Maud

by Melanie Fishbane

  “Did you submit your essay on the railroad for the Montreal Witness?” she said to fill the silence. It was a conversation they’d had many times.

  “You know I did.” He squeezed her hand.

  She couldn’t speak, then; she was too fascinated by how warm Nate’s ungloved hand felt in hers. Maud had taken his hand before, but this was different. Back then she had believed—or pretended to believe—they were good friends, that they were teasing. Now she was aware of his fingers around hers. There was a steadiness in holding his hand she had never felt before, a knowing he would always stand by her. This thrilled and terrified her. She wanted to both let go and hold on.

  He rubbed his thumb against the top of her hand. She shivered. Her ring felt cool against his warm skin.

  Nate stopped and Maud turned to face him. He had turned his cap around so it was on backwards, just the way she liked it.

  “May I kiss you?” he asked.

  Maud could scarcely breathe. “Yes.”

  He leaned in, and their foreheads knocked together.

  Their second attempt was more successful. This time she didn’t move, allowing him to guide her. Her head tilted to the right, his lips tentatively met hers.

  How sweet his kiss was. Her first kiss.

  When they pulled apart, she was ready to tell him the truth about her parents—or at least, the truth that some believed. “I have something to tell you. My secret. My father,” Maud said, and pulled away, but he took her hand again. Maud didn’t speak. Her black boots cradled in the faded red snow.

  “Maud, I don’t care what people say about your family. We are not responsible for the actions of our parents.”

  With all of the stories Maud had heard, she wasn’t sure she believed Nate. After all, we were a combination of our family’s stories, were we not?

  “You knew what people were saying about my parents?” she said. All this time, she had thought she was protecting him, protecting herself. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

  “Because I had hoped you would tell me.” He pulled away. “Why wouldn’t you trust me with this?”

  “It’s a family matter, Nate,” Maud said, reaching out to touch his arm. Why did she have to ruin this perfect moment?

  He turned to face her, and there was a softness in his expression. “Do you know about my father?” he asked.

  “Just that he died on a ship before you were born.”

  “That’s true.” He took her hand and led her to a large rock near a small pool of water. “The truth is that my father went missing. He was a ship captain and the boat got lost somewhere near Argentina.”

  “How dreadful!”

  “My mother tells me that for weeks they didn’t know if he was alive or dead. But then a letter came from one of his officers confirming her worst fears.”

  “He was dead.”

  Nate sniffed. “There are still rumors that he was murdered, but we will never know for sure. It was one of the reasons why my mother came home to live with her parents and was grateful when my stepfather proposed.”

  Maud could see why. Being connected to someone who might have been murdered could truly damage a woman’s reputation, even if she had nothing to do with it.

  He put his other hand on top of hers and laid it gently on the rock between them. “So you see, Polly, my Polly, we have more in common than you realize. I heard this story from my mother only recently, because she wanted me to hear it from her. People will talk.”

  Yes. Yes they will.

  “It is why I changed my name back to Lockhart. I wanted to show them that I was proud of my father. I believe it was an accident.”

  Maud blinked back tears. He did understand. He saw her without judgment. He was her knight and she, the girl who needed saving. She wanted to be loved, and he loved her.

  “Thank you for trusting me with your story,” she whispered.

  “Don’t you see, Polly?” He leaned in. He had the most marvelous freckles. “You could always trust me.”

  Her second kiss was even sweeter.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  “You look flushed, Maud. Be careful not to get overheated,” Grandma warned when she got home a few hours later. When Maud was younger she had burned her finger on a poker and got very sick, almost dying, and since then Grandma was always concerned when Maud looked “flushed.”

  But all Maud could think of were Nate’s lips—he kissed as though he was writing in the margins of a book, with deep intensity. Sometimes he moaned, and she was equally flattered and uncomfortable. Heat bloomed up the back of her neck when she allowed herself to think about it.

  She even dared to write about it in her journal, often rereading the entries that led up to their first kiss, including his love letter to her. How silly it all seemed now that they were together. And then one day, as she was locking her journal away, she saw a letter lying on top of her bureau near the pile of unread magazines. She froze when she saw her father’s familiar handwriting.

  It was now early March, and Maud hadn’t heard from Father since she had received the package of magazines. Should she disturb her fragile joy with another disappointing letter? In the end, curiosity won.

  Father apologized (again) for his long absence, but he had a good reason. After “settling some matters,” he had finally returned to Prince Albert, to Eglintoune Villa. The next part made Maud hold her breath, rereading the sentence until she finally believed it might be true.

  I’m writing to my father to inquire if he still plans to come west at the end of the summer. I know he’s been interested in inspecting the railroad expansion. Perhaps you can join him?

  Maud practically pranced down the stairs to show her grandparents the letter. Of course, they had seen it come through the post, but they didn’t know the contents. Grandfather was sitting near the window. He watched as Grandma read the letter quickly and hand it back to Maud as if it was a soiled rag. “I’m glad he has the foresight to arrange travel plans for you, as it is indecent for a girl your age—or any woman, for that matter—to be traveling by train alone.”

  “Does he mean this to be permanent?” Grandfather said, clearing his throat.

  “There are no specifics given,” Grandma said.

  “I see,” he said. “Perhaps we need to give it some thought.”

  Why couldn’t her grandparents see how this was a good thing? But she didn’t want anything to ruin this chance, so she agreed to wait until they had a chance to talk it over.

  But, the next day, while walking in the school woods at lunchtime, Maud couldn’t hold it in. She told Nate about her father’s letter.

  Instead of being happy for her, Nate scowled. “You haven’t thought this through,” he said. “What happens when you leave? When would I see you? With me leaving for school next year, we would have even less time together.”

  Maud didn’t have any answers, and was perturbed that he couldn’t simply be supportive. “Do you expect me to wait around for you?”

  Nate put his hands in his pockets and didn’t meet her gaze. “I don’t relish the idea of you being so far away.”

  Maud didn’t relish the idea of being so far away from her friends—or him. “He’s my father, Nate,” she whispered.

  Nate took both of her hands. “Of course. If I had the opportunity to see my father again, I would take it. It is that I would miss you.” He gave her his adorable chin-dimpled grin and she forgave him.

  “Things will work themselves out,” she said, not even allowing herself to think the idea might not come to fruition.

  When Pensie came by for the mail a few days later, she remarked that it was foolish for Maud to get her hopes up. Her father had to see if Grandpa Montgomery was going out West; there were still so many things to decide. Maud knew Pensie wasn’t being cruel in being so practical; her friend cared about her, but that didn’t mean she needed reminding of all of the times Father had hurt her. It also confirmed that Maud was right to not tell her about the rumors she had
overheard about her parents. Pensie wouldn’t understand. Maud needed compassion, not judgment.

  But as winter faded into spring, so did Maud’s hope. She heard nothing more from Father or Grandpa Montgomery.

  Maud took her mind off of the disappointment by going to lectures at the Cavendish Hall with the Musketeers and preparing for exams. Miss Gordon had planned a concert in June, so after the April examinations were over, the entire class turned their attention to that. Maud and Mollie were going to do a rendition of “Mary Queen of Scots,” and by then the winners of the Montreal Witness contest would be announced. Miss Gordon was hoping it would be one of her students. Each person had to practice reading their essay out loud.

  Maud and Nate walked home regularly together after her organ lessons or school, or one of the many lectures. She was uncomfortable when he grew serious, talking about next year, when she had no idea when—or if—she would be going. Or if she would be coming back.

  Still, with everything feeling so uncertain, it was nice to have the idea of a possible future, even if Maud knew somewhere within that her grandparents—if they ever found out about Nate—would forbid it. So she enjoyed her time with him.

  Until everything fell apart.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Maud came home from organ practice one early May afternoon and found her grandparents sitting together on the sofa in the parlor. Waiting. Grandfather stared right through her.

  “We know about Nathan Lockhart,” Grandma Macneill said. “You’re to end it now.”

  Maud held her shaking hands in front of her. “There’s nothing going on between us…we’re just friends.”

  “Really?” Grandma said. “Mrs. Macneill, Clemmie’s mother, was here earlier today with the most fantastic story.”

  Maud balled her fists. Clemmie’s mother. Not Mrs. Simpson! They’d found a way to get their revenge after all.

  “Mrs. Macneill said that you and the Lockhart boy have been seen together after school—”

  “That woman should pay more attention. She knows I take organ lessons with Mrs. Spurr,” Maud said.

  “Watch your tone!” Grandfather said.

  “Sorry,” Maud mumbled. She unclenched her fists and sat down on the chair near the window. A crow pecked at the red earth and flew away. “We are only friends,” she said, but even to her this sounded false.

  “Look at us when we are speaking to you!” Grandma said.

  Sitting as tall as she could, Maud faced them. This was the hour of judgment.

  Grandma glared at her over her spectacles.

  “Gallivanting with boys—and a Baptist, no less,” Grandfather said. “All of Cavendish is talking about it. I will not have our good name sullied by a girl who is more interested in boys than her reputation.”

  There was no need to stop the tears now flowing. Her grandparents were going to think what they wanted about her.

  “Tears aren’t going to help you now,” Grandma said. “You need a steady hand—one we cannot give you.” She sighed. “I cannot believe it has come to this, but perhaps finally being with your father will help to curb this attitude.”

  A long silence filled the room—a silence that stretched out until Maud’s heart broke. She was as unwanted as an orphan. There was nothing more she could do that would disappoint them. It was time to find out the truth. Her heartbeat almost drowned out her words, “All of Cavendish already talk about Mother and Father…what’s one more thing?”

  Without a word, Grandfather stood up and left the room, banging the back door behind him.

  “As if you haven’t upset your grandfather enough.” Grandma sank into herself. “Poor Clara has nothing to do with this.”

  “How would I know? You never talk about her!” Maud was weeping now. She didn’t care that they knew about Nate. She was actually relieved.

  Grandma rubbed her hands against her lap. “I will not discuss this.” She cleared her throat. “Your grandfather and I are deeply disappointed with you. We thought you had learned your lesson when we sent you away last year. It is clear that we were wrong. Perhaps by leaving Cavendish, you will finally understand what happens when you allow your emotions to guide you instead of the rules.”

  Maud rubbed the cuff of her sleeve against her face and took a deep breath. It was no use. Grandma had judged Maud according to gossip and found her wanting. She had prioritized reputation over family. Again.

  Grandma stood up. “It is settled. Your father wrote about you joining him, but I don’t think he was truly serious. Now it is time he was.”

  How had her deepest wish suddenly become a punishment? Maud had always wanted to go to Prince Albert to live with Father, to have a real family. But now he was being forced into it. What would he think of her? Shame strangled her as tightly as one of her lace collars.

  It would be best if she left.

  —

  That night Maud lay in bed, watching the sky, looking at how the cool moon shone on a dark sea of stars.

  What was she going to do? How was she going to tell him? Part of her wished she could go back. Back to when counting nine stars for nine nights was only a game.

  Nate was so in love with her that he would probably wait. He’d come back from Acadia University and she could return here and marry him. Nate would believe in their love because he thought he was a gallant knight and that was what one did.

  Maud quietly slipped out of bed and walked over to her chest where she kept all of his letters, wrapped in two blue ribbons made from an old dress that no longer fit. She reread them, remembering his kisses, his touch, his whistle. Would she ever get that lilting tune out of her head?

  Thank goodness her grandparents hadn’t seen these.

  Maud had so little power over nearly everything in her life; she hadn’t ever experienced a thrill like the power she had over Nate’s emotions. There was passion. Their stolen glances. Their first kiss. And he loved her and would wait to marry her, and she—she wanted to travel and write. She couldn’t settle down. Not yet.

  Nate had assumed she would always be here waiting for him, but deep down she knew that the future he had imagined for them wasn’t possible. She didn’t love him the same way he loved her. And her future plans? She wasn’t sure how yet, but she was going to be a writer and attend school. It wasn’t fair to him, for as much as she did love him—oh, and she did love him!—she didn’t love him as deeply as he loved her.

  As the cool moon caressed a gray cloud, Maud knew what she had to do. She had to let him go.

  —

  The following day her grandparents sent word to Grandpa Montgomery and Father, telling them about Nate. She was mortified, and worried that they would think ill of her. It took almost two weeks before her grandparents received a letter from Grandpa, who wrote that he was planning a trip to British Columbia on railroad business at the end of August and would bring Maud with him then. As Grandma read the letter out loud, there was none of Grandpa’s usual warmth and humor. Instead it was business, factual, as if he were writing a letter to one of his fellow politicians in Ottawa.

  Now that Maud was leaving, she wished she could go back to a time when she and Nate were just friends, when things hadn’t gotten so complicated, when she could count nine stars without understanding the consequences.

  One evening, Mollie suggested that they walk down to the Hole in the Wall. When they got to the shore, Maud told Mollie what had happened with her grandparents. Mollie was shocked that they knew, and sympathetic.

  “As much as we don’t care to admit it,” Mollie said, putting her arm around Maud, “your different religions matter.”

  Maud rested her head on Mollie’s shoulder. “I wish it didn’t.” And it was true.

  They were quiet for a while, watching the icy water carve and crack itself around the Hole in the Wall.

  “I’m going to miss this,” Mollie said.

  Maud kissed her friend’s cheek. “I’m going to miss you.” They embraced, and Maud was comforted by t
he strength of Mollie’s arms around her. A consistent and constant friendship. When they pulled apart, she said, “You must promise me you will keep me informed of all the goings-on.”

  Mollie wiped a stray tear. “You have my solemn oath.”

  They walked and the conversation changed to other things, and Mollie asked Maud what she was writing. Even if she didn’t always understand it, Mollie always told Maud her writing was “simply splendid.”

  “Do you promise not to laugh?”

  “I would never laugh at you,” Mollie said.

  “I decided that when ‘Cape LeForce’ is ready I will submit it for publication.”

  “Ooo!” Mollie embraced her. “How thrilling!”

  Maud appreciated how much her friend believed in her, even if she herself was so nervous about it. “I do enjoy writing about history. And you know that writing verse is my true calling.”

  “I’m so impressed, Pollie. I will never have a talent for such things. My talent will be finding a husband. One my mother will approve of.”

  Maud didn’t want her friend to get married.

  “We’re not even sixteen yet,” Maud said.

  “True,” Mollie said. “But Mother said that it was time I started to think about it. She was married at eighteen, you know.”

  “I think mine waited,” Maud said, not thinking. “It was March.” Then she remembered what Mrs. Simpson had said and her cheeks grew warm.

  Mollie was quiet for a while, then said, as if she had been reading Maud’s mind, “I’m sure it was not as those women suggested. You know they were trying to hurt your feelings.”

  While Maud was sure that was true, she was also certain there was some truth in what they had said. Why else would no one talk of her parents’ courtship? But she didn’t want to talk about it anymore, so instead she asked, “Do you have any suitors in mind?”

  Mollie blushed. “I think you know.”

  “Jack.”

  Mollie nodded. “I keep hinting, as a girl is allowed, that I would be…open…to it. But he’s not seeing me.” Maud didn’t want to discourage her friend, but Maud noticed that every time the Four Musketeers were together, Jack never walked close to Mollie or tried to take her hand, as Nate had when he’d first tried to show her how he felt. Maud wondered what would have happened if she had been in the same situation. Would she have been relieved, or as unhappy as Mollie was?