It was good to be home. Much as he was now really looking forward to his tour in the navy, there was no place like Avonlea. Especially when he could be in such fine company. His half-closed eyes glanced sideways at the petite figure next to him. He cleared his throat. "So, what are you up to this fine evening, Izzy Pettibone?" Felix asked lazily.
Izzy smiled indulgently, suddenly struck by how much Felix sounded like his father sometimes. "No plans, Mr. King," she said nonchalantly. "Did you have something in mind?" She looked directly at him, her brown eyes full of fun.
Felix jerked up to a sitting position, and turned to her. "Well, now that you mention it," he said with a teasing note, "I was wondering if I could escort you to dinner."
"Dinner!" Izzy was definitely paying attention now. "Where – at your house? With your parents?"
It sounded like fun, but they had only a few precious days left before Felix had to leave. Spending time with his parents, despite their being such nice people, wasn't what she had in mind at all!
"Actually, I was thinking of the White Sands," he replied, a more serious tone coming over his voice. "We don't have that many nights until I'm gone for a long while, so I thought maybe we could, well, celebrate."
"Celebrate…" Izzy said slowly, a smile coming over her pretty face as she glanced at him, savoring their shared secret. "Well, I think that sounds very nice. I'd be honored to join you, Mr. King."
The buggy was pulling up to the gate of old blue farmhouse. Felix turned and looked at his childhood home, nestled among the trees. In the distance, he could see his father, his back bent, working in the fields, his contented whistle wafting over the golden fields. "I will miss this place," Felix murmured, more to himself than Izzy. Knowing that words would not come, Izzy simply grasped his large hand in her small one, and squeezed. Felix smiled at her, and their eyes met in shared understanding.
"Oh Felix, you're home!" The quiet moment was gone with the arrival of his mother, bustling out onto the King Porch. "Hello Izzy, I didn't see you there! Won't you come in for tea?"
"Oh, thank you, Mrs. King, but I really must be going," Izzy blushed inexplicably as Felix jumped down from the buggy and grabbed his bag from the back.
"Pick you up at seven then?" he inquired shyly, wondering why his mother's presence should make him feel suddenly awkward and about ten years old.
Izzy nodded in agreement, and in a minute, was disappearing down the road back towards Avonlea. Janet King looked quizzically at her son, as they turned to go into the house. "Where are you and Izzy off to this evening, Felix?" she inquired. "You just got home, I thought you might like to just rest tonight…" Her voice trailed off as his face grew more set.
"We're going to dinner at the White Sands," he replied crossly, tension rippling across his young face. "Do I have to account for my every minute here?"
His satisfaction and happiness in the day was gone, replaced by an unaccountably ferocious frustration. For pity's sake – he would be on his own in just a couple of weeks – did his family plan to account for his every move on the ship too? Janet was shocked at his uncharacteristic outburst.
"Really, Felix, I was just…" The hand she tried to lay on his arm was rudely brushed away.
"Just leave me alone," Felix said sharply, as he bounded in the door, through the kitchen, and up the stairs.
His mother was left standing in the kitchen doorway, concern and puzzlement etched on her face. She steadfastly rubbed her hands on her apron and sighed.
"Children are so much fun at this age," she commented dryly to Digger, as she poured herself a cup of tea and sat heavily into the nearest chair.
* * * * *
For the umpteenth time, his hand reached up to ensure that his tie was straight. After much wheedling, Felix had convinced his father to lend him the buggy, thereby sparing the need to ask Izzy to borrow her father's. Gazing up at the Pettibone house in the growing twilight, Felix saw the soft glow coming from Izzy's window. He swallowed hard, and threw back his shoulders. Alighting carefully, he tied the horse and picked his way up the lane to the front door. He raised his hand to knock.
The door was flung open, and Felix's surprised eyes met the more calculating ones of Clive Pettibone. Felix allowed his hand to drop as he cleared his throat.
"Ah, Mr. Pettibone, sir," he stammered. "I was here to pick up your daughter." He forced himself to meet the older man's stare.
"Yes, yes, I know that," Clive replied sharply. He stepped back with military precision. "Come in, Felix. We can wait for Izzy in the parlour."
Felix nervously followed him down the gloomy hallway. As the two tall figures entered the room, Muriel turned from the vase of flowers that she was carefully arranging. Her warm smile and friendly countenance reminded Felix of his mother; he relaxed slightly. "Felix, it is nice to see you," Muriel said warmly. "Sit right there – would you like a cup of tea while you're waiting?"
"Uh, no, no thank you, Mrs. Pettibone," he replied, sitting carefully on the edge of an extremely uncomfortable chair.
At Muriel's inquiring glance in his direction, Clive nodded curtly. As she left the room, Felix was overcome with a wild desire to run after her. Instead he met Clive's gaze evenly and turned on the King charm. "So, you must have enjoyed having Arthur home for a few days," he said brightly, remembering too late Clive and Arthur's rocky relationship. He winced inwardly. But Clive surprised him with his response.
"It was nice to have him here," Clive replied, sitting back in his comfortable chair. "I wish Morgan could get home more often, but it is the fate of children to grow up and make their own lives." His dark gaze was inscrutable, and Felix suddenly felt that he was transparent, his whole soul laid out for the older man to see. Did Clive know about him and Izzy? If so, how? "I understand from Izzy that you are headed for the navy."
Felix cleared his throat nervously. "Yes, I am sir, and I'm really looking forward to it – I think I'll enjoy the sea, from what Gus has told me about it, what with the travel and adventure…"
He was interrupted by the sound of a door closing upstairs. Izzy! He jumped to his feet. "I guess that Izzy's almost ready…"
Clive looked up at Felix, the youthful enthusiasm so clearly etched on his handsome face. The older man rose slowly. "The sea can be a hard task master," he commented softly. Felix frowned slightly at his serious tone.
"I'm sure the work will be challenging," he began by way of reply but was not permitted to finish.
"You are up to the work, young man, you're a King," Clive answered brusquely, waving his hand impatiently. "But the military can dominate you and," his tone softened considerably, "the people with whom you choose to share your life. I know how hard it was on Izzy's mother." He looked knowingly at Felix, whose dark eyes widened in surprise. He opened his mouth to respond, but was interrupted by Izzy's arrival at the parlour door, her youthful bloom and sparkling personality lighting up the darkening room.
"So, how do I look, Father?" she inquired brightly, her silken skirt rustling deliciously as she spun slowly around. She stopped and looked up into his face. Clive placed his hands on her small shoulders.
"You look lovely Izzy, as usual," he replied, his normally curt tone softened. Muriel nodded in agreement from the kitchen doorway, where she was wiping her hands on a voluminous apron.
"Felix?" Izzy turned to him. "Are we ready to go?" She reached out her hand to take his arm.
Felix was glad to have something to hold onto. He nodded. "I'll have her home directly after dinner, Mr. Pettibone, sir," he said firmly, strengthened by the feeling of Izzy's small hand tucked under his arm.
They turned and left the room. Clive and Muriel watched through the front door as Felix courteously helped Izzy into the buggy, and then hopped up himself. The older couple watched the younger exchange a smile, and then the buggy was gone. Clive felt two arms go around his waist and he looked down into his wife's beautiful face. A sympathetic smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He forced himself to smile as well. "I've lost her already," he said simply.
"I think it's a fair bet that they have decided what their future ought to hold," Muriel answered quietly.
Clive pulled away from her, and stalked back into the parlour, pausing at the window to light his pipe. Muriel, used to his mercurial moods, followed slowly, and put her arm through his. Together they looked at the sunset in the clear autumn sky. A scowl dominated Clive's face; curiously, he could feel Muriel shaking and he turned to look down at her. "Are you laughing at me, woman?" he demanded, when he saw the merriment on her face.
"Oh Clive," she teased, "You're just upset because he didn't ask your permission first!"
Clive sniffed derisively and returned to his contemplation of the sunset. Silence reigned. Muriel began to be consumed by the giggles, which she desperately tried to control. Finally, Clive's face broke, and he too began to laugh. "Well," he said in a injured tone, "in my day, a boy did ask the father's permission – why didn't the young pup do the same?"
Muriel grasped her husband by both arms and turned him towards her. "I certainly don't recall you asking anyone for permission to marry me," she said coquettishly.
"Point made, Mrs. Pettibone," Clive responded as he gathered her up in his arms.
* * * * *
Izzy daintily touched her napkin to her mouth, and placed it beside her plate. Looking across the table at Felix, she sighed with contentment. "That was absolutely wonderful!" she exclaimed. "As usual, you made an excellent recommendation."
Felix's face broke into a happy smile. "Well," he said loftily, "the sauce was a tad too salty, and I think I would have added a bit of…" his lecture was interrupted by the arrival of Chef Pierre, who, having overhead this discussion of his cooking, was nursing a hurt ego.
"Is that so, young man?" his rough voice seethed at the hapless former assistant manager. "I should like to see how you will enjoy the slop they serve you on that ship of yours!"
Felix, shocked by the sight of Pierre bussing tables, blushed deep red, and tried to make restitution. "Pierre – you're serving tables?" he asked, incredulity lilting his voice.
"Of course not!" he sniffed. "I came out to see your lovely friend."
At this, Pierre turned and his countenance softened immediately. His Trois-Rivières charm was on full force – he reached over, picked up Izzy's hand, and planted his lips firmly against it. Felix reached across the table in protest. Izzy smiled indulgently at the chef. "The meal was wonderful, Pierre, and I appreciate your coming to see us personally," Izzy replied warmly.
Pierre puffed up. "I could see immediately that you were a woman of breeding who appreciates fine cooking," he began, but his lecture was interrupted by the arrival of "the boss". Simon Tremayne leaned in and disturbed the lovely tableau.
"I am sure Miss Pettibone is a fine judge of your cooking, Pierre," he intoned in a low voice. "But I don't pay you to flirt with the guests!"
Pierre, tossing an injured look at the now giggling Izzy, drew himself up, and swept off towards the kitchen. Simon sighed. It would be days before the annoying Frenchman came down off his high horse and deigned to speak to any of them.
Felix sighed audibly and accepted the hand of his former employer. "Felix, you must be getting excited about leaving," Simon said heartily. "Nothing like the sea to show a man the world!"
Felix smiled broadly. "I am looking forward to it, Mr. Tremayne, " he replied, "but I don't anticipate any big adventures like you or Gus have had. I'll be home before you know it."
Simon's face grew more serious. "With the situation in Europe shaping up the way it is," he said, "I wouldn't be surprised if your tour lasted a lot longer than any of us anticipate." At the sight of the frown creasing Izzy's pretty face, Simon realized his mistake in making such a serious comment on a festive evening. "Ah, but enough talk – why don't you two step out to the garden?" he motioned towards the French doors, with their silken curtains billowing slightly in the late September breeze. "I can have the waiter bring your tea out there, if you like."
The moon was just rising over the ocean, its silvery beams cutting a swath across the dark, softly heaving waves. Having reached the end of the path that ran through the White Sands gardens, Izzy paused briefly at the edge of the soft beach. Felix continued on, then realized her predicament. With her delicate shoes, Izzy could hardly be tramping over shifting sands. "That's all right, Izzy," he said graciously. "We don't have to walk on the beach – we can go back and sit in the garden."
Izzy frowned slightly, and an impish grin crossed her face. Within seconds, she had stripped off the shoes. Swinging them in one hand, she picked up her skirts with the other, and stepped delicately onto the beach. "Is it any wonder I hated girls' clothes when I was younger," she said, laughing aloud. "You can't do a darn thing in them!"
The night was a dream; the cool ocean air brushing against their faces, carrying the smell of the sea and the sound of the gulls bedding down for the night. Within moments they were at the water's edge, the gentle waves lapping against the pinkish sand. Izzy sighed heavily and turned her face up to Felix. "So how long do you think you'll be gone?" she said quietly.
Felix grasped her hand a bit tighter and looked out over the water. "Mr. Tremayne is right – the political situation is Europe is getting very tense. If a war breaks out…" his voice trailed off. Izzy stared moodily at her stocking feet, her toes buried deep in the sand.
"Father agrees, you know, about the possibility of war in Europe," she replied somberly. "I heard Muriel and him talking about it one evening, after I had gone to bed." She paused, biting her lip. "What will you do if there is a war?"
Felix reached and took her other hand, forcing her to look up into his eyes. "If there is a war, I would hope that I was brave enough to do my duty for my country," he replied slowly. "My home and my family mean everything to me, and if they're not worth fighting for, what is?"
His youthful honesty struck Izzy hard. All her life she had heard the mantra of duty and honour, honour and duty. Never had it made more sense and been more real than when spoken by a young person for whom loyalty to those values could mean life and death. "I'm proud of you, Felix," she replied simply.
Felix swallowed hard. Feeling tears coming to his eyes, he bent his head and touched his lips to hers. They had not kissed often, but both of them could feel the difference in this kiss, this covenant that was binding them, perhaps over the greatest of divides. Izzy slid her hands around his neck and buried her chestnut hair in his chest. Her overwhelming desire to cry was suddenly derailed by the feeling of a corner digging into her cheek. Her gift! Slyly she slid her hand down his chest, and wiggled her fingers inside his vest. If she could just get a few more inches farther...
"Hey!" Felix leapt back abruptly, realizing her intent. "What are you trying to get at?" He looked down into her mischievous face and took a step back. "You really need to learn patience, Miss Pettibone!" he said, a smile crossing his face.
He carefully reached into his pocket and removed the box. Tipping back the lid on the velvet case, he held it out to her. Barely breathing, Izzy reached out and carefully took the box from his hand. Nestled in the velvet was a ring, its golden sheen glinting in the moonlight. It was a signet ring, with a flat surface on the top, in which were engraved two initials: I, F.
"For you," he said quietly. "Something to wear while I'm gone." Izzy looked up at him, with wonderment in her eyes. "I know how much it meant to Felicity to have Gus' ring when he was at sea, so I thought you might like something too."
She gingerly took it out and slid it on the ring finger of her right hand. Felix nodded in satisfaction. "Wear it there," he said solemnly. "When I get back, if you still want to marry me, then you can move it to the other hand. Once we get married, we'll get the K engraved in the middle. It can be your wedding ring too, if you like."
Izzy tilted her hand so that the flat face of the ring lit up like a beacon.
"It's perfect," she sighed contentedly, as she looked up into Felix' face. Their shared smiles lit up the deepening night, as they turned and headed back towards the White Sands.
* * * * *
Izzy carefully closed the door behind her, and turned to wave at Felix as his buggy headed down the main street of Avonlea. She hung her wrap on the hook and headed towards the stairs. Time for bed - it was getting late and she had promised Muriel she would work at the store in the morning. As she turned to take the first step, her eye was caught by the crack of light emanating under the study door – her father was still up. Gingerly, she stepped to the door and pushed it open. Her father sat at his desk, deep in thought, furiously writing. A wave of sentimentality washed over her. Only a few years ago, it had been just the two of them – Arthur in Toronto, Morgan at school, Muriel a name in the school board registry. How many rounds of checkers she had endured for his sake! To this day, she still detested the game. For a wild second, she wished she could turn back the clock and be that little girl again. She looked down at her hand, its new ring feeling oddly heavy around her finger. Her days as a little girl were definitely gone.
Clive suddenly noticed the draft, and looked towards the door, expecting to see Muriel. He had been so engrossed in thought, he had not even heard the buggy pull up or the front door closing. He met her eyes, started as he realized it was Izzy. Once again was struck by her resemblance to her mother. "Izzy you're home!" he said with surprise. I didn't even hear," he trailed off. "Are you all right – you look awfully pale."
Izzy took a step forward, and then stopped. He would see the ring – how could she explain it? She had promised Felix to keep this a secret – it had been she that wanted it so. She bit her lip and looked down at her feet – the grit of the sand still clinging to her stockings suddenly felt unbearable.
Consternation etched on his face, Clive ran his hands through his hair and pushed back the chair. He took two steps across the room and took both of Izzy's hands in his. Her eyes were drawn to her ring, and naturally his followed. He blinked, then quickly met her gaze. He carefully turned the ring around so that he could read the inscription. IF. Didn't make any sense…
Izzy, realizing that the jig was up, took a deep breath. "Our initials," she said quietly. "Isolde and Felix."
Clive blinked hard. "This is an engagement ring?" he said questioningly. Izzy nodded. Clive dropped her hand, and quickly turned away, the agitation and upset clearly reflected in his hunched shoulders.
"Clive? Izzy?" They both whirled at the sound of Muriel's voice in the doorway. Her dark hair hung in a luxurious braid down her back, and she looked in consternation at the tableau in front of her. Clive motioned to Izzy – obediently she held out her hand towards Muriel.
"It appears my daughter is engaged," Clive's voice sounded distant and cold. "To Felix King," he added unnecessarily.
"We won't get married for years yet," Izzy's voice was insistent. "We were going to keep it a secret because we know we're too young now, and with Felix going away and all…." her voice trailed off.
Her father whirled around. "You're damn right you're too young," he barked, ignoring Muriel's quick intake of breath at his blasphemy. "And so is he. Neither of you knows what you're doing with your lives, and I won't have your throw yourself away on someone like him." Clive pushed past the two women, turning at the door. "I won't approve of this, Isolde," he said ominously. "And that King boy had better not show his face around this house, or I'll run him off with a shotgun." In a second he was gone.
Izzy stood as still as stone, her face ashen. She had been so happy only a few moments ago – how did things go so horribly wrong? She looked over at her stepmother, who looked equally shocked. Muriel opened her mouth, thought more wisely of it, and closed it with a snap. She put her arm around Izzy's shaking shoulders, and with a look up the empty stairs, led her slowly into the kitchen.
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