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“Oh, don’t say that!” Louisa shook her head angrily. “‘I told you so!’ I know you want to gloat, Ellen, but don’t do it to my face.”
“I’m not gloating!”
“Aren’t you?” Louisa replied shrewdly. “You were worried I’d steal this island from under your nose, and I haven’t. It’s still yours. It will always be yours.”
Ellen had a prickling awareness of Louisa’s meaning. It was a competition in her mind, between the two of them. Perhaps it always had been, although how Louisa could think anything between them was a competition Ellen had no idea. In Seaton Louisa had more friends, more dresses, more everything. All Ellen had was this island; was there really any question that she would feel protective, and yes, even possessive of it?
“It isn’t my island,” Ellen said, but even she could hear how halfhearted she sounded. A part of her was quite vehemently insisting that this island was hers, and always would be. It made Ellen feel a little childish and selfish, but still defiant. In her own way she was just as stubborn as her friend. She took a deep breath and tried again. “But you’ll never find your place here if you don’t try to fit in. This isn’t Seaton, Louisa.”
“I know that,” Louisa answered. “I’ve always known that.”
“If you wanted to belong here,” Ellen said, “you could. Even now. People here are accepting, Louisa. Forgiving. If you just made an effort—”
“Did you make an effort when you arrived?” Louisa demanded. “Isn’t the point that you don’t have to?”
Ellen hesitated, remembering her uneasy beginning, how Jed had picked her up from the station, so surly and silent. She thought of how she’d made dinner and bathed the McCafferty children, all because she’d thought she might be sent away again. Remembering it was like seeing herself through a gauzy veil or a fog. She was a different person now. A stronger one. And despite her childish possessiveness of the island, another part of her wanted Louisa to succeed and be happy.
“You’re not being reasonable, Louisa, and I’m not saying that to be mean. If you’re going to be prickly and standoffish, then how can people ever get to know you, or even want to? I’m not saying you have to change yourself, but just be friendly—” She stopped, for she was now well able to see when Louisa was coming into a fine temper.
Her eyes flashed and her mouth hardened. “Maybe I’ll just have to find someone who likes me for myself,” she said frostily, and with a strange little thrill of foreboding Ellen wondered if that was a threat... and who it would be.
The wedding was a classic island affair, with the church crowded and Captain Jonah blowin
g his nose loudly on his large spotted handkerchief right in the middle of the service. The happy couple led the way back to the homestead for the party, with everyone following behind in the gathering twilight.
The simple farm had been transformed by music, food, and people. Long wooden trestle tables fairly sagged with plates of ham and biscuits, pies of every berry and fruit, and bowls of punch and lemonade.
The band, twelve strong and playing a merry tune, struck up after the eating was done and just about everyone took to the floor. Ellen stood uncertainly on the side of the swept yard, watching the ladies’ skirts swirling up clouds of dust as her own foot tapped a happy rhythm.
“Do you think anyone will ask you to dance?” Louisa asked, her eyes narrowed speculatively as she searched the crowd for a prospective partner. Since that uncomfortable conversation on the way to church they hadn’t really spoken, and even now Ellen felt the tension radiating from Louisa, along with a steely determination. Louisa, she suspected, was on a mission to dance.
“I don’t know,” she said, fiddling with the scratchy new lace at her cuffs. “I haven’t danced much before.” She wasn’t quite ready to admit even to herself, much less Louisa, how much she wanted to dance.
“You could always dance with Peter, I suppose,” Louisa said, spite spiking her words, and Ellen bit back her sharp reply. Dancing with Peter would be a laugh, but he was still a full head shorter than her and not the kind of partner she had in mind.
Just then she saw Jed walking towards her, scuffing his feet and not quite meeting her eye. Her heart lurched at the sight of his hair, usually so scruffy, now brushed back from his forehead and glistening with pomade. His eyes looked almost silver and his jaw was cleanly shaven. He was over six feet tall, with broad farmer’s shoulders and work-callused hands. His Sunday suit looked uncomfortable on him, as if the clothes knew he wasn’t used to them. Both he and Lucas had come to the wedding while their father had stayed behind with Maeve, who was no better even though it was high summer, the windows of her bedroom open to the light and air.
Ellen’s breath nearly stopped as he came to stand in front of her, ducking his head a bit as he asked, “Would you have this dance—”
“Yes—” Ellen began in shy pleasure, only to have Jed finish,
“—Louisa?”
“Oh.” Ellen’s cheeks burned and she took a step backwards as if to distance herself from her terrible gaffe, while Louisa purred,
“I certainly would, Jed Lyman. Thank you for asking me.” Taking his extended hand as elegantly as a ballerina, Louisa sashayed towards the dance floor, tossing Ellen a glittering, triumphant look over her shoulder.
Ellen’s feet felt as if they were nailed to the floor even as she longed to hike up her skirts and sprint away from the party. Why, oh why, had she assumed Jed was asking her? He’d been so cross with her over the stupid joke with Lucas, and they hadn’t spoken since. She should hardly have expected him to ask her to dance. Yet she was angry, and also hurt, not just because he hadn’t asked her, but because he had asked Louisa. Louisa, who was so spoiled and shallow and silly. She wasn’t an island girl at all, not the way Ellen was, or at least wanted to be.
Ellen told herself she was being ridiculous for caring, that she didn’t even like Jed. He teased her mercilessly and he was so sullen his face could sour milk. Why on earth would she have wanted to dance with him? And yet she knew she had.
“If he was going to ask Louisa, he should’ve stood in front of her,” Ellen muttered, only to have a voice behind her say softly,
“Ellen?”
“Lucas!” Ellen smiled in relief. In her moment of mortification it was good to see a friend.
“Will you dance with me?”
