Maud

by Melanie Fishbane

  Mamie cleared her throat. “Clemmie said, ‘Isn’t it absurd, the way Maud and Nate go on?’ ”

  Maud reread the sentence. There it was. The truth as people saw it. Saw her. Maud remembered how she couldn’t even look Miss Gordon in the eye, but she wouldn’t tell Nate that! No, she had to divert his attention onto Clemmie, show how this was all her fault!

  The sheer nerve of it. But after Miss Gordon told Mamie to sit down, she told Clemmie to stand.

  Clemmie stood, her hands behind her back, breathing heavily through her mouth so she sounded like a fish caught in one of my grandfather’s nets.

  “How exactly do Maud and Nate ‘go on’?” Miss Gordon asked.

  Clemmie gulped. “Well…”

  “Yes?”

  “They are always passing notes to each other and talking together. And he’s always walking her home. It isn’t civilized.”

  The way she was behaving wasn’t civilized!

  I finally looked Miss Gordon in the eye and prayed I didn’t show any indication that anything Clemmie had said was true—which as you know it isn’t. It is clear to anyone that Clemmie is jealous of our friendship.

  When Miss Gordon finally spoke, she appeared to be choosing her words very carefully. “I have never believed Maud or Nate required much direction.” She paused. “Nor do I think so now.”

  Clemmie flashed me such a poisonous look, and Miss Gordon told her to sit down. Her ruling: both girls got a few slaps on their hands with her ruler, warning that if they continued this behavior they would be expelled.

  So now you know everything and I want you to promise me that as punishment you will follow my example and never speak to Clemmie Macneill again!

  Sincerely,

  Pollie

  When Maud gave Nate the letter the next day, he was so furious that he vowed he would never speak to Clemmie Macneill again. Victory was indeed sweet.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  After the trial, Clemmie kept her distance from Maud and Mollie. Even Annie had taken Miss Gordon’s warning seriously, focusing instead on trying to get Austin’s attention.

  Maud and Mollie were on their way to school one morning when Clemmie approached them. Clemmie’s curly hair was tucked under a grayish-blue wool hat and she had her hands in a warm muff.

  “What do you want, Clemmie?” Mollie said, when they got closer.

  Clemmie tucked her muff close to her chest. “I had hoped to speak with Maud in private.”

  “Did you?” Maud said.

  “Anything you can say to Maud, you can say in front of me,” Mollie said.

  Maud was grateful for Mollie’s devotion, but this was between her and Clemmie. “Mollie,” Maud said. “I’ll be fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Maud hugged her and, reluctantly, Mollie walked away. “I’ll be by the school woods if you need me.”

  When she had gone, Maud turned back to Clemmie. “What did you want to say to me?”

  Clemmie took her hands out of her muff, letting it fall to her side. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior.” She frowned. “And for what I said.”

  “That is nice of you to say,” Maud said, as politely as she could. But she couldn’t help noticing that Clemmie’s gaze lingered on the boys who were now coming down the path.

  “I never meant for it to go this far.”

  Maud suddenly felt tired. She really had had enough of Clemmie, and whatever it was that made her apologize, Maud suspected that it probably had to do with Nate ignoring her. But, perhaps by accepting it they could all move forward. “I accept your apology, Clemmie,” she said.

  “I am so relieved we can put this dreadful business behind us.” As she over-enthusiastically embraced her, Clemmie’s muff grazed Maud’s cheek.

  “Me too,” Maud said. And as Clemmie walked over to where Nellie had been dutifully waiting for her, and Maud returned to Mollie, she truly was relieved.

  —

  On November 30, Maud celebrated her fifteenth birthday with Pensie, Mollie, and Lu, who came over to celebrate with cake and to stay overnight.

  Maud hadn’t heard from Father in months and was beginning to get worried; he had never forgotten her birthday. As a forest ranger and homestead investigator, he was busy doing important work for the government. Perhaps that was why?

  Aunt Annie and Uncle John Campbell sent Maud some scraps for the crazy quilt, and the cousins gave Maud a scrapbook to put her special mementoes in.

  The Four Musketeers had also given her a bit of a party at school. Jack brought his mother’s shortbread, and Mollie gave her a beautiful piece of lace. Nate presented Maud with a book of verse by his uncle, Pastor Felix, and had signed the front:

  To Polly,

  Happy Birthday!

  Your pal,

  Snip

  Maud adored it and started reading the poetry right away.

  The day after her birthday, she received a genuine surprise when Grandpa Montgomery dropped by just when the tea was ready.

  “He has impeccable timing, that man,” Grandma said to Maud, placing a plate of cold meats on the table.

  Grandpa Montgomery was tall and broad with bushy whiskers, an intelligent smile, and Father’s eyes, and, even at eighty years old, he stood in sharp contrast to the quiet and demure Macneills. After her grandpa had given Maud his gift of store-bought candies and a wide-brimmed hat with a long blue ribbon, he showed her a letter. Maud immediately identified the crisp penmanship as her father’s. She could almost reach out and take it from him, but it wasn’t hers to read.

  Grandpa Montgomery cleared his throat. “Your father wrote that he is still trying to make arrangements to return to Prince Albert, and so this isn’t a good time for Maud to come.” He turned to her grandparents. “I know you had discussed the possibility of her joining me next year, but I don’t think it will be possible.” He lightly tapped her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Maudie.”

  Maud was surprised. Is that why she hadn’t heard from him? Is this what they had been planning after they had read her journal? She couldn’t believe it. Why was this the first she had heard of this? And why wouldn’t her father take her in?

  “Your son has never taken responsibility for Maud,” Grandfather said.

  “That is not true,” Grandpa Montgomery said, but there was no force behind his defense. Maud knew that Grandpa had arranged for Father’s current job and had disapproved of his son’s side ventures, which always seemed to lead to him losing money. When she was visiting her grandpa’s house in Park Corner last summer, she had overheard her uncles discussing how her father had asked for more money “for some scheme,” and hadn’t their father “done enough by securing him that post out West.”

  Maud had wished to leap to Father’s defense, but she knew better than to interfere when grown-ups were speaking. Father was just misunderstood. He had big dreams, like she did. He would come for her. It might not be right away, but one day she would live with him and his family. That’s why it was important to show her grandparents how much she had changed, that she could contain her emotions in front of company.

  Maud thanked her grandpa for his gifts and her father’s letter, and after he left, she took her things upstairs and wept.

  —

  Thankfully, Maud didn’t have much time to think about Father’s troubles—not when there were preparations for Christmas exams and, even more important, the Christmas concert, which included dialogues and singing. She and Mollie had a scene to perform, and Annie and Clemmie were to sing. The concert was very successful and Maud got a standing ovation. Her grandparents came again to see her, but just as before, they didn’t offer any praise.

  Maud also finished her essay on the wreck of the Marco Polo, which she gave to Miss Gordon right before the break. She loved writing it, because no matter what was going on in the rest of her life, when Maud wrote, all her troubles faded away; it was her and her story of the great wreck.

  Miss Gordon was very pleased with the essay
and submitted it to the Montreal Witness, along with essays from Nate and a few other students. Maud was confident Nate was going to win. While his essay was a bit too flowery for her liking, it was truly good, and he had written on the railroad, a very popular topic.

  Maud finally heard from Father at Christmas. He sent her a package that included a letter; a photo of him and his new wife, Mary Ann; and a picture of Katie, Maud’s baby half-sister. He also included a pile of magazines because he knew “she enjoyed reading about the fashions and stories.” But she couldn’t quite bring herself to read them—they reminded her too much of what she missed not being with him—so the magazines were left unread on her bureau.

  Still, Christmas was full of fun, with the evening church service and her grandmother’s famous turkey and Christmas cake. Even her Uncle John Franklin was in a good humor when they opened presents on Christmas Day. It was difficult to arrange to see Nate outside of school, so they exchanged letters over the holidays, but Mollie and Pensie came by often to work on their sewing projects.

  School started up again the first week of January, and they all settled into the new term while winter bore down on them. Maud loved the way the ice carved its way around the bare apple trees, and how the red roads crept up through the white snow, giving the land a pinkish hue. The evenings were warm and cozy in her grandparents’ house, and Maud found herself enjoying the quiet. Maud worked on her crazy quilt or read, while her grandfather smoked his pipe and read the newspaper, and her grandmother sewed or knitted.

  Often, Maud slept over at Mollie’s or Pensie’s house, staying up quite late, the girls huddled together to keep warm. Sometimes, Mollie “helped” Maud write by holding her inkbottle when she wrote in her journal. There were even times when Maud would read parts of it aloud. It was weird and wonderful to relive things that had only just happened, as though her journal had a story and life of its own. She remembered experiencing the events, but reading about them—even a few weeks later—made it feel as though they had happened so long ago, as though she were talking about a different person.

  The first week of January also brought a series of prayer meetings that took over Cavendish. Bundled up in their scarves, wraps, and capes, Maud, Mollie, and Pensie marched their way through the crunchy snow to either the Presbyterian or Baptist church. All of the villagers (except Maud’s grandparents, who claimed that it was much too cold and difficult to go) went to these prayer meetings, no matter what church they regularly attended.

  Mostly, Pensie sat with Mary or Quill, leaving the Four Musketeers to band together. Maud wished that Pensie would sit with them, but she told them—very loudly—that that she was “too old to sit with children.” The boys laughed her off, but Mollie glowered. Maud swallowed her tears. How was it that Maud was good enough to sleep over at Pensie’s house, but not good enough when she had her school friends with her?

  Being in the back pew was fun, and watching Nate and Jack joke together helped distract Maud from whatever Pensie was doing with Mary and Quill. During one of Reverend Archibald’s speeches, Nate and Jack passed the girls notes, writing silly rhymes about those in attendance, which Mollie and Maud read with their heads together, desperately trying to contain their giggles, and ignoring poor George, who sat near them to get Mollie’s attention. It was nearly impossible for Maud to be the proper girl Grandma expected her to be.

  The more time Maud spent with Nate, the more she enjoyed it, and she forgot about the issue of their different religious backgrounds. She no longer felt nervous walking home with him, and they always found things to talk about. She didn’t want to think about him going away next year, but there was time enough to worry about that.

  But it all changed one night at Maud’s Presbyterian church. Nate and Jack sat behind Mollie and Maud and, as always, tried to distract them by whispering in their ears, making jokes, and pulling on Maud’s shawl, the same one she wore when Nate walked her home. When Maud spun around and told him to stop, Mrs. Simpson turned in her seat in front of Maud and said, “You are carrying on like little devils.”

  Maud tried to look apologetic while fighting to hold in laughter.

  “Wait until your grandmother hears about this,” Mrs. Simpson said. Maud’s laugh caught in her throat. This was no idle threat. While they certainly weren’t friends, Mrs. Simpson was Grandma’s contemporary, and Maud knew she would definitely make a call—it was her duty, after all—and just in time for tea.

  After the prayer meeting, Mrs. Simpson and Mrs. Clark were in line for some hot cider near where Maud and Mollie were helping Miss Gordon.

  “It is no wonder that girl behaves the way she does,” Mrs. Simpson said. “Her Grandma worries so.”

  “I want to pour cider on her head,” Mollie said in a low voice to Maud.

  “After all that trouble last year,” Mrs. Clark said, as they passed. “It’s no wonder.”

  “I heard the old teacher was kicked out of the house because of Mr. Macneill’s temper. He’s definitely what drove Clara into the arms of a man who was beneath her, perhaps not in station, but in temperament.”

  Maud gasped, and the ladle she was holding slipped back into the glass bowl, sending drops of cider spattering across the table. She couldn’t move. The first part of Mrs. Simpson’s gossip was true. Miss Robinson had left when she’d had enough of Grandfather, but the second…

  Is that why no one ever talked about her parents?

  The women continued as if they didn’t notice Maud standing there.

  “Well, he was much older than her. Imagine eloping in the middle of the night,” Mrs. Simpson said. “And we all know why.”

  “He certainly pulled the wool over Clara’s eyes,” Mrs. Clark said. “Poor lamb.” She gave Mrs. Simpson a knowing look. “That man sailed in and sailed out as quickly as he came. If his father were not a senator, there would be no value in him at all.”

  Beside her, Mollie picked up the ladle and continued with their duties, making a show of not listening to what was being said. Maud was aware of other people milling around—could they all hear them?

  She swallowed hard. They were telling stories about her family, about people who weren’t here to contradict them. Eloped! Grandma had never indicated anything of the kind. And no one had ever hinted at that, not even Aunt Annie or Pensie’s mother. No wonder people thought so little of her. Tears betrayed her and she turned to the wall so no one would see.

  Mollie put her hand on her friend’s arm. “Come, let them get their own cider.” Maud sniffed and, grabbing their capes and scarves, the girls abandoned their post and went outside. It had started to snow, covering the old dirty snow with a fresh, light coat.

  “It is so frustrating.” Maud dabbed her teary cheeks and shivered. “No one ever talks about Mother. Whenever I asked Father, he smiled and became sad and talked about what a wonderful woman she was.” She stopped herself from saying anything else. Mollie was a dear friend, but would she be able to keep this a secret? “Swear,” Maud said. “Please swear that you’ll not tell a soul.”

  “Of course, I will. It isn’t right,” Mollie declared, wrapping her scarf around her neck. “People should mind their own business.”

  “Who should mind their own business?”

  The girls looked up to see Nate with his coat on, looking concerned. But the last thing Maud needed was for more people to hear about what her parents might have done—especially Nate. Besides, this was a private family matter and not for the ears of the Baptist minister’s stepson.

  “Nothing,” Maud said, drying her eyes. “Just the cold.”

  “Really,” he said, and his concerned look turned a little chillier. “I thought we were beyond secrets, Miss Montgomery.”

  Maud sighed. She knew he could never stand being left out of things.

  “You know us girls are allowed to have our secrets,” Maud said, trying to lighten the mood. “You don’t need to know all of our business.”

  Nate scowled. “While that’s true, ther
e are things that a fellow can help with if he’s given the chance.”

  Maud wished she could say something, but this was too personal, and a family matter. “Nate, this is really between Mollie and me.”

  He frowned. “I guess I thought we had gotten past this—”

  “It’s not—”

  “No, Maud. I know when I’m not wanted.” And he sulked off into the snow.

  Mollie put her arm around Maud. “He’ll come around. You know he can’t be angry at you for long.” Maud hoped Mollie was right.

  Pensie came out of the hall dressed in her navy blue wool cape. “Maud, I saw you leave,” she said. “Is everything all right?”

  She’d already embarrassed them tonight by not sitting with them, and now there was the matter of her lie! “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Pensie put her hand on Maud’s arm, but Maud shook it off. “Tell you what?”

  “Didn’t you know?…About my parents?” Maud couldn’t look at her.

  “What about your parents?”

  Maud put her head on Mollie’s shoulder. Pensie glared at Mollie. “You finally did it, didn’t you? Spread lies about me.”

  “I did no such thing,” Mollie said, rubbing Maud’s shoulders. “This has something to do with—” She stopped and shook her other hand as if to think.

  Maud lifted her head. “This has nothing to do with Mollie,” she said. “It has to do with you keeping something from me.”

  “I haven’t kept anything from you,” Pensie said, her eyes watering. “Maudie, I promise.”

  At the sight of Pensie’s tears, Maud felt her chin tremble. What was she doing? Pensie wouldn’t lie to her, keep things from her. “I’m sorry,” Maud said, hugging her friends close.

  “She has had a shock,” Mollie said.

  “My poor Maudie,” Pensie said, as Maud pulled away. “Tell me. What happened?”

  But just as Maud got up the courage, Quill emerged. “Are you ready to go, Pensie?”

  Pensie took a long look at Maud. “I might have to stay for a little while longer.”