“We’ll put Margaret in your room, Helena,” Fanny said. “I know my room is small, but you can sleep there, and I’ll have the chesterfield.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Helena said. “For starters, that thing is older than all three of us combined, and it’s much too bright in the great room in the mornings to get anything like a decent sleep. You stay in your own room, Fanny, as long as Margaret doesn’t mind sharing with me? It’s a queen bed, and there’s plenty of room for your things.”
“Of course,” Margaret said. “I’ve never shared a room or a bed before, so I can only hope I don’t snore.”
“Helena hogs the covers,” Fanny said.
“I do not!” Helena protested, laughing.
“You do, and you know it,” Fanny said. “We’ll get you your own quilt, Margaret.”
“From what you’ve told me, I understand we are to spend as much time as possible out of doors,” Margaret said politely. “I imagine that between that exercise and whatever Mrs. Callaghan has planned for us, we’ll be far too tired in the evenings for me to care if you steal all the blankets.”
In the front seat, Fanny laughed. Helena was glad to see the older girl shed her Toronto formality.
The car turned off the main road onto the cottage driveway, a dirt-packed trail shared and maintained by the Callaghans and Helena’s family ever since the latter had begun to summer here. Once upon a time, the Callaghans had owned the entire peninsula, but they had since divided it up and built two cottages in addition to the main house. The larger cottage was where Evie lived, and would stay unless she married. The smaller one, tucked away on an odd-shaped lot on the other side of the dirt road for additional privacy and facing a different bay than the other two, was owned outright by Helena’s parents. There was a boathouse between Evie’s cottage and the main house, with the launch beside it. On the occasions when the entire Callaghan clan descended upon the property at the same time, it was the garret above the boathouse to which the children were all sent. There they slept in bunk beds stacked three high and played endless games of Sorry! on the wooden floor, beyond the hearing range of their parents when the arguments began.
At the very end of the drive was the Marcus cottage, and as soon as it came into view, all of Helena’s final misgivings were erased. She would rest and research, and she would come up with a plan.
“It’s wonderful!” said Margaret, looking truly delighted. She squeezed Helena’s hand in excitement.
Wonderful was a good place to begin, thought Helena, as she continued to hold Margaret’s hand. As she breathed in her first proper lungful of Muskoka air, for a moment she believed anything might be possible.
THE MARCUS cottage had been built in four stages, Margaret was informed: the main house—which was square, and two storeys tall—the kitchen that extended off the back of the house, and the master bedroom, which was so much the province of her parents, Helena rarely thought of so much as entering it. All of these had been constructed before Helena’s parents had bought the property. Their only addition was the shower room, off the hall that led to the kitchen, if “room” was not too strong a word; it had no roof. Margaret found the idea of showering under the open sky equal parts delightful and intimidating.
The main part of the floor comprised the great room, with its massive stone fireplace and chimney, the aforementioned chesterfield and matching chairs, a corner for reading, and a long table with benches for when company came to dinner. There was also a small storage room, full of firewood, life jackets, deflated inner tubes, and dubiously functional fishing tackle, and a very small bathroom wedged under the staircase.
Upstairs was the main bedroom, where Helena and Margaret would sleep. Fanny’s room was not actually all that small, but it was on the side of the house where the roof sloped down, so it was only possible to stand upright in certain parts of it. The back bedroom was tastefully appointed, though the gaping hole in the wall belied its elegance.
“Fanny will keep track of the groceries,” Helena said, once they were all back in the kitchen. She filled the kettle with water and plugged it into the wall. “But if you want anything, you can get it from here. I try to at least pull myself together to make dinner, but sometimes I get caught up in a book or something and forget about lunch.”
“It sounds perfect,” Margaret said. She meant it quite sincerely, as even her most relaxed family vacations still involved a substantial security detail and regular sessions with the press for her parents.
Helena got down a pair of cups, a little jug for the milk, and two plates, and filled the teapot with warm water, letting the tap run for a moment, even though she’d already run it to fill the kettle. Though they’d only been at the cottage a short time, Margaret was captivated by all the little rituals opening the house for the summer seemed to require—or maybe she was captivated by the ease and grace with which Helena did them.
“What are summers like in Cornwall?”
“Oh,” said Margaret, and then recovered herself. “We get fair weather, or at least enough of it that we can go down to the sea, but it’s not as warm as it gets here, I think.”
“The lake will be cold, no matter how much the air warms up,” Helena said. “But the swimming is wonderful.”
The kettle began to sing, and Helena dumped the teapot before filling it with the boiling water. She set in the tea bags with an apologetic smile, and got a package of cookies out of the basket Charlotte had left on the counter.
With its windows open to the wind off the lake stirring the trees, the cottage made a sound—a sort of audible stillness that Margaret couldn’t quite describe to herself. It was the feeling of being very small in a very large place, and at the same time being held tightly. It was not unpleasant.
“Where is Fanny?” Margaret asked.
“She’s gone over to say hello to her friends at the Callaghan house,” Helena said. “She hasn’t seen them, except for Sally, since last Thanksgiving. I don’t need that much help while I’m here, and it would be unkind to make her sit around and wait on me, so we’re largely independent. She could have gone back to New London, if she wanted, but she said she was looking forward to the vacation as much as I was.”
While she spoke, she assembled everything on the tray, and indicated that Margaret should precede her back to the great room. They settled in on the chesterfield with the tray on the ottoman in front of them, and Helena pulled her feet up under her.
“I hope you don’t think it’s too rustic,” she said. “I worry that I didn’t explain clearly enough what you were getting yourself into.”
Margaret smiled and took a cookie. “I think it’s wonderful,” she said. “Can we go look at the lake after we have our tea?”
“Of course!” Helena said. “Oh, and if you have a screen, it will connect here. We’re not that isolated, because the Callaghans made sure that there was a tower built close by for signals.”
“I should let my parents know I’ve arrived,” Margaret said, even though the Windsor Guard would have done so already. They were staying at a cottage across the bay. Still, she would like to tell Henry that she was safely arrived, and explain that due to a change of plans, they might have somewhat limited conversation opportunities for the remainder of the summer. She hadn’t started anything serious with him, of course, but there was no reason not to be polite.
“And then we can go down to the water. We can even go canoeing, if you like,” said Helena.
“I want to do everything,” Margaret said a little impulsively. “I may never come back to Canada again, and if I do, I may never come here again, and I want to do everything you love about this place, so that I can remember it, and you.”
Helena’s answering smile was so bright that Margaret’s heart skipped a beat.
— INTERNAL MEMO —
MINISTRY OF TRANSPORTATION OF ONTARIO
RE:
400 CONGESTION ISSUES
(NOT FOR CIRCULATION)
Greetings, all.
It’s that time of year again, when half of Toronto vacates the city every Friday and tries to drive North in the same three lanes of traffic, all at the same time. Due to our construction plans, we expect a larger-than-normal volume of complaints. Please refer anything troublesome to PR, and resume work as normal.
Updated construction schedules (including road closures) will be available online, as will live traffic updates. Please refer any callers there.
Enjoy the season, and may God have mercy on our souls.
Yours,
A. ELLIOT,
MINISTER OF TRANSPORTATION
CHAPTER
16
August did not manage to finish his business in Toronto until Friday morning, which was unsatisfactory for a number of reasons. His final meeting had been the most unofficial one, requiring a taxi paid in cash and a conversation with the sort of men that most people actively avoided. He was probably going to smell like fish, and worse, for days and ruin his mother’s party, but at least the ships carrying Callaghan lumber through the Saint Lawrence Seaway would be better secured for his efforts.
He had also not been able to get a seat on any of the trains leaving Toronto for the north, and had therefore accompanied Hiram in the car. The traffic was unbearable, since half of the city was involved in the Friday exodus and what should have been a three-hour drive had taken nearly five instead. August arrived just in time for his mother to tell him that he had missed tea, and would have to scavenge for himself in the kitchen because everyone was too busy getting ready for the evening’s entertainment. August and Hiram hadn’t even made it inside the kitchen door before the noise of a kitchen staff in full-preparation mode made August decide that they’d be better off if they threw themselves at Helena’s mercy.
“My sisters would feed us,” Hiram said. “But they’d expect us to work for it.”
“Exactly,” August said. “I don’t mind being helpful, but not today. Helena will have something.”
“After you, then, young master.” Hiram only said things like that when he was being deliberately trying, so August took the high road and ignored him.
It was a short walk to Helena’s from there, quicker if they took the paths, but it had rained recently, and the walkways were still slick with mud. August had a lifetime of practice using the low tree limbs for support while scrambling through the muck, but he knew Hiram would have trouble grabbing them if he was sliding, so they took the drive without discussion.
Fanny answered August’s knock on the kitchen door within seconds, and they were seated at the table with a plate of scones and stewed rhubarb almost before August finished explaining the situation.
“We expected you hours ago, of course,” Fanny said, as she put the big kettle on the stove. “And then Evie came over at lunch and told us you’d be driving, so the girls went swimming.”
“How warm is the water?” Hiram asked.
“Not very,” Fanny said. “Which is why I stayed in the kitchen like a sensible person. Helena talked Miss Margaret into sticking her toes in, but that’s about as far as she’d go. Helena jumped, of course.”
August was no stranger to jumping in the lake before it was seasonably advisable.
“At least the sun is out,” he said. “It must be nearly twenty-five degrees.”
“Fat lot of good that does you when the water is ten!” Hiram muttered. He tried scooping blueberries on top of his scone with his prosthetic to hold the spoon, and only spilled a few of them. He was supposed to practice this sort of thing regularly, but disliked doing it in front of his sisters. For some reason, he never seemed to care if Fanny saw.
Fanny came over with the dustpan and brush to sweep them up, but he waved her off.
“I’ll get them when we’re done,” he said.
“Thank you,” Fanny said, and left the brush leaning against his chair.
August made sure all of his crumbs were on his plate as Fanny brought over the teapot and a tray of cups. The kitchen table was just big enough for five, and it was August’s favourite place to eat at Helena’s cottage, because it had the best view of the lake.
“August!” said Helena, appearing in the kitchen door.
She was her happy self again, he thought. Dark hair wet, though no longer dripping, from the lake, and the beginnings of her summer colour on her nose and arms as her white skin tanned. There was, he noticed, still something unsettled about her when she looked at him, her eyes skating past his though her smile never wavered, but perhaps it was only that she was tired. Or that she didn’t know exactly when he planned to propose. Helena was not overfond of surprises.
“I’m so glad you’ve made it,” she said, sitting across from him. “Now the summer can truly begin.”
Margaret, who had come in behind Helena, and rather more quietly, took the last seat at the table, and smiled at him.
“Summer?” she said. “The water is freezing.”
“Refreshing,” said Helena and August at the same time, and everyone laughed.
“Here, then.” Fanny poured a cup of tea and passed it to Margaret. “That should help.”
“How was the drive?” Helena asked.
“Horrible,” August said. “I’m sorry I missed getting a booking on the train. And I’m also sorry that Hiram does the drive so regularly.”
“You do pay me union scale,” Hiram pointed out. “Which takes the sting off, a bit.”
He also got to visit his parents more often than his sisters did, for which he was quite grateful.
“I’m glad to hear it,” August said. He leaned back in his chair, unbothered by the loud creaking of the wood because he knew that the chair was sound. “But I’m more glad that we’re all home, such as it is, for the next while.”
“I agree,” said Margaret, lifting her teacup to make a toast of it. “I had no idea what to expect, even with Helena’s descriptions, but everything up here is lovely.”
“You say that now,” said Hiram. “But blackfly season hasn’t started yet.”
“You hold your tongue, Hiram McCallister,” Fanny said. She turned to Margaret. “Never believe a lumberman when he’s describing a fish he’s caught, a blackfly he’s swat, or a girl he’s—”
“Fanny!” Helena exclaimed, and then dissolved into giggles.
August couldn’t help laughing, too. He’d liked Margaret well enough when they met in Toronto, but he hadn’t been sure that the idea of inviting her for the entire summer had been a good one. It seemed, though, that Helena was an excellent judge of character, and August was glad that Margaret was the sort of company to restore Helena to her good, if reserved, spirits.
The hall clock chimed six, and Fanny stood up, pushing back her chair.
“You’d best get back to the main house and start getting yourself ready,” she said to August. “We have some work to do ourselves in that regard.”
“Of course,” August said. Even without the fish smell, he ought to shower after that many hours in the car. This party was very important to his mother.
Hiram took his leave, and Fanny and Margaret went upstairs to begin their preparations for the evening. But Helena and August didn’t rise from their seats. It was not the first time August noticed that people were exceptionally eager to give him and Helena their privacy.
Helena moved to the seat that Fanny had occupied, putting her much closer to where August sat. He took both her hands in his.
“You’re feeling better?” he asked. “Truly?”
His mother’s Victoria Day parties were always wonderful, but this year Helena would be feeling a bit more pressure about it, as he did himself. Coming off her season in Toronto, he was afraid she would still be exhausted.
“Yes.” Genuine as always, he knew she was telling the tru
th. Whatever it was that plagued her, she would tell him when he needed to know. “It’s been an excellent first week up here. Sunny and warm, and quiet. I feel like myself again.”
“I’m glad,” he said. “Margaret is settling in well?”
“She truly is,” Helena said. “You know how some people are just terrible guests, even if you like them? She’s not like that at all. She helps with everything, from the dishes to launching the canoe, and she’s not the sort who has to fill the evening hours with chatter. She might read her way through all of our books by mid-June.”
“I’ll be sure to tell her that she is welcome to our library, then,” August said. “As are you and Fanny, of course.”
“I didn’t expect that to have changed,” she said quietly, looking down at where their hands joined.
“I’m sorry so much has,” he said, his turn to be sincere.
The lake was losing its day-brightness, as the sun got lower to the trees.
“That’s what growing up means,” she said. “You make wonderful plans when you’re a child, and then you grow up, and you do the best you can with them.”
“I hope I’m still the best you can,” he said rather boldly.
The look she shot him was both direct and measuring.
“You’ll do for now,” she said. “Unless I get a better offer.”
It wasn’t said quite as lightheartedly as it might have been, he thought, but it was still pure Helena. He thought of six or eight clever retorts immediately, rejected them all, pulled her closer by the grip he still kept on her hands, and kissed her.
She stiffened for a moment in surprise, but didn’t pull away. He’d kissed her before, at the end of last summer and once, very chastely, after the debut ball in Toronto just weeks ago, but this one was different. This one spoke of his intentions in a way the others had not. He pulled back, and she looked right at him. He found it very difficult to breathe.
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