Be My Love

by Kit Pearson

  Then a star streaked across—and another! Of course—tonight was the peak of the Perseid meteor shower. David had planned for them all to stay up past midnight and watch it. He must have forgotten.

  I’ll stay up, Maisie decided. Midnight must be only an hour or so away. And she couldn’t bear to go in. If only she could wrap up this magical summer night and keep it to comfort her in the winter.

  She reached the hotel, glimpsing a few more darting stars as she walked. Some of the guests were chattering on the veranda:

  “And she never paid me back!”

  “. . . all veiny and swollen.”

  “Was that the really tall guy?”

  How silly people sounded! Maisie walked past them and up the hill that led away from the hotel and along the shore. Now it was dark enough to use her flashlight. She and Una used to sneak out of bed on nights like this and be detectives, lighting up the road and looking for clues. How free it had felt to wander around in the dark without the grown-ups knowing! But they probably did know, she realized now. The island was so safe they let them be.

  It was silent now, and the brilliant stars seemed to hum above her. Hoo-hoo-hoo-hoooo, called a distant owl.

  Maisie spread her arms, as if she were embracing the whole peaceful island. If only I could live here all the time, she thought.

  Then she had a marvellous idea. Maybe, when she was an adult, she could! Maybe she could take care of Granny and Grand when they were old. After they died—a terrible thought, but it was going to happen one day—she could live in their house.

  But if she never married, she wouldn’t have a husband to support her. What would she do for a living?

  Make things . . . the idea seized her so strongly that Maisie chuckled out loud. People always needed shelves or tables or birdhouses. She could sell them at the store! And she could fix sagging doors and broken fences, and construct gates. She didn’t know how to do all those things, but she could learn.

  That’s what I’m going to do! Maisie told David in her head. I’m going to be a carpenter! Despite what he had said, it didn’t seem possible that women could ever be rectors; but she didn’t see why they couldn’t be carpenters. For the first time since Dad had become ill, the future didn’t look bleak.

  She was approaching a steep narrow path that led down to a cove. Maisie decided to sit there for a while, to contemplate these exciting plans that seemed to have zoomed into her mind like the shooting stars.

  Her light led her down to the beach. At the far end she spotted two distant figures sitting on a log. Maisie halted and tried to make out who they were, but all she could see were their dark backs. It was tempting to light them up with her flashlight, but that would startle them.

  She could tell from their outlines that the couple was a boy and a girl—probably guests from the hotel. Maisie watched, both fascinated and repulsed, as they stopped whispering and began a lingering kiss.

  Then they drew apart, and a voice rang out clearly: “Oh, David!”

  Chapter Ten

  The Letter

  Maisie didn’t know how she got home. After stumbling into bed with her clothes on, she plunged into sleep. Maybe what she had witnessed would turn out to have been a dream.

  But when she awoke, the relentless fact was waiting for her: Una and David had kissed.

  Somehow she got through the motions of eating breakfast and accompanying her grandparents to the fair. Standing beside Granny at the children’s handicraft display, she felt like a sleepwalker. Her knitting hadn’t won a ribbon, of course. It slumped on the table, grimy and ashamed, among the pristine winning garments.

  “Oh, chickie, you should have given me your sweater to wash!” scolded Granny.

  “There wasn’t time,” mumbled Maisie.

  They wandered around the crowded room, examining the rest of the entries. Long tables were spread with produce, homemade wine, floral arrangements, baked goods, honey, jams and jellies, and arts and crafts. People jostled and exclaimed as they leaned in to see who had won each category.

  “Seven ribbons—that’s a record for me!” gloated Granny. “And this year I beat Mildred in canning and needlepoint.” She frowned when they reached the pie section. The First Prize ribbon had been awarded to a Mrs. Hastie.

  “Humph,” Granny sniffed. “I don’t think summer people should be allowed to enter, do you, chickie?”

  Maisie was too distracted to remind Granny that she, Maisie, was a summer person. She was scanning the crowd for Una. To her relief, she couldn’t see her anywhere. And David was absent, as well, even though there was a blue ribbon on his piece of driftwood labelled Sad Donkey—the only entry in the “undressed” category.

  I bet they’re together, she thought bitterly. Everyone else is at the fair, and they’re alone in Una’s room, kissing . . .

  Rage filled Maisie like foul black bile. She escaped from the suffocating crowd and went out to sit under the trees in the grounds, away from the people buying lunch at the tables selling sandwiches and drinks.

  Why am I so angry? she wondered, fanning her hot face. After all, it was perfectly normal for teenagers to kiss each other!

  It was partly their deception. They must have been secretly meeting the whole time David was visiting. Perhaps at the hotel in the mornings, and in the evenings when she and Una didn’t sleep in the Hut. Maisie tried to remember how many of those there were. She imagined how Una would tell the adults she was going for a walk to look at the stars, how she would meet David at the cove every time, how eagerly they would embrace . . .

  And last night . . . of course Una was agitated; of course she said she was sick! Maisie almost gagged.

  She should have told me! thought Maisie. But would she be any happier if Una had? It wasn’t just the deception; it was the fact that Una wanted to be with someone other than her. It was like when Bev was here, but far, far worse.

  Maisie wiped her eyes with her sleeve. What’s the matter with me? Una is my best friend! Surely I should be happy she has a boyfriend.

  “Maisie, what are you doing out here all by yourself?” Polly and Clary were standing in front of her.

  “I won First Prize, Maisie!” crowed Clary. She was holding a painting of orange-and-purple smears. A blue ribbon was attached to it.

  Maisie tried to smile.

  “She wasn’t supposed to take away her painting, but she refused to leave it,” said Polly.

  “Where’s Una?” Maisie forced herself to ask. “I didn’t see her in there.”

  “She had cramps, so she stayed in bed.”

  Cramps sure were handy sometimes. When Una really got her monthlies, everyone was going to wonder why it happened so often.

  Maisie wanted to know why David wasn’t here, either, but she couldn’t form the words.

  * * *

  David and his mother were supposed to leave on the late-afternoon steamer. Maisie spent all afternoon on the swinging chair on the veranda, escaping into a childhood book. Not Nancy Drew. She was never going to read those books again! How could she have forgotten that Nancy had a boyfriend named Ned?

  Instead Maisie chose her favourite, Stuart Little, taking a bit of comfort in the chivalrous mouse and his adventures. Granny and Grand were visiting the Cunninghams, and the house was quiet and peaceful. The living room clock chimed out the creeping time.

  Just three more hours . . . just two more . . . just an hour and a half and he’ll be gone . . . David and his mother planned to stay in Vancouver tonight and take the train to Boston tomorrow morning. At least that was far away from Una. But they could write to each other and plan to meet again. Or Una could beg to go and see him while she and Maud were in Toronto . . .

  Stop thinking about it! Maisie finished her book with a gulp. How sad the ending was! The little mouse was headed north, still seeking his lost love.

  “Maisie?”

  David!

  He stood on the veranda steps hesitantly. “May I sit down?” he asked.

 
What could she say? She nodded.

  David looked awful. Purple smudges curved under his eyes, and his usually clean hair hung in greasy strings.

  “Una isn’t here,” muttered Maisie.

  “I know. I need to talk to you alone.”

  Despite herself, Maisie couldn’t help giving in to the desperate look in his intense eyes. “What about?” she asked.

  “Well, it’s kind of awkward. I need you to do me a favour. Will you?”

  Didn’t that depend on what it was? But again, Maisie had to nod.

  David pulled an envelope out of his pocket. “This is a letter for Una, but I don’t want her to read it until after I’ve left. Would you give it to her tonight?”

  Maisie took the envelope. “All right,” she said slowly. “But why are you writing her a letter when you’re still here?”

  David looked so lost. “I just am. Please, Maisie, can you get it to her? I’d be so grateful if you could.”

  “Sure, it’s no problem.”

  “Thanks, Maise, you’re a chum!” He stood up. “We’re leaving soon. Are you coming to the wharf to see us off?”

  “Probably not. I have to—to pick some beans for dinner.” That sounded so lame, but she couldn’t think of another excuse.

  “Then I’ll say goodbye now. I’ve really enjoyed getting to know you, Maisie—you’re a good kid.”

  He patted her awkwardly on the shoulder. Then he walked rapidly down the steps and along the road.

  Maisie sat there until he was out of sight. Then she ran into the house to open the letter.

  * * *

  Of course she shouldn’t . . . but she was beyond caring about right and wrong. She had to do it carefully, however, so Una wouldn’t notice. Steam! That’s what people in books used to open letters.

  First she had to make a small fire in the stove. Once the kettle was boiling she held the envelope over the steaming spout. Ouch! Her fingers burned, and she had to keep pulling them away. The envelope wrinkled alarmingly, but finally the glue loosened enough so she could carefully peel open the flap.

  She took the letter to the Hut—in case Granny and Grand returned. Then she removed it from the envelope. Her hands trembled—what words would the two sheets contain?

  Dear, sweet Una,

  I’m so sorry I rushed away from you like that, but I couldn’t stay. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I’m five years older than you are! That’s why I left. Our kisses were going on and on and I never wanted to stop, but I knew that was wrong.

  When we met at Dad’s funeral, I was amazed at how much you had grown up. I loved our conversation—you were so kind to me in my grief. I’ve enjoyed spending time with you on the island and getting to know you better. But until last night, I just thought of you as a friend.

  Now all that has changed. You looked so incredibly beautiful, sitting there under the stars, that when you asked me to kiss you, I couldn’t resist.

  When I got back to my room, I sat up all night and tried to sort out my feelings. Dad always told me to be absolutely honest with people, so that’s what I’m trying to be. It’s very simple, really. I’m falling in love with you! You are so special, Una—not only beautiful, but kind and talented and fun to be with.

  But you’re just an innocent kid! I have no right to ask any commitments of you, but I also don’t want to lose the possibility that perhaps one day we could have a relationship. So I have a request. Una, my sweet girl, could we wait until you’ve finished high school and then see how we feel about each other? It wouldn’t be proper for us to meet before then, but perhaps we could write. If, in three years, you feel the same way about me as I do about you, perhaps we could try getting together again.

  Let me know what you think. I’ve written my Boston address below—we should be there by next weekend. If I don’t hear from you, then I’ll know you don’t feel the same about me as I do about you. I will respect that, and I won’t write again.

  I gave this letter to Maisie for you to open tonight. She’s a good friend to you, and I don’t mind if you show it to her. I know you won’t tell anyone else in the family. How they would disapprove! I don’t blame them. You’re far too young for me to ask anything of you. I shouldn’t even be writing this letter, but I can’t bear to lose the possibility, however slight, that we might one day be together.

  How I hope you will write back!

  Much love,

  David

  Maisie gulped in air—she had been holding her breath the whole time she’d been reading the letter. She read it twice more, each word seared in her brain. Only one thought possessed her: Una must not read this!

  Crumpling the letter and envelope, she ran to the house. She paused at the back door as she heard the whistle of the steamer. Granny and Grand weren’t back—they would have gone down to the wharf to say goodbye.

  The stove was still hot from boiling the kettle. Maisie lifted one of the stovetop covers and dropped the letter into the embers. It blazed up quickly. She watched until the little fire had turned to cinders, until she was certain that not one inky word remained. After spreading out the ashes, she replaced the cover.

  Then she went out to pick the beans.

  Chapter Eleven

  A Lost Sheep

  The next morning Granny asked, “Rand, have you written to the dean yet?”

  “I have, but don’t get your hopes up, my dear. All the seats may be taken.”

  “But you and Ernie Lloyd are old friends! Surely he can arrange something for us. Perhaps you should telephone him.”

  “I’m certain a letter will be fine. It’s not until October, after all.”

  Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip were coming to Canada. They would spend seven days on the coast, and while they were in Vancouver would attend a church service at the cathedral. Granny was determined that Canon Lloyd, the dean, would reserve them a seat.

  “Who cares if you get seats or not?” snapped Maisie. “Why should it be such a big deal? They’re just people!”

  “Maisie, how can you say that—she is a princess!”

  “Sorry, Granny,” she muttered. “I know how much they mean to you. They just don’t to me, that’s all.”

  Granny looked hurt. “They did once. You used to love looking at my scrapbooks!”

  “Maisie is entitled to her own opinion,” said Grand. “But perhaps you could express it a little more gently,” he added.

  She apologized again and fled the breakfast table. If this tiny issue could disappoint them, what would they think if they knew what she had done?

  * * *

  Maisie waited anxiously for Una to tell her everything about the kiss. She managed to avoid her all morning, but after lunch Una appeared at the door.

  “Are you feeling better, chickie?” asked Granny. “How glad I am that I don’t have to endure my monthly visitor anymore!”

  Una blushed. “I’m fine, Aunt Jean. Maisie, come for a walk.”

  Maisie had never been a good actor. Some of her friends yearned for parts in the school play; she always volunteered to work behind the scenes.

  But now she had to force herself into the disguise of the kind and sympathetic cousin. She listened and nodded and made appropriate soothing comments as they sat in the Hut and Una poured it all out.

  She went into every detail. How she’d grown fonder of David every moment, how she just couldn’t tell if he felt the same.

  “On Friday I felt so desperate—David was leaving the next day and I might never see him again! So before dinner I asked him to go for a walk later, so he could show me the meteor shower.”

  “But we were all going to do that!”

  “Sorry, Maise. But it was the only way I could think of to see David alone—we never had been.”

  Maisie flinched; so Una hadn’t deceived her after all! “Did you have a good time?” was all she could think of replying.

  “Oh, George—it was the best night of my life! At first we were kind of awkward, but then I felt mo
re and more comfortable with him. We talked and talked, the way we did at the funeral. I felt as if I had known David forever. We went down to that little cove past the hotel. The waves were all sparkly. We dipped our hands in the water and made designs. David was really interested in the luminescence, of course. He said it was light given off by plankton in the water. What a lot he knows!”

  Just get on with it! thought Maisie, but of course Una wanted to linger over every moment.

  “David was really quiet for a while. He looked so handsome and I just . . . longed for him so much that I—well, I asked him if he would kiss me! He seemed kind of surprised. But then—oh, Maisie, he did!”

  Maisie tried not to look away from her friend’s radiant face.

  “It was amazing—better than all the love songs. We just kept kissing and kissing. It made me tingle all over my body, and I wanted it to go on forever. But then David jumped up and ran away! I don’t know what happened! Did I do something wrong?”

  Then the tears came. Maisie patted Una’s shoulder as she sobbed. “The next morning I was afraid to see David in front of everyone—I thought they would all be able to tell how I felt. So I pretended I was sick. What was he like at the fair, Maisie? Did he seem unhappy?”

  “He wasn’t at the fair,” she muttered.

  “He wasn’t? Then he must have stayed at the hotel! Oh, if only I’d gone over there then he could have explained!”

  “Did you go to the wharf?”

  “No! I intended to, but I thought he’d come over and say goodbye. When he didn’t, I thought he didn’t want to see me. But why not?” Una mopped her face with her handkerchief. “Did you go to the wharf?”

  Maisie shook her head.

  “I know he and his mother took the train to Boston today,” said Una. She grabbed Maisie’s hand. “Do you think he knows?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “That I’m illegitimate! His parents may have told him. Do you think that while he was kissing me, he was afraid I’d want to go all the way like Mum did, and that’s why he ran away?”