"West House
"Glen St. Mary, PEI
"July 31, 1938
"Dear Grandmother,
"How has your July been? Jeremy wrote last week and said he'd been spending a lot of time at Mount Holly with you. I can only imagine the trouble you are getting into! You and Jeremy together are very dangerous.
"I wish I could be there with you, keeping you two from doing anything too dreadful, but I have been having a marvellous time here in Glen St. Mary. I'm sure you've heard all about Hayden and Ava (if Jeremy hasn't told you, Lee will have during her visits, I know). Not only am I having all sorts of fun with them, I've also started a collaboration with my friend Tryg, who is an amazingly talented artist. I'm writing the story, and he's doing the illustrations, and when we've finished we're going to send it out to all the big magazines and see if we can get it published. I'm sure we won't, but it is fun to pretend that we might! Someday, I know, Tryg will be famous, and oh, how proud I shall be to be able to say that once I worked on a project with him.
"Isaiah Ford and I have been exploring, as usual, and even though we know the countryside around here inside and out, there's always the possibility that we might discover something new.
"When I'm not working with Tryg, exploring with Isaiah, or out with Hayden and Ava, I've been learning what tremendously hard work it is to run a household. I don't have to do much with the twins, and thank goodness, because I don't think I could possibly take care of the responsibilities of maintaining a home and raise children. I'm afraid I'm a dismal prospect for any man as a wife! Unless he were rich enough to afford a housekeeper and a nanny, of course.
"I see your eyes twinkling, and hear you asking in that too-innocent voice of yours, 'Isn't Hayden Wentworth rich enough to afford those things?' Yes he is, but truly, Grandmother, whatever Jeremy and Lee have told you, Hay and I are not serious about each other. We do go out quite often—we had the most fun dinner the other evening, at a new restaurant in Maywood—but he has to marry to please his family as well as himself, and I, if I do ever marry, want someone more like Phil than Hayden. Not that I want to marry my brother! But I'd like to marry someone a bit more quiet, who actually can be serious once in a while, who is always considerate of other people.
"I laugh more around Hay than I do around anyone else, but I rarely do anything but laugh, and you know, Grandmother, that a person has to have some balance. Life can't always be a big joke, though it might be nice if it was. No, I don't think it would, either! I love to laugh, but I also love sometimes to just be still and calm, or to be solemn even. I don't think Hay even takes God very seriously, and I could just never be happy living like that.
"Besides, I don't fit into his world, either. As good of a time as we had at the restaurant, I could just tell, from the way he ordered the meal and how comfortable he felt there, that this was nothing new to him. I, on the other hand, have only eaten at a nice restaurant once or twice, and never alone with a young man! He didn't say or do anything to make me feel uncomfortable or embarrassed about it, but I know that if we were to be a real couple, and especially if we ever got married, I'd make social gaffe after social gaffe. There is something to be said, after all, for marrying within ones own class. Or, if you do marry outside it, marry someone with enough poise to adapt easily.
"I, alas, have no poise of any sort!"
Gwen dashed off a few more paragraphs and then signed the letter. As she waited for the ink to dry, she thought back to the dinner. What she hadn't told Grandmother Blake (because, no matter how much she might seem like an older girl chum, there were certain things one just never told a grandmother) was that afterward, as Hayden walked her back to the house, he had kissed her.
Taken completely by surprise, Gwen had moved her head away, so that his lips touched her cheek instead of her mouth, but it was still a kiss. She stood gaping at him in shock, wondering if she was supposed to slap him, scream, or apologize for moving. He just grinned, which didn't help anything.
"What was that for?" she finally demanded weakly.
Hay shrugged. "It seemed a good idea at the time. Beautiful girl, moonlit night, personable young man … everything seemed to point to the propitious time for a kiss."
"But I don't kiss young men, no matter how personable," Gwen said, feeling something halfway between ashamed and elated.
Hay's grin deepened, making his dimples pop out. "Yes, I gathered that when you ducked."
Gwen had not been able to keep from giggling at that, and Hayden then bid her goodnight quite easily, and they had parted on the same amicable terms on which they had begun the evening.
Still, Gwen hadn't quite been able to shake the oddness of the episode. She had been raised with the idea that only fast girls kissed boys before they were engaged or at least seriously walking out. Yet Hayden had seemed so matter-of-fact about it, and he certainly wasn't a rake. Now Gwen wondered if she was just hopelessly provincial, and if kissing really wasn't such a big deal.
On the other hand, it seemed instinctively wrong to let Hay kiss her when she felt nothing—or nothing much—for him beyond friendship. It felt … deceitful, almost, like she was promising something she wasn't intending to give.
And on top of all that, she felt a half-guilty regret that she had moved away from his kiss. It would have been interesting to know what it did feel like to kiss, or be kissed by, a boy.
It was so dreadfully complicated to be a girl.
The ink dry, Gwen folded up her letter and put it in the envelope. As she scribbled the address, she thought fondly of her sweet, merry grandmother, who really did seem like a girl still despite her white hair and wrinkles. Grandmother Blythe was sweet and kind, too, but she was very much a grandmother. Gwen would never talk to her about the kind of man she wanted to marry, though she would go to her on advice regarding friendships in a heartbeat.
Yet her grandmothers had been college chums, and were very nearly the same age. Gwen spared a few moments wondering what she and Lynde would be like when they were old … if Lynde would be the sage, wise grandmother, and if she, Gwen, would still be clumsy and awkward, or if she would have gained some poise over the years!
Thinking of herself with grey hair and wrinkled hands made Gwen giggle, and she was still laughing as she went outside to post her letter.
Chloe was waiting for her at the gate. Gwen's smile died on her lips. "What do you want?" she asked, not caring if she sounded rude. Chloe had that challenging look on her face, so Gwen knew she wasn't there for any good reason.
"I wanted to talk to you away from everyone else," Chloe said. She jutted her chin out. "Unless you're scared to talk to me."
As usual, her cousin's dramatics only made Gwen feel a mixture of amusement and exasperation. "Why on earth would I be afraid to talk to you?"
"Because I know what you're really like, and if you don't listen to me, I'll start telling people."
Gwen's amusement vanished in a flash. "Tell people? You mean how you told everyone I was sent away from home in disgrace two years ago?"
Chloe didn't look the least bit discomposed at the reminder of her lie. "That may not have been true, but at least it served to show everyone that you weren't as sweet and perfect as you made out."
Gwen, who had never thought of herself as anything remotely close to perfect (or sweet, really—that was Lee), resisted the urge to roll her eyes. "Well, what do you want now?"
"I want you to leave my brother alone."
"What?" This was beyond ridiculous.
Chloe's hands were on her hips, and her eyes flashed. "Mummy is worried about Isaiah, because he doesn't want to finish school. He just wants to go have adventures somewhere. He thinks school's a waste of time. And if he quits, then Isaac will too. And then I'll be branded as the girl whose brothers dropped out!"
It figured, Gwen thought in disgust, that Chloe would be more worried about her reputation than her brothers' education. "Your mother told you this?" Chloe was not whom Gwen would have chosen for a confidant, were she a mother.
Chloe rolled her eyes. "Of course not. She told Daddy, and I overheard."
"Well, what does this have to do with me, anyway? I'm certainly not going to tell Isaiah he should quit school." Not that he would listen to her, anyway. They may have been friends, but Isaiah emphatically made up his own mind.
Chloe sniffed. "Maybe, but if he keeps seeing how lazy you are, and how you're only interested in catching a rich husband instead of making something of your own life, he'll start to think even more that he doesn't need school. I don't know why you're such an influence on him, but if you care about him at all, you'll see that I'm right."
Gwen wondered how somebody could look complacent and spiteful all at the same time. She also realized that she ought to be offended by Chloe's characterization of her, but somehow couldn't find it worthwhile. She and Chloe would never be friends, and in the end, it really didn't matter what the younger girl thought of her.
In a flash of unexpected insight, she wondered if some of Chloe's current spite was simply that Gwen had a relationship with Isaiah that Chloe had never had, and likely never would.
It wasn't really possible to feel pity for Chloe, but Gwen thought she could at least answer civilly.
"Chloe, I am not going to just start ignoring Isaiah. He is my friend as well as my cousin. But I can promise you that I will do everything in my power to encourage him to finish school."
Chloe looked taken aback. Apparently she had expected a very different response. "Well, good," she finally said flatly. She turned to leave, but twisted her head around to deliver one final blow. "And could you stop carrying on in public with your boyfriend the way you have been? You may be really a Blake, but everyone knows you're connected to the Blythes, and you're making the rest of us look bad."
Gwen opened her mouth to say … she wasn't sure what, either that Hayden wasn't her boyfriend, or she wasn't carrying on, or that she was as much a Blythe as Chloe, or even that Chloe needed to start minding her own business … but thankfully she caught sight of Tryg down the road and closed her mouth without saying anything but,
"Goodbye, Chloe," and hurrying past her dumbfounded cousin to meet her friend.
Tryg grinned as she approached. "What was that all about?"
Gwen raised one shoulder. "With Chloe, who knows?"
Tryg held out a sheaf of papers. "I finished the final illustrations."
Gwen clapped her hands. "Oh, marvellous!" She took the packet. The next part, by agreement, was hers. She was going to borrow Grandfather's typewriter and put the story into its final form, and then she was going to start sending it to magazines. Grandmother, who had found out about and was keenly interested in the project, had already started compiling a list of publications for them.
"Do you suppose we could actually get published?" Gwen asked.
It was Tryg's turn to shrug. "Who knows? Even if we don't, it's been grand to work on this."
"It certainly has," Gwen said. The more time she spent with Tryg, the more she appreciated his quiet strength and gentle humour. He was just a rough farmer, yet somehow he made Oliver look callow and Hayden immature.
Gwen sighed inwardly. She supposed Tryg's ideal woman would be calm, graceful, elegant, and quiet … everything Gwen was not.
Not that she had romantic feelings for Tryg. Not at all! It somehow seemed … presumptuous … to think of him as one did other boys. She was just glad to have him as a friend, and she only wished she could live up more to his ideal.
Tryg made her want to be a better person.
As Tryg walked back to his uncle's, his mouth was twisted in a wry grin. He had been so badly tempted to procrastinate on those illustrations, to put off finishing them, just so he would keep having excuses to see Gwen.
His artistic integrity wouldn't allow that, though, and now he supposed he wouldn't see her again unless, by some long stretch of the imagination, their story actually was published.
He couldn't regret handing the final project over to her, though. The delight on her expressive face was enough to make him glad to have done the deed.
Tryg's smile suddenly turned to a scowl, and he kicked a stone in the road, sending up a cloud of dust.
"Wentworth better appreciate what a jewel he has," he muttered, and coughed.
Tryg knew he could never deserve Gwen, but by Thor (Tryg's immersion in Norse mythology had given him a tendency to invoke the lesser-known gods, rather than Jove or the like), he would see her with someone who did!
