Down Jasper Lane (Amherst Island Trilogy)
“You’ll like Seaton,” he said, and Ellen regarded him seriously.
“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I will.”
Hamish tipped his hat to most everyone in Seaton, murmuring his greetings. Douglas and Ellen stared and nodded, and Hamish tried to imagine the village through their eyes.
&
nbsp; Twenty years ago Seaton had been little more than a few shabby farmhouses built by a creek. Then one of the big manufacturers had built a mill, and another company had discovered a quarry. People came for the work, and then they began building. First houses, then a doctor’s surgery, a blacksmith, a church and even a school. The rail line was extended, and the Copleys built their general store.
Now Seaton bustled with folk. On the corner across from the store was the unlikely combination of a barber and ice cream parlor. The blacksmith had even started selling bicycles. And there was talk of streetlights coming one day, at least to the main street.
“Here we are,” Hamish announced. The Copleys’ house wasn’t too grand, because Ruth said it wasn’t Christian to be showy. Still, Hamish thought it was nice enough, with its wide front porch and two rows of double windows, set back a bit from the general store on the corner of Main Street. On the other side of the house the street turned into a country road that joined up with the main road to Rutland, with no more than a few farmhouses along the way.
“You head on in,” he continued. “I’ll just put the wagon away. Poor old Polly needs her oats.”
When Hamish rejoined his brother and niece in the sitting room, they were both standing, Douglas with his hat twisted in his hands, gawping at the room as if it were Buckingham Palace.
“You’ve done well for yourself, Hamish, and that’s a fact.” There was no rancor or jealousy in Douglas’ voice, merely awe. Hamish blushed and fidgeted.
“Ruth made lemonade earlier. She thought you’d be thirsty, from the train.”
“Lemonade!” Ellen whispered in amazement, and Hamish felt another prickling of discomfort.
“I’ll go fetch it.” He hurried to the kitchen, and Ellen followed him. She watched from the doorway as he took a pitcher from the icebox.
“Is that an icebox?” she asked. “A real one?”
“Yes. We have ice delivered every day.” He paused uncertainly. “Almost everyone in Seaton has an icebox, you know.”
Ellen didn’t say anything for a moment. Hamish was unnerved by her clear, comprehending stare. “I see,” she said quietly, after a moment, and went and fetched three glasses from the cupboard.
Hamish watched as she moved about the kitchen, first looking for the cupboard with glasses, then putting them on the table. This girl surprised him, he realized, because she wasn’t like the little girls he knew, the girls with plaits and pinafores who came into the store for hair ribbons and sweets, giggling all the way.
“I’m sorry about your mother,” Hamish said, realizing he should have mentioned Ann before.
“Thank you,” Ellen said simply, and together they walked back to the sitting room.
The lemonade was cool and sweet and Hamish drained his glass in one gulp. He sat, twisting the cool, empty glass between his sweaty palms while both Douglas and Ellen drank theirs slowly, as if savoring every tiny sip.
“I’ll show you the store, afterwards,” he said. “And your rooms of course. Ruth got them all ready.” There was a brief, charged moment of silence, or so it seemed to Hamish, so he kept talking. “She’ll be back any moment, I expect. Couldn’t wait to see you, really she couldn’t.” Realizing he was talking too much, Hamish smiled shamefacedly and stood up. “I’ll take your bags upstairs.”
Before he could move any further, the front door opened, and sunlight slanted through on the floor of polished oak floorboards. Hamish looked up to see Ruth, and smiled in relief. Ruth would know what to do.
“Ah, here she is. Ruth, come see my brother and his daughter. We’re so glad to have them, aren’t we?”
Ruth eyed him coolly for one moment before moving into the room to meet her relatives.
*****
Ellen’s mouth seemed dry, even though she’d just taken a sip of the cold, sweet lemonade. She wasn’t sure why she was nervous to meet her Aunt Ruth. Perhaps it was because of the way Uncle Hamish spoke of her, in that timid way. Almost as if she were somebody to be afraid of. Maybe it was just because everything was so strange and new here—even the wood to build the houses smelled new. Nothing old or grimy or covered in coal dust. Ellen thought she’d like it all being so nice and shiny, but it just made her feel like the dirty one.
Ruth moved into the room, her skirts sweeping the floor. She was tall, with graying blond hair swept up into one of the new, loose styles. She wore a simple but well-made dress of blue chambray, with leg o’mutton sleeves and shiny black buttons. Ellen thought it was the most elegant dress she’d ever seen. Over the dress Ruth wore a clean, starched apron trimmed with lace. Ellen had never seen such sparkling white cotton.
“Well, here you are.” Ruth moved to Douglas and shook his hand. Douglas returned the handshake with a deferential awkwardness Ellen didn’t recognize. Da had always been his own man, confident in himself, yet since they’d stepped foot in this palace he seemed like someone else entirely, apologetic and overwhelmed. Ellen realized she felt the same way... as if she didn’t belong, and didn’t know if she ever would. After the hope she’d felt on the steamer and then the train, she didn’t like feeling so wrong-footed. She didn’t want her dream to be spoiled.
“It’s good to see you, Ruth,” Douglas said. “Been a long time, then.”
“So it has.” Ruth did not sound particularly regretful of that fact. She moved to stand in front of Ellen, examining her as thoroughly as the customs officer had on Ellis Island. Ellen looked up at her, deciding to do a fair examination of her own. Her aunt’s face was handsome rather than pretty, with strong lines and light blue eyes, but when she smiled Ellen felt a little spasm of relief. She’d needed that smile. Ruth reached down to press her cool cheek against Ellen’s, and she breathed in the clean scent of talcum powder.