Down Jasper Lane (Amherst Island Trilogy Book 1)

by Kate Hewitt

The depot was impressive in its own way, yet completely different from Chicago’s palatial Union Station. Made of adobe with brick archways and Spanish roof tiles, it made Ellen feel as if she’d left the United States entirely.

  As she stepped off the train, the crisp, dry mountain air hit her in full force, seeming to suck the breath from her very lungs.

  There were few people getting off the train, and even fewer on the platform, yet she still didn’t recognize Da. She looked around nervously, aware of how strange a place this was and how far from home she had traveled.

  She’d sent a telegram informing Da of her arrival, yet who knew if he’d received it? What on earth would she do here, if he didn’t come? This was far worse than being left at the little station on Amherst Island, or even in Seaton.

  “Ellen?” The uncertainty in the Scots’ brogue had Ellen turning. A man stood before her, a man she’d passed over in her search for Da. A man, she saw now with a lurch of her heart, who was her father.

  “Hello, Da.”

  He looked at her in wonder, and then took a shuffling step forward as if he wanted to embrace her but was afraid to reach out and touch her.

  Ellen moved as well, putting her arms around him. He was thinner, stooped, his hair gray under his greasy cap, his jaw flecked with white stubble.

  “You’ve changed,” he said in a voice choked with emotion as they stepped back from each other. “I’ve never seen you so fine.”

  Ellen inclined her head, unable to put into words that her father had changed as well. Of course, she should have expected him to be older, grayer. But she had not anticipated how worn and work-weary he would seem, as if the joy of life had been sucked right out of him. There was no sparkle in his eyes, no spring to his step. He had become an old man, and he was not yet fifty.

  Ellen remembered their hopes from the ship, the house they would build, the life they would lead together, the dog and the garden, and swallowed past the lump of regret in her throat.

  “I’ll take you home,” Da said with a shy little smile. “It’s not much, but it’s mine. For now, anyway.” He bobbed his head and reached for her valise, although Ellen was afraid it might be too heavy for him. “We’re together now, Ellen. It’ll be good for us.”

  She nodded mutely, wondering how this place could ever be home, how this man could be her home. He was a stranger, as much as the elegant Henry McAvoy had been.

  Da shouldered her valise as they stepped out onto Front Street. All of the buildings in Santa Fe were similar to the depot, built in the Spanish mission-style with mud bricks and terra-cotta roof tiles.

  “You’ll like it here,” Da said with a bit of his old confidence as they walked along the wooden platform that served as a sidewalk. “There’s nowhere with cleaner air or better living, I warrant you.”

  Ellen nodded again. With his gaunt face and stooped shoulders her father did not look as if he’d had enough good living, to her eyes.

  “I wanted to get a cab for you,” he admitted sheepishly, “or at least a mule. But these are hard times for everyone.”

  “There’s no need,” Ellen said swiftly. “I can pay my own expenses while I’m here.”

  “I won’t have that.” Her father straightened, fire flashing in his faded eyes. “I know I paid little enough for your keep over the years. I never thought things could be so dear.” He looked away, embarrassed, and Ellen’s heart ached.

  After a few more minutes of walking, the sharp mountain air searing her lungs, they reached a row of mud-brick shanties huddled against the rail line, the bleak shape of the mesas jutting against a crystalline sky in the distance.

  “Here we are,” Da announced cheerfully, and ducked into one of the squat buildings.

  Ellen blinked as she adjusted to the dim light of the hut. The dwelling comprised two rooms, crude windows cut into the mud brick walls with waxed paper nailed across. The floors were made of packed earth and covered with bright but threadbare woven rugs, and she saw a pot-bellied stove in one corner. The only other furniture was a table with two stools, and in the back a cot with some woven blankets thrown over it.

  It was, she thought sadly, poorer than anything they’d had in Springburn.

  “It’s not much, I know,” Da said, “but it’s home. I’ll make us some tea.” He picked up a tin kettle and went out to the communal pump for water.

  Ellen sank onto a stool and pressed her fists to her eyes. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but not this, the pitiful remnants of the life Da had carved out for himself from this harsh and unforgiving land.

  He’d wanted so much from this country, for himself, for her. Why had he settled for this? Why hadn’t he come back?

  “You must be tired,” he said, injecting some determined cheer into his voice as he lit the stove. “This will set you right.”

  “Thank you.”

  Her father put the kettle on, busying himself with the small, mundane task for longer than necessary. The silence stretched between them, and Ellen was conscious of how little she had to say. There had been so many words, so many dreams and regrets, hopes and griefs, she’d wanted to share with him over the years, yet now she had no words for this stranger. She had nothing.

  Finally Da turned from the stove, smiling awkwardly, and joined Ellen at the little table. “I wish there were some biscuits...” He trailed off, hunching his shoulder, and Ellen shook her head, smiling.

  “It’s all right. I ate on the train. I’m not very hungry.”

  “We can go to the caff for a slap-up meal later,” he told her. “I’ve enough for that.”

  “Good. Lovely.” Ellen nodded, still smiling, but the silence was there again, heavy and palpable, exhausting her. “Are you happy here, Da?” she finally asked. “I could tell so little from your letters.”

  He glanced down at his hands folded on the table, knotted and work-worn. “Happy enough,” he said at last. “Happy as any man can be.”

  “You like working on the engines?”

  He shrugged. “It’s work.”

  The kettle boiled with a shrill whistle, and Da set about making cups of tea. Ellen cradled her tin mug in her hands and blew on the hot liquid.

  Da settled himself in the stool across from her once again and they drank in silence.

  “Sometimes I wonder what would’ve happened, if I’d stayed,” he said after a moment.

  “In Seaton?”

  He shook his head. “No, in Scotland.”

  Ellen gazed at him in surprise. “You’d always wanted to get away from there.”

  “I’ve wanted to get away from everywhere I’ve been,” Da admitted ruefully, although a deeper regret laced his words and shadowed his eyes. “It’s just the way I’m made, I suppose. The only reason I haven’t set off from this place is there’s nowhere else for me to go. And I wanted to see you again. I wanted to be together again.” He was silent for a moment, his expression brooding. “I know I haven’t done right by you, Ellen, and I expect you’ve grander plans than keeping house for me in this mud hut. I’m not to keep you here. Ruth’s written me with all the things you’ve done, the schooling you’ve had.”

  “I didn’t know she wrote you,” Ellen whispered.

  “Yes, every month like clockwork. So proud of you, she was.”

  “I know.” Ellen’s smile wobbled and she took another sip of tea. She knew now. She only wished she’d known—she’d had the eyes and heart to know—before.

  Her father reached out one gnarled hand to rest it on top of hers. “I’m proud of you too, Ellen. Real proud. You know that, don’t you?”

  Ellen nodded, her throat tight. “Yes,” she whispered, “I know.”

  “Of course, if you were to stay with me...” Da smiled sadly. “But this is no place for you, is it? It never was. That’s why I didn’t bring you in the first place.” He stared down at his tin mug of tea, shaking his head. “I always felt badly you had to nurse your mam and miss your own schooling. I didn’t feel I did right by you in S
cotland, and I was afraid the same would happen in America. You’d be keeping house for me again, if I brought you out here... or anywhere.”

  “And if you’d stayed in Seaton?” Ellen asked quietly.

  Da looked up with a weary smile. “Ah, Ellen, I could never do that. There wasn’t a place for me there. Ruth wouldn’t have me behind the counter, not with my accent and rough ways. She polished Hamish up, I know, but I’m a different kettle of fish altogether.”

  Remembering her father’s snapping black eyes and ready grin, she had to agree. “There could have been something else for you,” she said, even as she knew it wasn’t true.

  “Maybe,” Da said, “but I wasn’t happy there, Ellen, and I didn’t want to bring you down with me.” He paused, and there was blatant need in his voice and on his face as he asked, “And you’ve been happy, haven’t you? Aunt Ruth and Uncle Hamish, Rose and Dyle, they’ve all been good to you, haven’t they?”

  Ellen stared at him, remembering the misery of her first months in Seaton, alone, abandoned. But there had been so much happiness to follow. There had been joy. She thought of Ruth the last time she’d seen her—you know your family—and then she smiled. “Yes, I’ve been happy.” There was no point blaming Da for what he’d done or who he was, not now, when it was far too late. Whatever relationship they might have had was a thing of the past, a figment of her imagination. Ellen saw the naked relief on her father’s face, and she reached for her valise, thinking of the long-ago sketch she’d once meant to give him.

  “Da,” she said. “I have something for you.”

  The leaves were drifting from the trees in lazy scarlet circles when Ellen walked up Jasper Lane in early October. She’d left her valise at the ferry, as she hadn’t sent word of her arrival. The walk was a long one but she didn’t mind. The sky was hazy and blue, the breeze warm, and she wanted to be alone. She wanted to think through everything that had happened, and finally, firmly decide the first steps towards her future.

  It had been good to see Da, Ellen had come to realize, because in a strange way it had set her free. She loved him and she knew he loved her. That would have to be enough, because she knew now they would have no life together. They’d changed too much, grown too far apart as they pursued separate destinies, and it would continue to be so.

  After leaving Santa Fe, she’d stopped at Seaton and stayed for a few weeks, to see Uncle Hamish. He was coping well, the townspeople surrounding and supporting him.

  “What will you do?” Ellen had asked one evening, and Hamish smiled.

  “Stay here. I don’t know what else I’m good for, really. I know the world is changing, and the days of the general store might be nearing an end, what with the catalogue store right on Main Street. Sears Roebuck, it’s called, and it sells more than I ever could.” He sighed. “But I’m still making a living, at any rate.” He paused, his eyes bright. “And speaking of that, Ellen, there’s something I want to tell you. I told you I had some put by, and besides that it turns out your aunt left you something, a legacy I’d call it, although that might be too grand a word. It’s not much, enough to see you through a few years perhaps, with whatever you want to do. The details are with the bank. I didn’t know about it myself till she passed on, but she wanted it for you. She put a bit aside for you, every month.” He paused, his voice choking with emotion. “She did love you, Ellen.”

  “I know,” Ellen said quietly. “And I loved her.”

  They’d just both had strange ways of showing it.

  Now as Ellen saw the McCafferty farmhouse in the distance, heard Pat’s barking and a faint trill of laughter, she smiled. No matter where she went, this was home.

  Ellen squinted and saw a figure in the distance down the lane. For one moment she thought it was Lucas, but then she remembered he would be in Kingston by now, at Queen’s. The figure came closer, and Ellen saw it was Jed. He was leading a pig by a rope.

  “Ellen!” He smiled with some of the old ease and affection they had lost. “World traveler that you are. You’ve been to New Mexico and back! How is your father?”

  “He’s well.” Ellen pointed to the pig. “You’re not leading that poor old sow to the slaughterhouse, I hope?”

  “Not yet. She needs some fattening up. No, she’s wandered into our garden and I’m bringing her back to yours. Pa would be right cross about it if our pig wasn’t doing the same.”

  She fell into step with Jed, the pig trailing reluctantly behind them, with Jed giving the beast a tug forward every now and then. “How have things been here? Any news?”

  “The old Togg farmhouse burned down, and most said it was a blessing. And the McClellands are bringing a motorcar to the island—they’re going to drive it over on the ice when the lake freezes over.”

  “I expect everyone on the island will have a motorcar, sooner or later,” Ellen said and Jed shook his head in disbelief.

  “It doesn’t bear thinking about. I’ll stick to horses, thanks very much.”

  “And what about Lucas and Peter?” Ellen asked. “They’re off to Kingston?”

  “Yes, they went last week. Half the island saw them off, as usual.”

  Ellen smiled, picturing it. “Good.”

  Jed cleared his throat. “Louisa took the same ferry. She travelled back to Vermont.”

  Ellen nodded, her eyes on the ground and her measured steps. “You had a good visit?”

  “Yes.” Jed was silent, and Ellen waited, knowing there was something more to be said. “There’s a bit more news,” he finally said. “The thing is... Louisa and I are engaged.”

  Ellen nodded, silent for a moment. She’d expected no less. Yet she found the news didn’t hurt as much as she’d thought it would. It still hurt, there was no denying that, but not with the crippling pain she’d felt a few months ago. She looked up, meeting his gaze, and smiled. “I wish you happy then, Jed.”

  Jed jerked his head in a nod. “She’s going to move up here next month,” he continued, “and stay with the McCaffertys until the wedding. We’ll be married in December. She says she doesn’t mind being a farmer’s wife.”

  “And so she shouldn’t.”

  Jed looked down at the ground, one worn boot scuffing the dirt. “It seems odd, the way it’s all happened. I never expected...” He trailed off, still gazing at the dirt.

  “She loves you,” Ellen said gently. “I know that. And you love her?”

  He glanced up at her, and she saw so much raw and pained emotion in his gray eyes. “Love is a funny thing,” he finally said, and Ellen nodded.

  “It is, at that.”

  He took a deep breath, his gaze steady on hers. “I used to think... a long time ago... that there might have been something...”

  She shook her head, the movement one of quick denial. “Don’t, Jed. Not when you and Louisa have so much to look forward to.”

  His eyes clouded, and part of Ellen wanted to rail at him. If he’d ever thought the two of them had a future, why hadn’t he said? Why had he let Louisa turn his head, and why had he fallen into this engagement? Yet she knew there was no point to such demands now. If Jed had told her he loved her, would she have even realized she loved him? They’d always been so prickly with one another, and she hadn’t known her own heart for so long.

  “That we do,” he finally said, and turned away from her to continue up the lane. “That we do.”

  And that was that, Ellen thought with a pang. That chapter of her life and her hopes was closed and finished. And while she still felt a sweet sorrow flood through her, it wasn’t the devastating ache of a few months ago. She was stronger now, with new hopes and plans. Just like Louisa and Jed, she had so much to look forward to.

  Jed glanced up the lane. They were near the house, yet still far away enough to remain unseen. “You coming up?”

  Ellen nodded. “In a minute.”

  She watched him go up the lane, a fond, familiar figure. She didn’t know why she felt as if she were losing him now, when surely if
she’d ever had him, she’d lost him long ago.

  Yet with that pang of loss came another emotion, one Ellen let fill up her heart like a sail. Hope.

  A chapter of her life might have finished, but a new one was just beginning, a crisp, blank page upon which to write her fledgling dreams and ambitions.

  A wind blew off the lake, a crisp wind of autumn, ruffling her hair and promising frost. The wind of change, Rose would call it. Ellen thought of the catalogue store in Seaton, the motorcar coming to Amherst Island, the sketches she’d sent Henry McAvoy. With the legacy from Aunt Ruth, art school was now a distinct and wonderful possibility. Yes, the winds of change were blowing.

  The sun was setting fire to the horizon as she lifted her face to the breeze.

  “Blow, winds of change,” Ellen whispered with a tremulous smile. “And take me with you.”

  Continue Ellen’s story with the second book in the Amherst Island trilogy,

  On Renfrew Street, available in Summer 2016—turn the page for a sneak peek!

  Also check out Kate’s other books at www.kate-hewitt.com

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  A sneak peek of On Renfrew Street, the second book in the Amherst Island Trilogy.

  “Care to dance, Ellen?”

  Ellen turned to see Jed’s brother Lucas smiling at her. They hadn’t spoken much since Lucas had declared his love for her last May, and she felt an uncomfortable awkwardness at seeing him now.

  “I’m...” she began, and Lucas smiled wryly as he held out his hand.

  “For old times’ sake, if nothing else?”

  “Not just old times, Lucas,” Ellen answered. Regret rushed through her at the thought of how things had changed between them; before that party at Queen’s, they’d been good friends. “I’m honoured to dance with you.”

  She took his hand and soon they were dancing amidst the other couples.

  “Are you looking forward to going back to Queen’s?” Ellen asked. “It’s not long now.”

  “No. And I am looking forward to resuming my studies for my last year.” He smiled whimsically. “I’ll have to start buckling down, you know. Looking for work.”