by Kit Pearson
Maisie felt as raw as if she had shed a skin. Everything was in sharper focus—the dark firs against the sapphire sky, Grand’s old hands like ripply mahogany, Clary’s eyes as blue as her cornflower smock. It was as if Maisie’s heart had turned a somersault like the raven.
Yet she still ached with the loss of Una. It was up to her cousin to make the first move, but she continued to avoid Maisie.
“Have you and Una had a tiff?” asked Granny. “She hasn’t been over here lately.”
“Of course we haven’t,” said Maisie carelessly. “She’s just busy . . . practising. She’s trying to learn a really hard piece before she goes back to school. And I’ve been busy painting your bookcase.”
She lowered her face to hide her lie. At least in a few days Maisie would be gone—before the rest of the family noticed that she and Una weren’t speaking.
On Labour Day Aunt Esther and Uncle Daniel had a lunch for Maisie and her parents. They were leaving on the afternoon steamer.
“How I hate it when you all start to go!” said Granny, as they walked to the hotel. “But at least I’ll see your family at Thanksgiving, chickie. Maud and Una won’t be here, though. Did you know they’re going to Toronto?”
“Uh-huh.”
What if Granny knew why? Had she and Grand ever heard of homosexuality? Probably not . . . they were much too old to know about such things.
“Are you looking forward to going back to school?” Grand asked.
Maisie shrugged. School seemed faraway and trivial. But at least it would be a rest from the intensity of the past few weeks. And she needed to be away from here, to have time to digest what Maud had told her, to take in the possibility Maud had revealed.
Maisie walked between her grandparents, swinging an arm of each. “I’ll miss you so much!” she told them.
She noticed that Mum and Dad were also holding hands. Then Maisie was looking forward to going home. It would be different now, because Dad was so much better. He wasn’t ready to search for another job, however.
“I’ll get a job,” Mum had announced yesterday. “Celia Partridge has been asking me for ages if I want to help in her craft store.”
“That doesn’t seem right,” Dad had replied anxiously. “I should be supporting us.”
Mum had smiled. “We can support each other. And I’m excited about having a real job—I never have! You two can take care of yourselves. After all, Maisie will be in high school, so she won’t be coming home for lunch anymore.”
High school . . . Maisie had almost forgotten that she’d be at a large new school next year. The same kids from junior high would attend, but there would be a whole new group from the surrounding countryside to meet, as well. That would be refreshing. And it would be easier to avoid Jim in a bigger school.
All through the farewell lunch she watched Una, storing up every detail until she saw her at Christmas. Una’s long fingers automatically played tunes on the tablecloth. Her voice rang with joy as she joked with Polly.
That’s because she was in love with David. What must it be like to have that security? To already know which person was the most important in the world to you?
Well, I know that, too! thought Maisie. But in her case, it wasn’t reciprocated. Then she had to stop looking at Una, her heart hurt so much.
“Maisie?”
Una was speaking to her! Maisie was so shocked that she almost spit out her mouthful of cake.
“Do you—do you want to go for a walk? There’s plenty of time before the steamer arrives.”
“All right,” muttered Maisie.
They thanked Aunt Esther and Uncle Daniel and went out into the sunshine. Una stumbled in her silly heels, until she took them off and left them on the side of the road to retrieve later.
“Are you still angry with me?” blurted out Maisie.
“I don’t want to talk about it yet. Let’s go to the beach.”
Una led them down to the same cove—even the same log. Not here! thought Maisie, but she could never reveal that she had spied on them.
“I’m still a little angry, but not as much,” said Una. She grinned. “It’s hard to be mad when I’m so happy! And I need to talk to you. Oh, Maisie, I phoned David! He does love me! We have to wait three years before we see each other, but we can write. It’s a kind of trial. I know we’ll love each other even more when it’s over. I bet we’ll even get married one day! David didn’t say anything about that, of course, because I’m so young—but I’m sure he feels the same.”
Maisie wanted to remind her of Maud’s doubts. But she couldn’t spoil Una’s utter belief in a fairy tale ending, not after what she’d already spoiled.
“Is David mad at me?” she asked.
“Well, not so much mad as surprised. He didn’t understand why you did it, and I didn’t know what to tell him.” Una looked at her curiously. “Why did you burn the letter? Didn’t you want me to be happy?”
What could she possibly answer? Help me, God . . .
“I—I just wanted you to myself, I guess,” said Maisie. “We’ve always been such close friends, but if you were going to be with David that would change.”
“But of course it won’t! We’ll always be friends! We’re Nancy and George, right? Nothing has changed between us. And no matter what happens between David and me, nothing ever will!”
Everything had changed . . . but Maisie couldn’t tell her that.
She gazed at Una’s perfect face, at her smooth cheeks and rosy mouth. Now she understood exactly how David had felt, sitting on this same log—how he had found Una’s beauty so irresistible that he couldn’t help accepting her request for a kiss.
“Do you forgive me, then?” she whispered.
Una grinned. “Yes, I forgive you! You’re my best friend!”
Maisie took a deep breath. She knew what she had to ask next.
“May I kiss you?”
“Of course!”
Maisie had kissed Una a thousand times before: hello kisses, goodbye kisses, goodnight kisses, all the ordinary kisses of family life . . .
This was different. She leaned over and pressed her lips firmly against Una’s.
Una drew back in surprise. Then she giggled away whatever confusion she felt. “What a goose you are, George!” She went to the shore and began skipping stones.
“Someday you will know for sure,” Maud had said. Maisie didn’t have to wait for someday. She knew right now.
Chapter Seventeen
A Year Later
Maisie stood on the deck of the steamer, waving goodbye. Mum and Dad had gone into the lounge to talk to a friend, but Maisie liked to linger as the island retreated behind her. She watched her family leave the wharf. Polly and Chester’s new terrier was tugging Clary on its leash. Una’s slim figure turned around and waved again. Maisie waved vigorously back.
The past two months had been calm and uneventful, even a bit boring at times: the kind of deliciously lazy summer when you sit on the veranda swing with a lemonade and a book and there’s absolutely nothing you should be doing.
Maisie and Una’s friendship was entirely restored. They never mentioned the burned letter. Una kept Maisie up to date on David, how he would be doing a fall internship at an observatory in California. To Maisie’s relief, Una never told Maisie anything intimate from his letters. Every evening Una visited the log where she and David had kissed. She’d carved their initials in it.
In February the king had died, and Princess Elizabeth had become the new, young queen. Before that happened, Granny and Grand had actually met her! The dean of the cathedral had gotten them seats for the service the royal couple had attended last fall. After it there was a reception for a chosen few, including Maisie’s grandparents.
Granny had curtsied (she’d practised for weeks), then shaken the royal hands. Princess Elizabeth and Prince Philip had each said “How do you do?” and moved on to the next person. That’s all that had happened, but now Granny preserved in a special drawer the glove that royalty
had touched. “When I met the queen” had become her constant phrase.
“You didn’t meet the queen! She was only a princess then” was Mrs. Cunningham’s retort.
But she couldn’t deny that Granny had met the woman who was now the head of the Commonwealth. Nothing could top that. Until Mrs. Cunningham came up with something better, Granny was a queen in her own right—the queen of the island.
Even before Una turned sixteen, she asked Chester to teach her how to drive. To Maisie’s delight, she was included in the lessons. They borrowed Grand’s ancient car and were allowed to drive it themselves—but only once a week because of the price of gas. Every Saturday morning they went on an excursion, taking turns at the wheel.
Maisie adored the feeling of control as she skilfully shifted gears and steered the car along the bumpy roads. On the rare occasions another car or tractor or horse passed them Una would pull over in a panic, but if Maisie was at the wheel, she calmly drove on. She decided that if she ever earned enough money, the first thing she would purchase would be a car of her own.
In August Una had invited Hilda, from her class, to visit the island. Maisie asked her new friend Dien to stay, also. The four of them got on well. They spent the whole week building a tree fort for Clary. Maisie supervised and was proud of how much she taught them.
Dien and her parents and brothers had moved to Canada from the Netherlands after the war. She and Maisie met in the first week of high school. Dien was strong and practical. Her family had a dairy farm outside of Duncan, and Maisie often spent the day there, helping to bring the cows back to the barn and milk them. Sometimes Dien told her what a terrible time her family had had in Holland before they left. “We were so hungry we ate tulip bulbs!” she once said. Maisie listened in horror. What a safe war she’d experienced, in contrast to her friend!
Dien’s parents had come for dinner and told Dad how grateful they were to the Canadians for liberating them. Dad had actually talked for a whole hour to them about the war.
Maisie was surprised at how much she enjoyed high school. There was much more variety in people and courses than there had been in junior high. At first she and Jim had avoided each other. Then Jim found a girlfriend, and he went back to his comfortable bantering with Maisie. He called her by her last name, as if she were one of the guys.
Maisie had talked the principal into letting her and Dien take shop, even though they were the only girls. She made a stool using a power saw. Mum was terrified that she’d slice off a finger, but Dad supported her. He gave Maisie free rein of his workshop, saying she now knew just as much as he did.
Once a month Dad travelled to Vancouver to meet with a psychiatrist. He gave Dad some pills that helped him stay calm. Maisie wondered if Dad had talked to him about Johnny. As far as she knew, he hadn’t told Mum or Grand, and he didn’t mention it to Maisie again.
After Christmas Dad began working part-time in the hardware store. Mum continued to work in the craft shop. They had moved from the rectory into a smaller house nearby. After rent there wasn’t much money for extras, but Maisie didn’t mind. She’d never cared about clothes, she could get books from the library, and they bought milk and butter from Dien’s family at a lower price than at the store. Maisie had found an after-school job as a clerk in the grocery and was proud that she could contribute.
Maisie was relieved when her family began attending church again; it made their life more normal. The congregation was kind and accepting, and the new young rector started a youth group that Maisie attended. Maisie often brought up tricky questions about God. “You keep us on our toes!” the rector joked.
Maisie wore her secret like an invisible cloak in a fairy tale. It amazed her how differently she now looked at everything. When Betty or Lindy tried to get her to go with them to get their nails done, she just smiled and said she’d rather not. When her mother continued to despair at Maisie’s refusal to wear dresses, Maisie didn’t feel as guilty that she wasn’t girlish enough. Perhaps one day she could tell Mum why.
Sometimes Maisie wondered if Dien was like her. She didn’t seem at all interested in boys; all she cared about was her prize calf. She and Maisie were good pals, but Maisie was not drawn to her the way she was to Una.
Now whenever Una played “Be My Love,” Maisie was just as moved by the lyrics as her friend was. She loved Una. At last Maisie accepted that. It didn’t really help, though, because she would never receive any more from Una than friendship. Maisie kept reminding her longing heart that at least she had Una’s companionship, that her cousin would always be in her life. She couldn’t believe that she’d ever meet anyone else she loved as much.
When she told Maud that, she answered, “You will, Maisie. Just wait and see. People rarely stay with their first love.”
“But look at Mum and Dad, and Polly and Chester!” And Una and David, she added to herself sadly. Una’s utter conviction had convinced Maisie that she and David would end up together.
“You’re right—but they’re exceptions. I promise you that you’ll meet someone else one day.”
Maud was now as much of a rock to Maisie as she was to Una. This summer they’d had many illuminating conversations, in which Maud answered Maisie’s shy questions. She said that she and Sylvia sometimes went to house parties in Toronto where they met women like them. “We were amazed to discover how many of us there are!” said Maud. “It’s so confirming to know that we’re not alone.”
Whenever Maud assured Maisie that it was okay if she wasn’t sure yet, Maisie just smiled quietly to herself. When she was an adult, Maud would fully accept her into this secret world.
Sometimes Maisie thought about how Johnny had loved his friend who had been killed. She wondered if he’d been like her and Maud. Maybe that was why the other men had spurned him.
The steamer rounded the corner, and Kingfisher Island was out of sight. The light had dimmed, and the air turned chilly, but Maisie stayed outside, gazing at the dark shapes of passing islands and the fiery-rimmed clouds.
Now she had only two more years of school! Mum and Dad were already talking about Maisie attending university in Vancouver. “You’ll have to work hard and get a scholarship,” Mum kept saying.
Maud had suggested that Maisie live with them while she and Una went to U.B.C. “It will save on expenses, and of course we’d both love to have you.”
Una would probably be with David then. That would be too painful to observe every day. And besides, Maisie wouldn’t be there. She hadn’t yet gathered up the courage to tell the adults that she wasn’t going to university at all—that she was going to be a carpenter! Her shop teacher, Mr. Dudik, knew a local woodworker who was willing to take on Maisie as an apprentice after she finished high school. This fall Mr. Dudik would introduce Maisie to him. She worried that she’d have to pay him. If so, how would her family come up with the money? Maybe she could carry on with her grocery job after she left school.
The years ahead were uncertain and scary. But Maisie always had the island. She still intended to live with Granny and Grand as soon as she could. The piney air and the sparkling sea and the love-filled refuge of the rectory were the foundation of her being.
Dad had announced at dinner last week that, in a year or two when he felt stronger, he wanted to take a course in something. War vets could go to college for free, so he could attend a trade school in Nanaimo.
“Maybe I’ll become a butcher!” he joked.
Mum laughed. “Or a baker, or a candlestick maker!”
“Perhaps you’ll even go back to the priesthood,” said Grand quietly.
Dad smiled at his father. “Who knows? Anything could happen. I’m reinventing myself!”
So am I, thought Maisie.
Acknowledgements
Many thanks to my editor, Suzanne Sutherland, and my agent, Marie Campbell; to my former editors, Hadley Dyer and David Kilgour; to Ann Farris, Romilly Grauer, and the late Wendy Porteous, for their memories of the 1940s and 1950s; to Nancy Bo
nd, Heather Maclean, Herbert O’Driscoll, and Susan Scott; and especially to Katherine Farris, my inspiration always.
Kingfisher Island, a fictional creation, is based on one of the Gulf Islands between Vancouver and Victoria.
About the Author
KIT PEARSON is an award-winning, critically acclaimed Canadian children’s author. Her books include The Daring Game; A Handful of Time; the Guests of War trilogy (The Sky Is Falling, Looking at the Moon, and The Lights Go On Again); Awake and Dreaming; Whispers of War; A Perfect Gentle Knight; The Whole Truth as well as And Nothing But the Truth; and, most recently, A Day of Signs and Wonders. In 2018, Kit was appointed a member of the Order of Canada. She lives in Victoria, BC. Visit her at www.KitPearson.com.
Discover great authors, exclusive offers, and more at harpercollins.ca.
Also by Kit Pearson
A Day of Signs and Wonders
The Whole Truth
And Nothing But the Truth
Copyright
Be My Love
Copyright © 2019 by Kathleen Pearson.
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
Published by HarperTrophyCanada™, an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd
FIRST EDITION
BE MY LOVE
Music by NICHOLAS BRODSZKY Lyric by SAMMY CAHN
© 1949, 1950 (Copyrights Renewed) PRIMARY WAVE SONGS
All Rights Controlled and Administered by EMI APRIL MUSIC, INC.(Publishing) and ALFRED MUSIC PUBLISHING CO., INC. (Print)