Maud was turning the page when she heard the familiar whistle—like an old, half-forgotten song. She couldn’t control the involuntary feeling of warmth that washed over her, from the back of her neck all the way down her spine. Slowly, she lifted her head and watched as he walked toward the door with the same swagger he’d always had.
Nate. He was taller, but otherwise, except for a more defined chin and mustache, he looked the same. She dropped her head and pretended to read, praying there was no stamp ink on her face or clothes, nervously closing her book and then reopening it. She wouldn’t give Nate the satisfaction of seeing how much he’d flustered her. She hadn’t heard from him in months and had thought their friendship finished, a long-ago pleasant memory. She focused on Tennyson.
“Reading love sonnets?”
She slowly lifted her head up over the book. “You know what I think about those, Nate Lockhart.”
“I know what you would wish people to believe, Maud Montgomery.”
How was it that he could still charm her with that grin?
“I wondered if we could go for a walk?”
“You’re not here for the mail?”
“Yes, but it would be nice to reconnect with you, Polly.”
The nickname rekindled an old spark that was as familiar as a hymn on Sunday morning.
“I’ll check to see if there is any mail.” She thought she had overcome the way she used to feel when he looked at her, but perhaps one never quite recovers from one’s first love. There were two envelopes, which she brought back and handed to him.
“Give me a few moments to put these things away,” she said, while he inspected his mail.
About twenty minutes later, Maud and Nate were rambling through Lover’s Lane, the boughs and arches protecting them, giving them a place to walk unnoticed.
Nate talked of poetry and the law, and how he hoped to eventually set up a practice. As he spoke he grabbed hold of a branch, breaking off a leaf, snapping it in half.
They stopped and leaned against the broken fence.
“Will you be coming back here?” she asked.
“To visit. But if I plan to go to Dalhousie in Halifax, I think Nove Scotia is my home now. It is where I was originally from, after all,” he said. “How about you?”
Maud took a few steps toward the brook, leaning into the leafy embrace of her favorite tree. “After traveling across Canada, things are different; they’re smaller here than they once were.” She turned around and faced him. “I would love to go to college in Halifax.”
“A college education is certainly tougher than what we did back in our school days,” he teased.
“Excuse me.” Maud pushed off the tree trunk and marched right up to him. “I think I could still study circles around you.”
Nate put his two hands up as if to surrender. “You definitely could.” The familiarity of their banter was like coming home to something she had forgotten she missed.
“How long do you expect to be in Cavendish?” she asked.
“A few weeks.”
“It will be nice to have you here to talk over old times. You, me, Mollie, and Jack.”
“Yes, it will be nice.” His smile hid his crooked teeth. “This is nice, now.”
He was right. It was. She would never admit it to him, but there was, and always would be, something between them.
Nate was the first boy who had told her he loved her. He would always hold a place in her heart.
They stood there, under the arc of trees on Lover’s Lane, in that in-between place where they had first kissed…and she wanted to kiss him now. It would be so simple to go back. But it wouldn’t be fair to him, or to the boy she still loved in Prince Albert—or to her.
“Come,” she said, extending her hand. “Walk me home.”
CHAPTER TWELVE
As Maud returned to the homestead, she briefly stopped at the turn that led up to the path past the schoolhouse. She admired the evening sun hovering over the Gulf and the small cemetery central to the whole village, watching over the people who still lived on this side of the veil. She whispered “good night” to her mother and turned toward home. Her grandparents were sitting outside, cool in the shade of Grandfather’s nearby apple trees, which had started to sprout white flowers. The trees were calm tonight; there were only a few bugs and a little wind, and from a distance she could hear the Gulf murmuring. It was a truly perfect Island summer evening.
“How was Uncle John Franklin?” Maud asked, sitting down in an empty chair.
“He is well,” Grandfather said.
“Lu was asking after you,” Grandma said. “Perhaps you can go see her after supper. There are some raspberries over the hill and we can make a nice pie.”
“A splendid idea, Grandma,” Maud said and stood up. “Should I get supper on?”
“Just wait a moment, Maud.” Grandfather said. “Please sit down.”
That familiar creepy-crawly feeling tickled Maud’s neck. Were they sending her away again? Had they discovered her journal? And if they had, would she burn it? It was one thing to condemn it to the flames when it had only been full of the trivialities of a girl who mostly described the weather, but it was entirely another to burn away the hard work of the last three years.
“Don’t be so concerned, Maud,” Grandma said, but she didn’t say it unkindly. “One can always see what you’re thinking.” Grandma paused. “Like your mother.”
Maud sat down, staring at her index finger where her ring had been.
“She does have that way about her,” Grandfather said.
Grandma turned to Grandfather. “Much like you.”
Maud stared, amazed. Had Grandma just teased Grandfather?
“Maud, your Grandma and I have been talking,” Grandfather said. “We have been watching you these past few weeks, and we think you’re wasting your talents.”
“My talents?” Maud rubbed the back of her neck. “I-I didn’t think you noticed.”
Grandfather harrumphed.
“Just because we’re old doesn’t mean we don’t see,” Grandma said. “You’ve been working hard at the post office, but if we paid you a compliment it would give you airs, and people talk enough. But, we aren’t getting any younger.”
Maud’s heart thrummed. What were they saying? Were they forcing her to move again?
And then Grandma said it: “Your grandfather and I have decided you can go back to school this year to prepare for the college entrance exam.”
The Island grew quiet.
“While I still don’t think it’s appropriate for girls to teach,” Grandfather said, “it’s true we aren’t getting any younger.”
Maud was speechless.