Moonlight At Mistawis - Chapter 14: The Clear Marble

Welcome to Chapter Fourteen of 'Moonlight at Mistawis', my independent, unofficial sequel to L. M. Montgomery's beloved 1926 novel 'The Blue Castle'.

Summer has reached Mistawis in full abundance and Olive is becoming increasingly at ease there. Amid preserving, sketching and long island evenings, she reveals a forgotten possibility from her past - while a small clear marble becomes an unexpected token of the person she may yet become...

You do not need to have read or listened to 'The Blue Castle' first. 'Moonlight at Mistawis' can also be enjoyed as a standalone story.

Settle in, get comfortable, and enjoy this gentle literary sleep story, read aloud by the author.

Transcript

Hello there, Thank you so much for joining me for this continued reading of Moonlight at Misdarwis. This is my unofficial fan-written sequel to celebrate a hundred years since the publishing of The Blue Castle, The fantastic quaint old novel from 1926 from Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery. The Blue Castle came further towards the end of Montgomery's writing career, And she never wrote a sequel. So this is my attempt at offering a sequel a hundred years later. I do hope you've been enjoying this story so far, If you've been listening along. With this chapter, Number 14, We will actually be halfway through this book, Believe it or not. If you haven't yet heard the preceding parts, And you'd like to, You can certainly look for the playlist for Moonlight at Miss Star Wars. You can also find my playlist on here for the Blue Castle and listen to that all the way through too if you like. But for now, Let's just take a moment here to have a nice deep breath. Exhale. Letting go of the day. Letting go of whichever baggage we might be bringing along with us into this moment. For right now, There's nowhere else we have to go and nothing else we have to be doing. So we can just relax, Get ourselves comfortable, And enjoy the next installment of Moonlight at Miss Darwis. Chapter 14 The Clear Marble Mastawis had reached its lush crescendo. Wildflowers tossed their bright heads across the open spaces near the cabin. Bees hovered lazily in the sun-thick air. And the trees wore their green with confidence now, No longer tentative with spring's caution. It was the season of abundance. In the garden, Valancy crouched with a chipped enamel bowl resting against one hip, Sorting out the best cucumbers for pickling. The air smelled of dill, Warm earth and crushed raspberry leaves. Inside the kitchen held the good chaos of a preserving day. Clean jars glinting on the table, Folded tea towels ready, And the back door open wide to let in the breeze. Barney was somewhere along the north trail, Having gone out to scout a place to string up a hammock. Nip and Tuck had chased after him with loud, Indignant commentary, While Banjo lay lazily stretched on the windowsill, Far too dignified to follow. Olive was coming back. She'd written to say she'd come for two nights this time. And had arranged a lift to the dock. When the bell rang, Shortly before eleven, Valancy rinsed the garden earth from her hands and went down to fetch her. Now Olive was stepping out of the canoe, Curls escaping under a wide straw hat, Skirts hitched up just enough to show sturdy brown boots, A small satchel swung from her shoulder, And a second bag bumped against her knees as she clambered ashore. I brought chutney, " Olive said cheerfully, Hoisting her bag as she stepped onto the rocks. And if anything furry scuttles across the floor in the night, I'm sleeping on your porch chair. Valancy laughed as she tied up the canoe. Barney swears the mice have been evicted. Though one of the cats might come and curl up by your feet. They walked together up the slope, Olive glancing around at the riot of summer bloom. It's even more beautiful than last time, She said softly. I hadn't realised how quickly the island shifts its colours. It does, Said Valancy. Almost overnight sometimes. I blink and something new is blooming. Valancy had helped Olive settle her bags into Windward, The tiny one-room cabin just off the main path. It had changed a little since her previous visit, Now with a narrow shelf above the bed for books or a sketchpad, And a small vase of dried wildflowers that Valancy had left there, Tucked beside the window, Where the breeze could still stir them faintly. There was a single upright chair beside the door, And Olive had brought a tin lantern to hang from the low beam. It wasn't luxurious, But it was hers for as long as she chose to visit. Back in the main house, The kitchen was warm with the scent of vinegar and sugar. Olive helped slice cucumbers for the pickling jars, While Valancy sterilised lids. They worked companionably, Hands moving in rhythm. A few jars in, Barney returned, Sun-hatted and sweat-dusted, And dropped a small bag on the table. A gift from your admirer, He said, Fishing something small out of the bag. Mine? Lancey blinked. With a flourish, He produced a small green marble. One smoother sea glass with a single black feather tucked beside it. The lancy laughed in delight. From nip or tuck. Hard to say, Barney shrugged. They don't sign their work. They've brought other gifts, Too, " Valancy told Olive. Mostly stones. Once, A piece of string. Olive took the marble and held it up to the light. I had one just like this when I was little. I lost it down a grate on Peel Street. Barney raised an eyebrow. Clearly they've been combing the municipal drainage system. Balancy and Olive both burst out laughing. That night, As the sun slipped down and fireflies winked at the treeline, They sat on the porch with a heel of bread. A half-finished jar of blackcurrant jam. And a little dish of olives. The olives were from one of the last tins Valancy and Barney had brought back from their travels, And still tasted to Valancy of hot Mediterranean afternoons. She nodded towards the dish. Pass me an olive, Barney. Barney looked gravely from the plate to olive. Which one? Olive gave him a cool look. The one less likely to throw something at you. Ah, Said Barney. That narrows it down. Valancy laughed. Barney selected one with exaggerated care and dropped it into her waiting hand. Olive reached for her glass with great dignity. Whatever became of Edward Beck, The widower with nine children, And that when on his forehead? Valancy asked, Tearing off a piece of bread. Olive raised an eyebrow. Edward Beck? Oh. He remarried in spring. To a woman from the Presbyterian church. She's surely got her hands full with those nine children now. Barney snorted. Well, Nine kids and a win. Who could resist? Olive grinned. Cheeks pink. You'll love this. Cousin Georgiana tried to make a match of us last winter. I was. . . Flattered, Mostly, But Lancey shook her head laughing. Goodness! I thought I was the only victim of cousin Georgiana's Beck matchmaking service. But I was already married to Barney by then, So she was rather too late. Barney smirked. Lucky for me! They all laughed. The sound, Light and easy, Like the warm summer night around them. I got a letter from Cousin Georgiana actually just the other day. Balancy added. She said she spotted you from a distance in Deerwood, Olive. Said you looked much jollier than usual, Though she couldn't imagine why. Olive laughed. Well, Heaven forbid I look happy without the family's permission. Her fingers had begun worrying at the edge of her napkin. There's something I've never told you. She said, After a moment. Valancy glanced at her. A few years ago. I won. A scholarship. To the art school in Toronto. Balancy stared. You did? Olive flushed. An art scholarship. For Lancey stopped herself. Olive? I never knew. No. Did anyone? Mother and father. Cecil a few others perhaps. Valancy sat back. Astonished! All those years. Aunt Wellington had faithfully reported about Olive's dresses, Parties, Admirers and Cecil's latest devoted attentions. And yet, Never once had there been a word about this. Why on earth was that kept so quiet? Olive gave a small, Humorless smile. Mother didn't consider it quite the sort of accomplishment One advertised. Barney made a sound under his breath. For Lancey was still trying to fit this astonishing new piece of information into the olive she had always known. And You didn't go? " she asked. Olive looked down at her hands. Cecil thought. It was foolish. Impractical. He said, I needed to be sensible. Balancy's eyebrows went up. Of course! Olive gave a startled little laugh, But it vanished quickly. I let him persuade me. I told myself he knew what was best for me. She swallowed. Sometimes I wonder whether we both tried to mould each other into something we weren't. If I'd been braver. Perhaps things would have been different. Barney, Who had been unusually quiet, Tipped his chair back a fraction. What happened to the scholarship? I gave it up. No, I mean. . . What about now? Could you use it now? Olive blinked. I. . . Don't know. Worth finding out, Barney said simply. Olive looked from him to Valancy. You really think so? I think, Said Valancy. I'm still trying to get over the fact. That Aunt Wellington concealed an entire art scholarship while telling Dearwood all about your latest chiffon dresses. Olive stirred at her. She laughed. A real laugh this time. Though there were tears in her eyes. They were very good chiffon dresses. I'm sure they were magnificent. Olive dabbed quickly at her eyes. I suppose I could inquire about the scholarship. Balanci handed her a clean handkerchief. I suppose you could. A loon called from somewhere across the lake, Its plaintive cry trailing over the water. Barney stirred, Then glanced towards Valancy. I ran into Roaring Abel over in Port Lawrence this morning. Balancy looked up. How was he? Talkative, Barney said, Wiry as ever, But softer somehow. He asked if we'd come up to the graveside in a couple of days. It's almost Sissy's anniversary. Valancy nodded, Her expression tender. Of course. End of June. I hadn't realised it was so close. He said he doesn't want a crowd, Barney continued, Just us. Quiet. He's been tending the spot, Said the violets he planted have come in nicely. No one spoke for a moment. A moth drifted lazily near the lantern, Brushing its wings against the glass. Of course we'll go. He nodded, And they sat there together. The evening deepening around them. After a while, Olive tilted her head. I didn't realise you went over to the mainland so often, Barney. Barney gave a small shrug. When there's reason. Balancy's eyes held a flicker of amusement. And there often is. Yesterday it was roofing nails, A tub of molasses, And a three-legged stool. He insisted had character. It did emphasize Barney. Olive studied them a moment, Eyes lingering. Aunt Alberta said. She's almost sure. She saw you at the Presbyterian church last Thursday. Talking to Reverend Morrison. Barney didn't blink. She's got sharp eyes. I thought so too, Olive murmured, But there was a glint behind it. Not quite teasing, Not quite accusing, Just thoughtful. Barney rose first, Stretching his arms overhead. I'll go batten things down. Balancy stood too, And Olive followed suit, A little reluctantly. Barney gave Olive a nod. Fair sailing to Windward, Miss Stirling. Don't let the mosquito steal your hat, Said Valancy. I'll do my best, " Olive said with a smile as she stepped onto the dusky path. Good night! They watched her go. Her white shawl catching glimmers of lantern light as she walked between the trees. Somewhere near the shore. Ellune called once more and then went quiet. Olive ducked inside the little cabin and lit the lamp with the stubby match Barney had left by the door. The place was tidy, Spare, Sweetly humble. She'd found homes for her sketchbook and washbag earlier, And Valancy had made up the bed with fresh linens that smelled faintly of lavender. She turned to place her shawl over the chair. And paused. Something was lying on the windowsill, Just inside the open window. She frowned and stepped closer. It was a marble! Like the other one Barney had produced earlier. But unlike that one, This one was clear. Perfectly transparent, Catching the lamplight and splitting it delicately into soft prisms. She picked it up and held it in her palm. Oddly move. There was no note. Of course not! Just this charming little token itself. Waiting quietly for her. Olive glanced towards the dark branches beyond the window. But nothing stood there. She sat on the edge of the bed. And turned the little treasure over in her fingers. It seemed lighter than the green one, Plainer. And yet Somehow not. She couldn't explain the feeling it gave her. Not quite joy, Not quite ache. Just recognition. Outside, A breeze slipped through the branches. The night smelled of pine and wild mint. Olive stood and crossed to the doorway, Her hand still curled around the precious marble. She stepped out barefoot into the cool grass and walked slowly down to the water's edge. The full moon sat like a great silver coin on the lake. Not quite real. And yet so luminously present. That she caught her breath. She held the marble up to it, Turning it in her fingers. The moonlight passed cleanly through. Back at the cabin, Barney was drawing the last of the mugs while Valancy adjusted the curtains for evening. She's beginning to suspect us, You know, " Valancy said. Barney looked over. About Eliza Gray? She mentioned that Aunt Alberta thought she saw you at the church last Thursday. Barney made a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a grunt. Well, I was. No shame in helping folks, He said simply. You're just cross. She might find us out. " Valancy laughed, Then sighed. I suppose. I like imagining us as secret benefactors. Fairy godparents or something. Wow. I don't wear wings, He said. But you can call yourself whatever you like. She glanced towards the window again. Then touched his arm. Barney. Down by the shore. Pale figure stood near the water. Barefoot. In her nightgown. A shawl slipped over her shoulders. She held up something small in her fingers. Turning it gently towards the sky. Barney came to stand beside Valancy. After a moment, He reached for her hand. They watched as Olive turned the marble slowly. In the Moonlight.