by Kate Hewitt
She nodded sadly. “Yes.”
“Well, then. I suppose I’m sorry I asked.” His voice was gentle and resigned, but Ellen’s heart still ached.
“How long are you on the island for?” Lucas asked after an awkward pause.
“Only another few days. I’m going to New Mexico, to visit my father.”
He nodded slowly. “Then I suppose I won’t see you much until the autumn, when we’re both back in Kingston.” He shook his head, conscious of his slip. “Except you’re not coming back—what are you going to do, Ellen?”
“I really don’t know,” Ellen admitted, trying to smile.
Lucas raised his eyebrows in tender mockery. “Well, you know what I’ve always told you to do.”
Ellen gave a little laugh. “Who knows? Perhaps I will go to art school, one day.”
“You should. Don’t sell yourself short, Ellen, or what you’re capable of.”
Ellen smiled, her heart aching—breaking—with wanting to love Lucas. Wishing they could return to the farmhouse with happy news, with excitement and joy instead of this endless, aching sadness.
“I’ll walk you back to the house,” Lucas said.
He offered her his arm, and as Ellen slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, she wondered if she should have accepted Lucas’ proposal. There wasn’t anything really wrong with safe, was there? Safety could surely be happiness.
Three days later Ellen started to pack for her trip to New Mexico. She folded her few dresses carefully in her valise, smoothing the fabric. Most of them were cut down from Rose’s, although she still had the rose wool that had been a Christmas present from Ruth, and the fancy new dress from Hamish, straight from the store.
The memory of Ruth’s quiet kindnesses brought a sting of tears to Ellen’s eyes. She hadn’t truly appreciated her aunt’s affection towards her, she saw now. She’d only seen the stern look, the harsh word, without pausing to consider what these might have hidden... or protected.
Ellen sighed. She wanted to put the past behind her, as much as she could without forgetting those who loved her. This was a new start, even if she wasn’t certain where precisely she was going.
“Hello, Ellen.”
Ellen turned in surprise. Jed stood in the doorway, his face scrubbed of the day’s dirt, his hair rumpled, his expression both anxious and uncertain.
“Jed!” His name came out as a little yelp of surprise, so astonished was she to see him in her little bedroom, filling up the small space with his presence and energy. He looked the same, she saw, wonderfully the same. His eyes glinted gray and his hair was as scruffy as always, as scruffy as it had been that day he’d come for her in the wagon, and her whole life had changed—had begun—
“I didn’t mean to startle you. Rose said to come on up, as you’re leaving on the morrow. I haven’t seen you all summer.”
“No, you haven’t,” Ellen agreed. She had not seen him all the two weeks she’d been back, and part of her had been relieved. Another part had been disappointed. She straightened a dress in her valise that had already been perfectly folded. Her cheeks were warm and she didn’t look at Jed.
“I was sorry to hear about your Aunt Ruth.”
Ellen nodded, still not looking at him. “Thank you.”
There was an awkward pause. Ellen risked looking up and saw Jed was staring at the floor as he twisted his cap between work-roughened fingers.
“Lucas told me you’re not going back to Kingston,” he finally said. “Will you stay here?”
“I shouldn’t think so.” Ellen finally felt able to meet his gaze directly. “I’m not sure what I’ll do, but I want to go somewhere. Be something. After all, there’s nothing for me here... is there?”
The silence, the heavy meaning, was palpable between them. Ellen hadn’t meant to issue such a direct challenge; it had come without warning. She gazed down at her valise, her words spilling out in a rush.
“Besides the McCaffertys, of course, and Jasper Lane... this will always be home to me.”
“Yes.” Jed was silent, gnawing his lip. He looked up. “Yes.” Another pause as he took a step forward. “Ellen, I never meant...”
“I’m leaving for New Mexico tomorrow,” Ellen cut across him. She could not bear to hear him explain how he’d never intended for her to have feelings for him. How wrong and silly she had been.
Jed stepped back. “New Mexico?”
“To visit my father. I haven’t seen him in six years. I suppose it’s time I did.”
“I reckon so.”
She stared down at her valise, willing the tears that were now stinging her eyes to recede. She was done with tears, or at least she wanted to be. Yet standing here with Jed so close made her ache all over again with what she wanted and could never have.
Suddenly she felt Jed’s hand on her shoulder, the weight of it heavy and warm. She stiffened under that touch, her whole body flooding with a sudden, dizzying awareness of how close he was and how much she wanted him to touch her.
“Ah, Ellen.” Jed pulled her into a hug, the kind of embrace he’d never given her before. Ellen instinctively put her arms around the solid strength of his shoulders, her cheek pressed against his chest. He smelled of hay and leather, of sunshine and soil. He smelled of Jed, and also of the island. She didn’t know why he was hugging her, whether it was comfort or farewell or something else. She knew it was most likely the only time he would ever hug her; she felt that in herself as well as in him, and so she pressed closer.
Then, his arms still around her, he pulled back just a little and touched her chin with his finger, his gray eyes seeming to bore straight into her soul. She realized her cheeks were wet with tears, and she didn’t care. Was he going to kiss her? He was close enough that he could. She wanted him to, even though she knew it would be wrong.
“Ellen, I—”
A brisk knock sounded at the door, and they sprang away from each other, guilt written on both of their faces. Rose poked her head round the door. She glanced at Jed standing all the way across the room, his cheeks reddened and his eyes downcast and then turned to Ellen with brisk cheer. “I’ve a pile of handkerchiefs for you, Ellen. What with the dust and dirt of trains, I thought you could use a few more.”
Ellen turned away and brushed at her still-damp cheeks. “Thank you, Aunt Rose.”
Jed shifted uncomfortably. “I should be going.”
“Yes,” Rose agreed, her cheerfulness sounding a bit pointed now, “perhaps you should. Doesn’t Louisa arrive this evening, Jed?”
Ellen bit her lip hard to keep from revealing anything to either Jed or Aunt Rose. It was no more than she’d already known. Jed’s face flushed even redder. “Yes, I need to hitch the wagon up and meet her.”
“So you do,” Rose said briskly. “You must stop by here so we can say a proper hello. But not tonight, perhaps.” She glanced at Ellen, her expression softening. “Not tonight.”
“Another day,” Jed agreed. Ellen still could not frame a word.
“All right, then,” Rose said quietly. She left the handkerchiefs on the bed. “I shall just see to supper.” She left the room, closing the door quietly behind her, and the ensuing silence seemed suffocating to Ellen. Louisa arriving that very evening... and Jed had just held her in his arms. She didn’t know what to think. What to feel.
“Will you take a walk with me?” Jed asked suddenly, and Ellen’s heart leapt with both hope and fear.
“Don’t you need to fetch Louisa?”
“Not for a while yet.”
For a moment Ellen let herself imagine it. They would step out into a soft summer’s evening, twilight falling in a velvety cloak, and perhaps they would say and even do things in that bewitching darkness. And then Louisa would arrive.
Ellen shook her head and forced herself to meet Jed’s gaze levelly. “I don’t think so, Jed.”
He nodded slowly. “It’s just... there are things I’ve wanted to say to you, Ellen. Things I haven’t.”
Jed’s cheeks darkened in a blush. “Maybe not,” he agreed, his fingers clenching on his cap. “But... for old time’s sake, Ellen? Just one last walk?”
Ellen bit her lip. What more could Jed say, that she wanted to hear? Finally, reluctantly, she nodded. “Let me get my shawl.”
Outside the sun was sinking low in the sky, sending long, golden rays across the fields, and touching the tops of the oaks arching over Jasper Lane with bronze. They walked slowly, silently, and Ellen was assailed by bittersweet memories: the first time Jed had come to fetch her, and driven up this very lane—only because she’d insisted he do so. Dancing with him when she was just fourteen—had she been falling in love with him even then? Probably, she thought now. She’d been falling for him from the moment she’d climbed into that old wagon and he’d draped his coat over her shoulders with sullen grace. She let out a tiny sigh, and Jed glanced at her.
“What do you reckon New Mexico will be like?”
“I really couldn’t say. The photographs I’ve seen make it look near to desert.”
“Will you stay out there a while?”
“I shouldn’t think so, not too long anyway. But who knows?”
Jed shoved his hands in his pockets. “So then what will you do?” He sounded a bit surly, and Ellen glanced at him in smiling challenge.
“I’ve no idea, Jed, but it hardly matters to you.”
He turned to her suddenly, the movement sharp and quick. “Is that what you think?”
“Should I think anything else? You’re busy with your own life, Jed, and with Louisa.” She spoke firmly, determined to put things back where they needed to be. “And the life you’re going to make together.”
“Nothing’s been said yet,” he protested and she shook her head.
“Don’t be unfair to Louisa.”
“I’m not.” He let out a ragged sigh. “But aren’t we still friends, Ellen?” He gazed at her, a new yearning in his eyes that had Ellen half-swaying towards him. “Has that changed?”
She took a step backwards. “I should think it has, a bit,” she said quietly. She studied Jed, the surprising and even thrilling storm of emotion in his eyes, the way one hand raked through his hair, making it stand rather ridiculously on end.
“I never meant for that to happen,” he said, his head bent, his voice so low Ellen struggled to hear him. “I never meant for it all to turn out this way. I didn’t want—” He stopped, and Ellen looked down at the dusty road.
“I’m still your friend, Jed,” she said, her voice as low as his. “I always will be.”
“Even though I’m an ignorant farmer?” he said, his voice so low Ellen couldn’t tell if he was teasing or not.
“I didn’t mean that. Not a word.”
He looked up at her, his eyes glinting in the twilight. “Why did you say it, then?”
“Because... because I was jealous, I suppose.”
Jed took a step towards her, one hand outstretched. “Ellen—”
“Jealous of both of you,” she continued quickly. “Jealous of feeling that with someone. With anyone.” She took a deep breath, knowing they were skating dangerously close to things that couldn’t be unsaid. “But you love Louisa, Jed. You’ve been courting for months now.”
“I’d hardly call it courting when she’s been in Vermont.”
“Still.”
He sighed, hooking his thumbs in his suspenders. “I suppose I do.” And Ellen supposed there wasn’t a woman alive who could expect more than that from Jed Lyman. “But,” he continued quietly, “I don’t like things to change.”
Ellen tried to smile. “I look around at the motorcars and soda fountains and realize everything has changed, Jed. You can’t stop it.”
“I’m not talking about soda fountains.”
Ellen swallowed. “Then what are you talking about?” She shouldn’t ask, shouldn’t want to know. Shouldn’t want to hope, even now, and yet she did.
“Just...” Jed shrugged helplessly, and Ellen knew he was caught. Perhaps he felt something for her, perhaps even more than she’d ever hoped or feared. Perhaps he’d realized he loved her, as she had him, yet it was too late. Too late and too little, for Louisa had been invited for the summer, their engagement was already the news of the island, even though it hadn’t been officially announced. She knew it, and she could see from the desperation in his eyes that Jed knew it too.
“Don’t. Don’t say anything either one of us will regret.” Even if she desperately wanted to hear it.
“Maybe I wouldn’t regret it,” Jed whispered, and she shook her head.
“Jed, don’t—” Ellen lifted one hand, and he caught her fingers in his own. The simple touch shook her to her core, and her mouth opened soundlessly as he gently brought her fingers to his lips, his gaze steady and aching on hers.
He released her hand before they’d done more than brush his mouth, but the tiny action sent tremors straight through her, left her weak at the knees and near to shaking.
“Then I won’t say anything,” he said finally, his voice unbearably sad, and slowly he raised one hand in farewell. “Goodbye, Ellen.”
Ellen still had not found her voice as Jed turned and walked down the lane, the sun bathing his head and shoulders in the golden, fading light, his back forever to her.
EIGHT
It seemed as if half of Stella came out to bid Ellen goodbye. As she stepped into the ferry, Captain Jonah, grizzled as ever, standing with one arm on the helm, she wondered if everyone sensed what a momentous journey this was. It was the beginning, she thought, of the rest of her life.
“You will write,” Rose reminded her with a catch in her voice.
“Yes, although I might be back before my letters arrive,” Ellen replied with a little smile. “I don’t think I shall stay too long. It would be an imposition on Da.” And she really didn’t know how much, after all these years, they’d have to say to each other.
“Yes, of course...” Rose trailed off, and Ellen knew what she meant. She was asking Ellen to keep in touch, and more than that, to consider the island her home, no matter how far she went or what distant dream she pursued.
Ellen reached out to clasp Rose’s hand before settling in the little boat. “I’ll write, and more,” she promised, and Rose smiled in acceptance.
Ellen saw Lucas in the crowd at the wharf, smiling his farewell with wry sorrow. Jed and Louisa were there as well, in the back, both of their faces blank and closed although they smiled. The ache inside Ellen had lessened, just a little, and she smiled at them all.
So many dear faces, so many memories. She wanted to think of the good things now, the many good things in her life. And then she wanted to think of the future. She lifted her arm for one last wave and amidst a chorus of farewells Captain Jonah headed into the ruffled blue waters.
“You travel more than any islander I know,” he said as the boat bobbed gently on the waves and Amherst Island became no more than a green smudge in the distance. “I don’t know why you don’t just stay put, Ellen Copley.”
“You think me an islander?” Ellen asked, half-teasingly, and Captain Jonah gave her a considering look from under his bushy brows.
“Aye, I suppose I do, at that,” he admitted gruffly.
Ellen smiled. “There’s no higher compliment than that, Captain Jonah.”
He grinned at her. “You’re right there.”
At Kingston Ellen boarded the Pullman Palace Car to Chicago, half-expecting a conductor to tell her she was in the wrong place. The elegant seats in the parlor car, with their crimson velvet upholstery, felt far too fine for her. Yet no one looked twice at her, in her new dress of pale rose silk trimmed with three inches of lace, and a hat in the latest style swathed in lace netting to keep the worst of the travel dust from her. She felt elegant and grown-up and yet exceedingly self-conscious as well, so she took out her sketchbook and began to draw w
hat she saw, surely the best way to calm her nerves.
After half an hour, as the city was left behind for rolling meadows, she felt someone’s gaze upon her and self-conscious again, she looked up. The parlor car was nearly empty; besides a dozing businessman and a stuffy-looking matron swathed in bombazine, the only other customer was a natty-looking gentleman at the end of the car. His hair and eyes were both black, the ends of his mustache slicked with pomade, and he was looking right at her.
Ellen felt herself flush under the scrutiny of his stare; surely no gentleman would look at an unaccompanied lady thus. Yet he looked like a gentleman, in his fancy clothes, and after a second’s pause when he realized she had caught him staring, he shot her a wry smile and bowed his head in apologetic acknowledgement before looking away.
Still flushing, Ellen turned back to her sketches, but she did not draw anything more.
As the sun began to set and the train headed towards Buffalo, Ellen went to the dining car for her dinner. The dining car was every bit as elegant as the parlor one; tables bedecked with white linen and fine silver graced the narrow car, velvet curtains at the windows and chandeliers overhead. The tuxedoed waiter ushered her to a private table, and as she walked through the car she passed the gentleman she’d seen in the parlor car. He was staring at her again, and he smiled as she passed. Ellen held her head high and swept past him without any acknowledgement.
A few minutes later, as she perused the menu, the waiter approached her. “Excuse me, miss, but the gentleman at the far table inquires if you would care to dine with him.”
Ellen looked up, startled and amazed. She had never heard of a man being so forward. “I should think not,” she said crisply, and the waiter bowed his head.
“Very good, miss.”
She kept her gaze on the menu as the waiter walked to the other end of the car, and her face flamed as she heard him murmur to the man. She could not make out the words, but it hardly mattered. She could quite easily guess their nature. Doubt suddenly assailed her. She had little experience of the larger world; perhaps such an invitation was commonplace. Perhaps she was the rude one.