"I'll help," Cecily said with as much indignation as Cecily could feel.
Sara banged a saucer down on the table. "The old battle-axe!"
"Sara, dear, please don't break Great-Grandmother Ward's china."
"Sorry," she said, gently placing a teacup on top of the saucer. "However, I think it went well, I really do," Sara added as she poured a cup of tea for Felicity.
"I appreciate the confidence, Sara," Felicity said dejectedly. She smiled weakly.
"At least you got your message out," Cecily added. "I think people will get behind you. More than they will behind Mrs. Potts, anyway."
"Daniel, dear," Janet began. "I think it's time you were getting ready for bed."
"Aw, but Mother--"
"Off to bed, Daniel," Janet insisted. "You're lucky your father and I even allowed you to come this evening after you've been scrapping at school."
"But it wasn't my--" Daniel began to protest.
"I wouldn't have allowed you at all," Janet continued, "if it hadn't been for Cecily insisting."
"I've seen them, Mother. I told you. It's nothing serious--just the way boys act," Cecily put in.
"Not my boys," Janet said shortly and continued with her knitting.
Soon, they heard the sounds of buggies approaching. "I think that's Father and Aunt Hetty," Cecily said.
A few moments later, the summer kitchen door opened and Hetty and Alec appeared, with Davey and Rachel following.
"Well, this is a fine kettle of fish, Felicity Pike," Hetty said. "Ya've gone and gotten half of Avonlea all in uproar. But, ya know we're all behind ya, child," she added, patting Felicity on the shoulder.
Alec was rubbing his hands together. "I think we'd better get cracking on a plan to get Avonlea one-hundred percent behind Felicity and Gus," he said.
"Ah! To be sure, Alec," said Hetty. "To be sure."
Felicity looked from Alec to Hetty. "Really," she said. "It's not necessary for you to help us. Please. Gus and I--"
"Need to come up with eight thousand dollars," Hetty interrupted. "And smartly, too."
Everyone was quiet for a moment. Then, Cecily spoke, vocalizing something she'd been feeling for a long time. "If only Felix--He'd come up with a scheme lickety-split."
Sara met Cecily's eyes in agreement. Then, she looked up, her eyes bright. "Wait a minute!" she exclaimed. "Aunt Janet--Aunt Janet!" she exclaimed, racing over to her aunt by the fireplace. "The party! At the White Sands. It could be a benefit for the school!"
Everyone in the room started talking all at once. "That's it, Sara Stanley!" Hetty exclaimed. "That is it!"
"Brilliant, Sara!" Cecily said. "But don't they already want to support the hospital or something like that?"
"Oh, you saw them! It'd be as easy as a wink to get them to make the party a benefit," Sara replied. "Cecily, you and I can go canvassing!"
"I'll help," Davey put in. "You know I will."
Felicity, on the other hand, was very quiet. "Please," she said. "I don't want there to be any fuss. I've said it before and I'll say it again: Gus and I can do this ourselves. Don't you have any faith in us?" Felicity looked around the room, a hurt expression on her face.
"Of course we have faith in ya, child," Hetty said. "But it was a rash thing ya did, telling Clara Potts you could come up with that much money."
"We just want to help you succeed, Felicity," Alec said. "That's all. We're not trying to--to interfere with you and Gus."
"Yes, yes, Alec," Hetty agreed.
Janet joined in. "And we'd all like to see you hand that money over to Clara Potts and give her her comeuppance for once and for all," she said vehemently, ripping a flawed stitch out of her knitting.
"Yes, you're all very kind. Gus and I made a vow that we would do this on our own. Aunt Hetty, aren't you the one who always told me that nothing was impossible if I put my head to it? Now, please. I've had a very tiring evening. I would just like to go home and rest. I'll telephone Gus in the morning to see what he says. Good night, everyone."
"I'll drive you girls to town," Davey volunteered. Cecily and Felicity made motions to leave.
Sara's mouth remained set. "She can't do this alone!" she exclaimed after Felicity and Cecily had gone.
That Felicity, Sara thought as she and Hetty rode back to Rose Cottage. Stubborn mule; she's always been like that. Cecily's right. If only...if only Felix were well. I bet we could make the party a huge success and convince everyone to come. I know we could get them behind Felicity. I just know it!
* * * * *
The next morning, Felicity woke up and resolved what she must do over breakfast. She dressed in her most becoming maternity frock, placed her Sunday hat on her head, and walked out the door, being very quiet to as to not wake Cecily.
* * * * *
When Sara woke up, it was late. Rose Cottage was quiet and still. The sun was gleaming through the curtains as it had on her first morning home. She arose and went to the window to open it. It was going to be another beautiful spring day. She could see that Aunt Hetty's daffodils were beginning to bloom. Hetty's crocuses were already a riot of purple, gold and blue and they waved cheerily at Sara in the wind.
Downstairs, Sara found a note from Hetty, saying that since she hadn't been up, she hadn't made any porridge for her, which was no loss as far as Sara was concerned. She remembered all too well the bowls of lumpy, grey porridge she'd had to swallow in Hetty's attempts to "put meat on her bones." The note also said that there were muffins in the oven and she could make herself a pot of tea. Looking at the kitchen clock, she saw it was nearly nine-thirty.
Sara put her teacup down. In that case, it was probably a good time to head over to King Farm.
Upstairs, Sara selected a pale blue cotton dress and put up her hair in the low, face-framing knot that complimented her small face.
* * * * *
Sara knocked on the door of King Farm. To her surprise, Cecily answered the door. "Cess!" she said.
"Good morning, Sara," Cecily said in a laughing voice. "Mother has gone to town and she took Daniel and Aunt Eliza," she told her cousin as she ushered her in. "I came out early to help with the chores. Felicity'd already gone off somewhere when I woke up. Want some tea?"
"Yes," Sara replied."Actually," she began, "I need you to do something for me that you may not want to do."
* * * * *
"I'm sorry, Sara," Cecily began as she approached Felix's door with Sara in tow. "I suppose I should have warned you before I agreed to this. I didn't know how to say it. None of us did. I'm sorry."
"What do you mean?"
"Felix is...well...he's--he's different."
"We're all different."
"No, it's not the same with Felix. He's...well, you'd better see for yourself."
"How long has he been like this?"
"Almost since the moment he came home. We can't go near him. We can't talk to him or touch him or--or even look at him sometimes. He started to get better and then...and then it just all started again. All the time, it's the same: 'Leave me alone.' Anyway, you best hurry before everyone gets home. Mother will be furious if she finds out I let you in to see him without her say-so." Cecily paused. "Maybe he'll brighten if he sees you," she said optimistically.
Sara smiled. "Let's hope so."
Felix was standing by his window, watching his father out working near the barn. Davey Keith was with him, industriously helping with the farm work. "I guess I'm pretty useless around here," he said out loud. "I'm pretty useless anywhere," he muttered, his face becoming even more sad, as he was thinking of a girl who was far away from him, and seemed to move ever farther as time passed. She must not be as perfect as he once thought her to be, he reassured himself. Nothing was that perfect--nothing could be. It was all an illusion and he had just been a naïve farm boy. Nobody who had been in the dirt and stink of the trenches could ever believe in that kind of perfection.
Felix moved over to the desk in the corner of the room. He looked at all of the things that he and Andrew had scratched into the desk as boys. They were faded now, but he could still read them. Janet had railed at them, but boys being boys, they kept it up when they were getting along well enough to conspire together. "Andrew King," said one scratch. "World-famous geologist." "Felix King. World's richest man." "Andrew, 1903." "Felix, age eleven, 1905." "Felicity is MEAN." And there was another one, scratched in smaller letters: "Sara Stanley, age twelve. The Story Girl."
He had a piece of paper on the desk. He carefully and deliberately lifted the pen from the inkwell, it wobbled and nearly tipped. In frustration, Felix put the pen back. He had never known the itch to write in his life. He'd only observed it in people like Sara. Otherwise, he would have been able to explain the compulsion to hold a pen in his hand. There was something he wanted to write; something where he could record his feelings. Nothing came. The urge swelled up in him again. Determined, he took the pen and wrote one word, one that wrote itself. "Izzy." His thoughts began drifting far away from Avonlea, in the battlefields of France.
There was a soft knock at the door. Felix turned around and glared at the door. "I'm trying to sleep." The door opened. "Go away!"
Ignoring this, Cecily entered the room. "Felix, I have a surprise for you."
Sara stepped in front of Cecily with a big smile on her face. "Felix," she greeted cheerily.
Felix turned his head and faced her. "Hi, Sara," he said blankly and turned back to the window. Sara's face fell.
Cecily finally broke the silence. "I'll just wait downstairs," she said quietly, knowing that Sara and Felix should be alone.
"Felix?" Sara began hesitatingly.
"Sara," he said blankly.
"Surprise!" she said, trying to sound cheerful. "I'm home."
"Hello," he replied softly and turned his attention toward the window. He wished she'd go away. He slid the paper under a pile of blank ones. The smile quickly left Sara's face.
"Did anyone tell you I was home?" she asked. It was so awkward. How could she feel awkward around Felix?
"No," Felix replied. "Why did you two come in here without my permission anyway?"
"Without your permission?" Sara echoed.
Felix stood up and pointed a finger at Sara. "I told you--"
"You can't lie to me and get away with it, Felix King," Sara said. "Since when did you turn into a fibber?"
"I'm not a fibber. I just want privacy."
"From what I hear, you've had nothing but privacy for months on end. You won't let anyone near you."
"Did they tell you that?"
Sara was a bit taken aback by Felix referring to their family as "they." "Yes, Felix. They did."
"Well, they don't know anything about it."
Sara walked over to Felix's bed and sat on it. "That's because you don't reveal anything to anyone, Felix. Are we all supposed to guess?"
"I'm sorry, Sara. I don't have your talent for making everyone feel sorry for me." Sara raised her eyebrows. "And I don't want to either."
She decided that his insults weren't worth retorts."No one wants to pity you, Felix, although your family does. I do. But you push everyone further and further away. We've always been good friends as well as cousins. I was there too. I know what happened. I know what it's like--"
"No, you don't!"
Sara stood up was standing an inch from Felix in an instant. "I do! I understand everything!"
"How could you ever?"
Sara flew at him. "If you only knew what I saw there--what I did there! If you only knew what I left behind!"
"Did you see your best friend get shot, Sara?"
"You're my best friend! And right now I think that that would hurt less!"
Sara turned from her cousin and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
Cecily was waiting in the hall, her back to the wall and her arms tightly folded against her chest. Sara felt ill. She put a hand to her stomach and another against the wall to steady himself. Then, she drew herself up and marched over to Felix's door.
"Sara, don't go back in there," Cecily warned. But Sara did not heed her warning. She opened the door and marched right in, facing Felix.
"Maybe you think you'll be all right hiding in here for the rest of your life, Felix King. Maybe you think that will make everything go away. Well, hiding isn't the answer!"
"Shut up!"
"Neither is pushing away the people who care about you!"
"Get out!"
"You can tell me to get out as much as you want, Felix King! I'm not shutting up and I'm not getting out! You're rejoining the human race whether you like it or not! And I'm not giving up on you, Felix! You're my best friend and I love you!"
"No! You don't love me! You don't even know who I am anymore! I'm not the same stupid old Felix King--the farm boy who works at the hotel and lives for tips! Don't you understand that?"
"Of course I do! How can you honestly think that your own family wouldn't understand you? And your friends? What about your friends?"
"My friends are dead!"
"Elbert is dead. Elbert. Not all of your friends. And I'm sorry about Elbert; we all are. We all loved Elbert. We all miss him. Please talk to me, Felix."
Felix covered his face with his hands. There was no way she’d understand. There was no way any of them would understand. Here was Sara going on with her life. Hers hadn't been ruined. His had. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," he said. "Please go away."
Sara went to him. She attempted to reach out and touch his hands. He pulled away. "Felix. Felix, don't."
"Go. Away."
"Felix, please don't do this. Please."
"I want you out of my room, Sara. Get out now."
Sara shook her head. "I can't go. I won't leave you like this."
"Well, I'm telling you you have to. Get--out."
Outside, Cecily was waiting by the door. She was so upset, she hadn't heard the front door open and Janet walk in.
"Cecily!" she called from the bottom of the stairs.
"Oh, no!" Cecily groaned.
"Was that Felix's voice I heard?" Janet asked as she climbed up. "Does he want anything? Whatever is the matter?" she asked when she saw her daughter's face.
"Just talk to us! That's all we ask!" came Sara's voice from the other side of the door.
"What's this?" Janet asked furiously. She turned to Cecily. "Who is in there with him? Felix," she called as she opened the door. She stopped when she saw Sara. "Whatever are you doing in here?" she asked her.
"I'm sorry," Cecily said, running in. "It's my fault. I just thought--"
"You," Janet said, turning to her with angry eyes. "You let her in."
"I thought it was a good idea."
"You thought? Sara, go on out of here. You're not supposed to be in here. We've told you to stay out."
"Make them leave," Felix said. "I need to be alone."
"Felix King, the only thing you need is a darn good spanking!" With that, Sara turned on her heel and left the room.
Janet rounded on her daughter. "Cecily, scoot. Out. I'll deal with you when your father comes in." She shooed her out of the room. Before she shut the door, she glanced at Felix. His back was to her and he was once again staring out the window.
As soon as they were gone, Felix felt his breathing increase rapidly. He hadn't known Sara was home. Why hadn't they told him? Then he would have been prepared. They were always doing this, just springing stuff on him. He banged his fist on the windowsill.
He felt an odd sensation. It started in his stomach and rose up, slowly, through his body. He didn't know quite what it was. He stood there for a moment, letting this sensation flood through his body. Then he realized it wasn't really in his body at all. He was feeling this, it was inside him. And he was feeling this, really feeling it.
Couldn't they understand? Couldn't they understand that he'd rather be left alone than have to see the pain in everyone's eyes when they looked at him? Couldn't they just go away and stop reminding him of his old life, the person he used to be? He was so angry, without thinking he lifted his injured arm and banged it on the desk he'd scrawled all over as a child.
"You stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" he shouted at his arm. He noticed something strange about his arm. There were times when he didn't even know it was there, when he couldn't feel it at all. Then there were other times it felt heavy. In his guilt, he pretended it was Elbert that was weighing his arm down, when he'd tried to pull Elbert away from the line of fire. But, this was a new sensation. This--this was pain. His arm hurt, it actually hurt! He'd banged it on the desk and just like it would happen to anyone else, it hurt.
Felix went to his bed and sat curled up, tucking his knees toward his chest. He waited for the pain to go away. It couldn't hurt, it couldn't. The doctor said he would seldom feel pain.
The rising feeling in his body mingled with the pain in his arm and he got up and curled up on his bed, holding his stomach. His stomach didn't hurt, really, more that there was this hurt in there, like a big bubble of something, of sadness, of anger. Like those big bubbles of suds in his mother's washtub. They'd get so big and then--POP!
And as he lay there, he thought about what Sara had said to him. Sara. Sara. Sara who he had to guard against most, which is why they should have told him. Sara who looked into his eyes and through them so much like another pair of eyes he knew.
He felt like he needed to feel that again, to have someone see him. It hurt him so much inside to have anyone near him, anyone touch him, but he needed to see Sara again. That pain he felt when Sara saw him made him feel real and for so long, he felt like he was just existing, like he was just a ghost. Like he was Elbert, like he was dead.
* * * * *
When Janet returned downstairs, she found that Cecily had left. She was angry, angrier than she'd ever been with Cecily in her life. What had that girl been thinking? Janet felt herself shaking, with what at first was anger. As she stood there by the sink, she put her hands over her face and began sobbing. What on earth was she to do? How could they help Felix.
She remembered what Arthur had told her while at the hospital. "Sleeping a lot, not taking an interest in things, spouting off at people. It sounds to me like he has melancholia, Mrs. King. With the proper treatment, he can get better. But, Felix has to realize there's something wrong with him first. Felix isn't alone; there are a lot of boys like him, some in worse shape. I'd help you if I--if I could." At this, Arthur's face had twisted up in frustration. "He's seen an awful lot of hurt and pain, Mrs. King."
* * * * *
"I appreciate you seeing me first this morning, Mr. Hammond," Felicity said to the balding man who sat in his desk opposite her. She was seated in a leather chair in the office of the Avonlea Bank.
"Yes, yes, yes," replied Mr. Hammond in his timid, quiet voice. He was a shorter man, very plump, and had a rather nervous manner. "I expected to get a visit from you, Mrs. Pike. I was at the meeting last night, you know, with my wife, Mrs. Gloria Hammond." He puffed out his chest and his face flushed. Apparently, Mrs. Gloria Hammond was of high society, or so Mr. Hammond seemed to think.
"Yes," Felicity replied stiffly, as she was trying not to laugh. "What I've come to speak with you about, Mr. Hammond, is business."
"Yes, yes, yes," he said again. "Continue, continue."
"Well, since you were at the meeting, you know my situation." Mr. Hammond gave a quick, little nod that rather reminded Felicity of hens pecking at the ground during a feeding. "I need...Well, that is, I'd like to borrow...well, I need to borrow six thousand dollars--the difference after I sell my home--from the bank. I need a loan."
Mr. Hammond made some more pecking motions with his head. "Yes, yes, yes, yes," he was muttering to himself. "Yes, yes, yes."
His face suddenly became very grim. He looked directly, not nervously, at Felicity. "And, Mrs. Pike, what would you offer for collateral should you be unable to repay?"
"Well..." Felicity trailed off.
"As it stands, you do own your home. However, you are planning to sell it, correct? That would put it out of your possession. Do you own anything? Do you and your husband have any assets at all?"
"No," Felicity was forced to choke out. For, it was the truth. "But, we are good for it. Honestly. Just ask anyone in Avonlea."
Mr. Hammond's forehead suddenly furrowed. "What is it that your husband does for a living, Mrs. Pike?"
"He's in the service, sir," Felicity said proudly. "Well, he works for the Naval Telegraphy Office in Halifax. He's not exactly in the service because--"
"He's blind," Mr. Hammond interrupted. "I'm well aware of that fact."
Insulted, Felicity began to feel angry with Mr. Hammond. But, she knew she couldn't blow up at him."
Mr. Hammond blew some air through his lip. "You're one of those Kings, aren't you?"
"Yes, I was a King before my marriage."
"Yes, yes, yes," Mr. Hammond said again.
"Mr. Hammond, sir, I know our two families have never...never gotten very well acquainted. But, I'm certain that that will not affect your decision-making?"
"I do not hold grudges in my business dealings, Mrs. Pike. However, I must say that your family--your Aunt Hetty and your sister Cecily in particular--could afford to be a bit more cordial to my wife, Mrs. Gloria Hammond and my little Gwennie."
"I apologize if anyone in my family has caused you offence, sir," Felicity said as politely as she could.
He grunted. "I was curious about your relations to see if any of them had collateral they could put up. They're quite well-off, or so I hear. And your cousin is the Stanley heiress, is she not? Why not ask them for the money? If they won't support you in your dealings, why should you ask the same of the Avonlea Bank?"
"They do support me, sir," Felicity said, her temper rising. "I am unwilling to ask them because my husband and I wish to be independent."
"A fine wish," Mr. Hammond said. "It would be even finer had you the means to make it a reality. I'm sorry, Mrs. Pike, but without collateral, I cannot approve a loan for you, especially one of such a large sum."
* * * * *
Dejected, Felicity slowly left the Avonlea Bank and walked out onto the main road to return to her home. Although it was early, the ladies and gentlemen of the town were making their way in, many of them heading for the general store.
Felicity walked with her eyes straight in front of her. She knew she was the subject of curious glances and whispers. She saw Clara Potts approaching her. Fortunately, it was at this moment that the morning coach from the Carmody station arrived. It stopped between Felicity and Mrs. Potts and Felicity, making certain she walked around the coach's left side, was spared speaking to her. As she passed the stagecoach, she saw Gourney MacDonald and Mabel Sloane join up with Mrs. Stuart and her daughter, Prissie. She overheard them speaking about her, not bothering to lower their voices.
"Do you really think the Pikes have all that money?" Prissie asked.
"I dunno," Gourney responded. "I did hear tell of Captain Crane finding pirate gold some years back."
"Oh, that old tale!" said Mrs. Sloane dismissively.
"Well, is it a tale?" Gourney asked. "Gus was a man of all work for Captain Crane. Maybe he gave him a wee sum in exchange for doing his bidding."
"Who knows?" Mrs. Stuart asked. "Captain Crane lit out a long time ago."
"Under very mysterious circumstances," Gourney reminded her. "He could have found pirate gold and taken off. That ruby ring Felicity always wears: no boy keepin' a light and workin' as a waiter at a hotel would be able to afford that. I've seen smaller jewels on many a rich lady. Maybe the Captain even has died by now. If that's the case, I don't think he has any relatives to speak of. He could have left the fortune to Gus."
Felicity heard Clara Potts join the conversation. "Then why on earth have Felicity and Gus been living like near paupers all these years? Honestly, Gourney!"
"Maybe they didn't want anybody to know. Maybe they were saving it for such a rainy day."
"Buried treasure? Secrets?" scoffed Clara. "You can think as you like, Gourney MacDonald, but if Felicity and Gus have that money, it hasn't ever been buried underground--more like locked up in a bank vault in Montreal. My bets are on Sara Stanley--she's giving them that money!"
Hot tears of anger were swelling up in Felicity's eyes as she reached the door. Upset, she fumbled with the door and finally opened it, shutting it tight behind her. In a way, as she thought about it, she had to laugh. Buried treasure. It was rightfully Captain Crane's, and Gus and she would never touch a cent of it. The last they had heard, the Captain was in California with Gus's mother, Eliza, whom the Captain had been able to marry at last. She was being treated at a hotel and health resort there, Felicity couldn't remember the name. It was a large and very expensive-looking one, with a Spanish tile roof and bright white paint. The treasure was being put to good use, and Eliza had improved significantly. Avonlea had always held too many bad memories for Eliza, but she had written that she hoped to come for a visit when the baby was born. Gus often spoke of going to visit them when the war was over.
Looking down at her hand, she saw the ruby ring flashing in the early morning light. How much was that ring worth? She'd never considered it. Then she righted herself. Felicity Pike, she told herself. You ought to be ashamed of yourself.
Felicity looked over at the pile of papers on her desk. She scolded herself for being so disorganized. She saw that she even had unopened mail. A wave of fatigue swept over her and she decided to have a rest in the conservatory, where she could be surrounded by the sweet-smelling plants that had been brought over when they moved in. Once there, she settled herself into a chair and closed her eyes. She was so very tired. Perhaps, she thought, when Gus came home, they would find a way. He had been delayed once again and she wasn't expecting his arrival anytime soon. End of May at the latest, he had written. He'd explained to his superior that his wife was expecting and he needed to be home.
The commander laughed and said, "Lad, you're not the only serviceman whose lady'll be presenting him with swaddling clothes. Have patience."How can I be patient, Felicity, when I think of you all alone in Avonlea? Yes, I know your family's around, but you sound so alone in your letters. I want to come home, my Felicity, and I'm ready to swim to Avonlea just to see your beautiful face.
Felicity felt herself drifting off, remembering the words of Gus's letter, which she'd read so many times she'd learned it by heart.
Tell Sara I'm anxious to see her. I bet she's giving those Avonlea ladies an opportunity for a tongue-wagging, coming home from Paris all high and handsome. And don't you worry. If there's anybody who can bring Felix around, it's that cousin of yours. Of course, there's another particular young lady who'd do him a bit of good and unless I'm much mistaken, she's missing him something terrible. Izzy has come to see me off and on. She don't make much mention of Felix and she used to talk about him all the time. There's a sadness in her eyes now. A real sadness.
Poor Izzy, Felicity had thought and she thought again. Her eyelids were even heavier now, and she felt the warmth of sleep coursing through her body.
Unless you've already made up your stubborn mind, I'd like Alexander for a boy. It's after your father and I feel I owe it to him for being so good to me and for letting me marry you. Henry is my second choice if it's a boy, after Miss King. I have to say I'm not too keen on Henrietta for a girl. Oh, it suits your aunt because it's plain and sensible. I know we talked about Eliza, but ma says the girl would be destined for a sad life. I can't see that, seeing who she'd have for a mother, but those are her wishes and I want to abide by her. Alexandra's a name I'm keen on, after your dad of course.I miss you, my love, and I need to be near you. I love you. Soon, we'll all be together. You and me and our child.
With love and affection,
Gus Pike
Naval Telegraphy Office
Royal Canadian Navy
Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada
Perhaps everything will seem easier when Gus returns. We will see how things go. Perhaps we can work something out regarding the school. I must meet with Mrs. Cadbury in Halifax. I must see what can be done. I must. I must...
She was fast asleep.
* * * * *
Nearly blinded by tears, Sara had gone home to Rose Cottage after the fiasco that morning. She could just imagine how Cecily was feeling and thought perhaps she ought to go look for her. No, she remembered. Cecily always went to one of two places when she was upset: the shores of Pine Lake, reading a book; or the cliffs overlooking the sea by the lighthouse. Sara thought it best not to disturb her.
Sara was tinkering on the piano--her mother's piano. It was a song she'd heard before, but picked up a copy of in France, Plaisir d'amour. She knew it almost off by heart, but kept playing it. Suddenly, she slammed her hands down hard on the keys.
Felix was just wasting away in his room. That was all, just wasting away. And hadn't Cecily told her that he wasn't even speaking to Izzy? For quite a few moments, Sara had very little sympathy for her cousin. If he was so ungentlemanly as to drop Izzy Pettibone, then he wasn't worthy of her, that was all. And, she thought savagely, if he was going to terrorize his family... As she was wont to do when she was angry, Sara went up stairs and got her writing satchel. Then, came down into the parlour and sat on the sofa. With her book propped on her knees, she began to write and write. Everything else was of no consequence as she drifted into the past.
* * * * *
"Stay close to me, Sara," Nanny Louisa commanded. The little girl was looking eagerly about her. There were dozens of people about, most of them native Indians. Many wore bright clothing and Sara was fascinated by their striking appearance. "We must walk to the city to wait for your father's hired auto car."
"Oh, but couldn't we walk all the way to father's bungalow?" Sara asked, her eyes wide.
"I should say not," Louisa replied firmly. "Goodness, it's hot."
Sara walked ahead of her. "Slow down, child. I'll never keep up with you in this heat." Louisa was especially anxious to keep up with Sara after the elephant affair earlier.
"But there's so much to see," Sara called back.
She walked along, always slightly ahead of Louisa, wanting to drag her to every fascinating market stall and inside every dark, cool building. Sara loved to listen to the strange, almost otherworldly music that was being played from several corners of the market. British soldiers patrolled the area, looking stony and silent. Sara knew there was a war somewhere far away and she thought they were thinking about having to go to it. It was something about people who were bores. She didn't have any idea why anyone would want to fight over people who bored you.
Finally, they came to a gorgeous building; an ancient one, made out of bright white stone and decorated with gold. People were going in and out of it; most of them were natives. She noticed many of them took their shoes off as they entered. It seemed a quiet, calming place.
"Is that a palace?" asked Sara. She looked up. There were several outdoor balconies and on one, she could see a tall, dark-haired boy. He was looking down at her as well.
"That's no palace, Sara Stanley," Louisa said. "It's an ungodly temple."
"A temple," Sara repeated fascinated.
Small Sara inhaled deeply. The fragrance of jasmine and a heady incense was pouring out of the temple. She looked up at the boy again. It was too far away to see what he looked like, but he was just a young boy, perhaps ten or eleven. What struck Sara about him is that he was dressed just like any other little boy in Canada or England. He wasn't a native Indian, either. He was a little Canadian or British boy. Golly, thought Sara. I wish I could go around in temples by myself like boys get to. Then, as Sara looked at him, he did a strange thing. He clasped his hands in front of him like he was praying and slowly lowered himself from his middle to a low bow.
Sara stood fascinated for a moment. "Nanny," she said, pointing. "What's that boy doing?"
Louisa looked up. "He's turning heathen, that's what he's doing."
Then the boy stood upright and, even from the distance between them, Sara could see that he smiled at her.
* * * * *
Felicity's eyes opened quite quickly. Yes, she had fallen asleep. And that knock at the door. She'd dreamed that Gus was knocking. But, the knock came again, and this time she was wide awake. Yes, that was a knock and it sounded very much like Sara's short, light, rap. Felicity thought she could use a visitor and she rose as quickly as possible.
"Yes, I'm coming," she called. In the hallway, she looked in the mirror and righted her hair and smoothed her frock. "Just a moment, Sara!"
As she approached the door, she could see the outline of a female figure through the sheer muslin door curtain. It wasn't Sara, for the figure outside was simply too tall. She opened the door. "Hello," she said.
The woman standing on her porch was definitely not Sara, nor was she anyone Felicity knew. She was a bit taller than Felicity and very beautiful. Her rich, glossy brown hair was pulled away from her face in a simple knot. Her face was a perfect oval, slightly tinged on the cheeks with red. She had blue eyes, exactly the same shade as Sara's, and they were lined by long eyelashes the same shade as her hair. Perhaps the only thing that wasn't beautiful about this woman was the way she was dressed. Her hat was old and hadn't been stunning when new. Her dress and overcoat were of a dark, coarse grey material and the shape was distinctly not flattering.
"Mrs. Pike?" she inquired in a voice slightly accented with French.
"Yes?" Felicity asked tremulously. What did she want--was Gus--?
"Mrs. Pike, I am Miss Sophie-Marie Giroux." She eagerly held out her hand. Felicity must have looked puzzled while shaking her hand, because in the next breath, Miss Giroux repeated her introduction. "Miss Giroux. You have been expecting me?"
Felicity was at a loss. She certainly didn't want to be rude to the woman.
"You received my letter, certainly?" Miss Giroux asked. "I told you I was not sure when I could be coming, but it so happened that I was able to leave Boston and come to you sooner than I had expected." She paused a moment. "You are Mrs. Felicity Pike, are you not? I arrived in town on the train just this morning and am staying with Mrs. Biggins. I asked her where I might find the Pikes and she pointed me here. If you aren't Mrs. Pike, I am sorry to trouble you and I'll be on my way. Of course, I will need to ask you where Mrs. Felicity Pike lives because I'm afraid Mrs. Biggins does not know. You are some relation of hers?"
"I am Mrs. Felicity Pike, but I'm afraid I didn't get your letter." Felicity thought of the pile of unopened mail on her desk. "Forgive me. What exactly did the letter say?"
"Mostly what I have just told you--that I am Miss Sophie-Marie Giroux. I was sent to you by Miss Sullivan," she paused, taking in the shocked expression on Felicity's face. "I am here to help you open your school."
* * * * *
"Do forgive me for not been aware that you were coming, Miss Giroux," Felicity told her as she handed her some tea. "I'm afraid things have been a bit hectic. Would you care for some lemon or cream?"
"No, please don't trouble yourself, Mrs. Pike. I am used to being on my own. I'll serve myself if you wouldn't think it impolite."
"Please," Felicity urged, taken in by Miss Giroux's frank nature.
"And you'll please call me Sophie, won't you? Since we'll be working together, I feel it's best to feel friendly with one another."
Felicity smiled. "Of course. And you must call me Felicity. I must ask you, what got you interested in teaching the deaf?"
"My parents are both deaf. Oh, don't look so surprised, Mrs. Pike. My childhood was not normal, certainly, but it was interesting. It is what inspired my passion to work with deaf students. I've been able to sign since I was a child, so I am quite fluent in communicating with the deaf. Now, where exactly is this school of yours?"
Felicity sighed. "That's just the trouble." She related to Sophie the problems she had been having since last Christmas up until her meeting with Mr. Hammond that morning.
"I see," Sophie said, slowly putting her teacup down as Felicity finished.
"If you wish to return to Boston, I wouldn't blame you. I'm just sorry you had to come all this way for nothing."
Sophie began to laugh a bit. She took in Felicity's puzzled expression. "Oh, you must forgive me, Mrs. Pike. I'm not laughing at you. And I have no intention of going back to Boston. Miss Sullivan told me I should find a challenge here and I think that's why I she sent me. Tell me, is there no way we can acquire financial assistance."
"Well, you see Miss Giroux--Sophie. I am reluctant to ask for monetary help from my family or the people of Avonlea. You see, I don't want people to think that my husband and I are living on charity."
"I understand, Felicity. But, I think you are aware of the costs?" Felicity nodded. "Then, I think perhaps it would be best if you and I went to speak with the Avonlea church women, the Foxes, or even this lawyer you mentioned."
"Mr. Simpkin," Felicity offered.
"Yes. It's obvious from what you've told me that the Foxes simply don't want the property. Perhaps we could induce them to sell the property directly to you. They don't want it. I think they could be induced to selling for less. Well, what do you think, Felicity? Shall we work together or no?"
Felicity smiled and held out her hand. "We shall."
* * * * *
A flustered Hetty King entered Rose Cottage and unpinned her hat. She straightened her immaculate skirt and opened the parlour door. There, she saw Sara lying unconscious on the couch. The pages of her book were scattered on the floor where they'd fallen. Hetty flew to her.
"Sara!" she exclaimed, prodding her niece. "Oh, my goodness, Sara."
Sara opened her eyes. "Nan--Aunt--Aunt Hetty?"
"What happened, child?" Hetty asked as she gathered Sara in her arms and held her up.
"I f-fell--I fell asleep."
"Oh," said Hetty, sounding much relieved. "Heavens to Molly, child, I thought ya'd fainted. Of course, you're certainly all right."
"No--I mean, yes. I'm fine. What time is it?"
"It's nearing four o'clock."
"Oh, I don't have tea--" Sara started to get up.
"No, no, no ya don't, Sara. I've just come from school myself. I would have been earlier, but I had to break up a fight between our Daniel and that Jacob Pye. I'm on my way over to Janet's to have a word with her about the boy."
"Daniel or Jacob Pye," Sara, now awake, asked slyly, knowing full well who the instigator had been.
Hetty looked at her quizzically. "Daniel, of course," Sara snorted under her breath.
Hetty, not hearing it, acted concerned. She put a hand on Sara's forehead. "Are ya sure you're not feverish, child?" she fretted. "Oh, I'll never forgive myself for letting ya traipse over there if you've brought back some foreign disease. Oh, those hospitals are full of germs. Ya could have brought something back with ya and not know it. I think ya ought to have Arthur have a look at ya whilst we're in Charlottetown. Or have Dr. Snow."
"Aunt Hetty, I'm fine. Really. I was just tired."
"Well, ah, in that case," Hetty began, not sounding entirely convinced. "I'd best be on my way over to Janet's."
"Could I come with you?" Sara asked eagerly. She thought perhaps Daniel might need someone to stick up for him because it wasn't likely that Cecily was at home. In any case, Sara didn't want to fall back asleep and dream about India. She couldn't quite put her finger on it, but it was troubling her for some reason. There was something about her dreams that were threatening to lift a veil and show her--she didn't know what. And, she wasn't certain whether she wanted to know. Whydid she keep thinking about India? Sara knelt down and picked up the fallen papers, placing them neatly back into her folder.
Hetty looked puzzled. "Well, if ya want. There's not much I'm going to do, really. Simply tell Janet that I will not tolerate her son behaving in that fashion."
"Jacob Pye goads him, Aunt Hetty," Sara said, pinning up her hair. "You know that."
<"Be that as it may, Sara, I cannot run a school when my pupils are constantly fighting with one another. And as Daniel is a King, I expect him to set an example, just as I expected it of you children."
* * * * *
"I had to!" Daniel argued as he stood in the King's kitchen in front of a family conclave that included Janet, Alec and Aunt Eliza. Sara, surprisingly quiet, stood against the wall with her arms folded. "Jacob started it!"
Hetty was standing behind Daniel, as though to prevent him from running off. She pulled on Daniel's shoulder. "Daniel King, don't ya go and tell an out-and-out lie to your own family! I know full well it was you who threw the first punch. I saw ya with my own eyes."
"Daniel," Alec began. "You know what I've said to you about fighting. Now, we've talked about this, lad. I'd expected you to listen."
"But, Father, I had to!" Daniel repeated. "He was--" Daniel screwed up his face in anger. "He was insulting our family." Turning and facing Hetty, he added, "our good King name!
"Aunt Hetty, it's like you always say: duty and honour, you know. 'A gentleman always fights a good fight--and a man will fight to protect his home and his family and that it's honourable to fight for that.'" He finished quoting Hetty and looked at his mother. "I thought I did right."
At that moment, a door opened and Cecily appeared. Janet eyed her daughter angrily. Cecily shifted her eyes and saw Daniel's bruises and his dirty face. "Daniel, you've been fighting," she said, going to him.
"Cecily, now don't ya go and coddle the boy," Hetty said. "He's seriously infracted upon the school rules...and sent Jacob Pye home in much worse condition."
Daniel seemed eager to prove his point and spoke more to Cecily than anyone. "He said--he said you were a pacifist, Mother, and that all the Kings were weaklings. He said you ought to be shipped out of Canada because you don't agree--he said you're unpatriotic and disloyal to the Crown. And then he said--he said Felix was crazy. So, I had to fight him, didn't I? Didn't I do right, Cecily? Say yes, please!" He looked up at his sister imploringly. Cecily, knowing it was best to keep her mouth shut right then, didn't answer.
At this, Janet rushed over to the boy and took him away from Hetty and into her arms. "You'll not punish him, Hetty," she said firmly. "I see quite clearly now why Daniel has been fighting: this is your doing."
<"Mine!" said a shocked Hetty. "Janet, really--"
"All I know is you've filled his head with your incessant preening about heroism--just as you filled Felix's. Well, I'm taking Daniel away from you before he has to go join Felix up in his room! I'm taking Daniel out of school!" Janet finished hysterically.
"You're--you're what?!" Hetty exclaimed.
"I've already had one son taken away from me, Hetty. I'm not about to lose another."
"Now, I think we should just be calm about this," Alec began. "Janet, think about this for a moment. Do we really need to do something so drastic?"
"I don't need to think, about it, Alec," Janet snapped. "It's what I should have done a long time ago."
"Consider Daniel," Alec urged. "It's not fair for you to take him out of school and away from his friends. There has to be another solution."
"Yes," Hetty added. "And what about his lessons? Certainly ya don't intend to teach the boy yourself. You're not a proper teacher."
"Cecily can teach him," Janet replied.
"What?" Cecily asked, forgetting herself. She had studying of her own to do.
"You have plenty of spare time," Janet told her daughter. Then, she turned to her husband. "Alec, either you support me in this or you don't. Either way, it's time for me to do something about her influence on our children!"
"My influence! Janet King, I have tried to do nothing but good by them!"
"That's enough!" Alec shouted. "You two," he ordered, nodding toward Janet and Hetty. "Work this out. Please, for the sake of the family." He took Daniel by the shoulders. "It's best we got you cleaned up, lad." He was about to march Daniel into the summer kitchen when he stopped. Sara had let out a gasp, for Felix was standing in the doorway, leaning to one side.
"Felix," Janet said faintly. Alec looked into Felix's eyes. Yet again, they were clouded with pain. Something in his eyes looked past them, almost through them, as he stared at them. And then, Janet's heart gave a little flutter. A small light was in his eyes when he looked down at his brother.
"Been fighting?" he asked the boy in a curious voice. Daniel nodded.
Janet's eyes were brimming with tears. She turned away from them and faced the window, her hands on the sink.
"I need some water," Felix said slowly.
"I'll get it," Sara volunteered in a soft voice.
"No," Felix said, looking at Sara as though suddenly aware of her presence in Avonlea. "I can do it. I think I can do that, at least."
Felix made his way over to the cupboard and took down a glass, then pumped it full of water. All the while, Janet kept her eyes on him. She reached out and touched the folds of Felix's shirt, then his arm. Felix was looking down at her, and for a moment Janet saw some warmth in his deep blue eyes. He moved away from her and through the kitchen, stopping when he saw Sara.
"Sara," he said.
"Hello, Felix."
Felix kept his eyes on her for a moment, then turned away. He headed to the door of the summer kitchen, opened it, and went outside. For a moment, Sara almost followed him, but she held back. She could recall what that was like, just wanting to be left alone, just wanting to shut everything out.
For a moment, no one spoke. "Well," Hetty finally began. "Since we obviously do not see eye-to-eye, Janet King, I'll be on my way. Sara and I must go to Charlottetown tomorrow, so I'll likely not see ya if ya change your mind. Come, Sara."
But, Sara would not come. "Has anyone thought about asking Daniel how he feels about this?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Sara. He's only a child," Hetty replied.
"Child or not, he at least has a say about whether or not he stays in school."
Sara saw Alec standing in the doorway, his hand on the now clean Daniel's shoulder.
"Ordinarily, I'd agree with you," Cecily spoke up. "But, I think it's too much like asking him to choose sides." Sara nodded. "Come on, Daniel," she said to her brother, taking his hand. "Let's go do our chores."
After they'd left, Hetty turned to her sister-in-law. "You are resolute, then, Janet?"
"I am."
Alec sighed audibly.
"Then, I guess we've nothing further to discuss. Good day to ya" As she was leaving, Sara smiled at her aunt and uncle. Alec put his arms around her shoulders and gave her a small squeeze.
* * * * *
"I doubt Daniel really understands any of it, Aunt Hetty," Sara was saying to Hetty on the Charlottetown train. "And I think Uncle Alec is right. You and Aunt Janet ought to put your differences aside for Daniel's sake."
"What am I supposed to do, Sara Stanley, I ask ya? If Janet King doesn't care for the way I choose to run my school, then she is free to remove her child from it. The very idea of Janet putting the blame for her child's bad behaviour on me.
Sara sighed in disgust. "It's not the way you run the school, Aunt Hetty. I'm sure Aunt Janet agrees that you're a fine teacher. It's--it's--"
"It's what?"
"It's all this war talk. Maybe you shouldn't...mention it so much."
"Sara, you are not a teacher, so you do not understand the duty that an educator such as myself has to indoctrinate the pupils with a sense of pride in their country."
"I'm sure they hear about it at home. Many of them even have brothers who have gone off to fight. Honestly, no one can get away from hearing about the war."
"Well, then. It reassures them that Canada is behind our boys."
"Aunt Hetty, all I ask is that you talk to Aunt Janet again. I just don't think Daniel understands the difference between what you say about the war and simple playground bullying."
"Sara, I told ya. I don't feel that's my job. It's up to Janet and Alec to discipline the boy."
"But when he hears it from you--"
"Sara, I've heard enough. I thank ya for your opinion, child."
"Fine," replied Sara, who settled into her seat and looked out the window. Somewhere down the corridor, someone was humming a favourite song of hers from her Avonlea childhood. Sara began humming along, softly, hearing the words in her mind.
Come by the hills
To the land where fancy is free.
And stand where the peaks meet the sky
And the rocks meet the sea.
Where the rivers run clear
And the bracken is gold in the sun.
And cares of tomorrow must wait
Till this day is done.
* * * * *
Hetty King sat in the waiting room at the Charlottetown Hospital. She wiggled in her seat impatiently and checked the watch pinned to her jacket several times. "Ooof!" she said to herself. She rose from her seat and approached the desk. A young, dark-haired nurse was working behind it. Hetty banged her hand on the bell on the desk in order to get the nurse's attention.
"May I help you?" asked the nurse.
"I had an appointment at ten o'clock sharp. It is now nearly half past."
"I'm very sorry, Mrs.--"
"Miss. Miss Henrietta King. K-I-N-G. I have an appointment with Dr. Pettibone."
"Well, Miss King. Dr. Pettibone will be with you as soon as he can. If you would please have a seat?"
"Young lady, I have been sitting for the past half an hour. I demand to see a doctor." Hetty surveyed the hospital floor. "Oh, where on earth is that ridiculous boy?"
"Dr. Pettibone is very busy, madam. He has several patients to attend to."
"Have ya only one doctor?"
The nurse seemed to take this question personally. "No, madam," she said with restrained calm. She examined a schedule on her desk. "Dr. Fields can see you shortly," she offered.
"My good woman," Hetty began, pointing her finger at the nurse and rolling it around in a circle as she spoke. "I made an appointment with Dr. Arthur Pettibone and I intend to see Dr. Arthur Pettibone."
"Then, I'm sorry, Miss King, but you will have to wait until Dr. Pettibone is available." The nurse checked the schedule. "This shows Dr. Pettibone should be free. Perhaps he's assisting one of the other doctors. We are very busy, madam. There is a war on. We've just received a new batch of wounded men, and we are lending several of our doctors to the war hospital in Carmody. Please have patience."
"I'm perfectly aware that there's a war on, young lady. I do not, however, appreciate being kept waiting like this. I'll have ya know that my niece, Sara Stanley, has just this past Christmas made a sizeable contribution--" Hetty saw Arthur walking toward the waiting room from a long, dark hallway. A young nurse was following him.
"Aha!" Hetty said to the nurse at the desk."So that's what he's up to. Arthur Pettibone!" she called.
Arthur was walking quickly toward Hetty, speaking to the nurse about some sort of strange therapy Hetty had never heard of. The nurse didn't seem to be paying attention to what he was saying, but stared up at him with adoring eyes. Arthur, however, looked down at her with an expression that showed he was trying to hide his boredom. Suddenly, the nurse stepped in front of him and blocked his path. "Oh, Dr. Pettibone," she was saying, "you simply must help me!"
"Well, Nurse..." Arthur trailed off. He knitted his brows together, searching for her name.
The nurse's face fell. She then smiled broadly. "Plimpton," she supplied in a high, squeaky voice.
"Nurse Plimpton, I have a patient to see at present. Perhaps one of the other nurses could assist you. Excuse me." He approached Hetty. "Miss King!" he greeted ingratiatingly and gestured for her to follow. "It's so good to see you again!"
"I'll have none of your wheedling ways, Arthur Pettibone. You may be able to sweet-talk some silly young nurse but I am a completely different matter, I assure ya. I've been kept waiting for a good thirty minutes."
"I'm terribly sorry about that, Miss King. If you would just follow me."
Hetty stepped in front of him and led the way toward an examination room. "I don't know why ya've brought me here in the first place, Arthur Pettibone." She turned and pointed her finger at him. "I'm fit as a fiddle."
* * * * *
Sara was sitting at the head of a long mahogany and oak table in the comfortable and expensively furnished board room of Stanley Shipping and Imports' Charlottetown office. She was seated in a large carved oak chair upholstered in a dark blue leather. The chair's enormous size made Sara seem quite diminutive; almost like a child.
"As you can see, Miss Stanley, this year's profit returns are already almost double those of last year," Mr. Barrows said as he handed Sara several sheets of paper that had detailed information about the financial equity of Stanley Shipping and Imports, Inc.
"Yes," agreed Mr. Sedgwick, smiling. "We have the war to thank for that."
Sara wrinkled her forehead in disgust. "Excuse me?" The men looked at each other and then at Sara. "I'm making money off the war?"
Mr. Barrows shrugged his shoulders. "Everyone is. Times are changing, Miss Stanley. Stanley Shipping and Imports must provide its services to industries engaged in war production, especially with the Royal Navy commandeering three of our largest vessels. The sinking of two of our vessels, including the Sara Alexandra last month, puts us at a bit of a disadvantage. It's impossible to get new ships built for commercial use. If we don't keep up, your family's company won't survive the war. One of the smaller shipping companies will step in and corner our market. We must put aside whatever personal beliefs we may have," and he eyed Sara suspiciously, "for the good of the company."
"You can't tell us you didn't know, Miss Stanley," Mr. Sedgwick said. "I do apologize if I sound reproachful, but your profit reports...your shares. The large amounts of money you have been accruing in your bank accounts. Come, come. You're an intelligent young lady. You must have come to the conclusion that the company was making large profits from the war."
Sara was silent for a moment. "I became...I became distracted. I didn't pay as much attention."
"You seem flustered, Miss Stanley," Mr. Sedgwick said. "Have a glass of water." Sara noticed that Sedgwick's clerk poured the water from a large cut crystal decanter. Once placed in front of her, she refused to touch the water. How much had that cost? Bought from the percentage fees automatically paid them, no doubt. Fees from money made off the war.
Sara looked past Mr. Barrows. On the wall opposite her, hung a large oil painting of her father, Blair. She looked deeply into the painting's eyes. Mr. Barrows caught her gaze. "You're too young to remember, of course, but your father led this company through the South African struggle. He had to, and he made a spanking good profit off of it to boot. Your father was a businessman, Miss Stanley. So are we. If this war business troubles you, you do, of course, have an option."
Sara eyed him suspiciously. "What kind of option?"
* * * * *
Sara took a cab from her trustees' offices to the Charlottetown Hospital. She sat in the back quietly, reviewing the interview over and over in her mind.
"Charlottetown Hospital, miss," the cab driver said.
"Thank you," she said absently. She reached into her silken purse and took out a crisp twenty dollar bill. "Here you are," she said.
The cab driver let out an expression of shock. "Miss, the fare's only one dollar fifty."
"You keep the change," she said. "Thanks again."
"Thank you, miss."
She slowly climbed the steps up to the building and went through the doors. The hospital was quite busy. There were doctors running to and fro. She saw several young men in Army uniforms being wheeled around by tired-looking nurses. The reception desk was unoccupied so she rang the bell. No one came. She rang again. Realizing that no one would be coming to assist her anytime soon, she thought it would be best to wait for Hetty or Arthur to emerge.
There were several magazines laying about and Sara picked one up. After flipping through it and realizing that it was nothing but page after page of war propaganda, she slammed it shut in disgust. As she looked about her, she noticed that there were several young soldiers being wheeled through the same corridor to her left. Sara figured that it must be the wing reserved for war casualties. Some of them had minor injuries. Some looked ahead, unblinking, their eyes glazed over. She noticed that with very few exceptions, nearly all of them had a tired, hungry look; the very same look she had seen in Felix's eyes. Can nothing be done for those boys? Time. Time is supposed to heal all wounds.
Sara approached the nurse's desk. "Excuse me," she said to the same nurse to whom Hetty had spoken. "I'm inquiring after Miss Hetty King."
The nurse sighed audibly. "Miss King is presently seeing Dr. Pettibone. I don't know when to expect her to be done. Dr. Pettibone was called away from her a few times. I expect Miss King is quite discomfited."
Sara smiled, seeing that the nurse had taken a good measure of her aunt. "Thank you, then."
'The nurse managed a weak, meaningless smile and went back to studying the open book on her desk. Sara noticed that the waiting room was clearing out a bit. Looking down the long corridor, she saw that no one was going near it except a young soldier in a wheelchair, slowly being pushed by a volunteer nurse. She figured that must be where the injured soldiers were being treated.
Her curiosity was overwhelming. She wasn’t quite sure if she wanted to revisit a place full of injured soldiers, but then she remembered how things had been sometimes at the Paris hospital. She remembered the times when she sang to them, talked to them, told them stories. Quite suddenly, Sara was hit with an insatiable desire to do something. Making certain that no one saw her, for she wasn't quite sure if she was allowed in the soldiers' wing or not, she stole from the waiting room and made her way down the corridor.
Up until she reached the double doors that held the entrance to the soldiers' wing, the walls were a bare, garish white. Now that she was beyond the doors, the walls were transformed. Bright paintings hung on the wall. Shocked by this, Sara went up and inspected them. She saw one that was quite cheerful, not a painting but a framed chalk drawing. It was of three small children, bent over so their faces were concealed. They were in some exotic location--Sara was strongly reminded of India. Their feet were bare and the little girl was holding up the hem of a long, white dress made of some light material and tied with a wide, bright blue sash. They were playing in a pool of water and the artist had captured them in mid-splash. Sara moved to the next picture. It was of a bright day in a marketplace. Another was of red-coloured sand with tufts of long, green grass growing in it. To the east was the ocean, painted the deepest of blues. Obviously, the artist was local. There were several of these paintings and drawings lining the walls of the wing. Whoever had done this obviously had a keen sense of what the soldiers were missing; it was a reminder of all the lovely things that life could bring.
There was a large window to the end of one hallway and Sara approached it. There, she saw young men sitting in the light. Some were in wheelchairs, some sitting alone in chairs. A phonograph in the corner was playing opera music. Some soldiers were sleeping, some writing letters, some talking.
"You were in the 85th, then," asked a lowland Scotch soldier. "I saw action with your company on the Somme."
"Horrible days those," a Canadian lad responded. "I saw my best friend shot, right in front of me. I brought his things back to his mum and dad. They're Summerside folk, like me, from right around here. It was in trying to get him back in the trench that I got my prize," he laughed and gestured to his pant leg, which was empty. "They took it off right on the field hospital. I thought I'd had it, I really did. I was out of it for days and when I finally came to, I was back on PEI. My mum and sister come up every day to see me. Dad can't. He's got to work the farm on his own now that I'm laid up. My older brother Dave, well he was killed." He paused for a moment. "I've promised to do my bit when I get better. Dr. Pettibone says that'll be soon."
"Awful good man, Dr. Pettibone," the Scottish boy replied. "He's gotten in a good spot of trouble for us soldiers, doing everything he can to help us out. I can't say I'd be healing any faster in a regular hospital. I was hit awful hard with pneumonia. My whole company was. Lost nearly half; most of us were Glasgow boys. Then when we did see action, I guess I was still sick. I didn't make it much past the trench. I was awful lucky I was only hit in the shoulder. I guess it's time for me to leave soon, make room for the lads in worse shape. I figured if I can't get back to Scotland right yet, I'll settle here in Canada for a spell."
"You ought to come out and meet my folks," the Summerside boy said. "They'd welcome you like a son."
"I don't want to trouble you, but I'd appreciate it."
"Don't think of it. You can even meet my sweetheart, Caroline. She's promised to marry me even if I'm lame."
"I guess you got yourself a good girl," the Glasgow boy said.
"Excuse me, miss," a Newfoundland boy said to Sara. Sara turned from the window and faced the boy, who sat in a wheelchair. He was no more than nineteen or twenty. She saw that many of the soldiers were looking at her. The Newfoundland boy smiled broadly. "Are you a nurse?"
"I hope so," another lad said eagerly.
Sara laughed. "No, I'm just a visitor." Her head was swimming. Had Arthur--Arthur Pettibone--done all of this?
"Tell me," Sara said to the soldiers. "You're patients of Dr. Pettibone's?"
"Oh, yes, miss," the Newfoundland boy said."You want to talk to him? I 'spect he's busy right now. You know somebody--a soldier?"
"Yes," Sara said. "I know a soldier. I'm curious: what exactly do you do here?"
"Well, mostly we rest. It's real quiet here, not like a hospital at all, really. And we talk to each other. That helps, to talk to other fellas. And if you're real bad off, you get special treatment. Dr. Pettibone, he calls it psychol'gee, but I call it bein' looked after. Oh, yep. There he is." The boy pointed.
Sara looked down the hall. She saw Arthur in consultation with another, older doctor. "Thank you," Sara said to the boy.
"You're welcome, miss." Sara smiled and hurried toward Arthur. It was as she got closer, she noticed that he did not look happy at all. And, the doctor speaking to him was not happy either.
"What's this I hear that you kept Miss King waiting for quite some time while you conducted your silly--your silly experiments?"
"I was--"
"I know what you were doing," he snapped.
"Dr. Madison, I just want to make them better--"
"They are getting excellent treatment."
"It's not enough," Arthur almost shouted. "They're sick, they're still sick. Inside."
"Then the best place for them is at home with their families."
"I don't believe that!"
Dr. Madison let out a long sigh and looked up at Arthur, displeased.
"I heard nothing but praise about you from your professors at McGill," he said slowly. "You have a bright future ahead of you in medicine. I'd hate to see you ruin it." Sara saw Arthur's jaw clench. "Now, you may get back to your patient."
"Yes, sir," he replied with respectful defiance in his voice. He turned away and went out through the double doors. He was obviously irked and Sara, not wanting to be seen, followed him at a distance.
Arthur finally disappeared into an examination room, from which she heard her aunt's voice.
"Well, what was that all about that ya had to be called out so urgently?"
"Oh, nothing, Miss King."
Not wanting to interrupt, Sara sat back down in the waiting room and attempted to look through a magazine. Already, a plan was forming in her mind. She would tell Aunt Janet and Felix would be brought to Charlottetown. It was worth a chance, she thought. Felix should at least have Arthur look at him.
After another twenty minutes of waiting, Sara, anxious to speak to Arthur, got up. She noticed that the nurse was deeply engrossed in whatever she was studying, so she walked down the hall that led to Hetty's examination room. There, she saw Hetty, who had plastered herself up against an examination bed. She was bent over, but her head was up, and she was shaking her forefinger at Arthur.
"So take your...your instruments away from me, Arthur Pettibone," she was saying. "I'll thank ya to remember that I'm not a pin cushion."
"Hetty King! Have you taken leave of your senses?" Sara asked, using one of her aunt's favourite expressions against her.
Arthur turned to hear in surprise and went up to shake her hand. "Sara! Your aunt was telling me that you'd returned from Paris." After shaking her hand, he clasped his hands behind his back as he spoke. "You look very sophisticated."
Sara smiled. "Thank you, Doctor Pettibone," she said to this appraisal. "But as Miss King's charge, I must ask what on earth you are doing."
Arthur laughed softly. "Not to worry, Sara. These are just some exercises I'm attempting to give your aunt to help strengthen her back. And it's up to you to make sure that she does them."
"Don't patronise me, Arthur Pettibone. I'm not a child." Hetty suddenly lost her balance, fell backward. Her arms flailed and she tried to catch hold of the examination bed.
"Aunt Hetty!" Sara ran and quickly caught Hetty in her arms. "Are-are you all right?"
"I'm perfectly fine, child. No need to trouble yourself. Oh, Sara dear," Hetty said, obviously flustered by the experience. She straightened up. "I pray you're never ill enough to fall into his clutches. He's stubborn, obstinate, willful, overbearing, and opinionated; just like his father."
"But unlike Hetty King?" Sara asked, sharing look with Arthur. He crossed the room and examined a few of Hetty's X-rays.
"Precisely," Hetty responded sharply as she tried to rearrange herself."How was your meeting with the board, child?"
"Very enlightening," Sara responded dryly, unwilling to let her aunt know how disturbing it had been.
"Excellent. It's good to see you taking an avid interest in your business affairs. We must arrange for you to meet with your solicitors soon as well. I'm glad you're now of age to look after these matters yourself.
"Now, Miss King. It's very important that you do these every day."
"Aunt Hetty is better, then?" Sara asked, concerned. "There aren't any other growths on her back or anywhere else? I know tumours can grow very easily in the liver--"
"Oh, really, child! I suppose they talk about such things in Gay Payree, do they, Sara?" Hetty straightened her already impeccably neat blouse with a firm tug.
"Never mind. If there's nothing the matter with her tongue, I'm sure she's fine."
"I'll see myself out, Arthur Pettibone. Good day to ya. Hurry up, Sara. I'll have none of your dawdling, child. We'll miss our train."
"Actually, Aunt Hetty, I'd like to speak to Arthur for a moment."
"Why on earth?" Hetty asked. "You're not ill?"
"No, I..." Sara trailed off. Arthur leaned against the table so he did not tower over Sara so much.
"What is it, Sara?"
"I'm sorry," she blurted out. "I was snooping. I got bored so I--I went into the soldiers' wing."
"Oh," Arthur replied.
"I saw Dr. Madison yelling at you. No, you didn't see me," she said in response to Arthur's puzzled expression.
"Sara Stanley--" Hetty began.
"Please, Aunt Hetty. I know it was wrong of me to be spying on you, but I think--I think what you're doing is wonderful. And, I was wondering if--if--if you'd be willing to take another patient?"
Arthur bowed his head. "Sara, I'm in enough trouble as it is. I'd like to do whatever I can for your friend, but..." Trailing off, he saw the disappointment on Sara's face. "But I'll see what I can do."
Sara instantly brightened. "May I make an appointment, then?"
Hetty interrupted. "For whom, Sara? For whom?"
Sara turned to her aunt and looked her straight in the eye. "For Felix."
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