Being across the street from Grandpa Montgomery’s house also provided opportunities for Maud to get to know her Montgomery relatives better, and it was as if she was learning about them for the first time. She was older now, and they began to tell her many more family stories.
Maud was also in a flurry of creative activity, spending many evenings in her bedroom writing and studying. She was doing something that Pastor Felix called “spade work,” outlining stories and characters. Sometimes her characters emerged fully formed; other times, she didn’t know where they belonged. She had long abandoned the stories about dying queens and had turned to ones based on her own experiences.
After “From Prince Albert to P.E. Island” was published, things had become clearer for Maud. Upon rereading it, she recognized how pieces of her memory were woven into it. She had been so focused on writing a good essay that she hadn’t noticed how some of the descriptions, such as “to kiss the dew from the grasses and coquette with the waters of the blue Saskatchewan,” reminded her strongly of Will’s kisses. The way she described the rhythm of the train as they passed the “ripe Manitoban wheat fields and snug farmhouses” and the word snug reminded Maud of those nights cozying up with Laura on Laurel Hill.
It had made her somewhat embarrassed. Writing a piece of non-fiction was one thing, but to display one’s soul on the page for the world to see was something Maud had never considered. As a sort of test, she asked in her next letters to Will and Laura what they thought about the essay, but neither one spotted what she had unwittingly done.
It is high time you are recognized for your gift, Will had written, and Laura sent along some bluebells as a memento, which Maud later pasted into her scrapbook. Maud was relieved. It would require a crack team of Sherlock Holmes-esque investigators to ferret out the truth hidden among the flowery lines of prose.
Throughout the early spring, Maud continued to observe what magazines were publishing, and started a rough version of her short story about the sealed blue chest in Aunt Annie’s kitchen. If she was going to make a living from her words, she was going to have to understand how to do it—but once she did, nothing would stop her from taking that next step along the path.
Maud also made time for fun with her cousins. Sometimes it was joking and telling stories while they all sewed; Maud had finished her crazy quilt and was now working on one for her sister Katie.
On other nights they would go to the literaries in French River, after which she sometimes allowed Lem McLeod or Edwin Simpson to walk her home. While Edwin seemed to lose interest quickly (which Maud decided to not let bother her too much), she suspected that Lem had more serious notions than she did. She tried to keep it light and friendly, saving a distance between them when they drove home together in his buggy, but she wondered if it only encouraged him more. After all this time, she still didn’t know why she couldn’t be friends with young men. Maybe the only way was through letters?
But the rhythm of Maud’s time in Park Corner was interrupted when a letter arrived from the last person she would ever have expected: Aunt Emily, inviting her and her cousins to Malpeque for Easter.
MALPEQUE, PRINCE EDWARD ISLAND
CHAPTER NINE
When Maud had arrived at Aunt Emily and Uncle John Malcolm Montgomery’s doorstep in Malpeque three years before, after the Miss Robinson incident, the welcome hadn’t been friendly. Clouds had hung low over the two-storey stormy-gray house that stood proudly against the strong winds on a cliff that backed out to the Gulf.
Now, the way the house loomed over the cliff reminded Maud of the bleak moors in Wuthering Heights. Many things had changed since she’d been there; Maud had taken a lesson from Grandma’s book and had learned to hide her nervousness, so her cousins only saw a laughing girl who was excited to embark on a small adventure through the dreary late-winter afternoon.
Maud wasn’t sure why Aunt Emily and Uncle John Malcolm had invited her and the cousins up for the weekend. She had not heard from her aunt in months; most of the time, news came through other family members. But after a long talk with her Aunt Annie, she’d agreed to attend. Perhaps this was Aunt Emily’s way of making peace?
Since her time in Prince Albert, Maud had started writing to her aunt, but was never quite sure where to begin. Was she supposed to apologize for Mother dying and being put in Aunt Emily’s care? What could she possibly say to make it better?
Now, Aunt Emily and Uncle John Malcolm stood on the porch, the wind whipping her aunt’s dark skirt. Maud gingerly climbed down from the cutter in the midst of her cousins’ excited chatter, trying to ignore the gnarled root twisting in her stomach. She was shocked to see that her aunt had gained considerable weight. And the way she held onto her back reminded Maud of how her stepmother had held herself at the end of her pregnancy.
In addition to her four children—Charlotte, Annie, John, and Edith—Aunt Emily was expecting another baby. Was this why her aunt had brought her here, as a ruse to repay her by asking her to play nanny to her children? Is this all she was to her family?
“We were beginning to wonder if you would all make it,” cheerful Uncle John Malcolm said, hugging Maud.
“Yes, you are at least two hours late,” Aunt Emily said, looking Maud up and down in a way that made her want to go right back to Aunt Annie’s house.
“We had such a time getting here, Aunt Emily,” George said. “We got lost and went down the wrong road. It was terrible.”
“I don’t doubt it,” Uncle John Malcolm said. “This has been one of the worst Island winters.” He patted George’s shoulder. “Let’s get you all inside.”
As everyone walked to the house, Maud tried to get Aunt Emily’s attention, but she refused to look directly at her. Why had she invited her if she wasn’t even going to look at her?
The rest of the afternoon passed quite nicely; Maud had forgotten how funny her uncle was, and he kept everyone light and laughing. After dinner, Uncle John Malcolm went with the boys to tidy up the sleigh for the ride home, and Clara and Stella played with Aunt Emily’s daughters, Charlotte, Annie, and three-year-old Edith, so Maud went into the kitchen. She found her aunt preparing the bread for tomorrow’s breakfast.
“Thank you for inviting us, Aunt Emily,” Maud said. Why was it that after all she’d been through, Maud felt as if she were still a little girl in her aunt’s kitchen?
Her aunt placed a light cloth over the bread. “This was your uncle’s idea. He was saying we hadn’t seen you since you’d stayed here several years ago, and it was time we did.”
Maud swallowed the momentary pang of sadness—and tears. She stayed tall and strong. “Uncle John is a good man.”
Aunt Emily wiped her hands and sat down. She looked tired and sad.
“Are you well, Aunt Emily?” Maud said.