The young men stood up in a body and made their way for the door. Jasper noticed that there were at least seven fewer faces in the lecture hall since the class had last met. He shook his head and began gathering piles of papers from his desk and shoved them into his folder.
“Uncle Jasper,” a voice said. Jasper, startled, dropped everything he had in his hands and then proceeded to clumsily pick them up off the floor. In the process, he noticed a silken skirt brushing the heels of brown kid leather shoes. He looked up. “G-goodness g-gracious, S-Sara S-Stanley.”
“Here, let me help you.”
“Why on earth aren’t you in P-P-Paris?”
“Didn’t Aunt Olivia tell you I was coming?”
Jasper thought a moment. “Sh-she may have. Yes, indeed. I m-must have f-forgotten.”
Sara had gathered Jasper’s papers and was studying the diagrams and formulae on them.
“What are you working on?”
“Oh, my. Th-that is my n-newest project that I’ve been w-working on in my spare time. I’m t-trying to find a way to make a m-m-material that will stop the b-bullet, you see,” Jasper pointed to a series of drawings on another sheet, “from p-penetrating the skin. H-hopefully it will save lives and bring an end to this w-war,” he finished soberly.
“That’s very clever, Uncle Jasper,” Sara said in awe. The two of them began walking out of the lecture hall and toward the door of the building. “I was so glad I caught the last few minutes of your lecture. I must say you are an excellent teacher.”
“I think I have found my c-c-calling, Sara. I find that when I am in fr-front of my students who are interested in the p-pursuit of science that I am able to speak very n-n-n-n-naturally.”
“Oh, watch your step,” Sara warned.
Jasper caught his foot on a misplaced stone and floundered a bit for his balance.
“I’m fine,” he assured Sara. “I’m p-perfectly f-fine.”
* * *
Sara held little Alicia on her lap and played with her. Alicia was prattling happily in her soft, childish voice. “She’s such a darling,” she told Olivia, “she’s so small and sweet. Her face is just like an angel’s.” Sara and Olivia were enjoying a pleasant afternoon tea in the parlour of the Dale’s home.
“Well, we’re awfully glad to have you with us, Sara,” Olivia said, sipping her tea. “I get so lonesome for company, with just the children with me all day.”
“Uncle Jasper isn’t always away is he?”
“Oh, no. He’s home in the evenings. Oh, Sara, he’s just so preoccupied with the war and his work. He practically goes crazy waiting for the paper in the morning. I’m so worried about him and what will happen. I’d take the children back to PEI where it’s safe, but Jasper can’t leave his work and I can’t leave him.”
Sara reached over and squeezed her aunt’s hand. Olivia quickly wiped away the tears that were beginning to form when she heard the parlour door open. Monty entered, holding the hand of an elderly nursemaid. He approached his mother.
“Did you two have fun playing in the park?” Olivia asked.
“He was as good as gold, mum,” the nurse answered proudly. “Such a wee gentleman.”
“Thank you so much for taking him, Audrey,” Olivia said.
“’Twas my pleasure mum.” The nurse turned and left the room.
Monty turned to Sara and offered his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve had the pleasure.” Sara and Olivia laughed, charmed by his precocious gallantry.
“Monty, I don’t think your remember your cousin Sara Stanley. She’s been living in Paris for the past few years.”
“I am very pleased to meet you, Cousin Sara. May I listen to your heart?” he asked, pointing his oversized stethoscope at her.
“Do you really think I’m ill, Dr. Dale?” Sara asked playfully.
“Very,” he replied. “Will you stick out your tongue, please?” Sara did so. “I’m going to be a doctor, you know.”
“I’m sure you’ll make a fine one,” she assured her cousin. “I hear you’re doing well in school.”
“All right, I suppose.”
“Oh, he’s doing much better than all right,” Olivia told her niece proudly. “His teachers say he’s very smart. What about you, Sara? Certainly you’ve done more in Paris than just study.” Sara smiled. “Do you have a beau?” Olivia asked, interested.
“Aunt Olivia!” They both giggled. Sara calmed herself first. “Actually, I’ve written a book.”
“A book! Oh, Sara! That’s terrific! It’s fantastic!”
“You haven’t even read it,” reminded Sara, amused by Olivia’s enthusiasm.
“I’m sure it’s a wonderful book, Sara. I am so proud of you. Are you going to have it published?”
“I have an appointment Thursday afternoon with a publishing house.” Olivia clapped her hands with glee.
* * *
“I only read the first three chapters of your novel, Miss Stanley,” Mr. Starkworth told Sara as he stood over her. Sara was seated in an oversized leather chair in Starkworth’s office. It reeked of cigar smoke, brandy, and cheap perfume. Sara had been told by one of her professors at L’ecole that the publishing house was one of the best in England. Mr. Starkworth continued. “One of the under-editors recommended it to me but I was not able to finish it. I cannot possibly publish it.”
“Well, tell me what’s wrong with it and I’ll change it. I want to learn…”
He cut her off. “I’m afraid you’d have to rewrite the entire book. No one is interested in reading a sentimental fairy tale, Miss Stanley.”
“It’s not a fairy tale, sir. Nor is it sentimental. I wrote it with genuine feeling…”
Starkworth cut her off again. “Yes, yes. Every writer feels compelled to defend his or her work. Tell you what, I think you might have some success in the area of children’s literature.”
“Children’s literature?” Sara repeated slowly.
“Yes, I can give you the name of Frances Hodgson Burnett’s publisher. Perhaps, with some alterations, your little story could become the next Little Lord Fauntleroy.”
* * *
“Little Lord Fauntleroy,” Sara repeated contemptuously. Olivia and Jasper sat across the tea table from her.
“Oh, Sara. He’s making a big mistake not publishing your book,” Olivia said. “Why, I liked it. I read it to Jasper and he liked it too.” Olivia glanced significantly at her husband, who was buried in a newspaper.
Jasper’s face appeared from behind the paper. “Oh, oh y-y-y-yes. V-very en-en-end-dearing and t-t-t-ouching. Good show, Sara.” He resumed reading.
“I can’t believe he didn’t want to publish it,” Olivia continued vehemently. “Why, that man’s an idiot, isn’t he, Jasper?”
“Oh, oh, yes.” The newspaper responded. Jasper’s face appeared once more. “Very d-d-dull-witted.” He absorbed himself in the newspaper again.
“Don’t get discouraged, Sara. I know you’ll find a publisher. Maybe when you go back to Canada you’ll find someone who wants to publish it. Maybe Hetty could give you the name of her publisher. You know that My Home Is the Island was a big success for them. Have you written to Hetty? I know she’s lonesome for you.”
“No I...” Sara paused. “I’ve been thinking about not going back to Avonlea.”
“Not going back?” Olivia asked, shocked. At the same moment, Jasper emerged from behind the newspaper without prompting from his wife.
“I wouldn’t expect to stay here with you, of course. I could find an apartment in London and--”
“Sara!” Olivia gasped. “Monty, why don’t you go into the nursery and play with your science set?” she requested.
“So you can talk about grown-up stuff? All right, Mummy.”
“Why, Sara, Avonlea’s your home. It’s where you belong,” Olivia persisted after Monty had gone.
“Why does everyone seem to think that?”
Olivia smiled sympathetically at her niece. “I know when Jasper and I first came to England, it was frightening at first, not knowing anyone or what would happen. Then when I went back for Christmas, I found that I’d changed in so many ways. But I also found that there was a part of me that belonged to Avonlea.”
Sara listened to her aunt’s advice thoughtfully. “But there were so many things I saw in Paris in that hospital. How can I possibly belong there now? I just think it would hurt too much to go back.”
“Avonlea is still in your heart, Sara. You just have to want it to be there.”
Close this window to return to the index