Moonlight At Mistawis - Chapter 16: Moving Day

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

Life shifts quickly for more than one person in this chapter. Olive reaches a breaking point with her family and finds refuge back at Mistawis, while Valancy and Barney set about helping Eliza Gray and her six children move into a safer and happier home.

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 my book, Moonlight at Mistawis. This is my independent, Unofficial, Fan-written sequel to celebrate 100 years since the publishing of Lucy Maud Montgomery's fantastic novel, The Blue Castle, From 1926. As you'll know, If you've already been listening along, We are picking up the story a few years years later after the Blue Castle finishes with Valancy and Barney heading off into the sunset to go traveling around the world. If you've been listening along already to this book, I do hope you're enjoying. Journeying back with me about 100 or so years. To a simpler time. If you haven't yet heard the preceding parts of this book and you'd like to, You can certainly look for the playlist for Moonlight at Mistahwis. It's also available as a paperback and an e-book. And if you haven't yet heard The Blue Castle, You can also look for my playlist for that. So for now, Let's just take a moment here to have a nice deep 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, Nothing else we have to be doing. So we can just relax, Get ourselves comfortable, And enjoy this ongoing reading of Moonlight at Mystaris. Chapter 16, Moving Day. The morning broke in soft gold. The lake stretched out like a sheet of hammered light. And Olive was still at Miss Starwys. She had meant to go the day before, But somehow another night had intervened. Now she stood in the doorway of the main cottage with her sleeves rolled above her elbows, A broom in one hand and a sprig of mint in the other, While Valancy arranged labelled jars along the pantry shelf. Barney came in from the porch with a basket of wood, His hair damp from a dip in the lake. He dumped the basket beside the stove. If we keep her here much longer, Moonlight, She'll become one of us. Olive swiped at him with the broom, Half laughing. Don't be ridiculous, I'm just helping a bit. She went back to sweeping sand from the floorboards, Two tea towels she'd washed that morning flapped from the line outside, And neat bunches of mint hung drying along the porch rail. Her sketchbook, Too, Had grown satisfyingly fuller over the weekend. There were quick charcoal studies of banjo asleep on the dock. Barney bent over a notebook at the porch table, His pipe clamped between his teeth, Valancy laughing over the bread dough, And half a dozen little sketches of the crows in various attitudes of noisy indignation. Even Olive had to admit that They were among the best things she had ever drawn. Barney had glanced through the pages with obvious admiration. Wow, He said. I suppose we really needn't worry about Alan Tierney after all. Olive looked up. Alan Tierney. The famous painter only paints great beauties. Wanted to paint Valancy once, Barney said. I selfishly declined on her behalf. Olive stared at her cousin. Wanted to paint. You! Valancy laughed. It did seem every bit as improbable to me. Tierney had better eyes than most of Deerwood, Apparently. Offered Barney. Valancy coloured. Barney smiled. He closed the sketchbook and handed it back to Olive. And now we've got our own artist anyway. Olive accepted the sketchbook without a word. Her mouth uncharacteristically slack-jawed. Quite without intending to, She found herself studying for Lancey. Instead of the drawings. Her cousin stood beside Barney at the stove, Smiling as she passed him a bowl. She was small and dark, Her short black hair framing that curious little three-cornered face, Her brown eyes slanting upward at the corners. Not beautiful by any rule Olive had ever been taught. And yet. . . Suddenly. . . Only felt that she could understand what the painter might have seen. After the noon meal, Olive repacked her satchel, Rather reluctantly. She lingered by the dock. Eyes darting between the water and the green shore. As if trying to commit it all again to memory. Over on the mainland, The three of them set off along the winding road towards Deerwood. Roof folded back as usual, Warm air breezing past them. The scent of pine and new hay filled the air. And Olive's scarf tugged loose as the road unwound ahead. They were halfway to town when a black motor car came roaring towards them. Olive froze. That's father's car, She cried, Eyes widening. Too late to turn, Barney responded, Hands steady on the wheel. Olive ducked down. But the car was already upon them. It's a driver sitting bolt upright, Face stern under his tightly fitted straw hat. Valancy, In the passenger seat beside Barney, Lifted a hand in a polite wave. Uncle Wellington's head jerked slightly as his eyes flicked from her to the car's interior. His face tightening in a shocked look as they passed. Whether he had glimpsed Olive or not, None of them could tell. Olive's heart thudded against her ribs as the road unwound behind them. She sat up slowly, Still pale, Giddy with anxiety. Oh. Goodness. If he saw me. There's sure to be a scene when I get home. For Lance's expression softened. Maybe he didn't notice. Oh, He notices everything, Olive said with a shaky laugh. She wrung her hands in her lap. Eyes fixed on the road ahead. Barney eased the car to the side of the road on the edge of town, Set the brake and stepped out, Coming around to the back to swing the door open and offer a steadying hand. Right to us, Olive, He said, As she gathered her satchel. And remember. . . You can always come back to Mastowis. She gave them both a quick, Tight smile, Put her hand briefly in his to step down, Then set off along the shaded road towards town, The sunlight and shadows chasing over her as she went. Barney got back behind the wheel. She'll be alright, " he said as they pulled away. The car rattled away, Olive's slim figure already hidden behind the dip in the road. Valancy looked back only once before turning forward again, Hands clasped tightly in her lap. They were quiet, The motor's steady thrum filling the silence. I don't like leaving her like that, " Valancy said at last. Barney glanced sideways at her. Neither do I. They drove on along the pine-scented roads until the lake glimmered into view again between the trees. The little cottage at the point waited, Pale and small among the dark pines, Like a bird's nest tucked in the branches. All that afternoon, They worked at the final touches, Shifting bedsteads and tables into place, Scrubbing away the last paint flecks and carrying in simple furniture scavenged from lofts and attics. The rooms grew slowly into a home, Airy and spare, Yet welcoming. Valancy joyfully unfolded some of the endless quilts she had stitched in the long colourless years back at her mother's house. And was surprised at how cheerfully they bloomed here when spread across the narrow beds or folded over a chair. She laid a soft cloth across the table, Set out a few mismatched but dear cups and plates rescued from forgotten cupboards, And tossed a pair of plump pillows into the corner by the hearth. With every small, Homely touch, The house seemed less like an empty room. Long-forgotten shell, And more light. And inviting. Quiet. Refuge. Mrs Grey and the children won't know what to think! Valancy said, Pausing to wipe her brow. After that. Dreadful packing house. Yes, Anything will seem like a palace after that packing house, Barney said grimly. He set the last chair beside the kitchen table and stood back. But this! This is for them now. A place that doesn't smell of fish guts. And a roof that keeps out the rain. By late afternoon, The work was done and they started back into Dearwood. The church bell was just striking five as they left the car in a discreet back lane and went around to the vestry door. Reverend Morrison met them with a grave smile, His clerical black coat flapping lightly in the warm breeze. I've spoken to Mrs Grey, He said quietly. She and the children are ready. Best we keep it simple. Tonight, If it suits, Barney nodded. We can manage it. A few trips will do the trick. They were standing in the narrow lane behind the church, Its cobbles dusty in the late afternoon heat, When footsteps came clattering round from the main street. A figure rushed around the corner, Skirts askew, Hair falling loose from its pins. Olive. She stopped dead at the sight of them. Plainly as astonished to see them as they were to see her. Her face was blotched with tears. Her satchel still in hand. How? I knew it, She gasped. I knew there was something. This is about that grey widow, Isn't it? I knew there was something going on. Valancy reached out for her at once. Never mind us. Olive. What happened? What's wrong? But Olive was already crumbling. Her lips trembled. Her breath hitched and the words poured out between sobs. They were waiting for me. Demanding to know where I'd been. What I'd been doing with you two. Calling you names. Saying I was disgracing myself. I couldn't bear it for Lancey! I couldn't! I'm 30 years old, For goodness sake. But they talk as if. . . I were a wayward little wretched child sneaking out the window. Her voice broke and she clutched Valancy's hands as if for dear life. I just. . . Took my bag and. . . Walked right out again. I couldn't stand another minute of it! Oh, Valancy. . . What am I to do? Now? She sniffled miserably. But lancy drew her gently aside, Away from barney and the reverend. Oh Olive, Valancy murmured, Folding her against her shoulder. Come back with us. Windward is there. You can stay as long as you need. Olive gave a great. . . Shuddering sobs. And clung to her. Face buried against Valancy's shoulder. For a long moment. Neither moved. Only the church bell tolled faintly in the distance. Barney and Reverend Morrison exchanged a glance but continued their low discussion of the Grey family, Leaving the two women to themselves. At last, Olive lifted her head, Eyes swollen and lips trembling. Do you mean it? Truly. You'll let me stay? Tschüss! A few days so I can think. Of course, Valancy said firmly, As long as you need. You are more than welcome there with us. Olive gave a strangled laugh. That turned to tears again. And hugged her tightly. Over her shoulder, Balancy met Barney's gaze. His eyes softened, And he gave the smallest nod. Olive wiped at her cheeks and blew her nose, Her breath still catching slightly. As Barney clapped his hands together. Well. Seems like it's the day for all of us to be coming clean. Yes, Olive, We've been helping get a new place ready for Eliza Gray and her six children. And we're about to help move them over there tonight, If you must know. Olive's eyes went wide. She looked from Barney to Valancy. Then gave a watery little laugh and dabbed again at her eyes. Well now, It sounds like you're coming right back to the island with us again, Said Barney. First though, We've got to help the greys move. If you want to help, Hop in the car. Or if you prefer, I'm sure the good reverend wouldn't mind you staying in the office here for a bit while we sort everything. Olive hesitated. Glancing down at her muddied shoes. I should probably get cleaned up first, " she murmured. Then, After a breath, Put it down. I want to help. I do. Belancy stepped closer, Resting her hands lightly on Olive's arms. All right then, She said gently. Come inside and enjoy. We'll get you straightened out a bit. Inside, Balanci guided Olive to the washroom and found her a towel and a basin of water. Olive scrubbed at her hands and face. There, Valancy said after a while. Better? Much. Olive picked up her satchel. Thank you. A short while later, They were driving towards the harbour. Barney at the wheel, Valancy beside him, And Olive in the back. The old fish packing house, Where Eliza and the children had been living, Came into view at the edge of the harbour. It's grey boards weathered and the smell of brine and fish heavy in the air. Eliza stood outside with the children, Thin and tired looking, In a faded dress. Her hair pinned up, Anyhow. Around them was a small collection of crates, Baskets, And bundled possessions. Goodness, Olive said quietly. They climbed out and began to work. Barney bent to take one end of the first crate. One of the older boys stepped forwards to take the other. Barney looked up. Tom. For a second, The boy looked furtive, Glancing at his mother. Afternoon time, Barney said breezily, As casually as though their previous meeting had involved nothing more remarkable than commentary on the weather. Tom hesitated. Afternoon Mr Redfern. Barney nodded towards the crate. Think you can manage this one with me? Tom's shoulders straightened. I can. I thought so. Together, They lifted it. Balanci, Passing with Olive towards the younger children, Caught Barney's eye for the briefest moment and smiled. Olive. Knelt beside two of the smallest children and began folding loose clothes into a basket. One little girl watched her solemnly. Thank you. She murmured. Olive looked up. Oh, It's. . . Nothing, Dear. Shall we put this in too? The girl handed her a small rag doll. Throughout the evening, They made several trips back and forth. Barney carried the heaviest crates, While Valancy and Olive gathered bedding, Clothes, Cooking things, And the children's smaller treasures. Before long, Olive's sleeves were dusty and her fingers reddened from the rough ropes. A small boy came staggering towards the car with a blanketed bundle nearly as large as himself. Well done, Olive called. You're very strong to hold that so steady. The child's face lit up. Almost ready, Barney called from the car. Let's get the last of these things over. By the time the final crate was loaded, The sun was dipping lower, Painting the harbour in molten gold and crimson. The new cottage awaited. Its pale clapboards and open windows offering a quiet promise of home. Eliza stood on the small porch, Hands clasped in front of her, Watching as the car rolled up again. She was smiling. Her eyes glistening. As her children scramble to help carry their final possessions inside. Olive followed Valanci and Barney, Carrying a small bundle of linens. Inside, The cottage was fresh, Airy and bright. The rooms began to breathe with life and warmth. Each small touch softening the raw edges of the bare walls. Valancy found Olive straightening one of the pillows on a narrow bed. You look as though you've been unloading freight trains all afternoon, She said. Olive looked down at her dusty dress and reddened hands. I rather feel. . . Sorry. I rather feel as though I have. " Valancy smiled. You were splendid. Olive looked around the little room. I'm. . . Glad I came. So am I. Barney came through the door with the last bundle. And dropped it beside the table with a grunt. That's the lot. Tom appeared behind him with another empty crate tucked under one arm. Anything else, Mr Redfern? Barney turned and considered him. You looking for work? Tom's expression sharpened. Yes, Sir. I can usually use an extra pair of hands at the mainland landing on Saturday mornings. Carrying parcels, Loading the boat, That sort of thing. Tom glanced out the window towards his mother. If she says yes, Barney added, She will. All right, Then. I pay by the hour. Tom nodded gravely. Alright. Saturday then. Saturday. The children clambered up and down the porch steps, Chattering with delight. Eliza gave a deep sigh. Grateful. Sigh. Her hands pressed together. I don't know how to thank you all enough, " she said, Her voice thick with relief. Her eyes moved from Barney to Valancy. I understand now. It was you two. Helping. From the very beginning. Bring in those baskets. Carrying loads. Fixing things that I could never manage. I never knew who it was. Helping me along the way. And now I see. It was you! May God bless you all as you've blessed me and my children. We are so very grateful. Barney gave a modest shrug, His eyes soft. Glad to help. You, And these little ones, Deserve it. Eliza's voice lifted gently. Come here, Children. Stand together. We must thank those who have helped us so kindly. The little ones shuffled together on the porch, Some holding hands, Some clutching toys, Faces wide-eyed. Now, All together, Children, Eliza encouraged, Her own smile tremulous. Thank you, They called, Voices ringing in unison. A little uneven, But full of sincerity. Barney ducked his head. Suddenly very interested in fastening the last empty crate to the car. As they drove away, The children crowded along the port rail, Waving and calling after them. Until the cottage disappeared behind the trees. For a little while. Nobody in the car said anything. Then Barney cleared his throat. Well. . . I think that went rather well. But Lancey smiled. So do I. Barney glanced at her and smiled back.