“We can always use help.”

“I would like to finish through next year, if I may,” Ellen continued. “And get my Year Eight Certificate.” She took a breath, staring down at her place. “And perhaps even go to high school.”

Ruth’s mouth dropped open before pinching closed once more. “High school! Whatever for?”

“One day I’ll need to make my way in this world. An education would help.”

Ruth looked like she wanted to argue, but after a moment she just shrugged. “We’ll see about that. High school is expensive.”

This last sentiment was heavy with emphasis, and Ellen went cold. “Isn’t my father...?” She trailed off, suddenly filled with uncertainty. She’d always assumed her father would send money from the railway, money to keep her from being dependent on charity. Surely he would give her that much. Yet now she wondered if he was sending anything at all. Was that why Ruth had been so eager to send her to Amherst Island, because she was expensive to keep?

Ruth gave a cold little smile. “Ah, your father. You hadn’t asked about him. A letter came for you, around Christmastime.”

She rifled in the dresser, and then handed Ellen a creased envelope.

She saw it had already been opened, despite it being addressed to her, and she bit her lip. A letter from Da. She wanted to read it in private, but clearly Ruth wouldn’t have that. She waited, arms folded, so Ellen had no choice but to read it right there.

Dear Ellen, I’ve arrived in Santa Fe and am at work laying the rails straight down to Mexico. It’s not my usual work, but I’ve come to like it and nothing beats sleeping under the stars of a night. They say it’ll take another six months to reach the border. Keep well. Da.

Ellen read the letter through twice before laying it on the table. It had been so short, so uninformative, the letter of a stranger or at best an acquaintance. There had been no word of returning home, no apology for skipping out without a goodbye, no words of love or encouragement or kindness. She hadn’t expected any of that, Ellen realized, and the thought made her sad. She’d given up on her da and she hadn’t fully realized it until this moment. She looked up at her aunt.

“He seems well.”

Aunt Ruth stared at her for a moment, and Ellen saw a softening of her features. “I sent you to Rose because I could tell you were miserable here,” she said abruptly. “I thought the other children might be good for you.”

Ellen could only stare, her wits too scattered to form a reply, and Aunt Ruth swooped down to take her plate, her face averted. “Now, you need to wash your face—there’s coal dust smu

dged on your cheek. You look like a navvy! And I suppose we’ll have to see about fetching your valise from the station. You left it there for us to fetch, I presume?”

Ellen blinked. This was the Aunt Ruth she knew. For a moment, she’d seemed like someone else entirely.

FIVE

Returning to Seaton had at least two surprises for Ellen. One was that she was thankfully moved from Mr. Phillips’ class to Miss Evans’. Mr. Phillips had her tested, and he grudgingly admitted that she could probably scrape by in the older class. Ellen took her seat among the pupils her own age with a grateful little sigh.

The other surprise was Louisa Hopper. Louisa had moved to Seaton with her family just a few weeks before Ellen returned. Her father had transferred from Rutland to run the Vermont National Bank branch in Seaton, and such a position came with a fair amount of prestige. The Hoppers awed even the snobbiest of Seaton, with their fancy clothes, gleaming motorcar, and the large, gracious home Mr. Hopper had built on the corner of Maple and Water Streets.

Louisa could have been friends with any girl in Seaton, and all of them attempted to garner her attention, giving her little gifts of hair ribbons or humbugs, and yet, for a reason Ellen could not fathom, she picked her to be her best friend.

“You’re the only one who isn’t toadying to me,” she confided, linking arms with an astonished Ellen one May morning in the schoolyard. She bent her head with its glossy, coppery curls towards Ellen’s. “I think I’ll have you for my best friend.”

“I didn’t realize you chose friends like that,” Ellen replied a bit tartly, and Louisa wrinkled her nose.

“Oh, do you mean I should ask you first? You don’t mind, do you?”

“I suppose not,” Ellen said, for Louisa was fairly pulling her along as they walked the perimeter of the schoolyard, heads still bent together. Besides, she didn’t have any other friends in Seaton, so she might as well have Louisa.

“Good! Now why weren’t you here when I arrived? Have you been somewhere exciting? Have you had scarlet fever?”

“No,” Ellen said with a laugh at Louisa’s deliberately melodramatic tone. “But my cousins did. I’ve been in Ontario, on Amherst Island all winter, helping them.”

“Amherst Island!” Louisa breathed, and Ellen thought she could very well be on stage, with the way she dramatized every syllable. “It sounds wonderful, like a jewel. A jewel on the sea. Tell me all about it, do.”

So Ellen did, describing the lake and the little town, and of course all the people, from Captain Jonah to Miss Gardiner to funny little Ruthie, with her snapping eyes and head of black curls. For some reason she couldn’t fathom she didn’t mention Jed or Lucas. Yet describing everyone else made her feel homesick, longing for Amherst Island with a strength and desperation that caused a lump to form in her throat and she had to blink back sudden tears as Louisa pulled her forward for another turn around the schoolyard.

“What a funny place,” Louisa sighed when Ellen had lapsed into silence. “It sounds magical. You’ll take me there one day, won’t you?” She turned wide green eyes appealingly towards Ellen, who blinked in surprise at her new friend’s forward question.

“I don’t even know if I’m going back myself.”

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