by Hewitt, Kate
Tears crowded Ellen’s eyes and when she blinked, a few trickled down her cheeks. “I do,” she whispered in a choked voice.
“But somehow I think you’d doubted it,” Rose answered shrewdly, even as she gave a tear-filled laugh. “Oh Ellen, how could you doubt even for a moment? I feel I’ve aged a decade in the last week, worrying over you. I’m so very glad you’re well, my darling. So very glad.”
By the time they arrived at Ogdensburg to catch the ferry to Amherst Island, Ellen was feeling completely wrung out, limp and exhausted. Simply sitting on a train, having it jostle and jolt beneath her, had exhausted her, and she leaned heavily on her aunt’s arm as they boarded the little tugboat to the island and took their seats.
It was late afternoon, with golden sunlight coating the lake like syrup, the sky a soft, hazy blue above them, the air fresh and clean, especially after the smog and choking traffic of Toronto’s city streets. Captain Jonah’s dire prediction that all of August would be wet and gray had, for once, not come true, although he refused to admit as much, predicting with relish that it would rain that day, just wait and see.
“Oh, I’ve missed being here,” Ellen exclaimed as she leaned against Rose’s shoulder and the little boat started across the lake. “I feel as if I’ve been away an age.”
A few other passengers had boarded the ferry, including several familiar faces who inquired after Ellen’s health and wished her well, pressing her hand and giving her glad smiles.
“Andrew will be waiting with the wagon,” Rose told her as the boat approached the landing at Stella. “And then as soon as we get back to Jasper Lane, it’s right into bed for you. You must be exhausted.”
“I won’t protest,” Ellen admitted with a wry smile. “I am well and truly worn out.”
They were just leaving the ferry when one of the passengers approached them, his hat crumpled in his hands, his head slightly bowed so they couldn’t see his face. He wore a well-worn suit whose fashion was from before the war, and although he looked tired and scarecrow-thin, when he spoke, Ellen felt there was something kind about him, in the timbre of his voice.
“Pardon me, ladies,” he said, “but do you know where the Wilson farm is?”
“Wilson…?” Ellen spoke so sharply that the man looked up, and she did her best not to recoil at the sight of his face; half of it was normal, with a straight nose and a kind eye of faded blue. The other half looked as if it had melted like wax, the flesh lumpen and reddened, his eyes swollen shut and his mouth pulled into an unpleasant rictus by scarring. He must have been burned by poison gas in the war, and while she’d seen the like before, both in Toronto and during her time at Royaumont, it still came as a shock. “Are you Iris Wilson’s brother-in-law?” she asked gently. “Jack Wilson?”
“Yes, that’s me.” He looked up, a light entering his good eye, brightening the blue. “I only received the telegram a few days ago. They had to track me down. I’d been out west looking for work. Is Iris…?”
“My dear boy,” Rose said quietly, laying one hand on his arm. “I’m so sorry, but your sister-in-law passed away a few weeks ago. My daughter Caroline sent the telegram before she’d passed, bidding you to come…”
John Wilson’s face contorted, the muscles drawn sharply across his good cheek, and pulling the other painfully before he gave one terse nod. “And the little ones?”
“They’re all well, and staying with us, at our farm on Jasper Lane,” Rose said. “If you want to accompany us in our wagon, you are more than welcome to do so, Mr. Wilson.”
“I thank you for that,” he said with another quick nod. “I will accept your offer.”
Chapter Twenty-One
The trip back to Jasper Lane through a gathering dusk was silent; Andrew had taken one surprised look at John Wilson’s face before shaking his hand and asking no questions. Rose had explained matters and Ellen had collapsed into the wagon seat with an audible sigh of relief. She felt as if she could fall asleep right then and there.
As Andrew drove up Jasper Lane, Caro came out onto the porch, followed by Gracie and Sarah, all of them looking anxious.
“Is Ellen all right?” Sarah called.
Rose called back gaily, “She’s as right as rain, or soon she will be! And, Caro, look who we found on the ferry.”
As Andrew pulled the wagon up to the front of the farmhouse, they all clambered out; when Ellen faltered, John Wilson took her arm with a small, sympathetic smile.
“It’s Iris Wilson’s brother-in-law,” Rose exclaimed. “He received the telegram and he came right away. Isn’t that good news?”
“Oh, yes—” Caro began, and then fell suddenly silent as John Wilson turned and she caught sight of his face.
For a few awful seconds, everyone was speechless and staring; with an attempt at a wry smile, John touched the misshapen side of his face with his fingers in acknowledgment.
Then, thankfully, Caro gathered her wits once more and came down the steps to greet him. “You’re very welcome here, Mr. Wilson, I’m sure.”
Ellen was too tired to stand around listening to their pleasantries, and with Rose’s help, she made it up to her bedroom, half-collapsing on her bed.
“Oh Ellen, I fear the journey has set you back terribly!” Rose exclaimed as she bustled about, helping Ellen to remove her shoes and then turning back the covers. “You must rest. If you get out of that bed even once before Sunday, I shall be having cross words with you!”
“I shall be having cross words with myself,” Ellen returned sleepily as her head hit the pillow. Her eyes fluttered close and she was asleep before Rose had even closed the door.
Several days later, Ellen was feeling stronger—she’d taken Rose at her word and had stayed in bed the whole time—when a soft knock sounded at her bedroom door.
“Come in,” she called, and then tried not to show her surprise when Caro peeked her head around the door. “Caro… is everything all right?”
“Yes and no,” Caro answered frankly as she perched on the end of the bed. She looked unhappy, and Ellen tensed, unsure if she had the strength to have another complicated conversation with her cousin.
“What is it?”
“I need to apologize, Ellen,” Caro said in her frank way. “I have a terrible feeling I’ve treated you horribly. In fact, I know I have.”
“You haven’t…” Ellen began, so unconvincingly that Caro laughed.
“I have and you know it! I shouldn’t have railed you about Peter, and I never should have acted as if you of all people were interfering.” Caro shook her head, her face full of regret. “I don’t know why I did. I suppose because I was scared.”
“That’s understandable…”
“And more than that,” Caro admitted in a rush. “I was… jealous of you.”
Ellen stared at her, shocked. “Jealous?”
“Mum looked to you to save Jasper Lane, and you did. You came back into our lives after seven years and it was wonderful—truly it was—and I was as grateful as Mum for all you did.” Caro sighed heavily. “But at some point I started to feel resentful, I suppose. Frustrated that I didn’t have all the answers, or even any of them. And whenever there was a problem Mum looked to you, not me. She valued your advice far more than mine.”
“Oh Caro, I don’t think that’s true—”
“That was in part why I spent so much time at the Wilsons’. The family needed my care, but I needed them. I needed to be needed.”
“Caro, you are needed,” Ellen said quietly. “I know you are. If you didn’t feel so, it’s because Aunt Rose simply depended on you without ever saying so. Took you for granted, perhaps. You’ve done so much for the family, the farm.”
“Perhaps,” Caro allowed, “but I know my mother has always valued your experience, especially as you’ve had so much more than I have, what with moving to Glasgow, and serving in the war. But the Wilsons need my experience,” Caro continued, her voice hardening with conviction. “My experience of the island, and
of farming, and even of raising little ones. I may not have had any of my own, but I helped with Sarah and Gracie and Andrew. I can help them.”
Ellen searched her face, noting the resolve she saw there. “You’ve been very good to them, Caro,” she said. “But what can you do now that Mr. Wilson has returned? He will take them on, won’t he?” Ellen hadn’t seen much of Jack Wilson since he’d come to the island with them. He was staying at the Wilson homestead, and trying to get the farm going, as well as visiting the children at Jasper Lane at least once a day.
“I hope he will,” Caro said slowly. “But there might be some trouble.”
“Trouble—”
“The Presbyterian Ladies’ Benevolent Society is taking an interest in the children,” Caro explained, an edge of anger to her voice. “They didn’t seem much interested when Iris was struggling and they were near to starving, but now that a good man has come to take care of them, they’ve decided to show some neighborly concern.”
“Concern? Why?” Ellen asked, even as she silently registered Caro’s opinion of Jack Wilson. Did she really know the man that well? He’d seemed nice enough, but Ellen had no idea whether he was suitably placed to take care of three motherless children.
“Because he’s a stranger, and because of—because his face.” Caro shook her head. “It’s cruel of them.”
“That does seem rather narrow-minded,” Ellen answered after a moment. “There are many men who have scars like Mr. Wilson’s from the war.”
“It’s just because they don’t know him,” Caro exclaimed in frustration. “And because he’s not from the island. Sometimes this place feels so ridiculously small.”
“I’m sorry, Caro,” Ellen said quietly. “I can see you’ve come to care for the Wilson children. But surely the Ladies’ Society is concerned for their wellbeing, too? You don’t actually know Mr. Wilson, do you, or whether he’d be a suitable father for those children?”
“He’d be better than an asylum, surely,” Carol fired back.
Ellen stayed silent. It was a conundrum, to be sure, but not one she thought either she or Caro would be able to solve.
“In any case, you should rest,” Caro said as she rose from the bed. “I’m sure something will sort itself out.” She did not sound convinced. “You do look worn out, Ellen.” She patted her shoulder before leaving the room, and Ellen leaned back against the pillows as her eyes fluttered closed and she abandoned herself to the comforts of sleep once more.
A week passed in a similar fashion before Ellen felt strong enough to venture out of bed. Rose insisted she not lift a finger in the house, which Ellen both appreciated and resented. She felt useless, and yet exerting herself more than a little still exhausted her.
There had been no more holiday bookings made for the rest of August, and Rose had already cancelled several due to Ellen’s illness. Although Ellen had insisted she would be well enough when they came, Rose refused.
“We’ve made enough money off the bookings we had to see us through the winter,” she declared. “And that’s enough for now.”
Still Ellen worried. Unless they had a full summer of bookings every year, the McCaffertys would be as good as living hand to mouth.
“Hey, Ellen, are you feeling well enough to join us?” Caro called as she came onto the front porch, where Ellen was sitting in a rocking chair, enjoying the afternoon sunshine.
“Join you…?”
“Mr. Wilson and I are taking the children for a walk.” A familiar, steely note of determination had entered Caro’s voice even though she was still smiling. “I thought it would be nice for us all to spend time together, get the little ones to know their uncle better. He’s been visiting them nearly every day, you know.”
“Yes, I remember.” Ellen smiled as Jack Wilson appeared at the porch steps, his hat in his hands, his face slightly averted so she couldn’t see the worst of his injury. “How nice to see you, Mr. Wilson. I don’t know how far I’ll get on a walk, but it would be lovely to have a bit of a stroll.”
“I’ll get you a hat,” Caro said, and went inside with a flounce of her skirts.
A few minutes later, the six of them were walking down Jasper Lane, the sunlight dappled by the oak and maple trees that lined either side of the familiar dirt road. Ellen walked slowly, taking care with her steps; it was the most exercise she’d had in weeks, and it was tiring her out more than she wished or expected, weeks after her illness.
The children scampered ahead, grateful for an afternoon’s adventure, and Caro had dropped behind with Mr. Wilson. She appeared to be talking to him quite insistently, making Ellen wonder what her intentions were. Did Caro want Mr. Wilson to fight the Ladies’ Society and their belief that the children should go to an asylum? How could he? A bachelor with no fixed income or abode who was a stranger to three young children was hardly the likeliest candidate for their guardianship, and yet Ellen could not wish them into the asylum.
She found out a short while later, while Mr. Wilson went ahead to walk with the children, stooping slightly so he could hear them better.
“Nothing is as easy as it should be,” Caro said with a frown as she folded her arms, her stroll practically turning into a march. Ellen struggled to keep up with her.
“Does this have to do with what you told me about the Ladies’ Benevolent Society? Was that what you were talking to Mr. Wilson about?”
Caro threw her a fulminating look. “You can call him Jack, you know.”
“I don’t know, actually. He hasn’t invited me to do so.” Ellen was a bit surprised by Caro’s familiarity. It had been a little over a week since Jack Wilson had arrived on the island, and he’d spent most of the time at the Wilson homestead.
“He’s very kind,” Caro said in a low voice. “He’s just quiet because of his face.”
“That’s understandable. I saw many men like him during the war. It’s a terrible burden for them to bear.”
“Yes, and it’s so unfair,” Caro burst out. “Everyone judges him for something on the outside that wasn’t his fault. It doesn’t change who he is.”
“No, of course it doesn’t.” Ellen eyed her cousin uncertainly. Caro spoke with so much passion, but what was its source? “What’s really going on, Caro?”
Caro let out a frustrated sigh, pursing her mouth tight. “The Presbyterian Ladies’ Benevolent Society have decided the children should go to the asylum in Kingston, and they won’t be moved on the point. They made their decision yesterday.” She’d lowered her voice so the children scampering ahead couldn’t hear. “They don’t think it’s appropriate for them to be placed with their uncle as long as he’s a bachelor. They say it’s not because of his face,” she continued in an angry rush, “but I know that’s part of it. One of them—Mrs. Lewis—said he’d scare the children.” She nodded towards the happy group ahead of them; the littlest girl had slipped her hand in her uncle’s. “Do they look scared now?”
“That’s unkind of the Ladies’ Society,” Ellen said quietly, and Caro glared at her, clearly needing to take her anger out on someone.
“It’s more than unkind, it’s positively cruel. Condemning those children to the orphan asylum instead of a loving home? Jack could take care of them, I know he could, with a little help.”
“I didn’t think you knew him that well,” Ellen pointed out as gently as she could. “You only met him last week, Caro, and he’s only been to Jasper Lane a few times since he arrived. A bachelor taking care of three young children as well as a farm—it’s a big responsibility.”
“Still, I know,” Caro insisted stubbornly. “And, more importantly, he wants them with him. He and his brother grew up as orphans themselves. They spent their childhood in an asylum and then, as soon as he was old enough, Jack took a job and did his best to make his own way. His brother married Iris and came here, and then they lost touch during the war. It wasn’t his fault.”
“You seem to know a great deal,” Ellen remarked, slightly stunned by the depth of C
aro’s knowledge—and her feeling. She hadn’t realized Caro had spent so much time with Mr. Wilson over the last week, but it was clear that she had.
“Jack told me the whole story a few days ago. If only there was something I could do…”
“Could you speak to the Benevolent Society?”
Caro shook her head. “They won’t listen.”
“Do they have that much control?” Ellen asked hesitantly. She didn’t know about such matters, despite being as good as an orphan herself, growing up. At least she’d had the McCaffertys to take her in, along with her Uncle Hamish and Aunt Rose.
“Yes, the children are still in the society’s care even though they’re staying with us.” Caro sighed and shook her head. “It’s just so unfair. I really wish there was something I could do.”
Ellen laid a hand on her arm. “It sounds as if there isn’t, Caro, and you’ve done so much already. Sometimes you simply have to let Providence have its way.”
“Sometimes Providence needs a little help,” Caro answered, and shaking off Ellen’s arm, she hurried ahead to join the Wilson children—and Jack.
By the time Ellen returned to the farmhouse, Caro and the others having gone ahead, she was feeling entirely worn out. The walk had done her good, but it had also exhausted her. Her legs trembled and her breathing came in labored gasps.
“You shouldn’t have gone so far,” Rose scolded as she helped Ellen up the steps. “It’s straight to bed with you, but first I have some news.”
“News?” Ellen eased herself into the rocking chair with a sigh of relief. Her whole body ached. “What news?”
“I’ve just heard from Elvira Frampton, and she is ready to receive you in New York next week!” Rose’s hands were clasped together as she beamed at Ellen in excited delight.