Sara was leaving today, heading for Montreal to visit with her Nanny Louisa. The month that she had spent in Avonlea had flown – Felicity sighed contentedly, if slightly sadly. It would be lonely with Sara gone again – for the few weeks they had been together, it was almost as if she had never left. Frowning slightly, Felicity realized that really, she had no close girlfriends in Avonlea anymore. Colleen Pritchard was gone to a colder, narrower home, and while she really enjoyed Mavis Pritchard's company, there was more of a chummy friendship there than a kindred bond. Clemmie Ray, with whom she had been such close friends as a child, was married now, the mother of three children already, and living in Summerside. Sara would soon be back in Europe, and Aunt Olivia was busy planning her relocation to England. Even Felix was leaving – another week and a half and he too would be gone. Suddenly the upcoming fall and Christmas season looked just a bit bleaker.
Her morose reverie was broken by the sound of the front door closing softly behind her. Expecting one of the children, Felicity turned with a soft rebuke ready on her lips. Her face broke into a smile as she saw Gus carefully making his way across the verandah. Sitting in the chair next to her, he smiled and reached over to take her hand. "You're up early today, Felicity," he said quietly.
They both chimed in, "Just like everyday!" and laughed softly together. They settled back into a comfortable silence, looking out across the yard.
"Sara leaves today," Gus commented. Felicity nodded, and bit her lip against the tears. "You're goin' to miss her, aren't ya?" he continued, looking over at his wife.
In the gloom of the morning mist, she looked like an apparition to his imperfect eyes. Her ghostly image turned towards him. "Sara, and Aunt Olivia, and even Felix!" she sighed. "I think Avonlea is going to be awfully lonely in a month or so."
Gus reached out his hand carefully, feeling for her delicate cheekbones. Laying his rough hand on her face, his eyes met hers. "You've still got yer family," he said, "and me, and the children."
Felicity covered his hand with her small one and slid it until it met her mouth. She kissed his fingers softly, and he felt her warm breath as she sighed. "You're right, Gus," she said decisively. "I'm moping. I just wish that Sara could stay – I miss having a close girlfriend…" Her voice trailed off. Taking a deep breath, she squared up her shoulders, and picked up her chin. "But Cecily is still here, and with family, you're never alone."
At this, Gus dropped his hands back into his lap, and looked away, his face suddenly serious. "That's the truth, Felicity," he replied, his voice tinged with sadness.
Now it was Felicity's turn to take his hand in hers. "Gus, what is it?" she asked, concern etched on her face.
For a long moment, he did not reply, continuing his scowling contemplation of the sun rising behind the dark pines and almost leafless trees. "I was hopin' I woulda heard from Cap'n Crane by now," he finally replied, pulling his hand from hers. "We wrote him before the wedding, and no answer yet. I know yer family is my family now, but I was really hopin'…"
Felicity flinched at the pain in his voice, and pulled herself out of her chair. Quietly, she slid into his lap, forcing him to put his arms around her. Laying her head on top of his, she close not to answer, but rather, let the sounds of the birds, the breeze, and the sleeping children behind them chase the demons from his aching soul.
* * * * *
Rose Cottage was pandemonium. Sara was hastily gulping a cup of tea as she surveyed the suitcases, hat boxes, and carpetbags that covered the floor of her old room. Behind her, Aunt Hetty worriedly looked the mess, mentally trying to fit the riot of bags into the King buggy. She sighed, failing miserably at the seemingly impossible task. A sudden knock downstairs was followed with a cheery "Hello there!" Alec had arrived.
His eyes grew wide at the sight of all the cases, but with much wiggling and effort, he and Felix managed to fit them all into the buggy. Felix and Sara jumped happily onto the tail of the wagon, while Hetty squeezed into the front seat with Alec. Soon, the procession was arriving at the station, where the multitudes of bags were somehow unloaded and stacked on the platform.
Felicity and Gus arrived, walking, from the Foundling Home. Felicity's eyes were suspiciously damp, but she managed to paste a cheery smile on her face. Olivia, Jasper, and the children were already there, having taken the chance at the station to purchase their own tickets for their upcoming trip to England. They would be leaving in another month. Hetty had wanted Olivia to stay for Christmas, but Jasper's leave was already being extended for an additional two months to accommodate his moving his family, so a November departure it had to be.
Sara surveyed her King relations and her delicate, almost child-like face lit up with a beautiful smile. "I had such a wonderful time!" she exclaimed, "and I know I am going to miss you all so terribly. Next time I won't stay away so long!"
As it had been the month before when Felicity and Gus left for their honeymoon, the round of hugs and good-byes began. After hurried assurances that she would write to all and visit the next year for sure, Sara carefully boarded the train, her elegant dress gathered up in her tiny hand. She turned, and called out to Olivia. "You'll let me know your address?" she cried.
Olivia nodded, afraid to open her mouth for fear she would begin to bawl. "I can come and visit you in London!" At this thought, Olivia smiled, despite her trembling lips.
The whistle blew and Sara hurried inside the car, clutching at her feathered hat. The window framed her perfectly, as the train slowly pulled out of the station. Felix, jumping up and down so as to keep seeing the train, yelled out at the retreating cars. "I'll drop by when I'm in the neighbourhood, Sara!" His family around him began to laugh and slowly disperse.
Suddenly, from down the path that led back to Avonlea, a frantic figure came running, her golden blonde hair pulled from its knot on the back of her head. Janet looked at her youngest daughter with alarm. "Cecily – what's the matter?" she cried, worry giving her voice an unusual shrillness.
Cecily struggled to catch her breath as she waved a piece of paper in her hand in frustration at the now tiny train far down the tracks. "I missed Sara – darn it all!" she gasped raggedly. "I had a cable for her!"
Felix reached over and took the hastily scrawled page. "'Acknowledge letter. Thrilled. Will arrive Dec 10. E.C.'," he read aloud to the curious crowd.
"E. C. – who's that?" Felicity asked, as Felix's face went white, then an odd shade of red.
"Haven't a clue, " he said hastily, handing the page back to Cecily. "I think you should forward it to her in Montreal. This could have something to do with her school."
He turned quickly and headed back towards the village, his hands stuck firmly in his pockets. Confused, Cecily turned to her mother, who shrugged unhelpfully. "It's an idea, dear," Janet said slowly, as Cecily stuffed the page into her pocket and helped her mother into the buggy.
* * * * *
Felix paused briefly at the crossroads, looking longingly towards the shore road and the rose-tinted beach that never failed to calm his nerves and capture his imagination. Only a month since Felicity's marriage, and his whole life was a topsy-turvy mess. His hand raked roughly through his hair, and he kicked at the rocks that lay beside the dirt road.
Plunging his hand back into his pocket, he pulled out a tattered letter. He'd had it only a week, but had read it a thousand times. It was from Izzy, now forbidden to see him by her outraged father. She expressed her anger and sadness, but it was the final paragraph that never failed to capture his heart and cause his stomach to lurch in a most un-King-like fashion.
I know that my place is with you in the years to come. I will do my best to see you off, but can make no guarantees. I love you with all my heart and remain,Yours always, Izzy
Upon receiving her letter, delivered by the faithful Becky Lester, Felix had been enraged. After taking out his anger heaving hay and muck around the stalls of the King barn for a couple of hours, he had calmed down. Clive Pettibone was probably right to be angry. Felix had not asked his permission to marry Izzy, and he knew that he should have. But it didn't make sense to ask someone's permission to marry a woman like Izzy – she was independent, she knew her own mind, she made her own decisions – just like her father.
Carefully replacing the letter in his pocket, Felix contemplated his choices. He alone in Avonlea knew who the mysterious E. C. of the cable was. What to do? With Sara gone, Felix began to question the wisdom of their contacting Ezekiel Crane without talking to Gus and Felicity first. And now the old sea captain was coming back to Avonlea! Groaning inwardly, Felix turned and set off back towards the King Farm. Only ten days more, and he would be the one to get on the train, and leave all this behind him.
Izzy sighed and let go of the bedroom curtain that she had been holding back. She sat down in her desk chair and eyed the book she had been reading. Shakespeare – King Lear. The story of a man and his daughters. The hatred, the betrayal, the death.
Since her confrontation with her father a week ago, Izzy had stayed mainly in her room, desperately trying to determine her next move. She emerged to eat when her father was not home; when he was, Muriel discreetly sent a tray up to her room. Clive remained locked in his anger and hurt; Muriel's head ached constantly with the stress of walking on eggshells around the tension. Izzy found her appetite was failing her, and the bloom in her cheeks began to fade. She rarely dressed, preferring to stay in her nightshirt and dressing gown. A couple of times she had looked out her bedroom window to see Felix down the street, staring forlornly at her window. It was all she could do not to run out into the street after him.
She wrote long passionate letters – to Felix, to her dead mother, to her brothers. Some she burnt on the lamp in her room. Some she actually mailed. Others she simply left on her desk and re-read when she was numb from thinking.
She had to leave. After all the times she had berated Arthur for staying away from their family, she too was being driven out. She felt raw with betrayal – she had always been her father's best friend. Once he had said she was the most important person in his life. And she had believed him. Now, she knew better. He was the most important person in his life. One look at what he was putting Muriel through told you that he didn't even care about her feelings. Izzy felt sick with despair. What could she do? Where could she go?
Twice she wrote Felix and begged him to marry her before he left, as he had originally wished. That way, she would have a home with the Kings, who definitely would have the room to take her in. Both times, she destroyed the letters, knowing that marrying to simply get away from her father was not the right thing to do. If only she had someone to talk to! Muriel was out of the question – she was already suffering enough and she could not ask her to choose between her husband and her stepdaughter. She was forbidden to go near the King Farm, so that eliminated Cecily. Izzy groaned and lay her head on top of her open Shakespeare.
A soft knock disturbed her machinations, and she slowly rose and moved to her bedroom door. Opening the door a crack, she saw Muriel's face, lined with worry. Pulling the door open, she attempted a smile and stepped back to allow her stepmother to enter the room. "How are you doing, dear?" Muriel asked quietly, noting with concern the unmade bed, the stack of pages on the desk, Izzy's thinness.
"As well as can be expected under the circumstances," Izzy replied slowly. "Is Father home?" Muriel shook her head. "Good, then I might go out and mail some letters."
She turned towards her wardrobe. Muriel started. "Oh, that reminds me," she said, "I have a couple for you." She handed the posts to Izzy, who flipped them over to see the sender. "I think one's from Arthur," the older woman continued.
Izzy nodded in agreement, and ripped open the letter. She sat carefully on the edge of her bed, engrossed in the closely written pages. Muriel continued to look at her, her forehead creasing. Slowly she left the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Within a few minutes, Izzy had devoured the letter, which was indeed from her oldest brother. She turned her face up to the fall sunlight shining through the lace of her bedroom curtain, resolve crossed her young face as she squared her shoulders.
"I do believe I shall do that, Arthur Pettibone," she murmured quietly as she carefully folded the letter in her hand.
* * * * *
Felicity was struggling to get luncheon on the table while Gus rounded up the last of the boys. Soon the huge kitchen of the Foundling Home was bustling with the children, who climbed eagerly into their seats. Gus carefully lowered himself into his chair, as his wife placed the last of the dishes on the large table. Taking her place finally, she looked up at her husband, an expectant hush settling over the boisterous group. "Gus?" she said quietly.
"For what we are about to receive, may the Lord make us truly thankful," Gus said quickly, knowing that long elaborate Gaelic graces did not work well with this crowd.
At a nod from Felicity, the children's arms flung out, dishing up large portions of the chicken and potatoes. Gus made one, two, no, three attempts to get one of the dishes to stop at his place, to no avail. Felicity was close to bursting out into laughter when a sharp knock at the front door caused her to look up in consternation. The children, busy devouring their lunches, did not notice. Gus motioned her towards the door, but Felicity had already risen and removed her apron.
She opened the door to a pathetic site. Izzy Pettibone stood on her stoop. Her normally lustrous hair was hastily braided and hung down her back. She wore an old dress, something that one might use to scrub the kitchen floor. Over this ragged attire, she had thrown an old wrap, about three sizes too small. Her small face was white and looked haggard. Felicity gasped. "Izzy! Come in!" she stepped aside and fairly pulled the younger woman into the foyer. "My goodness, what happened?"
Izzy hastily removed her shawl and looked towards the kitchen, where the din continued unabated. "Felicity, I'm sorry for barging in on you like this…" Felicity looked over her shoulder at the kitchen door and then firmly grasped Izzy's elbow.
"Don't worry about it," she replied decisively. "Let's go sit the parlour, and I'll get us a cup of tea."
Within moments, Izzy was seated in a large chair in the front room, a steaming cup in her hand. At Felicity's inquiring glance, Izzy hesitated, took a deep breath and began. "I'm here on Arthur's advice," she said quietly. "I have an idea, and he thought you would be a good person to talk it over with."
Felicity, knowing better than to question the train of events leading to that piece of sage wisdom, kept her mouth shut and nodded understandingly. "I can't stay in Avonlea any longer," Izzy said slowly. "I've decided go to school in Halifax, Dalhousie in fact. Business." Felicity's mouth fell open with surprise as Izzy continued. "You've been there, you're a woman – what do you think?"
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