Maud lingered near on her Lake of Shining Waters. Next to Lover’s Lane, this was one of her favorite places on the Island. The more time she spent at Park Corner, the more she felt the fragile parts of herself mending. She was relieved to be back in a place where she could have a bit of anonymity, and if Aunt Annie had noticed a certain ring was missing, she never said. What’s more, Maud had no idea what awaited her in Cavendish.
Maud loved the bedroom she slept in at the top of the stairs. There was a lovely desk on the far wall where she would spend her evenings writing, and a double bed on the east side with a direct view of the window. The lush forest trees were like dark ghosts dancing with each other.
Clara, Stella, George, and Frede were always so full of joy that it was easy to get caught up in their adventures. After the first two nights, Maud went with Stella and Clara to French River for a Literary Society evening, where people debated the latest political theories, discussed literature, sang, or—as Maud herself had done in Cavendish and Prince Albert—performed poetry or a dialogue. There she was reintroduced to Lu’s shy cousin, Lem McLeod, and one of the Simpsons, Edwin, who had an air of appearing as if he would be above Queen Victoria herself if she entered the room.
Maud adored being among the loving Campbell family. Clara and Stella, who were only a few years younger than Maud, often peppered her with questions about boys and fashion. She wasn’t used to this. One evening, while they were all in bed, Clara asked Maud when she could wear her hair up. It reminded Maud of how she used to look up to Pensie, and she vowed that her cousins would always be dear to her.
“Are you writing one of your stories, Maudie?” A voice interrupted her daydreams, and Maud shielded her eyes with her hands to look up at her young cousin.
“No, just thinking, Frede.” She patted the earth. “Come, sit by me.”
Frede was wearing a blue printed calico dress and seemed to have lost her shoes; one of her braids had come loose. “I wanted to tell you about this beautiful butterfly that I found, but it flew away.” She frowned.
“That is what butterflies are supposed to do.” Maud put her arm around her cousin. “But you can tell me about it now.”
Frede described it for her and, after sitting quietly for a few moments she asked, eventually, a question: “What happens when you go and I have things to tell you?”
“Why don’t you write me a letter?” Maud said. “I’m actually a very good letter writer, and I love having faithful correspondents.”
Frede cuddled up beside her. “You’re my favorite cousin, Maudie.”
Maud kissed the top of her cousin’s head. “You’re mine too. But that will be our secret, Frede.”
CAVENDISH, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND SEPTEMBER 1891
CHAPTER FOUR
Maud had been back in Cavendish a little over a week, and it was now almost the end of September. School had already started and it would be impossible for her to catch up, or so she told herself. Everything was different.
At first, it felt as though she’d never left. When Uncle John Campbell had dropped Maud off at the homestead, both of her grandparents were there to greet her. Grandma had hugged her stiffly and told her that they had left things in her room as they were, while Grandfather reported that they’d a good apple crop.
And after Maud had climbed the familiar stairs to her old room, she saw that Grandma was right. The pictures Maud had pasted on the wall the previous year were still there, and a fresh, clean summer quilt had been laid out for her. “The nights are getting cool now; you’ll need that,” Grandma said.
After Maud had unpacked, she went down to call on Pensie, but then wasn’t sure what to do when she saw Quill on the porch. Pensie, however, stood up, ran over and embraced Maud for a few minutes. She looked exactly the same, but her auburn hair done up in a tight bun accentuated her thin chin, making her seem more severe. Afterwards, the two friends stared at each other for a full awkward minute before Pensie spoke. “So you’ve returned at last. You must find Cavendish simply provincial after your travels.”
“There’s no place like Cavendish,” Maud said. “You know that.”
Pensie laughed in a high-pitched way that made Maud wonder if it was more for Quill’s benefit than hers. “So you say,” she said.
The rest of the conversation was similarly awkward, and Maud left soon after, hoping that her reunion with Mollie would be better. They had exchanged so many letters while she’d been away, and Mollie had written to say she couldn’t wait to see Maud again.
But when Mollie came over for the mail, she was quieter than usual. And when Maud asked her what was wrong, Mollie actually snapped at her. Mollie had never snapped at her before.
To cover up the hurt, Maud asked if her friend had heard from Jack or Nate; Maud hadn’t heard from Nate all summer. This had the desired effect, as Mollie always enjoyed talking about things other people didn’t know.
“Nate was here in the summer,” she said, sitting down at the kitchen table. “You just missed him! And Jack took me to a bonfire Clemmie Macneill was having. I know what you’re going to say, but she was actually quite delightful.” Mollie tucked a stray curl back underneath her hat and sat up a bit straighter. “We had fun, but I think Jack and I are only going to be good friends.”
Maud suddenly understood why Mollie was so sad and snappish. “I’m so sorry, Mollie.”
“I’m fine, Maudie,” she said, looking out the window.
“No, you aren’t fine,” Maud said. “I know that expression all too well. Out with it.”
Mollie sighed and tapped the letter she was holding on the table. “Well, I heard Jack ask Nate if things were really over between the two of you and…and if he would mind if Jack gave it a go.”
Maud shivered, and it wasn’t from the early fall breeze. Why did boys have to ruin everything! “Maybe you misheard?” Maud said. “It is ridiculous. We have all only been friends.” Maud searched her memory for any moment when she might have made Jack think they were anything other than friends.
“There’s nothing ridiculous about it,” Mollie said. “You are genuinely more beautiful and intelligent than I am. A published author. Why wouldn’t he want you?”
Maud reached across the table and held her friend’s cool hand. “He’s ridiculous to not see what a fine person you are. You are joyful, Mollie. I hope you’ll keep that throughout your life. It is a gift.”
“Perhaps.” Mollie pulled her hand away. “But I want to marry for love.”
Maud wanted to take Mollie’s hand again, comfort her and tell her how they were still young, that things would work out for both of them, but it was clear that nothing she could say was going to help.