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 the 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?
“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