Down Jasper Lane (Amherst Island Trilogy Book 1)

by Kate Hewitt

  People nodded or murmured their helloes to Ellen as she walked to Water Street. Even though she still felt apart, most of Seaton seemed to have accepted her somewhat, at least enough to bid her good day when they passed her in the street. After nearly two years it wasn’t much, yet Ellen knew it was all she was likely to get.

  And, she acknowledged, needing to be fair even in her own mind, it was partly her fault, the same as with her school friends. Ever since she’d learned she’d be returning to Amherst Island she’d only been in Seaton in body rather than spirit. She was polite without being truly friendly.

  And now, in just two months she would be taking the train and then Captain Jonah’s ferry to Amherst Island. A little shiver of anticipation ran up and down Ellen’s spine as she contemplated that journey.

  It was a thought that had sustained her through many cold, lonely months, a thought that held a pleasing if confusing tangle of questions and ideas. No discussion had yet been held about what Ellen would do after the summer away.

  Would she return to Seaton? Go to high school in Rutland? Or do something else entirely? Ellen didn’t know. She hadn’t spoken of high school to Aunt Ruth again, or anyone else for that matter. She was conscious of the expense, and the fact that she was only clothed and fed on her relatives’ sufferance.

  Yet if she didn’t go to high school, what could she do? Ellen had spent many long winter evenings pondering this question even as she shied away from settling on an answer. Most children who finished school at Year Eight left to work on farms or perhaps find a job in a factory or mill. Ellen supposed she could stay in Seaton and work in the store to earn her keep, but that was a most unpalatable thought. Yet what was the alternative? The McCaffertys would take her in, but she was reluctant to strain their limited resources. Neither Rose nor Dyle ever mentioned money, but Ellen was acutely conscious of it all the same. She remembered when Rose had had to fetch the doctor for Sarah when she’d had the influenza, and her expression had become strained and tense as she’d reached for the dented tin above the range. Ellen wanted as few pennies to come out of that precious tin on her account as possible.

  A vague contemplation of all of these possibilities occupied Ellen’s mind all the way to Water Street to visit Louisa, so that she skidded to a halt in front of the Hoppers’ impressive mahogany door with its bronze lion knocker and stained glass panes.

  “Hello, Ellen.” Mrs. Hopper herself answered Ellen’s knock, her mouth tightening and nostrils flaring as she looked at her. No doubt the lemon tart incident was still as fresh in Mrs. Hopper’s mind as it was in Ellen’s.

  Ellen smiled politely. “I’ve come to pay my respects to Louisa. I trust she’s better?”

  “Not completely,” Mrs. Hopper answered shortly. “It has been a very difficult time for poor Louisa. She is so sensitive, and she’s been greatly weakened by this trial.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that.” Ellen heard the implicit warning in Mrs. Hopper’s words and took it to heart. The last thing she wanted was to upset Louisa and bring Aunt Ruth’s wrath upon her once more.

  “Come in, then,” Mrs. Hopper said, sounding reluctant, and Ellen followed her up the thickly carpeted stairs to Louisa’s room.

  Louisa lay in a frilly, canopied bed, a pretty picture of an invalid. She wore a white nightgown with heavy lace on the cuffs and a pink satin ribbon threaded through the neckline. Her hair, although a bit lank and dull, lay brushed over her shoulders, and her hands were folded docilely over the coverlet.

  “Ellen,” she said in a whispery voice. “I’m so glad you came.”

  “It’s good to see you, Louisa.” Awkwardly Ellen handed over her gifts. “Some little things from the store. I thought they might cheer you.”

  “How kind,” Louisa murmured, examining the ribbon and bag of sweets before slipping a lemon drop into her mouth. Ellen shifted uncomfortably, not sure what to make of this subdued, well-mannered Louisa. She suspected her erstwhile friend was merely playing a part, perhaps one that amused her, if only for a time. At some point the mask would slip and the spite would out. Wouldn’t it?

  “I’ll leave you two alone... for a moment,” Mrs. Hopper murmured, and went out, shutting the door.

  “How have you been?” Louisa asked after a minute’s uncomfortable silence. Her cheeks were puckered as she sucked the lemon drop. Outside a robin chirped indignantly, the sound loud in the hushed stillness of the room.

  “Well, I suppose. Busy with school and things.”

  “I shall have to repeat this year, you know,” Louisa said. The mask dropped for a second, but all Ellen saw was bleakness. “I shan’t go to high school with the others.”

  “Not everyone is going to high school,” Ellen said. “Artie Dole says he isn’t, and neither is Bert Duncan. And the entrance exam isn’t for a whole month.”

  “I’m hardly going to work on a farm,” Louisa said with some of her old scorn.

  “Hope Cardle isn’t, either. At least that’s what her mother says.” No one of their age would decide about high school until summer, in any case.

  “Hope Cardle,” Louisa dismissed. “She might as well have feathers in her head. Her mother dresses her in that awful pink muslin, and she looks like a boiled ham.”

  “Louisa, that’s unfair,” Ellen said quietly. “Hope has been your friend since you broke off with me. You chose her yourself. Besides, she’s grown taller over the winter, and she has some lovely new dresses, blue to match her eyes.”

  Louisa looked as if she wanted to say something spiteful, but she swallowed it down. “What is Hope going to do with herself, then?” she asked.

  “I’m not sure. Help with the younger ones, I suppose.” Hope had three younger brothers who traipsed around in spotless sailor suits and shiny black shoes, their hair brushed and gleaming. Privately Ellen thought they looked a bit ridiculous.

  Louisa sighed, the sound one of restlessness rather than acceptance. She glanced down at Ellen’s gifts lying on the coverlet and threaded the silk ribbon through her fingers. Her head still bowed, she said, “I know I was awful to you.”

  “Do you?”

  “Don’t sound so surprised,” Louisa said, smiling faintly, discomfiting Ellen even more. “I was so angry with you for speaking to me like you did, but I suppose I deserved it.”

  “Yes, you did.” Ellen knew she was treading on dangerous ground, and Louisa’s temper—or tears—could burst any moment, but somehow she doubted they would. She sat hesitantly on the edge of the bed. “Have you been very ill?”

  “I don’t know,” Louisa answered. “Mother was frightened for me, but then she always is.”

  “I’m sorry if you have. It’s not an easy thing, to be an invalid, even if it is just for a while.”

  Louisa glanced at her with bright, curious eyes. “Have you ever been so ill, Ellen?”

  “No, but my mother was.” Ellen paused, remembering Mam. She seemed so distant now, a shadowy picture from another life. Even Da, gone now nearly two years, seemed lost in faint memories. Perhaps she was an orphan after all.

  “Your mother?” Louisa repeated. “She... she died, didn’t she?”

  “Yes, she did.” In her mind’s eye Ellen saw the bed set up by the coal stove in the kitchen, her mother’s pale, tired face on the pillow, yet still with a smile gracing her worn features.

  He’s been good to me, Ellen. Don’t doubt it.

  How had her mother possessed such faith in such bleak times? Ellen thought of her uncertain prayers to God, cast up to heaven the way a balloon floated towards the sky. Who knew what their fate was? How could you ever be sure?

  “I’m not going to die,” Louisa said with the firmness of someone who had recently believed she might. “Not yet, anyway. I’m better every day. Father wants to send me somewhere warm for the summer, where I can rest and get stronger.”

  “That should be lovely,” Ellen murmured. Outside the window she saw the gray sky clearing to fragile blue, and she longed suddenly to leave
this stuffy sickroom for the freedom of the fresh air. Just two more months until she took the train to Rouse’s Point, and then on to the island...

  “I have just the place,” Louisa said into the silence, and Ellen saw a familiar expression of determination lighting her green eyes and setting her mouth in a stubborn line. Despite the maturity she’d just shown, Louisa was still at heart a spoiled child.

  Ellen shifted on the edge of the bed, trying to hide her restlessness. “Oh, you’ve decided on a place? Where would that be?”

  “Why, your island, of course.”

  There was nearly a full minute of stunned silence while Ellen scrambled for something to say.

  “You can’t!” she finally blurted, only to have Louisa’s expression darken dangerously.

  “You don’t want me to go?”

  Why would I, Ellen wanted to snap, considering how you’ve treated me? She took a deep breath, willing herself to stay calm. Louisa, she knew, was just the kind of person to insist on something simply because she knew no one, including herself, wanted it. She’d never imagined that Louisa would want to go to Amherst Island with her, not when she’d hated her for nearly a year. Yet perhaps she should have expected something like this, for Louisa could be so completely contrary.

  “Of course, it would be pleasant to have you there,” Ellen said carefully, “but I’m thinking of you, Louisa. It’s certainly not warm—it’s most likely cooler than here, and it’s a rough sort of place as well. As I told you before, there are few shops and fewer entertainments. It’s really just a bunch of farmers. You’d find them all terribly stuffy and dull.”

  Louisa’s lower lip jutted out, which Ellen took to be a bad sign. “How would you know what I find stuffy or dull?”

  “You’ve told me yourself!” Ellen heard the edge of desperation, the bite of impatience in her own voice, and wished she could take the words back or at least soften them. Her resistance would surely only make Louisa more stubborn and difficult. “You told me you found Seaton dull, and Seaton is a—a metropolis compared to Stella, I promise you! You’d get there and be bored and irritable, and have wasted your whole summer.”

  Louisa folded her arms. “You just don’t want me to go.”

  “No, I don’t,” Ellen replied, “and I told you why.”

  “It’s because you don’t like me,” Louisa answered, daring Ellen to deny it.

  Ellen took another deep breath. “I don’t like you,” she said. “I’m sorry you’re ill, but you’ve been selfish and stubborn and vain since the day I met you, and nothing you’ve done since then has convinced me otherwise. Don’t burst into tears now,” she warned. “I’ll just leave anyway and I don’t care what your mother thinks of me. I’m leaving for the island in another two months, and I won’t be coming back here at all.”

  Saying the words made it feel real, and even though Ellen was not sure if she spoke the truth or not, sincerity throbbed in her voice for she so wanted it to be true. She might feel a bit sad that things hadn’t worked out with her aunt and uncle, but she still didn't want to come back and work in their store for the rest of her life.

  Louisa’s eyes widened. “Not ever?”

  “I don’t know,” Ellen allowed. “But not for a while, at least.”

  “What about high school?” Louisa asked, her eyes wide.

  “I don’t know,” Ellen admitted. “I suppose I’ll take the entrance exam just in case, but... well, it’s not simple.” She didn’t want to talk to Louisa about money, and her lack of it. “Anyway, I’d rather be on the island.”

  “Don’t you see, Ellen?” Louisa said, picking at a loose thread on her coverlet, her voice quiet and her expression almost sorrowful. “When you talk about that island, your eyes light up like you have the most wonderful secret. That’s why I want to go. I want that secret too.”

  Ellen leaned back against the bedpost, at a loss for words. But it’s mine, she wanted to say. I don’t want to share it, and especially not with you. Yet then wasn’t she as selfish as she’d accused Louisa of being? Unhappy confusion churned within her, and all she managed was a weak and rather resigned smile. She was afraid that Louisa was determined enough to make her wish come true.

  EIGHT

  The wheels of Louisa’s plan were set in motion before the week was out. Mrs. Hopper called on Aunt Ruth, and Ellen didn’t need to eavesdrop on their hushed conversation in the front parlor to know what they were talking about.

  The blow fell at suppertime, when Aunt Ruth announced, “Louisa Hopper has taken it into her contrary head to come with you this summer to visit your cousins. Her mother was quite against it, naturally, but her father can’t deny her any foolish notion and so it’s agreed.”

  Ellen stared at the mound of mashed potato Ruth had dolloped onto her plate. “Doesn’t Aunt Rose have any say in it?” she asked, although what she really wanted to ask was, Don’t I?

  “I’ll send her a telegram, of course,” Ruth allowed. “But I can’t see as she’ll mind. They’ve a houseful already, and the Hoppers will pay generously for Louisa’s bed and board. I dare say those McCaffertys could use the extra money.”

  Ellen stiffened at the implied slight. “Don’t I have any say in the matter?” she blurted, and Ruth’s lips thinned.

  “No,” she replied bluntly, and sat down to eat.

  The next two months passed by far too quickly, for although Ellen was looking forward to her return to Amherst Island, the addition of Louisa to her summer plans left her feeling quite sick with dread. She could not imagine Louisa on the island, did not want to imagine it. Would she turn her nose up at the McCaffertys’ ramshackle home? Say some snide remark to Peter or Caro, or dear little Ruthie? And what would she make of Lucas, Jed, or even Captain Jonah? The island was hers, and even though Ellen knew it was unreasonable to feel this way she could not keep herself from doing so. From not wanting to share a bit of it, and definitely not with Louisa Hopper.

  Her excitement and dread at leaving for the island was mixed also with a guilty ambivalence about saying goodbye to Uncle Hamish and Aunt Ruth. Nothing had precisely changed in their household; Ruth was as stern as ever, and Hamish just as uneasily jocular. Maybe she was the one who had changed, for she realized she would be sad, if only a little bit, to say farewell. She did not know what the future held for any of them.

  She’d received her Year Eight certificate and taken the entrance exam for high school in Rutland, although she had not yet received her results.

  “You will have to decide what you want to do before the summer is out,” Ruth warned as Ellen packed her valise. “Once you receive your exam results.” Aunt Ruth paused, her lips pressed together. “I know you’ve taken this notion to go to high school, but it is expensive, and you’d have to find a place to board...”

  “I know that.” Ellen swallowed. “My da hasn’t sent any money, has he?” she asked after a moment, her throat so tight she could barely find the words. “Besides that silver dollar, I mean.”

  Ruth said nothing for a long, tense moment. “That doesn’t matter,” she finally said, and Ellen wished she could believe it.

  She stared down at the starched pinafores Aunt Ruth had ironed for her, now neatly folded in her valise. “I could go to high school in Kingston,” she said quietly. “I might have to wait a year, to take the exam, but...” Her voice trailed away, that momentary courage to suggest such a thing depleted.

  Ruth was silent for another long moment, her face turned away from Ellen so she could only see her aunt’s cheek, the sunlight touching the gray strands in Ruth’s hair, the deep crow’s feet by her eyes. “I suppose you’d rather go there,” she finally said. “With your friends.”

  “Jed Lyman is there,” Ellen said. “And his brother Lucas will be, come September. Their farm neighbors Uncle Dyle’s.” Lucas had written her in the autumn, letting her know that Jed had finally agreed to go to high school; he’d be finishing his first year now. If Ellen went, she would overlap with him for one year
, his last and her first.

  “Where would you board?” Ruth asked with a little shake of her head. “And the money, I’m sure, is the same. Where would that come from?”

  Ellen stared down at her neatly folded clothes. It was always about money. Why hadn't her father sent any home? She wondered just what he was doing with his wages... his life, even. The few letters he’d written gave little away.

  “I wish I had money of my own.” Ellen didn’t realize she’d said it out loud until she saw Ruth’s startled look.

  “That’s as it may be,” Ruth said, “but you don’t. We’re Christian people, we’ve a notion of charity.”

  But charity, it seemed, did not extend to high school. Ellen reached for her nightgown and folded it on top of the other clothes, knowing there was nothing to say. If Aunt Ruth didn’t want to pay for her high school, she didn’t have to. It was simple as that.

  “If you pass the examination,” Ruth said abruptly, “we will think about it.” And she turned away, bustling out of the room before Ellen could so much as stammer her thanks.

  In the middle of June, with a bright blue sky above, Ellen and Louisa boarded the train to Rouse’s Point, as Hamish waved cheerfully and Mrs. Hopper cried noisily into her handkerchief on the station platform. Aunt Ruth hadn’t come to the station, which didn’t really surprise Ellen but hurt her nonetheless. “Someone needs to mind the store,” Ruth had told her sharply.

  The train journey was uneventful, and after the first few hours Louisa’s excited chatter died away and she asked no more questions about the island. They were soon both lost in their thoughts, exhausted by the time they reached the boarding house, and then onto the train to Ogdensberg and on to Millhaven the next morning.

  “I heard another little lady was coming,” Captain Jonah greeted Ellen as she and Louisa stepped on board the rickety little boat to Amherst Island. The blue-green waves were frilled with white and the breeze was chilly even though the sun shone. “Rose said a friend of yours was going to summer here. What’s your name, missy?”