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“I’ll have a strawberry fizz,” Louisa said with a flirtatious little smile, and she turned to Ellen. “Have you ever had a soda?”
Ellen thought of the brown bottles of sarsaparilla Hamish sold in buckets of ice in the summertime, and had a feeling this was another notion entirely. “Not really.”
“You must try a black cow! They’re simply delicious.”
“Black cow?” Ellen repeated, but the soda jerk was already making her a drink in a tall, frosted glass. He put it in front of her with a flourish, and Ellen gazed down at the dark, foaming drink with some trepidation.
“Chocolate syrup and root beer,” Louisa informed her. She took a sip of her own bubbling pink soda. “Like I said, it’s really delicious.”
Ellen took a sip, and the bubbles went right up her nose. “Oh!” She clapped her hand to her face, startled, and Louisa laughed.
“You are old fashioned, aren’t you, Ellen? Don’t they have soda fountains in Kingston?”
“I’m sure they do, but I’ve been kept too busy to sample their delights,” Ellen answered. She pushed her drink away from her and glanced around the store, its high glass cabinets filled with bottles and boxes.
She read a few of the brand names—Lydia Pinkham’s Vegetable Compound, Wampole’s Tonic—and realized with a jolt that these were items Hamish normally stocked, now with a store to themselves. Patent medicines, useless as they were, certainly hadn’t gone out of style. “I’d no idea Seaton was becoming such a metropolis,” she said after a moment. “Having a druggist! It’s moving up in the world, I suppose.”
“Moving with the times,” Louisa answered. “Most towns have drugstores now, and department stores as well. Things change, you know. I go to the soda fountain all the time when I’m in Rutland. I’ve been to three different ones.”
“What have you been doing with yourself?” Ellen asked, and Louisa shrugged.
“This and that. Lots of visiting, of course, and I help with the Ladies’ Aid.” She sighed and pushed her drink away. “Waiting, really,” she admitted, and Ellen forced herself to ask,
“For marriage, you mean?” There was a pause full of meaning, and Ellen prodded her drink with the straw, watching the brown bubbles churn and foam. “I’ve been expecting to hear an announcement any day,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
“We’ve discussed it,” Louisa said, and Ellen’s heart gave a painful little twist. Maybe it hadn’t been broken, but it had certainly taken some damage. “Jed wants to wait until he’s well settled. He’s considering buying the old Jamison farm on the other side of the island, so we can have our own place.”
Ellen stared in surprise. “But what will Mr. Lyman do without Jed? He depends on him!”
Louisa tilted her chin, and in her expression Ellen saw a ghost of the stubborn girl she’d once known. “We can hardly start our married life with Lucas and Mr. Lyman about.”
“Lucas is at Queen’s.”
“But he'll be back for summers and holidays. I want my own home.”
Whatever it meant for Mr. Lyman, Ellen filled in silently. And was Jed really willing to buy a whole new homestead for his bride? It surely wasn’t any of her business.
“I wish you well,” she said after a moment. They both sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts. Ellen was suddenly assailed by a memory of Jed stretched out next to her, looking through her sketches, his expression so thoughtful and serious, and she felt suddenly near tears. Hastily, to distract herself, she took a sip of soda and erupted into a fit of coughing.
“Oh, Ellen, you must get used to things!” Louisa said with a little laugh and Ellen forced herself to smile.
“I’m afraid I’m slower to take to things than most. Lucas was trying to teach me the latest dances—I’m hopeless, really.”
“Oh?” Louisa arched her eyebrows. “Have you seen much of him in Kingston, then?”
“A bit.”
“I’m sure he’s pleased by that.”
Ellen swallowed. “I don’t know about that, Louisa.” She had no intention of discussing Lucas or his feeling for her. She paused, took a breath. “Do you think,” she asked hesitantly, “you will like being a farmer’s wife? There are no soda fountains in Stella, you know, and I doubt there ever will be.”
“You’re mistaken if you think I hold soda fountains that dear!” Impulsively Louisa leaned forward, putting her hand on Ellen’s arm. “Oh, Ellen, I love him!” she exclaimed, her face turning radiant. “That’s what makes all the difference. I know what I saw in your face when Jed kissed me—and as for when you said those things after church—”
“Don’t,” Ellen said quickly. “Please don’t think of that again, Louisa. I didn’t mean a word of it.”
“I know you didn’t. I know you said it because you thought you loved him. But you don’t, Ellen, not really. When you love someone, it’s so consuming, so wonderful...”
Ellen couldn’t speak; she could barely think. The thought that Louisa knew how she felt about Jed was too humiliating to consider or endure. Did Jed know? Had he guessed? She could not bear to think of it. As for true love... she thought of the last six months, her determination to forget Jed and the many lonely, miserable hours she’d spent towards that end, and had to agree with Louisa that it was consuming. Wonderful she’d yet to experience.
