Maud

by Melanie Fishbane

  “Isn’t that Jack and Nate coming over the dune?” Mollie said.

  “Mollie Macneill, did you arrange a clandestine meeting?” Maud said, feigning shock.

  Her friend shrugged. “It isn’t my fault if the boys decided to take advantage of this early Island spring day and come down to the shore.” She took Maud’s hand. “You don’t have to tell him today.

  Her best friend was right. She needed more time.

  “I know things seem dire, Pollie, and your grandparents are adamant about ending it, but please let’s not ruin today. Let’s keep things as they are before…before it all changes.” Suddenly, Maud saw the sadness behind Mollie’s summery disposition. With all that had transpired, Maud hadn’t seen until now how this would affect her. Maud’s relationship with Nate wouldn’t be the only thing ending. With Jack and Nate going off to college, and Maud to Prince Albert, Mollie would be left here, alone.

  The idea hit Maud like the icy waves of the Gulf, and she felt so sorry for Mollie that she forgot her own troubles. But even as she did, she realized that Mollie didn’t want her pity right now; she just wanted one more day of fun, before reality set in.

  So Maud greeted Nate and Jack as if it were any other day, and the four friends walked closer to the Hole in the Wall. The sun was low in the sky, mirrored in the water, and Maud thought how beautiful, how perfect her Island was even when her heart was aching.

  “You seem quieter than usual today, Polly,” Nate said as Mollie and Jack walked farther ahead. Mollie laughed really loudly at something Jack said.

  “Just much to think about,” Maud said.

  “I suspect that’s much of your predicament.” He took her hand. “Thinking too much.”

  She laughed to cover up the tears in her throat. “Why do you think I write so much? My thoughts need somewhere to go.” There was truth in this. Whenever things did get too much—too emotional—she would write in her journal.

  “Come.” He pulled her along, closer to the Hole in the Wall.

  There was always a danger in crossing through, for if the tide came in, one could be swept up in it, but that was also part of the fun. They carefully stepped inside.

  They didn’t talk. The space was too small for sound. They leaned against the wall, still holding hands. A shiver of something that resembled repulsion or passion—she wasn’t sure—caressed her spine. They kissed, and somehow she knew that this would be the last time she would allow him to do it, allow herself to feel him. After today she would have to tell herself to harden her heart. Tell herself that his kisses repulsed her. Tell herself she never really loved him at all.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Her grandparents talked about sacrifice, but they would never know—no one would ever know—what she had given up.

  After that beautiful day at the Hole in the Wall, she had to make it clear to Nate that she no longer loved him. If she told him that her grandparents had discovered their secret, and about their ultimatum, she was sure Nate would only see this as another obstacle to cross. Nate was as romantic as she was, believing that their love could weather any storm. So, she would have to show him her feelings had changed. She would become detached. It was the only way.

  Even more challenging, she was still taking organ lessons. Grandma didn’t want to bring any attention, so she told Maud to go, but to behave herself and come straight home. It was impossible to refuse Nate when he offered to walk her home. She made him say goodbye to her before the cemetery. If his mother suspected anything, she didn’t let on.

  At school, it was worse. Maud avoided Nate, hoping that some distance would ease the blow to come. So when Nate approached her at lunch hour to go for one of their walks, Maud pulled Mollie away as if she hadn’t seen him, ignoring the profound hurt on his face. It also made it difficult for Mollie to see Jack. Maud felt bad about this, but Mollie was her friend first. She just hoped Mollie understood.

  Maud eventually told Pensie that she was leaving. She had looked so sad. She said she was sorry to have misjudged Maud’s father, and promised to write long letters, full of all the news. Maud almost mentioned the elopement then, but something stopped her. Soon she would see Father and ask him about it herself.

  But the longer Maud held off telling Nate—not only that she was leaving, but that they could no longer be together—the worse it became. No matter what she did, Nate would surely despise her, and the thought of him hating her was unbearable. It would be something she would have to live with forever.

  A week after Grandpa’s letter, Maud invited Nate for a walk through the Haunted Woods. They walked in silence for a long time. Knowing that this could be the last time they would have alone together, she found she couldn’t quite let him go.

  “I have something for you,” he said, pulling out a letter.

  She didn’t take it. She knew the kinds of things it said, and she couldn’t bring herself to read them. She couldn’t bring herself to tell the truth.

  “I’m going to Prince Albert in August,” she said simply.

  Nate crumpled the note. “So you decided it was better to ignore me rather than tell me the truth?”

  She stared at the letter. If she had taken it, then at least she would have had one last note from him.

  “I thought we were done keeping secrets.” He touched her arm. She knew she should pull away, but she couldn’t. She had a sudden desire to push his brown hair behind those irresistible ears.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you,” she said instead.

  “Your behavior hurts me,” he said. “After all we’ve been through, don’t you know how much I love you and will wait for you?”

  Maud’s chin shook from holding back her tears. It was true. His words echoed what she had always known. They were similar, so similar. For if she had loved him the way he loved her, she might have waited for him. Loving Nate meant not only defying her grandparents but also denying herself what she most desired—independence, a life of writing and education.

  She had something that would cut deep into his heart, something that would make him stop pursuing her, fighting for her, fighting for them. She hadn’t known until that moment if she would have to use it. But she did have to. She reached into her satchel and pulled out the book with the exquisite mermaid cover he had “lent” her all those months ago and held it out to him.

  He gasped.

  She turned away from Nate, focusing on Lover’s Lane, their woods. Would she ever be able to be here without thinking of him? Then the words bubbled up, echoing something Pensie had told her so many months ago. Maud spun around, finding the kernel of emotion that made her believe what she was about to say was true. Forcing the book into his hand, she said, “I think we were fooling ourselves, Nate. We love the idea of Love. That is what this is. I wish you weren’t so moony all of the time. It ruins things.”

  Nate’s face went white. Would he actually weep? She couldn’t bear it. “I believed that’s what you loved about me,” he stammered.

  Romance was wonderful in books, but in real life, love was something altogether complicated, painful. It was time for the final blow.

  “I think we can only be good friends,” she said.

  Nate took two steps, fumbling backwards, dropping Undine on the ground. She reached out to stop his fall, but he flung his arm out of the way. His casual demeanor was gone; his normally warm, gray eyes suddenly as cold as an Island storm.

  “Don’t you see, Maud,” he said, picking up the book. “We never were.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  We never were.

  The words cut through her like shards of glass.

  Maud tried to forget Nate and what he had said, but he was everywhere: school, concert practice, the Cavendish Hall. She’d see a boy on the road and think he was Nate. A final turn of the knife came when Nate sent Jack to return Little Women by way of Mollie. He couldn’t even give it to Maud himself.

  For a while she wasn’t sure she would be able to look at or read it again, b
ut a few days later she was in her room after dinner and picked it up from where she had left it on her bureau. She cried when she read about Jo reading Undine, but then she found herself back in Alcott’s world. There was comfort in returning to a place where she knew what was going to happen. She communed with it, cutting out a picture from the Young Ladies’ Journal of a young man with floppy hair and a clever smile who reminded her of Nate, and what she imagined Laurie to look like, and glued it to the title page. She underlined different sections this time, understanding Jo better now, and her ambition.

  When Maud finished reading it, her heart still ached for Nate, but she felt more sure of her decision. She hoped one day he would forgive her. Things weren’t always as clear in life as they were in books—and sometimes not even then. But she would never forget the first boy who loved her. Whom she had loved.

  —

  At the end of May, Miss Gordon announced the results of the Montreal Witness newspaper contest, with Nate coming in second and Maud third. Somehow, in all of the drama, Maud had completely forgotten about it.

  It smarted when Miss Gordon reminded Nate and Maud that they would read their essays at the June concert, and Nate wouldn’t even congratulate her. Not even when she wished him luck did he acknowledge her.

  But Maud was learning to hide her emotions, and she read her essay, proud and strong, even when it broke her. And this time, there was no standing ovation.

  Mollie was upset because, as Maud had foreseen, it was impossible for the Four Musketeers to remain as they were. More than once her best friend complained about this, and Maud wondered if Mollie blamed her. Eventually, they saw less and less of Jack, and Maud couldn’t help but feel guilty about the rift she had caused.

  School came to an end, which helped a bit, as Maud didn’t have to see Nate and Jack every day. Maud enjoyed her summer the best she could by doing things with her friends: berry picking with Lu, going to lectures with Pensie and Mollie. Jack and Nate were there, but they sat on the other side of the hall. She wished Nate would forgive her. He would see her and pretend she wasn’t even there. In a few weeks he was going off to college, and she would leave for Saskatchewan. She desperately wished to part as friends.

  Now that travel plans had been settled, and it was clear to them that she had broken things off with Nate, her grandparents were much easier with her. Most of the summer was spent preparing for her trip, sewing clothes Maud would need. “We don’t know what they’ve got out there in the Wild West, so we’d best make sure,” Grandma said on their way to Hunter River, where they would be doing most of their shopping. It wasn’t quite as big as Charlottetown, but it was only ten miles south of Cavendish and, being a main railway stop, had the materials they needed.

  Aunt Annie came to Cavendish to help Maud with her travel suit because everyone knew she had the best needlework this side of the Island and those out in Saskatchewan could not outdo her. She even convinced Grandma that it was appropriate for Maud to wear a long skirt because she was almost sixteen.

  Aunt Annie also showed Maud how to dress herself now that she had to wear a more severe corset instead of just a chemise. Drawers, chemise, corset, petticoat, corset cover, bustle, underskirt, skirt, bodice, jacket, and a hat—there were so many pieces that Maud wondered how she would manage. Maud had seen Pensie dress before, of course, but now she understood why her best friend had initially complained at getting up a half hour earlier to get herself ready. Maud was going to have to get used to the weight of these new layers.

  Toward the end of August, Maud was picking blueberries down by the school woods for a pie Grandma was going to bake, glad for the opportunity to take one last ramble before she left. She had allowed her hat to fall against her back, the sun stroking her skin. She was bent down, partaking of a few sweet berries, when she heard the familiar whistle.

  She stopped mid-chew.

  “Hello,” he said.

  She swallowed, placed her hat awkwardly back on her head, and stood up. “Oh, hello.”

  “Shall I walk you home as though it were old times, Polly?” he asked. “With a ‘y.’ ”

  She couldn’t help but smile when she heard her old nickname. “Yes, Snip.”

  Nate took her basket, and then popped a few pieces of fruit into his mouth. When a smear of juice ran down his cheek, he blushed and wiped it away.

  They were silent for a few steps and then he said, “So I’ll be leaving for Acadia next week.”

  “Mollie told me,” Maud said. “Father wrote me there is a high school in Prince Albert, so I’ll continue my studies.”

  “Do you still want to teach?”

  It felt so right to walk together and talk about the future, even if the future wasn’t going to be as either one of them had imagined it.

  “Miss Gordon advises it is a good profession for a woman,” she said. “And then I can write too.”

  “Perhaps you’ll become famous like Louisa May Alcott,” he joked, but there was an edge to his teasing she hadn’t heard before.

  “I’ll never be Alcott,” she said, suddenly wishing they hadn’t taken this walk.

  When they reached the path to Maud’s grandparents’ house, he leaned against the old tree and, handing her the basket, crossed his arms over his chest. He looked at her like he had a year ago—like he could see through her. She ached for those days of friendship. Of love.

  “When do you leave? I hate to think of Cavendish without you here,” he said.

  “This Sunday after church, I think. It depends on whether my Uncle Cuthbert can get away. I’ll be staying with Grandpa Montgomery and then we’ll be traveling west together.”

  “It sounds as though it could be quite an adventure,” he said.

  “I hope so,” she said. “I need a change. I’ve disappointed—everyone.”

  Nate didn’t contradict or defend her. Why would he?

  He took a step forward.

  “I will miss you, Maud,” he said. “That day at the Hole in the Wall.” He breathed out through his nose. “I’ve gone over what happened and it doesn’t make any sense. It all seems so sudden.”

  “It was a wonderful afternoon,” she smiled back, forgetting herself.

  He reached out for her hand, but she pulled back. “I see,” he said, letting his hand fall against his leg. “Can you at least tell me what happened to change your feelings? What I did?” He blinked and sniffed. If he cried now, she would let her guard down, and he would know how much she still adored him.

  Why couldn’t she have loved him enough?

  “It was nothing you did,” she said, finally. “But we come from different traditions and want different things. We are romantics, you and I.” It would be so easy to take his hand. But he was staying east, she was going west. She had grand plans and—as much as it pained her—they didn’t include a future with Nate Lockhart.

  “Will you write to me?” she asked.

  “Do you want me to?”

  “I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t want you to.”

  He smiled, sadly. “Letter writing was something we were always good at.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  There was one more thing Maud had to do before she left Cavendish.

  The night before she was due to leave, Maud and Pensie took their last walk along the shore, and Maud finally told her about what had happened with Mrs. Simpson and Mrs. Clark, and what they had said about Maud’s parents. Maud watched Pensie’s expression change from shock to sadness and then to anger.

  “How could you keep something so important from me?” Pensie said.

  “I was ashamed,” Maud said.

  “Ashamed of your parents, or ashamed of what you thought I might say?”

  Maud couldn’t answer that. As usual, Pensie could see right through her.

  “Pensie,” Maud said, allowing her tears to come. “Please, forgive me. It has been such a challenging time.”

  “What about your precious Mollie?” The venom in Pensie’s tone
surprised Maud. She’d always suspected Pensie disliked Mollie, but she hadn’t thought she hated her.

  “What about her?” Maud said.

  Pensie didn’t say anything for a long while. She had turned toward the Gulf, her brown hair had come loose, and her crying mingled with the wind.

  “Please,” Maud said. “Say something.”

  Pensie turned around. “I know that I can be difficult. That I am bossy and always telling you what I think. But it is only because I love you, Maudie.”

  “I love you too, Pensie,” Maud said. “But you were off with Quill, and Mary, acting as though you didn’t need us—need me—anymore, as though our friendship didn’t mean anything.”

  “That’s not true!”

  “It is true! Ever since the week of lectures in January you’ve been different. Sitting with Quill and Mary, saying that my friends and I were like children.”

  “Well, what about you and Mollie, and those boys? You had your own little group that didn’t include me,” Pensie said. “And if I have been different, it is because I’ve had things going on too.”

  “What things?” Maud asked.

  Pensie sniffed. “Quill has asked me to marry him, and I have not refused him exactly, but I haven’t accepted either.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I know what you think of him—oh, don’t give me that look, Maudie. You think him dull, and one thing you cannot tolerate is someone who is dull.”

  Maud smiled then. She couldn’t help it. Pensie knew her so well. Seeing Maud smile, Pensie did too.

  “I guess we both have something to be sorry about,” Pensie said.

  “Do you forgive me then?” Maud said.

  “Yes,” Pensie said. “But it might take me a while to trust you.”