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Because you still love Jed too much.
And perhaps that hurt most of all, because she didn’t want to love Jed still. She didn’t want to love him at all.
“I don’t think that’s fair to you, Lucas,” Ellen said quietly.
“Sometimes you don’t really have a choice in these matters.”
Ellen gazed down at the ground; she’d got a bit of mud on her slipper. Gladys would be furious. “No,” she agreed in little more than a whisper, “you don’t.”
She felt a sudden tension in the air, like a shiver. When she looked up she saw Lucas gazing at her in shrewd assessment, so different from his heartfelt declaration of a few moments ago. Then his expression cleared and he held out his hand. “Now, shall we go back into the dance?”
She nodded, her throat too t
ight for words, and put her hand into his. As they entered Grant Hall the raucous ragtime music and lively dancing seemed a world apart, a light, carefree place where you weren’t given someone’s heart to safeguard... a precious thing, Ellen thought, looking sadly at Lucas, that her own heart didn’t seem to want.
FIVE
By mid-June most of the Queen’s students were stretched out on the meadows by the lake, halfheartedly looking at books but mostly enjoying the sudden, summery weather.
The nursing students watched them enviously from the wards, for they had far less leisure time than those who studied at Queen’s.
Still, there were summer holidays to look forward to, and Ellen was surprised and relieved to realize she was looking forward to returning to Amherst Island, despite the awkwardness of Lucas’ declaration and Jed and Louisa’s burgeoning romance.
Louisa had written her a few weeks earlier to inform her that the McCaffertys had invited her for the month of August, with the Lymans’ blessing, ‘and I hope a proposal will be forthcoming at the end of it.’
Ellen found that this information neither surprised nor pained her; she was still blessedly numb, and there was a small part of her that even looked forward to seeing her friend. As for Jed... she couldn’t think of him, or how terribly awkward things would be between them. They had not communicated since she had insulted him so awfully in the churchyard at Christmas. Ellen still flushed in shame to think of it.
As for Lucas, he’d been every bit the solicitous friend he ever had been, and there was no mention of the evening of the Queen’s smoker, and his words of love. He’d taken her to tea twice, and been the perfect friend and gentleman both times.
Sometimes, in an idle moment, Ellen imagined herself married to Lucas, living on the island perhaps, and it was not an unpleasant scenario. Sometimes she wondered if she could grow to love him in time, as he clearly hoped.
She knew better than to speak of it to him, for false hope was worse than none, but she still valued his friendship and vowed that she would not ruin that relationship, not like she had with Jed.
Ellen was packing her valise for the journey home, the windows of her dormitory thrown open to the summer air, when Harriet McIlvain hurried into the room.
“Ellen, Superintendent Cothill wants to see you in her parlor.” Harriet looked anxious, and Ellen felt her own sharp pang of nervousness. To be summoned to the nursing superintendent’s parlor was never a good thing. Would those sharp words she’d spoken months ago come back to haunt her now?
She walked slowly down the stairs to the little private room adjacent to the nurses’ parlor. Miss Cothill stood in the doorway, a piece of paper in her hand, her expression grave.
“You wanted to see me, Miss?”
“I’m sorry to be the bearer of grim tidings, Nurse Copley,” Miss Cothill said quietly, “but a telegram has just been delivered to my care. It regards your aunt.”
“Aunt Rose?” Ellen’s mouth was dry and her eyes widened.
“No,” Miss Cothill corrected, “your Aunt Ruth. She’s very ill and you have been summoned back to Seaton immediately.”
“Aunt Ruth?” Ellen repeated, and found she could not quite believe it. She hadn’t known Ruth ever to be ill; somehow she could not imagine her stern countenance made pale and tired in illness. Yet, she realized, she had not seen her aunt and uncle in over a year. The thought grieved her, and she felt a clutch of panic at the thought of Aunt Ruth being ill, gravely so. “Is it... serious?” she asked numbly. “I mean... will she die?”
“I do not know,” Miss Cothill said gently, “but your uncle is asking you to come at once.”
Stiffly Ellen nodded, her mind whirling. From somewhere she found words. “I shall finish packing my things.”
“Yes, do. I shall arrange a carriage to take you to the station.”
Just a few hours later she boarded the train to Ogdensburg. It would take all day to reach Seaton, a day that felt endless as her mind ran through a reel of memories made unbearably poignant by her aunt’s illness. Aunt Ruth slapping her hand when she’d touched the bolt of fabric in the store, and then later making her those dresses of her own. Her aunt’s sharp rebukes and then sudden, reluctant relenting, her stern features softening into an almost-smile.
As the train chugged steadily through the countryside burgeoning in summer Ellen felt as if the memories might swallow her up completely, suffocate her with sadness and regret for what might have been. She closed her eyes and leaned her head against the seat, willing the train faster and her own mind to rest.
