Maud kept these questions to herself when she returned to school the following day. She also didn’t tell her friends what had happened. Still, they could all see she wasn’t in good humor. Mollie tried to make her feel better with letters, and even Nate sent her a note during French class asking if she was ill. A part of Maud had burned away with her journal and there was nothing anyone could do to bring her home to herself.
Instead of allowing her to go to Pensie’s that weekend, her grandparents decided that Maud should return to her Campbell cousins’ home in Park Corner for a few days to “get some distance.” Normally, Maud looked forward to visiting her Grandpa “Big Donald” Montgomery—a staunch Tory in the Senate who was home whenever Parliament wasn’t in session—her father’s brothers; her mother’s older sister, Aunt Annie; and the rest of the Campbell cousins. Grandpa Montgomery never made her feel as if she was a burden. She admired the two porcelain dogs, Gog and Magog, who regally sat on the mantel in his dining room; they were the first thing she’d visit when she arrived.
But this time, not even the two dogs could lift her spirits. So Maud decided to visit Aunt Annie, who always made Maud feel comfortable and safe. Aunt Annie encouraged Maud’s “scribbling,” and her cousins, Stella, Clara, George, and Fredericka (whom everyone called Frede), always made her feel as though she was one of them. It was a place she carried in her heart.
As usual, Aunt Annie knew exactly what Maud needed to do. She believed in keeping busy. “Idle hands is an idle mind,” she often said, and suggested starting a crazy quilt to get “her mind off her troubles.” Maud didn’t know if it would help, but she did enjoy sewing. Focusing on finding the various pieces to sew together did relieve the dull ache for a moment. And while sometimes Maud’s mind wandered, it felt good to create something when her heart was so heavy.
But when she returned to Cavendish the following Monday, seeing her grandparents brought that horrid night back. She needed to start over, but how?
After school, Maud acquired some old letter bills from the post office and sewed together a new notebook using some string and a scrap of red leather she found in the barn. Then, she took a long walk through Lover’s Lane. The light shimmered along the path, beckoning Maud to keep walking. She came to her favorite tree, with the entwined trunk, resembling two people in love. Maud called it the Tree Lovers, which inspired the path’s name. It was a truly romantic spot, with a broken-down fence nearby and a little creek where fireflies danced, whispering secrets to the fir trees and maple groves.
Sitting down underneath the Tree Lovers, Maud waited for the spark of inspiration to come. And when, like a flash of inner light, it came, Maud pulled out the new notebook and began writing about a new kind of diary, one that wouldn’t be silly musings about the weather.
And this one, she wrote, I will keep locked up.
CHAPTER SEVEN
That Friday evening, Grandma gave Maud permission to stay at Pensie’s. Maud was surprised. The whole week, the only time her grandparents spoke to her was to criticize: her table manners were abominable, she slouched, and her stitching wasn’t fine enough.
But after school on Friday, Pensie met Maud on the way home from school. “I begged Mother to appeal on our behalf and she did this morning, saying that you hadn’t visited overnight in so long and how much I missed you.”
“I missed you too!” Maud hugged Pensie, who returned her affection with a tight squeeze. It was probably so her grandparents didn’t have to worry themselves about her, Maud reasoned, but she wasn’t going to question it. Another weekend without their constant judgment was just what she needed.
Now, sitting in the MacNeills’ parlor, Maud, Pensie, and Mrs. MacNeill worked on their sewing. Maud laid her crazy quilt on her lap and gazed out the window. The sun was setting, making the red shore against the Gulf glow violet.
“Mother, isn’t Maud’s quilt looking quite good?” Pensie said, after a long while.
Maud wasn’t convinced her best friend was telling the truth. It was her first big sewing project, and she was sure she was making a mess of it.
When Pensie’s mother leaned over, Maud noted how much her best friend looked like her mother. “Yes. Lovely color scheme. That mauve is beautiful. You know”—she stood up—“I have a piece in my scrap bag that would be perfect. I’ll go and get it and be right back.”
“What’s wrong, Maudie?” Pensie asked once her mother had gone.
Maud picked up her quilt and started sewing again. She would rather Pensie focus on something other than her.
“You used to confide in me,” Pensie said.
“In letters,” Maud said, pulling up a thread.
“I still have all of mine,” Pensie said.
Pensie still kept her letters! “I hope they are in a secret place,” Maud joked.
“Of course!” Pensie laughed. “We wouldn’t want anyone to learn our secrets, would we?” Pensie stood up and peeked around the corner to make sure her mother wasn’t coming, and then sat back down. “I think I know what’s wrong.” She leaned over the chair. “You have quarreled with Nate Lockhart, haven’t you?”
Maud felt her cheeks warm. Between her grandparents and her journal, she had practically forgotten about Undine and Nate Lockhart. “No,” Maud said. “Why?” She put the quilt square on her lap.
“I asked Mother to tell me again about what caused some of the family to break away and join the Baptist church.”
“Really?” Maud had to wonder why Pensie was so curious.
“Yes,” Pensie said. “You deny it, Maudie, but if Nate Lockhart’s intentions are honorable, then you’ll have to decide if you’ll follow him to that other church.”
“Pensie MacNeill, even if I do find Reverend Archibald’s sermons a bit long, I’m a devout Presbyterian.”
Pensie held her hand up. “I knew you would say that, but perhaps Nate isn’t as devout. Perhaps he might be willing to cross over?”
“The Baptist minister’s stepson?” Maud guffawed. “Pensie, I think you’ve drunk too much currant wine.”
Pensie laughed. “All right. All right. Shall I tell you what Mother told me?”
Maud was pretty sure she’d heard the story before. Everyone in Cavendish knew it. But she let her friend go on anyway.
“Mother said that the break in the family came when our cousins—oh, I cannot remember their names—one was David, I think—married those two Dockendorff women who were Baptist. Everyone was concerned that these women would force their husbands to become Baptist, but they promised they wouldn’t. But Mother said they worked their wiles on our cousins to leave Presbyterianism and create their own church.”
“People are always blaming those women for leading the men away, as if they couldn’t think about it on their own,” Maud said.
“Most men need to be led,” Pensie said. “Look at Quill. He wants me to tell him where we’re going in the evenings. If it were up to him, we’d just sit in Mother’s parlor.”
“I don’t think Nate wants me to tell him what to do,” Maud said.