Maud

“Maybe.” It felt right to have her head on her bosom friend’s shoulder, listening to the quiet breaking of the ice. How had it all gone so wrong?

After a few moments, Laura and Maud broke apart. Drying her eyes, her friend said, “We have you right now, so we are going to make the most of it and spend as much time together as possible.”

Maud smiled. Laura always knew the perfect thing to say.

But as the two friends gazed out into the mirrored reflection of the prairie twilight, watching Will walk along the river, Maud couldn’t help but notice how the crimson light accentuated Will’s auburn hair. He definitely had a way about him that intrigued and intimidated her. That made her want to know him better. That made her want to march over to him and run her hands through his auburn hair.

“I think Will allowed himself to get too close to you,” Laura said after a while. “Now you are leaving with no clue when—or if—you’ll return.”

“You could come and visit me…” But even as Maud said this, she realized the possibility would be as remote as Mrs. Montgomery’s acceptance.

Laura echoed her thoughts. “All we have is now. Until Providence shows us otherwise.” A stray piece of Laura’s hair stuck out under her hat and fluttered in the wind.

“I’ll miss you.” Maud hugged her, again, enjoying the comfort of her friend’s touch. “The idea of not seeing you every day makes my heart ache.”

They stayed that way for a long time. Holding one another as Will stood apart, deep in his own thoughts.

“I’ve done it again,” Maud said when they pulled apart and held hands.

“Done what?”

Maud didn’t answer. She hadn’t the strength right now to talk about Nate—bringing him up wasn’t right for the here and now. He was the boy of the past, a sorrow she could not undo. But here she had the opportunity to do things differently. Will wasn’t Nate. Will was…Will. He had kept Mr. Mustard away during school, putting himself at the risk of the whip, and had done more for her than—even if she didn’t want to admit it—her own father had.

As if hearing her thoughts, Will came slowly back to her. Laura let go of her hand and walked ahead; like the pieces of breaking ice on the river, the siblings changed places.

Maud felt the soft wind wash away the orange in the sky, along with whatever reservations either of them had. For a moment it was as though she was standing on the bluffs of Cavendish Shore, with Will breathing beside her.

Will took Maud’s hand. It happened so swiftly; if she’d had a second to think about it, she might have pulled away in fear. His hands were cool from the spring air and slightly coarse from fieldwork.

He whispered, “If I’m going to have the pleasure of your company for only a few more months, then I’ll be darned if I’m going to let this hand out of my sight.”

Her breath caught the wind.

“Maud, will you go riding with me this Saturday?”

The setting sun sparkled against the ice as she turned to face him. Once again she had to stop herself from running her hand through his auburn hair. “If I can get away,” she managed to say, “and Father can spare me.”

And when the twilight rose from the sun’s final bow, Laura came back to them and took Maud’s other hand and the three swayed with the river in silence.



That Saturday, much to Mrs. Montgomery’s dismay, Father gave Maud permission to go driving with Will. While Maud knew Grandma would never have allowed her to go out with a young man unchaperoned, after all of those nights alone with Mr. Mustard, there was little for her father to say against it. Plus, the Pritchards were a respected family in the community.

Will picked Maud up after dinner wearing a freshly pressed, blue button-down shirt (which accentuated his auburn hair), brown pants, his spring coat, and Sunday hat. Maud had put on her favorite brown-and-red tartan summer skirt and white waist with lace collar. She completed the look with a light brown hat she accentuated with some prairie flowers. His buggy was pulled by a new horse named Plato with a lush, dark mane and a skittish attitude.

“Where shall we go?” Will asked, clicking the reins.

Maud pondered the road ahead. “Must we have a destination?”

Will grinned. “I have an idea.” They drove by the river toward Goschen, the Hudson’s Bay trading post east of town. When they got past it, Will handed Maud the reins.

“I’ve never driven before.”

Will smirked. “I’m surprised that would stop you.”

She took them and held on tightly. It felt powerful and scary to have her life essentially in this horse’s hands. One false move and she could drive them into a slough.

“It is a balance.” Will held his hands over hers, and she loosened her grip. “Let the horse lead you, but you need to also be in control.”

“Easy enough,” she muttered, and was a bit sorry when Will let go. Still, she enjoyed driving, and after a while found herself allowing the horse to take them down the road.

It was a beautiful day: the sky was a crisp blue, and the poplars swayed in the gentle breeze. They turned up a road toward Maiden Lake, a park four miles away from Prince Albert.

“When the weather gets warmer, there are some nice trails to walk,” Will said, pointing in the direction of the park. “And last year there were a number of picnics, so perhaps we’ll have more.”

Would she still be in Prince Albert to have a picnic? “Sounds lovely.”

They rode south toward the park in silence.

“It is difficult to talk and drive,” Maud said at one point, thinking she wasn’t being a good companion.

“It will get easier,” Will said. “Once you trust yourself. And Plato.”

But Maud gave Will the reins. “If you don’t mind, I would rather watch this view as we talk. We were always told on the Island that the prairies were so flat, but not here. There are such handsome bluffs and hills.”

“It is pretty, isn’t it?” he said, and she was sure he was looking at her. They passed a few more trees. “I don’t know if I should ask you this, if it is prying, but I wondered how things were with your father.”

“They are what they are,” she said.

“You wish to remain mysterious?”

Did she? In some ways, she didn’t want to keep anything from this young man. But that would also mean no longer keeping things from herself.

“A few years ago, about four I suppose, I was staying at my Grandpa Montgomery’s home in Park Corner and I overhead my uncles talking about Father.” Will’s eyes remained on her, as if encouraging her to go on. “Why am I telling you this?”

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