are similar. Let the dogmatists fight among themselves while we prove to them that none of it matters.

  We can be our own—dare I say it—Romeo and Juliet story, save the dreadful ending.

  Yours,

  N.


  The next day, Nate discovered this under his French book:

  Dear Snip,

  It is hard to swear upon things we cannot know of.

  Sincerely,

  Pollie

  Nate then smuggled his last plea during geography class.

  Dear Polly,

  I know we don’t believe in love at first sight, but I think of the first time I saw you and believe, maybe, that the poets know something we don’t yet understand.

  There was also a certain way you turned your head that day at the prayer meeting, and I looked up from my hymnal and I became yours. Would you ever see me as anything other than a chum? You might even think this letter is too silly and you would be right. But, Polly…please, let me be yours.

  N.

  Each time she received one of Nate’s letters, Maud had a fluttery feeling she didn’t know where to put. It started at her toes and traveled up her spine. She wanted to simultaneously run from and embrace it. There were nights she ached to be held by him, imagining him kissing her forehead, and then her lips, whispering how dear she was to him.

  On Valentine’s Day, Nate stuck a red paper heart inside her copy of Tennyson that said, Be My Valentine. Meet me under our favorite tree. The Tree Lovers, the one with two branches curved in on each other in a constant embrace, had become their special place. It was then that she finally admitted to herself that she was in love with Nate Lockhart and decided she would meet him.

  As Maud turned down the path, she heard the familiar whistle.

  He was waiting for her.

  As she approached, Nate took off his glove and extended his hand for hers. In a daring move, she took off hers. They walked in silence. Now that she was alone with him, the giddiness had faded and was replaced with uncertainty over what would come next…what she wanted to come next.