Felicity Pike was among them. Her golden brown hair lay scattered on the pillows, glowing like amber in the morning sun. She murmured softly and reached her hand out to feel the reassuring presence of her husband. As her hand was greeted with nothing save air and cold sheets, her eyes flew open. He was gone. His clothes were gone. Far above her, the lighthouse lamp was out. For a wild moment, Felicity felt icy dread grip her soul. Had it all been a dream--the wedding, the dinner, the fiddle, Gus? Her voice quavered as she tentatively called out. "Gus?"
She was rewarded with the sound of his feet on the stairs. She hadn't realized she had been holding her breath but exhaling now, she fell back onto the pillows. Gus's head poked around the bedroom door. "Right here, Felicity," he said cheerfully. His smiled faded as he noticed her pale face. "Are you feelin' all right?" Two quick steps brought him to the bedside; he sat down on the edge of the bed.
"I'm fine, Gus," she answered sheepishly. "It just frightened me when you weren't here when I woke up...I..." she cast her blue eyes downward. "I wondered if it had all been a dream."
His strong hand caressed her face and lifted it so that her eyes met his. "Ain't no dream, Felicity," he said reassuringly, "I'm as real as real can be."
She smiled up at him. "I'm glad," she replied simply and he grinned back at her, an impish look crossing his handsome face. He stood up carefully.
"Are you hungry?" he asked solicitously, as Felicity sat back up in bed.
"Well, now that you mention it," she began, but was cut off.
"Good!" Gus interrupted. "Stay right here." He turned again at the doorway. "You won't move, now?" A bemused expression crossing her face, Felicity shook her head vigorously.
Within a moment he was back, carefully balancing a tray in his hands. Felicity opened her mouth, but Gus had anticipated her inquiry. "No, I don't need help, I'm doin' fine," he replied to her unanswered question. "Mornin' is the best time for me--the light is so bright, I can see most everything. Including yer lovely face."
Felicity blushed at his compliment and then surveyed the tray he had placed in her lap--tea, toast, and even a bunch of wildflowers in a glass. She smiled up at him and reached for his hand. "Do you like it?" he asked anxiously. "Not much to work with in that kitchen."
"It's wonderful, Gus," she said. "This is so thoughtful of you." Gus carefully pulled the chair up next to the bed and sat down, as Felicity began to eat. "Felicity," he said quietly, his face suddenly serious. "I've got something else for you."
She looked at him, curiosity creasing her forehead. Gus reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, wrapped box. He quickly laid it on the tray. Felicity could not believe what her eyes beheld. A small package, with two intertwined ribbons wrapped around it. The ribbon had once been pink, but was now faded to a soft white. The paper was yellowing and crisp. Felicity knew that she had seen this same package before...but where?
They both spoke at once. "The Valentine's Day dance!"
"But how on earth you kept this but where?" She laughed out loud, and leaned over to give her husband a decisive kiss. Gus chuckled broadly.
"Happy Valentine's Day, Mrs. Pike! Better late than never!"
She pulled on the ribbon and undid the wrapping, which fell to shreds in her hands. The paper fell away to reveal a simple box. Looking up at him, she carefully lifted the lid and the cotton wool that covered the gift.
It was a locket--sterling silver, intricately engraved. Its once shiny face was dulled slightly with tarnish and time. Felicity lifted in out of the box with wonderment etched on her lovely face. "Gus, it's beautiful," she breathed. He smiled at her expression.
"Wait, see, there's more." He took the lovely pendant from her hands. Running his fingers along the edge, he tripped the mechanism to open it. It fell into two ovals in his hands. Gus held it out for her to see. "I can't see it too good, but there's a picture of you in there, see?" Felicity peered at the tiny portrait. It was she as a baby--her fair hair in ringlets all over her head, her big eyes staring seriously at the camera. She remembered the picture- she had given one exactly like it to Sara.
"Yes, that is me," she said slowly. "But that's the picture I gave Sara, and I know she still has it. I saw it when she packed to move back to Montreal."
Gus smiled broadly. "Yer Uncle Jasper made a copy for us. Remember when yer Aunt Olivia found a whole bunch of glass photographic plates in yer parents' attic? That was one of them. Sara picked out the locket and I fit the picture in and there you go!" He sat back in the chair, a pleased expression on his face.
"But where did you keep it all these years?" Felicity wondered. "Everything you had was with you on the Maid of Calais, wasn't it?" She glared at him, mock accusation in her tone. "Confess, Gus Pike. Did Felix keep it for you? Remember how I pleaded after that dance for you to give me that present, and you wouldn't! Felix couldn't keep a secret for that long!"
Gus's laughter rang through the tiny bedroom, and Felicity, despite her efforts, had to join in. She carefully laid the locket back in the box, and replaced the lid. When he had regained in composure, Gus told the tale.
No, Felix hadn't kept the locket--the lad wouldn't keep his own head on if it weren't attached! Gus, in a fit of pique after the dance, had brought the gift home to the lighthouse and swore that Felicity would not get it, until he was good and ready to give it to her again. He had taken the package and hidden it the smuggling lockers on the first floor of the lighthouse. No one but he and Ezekiel Crane knew the secret of those lockers and Gus knew that the present was safe there from prying eyes. And there it had remained until that very morning, when he had gone outside to get some wildflowers to put on Felicity's breakfast tray. As he re-entered the gloomy building, the bright morning sunlight had hit the concealed lockers and he remembered. And hence, Felicity Pike received her Valentine's Day gift six years late, but not any less appreciated for the delay.
* * * * *
Felix King had greeted the day with a drawn face that bespoke a sleepless night. Dawn found him on the porch of the farmhouse, Digger curled contentedly at his feet. The young man had sat there most of the night, going over the events of the previous day again and again. No matter how much he thought it over, no matter how much he mulled, he could not escape the singular conclusion that stared him so glaringly in the face. He loved Izzy Pettibone. Oh, he'd always known he was sweet on her--they'd had some great adventures, and he definitely thought she was the prettiest girl in Avonlea. But in a single day, he had witnessed two events that had sealed his fate forever: Izzy coming down the church aisle towards him, just as she would if she were if they were...well, you know; and Izzy, hurt and angry, running away from him, leaving him alone with his buggy and his thoughts on the shore road.
He loved her, with all the searing and gut-wrenching pleasure and pain mixed together that love brings to a young man. And he, Felix King, was leaving Avonlea and Izzy in four short weeks, to be gone for a very long time perhaps forever. Felix groaned and dropped his head into his hands. How had Gus been able to do it--leave Felicity to travel to the Caribbean? If only he could talk to Gus--but no, he couldn't do it.
Slowly the realization dawned on him. Felix lifted his head to watch the progress of the sun, as it moved across the frost-tipped grass of the King yard. His face warmed in the gathering light and he stood up abruptly. Digger, dumped unceremoniously off the step, whined in protest. Felix turned to enter the house. He understood how Gus had been able to do it. He knew what had to be done; nothing remained now, except to do it.
From her bedroom, Izzy could see Felix's tall figure as he strode purposefully along the quiet road through the village. She turned quickly from the window, hastily pulling the curtain closed. It wasn't even nine o'clock in the morning; what was he doing here so early? She wasn't ready to face him; she couldn't, she wouldn't! Grabbing up her dressing gown from the rumpled bed, she flung open the door of her room and dashed out into the hallway, nearly colliding with Arthur in the process.
"Izzy! Slow down there," he admonished, steadying her with one hand. His brow furrowed with consternation as he passed his hand through his rumpled hair. "Are you quite well? You looked awfully flushed!"
"Arthur!" she gasped. "I'm glad it's you. Look, Felix King is coming up the front walk this very minute and I don't want to see him. Go answer the door and get him to leave." She held his arm firmly and propelled him quickly down the hallway to the top of the stairs.
"What am I going to tell him?" Arthur replied, confusion in his tone. "Are you sure you're feeling all right?"
"Arthur, I'm fine," Izzy stated firmly. "Just tell him anything...I'm sick, I've gone out, I've joined the circus...anything! Please?"
Arthur looked down at his sister's imploring eyes and sighed. How had she turned into a young lady so quickly--a young lady with a beau and emotions and maidenly evasions? He smiled ruefully; the Kings sure seemed to know how to get to the Pettibones!
"Okay, Izzy," he said quietly and her face relaxed. "I'll do my best."
An insistent knock sounded at the front door. "Go!" Izzy hissed between clenched teeth, as she pushed Arthur towards the stairs.
Felix was about to knock for the second time when the door opened to reveal Arthur Pettibone. "Arthur!" Felix was momentarily distracted from his purpose by the unexpected sight. "I didn't realize you were home." He attempted to shake hands with the older man, but was prevented by the large package that he held.
"Got home yesterday afternoon," he replied cordially. "Just here for a few days."
"Oh," Felix's voice faltered. "That's great." He looked around nervously. "Izzy home?" He tried to make his voice sound casual.
"Actually," Arthur's voice was as smooth as glass. "Izzy's in bed. She had an awfully busy day yesterday and she seemed really tired last evening. We decided to let her sleep in." Arthur looked pointedly at the package. "Any message?"
Felix started, as if he were seeing the carefully wrapped package for the first time. "Message" he began. "Well, yes." He shoved the wrapped box towards Arthur. "Can you give her this? It's very important," he continued earnestly. "You'll make sure she gets it?" His young face was lined with anxiety and exhaustion.
Arthur smiled reassuringly. "No problem, Felix. I'll give it to her as soon as she wakes up."
Relief washed over Felix's features. "Thanks, Arthur. Perhaps we'll see you around?"
Arthur nodded, as Felix turned and headed down the walkway. He stopped at the sound of Arthur's voice. "Felix...I hear you enlisted; congratulations!"
Felix flushed slightly and shuffled his feet nervously, eyeing the ground intently. "Yeah, thanks," was his brusque reply, and he turned and left.
Arthur continued to stare after him, then quietly closed the door. He turned to find Izzy standing right behind him. He stifled a yell. "Izzy," he exclaimed. "You scared me to death!"
"Thanks Arthur," she replied, grabbing the package from his hands. "I owe you one."
"No problem, Iz," was his reply, but she was gone, the hem of her dressing gown flying around the corner and up the stairs. Izzy carefully closed her bedroom door behind her. What could be in the box? Her mind flashed back to the previous day. Her hat! Within seconds, the string and paper were gone and she was lifting the lid. There lay her tulle-trimmed hat, still bearing the dusty reminders of its sojourn on the shore road. But her eyes were drawn to the envelope that lay on top of the pink confection. "Miss Isolde Pettibone," stated the envelope in strong black handwriting. With trembling hands, she picked it up and withdrew the letter from the envelope. Taking a deep breath, she opened it. Ah, the power of the written word. No matter how short the epistle, how plain the language, how crude the penmanship, a heartfelt letter of love, when written by a certain special someone and addressed to us carries all the thrill and romance of the most beautiful sonnet ever crafted by the most romantic of poets.
Izzy:
I was wrong to enlist without telling you. I thought that adventure and excitement were the most important things, but I know now that this is not the case. I love you with all my heart; you must realize that by now. If you promise to be my wife, I will resign my commission and go wherever you want to go, even stay here in Avonlea if you like. You are the most important thing in my life. Please say yes.Felix King
* * * * *
Felix found himself back on the quiet road far too quickly, feeling rather flat and foolish. He had prepared what he thought was a rather romantic speech to accompany his hastily written letter, but Izzy's sleeping in had rendered his talk fairly useless. He paused in the road and looked back towards the Pettibone house. Hie eye moved up towards Izzy's window, caught by a motion behind the curtain. Was that her? He strained to see more closely, then decided that he been fooled by a trick of the light. He turned and resumed his quick pace back towards the King Farm. A shrill voice cut the still morning air, breaking his solemn reverie and slowing his step. "Felix! Felix King! You're just the person I wanted to see!"
The young man manufactured a smile, pasted it on, and turned. "Hello Sally," he said pleasantly. "How are you this morning?"
Sally Potts, Avonlea's gossipy telephone operator and part-time postal mistress smiled coquettishly at Felix. He was young, tis true, but he was single and a King. One didn't want to pass up a chance! "I'm just fine," she gushed. "You're up mighty early this morning--important business?"
Her ice blue eyes glittered at Felix and he was unable to hold her stare. He mumbled about something "not too important" while he stared at the red dirt at his feet. Sally smiled triumphantly, as an awkward silence fell between them. Felix looked up. "You wanted to see me about something in particular?" he reminded her, and Sally started.
"Oh of course, silly me," she enthused, turning back towards the post office building behind her. "You see, we got a letter yesterday and it was marked for Felicity King. And since Gus and Felicity are leaving today, I thought it might be best if I got it to her before they left."
Felix had followed Sally into the darkened post office. From a drawer under the counter, she withdrew the letter and handed it to him. The address was clea: "Felicity King; c/o The King Farm; Avonlea, PEI, Canada." No return address and the postmark was faint and unreadable. "Any idea who it might be from?" Sally asked curiously. "Maybe it's another ghost coming back from the dead! Can you believe that naughty Gus Pike coming back like that? Good thing he came back before Felicity married Stuart!"
Considering his day thus far, Felix felt he had endured quite enough. "Well Sally, I'm quite sure I don't know who wrote it," he replied coolly, sliding the letter into his pocket and tipping his hat. He left her standing there, staring at his retreating figure.
"Well, I never!" she murmured to herself. "The rudeness, and after I went to that effort for him!"
The King Farm was a beehive of activity when Felix returned. His mother, Aunt Hetty, and Aunt Olivia had commandeered the kitchen and were spiriting goodies from every crevice of the farmhouse pantry. The noise and bustle as the three ladies worked was deafening and Felix beat a hasty retreat after bidding good morning to all. He was backing out of the room, his mouth full of a stolen treat, when he collided with Sara, who was tying a voluminous apron over her elegant dress. She smiled warmly at him, and then looked beyond into the frantic kitchen.
"You know what they say about too many cooks in the kitchen," she murmured irreverently as she headed into the fray. Feeling fairly superfluous, Felix wandered out to the porch, where Daniel and Montgomery were busy teasing Digger. Felix sat heavily on the porch swing. The younger man opened his mouth to speak to the children and then closed it again, exhaling deeply. Laying his head back on the swing, he allowed the dear and familiar sounds of his home wash over him--the dishes clanking, the cattle lowing, the children screeching in delight. Home was wonderful; was he really ready to leave it...as a sailor or a husband....or perhaps both? Yawning deeply, Felix closed his eyes and within a few moments, was fast asleep.
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