Down Jasper Lane (Amherst Island Trilogy)

“But you’re right, Ellen, poor Maeve Lyman hasn’t been well, either,” Rose said. “She’s always been poorly, as you know, but because of the wet her cough took a turn for the worse, and over Easter we all thought... well...” Rose’s expression clouded and she shook her head. “But she pulled through, although she’s completely bedridden now, and no one knows...”

“The Lymans have had their fair share of trouble this year, sure enough,” Dyle said somberly, and Ellen felt a sudden twinge of alarm. Why had Lucas never mentioned anything in his letters? They’d always been cheerful, full of news and humor, and yet his mother had been bedridden for most of the year! Jed hadn’t written her of course, yet Ellen still wondered what he’d experienced this last year and how he felt about leaving high school. Was he relieved, or had he come to enjoy going to Glebe? She didn’t know whether she dared ask him.

“I’ll visit Mrs. Lyman as soon as I can,” she said, and Rose nodded in approval.

“I’m sure it would do a world of good. Maeve doesn’t see many people these days, although I always come over of a Monday to help with the washing and baking. But still, you’d be a breath of fresh air to her, Ellen.”

Ellen wasn’t sure about that, but dutifully she took the lantern from its hook by the back door and walked over that very evening. Rose protested she needn’t go that night, but Ellen said she was happy to. Truthfully, she didn’t want to have to take Louisa with her the next day. She didn’t think Louisa would do well in another’s sickroom, and besides, she wasn’t ready to share the Lymans with Louisa, though she knew she would have to soon enough.

It was peaceful to make her way through the copse of trees that separated the Lymans’ property from the McCaffertys’, and the shadows were soft and welcoming. A large, luminous moon had risen in the sky and cast a pearly glow over the pond that had flooded the previous autumn and left several fields now verdant and fallow, if without the hoped-for crops.

As she broke through the trees, Ellen saw the welcoming yellow light of the farmhouse kitchen, and a dog, Stripes, Jed’s puppy from last year’s litter, set to barking as she crossed the barnyard.

The back door opened, and someone peered through the darkness before calling in delight, “Ellen!”

“Hello, Lucas.” Ellen had just set the lantern on the porch steps when Lucas swept her up into a warm embrace. As her arms closed around him automatically, Ellen was surprised again to feel how his thin, boyish frame had filled out; a year ago Lucas had been a scrawny thirteen year old boy, and now he felt almost like a man. It was most disconcerting.

“It’s so good to see you,” he said, releasing her and stepping back so they could both examine each other in the yellow light cast by the lantern. Ellen smiled, seeing how familiar Lucas’ hazel eyes and floppy brown hair were, squinting slightly as he always did because he needed spectacles yet never remembered to wear them. “Come into the kitchen. We’ve just finished supper, but there’s cherry pie left over. Mrs. Hepple is keeping us supplied with all manner of pie.”

“As long as she remembers to take them out of the oven,” Ellen said, recalling her introduction to the cheerful chaos of the McCafferty household, and the absent Mrs. Hepple, nearly two years ago now.

“It’s true she can be a bit forgetful,” Lucas allowed, and led her inside.

Within a few minutes they were both seated at the wide table of scrubbed pine, and he’d fetched the pie from the pantry himself and cut two generous slices.

“Jed’s out in the barn, seeing to the animals,” he said after a moment, and startled, Ellen realized with a guilty flash that she’d been looking around for someone... and it had been Jed.

“Where’s your da?” she asked, and Lucas shrugged.

“In the barn too, most like. I was seeing to Ma.”

“I was sorry to hear she’d taken poorly, Lucas,” Ellen said soberly. “It’s a hard thing.”

Lucas nodded, his eyes shadowing to a darker, deeper brown. “It is. We didn’t think she’d last the spring.”

“Why didn’t you tell me in your letters?” Ellen asked. “It must have weighed on your mind, yet you just wrote to me about poetry and plants and the like.” She shook her head, not understanding why he’d keep such a thing from her.

“It did,” Lucas replied, and there was an understanding glint in his eyes as he added quietly, “but I didn’t want it weighing on yours. I know you’ve borne that burden once already, Ellen.”

Surprised and touched by his perception, Ellen didn’t speak for a moment. “I may have,” she finally said, “but it doesn’t mean I can’t bear it again, at least in some small way. I know how difficult it is, Lucas. I’m sorry for all of you, and your mother most particularly.”

“I know you are.” Lucas sighed and pushed his pie around on his plate. “It was hard without Jed here,” he said after a moment. “Harder than I expected. I knew he always did a lot of work, but...” He trailed off, yet Ellen could all too easily fill it in. She’d seen how the Lyman household was set up; Jed worked and Lucas studied, with some bitterness on both sides. With Jed gone, Lucas would have been expected to take up the slack, and Ellen knew he couldn’t have been used to it.

“Tell me about your plant specimens,” she said. “Have you collected every variety on the island yet, do you think?”

“It’s difficult to tell. Now that everything has been in bud it’s easier to note the changes. Pa ordered me a big book all the way from Toronto—it’s got illustrated plates of just about every plant or tree you can imagine, and in color too.” He smiled, caught up in his own enthusiasm. “I’m hoping to study biology at Queen’s, you know, in Kingston.”

“And in the fall you’ll go to Glebe?” Ellen asked, and heard the wistful note in her own voice.

“Yes, I hope so.” He paused, and Ell

en knew he was thinking about his mother, and the uncertainty of their entire household as long as she was ill. “And what about you, Ellen? Your aunt mentioned you might stay beyond the summer.” Now the wistful note could be heard in Lucas’ voice, and for some reason it made Ellen blush.

“It’s hard to say...” she began, when the creak of the back door and the heavy tread of booted feet cut her off. She turned, and felt her heart give a funny sort of somersault before beating extra hard at the sight of Jed’s tousled hair and weary expression.

His expression cleared—blanked, really—for a moment as he caught sight of Ellen, and then he smiled with his usual touch of mockery.

“Ellen Copley, is that your second piece of pie?”