Down Jasper Lane (Amherst Island Trilogy)

Jed laughed and twirled her round. “So have you,” he said, leaving Ellen breathless. “A little.”

And that, Ellen supposed, was the closest Jed Lyman would ever get to paying her a compliment.

The party lasted well into evening, with the moon high and yellow in the sky, and the crickets chirping a loud evening chorus. The bride and groom were finally run off with many cheers and bawdy jokes, and the McCaffertys began to pile into the wagon, Andrew asleep in Rose’s arms, and Ruthie trying to stay awake as she leaned heavily against Ellen’s shoulder.

“That was wonderful,” Louisa said to Ellen as they began the bumpy ride back to Jasper Lane. A silk ribbon had fallen from her hair and she twisted it dreamily through her fingers, her expression distant. “I reckon I could make him fall in love with me.”

Ellen, still lost in her own memory of a certain dance, barely registered Louisa’s words. “Who are you talking about?”

Louisa’s smile was that of a cat, smugly contented, whiskers dipped in cream. “Why, Jed, of course.”

Ellen felt as if her stomach, or maybe her heart, had been suddenly plunged in ice. “I can’t imagine Jed in love with anyone,” she said, and Louisa chuckled.

“I can. I’d almost think you were jealous, Ellen, but you can’t be, not with the way Lucas makes calf eyes at you.”

“Lucas?” Ellen shook her head. “Good gracious, Louisa, you see stars in everyone’s eyes! I’m not even fifteen yet, after all. I don’t want to fall in love with anyone.”

“I turned fifteen in April,” Louisa replied. “And you can go ahead suit yourself, Ellen Copley. So will I.” She leaned back against the wagon, still smiling smugly, and Ellen felt a chill of foreboding that wiped away any pleasant memories of the night they’d just all enjoyed.

ELEVEN

Two weeks after the wedding Maeve Lyman slipped quietly from this world. Nearly half the island came to the little cemetery at St Paul’s on a rainy day in August to pay their respects to Maeve and show their loyalty to the Lyman family. Ellen’s heart ached at the sight of Lucas and Jed standing so tall and straight by their father, looking like the men they were fast becoming.

As the minister spoke of victory in death Ellen wondered if she should pray. Her prayers had remained vague and intermittent, cast up towards God with a rather dubious air. Yet now, looking at Jed and Lucas, she felt a deep need for God to do something, or at least for her to tell Him.

Please God. Help them.

As tears stung her eyes, she knew that was all she could manage.

Early that evening Rose sent her over to the Lyman farm with a raspberry pie, two pint jars of strawberry jam and a pot of beef stew. Her arms ached from carrying it all, and yet as she stepped onto the back porch her burden was forgotten for through the window she saw Jed sitting at the kitchen table, his shoulders bowed, his head in his hands, his fingers driven through his hair. His moment of grief felt intensely private, too private for Ellen to interrupt and she wondered if she should just leave the food outside the door.

She took a cautious step forward and one of the floorboards creaked. Jed looked up, and his gaze arrowed right in on Ellen. She froze, all thoughts flying from her head. Then Jed rose from the table, impatiently rubbing at one eye with the heel of his hand.

“You’d better come in, Ellen Copley, with all that.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispered, and Jed just shrugged as he took the basket of food from her.

“This is very kind of you,” he said, dutifully, and now Ellen was the one to shrug.

“It’s not much, and Rose made most of it anyway.”

“Still.” He unpacked the basket, putting the items in the pantry.

“Where is everybody?” Ellen asked. The farmhouse seemed very dark and quiet.

“Pa’s in the barn, seeing to the animals. Who knows where Lucas is.”

Even though he spoke neutrally enough, Ellen still detected contempt in Jed’s voice, a tone she had long become familiar with from both the Lyman boys.

“Everyone grieves in their own way,” she said, and Jed let out a short, sharp laugh.

“That so? I suppose you’re right.”

“I only meant...” She swallowed. “Now that your mam’s gone you all need to stick together, Jed. Get along better than you ever did before.”

His eyes narrowed. “Thank you kindly for your advice.”

“I’m speaking from experience,” Ellen said quietly. “I know after my mam died my da and I didn’t stick together. Looking back I wonder if I could have done things differently.” Her throat ached with the effort of her words, yet despite Jed’s closed expression she forced herself to continue. “And he lit out for New Mexico just a couple of months later. I haven’t seen him since.”