I never thought myself lonely in my life. If you had asked me whether I had ever been lonely, I would have told you no. I had my music, my slate, my trees, my uncle and Aunt, and Neil. I missed Mother, of course, but in truth, I had been a little afraid of her. Of course I loved her. There was no question about that.
But no, I wasn't lonely. I had my chores to keep me busy, and my precious, precious violin when I was not. Sometimes though, I wished for several things. For one, I wished I were not so ugly. I hated ugly things. They destroyed something inside me and it hurt when things were ugly. It hurt to know I was ugly. Mother said so, so it must be true. Mother wouldn't tell me a falsehood, would she? So yes, I am ugly. And several times I could see my reflection in the silver spoons or the sugar bowl Aunt Janet had, and my visage was indeed terrible to look upon. I do not understand how my family could stand to look at me, but of course, they must be used to me. One can get used to anything, I suppose.
I had another wish, but it was one more of convenience. I wished that I could carry on conversations with my family. I was born not being able to speak. It's a long sad story that I shall not tell now. Of course I had my slate that I could write quickly and neatly on, but sometimes thoughts and ideas crowd my head, and there isn't enough time to write them all down, and letters seem slow and cumbersome. Though sometimes Aunt Janet says that "silence is golden". I suppose she means that some folks do too much talking and not enough listening. Well, I certainly do enough listening.
Anyway, I was certainly happy. My music was all I needed. My violin did all the speaking needed for me. I could make it be happy or sad, or melancholy or joyful, or just anything I was feeling at the time. I remember the day Neil showed me his violin. His large hands on top of my very small ones at the time and showing me how to hold the bow. He really only had to show me a few times before I understood how to play. And then… my soul took off! I could express more in my music than I could with blank words on a silly slate. There, I could put in feelings, expression, movement, and… yes, my very soul into every note. I felt free when I played. I could sit there and play for a very long time.
My favourite place to play was in the old apple orchard. I loved that place like I loved my violin. It spoke to me. The old place felt as much like home to me as my own dear room did. Of course, it was really not our orchard. It used to belong to the Conners, but they haven't been there in years. So it is ours, or mine, I should say, since I was the one who frequented it so often. There is a dear little bench among some lilacs where I loved to sit. It was the perfect place to play my violin. I would sit there and let the music flow, any old thing that came to my head and make it into music. I am so fond of that orchard that I consider it to be a friend of mine. It has as many moods as I do. Sometimes it was brooding and pensive, sometimes it was joy incarnate, sometimes as roguish as a kitten, and sometimes I couldn't read it at all. But always it was charming.
I had just turned eighteen recently, and I snuck another look at the sugar bowl this morning, hopeful to see if perhaps age had improved my looks any. I had to give another sigh, for the reflection was the same as the last time I had seen it, and could not help wince at how ugly I was. I quickly looked away from it, wanting to forget, but that deep hurt was always there. It was sad to be so ugly, and I didn't like to be around people for that very reason. I didn't like their stares so. I remember once going out with Aunt Janet to see the peddler, for I was interested in his wares and, truth be told, meeting him. And oh! He stared at me so much. Then I knew. I was horrible looking. So never again! Never again would I inflict that on other people. There was too much beauty in the world to ruin it like that.
Giving a shake of my head, I quickly helped Aunt Janet with the breakfast. I was very good at this, and she was pleased with me. I was glad to please her, as I knew she liked my help. Then she told me to go get Uncle, and I ran down to the barn to get him, first patting the horse and giving her a soft kiss on her nose. I don't know anything softer than a horse's nose, and I like kissing it. Aunt Janet thought it silly, but Uncle had only smiled and his eyes twinkled as he told me that he would never tell. I ran to him now and tugged on his sleeve, pointing at the house. He understood and said, "Just a minute, Kilmeny. I just need to put the milk in the creamery."
Nodding, I looked around for Neil, but Uncle said, "He's out with his friends this morning. I wish he were here to help with the chores, but I can manage on my own for today. He'll help tomorrow, that you may be sure of, lass." I was disappointed, for I had found Neil different of late. He'd been gone more and more out into that great big world in which I'd never been to. He was leaving me behind! And anyways, for some reason, I was finding things awkward between us where it never had been before. I could not understand why, and when I asked him, he would not explain. I suppose he had other interests, but I missed the way things were before. He was like an older brother to me, even though we were not related.
Neil's story… it's rather a romantic story, I like to think. A sadly romantic story. See, a gypsy man came to the house, his wife heavy with child. She gave birth to wee Neil. That was before I was born. Tragically, she died in childbirth, and the gypsy, so stricken with grief, left behind a grave and a baby. Uncle and Aunt are kind souls and would not give the baby to an orphanage, as others had advised them to. I was glad to know that right from the beginning they were so kind to Neil. He can sing so very well, that sometimes it makes me jealous to hear him. He can do all kinds of things with that deep voice of his that I can never do. We would sit and make music together, but he has stopped doing that lately. I wonder if it's because he's so used to his friend looking a great deal better than I do, and it gives him a break from my ugliness. Well, if that's the case, then I don't mind.
Uncle came in shortly and sat down at the table. He gave the blessing then we began to eat. It was all very delicious and healthy. Then afterwards, Aunt and I cleaned up the dishes while Uncle finished the chores he had left. I found out that he was also going to look over the fields and plan for the crops. I went with him to get a good walk in, and I loved listening to him anyway. He was always so kind to me, and would tell me things. I felt that he wished that I would try and go see the village of Lindsay, but I was still adamant. No one should see me. I was happy the way I was. Why ruin it?
He sighed but then turned his attention to the great rolling red fields. Something about their rich colour satisfied something in me. I wanted to run and dance, but stayed in stride with Uncle Thomas. I was always glad for his company, although I understood he was busy with the farm. The wind brought the scent of spring, laden with blossoms. It smelled like the very wind of heaven, and I wondered briefly if Mother smelled this all day long. If so, it must be very nice there.
I went around the farm doing various chores. I had to feed the hens and ducks, sweep the house, and today I cleaned the windows. I like doing that, making things pretty. It gives me such satisfaction to take something dirty and then leave with it shiny and far better than before. I finally finished everything and had the rest of my day free. It would be evening soon, and I only had one place in mind: the old orchard. I took my violin, not bothering to take my slate with me, for with whom was I going to speak? It would be only myself and the birds and flowers and trees. And they do not speak with the throat as other people do, but instead in whispers and twitters, and sighs. The music of nature itself.
I could have found my way to my bench with my eyes closed, but I smiled in delight at what my eyes saw. The orchard looked bewitched, what with the apple trees heavily laden with flowers. The buds on the lilacs were starting to open, and their scent mixed in with the apple one in a perfumed air. I giggled silently as I saw a rabbit poke its nose out of a rose bush and hop about. I didn't move as I didn't want to scare it. Likely it was a mother rabbit. I hoped I'd see the baby rabbits later on when they learned how to eat grass. Eventually, the rabbit moved away and I picked up my bow and snuggled my violin under my chin.
Taking a deep breath, I laid the bow on the strings and looked around me. The day was so full of many things, and I translated it in the only way I knew how. I played. I told of the sighing of the wind, the ghostly whisper of the grass, the white thoughts of the June lilies, the way the apple blossoms laughed and swung on their branches, and the soul of the orchard as it showed itself to me. It had once been a place of laughter and tears, songs and games, walks all alone in despair, and something else that I could not have put into words if I tried. But I did not try. I just let the notes pour out of me and my soul felt like it was as high as the blue bird I could see floating above the trees.
I was full of pretty thoughts and dreams, and let my mind wander to the hills of dreamland, playing half-unconsciously, letting my fingers and arm do the work. Presently, I felt myself come into the the present body, as if I had really left and walked in other lands, like my namesake. My eyes went from the pale pink blossoms of a tree to a figure underneath the tree.
A man! I sprang from my seat, bow slipping to the grass unconsciously as I gripped my old brown violin with a death grip. Horror and terror of the man swept through me. Who was he? How long had he been there? He'd been watching me! And… and… what must he think of me! I trembled on the spot, finding myself quite unable to move for sheer fright.
He spoke something to me… I didn't quite catch what it was, for my world had crashed around me, and the sound of it was far louder than his voice. I knew I was as white as a sheet, my lips were quivering, and I felt paralyzed.
The man tried again to speak, and his tone was soft and gentle, but then he stepped towards me with a hand outstretched. Senses left me quite altogether. I finally found my legs and turned away and fled from him. I wasn't even thinking of anything but the need to flee. I ran through the orchard, through the gap, and back out to the lane that led up to home. I didn't even stop until I got to my room and shut the door in a hurry.
There I panted and gasped for breath. What had happened? Who was he? He was a man… and all men were bad, Mother said. I had been right to run away from him as soon as I could. But… something puzzled me. It was the look in his eyes before I had reacted fearfully. I didn't know what that look was, and part of me wanted to know.
I stupidly realized that I'd left my bow there. Now why had I done that? I berated myself, feeling like I had left half of me there in the orchard. I was quite helpless to think of what to do, for I was not about to go back there myself. But I needed my bow! My precious bow! Then I heard the heavy step of a familiar person. Neil! He'd get it for me. Snatching up my slate, I wrote my request, and showed it to him. He was very agreeable, and went out to the darkening orchard for me. How happy I was when I saw the bow in his hands again. I thanked him with a smile, and his eyes burned something bright at that. Giving a little wave goodnight, I went back to my room to think things over. What had happened, how I had reacted, and everything that Mother said about strange men… all of this played on my mind as I lay on my bed, waiting for sleep to come.