Moonlight At Mistawis - Chapter 9: The Ripples

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

A visitor finally arrives, with the clanging of the mainland bell: Olive has come to Mistawis. Over tea, cats, pine trees and the unfamiliar quiet of island life, she begins to discover that Valancy's home is not at all what she had imagined.

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 Mistarvis, My unofficial fan written sequel to The Blue Castle, Which was published a hundred years ago this year by the amazing Canadian author Lucy Maud Montgomery, Who, As you perhaps know, Was also the author of Anne of Green Gables. That was her most famous book. Books though, Was The Blue Castle. And that's why I wanted to offer this sequel to that wonderful book here. Moonlight at Mastawis is also available as a paperback and an e-book. And you can listen to the audio version, Obviously, Here. I do hope if you've been listening along already that you're enjoying the story. If you haven't already heard the previous parts of this book and you'd like to, You can certainly look for the playlist for Moonlight at Mistawis. And you can also find my reading of the whole of the Blue Castle here on Insight Timer 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 Darwis. Chapter 9 The Ripples Barney was out with the boat again. Valancy stood at the kitchen window, Drawing the last teacup and watching the speck of his figure disappear behind the screen of evergreens on the western shore. A gust of wind rippled the lake as the faint hum of the disappearing propeller boat faded into the distance. Balanci lowered the cup into the drying rack and wiped her hands on the towel. She had been up early making currant scones and rearranging the spice tins for no better reason than that. She could not settle. It had been a week since she'd gone to Dearwood. And olive. Olive had not come. Not to Miss Darwis. Not even in a note or a whisper of reply. But Lancey told herself she hadn't expected anything. Had even half hoped Olive would take refuge in silence. But still. Each time Barney brought back the post, She found herself wondering if there might be a note from her tucked in among the letters. She fetched the broom and began sweeping the floor in long, Even strokes. Dust gathered in corners. Barney had tracked in his regular constellation of pine needles. She found a single button near the door. Unfamiliar. Not one of his, Not hers. Probably from some forgotten old coat they'd dragged out of the attic for rags. Just as she finished with the sweeping, The bell clanged, That sharp, Unmistakable note ringing out across the lake from the mainland dock. Balancy stepped onto the porch, Brushing a wisp of hair from her face. The sun had come out again, Lighting up the far shore. And there. . . Just barely visible against the backdrop of spruce and rock. Stood a slim figure in a pale coat. Valancy blinked and gasped. Olive? The figure didn't wave, But took a step forward, Coat fluttering faintly in the breeze. Valancy darted to the edge of the porch and cupped her hands around her mouth. Olive! Hold on i'll come fetch you She didn't wait to see whether Olive had heard. The broom clattered where she dropped it, And she all but ran down the pine-shadowed path to the shore, Where the canoe lay upturned beside a drift of last year's leaves. Her fingers fumbled with the rope as she tugged it free and dragged the canoe down to the water's edge. When she glanced back across the lake. She could see Olive still standing there. Rigid and motionless. Of all the moments for Barney to be away. She tugged harder at the canoe. Canoe slipped easily. Into the water. Valancy took up the paddle and struck out with even strokes, The familiar rhythm steadying her. As she approached, She could see Olive's face more clearly. Guarded. Grim and unmistakably flushed. Valanci let the paddle drift for a moment. Olive! You came! I said I might, Said Olive. Her voice was calm, Almost cool. But there was a tremor just behind it. The weather held. She looked sharply at the canoe. Then around the shoreline. Where? Is your husband. Barney's in town, Said Valancy evenly. You're not afraid of my paddling, Are you? " Olive frowned faintly. But she didn't argue. Well, Hop in, Said Valancy, Steadying the canoe. You can lecture me about scandal and safety once we're afloat. Olive made a face. But a faint one. And climbed in very awkwardly. Clutching her handbags, Though it might shield her. Balancy waited until she was settled before pushing them off. They glided out into the lake. The silence between them hovered, Stretched, And then snapped softly. I didn't expect to be met by canoe. Said Olive, Staring straight ahead. It wasn't in the. . . Instructions. There weren't any, Said Valancy. I wasn't sure you'd really come. Olive sniffed. Neither was I. Balancy glanced at her side long, Letting the paddle rest on the still water. So. . . Why did you? Olive didn't answer at first. She stared at the ripples ahead. Brow furrowed, Lips pressed tight. Then, After a pause, She said, Almost briskly, I just wanted to see where you live. Valancy gave a little nod as if that made perfect sense. It's not much, But it's all ours. The canoe skimmed forward again, Quiet except for the dip of the paddle and the faint hush of water slipping past. When they reached the island, Valancy stepped out first and steadied the canoe, While Olive gathered her skirts and made as dignified a landing as possible. Olive looked slowly around the clearing. Her gaze travelled from the cottage to the pines, Then down to the mud on the hem of her skirt. Come in, Said Valancy, Gesturing towards the house. There's tea and probably something I've burned slightly. And I've brought nothing suitable to wear, " Olive muttered, Following her up the steps. Perfect, You'll fit right in, Said Valancy over her shoulder. Inside, The cool hush of the cabin was a soft shock after the morning sun. The air held the scent of cedar and a trace of mint from the herbal bunches hanging to dry in the corner. Barney's old chair sat empty by the hearth, And a half-mended curtain lay in a loose pile beside Valancy's sewing basket. It's clean. Said Olive. Sounding surprised. I do my best, " Valancy smiled. Olive stepped further in, Glancing about with an appraising eye. Her gaze lingered on the little kitchen shelves, The woven rag rug, The jar of purple wildflowers on the windowsill. Here and there were things that plainly had not come from Dearwood. A painted tile propped against the shelf. A little brass coffee pot. A strip of bright woven cloth thrown over the back of a chair. Then, More pointedly, Her gaze fell on the three books on the side table. Won by Darwin. One, A collection of poetry. And one, A rather worn volume of practical herbal remedies. Is this what you read all day? I read when I want to, " said Valancy. And do other things when I don't. Olive. Didn't respond. She moved to the window instead and stood there with her back to the room. Arms folded, Chin raised. Valazi, Not bothering to fill the silence, Went to put the kettle on. The stove flared softly to life. Outside, A jay screeched from the trees. At last, Olive turned. Does he leave you here alone? Valancy lifted an eyebrow. Barney? Of course! I'm not made of glass. I meant. . . Olive trailed off. Frowned. Then start it again. What if something happened? Balancy shrugged. Then I suppose I'd manage. Olive remained standing for a moment, Her eyes flicking wildly around the room. She waited until Valancy gestured to a chair near the hearth before lowering herself onto it carefully, As though the furniture might resent the intrusion or pass her some unutterable disease. She sat upright, Knees together, Gloved hands neatly folded in her lap. Good luck appeared, Soundlessly, And subjected Olive's skirt to a grave inspection, Before settling against her ankle. Olive at first stiffened. Then slowly relaxed her foot. This isn't how I pictured it. She said finally. The lancy poured two cups of tea and brought them over. How did you picture it? Olive didn't take the cup at first. More. Chaotic. Dust. Mold. Disrepair. Valancy's laugh escaped before she could help it. You thought I'd come to ruin, Did you? I thought you'd. . . Regret it. Olive finally accepted the cup, Holding it delicately with both hands. Valancy sat across from her. The silence between them thickened again, Filled only by the soft ticking of the wall clock and the creak of the roof beams in the sunlight. I have my moments, Said Valancy after a thoughtful pause. This place isn't always easy. But I've learned to find immense comfort in it. Even the mosquitoes and I have reached an understanding. "'Valancy, ' said Olive sharply, "'you make light of everything. '" Well, I used to make nothing of everything. Seems like an improvement. That silenced Olive again. She stared down into her cup. Balancy stood and fetched a plate of currant buns. She set them on the table between them. Olive hesitated, Then took one, Ate it slowly. It's good, She said. Valancy dipped her head in acknowledgement. I don't use much sugar. That's why. It's good. At her feet, Good luck had begun to purr with surprising force. His warm side pressed firmly against Olive's ankle. She glanced down at him, But did not move her foot away. They sat there, Drinking tea, Neither quite looking at the other. Olive looked around slowly, As if trying to take it all in. The sunlight on the floorboards, The greenish gleam of the lake through the windows, The quiet hum of a place well lived in. So, This is it, She said at last. The Island. I used to try to picture it, She said, But I. . . Never imagined. Anything like this. I never really imagined it either, Said Valancy softly, Not until I got here. Olive stirred her tea. I suppose we all thought you'd come back after a while. Or that you don't. Write more. Valancy rested her hands on the arms of the chair. I didn't mean to seem distant. I just. . . Needed time to settle into this new life, Without having to account for it to everyone. Olive nodded slowly. I think I understand that now. For a moment, There was only the quiet clink of Olive's spoon against her cup. Valancy stood and stretched. Would you like to see a little of the island? There's a nice little path through the pines not far from here. Olive glanced down at her shoes and hesitated. I'm not sure I have the right footwear. You'll manage fine, " Valancy reassured. Without waiting for a response, She went to fetch her hat. They set off down the little path that wound through the trees behind the cabin. The undergrowth was sparse this early in the season, And the soft brown carpet of pine needles muffled their steps. Olive followed carefully, Brushing away a low-hanging branch with a frown. It's very. . . Rustic, She said, Not quite critically. Quiet, I suppose. Peaceful, Said Valancy. Most days it feels like the rest of the world is A dream I once had. They walked in silence for a few minutes, Birdsong the only accompaniment. The lake shimmered through the trees, And a breeze carried the scents of cedar and damp earth. Olive spoke again. Is it always this quiet? Don't you get lonely? Sometimes. But i don't mind it. It gives me room to think. I can imagine it. Said Olive softly. They emerged at a small rise overlooking the lake, Where a little bench of timber and stone stood among the pines. Valancy gestured to it. Sit for a moment. Olive sat with great care, Brushing imaginary dust from her skirt. Valancy remained standing, Idly twining pine needles through her fingers and enjoying the play of light on the water. Olive broke the silence. Do you really mean to stay here forever? Balancy shrugged. Not forever necessarily, But for now it's certainly home. Olive shook her head with a kind of reluctant amusement. You're really not the same girl who used to sit silent at family dinners. No. Valancy agreed, Softly. She is buried somewhere under the pine needles. Half under her breath, Olive said, I'll need to be getting back to Deerwood before long. But Lancey glanced at her. You won't stay then? Olive scoffed, Apparently startled by the question. Goodness, No! Where would I sleep? You haven't exactly got a guest room, Doss. Oh. The lancet. Balancy's eyes twinkled. No, We haven't exactly planned for houseguests. Olive flushed. Well, Yes, But. . . She folded her arms more tightly. I mean, I didn't even bring a nightdress or a toothbrush. Unthinkable. Valancy didn't argue. She only nodded and looked back towards the glinting water. Well, I'll paddle you back after lunch. Yes, I ought to return while mother still thinks I'm just off duty. Visiting cousin Georgiana. Olive hesitated. Besides, She added more briskly, I have appointments. And I didn't exactly pack sensibly. No. Agreed for Lancey. You didn't. Another pause. Olive stood. But I suppose I could come again, Perhaps next week, If the weather holds. Valancy looked at her properly now. You'd be welcome. Olive flushed and looked away, Remarking, I'd need to bring proper things. Valanci nodded. Hiding her amusement. At least let's have a spot of lunch before paddling back, Said Valancy. I shan't let you walk all the way back to Dearwood on an empty stomach. Olive gave a short nod. She glanced towards the trees. It is so beautiful. It's quiet here. She said. Unnervingly so. Her voice trailed off. Balansi. Didn't press her. She just led the way back down the path towards the cabin. Dappled sunlight falling on the spongy moss underfoot, A squirrel chattered from a branch overhead, And a warbler flicked through the leaves in a blur of yellow. Lunch was served on the porch, Where two chairs were drawn up to the little table under the overhang. Cold salmon, Fresh bread and pickled beets in a blue glass dish were laid out with plain crockery and a jug of cold spring water. Olive gave the meal a considering glance, Then sat and unfolded her napkin with the air of someone bracing for indecency. They ate in a companionable hush, The trill of a distant thrush rising now and then above the lapping of the lake. Olive didn't compliment the food, But she finished every bite. When the meal was done, Valancy reached into the cupboard and pulled out a few small oatcakes, Wrapping them in waxed paper with quick, Efficient hands. She offered the bundle to Olive casually. For the journey back, She said. Fuel. Olive hesitated. Then accepted it with a brief nod. She gathered her belongings and they walked down to the shore. Valancy steadied the canoe again and Olive stepped in, A touch more sure-footed now. Don't let it tip, She warned. I haven't yet, Valancy said serenely. They glided out across the silver water, Silence settling between them again. The dip and pull of the paddle made soft eddies behind them. From the shore, A red squirrel chattered indignantly in the hemlocks, And far overhead, A pair of flickers wheeled and flashed through the pale sky. The island behind them faded into a blur of spruces. And shadow. Valancy kept her strokes even and unhurried, Letting the rhythm carry them on towards Deerwood. Olive sat still, Her gloved hands resting in her lap. Once or twice, She glanced over her shoulder at the island receding behind them. They reached the far shore, And Valancy grounded the canoe gently. Olive stepped out without complaint, Brushing a pine needle from her skirt. Well, She said at last, Thank you. You're welcome. Olive paused. Then gave a small almost imperceptible nod. I'll See you! And with that, She turned and walked off up the trail. Valancy watched until Olive disappeared into the trees. Then, Smiling. She pushed the canoe back into the water and paddled home through the quiet afternoon.