When the tea was done, Maud thanked Mrs. Spurr and took the long way home through Lover’s Lane, pondering what the minister’s wife had said.
Things were always clearer on Lover’s Lane, where she felt close to the spirit of the woods. Since she had returned to Cavendish, Maud had walked it many times. The woods had cradled her again as she wept for the boy she had left behind, and the disappointments of life in the West. But now, among the embrace of yellow birches and the feathery leafy arches, anything seemed possible.
Maud walked over to the small pond and sat down on a nearby rock, watching a lone crimson leaf calmly floating on the pond’s mirrored surface. Could she do it? Was it even possible?
The leaf dipped toward Maud and she picked it up. Its brilliant red color was so bold. Staring at it, Maud knew she had to be as well. If it was a chance to make money, to become independent, then she should take it and not waste this opportunity.
When Maud arrived home, she went directly to her room and placed the leaf in her scrapbook. She then began sorting through the papers and books Miss Gordon had given her. Yes, she could do this. She would make it work.
Later, when Maud came downstairs to help with supper, Grandma asked, “How was your visit with Mrs. Spurr?”
“Very pleasant.” Maud picked up a potato and a knife and started peeling.
“What did she say?”
Maud watched Grandma peel the potato skin in one long piece. “She mentioned how well Nate was doing in school.” The peel looped itself into a lovely swirl. “And we discussed other things.”
“Oh?”
“We spoke about her life in Halifax and the organ.”
“Are you thinking of taking lessons again?” Grandma asked. “Because I don’t think I can pay for more.”
“No.” Her latest decision made Maud feel brave. “Actually.” She put the potato in a wooden bowl and picked up another. “Mrs. Spurr suggested I could do something she did.”
“Marry a minister?” Had her grandmother actually chuckled? “I don’t think you have the temperament.”
The notion made Maud burst into laughter and drop the potato, and her grandmother shook her head, but then smiled.
“She suggested that I teach organ.”
Grandma peered over her glasses. “Really?”
“Yes,” Maud said. “She said one could make a nice living at teaching the organ, until one marries.” This last line Maud added for her grandmother’s benefit, since she still had no intention of marrying anyone.
“Hmmm. Well, you won’t be doing anything unless we get this dinner on,” Grandma said. “Peel faster.”
“Yes, Grandma.” Maud knew now when to stop pushing and allow the idea to bud in her grandmother’s mind, so she continued peeling, watching the red skin spin in lovely strips onto the table.
CHAPTER SEVEN
As November grew colder, and her seventeenth birthday approached, Maud continued to study diligently, writing short stories and verse, as well as helping her grandmother organize the daily mail in the post office, practicing organ, and helping Miss Gordon. Maud tried to hold onto the small hope that if she studied hard, she could return to school and prepare for the entrance examination.
Some things were encouraging. “From Prince Albert to P.E. Island” had been accepted by the editor of the Charlottetown Patriot and then reprinted in the Prince Albert Times. And what was more, the editor at the Patriot had asked her for more pieces! Mrs. Spurr had also written to Pastor Felix, who had sent her a reply requesting some of Maud’s poems. Maud was quite daunted by having to choose which ones to send.
One evening, Maud returned to writing Laura a letter she had started earlier that day. Writing always helped to clear her mind.
Tonight I stayed home to write and study; such a change from last year, when I was constantly looking for ways to escape Mrs. Montgomery’s tyrannical gaze. Of course having you and your brother around helped. You saved me, Laura. Have I ever thanked you for that? If not, let me thank you now.
I wish you could convince your father to continue with art school. You have such a wonderful talent. I remember when Will and I went to see your show at St. Anne’s. That landscape you had painted of Laurel Hill perfectly captured the spirit of your home. What I hope to do in words, you do in art. Just think: we could run off together, and you could paint and I could write! And, yes, Will could come along too and study medicine. All three of us would be free. Free to dream!
Deepest love,
Maud
P. S. Thank Will for the notebook and pencils, and tell him I’ll thank him myself as soon as I’m able.
Maud put the pencil Will had given her down, willed herself to go to her chest, and picked up one of her old school notebooks. Opening it to the front cover, she traced the poem “The Alpine Path” she had pasted there almost two years earlier with her index finger.
And she had succeeded, hadn’t she? She’d been published four times now. But if she was going to make her living writing, she would have to learn about the markets she was writing for. Already she’d been studying the Sunday School magazines, such as the Boys’ and Girls’ Companion, and reading the Young Ladies’ Journal to see the stories they were publishing. She wanted to find the right home for a short story she was working on about the blue chest.
There were a few good pieces. Maybe. Somehow, sending Pastor Felix some of her work felt different than sending it to a magazine or newspaper. He was a published author. If she was going to climb the Alpine Path, she was going to have to take the journey—and herself—seriously. With renewed determination, Maud found “June” and started copying it down to send to him.
—
Maud received a letter from Pastor Felix a week before Christmas. She was delighted to learn that he had been very impressed with her submissions. And he had even offered her some advice on how she could get published in more magazines. Things worked in her favor as, after Christmas, one of the worst winters on record hit the Island. Biting cold and snow set a stranglehold on the roads, and people stayed close to home, only going out when necessary. School was closed so Maud was happy to focus on her studies and stories, without the guilt of having to take time out for social events with her friends.
Around Valentine’s Day, the weather calmed down and the mail could finally get through. Maud received a parcel from Will, which included a box of the candies she loved, the same ones he had given at the Maiden Lake picnic, and a letter. She avidly read the letter near the fire, enjoying one of the candies as her grandmother sewed. Her grandfather had already gone to bed. Thankfully, Maud got so many letters and parcels from her friends in Prince Albert that her grandparents didn’t question the contents anymore. It had bothered her at first that she didn’t get as many from Father, but he did send her news every now and then.
January 29, 1892
Dearest Maud,