Hello there,
Thank you so much for joining me for this continued reading of Moonlight at Mystarwis.
This is my unofficial fan-written sequel to celebrate a hundred years since the publishing of The Blue Castle,
Lucy Maud Montgomery's beloved novel from 1926.
Lucy Maud Montgomery's most famous book was actually her debut novel,
Anne of Green Gables,
Which was from 1908.
The Blue Castle therefore came.
Long time after that,
18 years later in 1926,
And in fact the Blue Castle was published just 16 years before Lucy Maud Montgomery died.
So the Blue Castle did come much later on in her writing career and I do believe I heard at one point that she said if she had to choose a favourite out of all of the books she had written this might be it.
The Blue Blue Castle,
And she never wrote a sequel.
So here we are,
A hundred years later,
And I tried my hand at writing a sequel.
I do hope you're enjoying it,
If you've been listening along so far.
If you haven't yet heard the preceding chapters,
And you'd like to,
You can certainly look for the playlist for Moonlight at Miss Starwiss,
And you'll find all of the parts there in order.
And you can also hear my recording of the Blue Castle here too,
If you haven't heard that before or if you'd like a refresher.
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 and nothing else we have to be doing.
So we can just relax,
Get ourselves comfortable and enjoy the next installment of Moonlight at Mystawis.
Chapter 20 The Road Up Back The idea was Barney's.
They were eating supper on the porch one warm August evening,
While Banjo stalked moths with more enthusiasm than success,
And good luck slept through the proceedings.
A bat flickered overhead.
Barney set down his coffee cup.
We should go see Abel.
Valanci looked up.
Able.
We haven't been to his place since we got back.
The suggestion appealed to Valancy immediately.
It had been years since she had been to Abel's house.
She had seen Abel many times since returning from their travels,
But somehow they had never yet made the journey out to his place.
I'd like that.
Across the porch,
Olive looked up abruptly from the sketchbook balanced on her knees.
You're not expecting me to come too,
Are you?
" Barney regarded her with exaggerated surprise.
Wow.
Olive!
The enthusiasm in your voice is deeply touching.
Valancy laughed.
Able likes you.
That is exactly what worries me.
Olive closed her sketchbook and shook her head.
I shall remain here and hold down the fort.
Somebody has to maintain standards while the two of you disappear off into the wilderness.
I have several sketches to finish anyway.
If I don't complete them soon,
I shall lose my nerve and convince myself they're dreadful.
Are they dreadful?
Asked Barney.
Probably.
Well,
Then I guess you're ready for art college.
All artists seem convinced of that.
Barney leaned back.
We can stop in Deerwood first,
Moonlight.
I promised Fiddlehead Mike I'd leave those fishing hooks at the general store.
Valancy laughed.
Of course you did.
The matter was settled.
The following morning was bright and fragrant with pine and sunshine.
By mid-morning,
They were in Deerwood.
Barney left the motor car outside the general store while he carried in a parcel of fishing hooks and emerged 10 minutes later with a newspaper,
A bag of peppermints,
And a mysterious brass object that he insisted had been an excellent bargain.
For Lancey had long since learned not to ask.
They were crossing the street when a familiar voice halted them.
Valancy.
She turned.
Uncle James stood on the boardwalk outside the bank.
Time had not improved him.
His moustache remained severe.
His collar remained aggressive.
The years had etched a network of stern lines around his eyes and mouth.
As though life had spent decades presenting him with opportunities for disapproval.
And he had conscientiously taken every one.
He looked exactly like the sort of man who would correct a hymn book for being overly cheerful.
Uncle James.
He bowed stiffly.
Mrs.
Redfern.
Barney's eyes gleamed.
And Valancy,
At least,
Recognised the warning signs.
So good to see you again,
Mr Stirling,
Barney said in an overly sweet voice.
Uncle James cleared his throat.
I trust you are both well?
We are.
Excellent.
Excellent!
He did not look as though he found this excellent at all.
There was a brief silence.
Then Uncle James said with an air of confidence.
Reluctant duty.
I have recently had occasion to see your cousin,
Olive.
Valancy said.
Uncle James frowned.
She seems to have adopted certain ideas.
The word emerged as though it tasted unpleasant.
What sort of ideas?
Asked Valancy.
Oh,
Notions,
He waved a hand.
Independent notions.
Romantic notions vary.
Tactical.
Notions.
Barney nodded gravely.
Those are the worst kind.
Uncle James either missed the irony or chose to ignore it.
I fear she has been influenced.
Valancy knew exactly where this was going.
By whom?
She asked sweetly.
His gaze settled on her.
My dear Valancy.
There is no use pretending.
Barney folded his arms.
None at all.
Olive.
Was once a very sensible girl.
My point is.
.
.
Merely that some women are happier.
When guided by experienced family members.
Like Aunt Wellington asked Barney.
The silence that followed.
Was profound.
Even the sparrows seemed interested.
Uncle James's face twitched.
James drew himself up.
My concern.
Is that Olive has reached a difficult period in her life.
Such times require steadiness,
Prudence,
Sound advice.
Indeed,
Said Barney.
She has suffered a disappointment.
For Lancey's expression softened slightly.
Yes.
James nodded as though encouraged,
A painful one.
Undoubtedly,
Agreed Barney.
And yet.
.
.
Instead of settling quietly among her family.
And considering her future sensibly.
She appears determined to pursue a number of highly impractical ambitions.
Barney's eyes widened.
Good heavens!
Exactly!
Responded Uncle James with sudden enthusiasm.
Apparently convinced that his cause was gaining ground.
Perhaps there was an ounce or two of decency left in these heathens after all.
I mean,
Which ambitions are these?
Has she taken up piracy?
James stared.
Piracy.
It seems possible.
From your tone.
It is not piracy.
What a relief.
James's moustache quivered.
I refer to this absurd notion of studying art.
For Lance he felt a small flicker of irritation.
Why absurd?
Because it is!
A compelling argument,
Murmured Barney with mock solemnity.
James ignored him.
A young woman requires stability.
Olive has.
Stability.
Said Valanci.
She is intelligent.
Talented.
Quite capable of making decisions.
Women often imagine themselves capable of making decisions,
James pronounced with a sniff.
Barney regarded him curiously.
Do they?
Certainly.
And then what happens?
They make mistakes.
Barney considered this.
So do men.
That!
Is entirely different.
How?
James opened his mouth.
Closed it.
Opened it again But Lancey suspected that nobody had challenged this particular theory in years.
Perhaps decades.
Men possess experience.
Barney nodded thoughtfully.
I once knew a very experienced man who tried to carry a stove.
In a canoe.
He sank both.
For a moment,
Even Valancy could not tell whether he was serious.
That was one of Barney's most alarming qualities.
Uncle James made a sound of exasperation.
You persist in treating everything as a joke.
Not everything.
Barney's tone remained mild.
Only the things that are funny.
A horse and buggy rattled past.
The driver raised a hand in greeting.
Neither James nor Barney noticed.
They were regarding one another.
Like two gentlemen engaged in a duel.
With entirely different weapons.
At last,
James sighed.
It was the sigh of a man exhausted by the shortcomings of an unreasonable modern world.
Very well.
I can see there is little use discussing this matter.
On that point,
Said Barney,
We are in complete agreement.
James ignored this.
He turned to Valancy.
If you see Olive before I do.
Tell her.
That her family remains concerned.
Balancy met his gaze.
I'll tell her that her family loves her.
" Something flickered across his face.
Annoyance perhaps?
Or uncertainty?
Or the uncomfortable suspicion that those two things might not always be the same.
He adjusted his cuffs.
Good day.
Good day,
Uncle James,
Said Valancy.
Good day,
Mr.
Stirling.
Barney inclined his head.
Always a pleasure.
Uncle James walked away with great dignity.
They watched him disappear down the street.
Only to trip over a kerbstone as he turned the corner.
The moment he was out of earshot,
Barney released a long breath.
Remarkable.
What is?
That mustache!
Valancy laughed.
What about it?
It appears to disapprove of people.
Independently from the rest of him.
For several seconds,
She tried,
Unsuccessfully,
Not to laugh.
Then she gave up entirely.
Releasing all of the tension she'd been holding for the last few minutes.
The sound followed them all the way back to the motorcar.
The road leading up back seemed narrower than Balancy remembered.
Perhaps all roads seemed narrower after one had crossed entire oceans.
The forest pressed close on either side.
Sunlight flashed through spruce and maple.
Ferns crowded the ditches.
Somewhere deep among the trees,
A thrush was singing with such conviction.
Fiction,
That it sounded determined to improve the entire world by music alone.
For several miles,
Neither of them spoke much.
At last,
Barney said,
Well,
Moonlight,
I do fear we've disappointed Uncle James.
The lancy laughed.
How dreadful.
He seems to think Olive should be placed under supervision.
Olive has spent 30 years under supervision.
Exactly.
Barney steered around a pothole.
One would think thirty years had proved the point.
Valancy smiled and turned her face towards the warm breeze.
How strange life was.
There had been a time when an encounter like that with Uncle James would have ruined an entire day.
Now she found the experience amusing.
At length,
The road curved through a stand of tall pines.
And roaring Abel's property appeared.
The house looked very much as it always had.
It sat among the trees with a stubborn air of belonging there.
The woodshed leaned,
The porch sagged slightly at one corner.
An assortment of mysterious machinery still occupied part of the yard.
Abel had never knowingly discarded anything.
Yet the place was tidier than Valancy remembered.
The vegetable garden had been weeded.
The path was neatly swept.
Fresh curtains hung in the windows.
Wow,
Said Bonnie.
The Cousin the cousin.
The distant relative who had arrived after Sissy's death.
And apparently stayed.
Or someone else capable of keeping things somewhat in order.
Abel had predicted that this distant cousin would never equal Valancy's sterling housekeeping efforts.
That was undoubtedly true.
On the other hand.
She had evidently succeeded in preventing complete domestic collapse at Abel's,
Which was no small achievement.
They began to sidle up the garden path,
Admiring the trim flower beds.
The front door opened.
A stout,
Sensible-looking woman with iron-grey hair stepped outside.
Carrying a basket of laundry.
She halted.
They halted.
For a moment,
Everyone examined everyone else.
Balanci smiled.
You must be Cousin Myrtle.
The woman's eyes narrowed slightly as she took them in.
I'm Valancy.
Valancy Redfern,
And this is my husband Barney Redfern.
We're here to see Abel.
Grrrrrr.
Myrtle nodded.
Valancy.
Yes.
You're the one that was here before me.
Valancy glanced around the yard.
Wow,
That's not difficult.
Myrtle smiled faintly.
Properly since you left.
Balancy laughed.
I'm sure that's not true.
It certainly isn't.
But don't tell him that.
Myrtle shifted her basket.
He's in the barn.
A tremendous roar sounded from somewhere behind the house.
Myrtle didn't even blink.
Still in the barn,
She said.
Then she headed off towards the clothesline without another word.
Barney and Valancy crossed the yard and headed towards the barn.
The great doors stood open to the blazing August sunshine.
Even before they reached them,
The familiar smells drifted out to meet Valancy.
Hay.
Leather.
Horse.
Old wood warmed by decades of summers.
Beneath it all lingered the sharp scent of oil and grease and iron.
Unexpectedly,
The smells brought back a flood of memories.
For a moment.
She was 29 again and standing in this very place.
With a pail in one hand and a basket of laundry in the other,
While Abel roared instructions that Nobody intended to obey.
The interior of the barn appeared much as she remembered.
Which was to say that it appeared to have been organised according to principles known only to Roaring Able.
Harnesses hung from pegs.
Tools occupied every available surface.
A collection of wagon wheels leaned against one wall.
Several battered trunks lurked in shadowy corners.
Lengths of chain,
Coils of rope,
And mysterious pieces of machinery were distributed throughout the building with cheerful disregard for logic.
Balanci spotted an old butter churn.
A broken lantern.
Three axes.
Part of what might once have been a cream separator?
And something that looked alarmingly like Half of a steam engine!
"'Do you suppose Abel knows where any of this is?
' she whispered.
" Barney looked around.
Not a chance.
From somewhere deeper in the barn came a metallic clanging.
Then a muttered oath.
Then another clang.
They followed the sounds.
At the rear of the barn stood an ancient farm wagon.
One wheel had been removed.
The remaining structure was supported by blocks of timber and looked as though it had been undergoing repairs since Confederation.
Abel was crouched beside it.
His sleeves were rolled above his elbows.
His blue flannel shirt bore generous streaks of grease.
One enormous hand gripped a wrench.
The other held what appeared to be a bolt of considerable antiquity.
For a moment,
Neither Barney nor Valancy spoke.
The sight of him there was oddly reassuring.
Abel seemed less like a man than a permanent feature of this landscape.
His great beard was still magnificent.
Flowed over his chest like a fiery banner.
Streaked now with some white.
His snow-white hair stood up in rebellious tufts beneath an old hat whose best years had plainly occurred in another century.
His eyebrows remained astonishing.
Valanci had forgotten just how astonishing He looked up.
His striking blue eyes were exactly the same.
Bright,
Keen,
Mischievous.
Young.
Still young despite all his years.
For an instant,
Surprise flashed across those steely blue eyes.
Then his face split into a grin.
Wow,
Now he's straightened up.
The movement seemed to unfold forever.
Abel had always been a large man,
And age had done nothing to reduce him.
He still rose like a bear standing on its hind legs.
My girl!
Valancy laughed.
The next moment she found herself enveloped in a hug powerful enough to rearrange several ribs.
He released her and seized Barney's hand.
Redfern?
Able.
Still causing trouble?
I do my best.
Good lad.
Abel nodded approvingly.
Then he pointed at the wagon.
Damn thing's been fighting me all morning again.
Barney examined it.
It appears to be winning.
Abel snorted.
Rubbish!
The wheel's rotten!
The wagons rotten,
Said Barney.
The wagons sound.
Barney tapped one of the sideboards.
A small fragment of wood detached itself.
And drifted down to the floor.
Abel glared at it.
The board remained unapologetic.
The lancy bit her lip.
For a moment,
Nobody spoke.
Then Abel gave an enormous snort.
Traitorous lumber!
Bonnie laughed.
I believe the evidence is against you.
Nonsense.
It's got another 20 years in it!
Which part?
Abel ignored the question.
He tossed the wrench onto a nearby workbench and wiped his hands on a rag that appeared to have spent its entire life wiping things with no reprieve.
Well,
Come on,
He jerked his head towards the house.
I'm tired of wrestling with the infernal contraption anyway.
Abel gave the wheel a final suspicious look.
We'll continue this later.
As they crossed the yard,
Abel scrubbed at his oil-streaked hands with the wretched rag It improved matters only very slightly.
The grease spread itself into broader territories.
Valancy laughed.
You've missed a spot.
I've missed several spots.
You could wash them.
Abel looked scandalised.
What for?
I only get dirty again?
That has never stopped anyone else.
Aye,
And that's why they've wasted half their lives washing.
They stepped onto the porch.
The screen door gave its usual creak as Abel opened it.
For a moment.
Valancy simply stood in the doorway.
The house felt both familiar and strange.
The shape of the rooms was the same.
The old stove still stood in its corner.
The broad table remained beneath the window.
Yet.
There were changes too.
Fresh curtains hung at the windows.
A vase of wildflowers stood on the table.
The shelves were neatly arranged and the floorboards fairly gleamed from recent scrubbing.
Everything looked cared for.
Everything looked lived in.
Myrtle might not be Valancy,
But She was plainly a capable woman.
Abel caught her looking around.
Myrtle won't admit it but she enjoys bossing a house a voice drifted through the open window i heard that abel rolled his eyes heavenward see Valancy laughed.
The old warmth of the place settled around her immediately.
It felt to be here again.
Without even quite realising she was doing it,
She crossed to the stove and lifted the kettle.
It was almost empty.
She filled it at the pump by the sink and set it back on the range.
Just then,
The back door opened.
Myrtle stepped inside.
She paused.
Her eyes travelled from the kettle to Valancy.
For the briefest moment,
The two women simply looked at one another.
Valancy Coloured.
Oh,
Dear.
I'm sorry.
I wasn't trying to.
.
.
I know.
Myrtle moved easily to the cupboard and reached for the teapot.
I'll make the tea.
Valanci hesitated.
May I help?
You may hand me the cups.
There was just enough firmness in Myrtle's voice to establish the proper order of things.
Valancy obediently handed them over.
Myrtle arranged everything with brisk efficiency.
Then she glanced sideways.
If you stay long enough,
You'll probably start putting my pantry in order.
Valancy smiled.
Only if you ask.
Myrtle gave a satisfied little nod,
As though that was exactly the right answer.
I'll finish the washing while the water eats.
She lifted the tray.
You three can gossip.
Abel snorted.
I don't gossip.
You certainly do.
We discuss important matters.
You disgust everybody for 10 miles around.
That's different.
It is not.
She disappeared through the back door again,
Leaving it swinging gently behind her.
Barney watched it close.
I like Cousin Myrtle.
So do I,
Said Valancy.
Abel grunted and reached immediately for the biscuit tin.
Speaking of gossip,
Began Barney,
Abel's eyebrows lifted,
We encountered Uncle James in Dearwood.
For a moment,
Abel froze,
Then his great eyebrows shot upwards.
You don't say.
Oh yes.
Barney settled back in his chair with obvious enjoyment.
He intercepted us outside the bank.
What was the old rooster crowing about now?
He wanted to express concern.
Abel gave another ominous grunt.
That's never a good sign.
He feels Valancy has been leading Olive astray.
Abel blinked.
Then he threw back his head and exploded into laughter.
It was the sort of laughter that belonged to him alone.
It began as a rumble somewhere deep in his enormous chest,
Before erupting into great booming peels that seemed capable of shaking dust from the rafters.
He slapped the kitchen table with one broad hand.
Leading Oliver stray.
He laughed again.
Well.
I'll be switched.
Valancy could not help laughing too.
I don't think Uncle James found it amusing.
No.
Barney sighed thoughtfully.
He appeared to regard it as something between a national emergency.
Theological crisis.
Abel wiped a tear from one eye.
That sounds like James.
He informed us that women are happiest when guided by experienced family members.
I asked whether he meant relatives like Aunt Wellington.
That did it.
Abel roared so loudly.
That somewhere outside a dog began barking an alarm.
He pounded the table again.
Bless my soul.
Valanci suspected the table had survived many such assaults over the years.
Oh,
I'd have paid good money to be in that conversation.
Abel shook his head slowly.
I've known James Stirling for 40 years.
Only 40,
Said Barney.
It feels longer.
He took another biscuit.
The trouble with James is.
.
.
He was born old.
I don't think he was ever a boy,
" said Valancy.
Oh!
He was,
Abel's eyes twinkled,
I remember him at twelve.
You do?
I surely do.
Abel leaned back with the unmistakable expression of a man preparing to tell a favourite story.
He was 12 years old.
When he informed me.
I was harnessing my horse.
Incorrectly.
Were you?
Asked Barney.
I've been harnessing horses for 15 years!
I asked him whether he'd ever honest one.
And He said no,
But he'd been watching.
Carefully.
Both men roared with laughter.
Valancy shook her head as she covered her mouth.
I reckon James came into the world complaining that his mother wasn't holding him properly.
Bellowed Abel in between bouts of laughter.
Even Valancy laughed aloud at that.
Abel looked thoroughly pleased with himself.
Mind you,
He reached for another biscuit.
I haven't always been as patient with James as you were today.
Barney's eyes gleamed.
No?
No.
Abel's grin widened.
There was that business with the garden bed.
Just then,
The kettle began to sing on the stove.
From the back porch came the sound of footsteps and the screen door creaked open.
Myrtle returned with the empty washing basket balanced against one hip.
Perfect timing,
She said,
Tea's ready to be made.
She crossed briskly to the stove and lifted the kettle before it could work itself into a full whistle.
The kitchen filled with the soft fragrance of warming tea leaves.
Abel continued with immense satisfaction.
I reckon James Stirling still wakes up thinking about that asparagus bed.
He was up here trying to persuade Valancy to go back to Dearwood.
He called me a drunken,
Blasphemous,
Old scoundrel.
Myrtle's eyebrows rose.
I wasn't having that.
I picked him up by his trousers and I.
.
.
Threw him over the garden paling.
Face first,
Right into the asparagus.
Valancy laughed.
I've never forgotten seeing Uncle James's coattails disappearing into the garden.
Barney laughed with her.
From the kitchen sink,
Myrtle glanced sideways at the table.
Abel accepted his tea with a deeply satisfied expression.
There now,
He said,
Justice was done.
And it certainly seems to have discouraged further visits from James Stirling too.
The conversation drifted on to other Dearwood characters.
Someone's cow had wandered into the churchyard.
Somebody else had attempted to keep bees in their attic.
With predictably disastrous consequences.
Abel maintained the bees had shown considerably more common sense than their owner.
While the two men argued on cheerfully over whose version of events was more accurate.
Valanci got up.
And found herself wandering quietly about the room.
She scarcely even realised she was doing it.
Her fingers brushed absentmindedly across the mantelpiece.
She paused beside the dresser.
There was Sissy's little china shepherdess.
The tiny crack in one arm was still visible,
If one knew where to look.
Beside it sat the faded pink cushion Sissy had embroidered as a girl.
The stitches were uneven.
One tiny blue flower had always leaned sideways as though growing in a stiff breeze.
Lancey smiled fondly as she reached out and gently touched the dear,
Familiar little object.
Near the window stood Sissy's old sewing basket.
The handle was a little loose again.
Without thinking,
Valancy tucked the fraying end of the braid neatly beneath itself.
Behind her,
Abel was saying,
I'm telling you Barney.
If a fella insists on keeping bees upstairs.
He's got no call to complain when they decide to come downstairs.
They were merely broadening their horizons,
Barney replied.
They broadened his nose.
Valancy laughs.
The room was full of.
.
.
Sunlight.
Tea,
Laughter,
The ticking of Abel's old clock.
There had been a time when she had wondered whether roaring Abel would survive losing his dear Sissy at all.
She had feared the grief might swallow him whole.
That he would drink himself into oblivion or.
.
.
Simply ceased to care whether the fire was lit or the roof leaked or the garden ran wild.
But Abel had done what great old trees did after the fiercest storms.
He had bent.
He had lost branches.
He bore the scars plainly,
Yet he Somehow.
He had remained standing.
The house had changed.
Myrtle's capable hands had brought a different sort of order to it.
Sissy's little treasures still rested quietly in their familiar places.
Abel still laughed loud enough to shake the crockery.
The seasons still turned beyond the windows.
Life.
As usual.
Had not asked anyone's permission to continue.
It simply had.
There was a quiet.
.
.
Reassurance.
In it all.
A while later,
Barney glanced towards the window.
If we don't leave soon,
We'll be driving home in the dark.
Nonsense,
Said Abel.
You even have three hours before you can honestly start worrying.
And if I stay another three hours,
You'll have me helping you repair that wagon.
Oh,
Don't remind me.
Groundable.
Outside,
The afternoon had begun its slow drift towards evening.
The shadows of the pines stretched long across the yard,
And somewhere beyond the barn,
A white-throated sparrow was singing its clear,
Sweet refrain.
Abel walked with them as far as the motor car.
Mind you don't leave it so long next time,
He said gruffly.
We won't,
Said Valancy.
He hugged her once more with enough enthusiasm to make her suspect that several ribs had again shifted slightly from their proper positions.
Then he shook Barney's hand with equal vigour before stepping back as Barney started up the engine.
Balancy looked back over her shoulder as they drove away.
Abel was still standing there in the middle of the yard with his hands in his pockets and his magnificent red and white beard stirring gently in the evening breeze.
He raised one enormous hand.
And she waved back.
Until the bend in the road hid him.
From sight.
