She tried returning to the rhythm of writing in the morning. Her piece of verse, “On Cape LeForce,” was almost ready to send to the Charlottetown Patriot and, while that prospect helped a little, it was still difficult to concentrate.
One evening, she and Edie went hazelnutting on the bluffs along the riverbank, which had a splendid view of the poplar trees and the water. Across the way, some of the Indian women and girls were picking Saskatoon berries, talking. Maud admired the soft, musical language they were speaking. Seeing them together reminded Maud of when she and her friends would pick berries together back home for pies. The thought of it reminded her of the last time she picked blueberries, and Nate.
Pushing the memory aside, she looked over at Edie, who seemed like a nice enough girl. Quiet, but good humored. And they did share a room. Perhaps they could be friends? Maud had never made friends with someone she hadn’t known practically her whole life and didn’t quite know where to start.
“Where do your people come from?” Maud asked.
Edie stopped picking hazelnuts and her shoulders tensed. “Why do you ask?”
Had she offended the girl? Maud had heard her grandmother ask such questions to people who were from away. This way, she said, one could gauge where in Scotland or England they came from.
“I’m sorry, Edie,” she said in a voice she reserved for her elders. “I was only making conversation. Given that we are spending so much time together, I thought it would be good to get to know one another.”
Edie’s shoulders dropped. “I see.” She tossed one of the hazelnuts into the basket. “My family lives in Battleford.” Maud took note that Edie didn’t go into a lot of detail about who her family was, or where they came from. She wanted to ask, but she thought it would be rude. She also knew what it was like to have a story you didn’t wish to tell.
“Most of my family is back in Prince Edward Island,” Maud said, searching for something else to say.
“Do you like it here?”
Maud gazed over the river. Two of the little girls were sitting close together, clearly telling secrets. Her mind wandered to the empty table in the hall. “I miss my friends. Pensie and Mollie, especially. They’re my bosom friends.” She also missed Nate, but she was certainly not going to mention him.
“I miss my family too,” Edie said. “But working for your family is a good opportunity.”
Maud had a hard time imagining working for Mrs. Montgomery as an opportunity, but she also knew that for some women it was the only option.
“My mother works as a maid for the wife of a North West Mounted Police officer,” Edie went on. “That’s how I got this position.”
She had overheard Mamma talking to Mrs. McTaggart about how grateful she was that the “half-breed” had decided to come with them so that she didn’t have to train someone else. Maud paused. Was it Edie they were talking about? Perhaps that was why she was so quiet?
One of the women across the river laughed.
If it was Edie they had been speaking about, perhaps she would know more about the women across the river. “Do you know what language those Indian women are speaking across the river?” Maud asked.
“They’re speaking Cree. In their language they call themselves Nehiyawak, meaning ‘the People.’ ” She moved over a bit and picked from another bush.
“It is quite beautiful.”
“Yes.” She picked up another hazelnut and stared at it for a long time. “My mother speaks Cree with the local women when they bring items to trade.”
“Do you speak it?” Maud said. “I always thought it would be wonderful to speak another language. We learned Latin in school, but I think French would be wonderful. I heard some men speaking it in Montreal and I wished to know what they were saying.”
Edie put the hazelnut in her basket and sat down sideways in the grass, her skirt covering her knees and ankles. “Actually…I speak a language that blends Cree and French, called Michif.”
“How very exotic,” Maud said, placing her basket down and getting comfortable.
Edie laughed. “I don’t know if it is exotic, but it is the language of the Métis.”
Maud returned her gaze to the river and listened to the sound of the wind through the poplar trees. If she closed her eyes she could almost imagine herself back on the island. “I love this,” she said after they had picked more hazelnuts. “The river. The trees. Maybe I’ll write a poem about it and send it home to Pensie.”
“It is beautiful,” Edie said. “Do you know that this river, the Saskatchewan, has a name that is Cree in origin? Perhaps you can use it in your poem.”
Maud smiled. She knew there was a reason she liked Edie. “I adore hearing about the history of a place. Please tell me its spirit.”
Edie smiled. “The Cree call this river Kisiskatchewani Sipi, which loosely translates to ‘swift-flowing river.’ ”
Maud gazed out over the river. “I wonder…my teacher, Miss Gordon, told us one day while we were studying the history of Prince Edward Island that the Indians who live there, the Mi’kmaq, called it Abegweit, which means ‘cradle on the waves.’ Do you think it is connected somehow? Isn’t that wonderful to imagine?”
“Yes.” Edie smiled.
Maud smiled back. They picked hazelnuts silently for a while. It was nice being with someone who had such a pleasant disposition, unlike her stepmother. “Edie, may I ask…why do you think working for my stepmother is a good opportunity?” She didn’t add anything about putting up with her sour nature. No opportunity could be worth that.
“One of the reasons I agreed to come to Prince Albert is because the high school allows Métis to attend. My sister only made it to sixth grade, but I want to be a teacher.”
“Me too,” Maud said.
“Do you!” Edie’s brown eyes brightened. “There are convent schools out East that are willing to take Métis women. Being a teacher is one of the few professions, besides being a maid, that is acceptable.”
It seemed she and Edie had more in common than Maud realized.
“Besides, with Mrs. Montgomery expecting, she’ll need my help and possibly give a good recommendation to the convent school about how good I am with children.”
Maud felt a creepy-crawly tickle down the back of her neck. “What do you mean ‘expecting’?”
“Oh no!” Edie dropped her pail, hazelnuts scattering across the grass. “I didn’t realize that Mrs. Montgomery hadn’t told you. I know that it is a delicate matter, but I thought…” She bit her bottom lip. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Please, don’t tell her I told you.”
Mrs. Montgomery. Pregnant.
“Why wouldn’t Father tell me?” Maud leaned her head against a tree. “I know it isn’t proper to discuss such things, but if I am going to have another brother or sister, I should know.”
Edie stepped timidly toward her. “I only know because I help Mrs. Montgomery with her maternity corset. She started wearing it this week. But, if she finds out I told you, she might send me back to Battleford.”
“Why didn’t she want me to know?” Maud said. “It doesn’t make sense. I am thrilled!” And Maud realized that despite how she’d found out, she was excited to have the opportunity to be a big sister again.
“I don’t know,” Edie said. “But I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Montgomery had plans for you.”
Plans? What kind of plans? Didn’t they know that she had plans of her own?
Maud closed her eyes. People talk of stillness, but for Maud the wind, the grass, the river, the trees were in motion.
After a while, Maud opened her eyes and promised Edie she would keep this to herself. Across the river, the Cree women and children still diligently worked. Maud would not let on that she knew Mrs. Montgomery’s secret. In time her stepmother would confide in her. She would work with Mrs. Montgomery, show her she was dependable, a daughter who would help her family with whatever they needed no matter the sacrifice.
—
&n
bsp; The following day, when Maud entered the dining room, Grandpa, Father, her stepmother, and Katie had already started eating breakfast. Maud tried to not think about Grandpa leaving at the end of the week. She had become quite fond of having him around; he was often a shield between her and her stepmother. This was never more apparent than that morning.
“Good morning,” she smiled at everyone.
“Is it?” Mamma—no, Mrs. Montgomery—said as Maud sat down, trying to see if the corset betrayed her stepmother’s secret. It didn’t. “Practically afternoon, I think.”
Maud toyed with her ring and checked the grandfather clock at the far end of the parlor. It was not yet 8 a.m.
“Maud is probably still tired from our travels, Mary Ann,” Grandpa said, wiping his mouth. “We don’t want her to be ill because she’s so worn out. Remember how Agnes McKenzie traveled from Halifax, caught a chill, and died?”
Father laughed. “I don’t see that happening with Maudie—Maud. She has a strong constitution.”
“She’s been here over a week,” Mrs. Montgomery said.
Grandpa placed his hand on Maud’s. “Even so, we don’t wish her ill, do we?”
In that moment, Maud wanted to beg her grandpa to take her with him. But she knew it was impractical; he had work to do in British Columbia, and she would only be in the way. She quickly sat down, surveying what was left for breakfast. Maud was suddenly not hungry, but she didn’t wish to worry her grandpa; he thought that if you didn’t have an appetite, you must be dying.
“Tea?” Mrs. Montgomery motioned the pot to Father.
“I think we have time for one more cup before we visit some people at the Kinistino Lodge,” Father said to Grandpa. “You know I helped to start it for Scottish expats when I first arrived in Prince Albert, and it’s thriving.”
Mrs. Montgomery poured Grandpa’s tea, then Father’s, and then her own before replacing the teapot on the table.
She ignored Maud’s cup.
Maud opened her mouth to ask for tea, again, but then Grandpa asked Father, “Did you tell Maud your news?”
Was he going to tell her about the new baby? Had Father changed his mind? Did he want Maud to return to the Island with Grandpa? Maud wasn’t sure if she was angry or relieved.
Father simultaneously winked and added some milk and sugar to his cup. “Your arrival was in the paper!”
“How exciting!” Maud clapped, finding she was, in fact, relieved to have been spared another journey—and the possibility of an awkward conversation about such delicate matters in front of her grandpa. Perhaps she was a bit hungry after all. She picked a piece of toast off the main plate and spread some butter over it.
“It was nice of the editor, J.D. Maveety, to mention it,” Mrs. Montgomery said to her husband, slowly sipping her tea. “Shows how well respected you are in the community.”
Maud eyed her own teacup. It must have been an oversight. Perhaps she didn’t think Maud wanted tea. She would be brazen and ask for tea, that was all. Maud was getting up the nerve when Mrs. Montgomery turned to her with a cold expression. “What are you waiting for, girl? You were late for breakfast; the least you could do is eat your toast quickly so you can help with the dishes.”
Maud had been used to Grandfather’s attacks, but something in Mrs. Montgomery’s tone pierced any last, faint hope Maud had of receiving a mother’s love from her. She hated her for it.
Maud cleared her throat. “May I have some tea, please?”
Father and Grandpa exchanged a look. Mrs. Montgomery’s face went pale. Without a word, she picked up the teapot and poured what appeared to be very strong tea.
“Thank you,” Maud said.
Mrs. Montgomery slammed the teapot down.
“Toast!” Katie said.
“Here, Katie,” Maud said, handing her little sister a piece of her toast, careful to avoid her stepmother’s eye. “Have a little bit of mine.”
What had she done in the brief time she’d been in Prince Albert to make Mrs. Montgomery behave so? She would rather have Grandma’s constant nitpicking than this inexplicable hostility.
“You know, Maudie,” Grandpa began, but he was interrupted by Mrs. Montgomery clicking her fork against her plate. Grandpa placed his napkin on the table, “if you miss Cavendish too much, you can always return with me when I come back this way in September.”
“Maudie—Maud will have started school by that time,” Father said.
Mrs. Montgomery started rattling the dishes together to clear them away. Maud stood up to help her, but she shook her head. “Don’t bother,” she grunted, and went into the kitchen. It was clear that Mrs. Montgomery, at least, would enjoy sending Maud home.
Soon the awkward breakfast came to an end, and Father went to tend to some business, leaving Maud and Grandpa alone.
“I meant what I said, Maudie,” Grandpa said, leaning toward her. “You don’t have to stay here.”
Maud didn’t know why she deserved her grandpa’s kindness after what had happened with Nate in Cavendish.
“Thank you, Grandpa,” she said. “But Father is right; high school starts next week. I’ll stay.”
CHAPTER FOUR
A few days later, Father and Mrs. Montgomery took Grandpa to the train station in Duck Lake. Maud said goodbye to him on the porch, little Katie clinging to her leg. The parting was bittersweet. Although Maud knew that she would see him again in a few weeks, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was losing an ally.
As soon as they left, Katie complained that she was hungry. “How about a little tea party, just you and me?” Maud asked, remembering the tea parties she and Aunt Emily used to have when she was small, before things went sour between them.
Katie nodded her head excitedly.
Maud extended her hand and the little girl took it. “Come with me.” And they toddled together to the kitchen. Maud put Katie in her chair and went to the pantry. She lifted the lock, but it wouldn’t budge. She tried again, nothing. After turning the knob left and right and struggling with it for a few minutes, she looked over her shoulder at her sister and said, “It appears to be stuck.”
“Stuck,” her sister repeated.
“Edie!” she called, searching the kitchen drawers for a key. Why was the cupboard locked?
Edie, who had been upstairs cleaning, came down, broom in hand. “Yes, Maud.”
“Do you know where the key to the pantry is? I wanted to have a little tea party with Katie, but it is locked.”
Edie swung the broom from one hand to the next.
“Edie?”
“Yes.” The broom swayed back and forth.
Maud strode over to the girl and stopped the broom. “The key?”
“She keeps it locked,” Edie said.
“What?”
“She keeps the pantry locked up.”
“Mrs.—Mamma locks the pantry?”
Edie nodded. “She says so she can keep track of things.”
This was madness. Katie needed to eat. Even her grandparents wouldn’t have done something so ridiculous.
“Is the cold box unlocked?” Maud asked.
Edie grinned. “Yes, there is no lock.”
Maud wiped her hands against her apron. “Excellent.” She went over to the cold box and found some cheese and milk. It would have to do.
She played with Katie most of the afternoon, crafting exactly what she would say to Father when he got home. But that night Father came in with letters from Mollie and Lu, and in her excitement to see them, Maud forgot all about it. Letters were exactly the elixir she needed.
—
The next day, Maud was outside in the back garden rereading the letter from Lu, which gave her the latest goings-on at school, when Mrs. Montgomery’s stepsister, Annie, who was Maud’s age, waltzed in. Maud reluctantly whispered a farewell to Lu and Cavendish, and put the letter in her pocket.
“Hello!” Annie said, making herself comfortable in the chair beside Maud. “Where are Mary Ann and
your father?” Annie was wearing a stylish navy blue skirt and matching bodice and her hair was pulled back with clips. Maud found herself envying Annie’s fringe bangs.
“They’re at the lodge,” she said.
“How are you finding things here?” Annie said, after a few moments of awkward silence.
“It is very different from Cavendish.” Maud wasn’t sure how much she could trust Annie.
“I’m sure.” Annie leaned back against the chair. “It was quite a change for us to move from Ontario to this rough country. And the dirt!” She slapped at her skirt. “No matter how often I beat this skirt it never comes clean.”
Despite herself, Maud laughed. “True.” She wiped the dirt off her own light brown skirt. “But it is an adventure. Certainly bigger than Cavendish.”
“Possibly.” Annie picked an imaginary speck off her shirt. “But compared to Ontario, Prince Albert is a backwater. Mother says thank goodness for the church or there would be nothing but drunken men philandering about. And there’s also the school, of course.”
When Maud arrived, she had heard Mrs. McTaggart say something similar, but she would have never dreamed of repeating it! She was both impressed and surprised by Annie’s candor.
“We have a new teacher this year, Mr. Mustard,” Annie went on. “You know he’s a friend of Mary Ann’s—they went to school together—and is supposed to be well educated.”
Maud got that familiar creepy-crawling feeling down her back; it tended to happen every time her stepmother was mentioned. What lies had her stepmother told Mr. Mustard? It wasn’t an ideal situation in which to produce a good first impression.
“I’m hoping he’ll be better than the last teacher, who couldn’t control the boys at all,” Annie went on.
“I miss my old teacher, Miss Gordon. She could control a room with one look.”
“Our teachers in Ontario were the best-educated,” Annie said. “So this Mr. Mustard has much to live up to.”
Maud Page 15
