Moonlight At Mistawis - Chapter 21: Between Two Shores

Welcome to Chapter Six of 'Moonlight at Mistawis', my independent, unofficial sequel to L. M. Montgomery's beloved 1926 novel 'The Blue Castle'.
Olive finds herself poised between two shores: the familiar environs of Deerwood or the possibility of an entirely new life in Toronto. As her courage grows, another quiet possibility begins to make itself felt at Mistawis — one that Valancy and Barney are not quite ready to name aloud...
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 Mistawis. This is my unofficial, Independent, Fan-written sequel to celebrate a hundred years since the publishing of Lucy Maud Montgomery's fantastic novel from 1926, The Blue Castle. She never wrote a sequel to The Blue Castle and so many of us, I'm sure, Have wondered what happened next. So this was my version of supplying an answer to that question. I wonder what Lucy Maud Montgomery herself would make of this interpretation of the onwards trajectory of her character's lives after the Blue Castle. I hope that she would enjoy it. I hope that you're enjoying it if you've been listening along so far. With this chapter, We'll actually be three quarters of the way through this book, Which seems a little hard to believe. It also feels really fun to be sharing this and yeah, I do hope people are enjoying it. It seems like it. If you haven't yet heard the preceding parts of this book and you'd like to, You can also look for the playlist for Moonlight at Mastawis and you'll find all of the parts there in order. It makes it a lot easier to move from one chapter to the next that way. You can similarly find a playlist for the Blue Castle as well. But 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 the next installment of Moonlight at Miss Star Wisp. Chapter 21 Between Two Shores The lake in August was a world of late bloom and ripening edges. Goldenrod had begun to kindle at the borders of the meadow. And the island paths were powdered with the fallen petals of wild roses. Olive walked with her sketchbook under her arm, Stopping now and then to kneel and catch the bend of a stem, The turn of a leaf, The way a cluster of berries held themselves in the sun. Her lines were quicker these days, Less fussy. She had begun, Without realising it, To sketch for herself instead of for anyone else's approval. Yet the whisper of an old voice was never far away. Cecil had once told her, With that smiling authority of his, That Sketching flowers is well enough for an amateur. But what could you possibly do with it, Olive? She had laid her pencil down at that. Years ago. Now, Kneeling in the high grass with her hem damp from the dew, She found herself. Answering him. Not allowed. But firmly, With her strokes on the page, She drew the sharp, Wild tilt of a thistle. And it looked nothing like a polite, Reserved botanical plate. It looked alive. Satisfied, She rose and wandered further. Mastartwis seemed to meet her halfway, As if the island itself wanted her to see it, To take it with her. The crows swept after her in their noisy patrols, Nip and tuck, Scolding until they settled back into the spruces. A dragonfly clung to her wrist a moment, Green and trembling. Before darting off. It was all so exquisite. And too much to hold. And yet she tried. Scribbling, Shading, Filling, Page after page. As the hours drew on. By noon, Olive was weary from the searing heat. She sat on the dock. Legs dangling into the deliciously cool water below. Balancy came along the path with a basket of flowers balanced on her hips. She stopped when she saw Olive's face. You've been away somewhere in your mind, Valancy said. Olive let the sketchbook fall shut. I keep thinking about Toronto. Valancy sat down beside her. That sounds dangerous. I wrote back to Miss Harrington. Valancy turned quickly. You did? Over a week ago. I told her. I wanted to try for it. Olive looked out across the water. I suppose now I have to wait and see whether. . . It can really be arranged. What do you hope would happen? Olive was silent. The water lapped softly beneath the docks. At first, I thought I only wanted to undo what Cecil talked me out of. She said at last. To prove that I could still do it, Perhaps. She opened the sketchbook again and looked down at the wild thistle she had drawn. But I don't think that's all of it anymore. " Valancy waited. Olive's voice dropped. I want to make something lasting. Something of my own. The lance he nodded then make it! That evening, Barney spread his notes across the table, Muttering to himself as he scrawled lines of description, Sketches of moon phases, Half-formed dialogues. He looked more alive than Olive had ever seen him. His eyes burn! With the same light she sometimes glimpsed in Valancy when she was laughing. Valancy watched him with an expression that was both amused and tender. She had been feeling so odd lately, Though she still said nothing aloud. A wave of tiredness in the afternoons, A faint queasiness in the mornings, Small shifts, She could not quite ignore. They stirred that secret wonder in her heart that she carried like a fragile flame, Too delicate to name aloud just yet. Olive noticed Valancy's far away smile and felt a pang of envy. Though it was not the sharp envy of old. It was. . . A gentler wistfulness, The ache of watching someone live a fullness you have never quite reached. That night, While Barney worked on in Bluebeard's chamber, Olive lingered by the old telescope on the porch. She hesitated, Then bent to peer through it. The moon loomed. Luminous and steady. She sighed. Deeply. And let the sight wash over her. Her throat tightened. I want it to happen. She whispered conspiratorially to the night. I'm a newborn. Scholarship. I'm just. . . Terrified? Valancy's voice floated over from the doorway. Then I suppose you'll have to be terrified. Olive started so violently that she nearly knocked her forehead against the telescope. Valancy! Valancy stood in the doorway. Shaw gathered around her shoulders. Looking wholly unrepentant. How long have you been standing there? Long enough. Olive's face flamed. I was not talking to you. No, Said Valancy gravely. I gathered you were consulting the moon. Olive stared at her in mortification. And did it offer any useful advice? Valancy asked. No. Very inconsiderate of it. Against her will, Olive gave a short laugh, The embarrassment ebbing a little. I meant it. She said more quietly. I do want it. I'm frightened half out of my senses. Valancy came out onto the porch, Drawing her shawl more closely around her. You can hardly wait until you aren't frightened. You might be 80. " Olive gave an unwilling laugh. I thought courage. Was supposed to make one feel rather splendid. I've never found that. No. Mostly it makes my knees shake. Olive sighed, Turned and looked back through the telescope. The moon hung serenely above Miss Darwes, Apparently quite indifferent to Toronto scholarships and the opinions of her immovable mother. What if I go and discover I'm no good? Then you'll know. And. . . If I hate it. Then you'll know that too. You make failure sound terribly reasonable. It usually is afterwards. Olive was silent. What did you do? She asked at last. When you were afraid. Valancy considered. Whatever had to be done next, I suppose. Usually it was something quite small. Olive looked at her. And what is my next thing? Well, I would think, Said Valancy, That before becoming a celebrated Toronto artist, You might find out where you intend to sleep, For example. Olive laughed again, More freely this time. Well, Yes, I suppose that does sound thoroughly practical. Well, Even artists have to sleep somewhere. They stood for a while without speaking, Listening to the water brushing softly against the shore. Later, Olive slept badly. She dreamed of a train pulling away while Cecil called after her from the platform. Though when she woke, She. . . Could not remember whether he had been telling her to stay or warning her not to miss it. By breakfast, She had decided one thing at least. "'I need somewhere to live in Toronto, ' she announced as Valancy set down a plate of cornmeal cakes. Bonnie looked up. Do you? Olive coloured. If I go? Ah, Important distinction. I know I could take a boarding house room, But. . . I shouldn't know where to begin. Balanci paused, Butter knife in hand. Bonnie? What about Aunt Josephine? He blinked, Then grinned. Good old Aunty Josephine. Olive looked between them. My father's sister, Barney said. Lives in Toronto. Big house, Strong opinions. Considerably better than most boardinghouse porridge. I believe she sometimes lets rooms, Valancy added. We could write and ask. Olive's eyes widened. Would you? Of course! Olive tried unsuccessfully to suppress a smile. Wow, She said. I suppose that would be one thing settled. One thing. Said Valancy. For the moment. That was enough. Breakfast went on with lighter talk. But when the dishes were cleared, Olive gathered her notebook and slipped back outside. She wanted the open air, Some quietness to really On the porch, The morning sun struck bright off the lake. Olive lowered herself onto the steps and opened her sketchbook, Though she did not draw. Shioni let the pages rest in her lap. A sudden flutter of wings startled her. A crow swooped low over the clearing, Landed on the railing, Cocked its head at her. In its beak. Dangled something. A small twist of ribbon. Frayed but still red. With a brisk shake, The bird dropped it at her feet. And then took off. With a loud squawk. Its wings flashing black against the mellow sky. Olive stared at the ribbon. She bent and picked it up. Dusty. Faded but stubbornly bright where the sun caught it. Another gift The previous marbles and feathers had seemed merely charming. Now! She felt a shiver run down her spine. It's. . . Ridiculous, She murmured. Yet her fingers closed around the ribbon and did not let go. Inside the cabin, Valancy lingered by the window, Watching Olive outside. Barney came up behind her, Still drying his hands from the washbasin. She's thinking herself in circles again, He said quietly. Lancy nodded. Almost before she meant to, She added, She'll find her way. But Barney. . . She hesitated. Resting her hand on the windowsill. I think we may be finding our way too. In a different direction. Barney's brows drew together. What do you mean? Her dark eyes were unusually soft as she looked at him. It's only a suspicion but Bunny? We might not be just Too much longer. For a moment, He only stared. Then his face lit as though someone had struck a match in the dim cabin. For Lancey. His voice was low. Full of wonder. He reached for her hand, His fingers closing tight over hers. Are you certain? Not certain, She admitted, Her mouth trembling into a smile. Not yet, But. . . I think so. Barney bent and pressed his forehead tenderly against hers. A laugh breaking from his chest. Astonished. Wow. The world's gone and made itself new again. Hasn't it? She laughed too, Shakily. It has a habit of doing that, I guess, When you least expect it. They stood a moment in the quiet, Holding each other. Before Valancy whispered. Not a word to Olive yet though. She has enough tumbling in her mind. Not a word, " Barney promised. Before Valancy could breathe her relief, He scooped her up in his arms and kissed her with reckless tenderness. She gave a soft, Surprised laugh against his mouth, Clinging to him as though they were the only two souls in the world right then Outside, Olive sat straight-backed on the porch steps. Unaware of the quiet wonder unfolding just behind her. Olive sat and traced the crow's ribbon between her fingers, The faint red bright against her skin. She tried to scoff at the thought of it being a sign. Yet the wildness in her chest refused to quiet. The world seemed suddenly full of hints, Nudges, Conspiracies. She pressed the ribbon between the pages of her sketchbook and shut it firmly, As if to seal something sacred inside. Toronto waited, Somewhere out there, Past the world she had always known. She did not know if she would really reach it. Part. Beneath all the fear. She found herself hoping. Desperately that Toronto. Would. Take her.